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thenerdykneazle · 1 year ago

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The Scriptorium

Summary: After a harrowing journey through Slytherin's Scriptorium, Ominis helps MC recover from being subjected to the torture curse. After all, he has personal experience dealing with its effects.

Ominis Gaunt x GN!MC

A/N: The fact that I haven't written and posted an Ominis one shot before this is a crime, honestly. Almost as much of a crime as it is that after the trauma that is the scriptorium, both boys just walk away at the end of the mission. So, I fixed it. Also, the first 2.4k of this is a description of the scriptorium mission. Most of the events/dialogue are straight from the game. So, feel free to skip ahead to the middle of this (once they're out of the scriptorium) if you don't need the refresher.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, talks of child abuse, descriptions of being crucio'd, awkward teenagerness in general, MC is naked for part of it but it's not sexual (they just needed a bath, okay?), Sebastian is a walking red flag in this mission but that's not my fault

Word count: 4880

You wound down the dark staircase, descending into Slytherin’s scriptorium. Sebastian entered in after you.

“Dark ominous corridors. My favourite,” he quipped.

“No comment,” Ominis replied coolly as he followed you both.

“Come on, that was a good one,” Sebastian said jovially.

You held back a snicker.

The ancient corridor at the bottom was littered with shattered stone and ended in a sealed door. You found a note left by Noctua Gaunt. She had been here. You repaired the stone into a relief, which Sebastian pointed out showed a person facing a snake.

Ominis shifted anxiously on his feet. He explained the sinister voice he heard telling him to speak to it. He told you how he was a Parselmouth – someone who could speak to snakes. He was certain that speaking to the door would open it, but he was hesitant.

“I’m hoping you’re having second thoughts,” he admitted.

“I see no reason we should stop now,” you replied, unaware of how much you’d come to regret those words.

Ominis breathed out a defeated sigh. “It’s ironic. When I left home, I vowed to leave the Dark Arts behind. And yet, here I am…Stand back.”

You took several steps backward, and Ominis turned to face the door. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered to himself.

You stared in awe as a low hissing came from your friend’s lips. The eyes of two of the snakes carved in the door illuminated with green light, and they slithered up around the frame. The door opened.

“It worked!” you said, stunned. “Ominis, you possess a rare ability indeed.”

“Between the two of you, I’m starting to feel left out,” Sebastian whinged light-heartedly.

Ominis’s brows drew together. “Between the two of us?”

“I – never mind,” Sebastian stuttered, realizing his slip.

You weren’t sure yet if you could trust Ominis with your secret. Professor Fig had asked you not to share details with anyone, and you’d already gone against that advice with Sebastian.

You entered into the next room and were met with a locked gate. Next to it was a dial with a statue of a snake atop it. Once you were all inside, the door you’d come through shut behind you. That was the first moment where you thought this might be a mistake. Sebastian pointed out another sealed gate. Ominis suggested inspecting them for clues on how to proceed forward.

You ducked through a half-opened gate and found another note from Noctua. Her description of feeling unwelcome in the scriptorium didn’t inspire confidence in you. Nearby was another dial. You lit the torch beside it and turned one of the large metal discs. A hissing emitted from the statue as it began to rotate. You flicked through the dial, studying the symbols. Both discs had the same pattern.

In a flash, the snake lunged at you, biting your jaw as you stumbled backwards.

“That didn’t sound good,” Ominis said.

“It’s fine,” you asserted, frustration edging into your voice as you wiped the blood from your face with your sleeve. You really should’ve expected something like that.

“Salazar Slytherin didn’t make this easy,” Sebastian observed.

Obviously, you thought as you rolled your eyes. You’d be more than happy to let him take a stab at the dial.

You returned to the other dial. The gate next to it had symbols carved into it, as well. You illuminated your wand and saw that they matched some from the dial. You wished you’d noted that earlier.

“I think matching the dial to the symbols on the gate will open it,” you said.

“It seems Slytherin liked to play games,” Ominis said thoughtfully.

“Must run in the family,” Sebastian quipped.

“Look in a mirror, Sebastian,” Ominis replied irritably.

You quickly aligned the symbols on the dial to the ones sealing the doorway next to it. The serpents on the metal gate shifted, and it raised automatically.

“Matching the symbols did open it,” you said, relieved. You had half expected to be bitten again.

“Was about to do that myself, but you got to it first,” Sebastian said.

You just shot him a waspish look.

He coughed awkwardly. “Nice work,” he said.

You shook your head before continuing forward. In a pit at the end of the corridor, you found a third dial along with another note from Noctua.

I failed the dial, and it struck my face as if it were a real serpent, she started. You scoffed to yourself. Yeah, thanks for the warning, you thought sarcastically as you dabbed at your stinging jaw. She continued on in her letter to decry the way their family forced dark magic on their children.

“Ominis, your aunt wanted to change your family’s traditions,” you said.

“She did,” he confirmed in a wistful voice. “And she was my favourite person in the world for it.”

You felt a pang of sorrow for your friend. He’d lost the only member of his family that had ever been decent to him. You hoped for his sake that this adventure would provide answers as to what happened to her.

You went back to the main room, checking the symbols on the other gate that was still sealed. You went back to the dial that’d bitten you. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you shifted the discs. There were two dials and only one door. You couldn’t be certain which went with it. You were relieved when you heard the metal clanking of the gate opening, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“That sounded promising,” Ominis said.

“Another dial solved,” you replied gleefully as you searched for another door.

“Impressive. Nice work,” Ominis’s silky voice called out almost reverently from the dark.

You chuckled at how similar yet distinct the two Slytherins were, complimenting you with the same words but in entirely different ways.

You entered the newly opened archway. You read yet another note left behind by Noctua, warning of painful challenges but telling of rewards, as well. You relayed the information to your companions.

“Painful – that’s the part I’m wary of,” Ominis said, sounding nervous.

“All I heard was rewards. Keep going,” Sebastian replied with a flippant fort of confidence.

Sure enough, there was another gate at the back of the new room. You wound your way back to the remaining dial and shifted it to match the final gate. Once you aligned the discs, the gate opened with a hiss. You downed a wiggenweld to heal your gashed chin now that you weren’t likely to be bitten again. Hopefully.

“Excellent work,” Sebastian said brightly. “We’re another step closer to the scriptorium.”

Sebastian was just outside the archway when you made it back. “I spotted something ahead,” he said, fear edging into his voice for the first time. “Looks troubling.”

“This whole place is troubling, but, for my aunt’s sake, we cannot stop now,” Ominis replied.

You noted privately that you couldn’t really stop even if you had wanted to. Having only one way forward, the three of you crept into the newly revealed corridor. You had a sinking feeling in your stomach as you stepped inside.

Curiously, the torches lining the space were already lit. More clanking rang out behind you.

“The gate!” Sebastian said in a panicked tone. “I think we’re locked in. Again.”

“Then Salazar Slytherin is not yet finished with us,” Ominis said dismally.

You were inclined to agree. You couldn’t help but think that Noctua’s optimism about the Hogwarts founder was misplaced. You approached the door at the end of the corridor, feeling a cold wash over you like walking through a ghost.

Your heart dropped as you spotted the bones lying in front of the door, right next to the word ‘crucio’ in glowing letters. On the other side of the skeleton, you found another note. With shaking hands, you reread how to proceed. You looked again at the remains of Ominis’s aunt. You felt like you were about to be sick.

“Ominis. A skeleton…And Noctua’s last journal entry. She mentions being trapped here – blocked by an Unforgivable Curse,” you said, unable to bring yourself to put it more directly.

Ominis looked shattered. “This…is where she died,” he said in disbelief. He began pacing in anger. “This is where we’ll die. I shouldn’t have listened to either of you.”

His words struck harder than you would’ve expected.

“Ominis, I’m truly sorry about your aunt,” Sebastian said. “But, I know what to do. It’s going to be difficult.”

You raised an eyebrow at the brunet. You discussed the matter with him. He voiced aloud what you already knew. The only way out was casting the cruciatus curse. Something only one of you had done before. Sebastian implored you to talk to Ominis.

You had already convinced him to go into this despicable place. You couldn’t ask him to cast an unforgivable, too. Sebastian steeled himself to confront him.

“Ominis, I know this is the last thing you want to do–” Sebastian started.

“Yes! It is! I thought you knew me better!” Ominis spat back.

“But this is different,” Sebastian insisted. “Whoever you cast it upon will have agreed to it first. It wouldn’t be an innocent ‘victim.’ We have to open the door.”

“The spell won’t work unless you mean it,” Ominis said. “That’s true of all unforgivables. If it must be done, then one of you must cast it.”

“What do we do now?” you asked Sebastian. “Ominis is not going to cast the cruciatus curse again.”

“Ridiculous!” Sebastian groused. “As if dying in here is a better option than casting a damned spell.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s up to us. I can teach you crucio, or I can cast it on you.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait – you didn’t say you knew how to cast crucio,” you said.

Sebastian pursed his lips. “Because I’m not sure I do,” he replied. “Ominis knows that, yet he’s left us no choice. I don’t yearn to follow in Noctua Gaunt’s footsteps.” He glanced down at the remains. “I think I can cast it if I have to.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought of casting the curse. The hatred required. “I don’t want to learn the curse, but I can handle the pain,” you said more confidently than you felt. “It’s fine. Cast it on me.”

“I shan’t forget this,” Sebastian vowed. He swallowed thickly. “Ready?”

You nodded. “I’m ready,” you said, though your trembling voice betrayed how untrue that was. How could you be ready for such a thing?

Sebastian raised his wand. “Crucio!” he said quickly, before he could lose his nerve.

A red bolt erupted from his wand and struck you. You crumpled to the floor as blinding pain flooded through your whole body. You cried out. It was like molten shrapnel had exploded out from within you, shredding your muscles, tearing apart your organs, and splintering your bones.

“Are you all right?” Sebastian asked, his voice was scared and distant.

You could barely make sense of the words as your senses were overtaken. The red jet arced from you to the door, and it melted away. Jolts of pain still crackled through you as you pushed yourself onto your feet. You struggled to pull air into your lungs.

“A-are you all right?” Ominis asked, clearly shaken.

“That pain,” you groaned. You looked at Ominis’s horrified expression and felt guilt stab into you at the trauma he must be relieving. You couldn’t imagine going through that so young. “It was excruciating, but I’ll survive. Let’s keep moving.”

You just wanted out of there.

Sebastian was enraptured as he entered the room – as if it were sodding Honeydukes and not the lair of a dark wizard. Ominis edged cautiously inside, as well. For once, the door didn’t slam behind you.

You found an old tome and informed Sebastian and Ominis.

“You found something?” Sebastian asked excitedly.

“You two go ahead – let me know what’s in it,” Ominis said, voice still quavering. “I’ll wander around a bit.”

You were about to check on him, but Sebastian appeared at your side. “May I have a look?” he asked, gesturing to the book in your grasp. You handed it over.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“Looks like a spellbook of some kind,” Sebastian replied eagerly. “This is incredible! A Hogwarts founder’s possession – what an honour.” He shook his head. “Still can’t believe Ominis never told me about his aunt and what she found.”

You could. In fact, you wished he’d never brought it up – and that you’d never pushed him on it. “What will you do with Slytherin’s spellbook?” you asked, aiming for a casual tone. Really, you were nervous about his intentions.

Sebastian gave you a playful grin. “What I do with every book – read it! Having professors as parents ingrained that habit early on,” he said lightly. “But I can do that later. For now, I say we explore this room. It’s breathtaking.”

You didn’t feel the same eagerness Sebastian showed – perhaps because he wasn’t the one who had just been tortured. Still, it was a bit shocking to see him so chipper after casting an unforgivable on you mere minutes ago.

“I’ve been getting an uneasy feeling about this place,” Ominis called anxiously up to you both. “We shouldn’t linger here. Let’s find a way out, please.”

Sebastian chuckled. “I don’t want to leave, but I owe you – both of you,” he said. “Without both of you, we’d never have made it this far.”

“We were lucky – we could have died!” Ominis said seriously. “We must swear never to do this again.”

You saw Sebastian roll his eyes. You picked up a note lying on the desk as you tried to shove down your irritation with the boy.

“I see a way out!” Sebastian announced.

“Best news I’ve heard all day,” Ominis replied, breathing a sigh of relief as he climbed the stairs.

You all exited through the hidden doorway.

“Ominis, about your aunt–” Sebastian started as he emerged from the wall back into the dungeon corridor.

“Please, Sebastian,” Ominis cut him off. “I meant what I said before. We swear right now never to engage in anything to do with dark magic again!”

“Understood,” Sebastian replied immediately, much to your surprise. “I’m truly sorry about your aunt, Ominis.”

“I suppose, after all this, I am grateful to know what happened to her,” he said quietly. He turned to you. “Thank you.”

You didn’t know what to say. Sebastian hurried off, probably to go delve into the book. Ominis leaned against the wall, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he tried to process the night’s events.

You chewed your lip. “Ominis, I’m so sorry I dragged you down there. I hadn’t imagined we’d end up trapped like that,” you said sincerely.

He pushed off the wall, stepping toward you. “Salazar Slytherin did,” he replied darkly. “He’s to blame for many unimaginable things.”

You felt a new wave of fear at Sebastian having his spellbook.

“I’m just glad we made it out of there,” he continued. “How are you doing? The cruciatus curse is pure torture – I would know.”

You nodded. “I’m fine. Sebastian told me a little of what happened when you were young,” you said. “Sounds as if you had no choice.”

Ominis sighed. “Should’ve known he would’ve told you,” he muttered. “And one always has a choice. I’m as guilty as the worst of my family. Like I said, unforgivable curses won’t work unless you really mean them. I had to want to cause pain, and for that I shall never forgive myself. I will regret casting it forever.”

You flinched as you thought of the pain that had surged through you less than half an hour ago. Sebastian had wanted you to feel it. You couldn’t imagine feeling that way toward him or Ominis, especially now that you knew what it was like.

Warm fingers slipped into your hand, and you looked up to see Ominis’s brow furrowed in concern. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I should’ve insisted we found another way out. Really, I shouldn’t have told Sebastian about the scriptorium in the first place. I am glad to know what happened to my aunt, but…not at your expense.”

You swallow thickly as you stared up at his kind face. “I’m all right, really,” you said.

He arched a brow at you. “Don’t lie to me,” he said firmly. “I can feel your hand shaking.”

You realized he was right. Your muscles were twitching with aftershocks from the curse. You suspected they had been since Sebastian’s curse released. You were just so out of sorts that you hadn’t noticed. “Oh,” you said dimly.

Ominis laced his fingers with yours. “Let’s get you some tea and a blanket. You must be freezing,” he said.

You were freezing, you realized. Ominis led you into the Slytherin common room. You just followed him numbly. It was like your body had reacted to the pain by shutting off your senses. Your mind had been overwhelmed. You felt like you were moving through fog now.

Before you knew it, you had a hot cup of tea in your hands and a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Ominis rubbed slow circles on your back. His touch grounded you, keeping you from slipping into the recesses of your mind.

“Is this how you felt after?” you asked, turning your glazed eyes toward Ominis.

He stiffened, his hand freezing in place, as his features contorted in a grimace. You could see his throat bob as he swallowed.

“Sorry,” you said quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

Ominis shook his head. “I expect so,” he said thoughtfully, answering your question. “I would have a tremor and feel a numbing cold. One of our elves tended to me after the first time. My mother locked me in my room, and he brought me tea and tucked me into bed with extra blankets even though she’d instructed them to leave me alone. He…He also knew how it felt.” His jaw tensed. “My family distributes their cruelty quite generously.” He spat out the last sentence like venom.

You felt tears prick your eyes. “I’m sorry you both went through that,” you said.

He just nodded.

“The numbness wears off after a while,” he said as he resumed the languid circles on back. “Then it’s like…your senses are frayed. Everything is just…too much. Noise. Scents. Everywhere is too hot or too cold. Even clothes are…Well, you get the idea.”

His cheeks were coloured pink.

“How long until that starts?” you asked. It sounded dreadful.

“Maybe an hour from now?” he said. He cleared his throat. “I found that a warm bath in a quiet room helps. Not hot but body temperature. It’s almost like floating in nothing. I expect you’d want the room dark, as well, but I really wouldn’t know.”

He chuckled, and you couldn’t help but laugh, as well. You sipped your tea, and you felt yourself relax slightly as the warm liquid slid down your throat. A shiver ran through you, and you tucked into Ominis’s side, resting your head on his shoulder.

He was caught by surprise, but he quickly wrapped his arm around you, holding you tightly to himself. He even rested his head on top of yours.

You stayed like that for a long time. Ominis traced his wand down a schoolbook with the hand not holding you. He checked in every once in a while to make sure you hadn’t run out of tea, casting a charm to refill your cup when needed. Slowly, your tremor subsided and your body warmed. The cold nothingness that had enveloped you was eventually replaced by a sort of static. It was barely noticeable at first, but it grew more and more grating. You felt stifled between the fire, blanket, and Ominis’s warm body next to you. You had to set your tea down because it was scalding. Your uniform scratched like sandpaper over every inch of your skin. The crackling of the flames and students speaking in low voices grew louder until the noises pounded in your ears. The dim common room seemed blindingly bright. Even the usually calming scent of Ominis’s cologne was an attack on your senses.

You groaned as you curled into yourself. Ominis scooted away from you, and you felt a pang of guilt at the relief it gave you.

“Let’s get you that bath,” Ominis said quietly as he tucked his book into his bag.

He grabbed your sleeve and tugged you to the lavatory. You cast a charm to block the windows. Only the faintest light filtered through. You sagged against one of the sinks, holding your frazzled head in your hands. Ominis filled a tub with a water-making charm, knowing the rush from the taps would be deafening. He heated the water with another spell, dipping his hand it to ensure it was the right temperature. He even set out a towel for you.

“All set,” he said gently. “I’ll relock the door on my way out so no one disturbs you.”

“Could you…stay?” you asked sheepishly.

You could just make out Ominis’s eyes as they widened. “Oh,” he squeaked. “Erm, yes, I suppose so. Are you sure you want me to?”

“I’d rather not be alone,” you admitted, wincing at your own voice as it seemed to boom out from you. “And, well, it’s not like you can see anything…right?”

He chuckled softly. “You’re correct,” he whispered.

He moved to a window seat on the far wall, and you slipped out of your robes. Despite the fact that he couldn’t see you, your cheeks flushed as you stood naked in a room with Ominis in it. The cold air was like ice on your skin. You quickly climbed into the bath. It was like applying a balm to a sunburn. You really did feel wrapped in nothing as you were surrounded by water exactly the same temperature as you. You closed your eyes, shutting out the last bit of light.

You felt the tension that had been mounting melt out of your body. The only sensations aside from the cool air on your face were the sound of your own breathing and occasional turn of a page as Ominis read. You couldn’t even hear his breaths from where he sat.

With time, your breathing stopped seeming so loud and you stopped noticing the temperature of the room as much. The water in your tub was exactly as warm as it’d been when you slipped inside. You realized Ominis must’ve charmed it to stay that way. He was quite a talented wizard.

You sat up a bit in the tub, leaning your head back on the edge of it, but you kept your eyes closed. You weren’t ready to take in visual stimuli again just yet. “Ominis?” you asked, pleased when the word didn’t ring in your ears.

“Yes, MC?” he replied quietly.

“Thank you. For helping me. It…it would’ve been awful to go through this alone,” you said.

There was a pause before he answered. “I’m sorry you have to go through it at all.”

You opened your eyes to look at him. “It’s not your fault,” you said. You turned, hooking your elbow over the side of the tub as you faced him. “I’m the one who convinced you to go down there.”

“Yes, but I should’ve known better,” he said sadly. “I just…I was so consumed by the need to know what happened to my aunt. I went against my better judgment. It won’t happen again.”

“Same here. I have no interest in investigating anything to do with Slytherin again,” you replied. “I hope Sebastian meant it when he said he’s done.”

“He’s never lied to me before,” Ominis said confidently. “But…if he does mention anything to you, tell me, okay?”

“I will,” you promised. To be honest, you felt like you could tell Ominis anything.

“Good,” Ominis said with a small smile, but it was quickly replaced with a look of concern. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” you said truthfully. “Is there another phase after this?”

Ominis pressed his mouth into a thin line. Even when upset, his features were as handsome as ever. It really wasn’t fair. “No, but this one tends to linger. You’ll feel on edge for a few days. Maybe a week, even. It tends to last longer the more times you’ve been cursed, so hopefully it’s just a few days for you,” he said, forcing a hopeful smile onto his lips.

You blinked rapidly as a thought struck you. “Did your family curse you multiple times?” you asked, aghast.

He turned his face back toward his book as he schooled his features. “Yes,” he said in a barely audible voice.

“Oh, Ominis, that’s awful!” you said. You wished you could give him a hug, but as you were naked and sopping wet, it wasn’t exactly an opportune time.

He gave a mirthless laugh. “That’s the Gaunts for you. We specialize in ‘awful.’”

“Not all of you,” you argued. “Not your aunt. Not you.”

“Recent evidence would suggest otherwise,” he said. He hung his head. “Not to mention my past mistakes.”

“But that’s just it. It was a mistake. It doesn’t define you, Ominis,” you insisted. “Do you think the rest of your family would’ve cared enough to help me?”

He scoffed. “Certainly not.”

You just waited, letting him consider the facts for himself.

He sighed as he turned back toward you. “I suppose you have a point.”

You smiled. “I know I do.”

Ominis chuckled, and it was a beautiful sound – if a bit loud at the moment.

You decided you’d soaked long enough and got out of the bath. You cringed as you patted yourself dry. The towel wasn’t quite sandpaper like your clothes had been before, but your skin still felt raw. “How long until clothes feel normal again?” you asked, hoping the answer was soon.

“It all progresses together, so it’ll take a few days,” Ominis said with an apologetic grimace.

You let out a groan. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

He held out his hand. “Here. Give me your clothes.”

You wrapped the towel around yourself before scooping up your uniform and padding over to him. You set the outfit in his open hand.

He cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said. Standing so close now, you could see the blush spread over his cheeks.

Your face flushed, too, when you realized you could’ve just levitated the clothes over. You cringed again, but at yourself this time.

Ominis waved his wand as he uttered an unfamiliar incantation. He handed your outfit back to you. It was silky smooth against your skin. It took what was left of your good sense not to drop your scratchy towel and change immediately. You shuffled off to the other side of the room to get dressed.

“That’s so much better!” you gushed once you’d donned the silk ensembled. “Thank you, Ominis.”

“Of course,” he replied. “I’m happy to help you with anything. I mean, anytime! I’m happy to help anytime.”

As you walked back over to his window seat, you could tell he was still blushing. You couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll help you with anything, too,” you replied.

“Yeah?” he asked with a hopeful expression.

You chewed your lip, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you looked down at him. You raised a hand to cup his cheek, and his chin tilted up slightly as his eyes drifted shut. You leaned down, brushing your lips softly against his. In your current state, his lips felt a bit rough but pleasantly warm on yours. Nevertheless, the tender kiss sent a jolt of excitement through you. “Yeah,” you replied.

His tongue flicked out over his lips, and he smirked up at you.

The door rattled as someone tried to enter the locked lavatory. The sudden noise made you jump back.

“Ugh! This is the second time this week!” a muffled but clearly frustrated voice grumbled from the other side.

“Come one, let’s use the one upstairs,” another, much more defeated, voice replied.

“We should probably get moving,” you said, unable to stop the grin that graced your lips.

Ominis chuckled. “Yes, I suppose we should,” he agreed.

You both made your way toward the door. Ominis was much more graceful in the dim lighting than you were, and you almost stumbled right into one of the empty tubs. Fortunately, Ominis either didn’t notice or politely pretended not to. He turned to you right in front of the door, his fingers resting on the handle. He shifted nervously between his feet.

“Once you’re feeling like yourself again, would you like to get dinner with me at the Three Broomsticks?” he asked with an endearingly anxious expression.

You beamed at him. “I’d like that very much.”

He grinned as he pulled the door open for you. “It’s a date, then.”

Of all the things you’d thought you might find in Slytherin’s Scriptorium, a budding romance hadn’t been one of them. Not that you were complaining. Not one bit.

#ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x gn!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt fanfic #ominis gaunt fanfiction #scriptorium

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ultralightpoe · 8 months ago

Text

Music To My Ears - Steve Rogers

Authors Note: A draft from July 2023 -Enjoy!

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 4880

Requests: OPEN

Description: In which you and Steve are connected through music.

Main Master List -

(Thank you for the gif @prettyboy-parker )

x Enjoy! x

Songbirds: When soulmates can hear each others music.

It had always been a bit of a sore wound for Steve growing up, the lack of music in his head. It concerned him and tore him up inside whenever the conversation was brought up, which it so often was.

His mother asked him about it everyday, excitement sparking in her eyes whenever Steve lied and said he heard a song. She would make sure to put it in the record player if they owned the vinyl, if not she would turn up the radio whenever it played. She always smiled and giggled at him, it gutted Steve to know he was lying to her.

The doctor always said that soulmates often try to communicate through music, and tried to work with him to recognize a message, but Steve did not need it since he knew the person didn’t exist.

He didn’t have a soulmate. The thought crushed him.

Bucky often joked about it when Steve finally came clean, saying that his soulmate was probably deaf and that Steve had to have one. This made him feel a little better and a new image emerged, maybe if they were deaf the only way they can listen to music was through him.

How could he deny his soulmate the taste of music?

So he listened to anything and everything he could.

He wore down vinyl after vinyl and when he wasn’t blaring the music he was humming it until he fell asleep.

He hummed to himself before he lost Bucky, he hummed to himself the day the ship he was flying crashed.

“If you’re real or you’re out there then I am so sorry for this.” He whispers, right as a loud crash sounds out and he is submerged within the depths of the water.

He would not be found for another 70 years, it would take 60 hours to dethaw him properly and stabilize his vitals. He would be asleep for another 6 days after that as doctors and nurses poured over his file over and over and over.

But that wasn’t the weirdest thing, no. The weirdest thing happened the day a nurse ran through the halls, her face red and splotchy as she summoned the doctor who followed closely. She tried explaining as much as she could as the doctor read through his file once more.

“This doesn’t make sense… it says he had a soulmate. He had confirmed it years ago.” The doctor mutters, reading the paragraph again.

“Tests were different then, right. They weren’t as advanced as ours.” The nurse tries, moving closer to the man unfrozen.

“I don’t get how this is possible….” The doctor mutters one more time as he blinks at the soldier.

Because Steve Rogers, still asleep from his time in the ice, was humming the tune to a song that had come out that very year.

(It’s 2012. I was imagining want u back by cher Lloyd but your music your choice birdies).

Growing up without any sound in your head while other kids were constantly bragging about theirs made you a bit angry growing up. The song time that your schools enforced, that you knew would never be sent to anyone else out there and made you grind your teeth in anger.

The tests you submitted to monthly, as everyone did, always just made it worse. When they put the metal sticks on your forehead, typing away at their computer as the sound waves to your brain showed up on the screen. They would play music on your end to make sure that it was working, your side always lighting up a light blue color flowers blooming and spreading across the screen. Well they looked like flowers but you knew they weren’t.

But when they turned off the music and did the ringing sound to try and signal your soulmate to answer back nothing came. Not a single thing came.

The screen always remained blank. Each. Time.

You learned to get used to it growing up, at some point the pain and anger ebbed into a phantom limb and you learned to move past. When your friends all found their mates you smiled and attended their weddings, always clapping when they danced to their first song that they found eachother with and sometimes if you were a little too into the drinks you let yourself imagine a life of your own. If you would have a deep song that you could slow dance to on your special night.

But when reality came crashing down it was right back to misery and you always hated the sickening feeling of realization so you tried to fight off those little daydreams. The ups were not worth the downs.

You listened to your own music, branched into hundreds of different genres and played the music so loud you could ignore the rest of the world.

But you were still subjected to the tests, every single month.

Like right now, with the metal readers strapped to your forehead as you sat back in the chair trying not to get agitated by the doctors pitying glance.

“It is good to see you again dear.” He smiles, sliding his stool over to his computer and typing something in. “I look forward to your fun jokes every month.”

“You mean my sarcastic wit that my mother says protects my feelings?” You bite out with a roll of your eyes, looking around the room.

“Ah. Yes. That.” He chuckles. “Alright, you know the process. We’re going to play some music on your end, to make sure the system is working. Then we’ll play the ringing at a frequency to try and rouse your soulmate into playing something back.”

“Just do it.” You snap, letting him press play on the music and turning to see the blue engulf the screen just as it always does. Then it stops and he plays a ringing, it makes your ears hurt as you close your eyes.

Even when he turns it off you can still hear them, like a fire alarm.

But once again. Nothing.

“Alright. Thank you for coming in today. It was wonderful to see you.” Your doctor smiles, and you leave once again feeling that dreaded disappointment.

But you don’t let it get to you, instead you head home and blast the loudest song you can when you make dinner in attempt to ignore the emptiness in your mind.

Maybe if you had kept the music down you might have heard the smallest humming in the back of your mind, an old tune answering the ringing.

A week after they first hear humming they decide they would do the updated soulmate test on the captain with dozens of people that were alive back then strapped to their own testing machines to see if any answered back.

“Alright. It’s all set up. Let’s take a step back and read the vitals.” Doctor Chen orders, making everyone step back as she heads to her computer. After typing a couple codes his brain waves fill the screen, and a moment later she starts playing music to make sure it works.

Blue clouds fill the screen, blossoming quickly at the sound before she shuts the music down, and then a second later ringing sounds and his brain waves crash in displeasure, sliding down and a black filling the screen as they watch slowly.

“Good reaction time for someone who had been frozen last week.” She murmurs which makes he nurse next to her laugh, but then after a moment it happens.

The screen that had gone blank at the silence blossoms with blues and greens as whoever is on the other end plays him something back, everyone staring slack jawed at the screen.

“Holy shit.” Someone murmurs.

“His soulmate is still alive.” Chen smiles, watching the screen.

It happened during work, while you were sorting through files needed for the next meeting, Stark tower empty in this section. It would fill up soon, officials and your bosses would file in within the next 30 minutes and you would be thrown into the chaos of the day.

So for now you were excited for the quiet of the building, breathing in as you set of the conference room with the correct lighting, water, pens and -

The music was so faint you almost didn’t hear it, like a staticky connection that was close to breaking at the slightest notch. You drop everything you had been holding and nearly fall to the ground on shaky knees. Your breath falling into ragged pants.

It takes a moment then it’s gone and you try to relax. It was just you. You’re tricking yourself.

And so you pick yourself up, shaky hands and shaky knees as you wipe the tears that had somehow began falling, moving to pick up your mess before the ringing began and you fall once more.

It’s the first time you had ever heard the ringing from their end and it hurt even more than you would have thought.

It travels down your spine as it traps itself in your head, ringing and ringing and ringing.

“Oh my god are you okay?” Someone calls, hands on your shoulders dragging your attention to the other assistant that worked alongside you.

“Ringing.” You gasp, hands clenched into fists as it finally stops, black spots filling your vision. “It’s so loud.”

“Yeah. It’s uncomfortable on the other end…. Have you never heard it before?” She laughs, moving to grab your phone, her face blanching when you shake your head. “Oh my god. You’ve never heard the ringing! That’s insane!”

You’re confused when she hands you the phone, giving her an incredulous look before she explains. “You have to play music back. The ringing is a call.”

“Right,” you nod, shaking as you grab your phone and pulling it close to pick a song, pressing anything random just to get it over with. You were too confused to process anything. You had never heard this, why now? How old was your soulmate? Oh my god was your soulmate super young? Were you a nasty cougar?

You were gonna vomit.

“I’m sorry, did you play Bee Gees back?” She laughs and you can’t stop a laugh from tearing from your own throat.

Good luck to whoever was on the other end of that.

It was a one off, something you couldn’t explain.

The doctors didn’t know how to explain it either, no one knew what to say about it.

They all gave you pitying glances and odd looks that just made you hate it so much more. You hated the fact that it happened in the first place.

A branch of hope on a dead tree, it didn’t belong there and you were desperate to tear it down.

So, as punishment for yourself, you stopped listening to music entirely. Your headphones stayed on your desk collecting dust and your office at work played no music at all. You refused it.

“Have you heard the new album?” Your friend calls out from her kitchen, you sat glumly on her couch clutching a glass of wine tightly in annoyance.

“No. You already know I’m not-“

“Listening to music blah blah blah.” She laughs, carrying in a tray of food. “That’s so silly. Come on. You love this band and what happened was weird. But it hasn’t happened since. You’ve heard no other music. Just give in and listen to something.”

“No. Stop pressuring me.” You snap back, shaking your head.

That night when you went to bed you grew more and more frustrated by the old music playing through your head, staticky and driving you nuts. After all this time you were finally going crazy.

You stressed about a soulmate so much that you couldn’t help it.

Steve couldn’t hear the music and it was killing him. He could barely register his own limbs, his body cold and numb, itching to move his fingers. He just wanted to hear the voice that started waking him up in the first place.

The wonderful, alluring voice, he was desperate for them to sing again. Hum. Anything.

Give me something. Anything. Please.

His fingers prick, the needle feeling passing through him as he tries his hardest to move them. Please please please please.

“His vitals are peaking. He might be waking up.” A voice whispers. “Let’s get the room ready.”

Please sing. Or hum. Or play something. Give me a reason to wake up. Please.

Before he knows it there is a radio playing on his side, a game by the sounds of it, and he can’t seem to open his eyes.

Then, louder than it normally was without the static sound, he hears the music in his mind. A soft violin sound, followed by a piano. It takes him a second to recognize the nutcracker, a smile breaking out as he did his best to open his eyes. For the person on the other end he would do this.

His soulmate. He would wake up for his soulmate.

“You can try to send messages.” Doctor Payne smiles, an actual excited smile for you. “Through the music. How long have you been hearing music now?”

“3 weeks.” You answer, nodding numbly. “And it’s like full now, if that makes sense. It’s not staticky. I can actually hear it now.”

“What have they been playing?”

“Old music. Really old music.” You smile. “I’m hoping to god it’s not a kid. The older music is a good sign right?”

You were back for your monthly visit, but this time you were excited.

“Okay. Do you recognize any of the songs?”

“Some. Not enough to get a message from it.”

“Okay. Let’s see.” He moves to type in the codes and your brain waves fill the screen. This time you chose the music, something old, and you get a little nervous.

“D-do we have to do the ringing? It’s louder on their end.” You mumble, body heating. “It hurts.”

“It was your first time experiencing it. That probably made it worse.”

“Yeah; but what about them? Won’t it hurt them as well?”

“Let’s see.” He smiles softly, the music stops. One breath, followed by another, and then the ringing starts and you close your eyes feeling a little guilty.

When it stops it’s silent, and you wait with shaky hands. And just when you think you’ve gone nuts and imagined it all, getting ready to bolt before Dr. Payne sends you to the loony bin.

But the sounds of the nutcracker start playing, and a wide smile spreads across your face.

The very song that you had played a while ago, the first song you listened to after your self inflicted punishment.

“I hear it.” You smile, and your doctor laughs.

“I can tell.” It’s then you look at the screen, seeing a mix of colors blooming along with the blue. Joy sparking in your chest at the new world.

He had rooms in the tower, and a tutor to try and teach him all the updated tech. But the furthest he could get was a flip phone, and that already confused him enough, but he has a radio that plays all the classics for him.

And he had whoever is on the other end of his mind, giving him enough music to listen to while he works out in the gym.

Right now, his wonderful soulmate, was playing something he didn’t recognize but didn’t mind. His blood thrumming as he fixed his leather jacket while trying to figure out his way through the halls.

“Dr. Chen!” He calls when he sees her, making the woman stare at him with wide eyes. “I was told you had done my soulmate testing? You were searching or something?”

He tried to maintain eye contact and be as respectful as he could, but all he could do was nod his head to the music and tap his hand as Dr. Chen smiles smugly at him.

“They playing music right now?” She asks, nodding her head for him to follow her as she makes her way through the halls. “What are they playing?”

“S-something about… living on a prayer?” He smiles, following her into her office as she turns back with a wave of recognition. “You know it?”

“Bon Jovi.” She nods, searching on her computer before turning to him. “The results from the nursing homes came back inconclusive. We tried reaching out to other clinics to see if anyone answered the call. They usually report it to their own doctors for a chance to narrow down the search so whoever you called definitely did not know what to do.”

A wave of guilt fills him at that, making him fidget a bit in his seat as the song changes to another upbeat song.

“Due to the progression of the music we do believe that you are connected to someone in their 20s to 30s.” A breath of relief falls from his lips that makes him feel even worse. He was just happy that his soulmate wasn’t waiting for him for 70 years. “The Taylor swift and Motley Crue mix clued us in on that one.”

“Who?”

“And the nickel back. There is no grandma out there listening to nickel back.” She laughs are her own joke, stopping short when she realizes he’s not laughing.

“Should I be listening to them? Who are they? Is it one person? Nickel?” He rushes out, feeling a little nervous. “Do you think they hate my old style music?”

“I have no idea on that one.” She laughs. “Take a breath. It will all be fine.”

He goes to ask another question before a ringing breaks his concentration, his eyes drifting to the phone on her desk. She rushes to pick it up, mumbling out a response before hanging up.

“They are sending someone down with some papers, but you can ask questions before she gets here.”

“That would be great. What is Nickelback?”

You had been playing music in your office all day, with no response from your soulmate unfortunately. That didn’t matter though, because you were still high and giddy at the fact that you had a soulmate.

But your little concert in your office was cut short when you were sent to hand off ‘top secret’ files to Dr. Chen. You found that everything in this place was top secret.

Right now everyone was freaking out over some science project that you had heard a couple whispers about. Something with ice and a man. Not much to figure out but it’s not like you cared.

You got this job by minding your own business.

And what did it matter anyways? You have a soulmate.

The halls to Stark tower were easy to navigate, and you still were so out of it that you got a little lost towards the end before you found her office, knocking lightly.

“Come in.” She answers and you swing the door, surprised to see a blonde haired man turning to you with big eyes.

The blue of them makes you stop short, a blush crossing your body as you blink before a wave of guilt crashes over you. You had a soulmate and you’re here ogling at this guy?

Come on.

“Sorry to interrupt. You requested these?” You look away, turning to her instead and passing over the files. “Have a good one.”

“Wait! Mr. Rogers here needs to go to the main levels but he might need help getting there. Think you can show him?”

“No problem.” You shrug, nodding at him without making eye contact and waiting for him to get up before leading the way.

Steve follows you through the halls after you introduce yourself, feeling a little guilty at the blush that crosses him when you look at him.

He had been so upset about not having a soulmate for the longest time, and now that he does he is getting flustered over the first beautiful gal he sees? Talk about shooting yourself in the foot.

“So you’re new here?” You ask after a moment of silence, pulling your badge out to get clearance for the elevator.

“Relatively.” He responds, trying not to make eye contact and keeping his voice short. He could not waste time flirting with everyone else when he had a soulmate out there.

“Right.” You mumble, obviously a little put off by the shortness in his tone as the elevator opens and you are both enveloped in with the weird music.

He wonders if his soulmate could hear it, feeling a little silly that they might think he was actually listening to this as you fiddle with your badge awkwardly.

After a moment he breaks the silence, pointing to the speaker. “You think your soulmate hears this music?”

Your eyes light up instantly, and you stand a little straighter. “Maybe. I hope they respond if they can. I love hearing their music back.”

“Me too.” He agrees, feeling something loosen in his chest at the mention of soulmates. “I can only hope they like my music too.”

“I’m sure they do. I’m always so desperate to hear them that I never really care about the music itself more of the fact that it’s playing.” You respond, nodding a bit when the elevator rings. “This is your stop,”

He thanks you, moving to leave quickly. But the further his steps make from you he still hears the elevator music playing, confusion lacing him as his soulmates humming begins to the same elevator tune.

He turns, down the hall, watching as the doors close with you humming inside. Recognition and sparks fly through him as he tries calling out, dashing to the door but it was too late and they were already closed. He tried to press the buttons but without an access badge it was useless.

And in his lame attempt of morality he completely missed your name.

Just his luck.

“You cannot be serious,” you laugh, rubbing your head in frustration as you try to sleep in a little longer. But it was no use, your soulmate was on a mission.

For the past 3 days over the weekend all that had been playing in your head was elevator music, over and over and over.

You assumed that whoever was on the other end took meal breaks because you got at least an hour each day of silence before they were back to it, the sound of it beginning to grate at your nerves. What had you done to deserve this abuse? This was truly incomprehensible.

Anger fills you as you launch from bed, stressed from the lack of sleep and snatch your headphones, digging through your playlist until you find the heaviest rock music you can. Two can play that game soulmate.

“Oh, good morning Mr. Rogers.” Dr. Chen smiles, her eyes bright with shock as she takes in his appearance. This reaction didn’t surprise him, it was the way everyone had been reacting as more and more people found out that Captain America was living in the building.

But this reaction from Dr. Chen was a bit odd considering she knew him by now. “I’m a bit shocked that you are up this early.”

“I usually spend time in the gym.” He rushes out, shrugging. “Can’t shake the military time- hey that person that dropped off the file the other day? Do you remember her- oh my.”

Before he can finish his sentence loud music blasts in his ears, making him cringe a bit. “Oh.”

“Are you okay?” She asks, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“Yeah. Just my soulmate playing music I’ve never heard. But enough about that, that girl that came in with the files? You know her?”

“Yes! She’s worked here for awhile. Very nice. You liked her?”

“Well I think she’s my soulmate.” He blushes before launching into the tale.

She looks shocked and like she’s fighting off laughter when he stops. “You’ve been standing in the elevator all weekend? Listening to this music?”

“Yes?”

She laughs loudly before pulling him out of the elevator and walking him to her office. “I can guarantee you are about to have a very cranky soulmate.”

You were aggravated, thoroughly aggravated. At least the elevator music stopped but you had gotten no sleep.

So as you marched to your office just to see multiple messages requesting you to Chens office immediately and you groan loudly, snatching the headphones out of your ears.

Something had to have gone wrong with those files, and you were in no mood to get into trouble over it. Whatever stupid science project they had was beginning to grate on everyone and they were getting angry about it. You can pick up the tension easily.

Your pass allows access to the halls, spine tense as you make your way to her office, knocking lightly before it opens and you see her and the man from the other day standing awkwardly.

“Thank you for coming. It seems we’ve had a change of… situation.” She smiles before his hand shoots out to you and both of you jump back at the force of it.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m Steve.” He blushes, easing himself a bit and relaxing his hand for you to shake once more.

“Rogers…. Your name is Steve Rogers.” You laugh. “How many times do you get asked about Captain America?”

He blinks at you and Chen snorts.

“I actually kind of know a Steven Grant. I haven’t met him in person but he works at a museum that we contact a lot and he’s actually so sweet.” You hush before stopping when you realize they are both staring at you. “Off topic. What’d you call me down here for?”

“I think I’m your soulmate.” He blurts.

“And this is actually Captain America.”

Holy. Shit.

For lack of better words you scram.

After years of begging the universe for a soulmate when you finally come face to face with the possibility of meeting your soulmate, what more was there to do but run?

Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers thought he was your soulmate.

You had so many questions. You had no clue where to run, so you stop short and turn back quickly, dashing back down the hall to run back to the office and you somehow run into him chest to chest sending you sprawling back on the ground.

“Jesus! You brick wall!” You shriek, standing up quickly as he blinks at you with his own panicked look.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t expect you to run back!” He rushes out, hands shooting out grab your shoulders in an effort to stabilize you. “I… I have so many questions.”

“Me too.” You blink, a moment of silence passing before you both blurt out a question at the same time.

“What was with the elevator music?”

“What music were you blasting this morning?”

“Nope. No.” Steve calls from somewhere else in the house, pulling your attention to the stairs and waiting to hear him rush for you.

Three years of marriage and you were still finding music he hated, right now that ended up being Cardi B.

You hear his feet on the steps and wait patiently until he comes into the door with a scowl. “Why do you do this?”

His eyebrows are pulled together in frustration as he shuffles closer to turn off the radio, looking around the room in his normal attempt to make sure everything is all safe. Just as he always had, checking every window and exit as a precaution before coming up to you and wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up to kiss your lips.

“I liked that song.” You muffle against his lips, smiling cheekily which makes him sigh and pull back from the kiss.

“I could have gone my whole life without knowing what WAP was.” He groans, setting you down with a quick kiss on your forehead before moving to your computer to change the song. You watch closely, moving closer to his desk as he glares down at yours, typing slowly before he hums at his choice.

Even the smallest hum still sounds out in your mind, sending shivers down your spine before the sounds of cheesy elevator music sound out making you laugh.

“No! Please no!” You call, rolling your eyes as he dances closer until he gets to you and lifts you onto his desk so he can slot himself between your thighs.

“It was a great plan!”

“No it wasn’t!”

“I hoped you could recognize the music! I didn’t know your name and I had no access to the building!” He blushes. “I had to beg someone to let me onto the elevator every morning just to do it.”

“You know how long I heard people whispering about you before I actually met you.” You laugh, rubbing at his shoulders. “Now I love you, but if I have to hear one more track of elevator music I will burn this building down.”

He laughs, leaning to kiss you deeply before turning off the music and hauling you to your shared room.

After so many years of waiting for your soulmate it all ended up being with it in the end.

#marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #marvel smut #marvel fluff #marvel angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fandom #steve rogers

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stevesbestgirl · 1 year ago

Text

Phases of the Moon - Part 4

Steven Grant x f!Reader, eventual Marc Spector x f!Reader

4880 words

Warnings: mutual pining, idiots in love, chances of a few swears, reader is still oblivious in the beginning and as always, painfully American, reader has a few moments of insecurity

A/N: Not a warning, but honestly, this is disgusting. Like it’s so cute it should be illegal. And I’m not sorry. Steven Grant being an absolute sweetheart means that it’s all fair game. Posting the first date in two parts at the same time because it’s ridiculously long.

As always, keep in mind that I am not a system and am not an expert. All of my information about their relationship comes from the Moon Knight show and I use that as my reference point.

*Bold type is spoken by Marc when Steven is fronting.*

Masterlist

“Steven?” You were surprised to see he was calling you. You hadn’t made plans with him for Saturday, had you?

“Could you come to the museum today?” Steven skipped the greetings, his words blending together in his haste to get them out.

You chuckled, “I suppose I could. Are we touring more today?”

“Not today. But if it’s alright, I’d sort of like it to be a surprise.”

Your brows pinched; what was he up to now? “Alright then. It’s not more of those awful candies from the gift shop, is it?” You’d dared Steven to try one after he’d complained about their lack of relevance to Egypt, arguing that they were still a good product if they tasted good. They were not a good product, as it turned out and you’d both found out the hard way.

He laughed, the sound making your heart skip, even over the phone, “No, it’s a good surprise. At least I think it is.”

Now curiosity was gnawing at you a bit, “What time then?”

“When can you arrive?”

“Maybe a half hour, depending on if the bus is running on time.”

“Let’s say twelve then- don’t want you rushin’ around.” His words didn’t quite match his eager tone.

“Right, guess I’ll see you in a bit then.”

You really weren’t sure what to make of any of this; it was outside your routine with Steven- outside the carefully laid boundaries you’d set for yourself. But you still hung up and got dressed, said goodbye to Dalton, and headed out to wait for the bus.

Meanwhile, Steven was fiddling with his collar in the mirror, “I don’t know why I have to try the tie every time- I know it doesn’t work.”

“You’re a mystery, Steven,” Marc quipped. He liked seeing Steven all whipped up like this. “Maybe you should try the jacket again.”

Steven stared at his reflection in the mirror for a moment, “Don’t be putting ideas into my head, I’m all mixed up as it is.” He glanced at his phone on the bedside table, “D’you think she sounded excited?”

“About the gift shop candies? No.”

“Marc-”

“Fine. But isn’t it a little hard to be excited about something you don’t know about?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Steven admitted, his excitement quickly morphing into nervousness.

“She sounded happy to hear from you, Steven. Don’t overthink it. Just listen to your gut. And me.”

“Right. Gotta listen to my gut.”

“And me.”

Steven hesitated, “Sure.”

At five to twelve, you stepped off the bus and crossed the street to the museum. You’d thought you would see Steven out front, but there were only a few stray patrons on their way into the museum. Making your way up the steps, you paused in the entrance, spotting Donna at the information desk.

Skirting around the edge of the room, you made a beeline for the gift shop, but you heard Donna’s voice call out, “Oi, you!” You kept walking, hoping she wasn’t talking to you, but then her footsteps approached, “Hang on a second, would you?” How was it possible for someone to be so disagreeable so consistently?

You looked now and she was indeed speaking to you and, as always, she looked rather cross, “Sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“Are you out of your mind, bringing food into a museum?” Your expression must have betrayed you because she looked a bit smug, “That’s right, JB told me about last night. He also told me that our boy Stevie got all riled up when he shooed you out.” She smirked at that, as though the idea of Steven upset was somehow satisfying.

“Actually-”

“I haven’t got time to hear your reasons, alright? I know you and Stevie had a date scheduled for yesterday or whatever, but just because your boyfriend works here doesn’t mean you can do whatever you please.”

“Steven and I are-”

She cut you off again, “I won’t ban you this time because I suspect he might just quit if I did and I need someone to cover the shop next week, but don’t press your luck, you understand?”

You’d given up on replying, so you just nodded, absently wondering if Steven had called it a date or if Donna was paraphrasing. Donna cocked an eyebrow, “You mute or something? I said, do you understand?”

“Yes, I’ve got it.”

“Right. Then trot on- he’s in the gift shop.” She shook her head, “In on his day off again-” the rest of her musing was unintelligible as you parted ways.

Donna was right about one thing; Steven was in the gift shop, fiddling with his unruly curls in the mirror behind the counter while the staff member manning the counter tried awkwardly to avoid meeting his gaze. You watched him for a second, a small smile at the corners of your mouth.

He looked a bit more put together today, if only a bit. His shirt was plain, not one of the patterned ones he normally seemed to favor. His jacket didn’t seem quite as wrinkled as usual either, almost like he’d made a vain attempt at ironing it.

“Got a big date tonight, Steven?” It was a stupid thing to say; what would you do if he said yes? But he was too cute not to tease, fussing over his hair as if he would ever cooperate with him.

He gave a start, whipping around and burying his hands deep in his pockets to hide the evidence. He shuffled over to you, hands still buried, and the awkward gait almost made you laugh aloud; he was definitely nervous about something.

Steven tried to smile, but it almost looked painful, “I was, ah- actually sort of hoping that might be the case.”

Your eyebrows pinched together, “You were…hoping you’d have a date?” He was biting his lip, his hands still buried in his pockets; that one stray curl was slowly being pulled back into its usual spot by gravity, determined to spite his efforts at styling it.

And then you got it, just as Steven spoke again, “Would you wanna- you know, go on a date with me today?” Your lips parted in surprise; you’d resigned yourself to never hearing those words. Your moment of shock was enough time for Steven to lose a bit of his nerve, “It’s alright if not, apologies if I’m out of line-”

“I’d love to.”

He didn’t seem to notice your response, “I’d be devastated if you and I weren’t friends anymore, so I understand-”

“Steven,” you said, more firmly this time. “I’d love to go out with you.”

There was another pause as your words sunk in, “You would? You’re not just having a laugh? Because I’ll be crushed if you are, honestly-”

A laugh bubbled out of you and you reached for him, hesitating a bit, “Is it alright if I-”

He nodded rapidly, “Y-yeah, course.”

You wrapped your arms around his middle in a hug, tucking your head into his shoulder. He did seem surprised at first, his arms rising to make room for you and then hovering for a few moments before he gently rested them on your back.

You breathed deeply, that distinctly “Steven” scent washing over you. “I thought I was just pining like an idiot,” you admitted, your words muffled.

Steven felt like he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a hug- a real hug. And it was you. Your head was tucked against his shoulder, your breath on his neck. Realizing he’d been holding his own breath, he forced himself to exhale and then inhale. It took a couple of repetitions to find a rhythm again. He could smell something sweet; he wasn’t sure if it was perfume or just soap, but he thought it might be making him dizzy. Or maybe that was just you.

He knew he was too stiff- unused to the sensation of that much physical contact, but god, he didn’t want you to go. He wanted to hold you like this for as long as you’d let him. If he was being honest, he wasn’t even sure what you’d been asking for, but he would’ve agreed to just about anything you’d asked.

And you’d been pining for him? He’d been a bit pleased with himself for deducing that you’d liked him, but it was entirely different to hear you say it out loud.

His heart ached when you pulled away, unwinding your arms from around his back, but then you smiled and he didn’t mind as much.

You couldn’t have put the relief you felt into words if you’d tried. You glanced around the gift shop; the clerk was still pointedly looking anywhere but at you two and you felt a bit guilty. Grabbing Steven’s hand, you pulled him into the next room, “Not that I mind, but why didn’t you just ask me out when you called?”

Steven looked a bit affronted at the question, “Well you don’t ask someone on a date over the phone, do you?”

You smiled at his conviction, “Of course not. The only proper place to ask a girl out is in a museum.”

“Well, it’s not the only place-” he paused, “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Only a little.”

That warm glow swept up his cheeks, “I should have asked you when we were here last week, except I botched it. So I thought that maybe if I did it here for real, I could- you know- do it over.” He followed up quickly, “I’m sorry about that, by the way. I’ve wanted to take you on a date since the first day I saw you, but I didn’t want to rush it, you know? And I’m sure it seemed like that was what I was asking, but it never even occurred to me since I wanted to take you on a proper date, ‘cause that’s what you deserve.”

Steven was rambling; you probably should have stopped him, but instead, you listened to him speak, a faint smile on your face. He was, without a doubt, the sweetest man you’d ever met.

He stopped, noticing the way you were watching him, “And here I’m going on and on and you can’t get a word in edgewise- that’s fantastic, Steven.” He bopped himself on the temple with his palm in a show of penance before you had the chance to speak.

“I like listening to you talk.”

“I think you’d be the first,” he chuckled, suddenly self-conscious.

“I’m quite happy to be,” you assured him. “Shall we get started then?”

Steven nodded, “Right, yeah- I thought we could get some lunch. You haven’t eaten yet, have you? I should I have said something on the phone, but I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes-”

You were smiling again, “Lunch sounds good, Steven.”

“Great. After you then?”

He gestured grandly, making you laugh, and following you out into the lobby. You could see Donna muttering something to JB at security as you and Steven left the museum together.

He began walking down the sidewalk and you followed his lead, “So was yesterday supposed to be a date then? Donna seemed to think so.” You couldn’t help teasing a bit more; you were feeling giddy.

“I meant to ask you to dinner after the tour.” He looked a bit chagrined, “I thought dinner might be a bit more romantic.”

You felt the corner of your mouth twitch upward, “We could have done dinner today, if you’d have preferred.”

The rosy glow returned to his cheeks, “Well I wanted to, but I wasn’t sure I could wait all day to call you.”

You leaned in, your shoulder brushing his, “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“When did you talk to Donna?”

“She caught me on my way in- scolded me a bit about the pizza. Said she wouldn’t ban me this time only because she didn’t want you to quit.” He looked a bit distressed until you gave him a reassuring smile. Your hand brushed the back of his. You were walking close on purpose, hoping he might take the lead, but he’d been taking things slow, so you didn’t want to rush him.

He chuckled in disbelief, “She said she didn’t want me to quit?”

“Well, she said she needed you to work the desk next week.”

“Now that sounds more like Donna,” he grimaced. Though he quickly brightened, “Ah, here we are.” He stopped outside a little cafe; it was rather cute, with little, iron-wrought tables out front under the awning. He peered into the front window, looking like he’d suddenly remembered his nerves.

“Have you been here before?”

“Just once. I thought it was quite nice, so I made sure to remember it in case- well, in case I ever had someone to bring.”

“It looks cute. Shall we get a table?”

He nodded, rushing to get the door for you, smiling at your flustered thank you. The woman manning the counter smiled, “Will it be two then?”

Steven’s head bobbed rapidly, “Yes, two. Just us- on a date, you know.” He cleared his throat and you glanced at him, trying not to smile. He grimaced, “Sorry. Bit nervous.”

The server smiled, “That’s lovely. Pick a table wherever you like and I’ll be over for your drinks in just a few moments.”

“What do you think? Outside?” you prompted, trying to save Steven the anxiety of deciding where to sit.

“Sure- I mean, yes, that sounds quite nice.”

You led the way back out, opening the door for him, which sent him tumbling into a spout of flustered thanks intermingled with halfhearted protests. As if to compensate, he pulled your chair out for you before taking his own seat across from you, looking like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands.

You gave him what you hoped was a reassuring smile, “You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just like all the times we chatted at the museum. You were never nervous then.”

He smiled weakly in return, “Hard to be nervous when you’re spoutin’ off facts about ancient Egypt, innit?”

“I’m just as interested in what you have to say now as I was then. Arguably, I never cared so much about Egypt as I do when you tell me about it,” you admitted.

“I suppose that explains why your pronunciations could use some work.”

You opened your mouth, gasping in mock offense, “You said I was getting better!”

Steven panicked, “Oh god, I was only trying to tease you, they aren’t really that bad-” He cut off when you smiled, catching on to the joke again.

You laughed, “I’m sorry I keep teasing you, Steven. It’s sweet how you get so flustered.”

He chuckled weakly, “Maybe that’s why Donna is always so cross with me.”

He was joking, so he was surprised to see your expression harden, “I hope this doesn’t sound rude, but why do you stay at the museum when she’s so awful to you? I know you love Egypt, but I’m sure there’s lots of other jobs that could use someone as smart as you.” You spoke with conviction, but your gaze kept pulling to where his hand rested on the table.

He glanced down at his shoes, “Well, I would really like to become a guide someday. You’re givin' me too much credit anyway.”

“I’m definitely not giving you too much credit, Steven,” you insisted. “You know so much about Egypt; you’re probably overqualified to be a guide. Donna is wasting your potential. And even if she won’t make you a guide, she should treat you better.”

He shrugged, “It’s not so bad. I like spending time at the museum. Plus, I’m lucky to have got my job back after I got binned.”

“They fired you?” you asked incredulously.

Steven rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah, I deserved it though. Bunked off for a couple of days without calling.”

You looked puzzled; you couldn’t imagine anything making Steven jeopardize his job, “Like a mental health thing?”

He offered a weak smile, “Something like that.”

You weren’t planning to press; you knew how that could go, but the silence was saved by the arrival of the server, offering you the lunch menus and taking your drink orders. Steven ordered a white tea and while you were tempted just to get the same as him, you were afraid you might not like it; you didn’t have much experience with tea. You ordered a chai tea, the only kind you really recognized on the menu.

You wanted to mention the fact that you were on a leave of absence from your own job- maybe it would make him feel better. But talking about that was a direct line to why you’d come here in the first place and that wasn’t exactly a first date topic.

So instead you tipped your head, “I suppose as long as you’re happy there. I’ll try to hold my tongue with Donna, if only for your sake.”

“Sorry love, I’m afraid she’ll probably have it out for you if you’re associated with me.” He looked genuinely apologetic, like you may have wanted the opportunity to be friends with his witch of a boss.

“You think? Maybe if I tell her we’ve had an awful time, she’ll forgive me and I can get back on her good side.”

He gave a hesitant chuckle, like he couldn’t tell if you were joking, “If you insult me enough, I’m sure you could.” He paused a moment, “You’re not, are you? Having an awful time, I mean.”

“I’m actually having quite a lovely time with you, Steven,” you slid your hand across the table, brushing the edge of his fingers with yours.

“There we are, two teas: a chai and a white.” Steven quickly moved his arm out of the way as the server returned with the drinks. You did the same, busying yourself toying with the menu. “Do you both know what you’ll have?”

You placed your orders and the server disappeared again, taking the menus with her. You gave your tea a cautionary, cooling blow before taking a sip. Steven watched you curiously, making you a bit self-conscious, “What? Am I drinking my tea like an American?”

He grinned guiltily, “A bit, yeah, actually.”

You raised an eyebrow, “How is that then?” You rested your chin in your palm, waiting for his answer.

“You sipped it like you were afraid of it,” he chuckled, drinking his own, the correct way, you presumed.

You let your hand fall to the table with indignation, “I haven’t had much tea up until now. Apologies if I’m not a natural tea drinker.” You rolled your eyes, hoping he was catching on to when you were joking.

He moved quickly, like he was afraid to lose his nerve, resting his hand on top of yours on the table, “I think it’s quite cute, actually.” He tipped his head to your cup, resolutely not looking at your hands on the table, as though you’d believe he was feeling nonchalant, “How d’you like it then?”

You bit your lip to suppress a smile, flicking your gaze to his, “Not bad. I could be a tea girl.”

Once it became clear that you weren’t going to pull away from his touch, he curled his fingers around yours. His palms were surprisingly rough. He swallowed a bit thickly, “I could make some different kinds for you to try sometime, if you wanted.”

“I’d like that.”

His thumb brushed gently over the back of your hand, the movement slow and deliberate, “D’you wanna try a bit of mine?”

You gave him a small smirk, “Drinking from the same cup? That’s a bit like indirect kissing, isn’t it Steven?”

His eyes went wide, “I didn’t mean anything untoward. You’re right, that was a bit silly-”

Your laugh broke his train of thought and he faltered, “I’d love to try it, Steven.” You held out your free hand toward the cup, “Unless you mind, of course.”

He shook his head, “No- no, course not.”

You paused before taking a sip, “D’you want to try mine? Fair’s fair.”

He looked surprised at your offer, but he nodded, reaching for your cup, his hand looking a bit shaky. You raised his cup in a small toast, smiling at him before taking a sip.

“Pretty good,” you admitted, returning his cup to its saucer in front of him. “And you?”

He nodded again, “Good.” He liked the faint spice of a chai tea, but he couldn’t think of anything other than the fact that your lips probably had that same spice lingering on them right now. But he was getting ahead of himself. He was already pleased just to be holding your hand. Just brushing his thumb over your soft skin made his heart race.

So when the server came over with the food, he almost wished it had taken longer because he wasn’t ready yet. He thought he might have to manually unwind his fingers from your hand because he really didn’t want to let go, but when the moment came, he released you, not realizing that his emotions were transparently displayed on his face.

You thanked the server and waited until she departed to smile at Steven, “You’ll get to hold my hand again, Steven.”

He gave a weak chuckle, “Am I that obvious then?”

“A little. But I think it’s very sweet.”

He still looked a bit nervous before blurting out, “Sorry. I’m a bit new at this sort of thing.” His expression changed instantly to one of regret; like he’d had an agreement not to disclose that particular tidbit and failed to keep his word.

You had questions; how new did he mean exactly? But it was obvious that he was embarrassed by it, so rather than ask your questions, you sampled a fry from your plate, “That’s alright- no shame there. I’d rather you be a bit new than some tosser who thinks he knows everything.” You laughed at the new word, “Did I use that right? I’m still learning the slang here.”

He nodded, “Yeah, that’s how you use it.” He took a moment, appearing to rouse himself, “But you’ve gotta sort of throw it away- like you don’t care. It’s not a word you use quite so deliberately; it’s more like they’re an afterthought, yeah?” He seemed to remember his own food, suddenly realizing he could eat.

You nodded, pleased to see him relax a bit again, “Right, I’ll remember that. I’ve started picking up a few things from my cousin and his wife, so if I misuse something, you’ll need to let me know, alright? I’m counting on you to keep me from sounding like an idiot.”

“Well, I might not be the best for that job- I’m fairly certain I sound like a knob all the time.”

“You do not!” You rolled your eyes, “Just because Donna and JB don’t appreciate you doesn’t mean you’re- what was it, a knob?”

His face flushed; he wondered if he should have chosen his words more carefully- not very romantic for a first date, “Yeah that was it.”

“What’s that one mean then?” He almost choked on his food and you followed hastily, “Oh god, I was only teasing you, Steven. I know what it means. I’m so sorry.”

But he wasn’t annoyed at your ill-timed joke, he only cleared his throat, muttering, “Oh, thank the gods.”

You made a little sound of excitement, “Oh! Speaking of the gods, we’re still going to finish our tour, right?”

Steven cocked his head, “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Well, you said the museum tour wasn’t your idea of a date, but I would quite like to finish it. I might’ve been more interested in learning about you than the museum the first few times I came back, but now I’m a bit invested. In both, actually.”

Steven gazed at you, his eyes soft, “You came back because you were interested in me?”

“Well, the first time I came in, I really meant to just walk the museum that day. But I was a bit embarrassed after making a fool of myself-”

“You got knocked over, that’s nothing to be embarrassed of,” Steven interjected.

You raised an eyebrow, “So if someone knocked you down in front of a pretty girl, you wouldn’t be embarrassed at all?”

“Well of course I would, but I’m no pretty girl, am I?” he gave a nervous chuckle.

“Steven, you are very handsome, first of all. And second of all, you were so sweet to me that day that I was absolutely mortified. So I bailed and decided to come back and hope I would run into you again.” You sipped your tea to cover your embarrassment.

Steven couldn’t seem to formulate a response, but you took that as a positive sign, considering he had a dopey half-smile on his face. You wondered how far and few between compliments were for him to react this way; he seemed so stunned by your interest in him.

“At risk of sounding forward, I’d like to go out with you again, but I don’t want to give up the tour. So maybe you can make an exception for me and we can plan a date to finish the tour so I can stop wasting your breaks.”

That appeared to break him from his stupor, “You haven’t wasted anything- spending time with you is the best way I can think of to use my break time- or any time, really.”

You smiled, “I do like visiting you. But if I keep making you go over on your break, I might end up banned from the museum.”

“Maybe I would quit then,” he offered.

You pointed a fry at him, “I wouldn’t let you. We can follow the rules so no one gets banned or fired.”

“You know, if you’re feeling up to it, we could go back to the museum today,” he suggested, hesitating a moment before clarifying, “If you want to, of course.”

You nodded, “I’d like that.”

He held your gaze seriously, “You’ll still come to visit me on my break even once we’ve finished the tour, yeah?”

You laughed, his intensity making you self-conscious, “Of course I will.”

“Then we’ve got a deal.” He beamed, making your heart skip. You’d been on one date with the man and you were already good and smitten. Steven raised his hand to signal the server that you were ready for the bill and you reached for your wallet. “Come on now, put that away,” he insisted. “Call me old-fashioned, but it’s on me.”

“Steven-”

“I asked you here today, it’s only right that I should pay.” As the server approached with the bill, he hastily placed a few notes into her hand before she could even drop the slip on the table, “Keep the change, love.” Hearing him call the server “love” made a tiny spark of jealousy erupt in the pit of your stomach.

But he sprang out of his seat, rushing around the table to help you push back your chair and offering you a hand up. As you stood, he not-so-subtly slipped his hand into yours. You smirked at him, “Smooth.”

He dropped your hand, “Oh god, sorry, is it a bit much?”

You laughed, chasing his hand with yours, “Wait, come back!” Steven thought his heart might stop as you laced your fingers through his. “You don’t have to be so nervous, you know. I like you a lot, Steven.” You wrinkled your nose, “That is a bit much for a first date, huh?”

He shook his head, “No- yeah- I like you quite a bit.” God, you made him want to relax, but every time he did he grew too bold. He wanted to treat you with respect. And god forbid he do something to offend, making you come to your senses and tell him to get lost.

You half smiled, “I don’t think ‘quite a bit’ is very much compared to ‘a lot,’ you know. Should I be offended?” You made no move to remove your hand from his, so he was pretty sure you were teasing.

“No offense intended. I like you a great deal. And I think you’re quite lovely, I might add.”

You looked away, your lips betraying you with a smile, “Normally I wouldn’t believe such a nice comment, but if you spend all your time with Donna and JB, I’m sure even I seem lovely in comparison.”

Steven spoke before he could talk himself out of it, “You’d seem stunning next to a rose, love.”

Despite all of your effort to brush off your embarrassment, your face burned, “Bit prickly though, aren’t they?"

“Some things are worth gettin’ stuck on, yeah?” He brushed his thumb over your knuckle where your fingers were intertwined.

You were entirely speechless. He was so earnest that you couldn’t even be annoyed about how cliche that was because he seemed to really mean it. You gave his hand a little squeeze in lieu of a response; nothing you could come up with was the right way to reply to something like that.

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant fluff #steven grant fanfic #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fluff #phases of the moon series

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turtletaubwrites · 6 months ago

Text

Numbers Game ~ Part 25

The Delightful and Dangerous Show

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 4880

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

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

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

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Grief, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

“Everything in your world is boring.”

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

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

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

“What did you—“

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

“She told you…”

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

“Our CFO has some duties to attend to.”

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

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

He didn’t sell me…

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

“Need a break, sweetheart?”

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

Crocodile needed to break things.

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

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

Only this liquor.

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

I break everything.

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

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

His hook.

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

But that blood...

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

He had always been a bad man.

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

“Fuck!”

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

“I didn’t mean to…”

The only thing that could stop this feeling was acceptance.

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

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

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

~~~~~~

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

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

Too many things. Too many things were happening.

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

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s terrified of me.

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

I’m just a monster.

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

“Daddy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want you to touch me, please.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart."

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gods…”

“Mm, there ya go, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another small, but real laugh left your throat.

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

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

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

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

I need her.

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

At his need to comfort her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They glared at the crowd, and you almost laughed.

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

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

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

You hated being lost in there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck?

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

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

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

Did I already fail?

There he was.

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

Is that what I look like? Fucking–

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

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

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

“Cedrick is fine, thank you.”

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

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

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

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~

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

“Please, call me Arbo.”

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

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

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

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

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

“But I haven't told—“

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

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

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

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

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

No wonder Roger liked this family.

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

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

~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

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

I can help them. I’ll help her.

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

It's something.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s my sweet girl.”

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe…

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

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

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

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

“Damned ferret.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m a bad person too, Daddy.

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

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

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

“Alvida, bring out the real party favor.”

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

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

She’s gonna hate me.

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

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

Not a single, wretched soul rose from their seats.

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

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

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

But he had always been a bad man.

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

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

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a/n: Morals? Who needs 'em 🤷‍♀️

Part 26

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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