#and link hit me so hard with scar angst

[angeart]

Aaaaange, why doesn't Scar feel safe at that moment? More Tease pretty please? -🎀

oh i can do more than tease for this one :3c

[1,2k ramble + 8,5k rp snippets]

you know how we talked about the post-return situation, with the hermits raising potential allegations against scar? worried that he might be hurting grian, that their relationship is not safe?

that is pre-wedding. that is before scar proposes, but he already has plans to. he's always dreamed of a big, fancy wedding. it'd be picturesque and grand and wonderful! there'd be lots of flowers and music, laughter and dancing. and they'd be surrounded by friends who would be happy for them.

all of this is actively crumbling in scar's hands as hermits shy away from him as if he was dangerous and unpredictable. they're wary, unsure. they no longer see their cheerful, clumsy, harmless friend. they see an unfamilair vex.

they are not happy for them. and, right now, they do not approve of their relationship either.

scar thinks this is not how home should feel like. this is not what he wants. and he doesn't know how to convince them that he's not that scarecrow they have constructed from their lack of understanding. he doesn't know how to get through this.

but it's more than that, right? all their concerns, however well meaning, also make grian spiral. there's so much stress put on the two of them suddenly, their relationship straining.

none of this was ever meant to happen like this.

it's at a point when grian starts finding his stability, after that big breakdown, that scar decides he's done hiding and running, too. if he has to convince everyone to like him again, then he will. he'll fight for this. he'll do his best so that they can overcome this.

him and grian decide to host a little sleepover. for selected hermits! that way, they'll be opening themselves up to others. they want to try and show the others who they are now. to invite them back in. to let them get to know them all over again.

they arrange for it to happen within a week or so, as they still have to make a dedicated room for it. it's a lot of people to hang out and sleep!

they dedice to repurpose their old bunker. yes, the one they constructed shortly post-rescue. the one that was their hideout, their safe place.

it's underground, its walls drenched with anxiety and uncertainty. grian itches from it all, now used to spend time in their nest-tower, high up above the ground. underground feels stifling, all of a sudden. it feels wrong.

the first thing scar does is break the ceiling, to make a big skylight. it's left open for now, sand smelting into glass.

they struggle with the concept of hosting an event for many people. they can't seem to remember what they need. desperately, they try to figure out ways to make the place seem cozy and non-threatening, both for show and for their own sanity.

they talk about a little flower patch in the middle, right underneath the skylight. something bright and nice smelling and alive. they talk about mood lighting, about fairy lights and a fireplace. and—

they talk about sleeping arrangements.

grian says he doesn't want to make a big nest. he... doesn't want the others in their nest.

they're not flock.

they no longer feel like family.

so instead, they try to figure out how many beds they need. except, grian still wants a nest! for him and scar. and, maybe that's good! that'll be another stepping stone, showing the others the new them. who they are. what they now need. things like that!

while scar is tasked with making the small garden, grian goes off and gathers things for beds. he starts making them, quickly becomes overwhelmed, and instead starts putting together a big net that will hold their nest-bed suspended in the air.

he might be ignoring some symptoms of sickness that he simply brushes off as stress. a bit of tension. a couple of anxious, sleepless nights. it's fine.

(it isn't fine.)

it's when they take a break that grian finds himself too lightheaded and needs to lie down.

it's only about half an hour or so later, in the middle of them talking about some of scar's previous relationship experiences, that grian starts to feel really dizzy.

he has a fever.

and he succumbs to it fast after this.

scar wants to take him to the nest upstairs, but grian says he is too nauseous to be moved, so scar does the next best thing: cocoons grian's shivering, curled up form in blankets.

and he messages the hermits.

the hermits, who think he might be doing bad things to grian.

he tells them they need to postpone the sleepover.

he tells them grian is sick.

he asks for soup, but says not to come inside.

it... doesn't sound good. it rings some alarm bells in the heads of those hermits that are Very Concerned and Very Confused and maybe a notch paranoid. but scar stops replying. he's busy dealing with a sick grian.

and hoo boy.

grian's fever climbs sharply and mercilessly, making him delirious and disoriented. he can't tell where or when they are. he keeps talking about things that have already happened. he asks if the world is ending again. he thinks him and scar will be tossed to different servers this time. he asks for [REDACTED]. he asks for flock. he asks for kane and nico, where are they????

scar's heart is splintering and tearing to shreds as he tries to keep a grip, navigating heartache and mirror panic, trying to calm grian down.

it's at this time there comes a knock at their door.

scar can't deal with the others. not right now. not now, not now, not now.

they don't ask for permission to come in. they don't take silence as a no.

grian chirps in distress, from beffudled memories alone, and— they're worried. they can't leave it be.

they find the hole that was meant to, eventually, be a skylight.

they drop down.

mumbo, worried out of his mind. tango, here to help. impulse, last-minute joining them just to keep things reined in.

scar knows grian is out of it. he knows grian didn't want anyone else in their nest.

these are intruders.

and all grian registers are voices. all he thinks of are hunters. he sobs, terrified.

but to the others? scar's shifting into a vex form, flickering and dangerous, clutching grian who's making distressed noises, shielding him from sight.

they need to check up on grian, but they're not allowed any closer.

of course this escalates messily. and scar's afraid and hurting, but he needs to protect grian, and they aren't seeing him anyway. they don't see that he's scared. they don't see that he's cornered and helpless. they don't understand grian's current headspace, or his experiences that dictate his feverish panic.

and there's no space to explain.

... you know what. have the rp bits. as a treat <3 (this starts at the impromptu end of conversation about scar's past relationships, just for context.)

i decided not to redact some bits, for your enrichment. and to feed into the chaos. you're welcome :3c

------ RP STARTS HERE ------

SCAR

Scar takes another moment just to run his fingers over Grian’s forehead, then back into his hair, carefully folding his bangs back. In a lot of ways, early days with Grian were like that. Sharing their passions, enjoying each other’s company, nothing but fleeting touches between them that Scar would be left thinking about for days. 

He thinks he may have always been a hopeless romantic.

But is it really hopeless if the man of his dreams is here before him now? Curled up in his lap and cooing so soft?

Scar hums, pleased, even if he obviously wishes the sickness weren’t part of it.

“Eventually she was invited to some exclusive server, real far off. She didn’t know when she’d be able to see me next, so… we decided to go ahead and split.” Scar says it all so casually, because it truly was a mutual decision. One of the few relationships that ended with no misunderstandings or disappointments.

Well, it was still a little sad, but they knew it was for the best.

She didn’t want to leave Scar waiting, and he wanted her to feel open to exploring her relationships to the fullest with her new server mates. 

“I knew dating was always sort of secondary to her. Not as important as her art. She could do without it easily, especially if she was going somewhere with a bunch of other artists.” Scar looks down, carrying that soft smile and directing it toward Grian. “And she wanted me to be able to move on, so I could eventually meet, as she called it, the One.” He grins, remembering that being her exact phrasing. “…and that’s you.” Scar flushes a bit at his own cheesiness. “I know it.”

--

GRIAN

grian sighs softly at the touch through his hair, relaxing even through his shivers. his teeth chatter a little, a small frown forming between his eyebrows, but it softens a little as scar continues talking.

he tries to slot the information somewhere in his head. that this was an amicable breakup, brought on by insurmountable distance, diverging life paths. that this is something scar can still remember fondly. that this person had every trust that scar will find someone right for him, and that scar is convinced that someone is grian.

but somehow, his thoughts snag and loop, a faulty wire somewhere. distance and far away servers. distance and—

all of a sudden, he's thinking about the apocalypse that took everything from them. everything but each other, eventually. 

he thinks of distance, and a faraway server.

and scar not being with him in that scary place, or grian not being there with scar.

he takes a sharp breath, head shifting and eyes opening. his gaze is feverish and intense as it finds scar. "i would've look'd for you ev'rywhere," he says, hushed but urgent, completely nonsensical.

--

SCAR

Scar tilts his head, confused. He can tell what Grian is saying is drenched in adoration, but it feels misplaced, like it doesn’t belong here in this particular conversation.

Scar isn’t so sure he’s going to get an explanation with Grian in this state.

“I’m right here,” Scar decides to say instead, voice soft like flower petals placed over his skin, hoping to ease whatever tension is lingering in Grian’s thoughts.

His thumb brushes just in front of Grian’s earwing, not quite touching, but grazing over those tiny feathers that permeate his skin. 

“Right here.”

--

GRIAN

grian's gaze softens, some intensity fizzing out, even if the feverishness stays. "right here," he parrots in a weary but fond whisper, audibly relief laced. his eyes close again and he tilts his head further, chasing the touch of scar's gentle fingers.

-- 

SCAR

Scar’s glad to see Grian close his eyes, knowing he likely needs the rest. To think he was building beds and nets when he was slowly succumbing to a fever just makes Scar sad.

“For good, too,” Scar adds on, humming. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

He sees his communicator buzz— it had been a few times during his story— and wonders if that means soup is here already. With a name like soup group, maybe they had it ready-to-cook. 

Slowly, he shifts one hand over to take it, just to make sure he was clear about not entering the house. He’s careful to maintain soft patterns with his other, not wishing to disturb his mate.

--

GRIAN

for good. that sounds wonderful. it feels like a nest built around him.

grian coos, velvety and quiet, nuzzling weakly against scar. he feels him shift, but the attention to such details is slippery to grian's mind, especially as scar's touch remains on him, tracing gentle patterns.

--

SCAR

Scar stills for a second upon reading his messages, only drawn back into focus by the soft coo that escapes his mate’s lips. He’s quick to continue his soothing, setting the communicator down atop a half-squished pillow with a plop. 

<PearlescentMoon whispers to you> Soup delivery!

<GeminiTay whispers to you> Anybody home?

<Skizzleman> anybody seen G?

<impulseSV> Skizz

<impulseSV> Don’t

<Mumbo> Did something happen??

<GeminiTay> He’s just sick!

<Tango> …sick huh?

<impulseSV> Here we go again… 

--

GRIAN

with no idea about the turmoil spreading across the server-wide chat, grian stays curled up, leaning on scar. the silence stretches, making the space feel heavier somehow, time oddly slippery.

grian doesn't like it.

he lets out another coo, this one less stable. there's a questioning edge, something insecure and sorrowful and afraid.

--

SCAR

Scar blinks rapidly, eyelashes fluttering a bit as he tries to recalibrate. He can't bother with that nonsense right now, Grian needs him. That's his only priority.

"You okay, G?" Scar asks, carefully curating his voice with his practiced honeyed tones. "Soup's at the doorstep. Should be fine to leave it there, though."

--

GRIAN

soup's here?

grian forgot all about the soup. why's it at the doorstep?

he can't think.

he lets out another coo, pitched similarly to the last.

--

SCAR

"...Are you hungry?" Scar tries to guess. "I told them to leave it there for now. I'm sure it'll stay hot."

-- 

GRIAN

grian's getting increasingly more confused. who brought the soup?

they're... underground, right?

there's this horrible moment when grian can't tell where they are. or when.

"... why d'n't they c'me in?" he murmurs, thinking feverishly about flock. about nico and kane, and their worried faces.

--

SCAR

"You...you said you didn't want anyone in the nest?" Scar replies, nervous now. 

Did he misinterpret that? Did he just cause turmoil in the chat for no reason?

--

GRIAN

grian looks at scar again, his gaze unfocused even as he searches scar's expression for answers that evade him. he's so confused. flock is allowed in the nest?

he chirps, unable to put the mess of his feverish, disoriented thoughts into words.

--

SCAR

"Shoot," Scar says, doubting his actions now. "I—I can message them again? I think the messages from Pearl and Gem were only a few minutes ago—"

--

GRIAN

grian stiffens, his eyes widening with more confusion.

peal and gem?

it takes him an odd, hollow moment to place those names, and then he's unthinkingly moving, rolling over, chirping in a higher pitch. the cocoon of blankets tangles around him, keeping him right where he is, unable to flare out and flap his wings.

--

SCAR

Scar is about a moment away from grabbing the communicator when Grian begins thrashing, and he quickly shifts to cradling him with his arms, trying to keep him in place. "Hey, heyyy, whoa... easy there, birdie, what's wrong?" Scar tries to imitate a small chirp, trying to say that it's okay if Grian can only make noises. He'll try to interpret to his best ability.

--

ANGE ( :D )

--

GRIAN

grian breathes heavily from that small amount of exertion, completely placated by scar's tight hold and the familiar rumble of his voice. dark spots blotch out his vision, and he lets himself go limp, cradled by scar's arms. safe. safe, safe, safe.

his head is so jumbled, and everything feels like a horrible dream. they're underground. there's meant to be flock here. there's meant to be—

with eyes flooding with confused tears, he whimpers. "scar?" his voice is hoarse, breaking midway through. "where's avi?"

--

LINK

--

SCAR

Scar's huddled over Grian, as if he wanted to shield him from the world. (He does.) He keeps his grip firm and shushes him softly, trying to reign him in as much as he can so he can get some sort of coherent answer, when—

Oh.

Oh no.

"Where's—" Scar chokes out, completely caught off guard by the question. He pulls away, catching sight of those tears, and suddenly his eyes are stinging as well. "I—Grian, we're..." He can't answer that. He can't, he can't. "Grian we're home."

--

GRIAN 

grian's gaze jumps between scar's eyes. incoherency threads through his veins, spilling across his nervous system. the word home makes no sense to him.

he chirps, a quiet, mournful, quivery sound. confused and afraid.

--

LINK

--

SCAR

Scar chews at his lip, trying very hard not to lose himself to the sudden flood of panic that surged through him at those words, not to mention the sheer misery of it all as well.

"We're not there, Grian," he continues to try. "We're home. We're—"

He hears knocking at their door upstairs. 

Scar's ears twitch, honestly unsure if Grian will hear it as well with how Scar is huddled over him and with the less acute hearing. 

Muffled voices pool in from beyond the stairs.

...not gonna answer. ... just wants to be sure ... if it makes him feel better...

"...on Hermitcraft," Scar finishes, the word almost bitter on his tongue. 

--

GRIAN

"i— but—" grian's oblivious to knocking or potential intruders. he sniffles, a tear falling free. he's shaking, the fever ravaging, the world gently spinning off axis around him. 

he thinks scar looks a bit panicked, and it just pushes him deeper into his disoriented confusion. because— aren't they hiding? from danger? aren't they in a hideout? in a bunker, or a cave? aren't they in a nest that's incredibly makeshift, put together in a rush?

... isn't there meant to be flock here?

he chirps again, louder, still that higher pitch. fear sears through the sound, his breath turning rapid as his heart beats wildly against his ribs, even as fever presses the heavy weight of exhaustion right over his chest. 

he's scared, because he can't remember. he can't remember what happened—

"where are they?" he insists, his voice verging a sob. "where is flock?"

--

SCAR

Scar thinks the voices stopped for a second after Grian chirps, and the reality of the giant hole in the ceiling sets in on Scar all at once. All they’d have to do is walk about the back and there’d be nothing keeping anyone from seeing the two of them. 

Scar’s wings flare out around Grian as an instinctive shield. 

Grian is asking about flock, and…

Well, the reality of that is that there is none here, Scar concludes dismally. 

Grian didn’t want the hermits in their nest when they were constructing the party room. Grian asked for Avi. Grian’s probably thinking about Kane and Nico, too.

The hermits haven’t gotten there. They don’t know avian-brained Grian.

“[REDACTED],” Scar answers, trying to give Grian a shred of reality to grasp onto. [REDACTED]

--

GRIAN

[REDACTED]? 

grian's mind spins, the same way the room spins around him. he feels as if the whole ground tilted with them on it. there's sea underneath the raft of the floor. 

he feels sick.

he wants to close his eyes, but he finds himself staring at scar, helpless. floatingly, he remembers words about distance and faraway servers, and he thinks of hermitcraft imploding, whole chunks being lifted up into the air.

his stomach twists and lurches. the spinny feeling makes him think even more vividly of those floating chunks. maybe they're on one now?

he ducks, as if the ground really moved from underneath them. he tries to paw at scar, but his hands are still trapped, and it just makes him thrash again against the blankets, whimpering.

he wants his flock. he doesn't understand where they are.

"call them back," he whimpers. "call— avi. can— avi can come too?" he pauses, his breath stuttering as he looks up at scar with so much pleading. 

he wants a bird flock. he wants to tuck him in the middle of the makeshift nest and make sure he's safe.

--

SCAR

Scar stares at Grian, heart actively tearing itself apart at his words and tears threatening to fall. 

He hears footsteps.

He can’t do this. If they find them he’s not going to be able to untangle all of this in time, he—

“They’ll be back,” he lies, chest aching. “Shhh, shhh, listen, they’ll be back, okay?”

The words taste like acid on his tongue, burning his throat like rotten bile. 

“You’re sick, Gri, let me take care of you,” Scar pleas, shutting out his surroundings so he can focus. Focus. Grian’s the only thing that matters. “Why don’t we go upstairs? If— if you puke on me, fine, I just— you should have a bath. And more blankets. And Mr. Beak.”

And medicine on his way up. And soup. 

And away from the approaching hermits. Away from danger.

--

GRIAN

"they'll... be back?" grian repeats, in the smallest voice, each syllable threatening to snap and let it all crumble. he sniffles, another tear tumbling down his cheek as the confusion continues to tear a path through him like wildfire.

scar says their flock will be back. 

he says grian is sick, and oh, maybe the world isn't ending, then? 

grian feels weird. everything's fuzzy and nonsensical, memories fading and time slipping and everything melting together.

there's a sob, and it takes grian a moment to realise it came from it. "it— it feels like—" his body shakes and trembles, barely a separate thing from the shivers. he's curling up again, making himself small. with a ragged breath and tears glistening in his eyes, he looks at scar, completely missing his point about upstairs and a bath and mr beak. what leaves his lips instead is a question that's white-hot, shaking him to his core. "scar...? is the world ending again?"

--

SCAR / MUMBO

“What—“ Scar is reeling from all of this. It doesn’t feel unlike being trapped in a cramped terracotta bunker listening to Grian murmur thoughts of death and despair. “No, Grian, the world isn’t ending.”

Scar thinks he knew how to handle this better once upon a time.

This world has ironically shaken his confidence. 

“We’re perfectly safe.” Scar continues. “We’re in our home— our house that we built.”

“Grian?” comes a voice from above, causing Scar to bristle.

His eyes flick upward and catch sight of a nervous pair of eyes peeking over the dirt hole.

Scar does not want to talk to Mumbo right now.

--

GRIAN

grian's eyes close and he blindly curls towards scar, deeper into his hold, lost and despondent. nothing makes sense, not even scar's reassurances. 

out of all the words scar says, grian wants to hold onto one the most: safe.

and yet incoherent threats continue sinking teeth into grian's flesh. sending panic signals about how he's weak if he's sick, and they're a target, and they can't run from danger. about how their flock is missing. about how they might be hurtled into different, faraway servers this time, and— and grian doesn't know how to survive without scar, and—

he sobs loudly, his breaths becoming erratic. he hears his name, but it's not scar's voice, and he flinches hard, whimpering, until some instinct catches up and tells him to run. to grab scar and abandon the nest.

he tries to flap his wings, but finds them bound.

he doesn't process that sensation right, pitching straight into memories of traps and nets, chirping high pitched and distressed. the blankets don't hold too hard, but he just can't figure them out, unaware of what they even are.

--

SCAR / OTHERS

“Grian!” Mumbo exclaims, calling the attention of his other unwelcome companions. 

Scar snarls, luckily muted and hidden from view by his bright wings. This is not what he needs right now. This is not what Grian needs. He needs peace and quiet and warmth and soft things—

Scar hurries to try to still Grian, shushing him as calmly as he can manage. “Hey, hey, Grian, it’s me, it’s okay, shhhh, please calm down.”

Grian said he felt nauseous. This has to be about the worst thing possible for him.

“Scar, what’s—“ Mumbo is babbling, sounding nearly as panicked as Grian. Scar doesn’t care about that though. 

He thinks maybe Mumbo has fallen onto his knees up there. He thinks he might be considering popping down into their space.

Scar is not having that.

Strangers are not allowed in the nest, get out, get out.

“Grian, look at me,” Scar tries, urgent and insistent. “We’re safe, we’re okay, I— I’m gonna take you upstairs.”

“Whoa there, skippy, I don’t think you should be taking him anywhere!” comes Tango of all people.

Scar eyes glow a faint blue, feeling cornered, while all of his body language shifts into that of defensive and protective, wrapped around Grian fully with his wings blocking the intruders from view. 

He desperately attempts to lift.

--

GRIAN

grian sobs, quieter, against scar's soft, frantic shushes. he wants to believe that everything's okay, but scar doesn't sound okay, and there are all these other voices, rising up and loud, coming closer.

scar pleads for grian to look at him, and dizzily, he does, his eyesight blurred by hot tears. he's breathing too fast, which is just inviting more lightheadedness; he shakes in scar's grip, whimpering as scar repeats the promises that they're okay.

desperately, grian tries to hold onto that.

he chirps, still distressed but now also pleading, a sound meant only for scar's ears but all too loud and grating to not be heard by anyone else in the vicinity. 

his wings still feel so horribly bound. 

he chokes on a sob. "scar, help." 

he needs to be freed and— and they need to run, right? they need to go? scar says they'll go upstairs. grian tries to get his hands free, wanting to hold onto him, but he's bundled up too tight in scar's arms to really manage with his feeble strength.

his stomach churns, acidic, turning and twisting with the uptick of stress and panic. he sobs again, terrified that they're about to be caught.

--

SCAR / OTHERS

Focus, Scar thinks frantically. Focus, focus. 

He can’t let the anger from the intrusion overcome him. He can’t get defensive here, even if he’s certain one unwelcome step into their makeshift nest will set him off. 

Grian is squirming in his arms, chirping as he relives some phantom experience, and Scar knows this can’t look good. He has to stay calm, he has to keep him under control.

But then Grian begs for his help and it’s like the mirage shatters around him, except this time it’s reality fragmenting before his very eyes, twisting and mutating into something horrible and so much more dire. 

Grian’s sobbing, but for a second Scar sees him despondent, face torn open and wings drenched in blood. He hears voices and it’s like white noise, a vague threat, unwelcome. 

Scar looks around frantically.

He doesn’t know which way Nadia is—

“Scar, buddy, hey, why dontcha just put Grian down and we can aaaaaall relax—“

Scar’s wings flare out to their full span, one dipping over Grian as a shield. No one can see him. No one can ogle those feathers. No one, no one.

“Sc–Scar, what’s going on?”

Scar sees movement. Someone jumps down and instantly he’s crouched low, holding Grian tighter as his eyes glow blue.

“Scar…”

He’s supposed to be calm, he’s supposed to be gentle, he’s failing, he’s failing, but he can’t let them near—

Scar’s entire body flickers blue and he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“Stay back,” he strains through sharpened teeth, voice low like a snarl. “You—“ 

(You aren’t welcome here.)

(You’re making things worse.)

(You’re lucky I don’t slay you right here and now.)

Scar’s voice breaks, desperate and frightened by his own shattering psyche. “You’re scaring him.” 

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

the sense of danger continues building up around grian, fueling his fear, overexerting his already sickness-weakened body. his heart continues ramming a fast, painful rhythm, and the ache across his chest just serves to make grian more scared.

scar's hold on him is firm, and grian doesn't know whether to feel comfort (he's protected, it's okay, scar's got him), or more panic (there's a threat, scar can't fight if he's gripping grian, why aren't they running?) choking on sobs that he's unable to stop, grian presses his forehead into scar's shoulder; the heat of his fever can surely be felt through scar's shirt, scalding hot. there's a familiar, faint tingling, something grian's learned to attune himself to and recognise—the electrifying current of scar's magic, a warning, a preparation. a wing slings in front of grian like a glowing shield.

mumbo's standing in the bunker, jolting still at scar's accusation and the display of his vex magic. "i'm scaring him?" he stammers, incredulous and not understanding. "mate, i think he's asking to be let go," he hazards, navigating the distressing pitch of chirps and sobs with anxious misguidedness. 

tango's now crouching at the edge of the hole, also intending to descend. "yeah, just let us see him. you've got nothing to hide, right? why make this worse?"

a third pair of footsteps makes it to the unfinished skylight, peering down at the situation with a tense "uhoh," trying to read what exactly is happening here. he isn't sure yet, but some alarm in his head goes off.

with straining breaths through his sobs, grian's dizziness only gets worse. even as he's securely held, he can't escape the violent sensation of the world spinning fast. his stomach tightens, burning with acid, stress overloading all of grian's already muddied senses. there are voices around him, louder, closer, but they don't process right; they're just an incoherent noise, a call of hunters saying we found them, making everything collapse in on him and scar. it feels like they're surrounded and, fearfully, grian presses himself further against scar, burrowing in as much as he can with all his limbs still tangled into the blanket net. 

he should've been more careful.

he shouldn't have triggered the trap.

his eyes are tightly shut, overflowing with tears. behind his closed eyelids, he can see, vividly, avi's terrified look as he's caught in another trap.

a vile kind of panic spreads through him, sharper and more damaging than the previous one, drawing a terrified chirp out of him. the sound breaks on a sob like waves violently crashing into a jagged cliffside, and he desperately tries to take a breath through it all. to speak. 

it's awful; he's so horribly lightheaded and nothing makes sense. but he has to— he has to say this, has to make sure scar hears, has to beg for this one thing above all else. he chokes out, wobbly and halting and small enough to be coherent only for scar, and only if he can spare enough attention to listen. "ple— please don't— don't le— leave him behind—" 

--

SCAR / OTHERS

Scar tenses, briefly glancing down at Grian as he wonders whether or not he truly has been misinterpreting it all, if Grian wants to be let go like Mumbo claims. But no, Scar can feel that feverish haze pressed into his shoulder, desperate and clingy, and his expression sharpens, eyes narrowing in Mumbo’s direction. 

No, Mumbo knows nothing. 

Still, Scar shrinks under Tango’s accusations, reminding him that he ought to have nothing to hide. He doesn’t, just— he can’t let them see. He can’t let anyone see the tears and the panic and the bright violet hues. 

Scar knows he’s being irrational but his wings simply won’t budge, one flung out in some innate danger response and the other curled around like a very necessary shield. They twitch but don’t move.

All Scar can manage is to turn them slightly transparent. A barely willing compromise.

Even his vision is flickering blue.

…Grian’s words make him see white.

He’s vividly tossed back in time, hobbled over and bloodied, barely hanging on, watching as [REDACTED]

Grian’s begging him not to let history repeat itself, he knows, he—

Scar takes a stumbling step backward, blankets curling around his feet and threatening to drag him down. 

“Hey, hey, hey, let’s not go going anywhere, pal,” Tango insists as he leaps down to join Mumbo, carefully touching his shoulder in solidarity. He’s jittery here, not liking he prospect of staring down an angry vex in the slightest, a totem gripped in his other hand. “We’re just here to help.”

Tears break past Scar’s eyes and he hiccups, struggling to stay above water, barely grappling with reality as it continues to shatter before him. 

He can’t do this alone. He’s scared, he’s slipping, he’s making it all worse. 

He�� he should have nothing to hide.

“He’s sick,” Scar pleads again, voice hoarse and not at all his own. Blue wisps escape with every word. “He–e has a fever, he’s not— he’s not thinking straight.”

God, are they going to believe that?

Do they believe anything he says? That a crazed vex says?

Scar looks at Grian again, desperation hanging off his tongue. “Grian, you— I—“ He doesn’t even want to suggest it, but they probably need to hear from him. “We…we’re safe, okay? I promise, I… d-do you want me to put you down?”

--

US

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

scar's suggestion is the only thing grian hears with any semblance of coherency, and it makes his lungs spasm and his heart ache. he shakes his head in panic, forehead still pressed against scar, the sharp motion rapidly destabilising the world around him until it spins in a nauseating blur. "no no no don't leave, please, don't don't don't," he chokes out, crying.

the sharpness of that reaction freezes mumbo, sends everything in him careening into doubt.

it's this moment impulse takes his cue to join in. he jumps down, touching tango's arm just as tango is taking a breath to speak, feet moving to step forwards. impulse stops him, gently, even as tension drips from his voice. "tango, wait."

grian's sobs fill the air; the transparency of scar's wings doesn't offer much more clarity. all impulse can tell is that the avian is shaking.

but his eyes draw higher, meeting scar's. his gaze softens at the sight of tears, and he lifts his hands up placatingly, the gesture feeling like lowering of a weapon. "scar." his voice is quiet, just loud enough to be heard. he tries to keep it calm, even as his nerves are fraying with the situation. "you aren't going to run off with him anywhere, right? it's okay. we won't hurt you guys."

mumbo's eyes widen at that, gaze whipping from impulse to scar—for the first time noting the tears in the vex's eyes. "oh, gosh, no, we aren't here to hurt anyone!" he echoes, distraught. 

--

SCAR / OTHERS

Scar tightens his grip, pulling Grian up higher and whispering soft nothings, assuring him that he’ll stay, that he hears him, he wouldn’t leave him, not ever. 

Scar tenses up when yet another person enters their space, but visibly relaxes when he recognizes Impulse’s voice, something steady and yielding to the way that he speaks. It’s the only voice that doesn’t distort into that of a hunter’s call in Scar’s rattled mind.

Slowly, Scar pulls his leg back in, shaking as he gives up on the half-step he was taking away. “I… I know that,” he fibs, because part of him doesn’t believe them. “But Grian doesn’t. N–not right now.”

Tango appears unconvinced, making a short grumbling sound that Impulse cuts off with a light shove. 

Impulse recognizes this scene. Maybe it’s just the flicker of Scar’s wings, but Grian appears to have that same glossed over look in his eye that he had the day they found them— unrecognizing, inconsolable. 

It isn’t good.

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian's sobs quiet down a little at the soft assurances, but the world keeps swirling and swimming. 

mumbo lets out a choked noise, not willing to reconcile with the idea that grian might not recognise them as safe—despite all the hints of their early days on the server post-rescue. he thinks of grian, bruised and bitten and flinching, and he can't let this go. he can't. "please," he begs. "i just want to see him."

impulse looks at mumbo, then back at scar. he's holding out his arm, in case the others would have the stupid thought of moving forwards.

he needs to bargain here, and it's hard.

he tries to hold onto the way scar let pearl at least somewhat close, that day when they pulled scar and grian from that awful world, grian's wing tangled in a horrible trap that tore at it. pearl wasn't allowed to touch, but she was allowed to help, and maybe they could arrive at something similar here, too.

"scar...?" impulse says, gentle and calm again. (it's only the smallest of wobbles that betrays him.) "do you think you could sit down? you don't have to let go of him, just, let us see? we don't have to come close." and then, after a breath, he tentatively pushes with another suggestion: "i think if you're calm about it, it might help him calm down too. you don't have to get away from him."

"yes he does!" tango protests.

impulse whips to face him. "tango!" he snaps back. 

grian flinches in scar's arms at the raised tones, letting out another loud, terrified chirp, curling into scar for protection. he's back to sobbing louder, all of scar's comfort undone in one swift go.

--

SCAR

Scar’s wings sag the slightest bit, drawn in by the soft promises Impulse is laying out, but still hesitant to follow. 

Sitting down would mean giving up an easy escape route. They could be lying. He could be cornered. This could all be a ploy to get him to lower his guard.

Tango’s outburst does not help settle that fear.

Scar grits his teeth together, a few stray tears falling as he struggles to form words. “Stop yelling,” he demands, light blue magic slipping past sharpened teeth. 

He’s back to soothing Grian, not yet yielding and not at all regarding Mumbo’s request. 

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, okay? I’m—“ He looks over the three pairs of eyes— fearful, disdainful, concerned— and focuses in on Impulse. “They’re… friends.” (Not flock.) “I��m just gonna… kneel down here, okay?” (A small compromise.)

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian continues crying, albeit a little bit quieter again. just a notch. it's hard to tell if scar's soothing is working, or if he's just tiring himself out.

tango, to his credit, seems a bit alarmed by the reaction he's gotten. but he is still relentlessly wary, suspicious of this whole situation.

impulse can tell, and it keeps him tense. he wishes he could just tell tango and mumbo to leave, but he knows they wouldn't budge. not now. not when things are like this.

he holds back a sigh, looking grian's way. "yeah, we're friends," he echoes, soft, trying to sound harmless and encouraging.

he isn't even sure grian's listening to him. he isn't sure he can recognise his voice. it feels awful.

he doesn't think tango and mumbo realise the extent of what's happening. that if grian's mind is scrambled with the sickness, he might not be mentally present here. on hermitcraft. he might be stuck somewhere else entirely, and the thought of it pains impulse. 

the least they can do is play along.

the least he can do is try to deescalate this whole thing.

"c'mon," he tugs at tango and mumbo, voice low. "let's sit down."

"wh— i don't want—" tango starts in protest, but impulse holds his gaze, steady. 

"shh," he reminds him, shutting tango up.

"oh gosh," mumbo lets out, wobbly, and slowly lowers himself down to the floor.

impulse does the same, dragging tango down with him.

"see?" impulse looks back at scar, trying to offer a small smile. "we're not gonna go closer if you guys aren't ready. we're at the same level here. it's okay." he's willing to be patient here, but he worries that tango and mumbo might not be. 

--

SCAR

Scar stares for a long moment, fidgeting between trust and opportunity, wondering if he could run. If he could take them down if they’re going to make themselves vulnerable like this.

His ears twitch with alarm at the mere thought, catching himself before he can spiral further into delusion.

Carefully, he lowers himself to the ground, knelt down on both knees so he could easily spring back into action. 

“We aren’t ready,” Scar confirms, warily eyeing the lot of them. 

His eyes are still bright blue, though slightly less fiery. His chest flickers occasionally, a warm white light. His wing lowers by only an inch. 

He allows himself one moment of weakness, eyes flicking back down toward the shivering avian in his arms. “… I promise a warm bath after this, okay?” he whispers, though his voice carries, still too ragged from pressed together fangs. “W–we’re gonna be fine.”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

impulse nods. he knows they aren't ready, but he hopes hearing that helps the others settle too. "we'll wait. take it slow. make sure he's okay," he coaxes, tone soft. hoping, desperately, that tango and mumbo won't mess this up. that they understand and will follow his lead. "we're not getting any closer. you have space." he pauses, and then he adds, a bit of heartache slipping into his voice: "you're safe, i promise."

grian recognises that they went down, slow and controlled. scar's hold is still tight and secure, and he's talking to him softly, and grian scrambles to understand what's happening. they're... not in danger anymore? scar says they're going to be fine. 

with a tired coo, grian nuzzles into his shoulder. he trusts him, even as he still sniffles, tears dripping down. 

his body feels awful, and his wings twitch, only to find themselves still tangled. it's that sensation that prompts another miserable sob from him, albeit less panic-driven. "take it off," he pleads, begging scar to untangle the trap that restricts him. "take it— scar, hurts," he whines.

the blanket doesn't actually hurt. his body aches from the fever and extertion, but his head tells him that pressure against his wings ought to be painful, and so that's what it is. the fear mistranslates into pain—or maybe just inevitability of the pain if this goes on, he isn't actually sure—the memories more vivid than reality itself.

--

SCAR

Scar nods slowly, wings lowering just a little bit more. He can see the tension actively begin to roll off of Mumbo, but for some reason that doesn’t comfort Scar in the slightest. 

He tries to offer gratitude toward Impulse in some way, but then his attention is dragged back to Grian, ears flicking as he grows rigid and attentive once more.

“Take…?” Scar questions, looking Grian over in confusion before it finally clicks. “The— oh.”

He shifts a little, resting Grian’s weight firmly on his legs, and slowly peels away a few layers of blankets, trying to simply loosen them up and allow for his wings to slip free. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Scar assures him, voice already growing much softer, no more wisps escaping when he speaks. “There you go… ‘m sorry.”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

it's the word hurts on grian's tongue that has mumbo jolting, and impulse has to react fast, grabbing him and keeping him still. "stay calm," he hisses under his breath, quiet enough to be intended only for their trio.

"do you really expect us just to sit here," tango hisses back, "when grian just said he's being hurt?"

impulse exhales, long and tense. "that's not what he said. and he asked scar to fix it. he said," he stresses, somehow still managing to keep his voice hushed and low, "he wants scar to stay near him. so sit. still. and wait."

grian, in the meanwhile, squirms as the blanket layers gets peeled off, feeling the pressure relent. he breathes out, a bit more steadily, forehead still firmly against scar. some of his crying tapers off once he can twitch his wings and feel no resistance—and the loosened blankets let his hands free, too. he uses this immediately to grab onto scar's shirt, depletedly holding on. 

"thanks." he sniffles. and then he asks, feeling small and vulnerable, his heart still frightened: "are we safe...?"

--

SCAR

“Yes,” Scar replies, even if he doesn’t feel safe in the slightest. He feels under attack, though perhaps at least not physically. “…we’re having a sitting party.”

It’s a bit of a nonsensical thing to say, but Scar is trying desperately to reel himself in here. His eyes are only barely green, a blue sheen still hiding them away. He feels tense and uneasy, watching Tango in particular now with narrowed vision.

It flicks to Mumbo, accusatory in his stare. “I said we didn’t want visitors,” Scar states, guarded. “So why are you here?”

--

GRIAN

it is a bit nonsensical, the words sitting party taking a while to slot in grian's mind. but if they're having a party, that means there is someone else, right? the memories of the confusing, threatening voices feels fuzzy to grian. the danger has passed, the hunters are gone. they wouldn't be sitting down, wings released, having a party of all things otherwise—and scar confirmed they're safe.

which means...

maybe scar called them over, like grian asked?

he relaxes a little bit more, even as he still continues to wade his confusion. "flock...?" he asks in a tiny coo. 

he's leaning his head on scar's shoulder, staring blankly off in the direction of scar's other shoulder, not focused on anything in particular. his vision still swims. 

--

SCAR

“… Friends,” Scar corrects, because they’re not. “… They’re just—“ Scar swallows down some bitterness, trying to stay calm. “—worried about you.”

And then he looks back to Mumbo, eyes glowing a bit brighter again as he waits for his answer.

(They’re worried about Grian. Not him. Unless being worried of him counts.)

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

"mhn?" grian makes a confused sound at the word friends. it doesn't want to slot anywhere in his head. who?

mumbo, in the meanwhile, shrinks under scar's sharp attention. "we were worried," he offers, nothing more than a repeat of what scar's just said himself. 

tango steps in, pointing out: "you said he was sick. we wanted to check in on him."

--

SCAR

Scar’s ears droop at Grian’s clear inability to recognize the concept. But frankly, he doesn’t blame him.

With a sigh, Scar scans the three of them again, looking them over for any sign of trouble, but he notes a distinct lack of anything, which makes him frown.

“So, what? Did you bring medicine?” he asks rhetorically, because he knows the answer. “Soup? Blankets? Bath salts?”

His eyes narrow with each question.

--

OTHERS

there's a very clear faltering across the whole group. they exchange glances, slightly nervous. 

"i— we—" mumbo stammers, face flushing. he's suddenly feeling very uneasy. chastised. he stares at the bundle scar's holding, what he at first was so sure was a distressed avian probably really just a feverish one, and it makes him deflate. he didn't think past the anxiety enough to consider that scar might be telling the truth. (he's still not sure. he still needs to see grian, properly. he still wants to check.) (but the scales of probability are tipping in a way that makes him feel off balance and out of place.)

impulse sighs. he didn't have time to stop them long enough to ask them to be sensible and bring something for grian if he truly is sick. he is here as a chaperone and—oh boy is he glad he came. he can't imagine how this would've panned out otherwise.

"you weren't replying on the comms," tango soldiers through, still frowning, still a touch confrontational. he doesn't like the way scar's looking at him. doesn't like all his sharp edges. doesn't like the feeling that scar's still hiding something. "we didn't know what you need." he pulls slightly back, straightening up. "do you need anything?" he challenges. there already was a soup delivery by the front door, and it certainly doesn't seem like they're low on blankets.

--

SCAR

“I was a little preoccupied,” Scar replies dryly, frustrated that he’s still being questioned. “I’d think it’s customary to bring at least some sort of gift,” Scar continues to pry, not letting it go. Not letting it slide that they clearly came here out of fear instead of assistance. “But sure, sure, we certainly wouldn’t say no to some minty bath salts or some tea leaves.”

Scar briefly wonders if that’s all it would take to make this unwelcome trio leave. He doubts it.

“Or, you know, some peace and quiet so he can get some rest,” Scar concludes, tight jawed and eyebrows furrowed. At least his eyes are back to green.

--

OTHERS

mumbo recognises that they're being thrown out, but it just makes him dig his heels in. "we can bring some tea, but— but scar—"

it's tango who breaks this line drawn in the sand again, encroaching on a minefield territory. "we still haven't seen grian." because this sliver they can see right now doesn't count. it doesn't say anything about whether or not grian's hurt, underneath it all. even if grian begs for scar to be close. honestly, tango doesn't consider grian the best judge of that right now. unhealthy attachments exist!

--

SCAR

Scar exhales through his nose, slow and barely steady. 

Reluctantly, he lowers his wing, allowing an unobstructed gaze, though he makes no effort to close the distance between them. He doesn’t want that line broken.

“…happy?”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian registers scar's wing falling away, and it makes him feel oddly exposed. grian isn't sure to whom; scar said their flock isn't here, but that they're safe. still, he ducks, hiding his face in scar's chest. that way, he can pretend he's still shielded. that way, he can pretend the world can't hurt him. (the way he can feel scar's breaths is just a nice, soothing bonus. scar's right here, alive, right next to him. perfectly in reach, as grian's fingers tug at him.) (he closes his eyes, willing the surroundings to stop tipping around them. his feathers fluff up lightly.) 

mumbo makes another strangled noise, and he moves as if to stand up, compelled to go closer. to check. to— 

to be there. 

grian's his friend, and there wasn't a time when mumbo wasn't allowed to be near. to take care of him when he feels unwell.

with blankets and grian's wings still firmly in the way, and grian's whole body turned away from them, mumbo still can't see anything. so no, he isn't happy.

"... grian?" he tries, calling out to him, coaxing him to look his way as he gets up to his wobbly feet.

--

SCAR

Scar bristles again, wings twitching as he instinctively growls, low and mercifully non-threatening, but it certainly doesn’t sound that way to an untrained ear. 

These are untrained ears. 

Scar registers the flinch in varying degrees from all three of them, and his ears twitch, then droop again in shame.

He can’t do this. He can’t let someone else close. It doesn’t matter how fidgety and awkward Mumbo is, Scar doesn’t trust him to come close.

Mumbo who says foolish things; Mumbo who looks at him like a stranger; Mumbo who cares so much that Scar can’t help but feel strangled by it as it weaves around him, passing him by and threatening to smother Grian in his disturbed state. 

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

grian makes an inquisitive mewl, a soft and small sound, unworried at scar's growl. he knows it's not threatening, so he just gently prods, inquiring as to what's wrong. what's bothering scar?

pointedly, he doesn't react to mumbo's call at all. as if he didn't even register it.

tango's rising to his feet now, too, but impulse puts a hand on his shoulder.

it doesn't deter tango, and they both stand up. still far away, but in a way the three of them are now towering over kneeling scar, looking down with varying emotions. 

"we'll get you some tea," impulse says, quiet, measured. he's looking directly at scar. he's trying to tell him that he sees him. that he doesn't blame him, no matter how stifling and explosive this situation is turning out to be.

"impulse!" tango squeaks, indignant, protesting. "he's hiding something!"

impulse's gaze cuts sharply to tango. "keep your voice down!" he hisses, frowning, then sighs. he understands they're anxious, but lines do need to be drawn.

for grian's sake as well as for scar's. 

impulse looks back at scar, tries to soften all the jaggedness from his pooling tension. "do you think you can get him to sleep? rest a little?" he suggests. "we will come back with the tea. if grian's asleep— we can look at him then? so he won't be scared of us?" he bites at his lip, and then adds: "just look. and we can help if you'll need anything else from us, yeah?" it's a gentle proposal, an attempt to find a tightrope that won't send them all careening towards some awful abyss.

--

SCAR

Scar feels so horribly small knelt down like this in front of people that are seemingly hellbent on misinterpreting his every move. His wings fall to the ground at the insinuation of him hiding something once again.

He’s not. He’s hiding Grian maybe, but he was scared— he asked for help and this is how Scar would help…

Scar trembles under the spotlight of their gazes, even if Impulse’s is softer. He feels like he can’t move— like he isn’t allowed.

“I… I want him to rest,” Scar agrees weakly, nodding once in exhausted misery. “You… yeah. You can check on him then.”

He still hates it. Hates the idea of someone in their nest. Hates that he’s still being more or less monitored, hates that he can’t be trusted with what he knows best.

Scar looks down to Grian, eyes big, barely holding back the fear that seeps into that forest green. “Can I take you upstairs? …nest?”

--

GRIAN / OTHERS

impulse softens further at scar's agreement, hearing the fatigue and defeat in his voice. it makes his heart ache, even more when he thinks about everyone else overlooking that. "alright... thank you, scar," he says gently.

then his eyes flick to find the exit, realising they're going to have to walk past. 

"can we... leave? or do you want us to wait until you go first?" impulse checks nervously, gaze jumping between scar and the avian he's cradling. he has a feeling scar doesn't want them here any longer than necessary, but impulse isn't sure if getting closer only for the sake of walking out is what he needs.

"or we can dirt pillar up," mumbo suggests with a nervous little laugh, attempting nonchalance and jokes, even as everything in him still rails against this. he's drawn forward, towards grian, like a moth to a flame. he wants to check him over, touch his skin, care for him. he doesn't realise he's completely disregarding scar in this scenario. doesn't realise he sees him as nothing but a mad guard dog, standing in his way for no reason. 

"you're giving up?" tango huffs, tail swishing. 

"i— what?" mumbo laughs again, more nervously this time. "we'll be back."

"what, so he can cover up his tracks?" tango pushes, frowning. all too aware that a potion or two are enough to hide most injuries. and an asleep grian can't answer any check-up questions.

it's impulse who growls now. "tango. scar isn't our enemy. he's our friend. maybe you should start treating him as such."

"i— wh— but—" tango stammers, completely taken off guard, ears pulling low.

grian, in the meanwhile, reacts to scar's careful, gentle question. his unfocused gaze lifts up, seeking to anchor in familiar green, feeling fragmented and vulnerable and still sick. "nest," he echoes, impossibly sad and hopeful, yearning. he sniffles, not paying their surroundings any attention; the memories still swirl through him, and nothing quite feels real.

nothing but scar.

he tips forward, wraps his arms around scar's shoulders in a weak hug, clinging to him in a position that makes it easy to carry him. 

"... can the bucket come with us?" he half-jokes hoarsely.

--

SCAR

Turns out it doesn’t feel good being spoken about like he isn’t right there, and Scar finds himself slumping forward in defeat, misery seeping deep into his bones.

His chest flickers once more, eyes clouded with a blue fog that only fades when Grian wraps his arms around. Grian, who does trust him and is deserving of his love and attention.

Wretchedly, Scar swallows down his anxieties, does his best to ignore the unwelcome surroundings. He doesn’t even provide them an answer, instead leaning down to kiss Grian’s (still dreadfully warm) forehead.

“Anything you need, G,” he croaks, rising on incredibly wobbly feet and hooking the handle of the bucket with his pinky. 

Wordlessly, he turns his back to his intruders and begins walking upstairs, unable to bear their presence any longer. His wings flick and tremble, uncomfortable being exposed to what he still inevitably seems as enemies. 

(It’s only fair considering how he’s actively antagonized.)

“So sorry about all this moving around…” Scar continues murmuring, feeling entirely off balance, but managing to stay steady only because Grian is in his arms. “We’ll get nice and comfy, alright? And our guests can bring the soup in.”

That’s the only acknowledgment they get.

--

GRIAN

grian lets out a soft noise at the kiss, a mix of comforted and still absolutely miserable. he isn't sure if he feels hot or cold, and his body aches. the nausea is ever-present, making any move a wretched matter, especially when coupled with his still spinning head.

he tries to hold onto scar a bit firmer, but his strength isn't there. he groans, whimpering. "slow," he pleads, not knowing how else to mitigate this.

he really doesn't want to puke if he can help it. although maybe having it over would feel better than this.

--

SCAR

“Slow,” Scar parrots, purposely stilling himself for a moment before continuing at a steadier pace. He didn’t realize he was rushing, honestly, but it makes sense.

He wants those eyes off of his back.

He thinks he hears the sound of pillaring blocks, and that’s likely for the best. 

“Nice and slow,” he confirms again, trying to keep Grian level once they’re past the steps. 

--

aaaand i’ll wrap it up with that. :3

[turtletaubwrites]

Sweet Abduction ~ Part 2

I loved the request for Part 1, and thank you to everyone who voted on fluff or smut for the honeymoon. Smut won out, but oops! I fully intended on this being all smut, but I went too hard on the fluff. So we'll be getting a very smutty final part 3, I promise!

Pairings: Katakuri x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2175

Ao3 Link

Summary: Your new husband takes you to his private home after the wedding, and lets you choose if you'd like to have a real relationship with him or not. But there's another promise you need to make first.

Rating/Warnings: SFW, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Light Angst, Grief, (reader's dad has passed and she thinks about him a lot), Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Eventual Smut, Mildly Suggestive, Human/Monster Romance, He's freaking 16 ft tall, Reader is too sweet for this world

A/N: I swear the smut is on the way! I just love these two cuties so much, and had to give them some more fluffy buildup 😭🍩💜

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

“Where are we going?”

You hardly felt the ocean breeze from the crook of your new husband’s arm. You stretched your legs out over his forearm, fluffing the fabric of your wedding dress. Then you snuggled in against his chest, that giant fur scarf like the softest pillow you’d ever felt.

“We are go–”

“What kind of animal did this fur come from? They must be huge! Do they live on your island too?”

Katakuri tilted his head down, his warm, scarlet eyes shutting up your nervous chatter.

You gave an embarrassed smile, and felt more than heard a pleased hum from him. 

“We are going home, and we’re almost there.”

He stepped off the boat, setting you back on his shoulder, so you could get a better view. 

His home, his mansion, his castle? You couldn’t be sure since it was so massive.

“It’s beautiful! But you don’t live at the Whole Cake Chateau? I mean, I know this is your island. I guess I won’t be living at the doughnut shop anymore...”

He’d turned his head, looking at you from the side, and you saw his brows furrow when a sudden panic hit you.

“Am I still allowed to work at the shop,” you asked, your voice a bit high. You realized that you’d been digging your nails into his shoulder on either side of your hips. 

He offered his hand, and you reached out, letting him hold you in his palm. 

“You may do anything that makes you happy, Y/N,” Katakuri promised with that lovely voice of his, holding you at eye level. 

Releasing a deep breath along with your panic, you smiled at him. 

“Take me home, please.”

~

There were a few servants outside, but you didn’t notice any as he carried you through the echoing halls. 

“I have had a room prepared for you. Please let me know if there’s anything else you require.”

He set you gently down, leaving you to crane your neck.

“But… you’re not leaving, are you?”

Katakuri cleared his throat, going to one knee to close the distance a bit.

His gorgeous eyes poured over you, and you held your breath as he began to unravel his scarf. 

That wide, scarred mouth, and almost tusk like fangs had definitely been surprising. 

But he was still so pretty.

“Please don’t leave me here alone.”

His eyes seemed to soften, and you relaxed into his touch as he traced over your hair, then smoothed his hand over your back. 

“You want to stay with me?”

“I do, Katakuri,” you promised, touching his wrist to help him believe you.

He seems so sad.

His tells were subtle, that calm exterior so powerful.

But when he revealed himself to you, it was like he couldn’t quite hold up that wall. 

His eyes shifted away, and he nodded slowly. 

“It’s time for my merienda.”

“Your–”

“Y/N, I did not want you to be forced into this.”

You started to soothe his guilt. You’d already chosen him, but your words got caught in your throat as you watched him pull those white gloves off of his fingers. 

His hands were so big, but they were also strong, and you could see blood pulsing through his veins. 

“You are my wife now,” he sighed, breaking you out of your reverie. “If you truly want a real relationship with me, then I will have to trust you with…”

His lips were parted as he stared down at you. 

“If? Well… I’d like a real relationship if… if you’d like to be with me?”

Your breath hitched, anxiety racing as he closed his eyes, hanging his head.

“Oh,” you said, voice awkwardly high again. “It’s okay if you–”

“I’ll just show you.”

You yelped, jumping as the massive room around you was filled with a rolling, slightly sweet smelling substance. It rippled as it stretched to encompass the whole room, leaving you encased inside with your husband, and a very large table. 

“What’s happening?”

Katakuri pulled a large tray off the table, and sat cross legged in front of you. 

He set it down, and you frowned. 

“It’s my doughnuts?”

You decided to sit down as well, the squishy surface beneath you not helping with your dazed mind. 

“Please, Y/N,” he started, leaning down toward you, his voice soft. “What I’m about to share with you is something I trust no one with. I promise to be kind, and I promise to protect you. Whatever you need to be happy.”

Noticing that you had your hand on your chest, you took in a breath, the suspense making you almost jittery. 

“This secret is the most important thing in my life. It protects my family.”

You wanted to touch him, to comfort him with whatever this struggle was. But you waited.

“I know you already promised yourself to me, Y/N,” he said as quietly as his voice seemed able to go. “But if we are to truly be together, I need you to make another promise.”

He watched you nod, his scarlet eyes staring for so long, as if he could read your reaction before opening himself up. 

“When I was a child, my sister was hurt because of me.”

You leaned forward without realizing it, and tried to keep yourself still to fully hear him.

“I was attacked for the way that I look, but I was stronger. While I was relishing my victory, while I was relaxing, they hurt Brulee instead.”

You remembered his sister’s scar, ripping across her face, and your heart hurt for them both. 

“Since that day, I vowed to never drop my guard. I covered the face that had gotten my sister hurt. I became that best brother I could be, so that I could protect my family.”

You pushed yourself up from that squishy surface, making your way to him. His fingers were digging into his knee, so you reached out.

You were about a head taller than his knee while he was standing, and you gave a small smile at how close he was now as he sat like this. 

“That sounds very lonely,” you said softly, laying your hands on his strained fingers.

“It’s my duty,” he countered after a pause.

“Is that why,” you asked, leaving a soft kiss on his knuckles, “you never lie on your back?”

His fingers had relaxed as you touched his warm skin. The strange glow of the light filtering through this soft cocoon he’d trapped you in made his face seem softer, and you kissed his hand again.

“This is my secret, Y/N. I am trusting you to never betray it. To let me keep up this image of the perfect brother, so that I can protect my family.”

The hand you weren’t touching lifted, stroking your hair gently as a small smile touched that wide mouth of his.

“You’re my family now too.”

Shivers ran down your body. You hadn’t had family in so long. 

“I promise, Katakuri. I will protect your secret.”

He released a breath, clenching his eyes shut for a moment, and you wondered what this heavy secret could be. 

“Will you take a few steps back?”

You obeyed his request, your shoes pressing into that strange material.

He turned so his side was facing you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Then he let his back touch this soft ground, lying down as you grinned, and ran toward him. 

“Is this it,” you almost laughed, touching his shoulder so he would tilt his head to see your smile. 

“You’re not… disappointed?”

“Why would I be disappointed? Now I know that my husband can relax, and that we can lay down together. That’s wonderful,” you rushed out, your excitement and nerves returning as you squeezed his shoulder.

“There’s something el–”

“Katakuri, why don’t you just tell me all of it now. I promise I won’t be disappointed, or think less of you, or anything like that.”

“Alright,” he agreed, rolling onto his side to prop his head up on an elbow, his gaze so close.

“I made this room with my devil fruit power, the Mochi-Mochi Fruit.”

You almost bombarded him with questions about that, but chewed the inside of your lip.

“I use it to create a private space. This is where I come to relax. Not to meditate and prepare for battle,” he huffed, tapping his free hand against his thigh. “This is the only time and place that I get to be free to enjoy myself, without the weight of… everything.”

“What do you do to relax?”

“I lie on my back.”

You shocked yourself by giving him a playful slap against the expanse of his muscled chest, needing to pause for a moment before speaking.

���That can’t be the only joy in your life. I refuse to believe it.”

Did he blush?

Katakuri pulled the huge tray with tea and boxes of your doughnuts between you, opening the lid to grab five of them at once.

I should make bigger ones for him.

“I’ve loved doughnuts since I was small. I love your doughnuts very much,” he praised, his deep voice making your toes curl in your shoes. 

“When I take my merienda’s, I… I’ll just show you.”

Your gorgeous, frightening husband rolled onto his back, ate your doughnuts, licked his fingers, and sang.

You may have been stunned by the way his jaw stretched so wide while he ate, but then his sweet, silly voice filled the air, and you couldn’t believe you’d ever seen him as frightening. 

🎶Oh, doughnuts!

So delicious, doughnuts!

Delicious to the hole, doughnuts!

By myself, I eat doughnuts!

Lying on my back, I eat doughnuts!🎶

He trailed off as he glanced toward you, moving to sit cross legged as he wiped his fingers on his white, wedding clothes.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. Are you scared? Are you alright?”

Hot tears were burning your cheeks, falling too fast for you to catch as they dripped off your chin onto the mochi below. You tried to nod, but quiet sobs had filled your chest, and you couldn’t seem to move.

“I–I am sorry. Please, what can I–”

“My…” you choked out, your lips quivering as you clutched your chest.

“My dad… My dad used to sing like that.”

You looked up, hoping he’d understand what you were feeling since you couldn’t form any more words.

His eyes lost their near panic and pain, and you sobbed more as you watched them fill with so much sweetness. It fueled the overwhelming, bittersweet joy that had taken you over.

Memories flooded your mind, so real you could feel them. Your dad kneading dough, showing you how to glaze, smiling as his customers sighed with contentment after eating his doughnuts. 

And his silly little songs that he would sing and hum all day. His gentle soul shined through everything he did.

Without him, it was as if the sun had gone from the sky. He was the warmth that kept you safe, that taught you how to live, how to love. You tried to live the way he’d taught you, to be kind, to be grateful for everything you had. But the lack of his sweet, silly songs made joy harder to find.

“Y/N,” he breathed, reaching his hand slowly toward you, as if not sure what to do with it. 

“Thank you,” you choked out, your knees going weak.

He caught you under your arms before you fell, and you clung to his hand as your sobs started to calm.

“Is there something I can do,” he asked, speaking quietly while your breathing evened out.

“I’m sorry, Katakuri, it’s just– You've just…”

A smile broke out across your tear stained face.

“You’ve just made me very happy.”

Stumbling toward him, you fell over his knee to hug his thigh.

He let out a soft grunt, then lifted you easily to his chest. 

His thumb rubbed gently over your back as he pressed you to him, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

He smells so good.

“So you really…” he started, his words vibrating though you. “You really like my singing?”

“I love it,” you laughed, pressing a warm kiss to his neck. 

Katakuri’s body seemed to vibrate, and you could feel the chills run over him. The intensity of his reaction sent chills running through you, and you became intensely aware of how much of his skin you were touching.

“Is it alright if I look at you?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded against him, brushing the remains of tears from your face.

I must look a mess.

You sat in his hand again, a rush of feelings warming you. Your feet dangled, kicking softly back and forth as he looked at you, an almost puzzled look on his face.

“So was that the big secret,” you teased, hoping there wasn’t more. “Because I’m ready to see our bedroom now.”

Your sweet husband let out a pleased laugh, sending all that mochi away as he held you against his chest. 

“Anything to make you happy, Y/N.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I just want to squish their cute little cheeks 😭

Tag List: @shewrites02

Part 3 (End)

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[darlingshane]

do-over

Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: Thanks to your friend Claire you get a chance to rectify a mistake you did many years ago when you went out with Michael the first time around.

CW: 18+, smut, some angst, making out, vaginal sex, smoking, drinking, Michael is a recovering addict, talk about addiction, reader has a secret, old friends, confessions, scars, pet names, brief appearances of Carmy, Richie and Claire.

Word Count: 6,2k

A/N: I realized after writing this that I made Michael younger by saying reader was friends with Claire, and implied that they were all close in age, but it's all really vague. The timelines don't make sense in The Bear anyway, so don't look too closely. This was just for fun. -- Also, reader has a nickname. Don't ask me why, it just came out like that. They simply call her Zu or Zuzu.

— Links: AO3 // Michael Masterlist.

“You remember Mikey and Richie, right?” your friend Claire asks, pointing at the two guys coming into the backyard with Carmy to join the party.

“Hm. I think so,” you say casually before taking a long sip of your glass.

You do remember both, actually.

Michael especially.

It’s hard to forget one of the most embarrassing nights of your life. It was over a decade ago when you had the slim chance to make out with the guy you’ve had a crush on for years and only accomplished to make a fool out of yourself.

It’ll forever haunt you.

Michael finally asked you out at the end of your senior year, and you said yes. You went to a movie, got some food afterward, then you ended at a house party from one of his friends. Everything was going great, you were dancing and laughing, he got close, you got closer. You started kissing and then ended up in one of the rooms. Door closed. That was it. It was only you and him making out and everything was going perfect. It seemed like a dream to find that he wanted you almost as much as you wanted him. Perhaps he wasn’t into you as you were, but it was hard to think critically at that moment with his hands and lips all over you.

Now, you had fooled around before with the only guy you ever dated in high-school, but you never went all the way or ever touched you like Michael’s hands did. And given your inexperience in the field, only a few minutes of heavy petting, and you were ready to explode. There was a surge awakening something in your core that you weren’t too familiar with. Not even your own fingers ever managed to make you feel something that powerful. And when he started pressing himself between your legs that pressure building between your thighs decided to set itself free. All of a sudden, you were clutching your knees so hard to his hips, your whole body trembled underneath as you came in your panties.

You’ve heard about boys precociously coming more often than not, but never realized that was something that could happen to girls too. It made you feel nothing but pure embarrassment. You tried to hide it but all the magic was gone. And after that, you excused yourself to the bathroom to put yourself together and couldn’t handle going back to face him. So, you sneaked out the bathroom window like the biggest dork.

You never talked to him again after that.

Back then, you all ran in the same circles, but you stood away from those circles during the last couple of weeks of school to avoid running into him again. You saw him from afar a couple of times and that was it. Soon after, everyone went on separate ways for work, college or wherever they end up. You, for example, left Chicago after graduating and ended up living a good chunk of those years in Denver. The few times you’ve come to your home city, you never really tried to see him again. You ran into Natalie a handful of times, and saw Carmy when you were visiting Claire but never crossed paths directly with Michael again until today.

“Zu… you and I both know that you do remember him,” Claire nudges your elbow. “Don’t tell me you still wouldn’t hit that today if you could. And you’re single now, so…”

“Please, tell me you didn’t set this up.”

She doesn't deny it, just gives you that obvious look under her framing, evil, perfect eyebrows. Claire knew pretty well you were head over heels for Michael Berzatto once upon a time, but you never told her about that night. It’s probably safe to say he didn’t tell anyone about it either. Otherwise, you’d have heard about it by now. Someone would’ve teased you about it for sure, but no one ever did.

It really takes you aback to see him once more.

You wish she’d have given you the heads-up so you could prepare mentally to see him again. Though, it was a long time ago, you’ve often looked with regret at leaving him hanging. You’ve wondered way too many times what he thought about that night. It's not like he was infatuated with you, as far as you know. He never showed any interest before that week, so it's hard to imagine him being too heartbroken about it.

Carmy glances around looking for the two of you. Claire lifts her arm to call his attention.

“Oh, look, here's your chance.” Your friend teases you as they come closer.

“Cool it, C, please?” you say between teeth and throw back your cup before the three of them come to a stop in front of you.

She beams as Carmy quietly greets you with a one arm short hug.

“You made it! Thought you'd be too cool for a thing like this.”

“Nope, we're two fucking losers showing up at a kegger cause we got nothing better to do,” Richie chuckles. “What are we celebrating again?”

“We're not celebrating anything. We're here for moral support for Kerry. Her boyfriend just broke up with her, and she needed some people around.”

“And you thought that throwing a keg party was a good idea?” Michael finally opens his mouth and his voice just transports you back to that unforgettable night and that last thing he said to you…

You smell so fucking good.

It echoes in your head. It's printed on your skin how those words vibrated when he was tongue-deep devouring your neck.

It’s hard to keep your eyes off Michael. He still has that alluring presence that mesmerized you the first time you met him. Even more so, you'd say. His features are sharper, his stubbled jaw makes him look more rugged than you remember. Though you miss his mop of curls, the crew cut and the fade on his nape suits him really well. His outfit hasn't changed much from a casual t-shirt with jeans. You take in every detail in a once-over. Your stare lingers for a moment on the way the hem of his short sleeves hugging tightly his toned biceps, and how his veins draw the length of his arms. His shoulders seem broader in his relaxed stance. There's a tiny scar adoring his cupid's bow that you only see when he runs his tongue across his lips.

You have to make an effort to tear your eyes away from him before turning into a total creep.

“You guys remember Zuzu here, from school?” Claire's head tilts in your direction while the younger Berzatto links an arm around her waist.

“You two were practically inseparable, how could anyone forget?” Says Richie again, offering his hand up to you. “It's good to see you again, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, it's good to be back,” you shake his hand firmly and then hold it up to Michael, and try to keep your pulse steady when he wraps his large paw around yours.

“You've moved back?” it's Michael that asks this time, trying to lock eyes with you, but you refuse to let him.

“I'm in the process of it. I'm staying with Claire for a couple of weeks while I get all my stuff back, and set up everything…”

You explain while Carmy fetches three cups from the table. He fills them using the keg’s tap, and brings them over. He hands one to Richie. Michael waves his off and lights up a cigarette instead.

“You should ask her to hang out sometime. She doesn't know how to have fun anymore.”

Daggers shootout of your eyes when you glance at Claire.

“I'm here, am I?”

“Yeah but you don't seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“I mean you brought me to the most depressing kegger I've ever been to. I didn't know people still did this, but they're lamer than I remember.”

“Pfft, she's got a point there,” Michael scoffs. “I can come up with a hundred things on the spot that would be better than… whatever this is.”

“It was last minute. What would you guys have done, huh?”

“DJ for starters,” Richie chimes in.

“Food,” Michael adds.

“Better beer,” Carmy suggests.

“Strippers,” you say, and they all burst into laughter.

“I could definitely go for some strippers,” Richie holds his hand up for you to give him a high-five, and you quickly smack his palm.

While you empty your cups gulp after gulp, you chat with them for a bit, noticing more often than not Michael staring at you even when you're not the one talking. Maybe it's only in your head, but it still makes you anxious to find his eyes glancing at you as if he was trying to figure you out.

It's certainly not only in your head, cause when your phone beeps in your pocket, you check it out to see a text message from Claire who just coincidentally has her phone in her hand right next to you.

Be careful, big bear is checking you out. — it reads on your screen.

Raising a brow at your annoying, dear friend, you shake your head before typing.

Did you tell him anything about me?

I’d never sell you out.

. . .

You start typing a response but your phone starts ringing, and it’s a call you must take. So you hold that thought, and go find a quieter place away from the house by walking out to the street and pace slowly down the pavement while you talk to your mother for a couple of minutes.

When you go back inside, the group has split. You go around the house to find Richie playing poker with some guys at the dining table. Carmy and Claire are talking with Kerry on the couch, and when you look to the side you spot Michael leaning against the archway between the living room and kitchen, lighting up a second cigarette before seeing you there standing. He gives you a quick nod, and you can only nod back, and turn around to press your teeth on the brim of your solo cup until it rips.

Being here in this house, this room with all these people and music playing feels like a time capsule. It transports you back to that time. As much as you've grown out of your old self, you can help but feel that old awkwardness creeping in to undo all the work you’ve done to come out of your shell.

When you discard the cup, you go upstairs to find a bathroom since the one in the hallway was occupied. Once you're done in the bathroom, you come out to find Michael climbing up the same stairs before crossing paths with you.

“Hey, Zuzu.” His lips quirk up as you both stop in front of the other.

“Hey,” you say back.

“Thought you left.”

“No, I just went to the bathroom,” you use your thumb to point at the door, as he leans back on the wall behind him, crossing one foot over the other.

“So you know where the bathroom is?”

“Sorry?”

“Last time I saw you, you said you were going to the bathroom but never came back. Figure it was your version of the old dad excuse of – I went out for cigarettes. And then ran for the hills.”

He’s smiling, but his tone sounds passive-aggressive, and you can’t tell at all if he’s joking or not.

“Oh, you remember that, huh?” You choose to believe he’s kidding around.

“I haven’t thought about it in a while. Then I saw you here… I wasn’t going to say anything but I… I guess I’ve always wondered what happened.”

“Why? Did I hurt your ego?”

“No, my ego’s intact. But I got really worried when you didn’t come back. Thought maybe I made you feel uncomfortable or something… I just… You don’t owe me anything, but I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

With a long sigh, you prop your back on the opposite wall and collect your thoughts.

This is it. Your moment to explain if you want. You have nothing to lose. The fact that he remembers could mean that he liked you more than he led.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Michael. It was me… I uh… I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing. I had never hooked up with someone like that until you. I had some experience, but not that kind of experience if you know what I mean.”

You pause and he nods kindly at your confession.

“I guess I was afraid of going too far, or not going far enough, or disappointing you. I wanted to go back so badly, but I couldn't.”

“You could’ve told me that. You could've said– hey, maybe we should slow down… I’d have never pushed you to do anything that you didn’t want.”

“I didn’t know that. I’m not good at reading people. Guys especially. I wasn’t sure how you’re going to react, and I just bolted. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t apologize,” he waves you off. “I get it.”

“It was one of those moments that I wish I could go back and do things differently, you know? I've done a lot of things in my life that I regret, but that one was just embarrassing.”

“Don't beat yourself up, sweetheart. We were kids. There's nothing to be embarrassed about anymore. Sorry I asked… Didn't mean to make you feel bad or anything.”

“It's okay.” You pause and bite the inside of your cheek for a moment. “Can I ask you something now?”

“Shoot.”

“Did you even like me? Or was it like a one time kinda thing?”

He bashfully scratches the back of his head before answering.

“I asked you out, didn't I?”

“That's not really an answer, Berzatto.”

“Of course I liked you. I always thought you were kind and funny and easygoing. And yeah, for a moment I really saw us together. Is that a good enough answer for you?”

“That's perfect…” you sigh, glancing at the floor for a beat. “Talk about bad timing, huh?”

“Hey, we could have a do-over.” He suggests.

“Tell me you’re joking.” You scoff.

“Not if you want to. You said you wish you could go back… I’m down if you’re down.”

“That easy, huh?”

“Yeah, why not? I hate when people complicate things. I’m not seeing anyone, Claire said you aren’t either… It’s easy math for me.”

“And I thought I was the crazy one,” you chuckle.

“Is it crazy? Think about it. What are the odds of you and me running into each other over a decade later? It seems like fate to me.”

“Hm, fate looks a lot like Claire.”

“So what if she played a hand? She didn't know that I'd show up for sure. I almost didn't. If it wasn't for Paulie coming to cover Gary's shift, I'd be stuck at the shop right now.”

“Maybe you're right.”

“But?”

“No buts. I just… I'm not the same person you knew. Maybe I’m not as easygoing, kind and funny as I was.”

“I’ll be the judge of that but hey, I'm not the same person either. We could just hang out and see if we like those people. What do you say?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Yeah?” the corner of his mouth pulls up.

“Yeah, it just so happens I'm free today. I could come over later if you want.”

Since you're staying at Claire's and don't feel comfortable bringing anyone to her apartment, you agree to meet at his place an hour after the party.

Once you’ve exchanged numbers, you receive a text with his address.

You use that hour to go by Claire's place and pamper yourself a little. You're not really sure if it's a date or not but in any case you prepare yourself mentally and physically as if it was. You've older now, and have more confidence and experience than all those years ago. It doesn’t matter if you haven't been with a guy in a while, you can't pass up a chance at a once in a lifetime opportunity to rectify that awful night. Or at least replace it with a new memory. Hopefully.

Claire comes back just in time to see you doing your makeup.

“You going out?”

You nod as she leans on the bathroom’s door frame.

“Michael? Wow, you didn’t waste time. I left you alone for five minutes. See, I was right. You two would be perfect for each other.”

“Don’t ring the bells just yet. We're just hanging out.”

“Does he know about Sam?”

“No, I don't think so. Unless you or Carmen told him. I can’t keep track of what you guys tell others.”

“We didn't. It's your story to tell. But I'm just saying, you don't have to keep it a secret.”

“It's not a secret. It just didn't come up.”

“Well, you should give him a chance, he might surprise you.”

“I'll try.”

It's the last thing you say before heading out to meet Michael.

On the way there, you think carefully about what Claire said and decide to tell him upfront about Sam. It shouldn’t be a dealbreaker. You’re just hanging out. But because you know guys, and you’ve been burned in that department before, you ready yourself for any outcome.

Michael offers you a drink after closing the door to his apartment. You can tell he’s done the same as you. He’s showered, his hair is still damp, his face is clean-shaven now, and he’s wearing a different t-shirt now sans The Beef logo.

Opting for having a drink, he pours a tequila shot for you on the breakfast bar after giving you a short tour of his one-bedroom apartment while he sips from a mug filled with fresh coffee.

“I uh… I have to tell you something,” you start after downing your shot and sitting on one of the barstools.

“Oh.”

“I don’t do this often, you know? Going to a guy's place like this– I mean, I have. A couple of times. But this isn’t a frequent occurrence in my life. Or a priority.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn't. He stares at you instead, asking you to keep going with his curious gaze, as he leans his forearms on the counter.

“This shouldn’t affect you but for the sake of honesty, I thought you should know that I have a daughter.”

“Why would that affect me?”

“Like I said, it shouldn’t. But a lot of guys tend to get weird upon knowing that about me.”

“Well, that's on them. We agreed this was just to get to know each other, right? We can't do it if we pick and choose the parts we want to share.”

You nod firmly. “You're right.”

“Can I ask how old she is?”

“Yeah, she’s three. She called earlier, well, my mom did, and said she was having so much fun she wanted to stay the night.”

“That’s beautiful, Zu. Guess you have to take your chances whenever you can, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“And the father?”

“He’s not in the picture. He pays for the frame, but he’ll never be in it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“His loss.”

He props a hand on the edge of the bar, using the other to pick up the bottle and fill your empty shot glass.

“If we’re laying our cards on the table, I think it’s only fair to confess something too before moving forward.”

Now it’s your time to give him the same curious look he gave you before as he explains.

“I don’t do this often either. At least not as much as I used to. And I’ve never said out loud this to anyone that wasn’t in a room filled with people like me… Not even my family.”

You can see he’s struggling to find the words and courage to admit something, but you don’t push on it until he’s ready to say–

“I’m a recovering addict.” His voice is even, tinged with a dab of shame. But he looks you directly in the eye to gauge your reaction. “It’s been almost a year and just starting to feel back to normal. Or whatever that means. A couple of months ago I wouldn't have felt confident enough to invite anyone here. Hell, going to a party would’ve been unthinkable for me… But I’m still trying to figure it all out, you know? If that’s a dealbreaker for you…”

“It’s not. I wasn’t expecting that, but I’m glad you told me. I uh… I hope this question doesn’t come across as judgmental but is it safe for you to keep alcohol in the house?” you point to the tequila bottle.

“Alcohol isn’t my poison,” he scoffs. “But I don’t drink anymore either if I can help it.”

“You go to meetings?”

“Yeah, NA. Every week.”

“And your family doesn’t know?”

“They know some of it, but not how bad it got.”

“I feel out of my depth here but wouldn’t it be better to have someone close to talk to?”

He shrugs, “you know the Berzattos. We all have problems, we’ll rather pretend everything’s good than to admit we’re all batshit.”

“Sorry for prying.”

“No, it’s fine. I opened that door. Richie knows though. He’s seen the worst of it, has picked me up many times when I couldn’t even get up. He’s always been there, even when he doesn’t know what to say.”

“That’s good. And if it helps, I don’t think you’re crazy. It’s brave to admit that you have a problem, let alone face it on your own. Takes courage.”

“Guess a single mom would know a thing or two about courage.”

“I suppose so,” you gaze at your shot glass before tilting it over your lips.

“One more?”

“No, no. Two is enough for me. Thanks.”

You stare at the other, not sure how to proceed after that. Shit, maybe you went too deep too fast, but it’s good to have everything out in the open. If anything, it only makes him more attractive to see that he can look at his own flaws and own them. Most guys you’ve ever been with never had the balls to look you in the eye and confess something so fucked up and personal.

“Do you wanna keep talking or should we try…?” you trail off.

“Whatever you want sweetheart. I love talking to you.” He lifts his coffee mug up to his lips and takes a long sip.

“Is that a line?”

“No, it’s the truth.”

He grins, placing his mug down, and you just know it’s definitely a line by the way his lips curve up lopsided. Which you don’t hate. Though you like talking to him as well, you’d rather be doing something else than spend all night rehashing all your problems.

Standing up from your barstool, you go around the bar to face him closer. You lick your lips and tentatively cup his face before placing a small kiss on his coffee-tainted lips. His face heats up beneath your palms, and you watch his mouth curl on both sides before locking eyes with him. It’s not until you look at him up close that you can notice the difference in his beautiful browns from all those years ago. They were once eager, sparkly, and mischievous. There’s still some of that, and much more depth than you remember. There’s a lot of sadness too, and a new shade of tenderness you haven’t seen in anyone before.

“Do you think you can kiss me the way you did last time?” Your mouth draws a smile.

“I think I can do better.”

“Yeah? I’d like to see that.”

You both laugh for a beat before noticing his knuckles caressing your neck.

“Do you wanna go slow?” His fingers trail slowly up to your jaw as you nod a “yeah, slow is good.”

Fast would be okay too but you wanna taste this moment like you never got to.

As your hands slide down to hold his sides, his palms reach up to cradle your face. His head leans to the side at the same time his tongue juts out to wet his lips. His face dips, quickly shortening the distance to your mouth to capture the flavor of your kiss. It seems like a terrible combination to mix coffee and tequila, but it works. Having his tongue stirring both inside your mouth is purely delicious. You swirl with him, gently, taking your time to get used to a new flavored cocktail that probably already exists somewhere. But this one is special, cause it has you and him putting that extra ingredient.

He was right, you realize. He's grown to be a better kisser than in that old memory that's been torturing you for years. You have to keep your mind out of that night. This is a different time, different day, and two different people that have nothing to do with those old versions of themselves.

As the kiss grows tiredly eager, you both start panting for air between the sloppy movement of your lips locked together. He parts momentarily to guide you toward the couch. He sits down, pulling you down to straddle his lap.

His palms land on your hips while you take the reins again and seize his mouth at once, wanting to swallow every single drop of that magical drink called Michael Berzatto. Your fingers curl around his neck, capturing his taut muscles bulging out at the hot rush coursing through his veins. His hands become anxious, greedy for more of you. They slip under the hem of your shirt at the back to feel the warmth of your skin.

There's a thread of anticipation weaving inside your body, sending your hips to grind over his denim bulge, making him sigh with groan when you hit the right spot. You do it again, and again, until you feel him growing between two layers of annoying denim.

The dirty work of your mouth becomes too wild to tame. Even for you. You've managed to hold yourself in the past when you needed to, but this time you're not sure that you want to hold back.

Michael's fingers fumble under your shirt to open the clasp of your bra. After a coup of tries, you feel the tight elastic decompress from your skin as one of his hands travels to the front to feel your breasts.

“Is this okay?” he mumbles into the frenzy of your tongue.

“Hm, yeah, that’s fucking perfect.” Your breathing catches as his knuckles softly brush the underside of your boob.

He's rock hard by the time his paw extends fully to mold one of your boobs to the shape of his fingers. Your nipple shrinks into a hard pebble under his firm touch. He thoroughly massages your flesh before switching to the other side.

You pull away from his lips to glance down at his hand enjoying its time in the valley of your chest. He seems either quite taken with it, or perhaps he's afraid of moving forward without your approval.

You clear your throat before suggesting. “Do you think we should move this party to the bedroom?”

“Yeah, I'd like that.”

You peel yourself off him to stand up and then follow him into his room. Before doing anything else, you pull up your phone from your pocket and place it on the nightstand to make sure you can find it fast in case it rings.

Michael moods the lights to just one on the night table with a soft glow of yellow and watches you taking off your clothes for a beat before mirroring you.

It's surprising how your nerves don't even present a threat at this moment, but you're not going to question or overthink right now why you're so damn calm when you lay almost naked on his bed.

You leave your panties on and prop yourself on your elbows watching him like prey as he slips off his shirt and jeans. His chiseled body is something to admire. You can tell he's been working out. Maybe to smooth that edge the drugs gave him. He was already a pretty athletic guy back then but didn't have the same defined shapes that now sculpture his body like a Greek marble statue.

Biting your lip you glance further down to see him push down his boxers to uncover his generous erection. You can't help but admire your own work, swelled to a nice shade of deep pink and pointing up to his abdomen between the grooves of Apollo’s belt.

Your knees push together, feeling your arousal pooling in your folds when he turns around to show you his buttocks. With his back on sight, he collects something from a dresser drawer.

There's a condom in his hand when he faces you again.

“You good down there, sweetheart?” he asks, his eyes casting a dark shade from above, adding more gusto to the overly sexual charge blowing off the charts before even touching each other's naked bodies.

“Uh-hm. Could I just first…” Before he can wrap his dick in latex, you extend your hand to feel his full hardness in your palm. You wait for him to nod and give you permission to curl your fingers around it to feel it throb and ache for more friction.

It's as unexpected for you as it is for him to have you openly telling him what you want to do. If there’s something you've learned from all your past mistakes is that sex is better when you can communicate what you want. Even if it's just a one time thing, it's better to keep an open line between you two. As much as you’d want him to jump on top of you and rearrange your insides, the build up is more gratifying to you than just getting things done as fast as possible. The buzz lasts even longer. And if this is a one time thing, you sure want to remember every second of how being with him felt.

Michael puts one knee on the edge of the bed and observes your kind hand sliding down his shaft. His eyes become glossy. A gulp moves his throat up and down as he swallows a grunt when you tighten your hold around him and press down tighter, coaxing a nice wet drop to spill out of his tip.

Licking his lips, he puts his hand around your wrist to stop you before you go too far. He wants to come. But he wants to do it with you tightly wrapped around him.

He removes the wrapper of the prophylactic and rolls it on.

When she realizes you still have your underwear on, he slides them down your legs carefully, as if he was unwrapping the finest china. He notices the faint scar left on your lower abdomen from your c-section and as Michael climbs on top of you, he leaves a trail of kisses from that scar up to your neck.

As his head is closer, you hook a finger on the gold chain hanging around his neck, pulling his face down to seize his lips. At the same time, he parts your knees to nestle in between.

Adjusting your position, you lay back on the mattress with him following your cue and letting your tongue invite itself past his teeth to keep savoring everything he has to offer as your hips fit together. When his cock presses against your clit you can’t help but jolt and grind against its solid hardness. The thin layer of latex collects your dampness as you do. You grip his sides as he uses the advantage of being on top of you to kiss you back with a burning ache that sets your core in fire the longer you rub against the other.

“How does it feel, sweetheart?” His voice tenses in his throat. “You like it like that, huh.”

“Yeah, it feels so fucking good.” But you can’t bear that thought for longer than that. You need him inside pushing past your entrance, stretching your walls to the shape of his erection.

“Fuck me,” you moan before sucking his lip into your mouth.

His hand snakes down your torso to taste with his finger the arousal covering your sex.

“God you’re so wet, sweetheart,” he purrs, probing a finger before smoothly burying himself inside you.

Your eyes shine behind a layer of gloss that wells up at the corners as he pushes a couple of times carefully until you get used to his size molding the shape of your walls.

After a few experimental thrusts, he lowers his body on top of yours, letting his weight do all the work as he gradually moves faster.

“You’re gonna make me come,” he pants over your lips, feeling the tight grip of your pussy contracting every time his cock pushes deeper inside.

“That’s the idea,” you wink at him as your palms slide down his back to grab his ass.

You keep eye contact with him and stay quiet as the only sound that fills the room is your skin meeting over and over until your moans seep in. You watch his forehead and neck quickly get covered in sweat beads. He takes a deep breath before letting his grunts join the symphony. His forehead falls on top of yours, as the rhythm of his thrust picks up. His muscles strain under your palms that go back up to hold tightly to his sides the closer he drives you to the edge. Your nails dig on his ribs pushing him thrust his hips even sharper. You can feel him throb and jerk inside you as he exerts his body for your pleasure. It’s easy to tell he wants to come desperately, but he holds and holds his release for you until you reach that point.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” there’s an edge of urgency in his breathless voice as he tucks one hand underneath to rub your clit and get you to come faster.

“I… almost… fuck,” you try to word something out, but you’re so close you can only cling to his sides as your body aches for a release.

The tears collecting in your ears trickle down your cheeks when you close your eyes at that very crucial point when your orgasm reaches the highest peak. The powerful force makes your body shake like a damn earthquake, leaving your core in shambles. One of his hands holds your trembling thigh, feeling its vibrations on his palm until it passes. At that point, he cannot longer hold his own, and the squeeze of your opening around his pulsating erection just makes him spill everything into the condom. His teeth are clenched on your neck, printing a loud grunt on your skin as he comes undone. Your pussy still contracts around him up until the final drop is ejected.

That sweet orgasm slowly ebbs, but the buzz in your head lingers for longer than that. He lazily stays on top of you for a minute until he can finally push himself off you.

Painting together, you stare at the ceiling as the breeze slipping in from the open window cools your body.

“That was…”

“Yeah.” He scoffs, half glancing at you with a giddy smile.

You don't really need to give it a word. You both know how amazing that was. It’s safe to say that this is how it was supposed to be. If you had gotten your way the first time around, it probably wouldn't have been nearly as good. And now you don't have to wonder anymore or feel ashamed for leaving cause this night definitely overwrites that fiasco.

When your breathing evens out, you both turn to your side and face each other to bask in the afterglow plastered on your faces. One of his hands slips across your jaw, as his thumb caresses your cheek when you place your head on the pillow.

Your face heats up as he leans closer to place a tender kiss on your sweaty temple. As his hand slides down your warm body, he watches it draw the curves of your body as one of his fingers sticks out around your hips to draw the scar he saw before peaking just over your pubic hair. You let him do it for a second before you put a palm over it. Then, he slips his fingers between your legs to seize the mess he’s made out of you. Your juices still cling to your skin when his fingers start circling around your clit.

“Can I make you come again?”

“Please,” you let out a half laugh and push your knee higher to make room for his wandering fingers that explore all over your pussy. His eyes stay fixed on yours as he easily takes you to have a quick orgasm. It’s not as explosive, but it’s a nice aftershock that leaves your body melting into the mattress.

[zwhoreo]

republishing my masterlist to link it to my pinned post for cleaner navigation, I’m a professional now!! :)

☾⋆⁺₊✧ masterlist

quick links:

most popular smut (hunger)

most popular fluff (trying so hard)

most popular angst (careless scars)

complete list (newest to oldest):

🤍 - fluff | 🌌 - smut| 🌊 - angst | 🍶 - hcs

nightmares 🌊🤍

two years after marineford, luffy’s trauma still gives him nightmares. but he has you

can’t come down 🌌

you accidentally give luffy an aphrodisiac

 cheering you up 🌌

luffy cheers you up by eating you out

hunger 🌌

luffy gets horny and mistakes his lust for hunger

trying so hard 🤍

luffy tries to follow sanji’s advice on how to be a better boyfriend

rain 🌌

sex under a gazebo as you wait out a rainstorm

nurture me 🌌

mommy kink (the word mommy is never mentioned)

after-dinner cuddles 🤍

luffy gets especially cuddly after dinner

coming out of your shell 🤍🍶

how your romantic dynamic might work if you’re a bit more reserved, and how luffy helps bring you out of your shell

meeting him 🤍

you and luffy meet for the first time

careless scars 🌊🤍

after he recklessly abandons you in a dangerous situation, causing you injury, you and luffy have an intense and heartbreaking argument

intoxication 🤍

you and luffy accidentally get high off a fruit

something to eat 🌌

luffy eats you out

meeting boa hancock 🤍🌊

brought together by an intense battle, you meet boa hancock for the first time

caught in the act 🌌

you walk in on luffy jacking off

broken promises 🤍🌊

luffy runs off without telling you where he’s going or when he’ll be back, even though you’ve made him promise to a million times

meeting your ex 🤍🌊

luffy grows upset when he meets an ex who hurt you in the past

why luffy loves you 🤍

some reasons why luffy loves you, his girlfriend

luffy and affection 🤍🍶

how luffy shows affection when cuddling, kissing and sleeping

jealous luffy 🤍

luffy gets jealous and stands up for you when you get hit on in a tavern

gray moon pt 2 🌌

your first sexual experience (oral) with luffy

gray moon pt 1 🤍🌊

you confess your feelings and have a first kiss

swimming 🤍

you wash luffy in the ocean

you’re turned on 🌌

you help luffy when he needs sexual release (this got hit with a community label, make sure mature content is turned on in your settings!)

[byuljoonie]

Never Goodbye // myg

It’s never goodbye, I’ll always see you again…

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: one shot, angst, fluff, quick smut, rash decisions

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of mental health, mentions of past SH/scars, sad-ish smut, d-day tour, swearing, almost oral (m4f), dom!suga sub!reader, unsafe sẽx, creampie, fluff if you hate fluff.

note: My depression has been hitting so hard lately. I will re-edit tomorrow, I’m exhausted and can’t double check tonight. I love Min Yoongi, I will backflip for him. In all honesty, when Yoongi did his first live since being gone for a while, I ugly sobbed over my iPad. I missed him so much and the thought of him leaving shook me to my core lmao. Though I’m overdramatic, I am a proud military wife for 3 so far of 7 husbands. Enjoy the one shot and feel free to submit requests to the link in my bio, and listen to some of my playlists also in the bio. I will post Ramo Buchón and this story on Ao3 next week. -dubu

I stood in the dimly lit record store, surrounded by rows upon rows of vinyl records, each a portal to a different musical era. I held in my hand the debit card my thoughtful boyfriend, Yoongi, had given me to use this afternoon. He had gifted me a beautiful scarlet record player, and now I was on a mission to fill it with music.

The store was a treasure trove of musical history. Rows of records stretched out in every direction, organized meticulously by genre and artist. I traced my fingers along the spines, feeling the nostalgia emanating from each one. Rock, jazz, classical, pop – it was all there, waiting to be explored.

My indecisiveness was palpable as I contemplated my choices. I would pick up one vinyl, then another, carefully examining the album artwork and reading the tracklist. Yoongi had given me complete freedom to choose, and I wanted to make sure every selection was perfect.

In the midst of my contemplation, my thoughts drifted to Yoongi. I couldn't help but smile as I remembered the way he had surprised me with the record player earlier. It was clear that he knew just how much I loved music like him, and he wanted to share that passion with me.

As I continued browsing, my eyes suddenly lit up when I spotted the records I had been searching for. There, among the vast collection, were albums by Queen, Mac Miller, Lee Moonsae, and Diana Ross – artists whose music had shaped my life. I felt a rush of excitement as I reached for each of them, holding them close as if they were precious treasures.

With a heart full of gratitude for Yoongi's thoughtful gift and a bag full of vinyl records, I headed to the checkout counter. I knew that each record I had chosen would be a soundtrack to special moments shared with Yoongi, and that made the indecisiveness and the joy of discovery all the more worthwhile.

My collection is finally growing again and I’m so grateful to him. I checked out quickly, holding a brief conversation with the nice blue-haired woman at the counter. Thanking god for the half empty store, I stepped out into the cold air. I called a taxi on my phone and waited the everlasting 10 minutes as I nearly froze in place.

The sleek navy-blue car pulled in front of the little store, a middle aged man stepping out of the drivers side to open the door for me. I thanked him as he grabbed my bag and set it in the trunk for me. The short drive back to our apartment was quiet, the hum of NPR coming from the radio piercing the silence. The heater blowing directly at me.

We pulled up to the tall building hurrying so I can escape the cold air. I grabbed my bag from the man and tipped him extra for his generosity and service. I scanned into the building making my way to the elevators past the front desk. After I exited the elevators I grew more excited to see Yoongi. I skipped happily to our door, putting in the key code.

I’m greeted by the smell of air freshener and our puppy running up to me. Excitedly licking my hand and wagging his tail. I closed the door setting my bag on the small table near it and then taking off my shoes.

“Hi baby!” I said cheerfully looking at Yoongi as he walked over to me. He grabbed my waist and placed a kiss on my check, making his way down to my neck. Resting his head on my shoulder as he held me. I felt like putty in his palm, moving to grab his face and plant a kiss on his lips.

He hummed into the kiss, letting his hands sneak around my waist to my ass. I giggled and pushed him away immediately, missing the feeling of his hands on me already. He pained a hurt expression and I gave him a knowing look. He was supposed to be packing but the laundry basket I left him to sort through seemed to be almost untouched as it sat idle by our sofa.

“Min Yoongi why is your laundry still folded neatly in that basket?” I questioned pointing to his clothes and resting a hand on my hip. “I needed a break,” he said nonchalantly, walking to go sit back on the sofa. He was precious but we have things to do and I can’t let his cuteness distract me. I grabbed my shopping bag from the table and walked over to Yoongi, sitting on his lap so I could show him the merchandise.

“Let me show you what I bought and then I’ll go start on dinner while you actually pack,” I said smiling at the way he rested his hands on my thighs. I took the vinyls out of the bag, setting the first two on the sofa cushion next to us.

“First I got this classic Diana Ross record, but I can’t hold in my excitement anymore!” I said grabbing the Mac Miller record and handing it to Yoongi. I watched as his eyes light up in excitement. “I know I was supposed to be shopping for me but I couldn’t help myself.” I said starting to tear up. I didn’t want to cry but the emotions are hitting hard, Yoongi leaves in a few days.

“Thank you so much baby I love it,” he said setting the record aside to kiss me softly. Yoongi sighed as he stared down at me on his lap. I noticed the worry in his eyes and sat up placing a hand on his cheek. “Are you okay my love?” I probed gently.

“It’s just…I can’t help but worry about leaving you alone again while I go on tour. Your depression and anxiety, I’m afraid they might worsen, and I won’t be there to help you when you need me the most,” Yoongi said staring deeply into my glossy eyes.

I smiled warmly at his confession, cupping his face in my hands. “Min Yoongi, it’s so easy to see why your parents named you light. You’ve helped me through so much already, you are my light. I’ve learned so much from you about handling my emotions, and even on my worst days, just a phone call with you can calm me down. I’ll be okay baby, I promise,” I choked out.

Yoongi looked at me for a second, seemingly analyzing me. He nodded slowly pulling me into a tight hug. “I know you’ve grown stronger, but I can’t help but worry. You mean the world to me Y/N,” he said as I buried my face in his neck.

“And you mean the world to me too, Yoongi. We’ll get through this together, just like we always do.” I said hugging him tighter. We stayed in our embrace for a while, finding comfort in each others presence. Eventually I break the hug and get up to go make dinner, while Yoongi starts to sort through his laundry basket.

“I guess I’ll actually start getting my things in order,” he mumbled to himself with a huff. He stood up flinging open his suitcases, and throwing in a few items he eyeballed. I giggled at how unenthusiastic he was being.

“I’ll help you pack after dinner Yoongs, you know I have to double check and make sure you have everything you’ll need.” I said busying myself at the stove. After I mixed the pasta, I told Yoongi to set the table while I change and I’d be right back.

I retreated to our bedroom, eager to change into my comfortable pajamas. As I shed my days attire and donned my soft, oversized pjs, my eyes involuntarily drifted to the prominent scars that crisscrossed my body, momentos of a harrowing time that altered my life.

A wave of sadness washed over me, recalling the challenges in my journey to recovery. Moments of doubt crept in, but just as I was about to get lost in my melancholic thoughts, I heard Yoongi’s voice gently calling me from the dining area.

“Babe come on I’m hungry and your food smells too good,” he whined cutely as I walked into the dining room. I placed some pasta in his plate and sat in the chair across from him, unconsciously tugging at the short sleeves on my shirt, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Yoongi hummed in delight at the taste of the cream pasta, and I quietly chewed along. It didn’t take long for us to finish our meal, I stood up making my way to the sink, grabbing the dishes from the table. I started washing dishes, mindlessly humming one of Yoongi’s songs.

“Why’re you so quiet tonight sweetheart?” Yoongi questioned as he walked up behind me. I felt his hands wrap around my waist, he then pulled me flush against him. “Talk to me Y/N,” he said in my ear, leaving a soft lingering kiss behind.

“I’m sorry I just don’t feel the best, honestly, I feel like a burden. All these ugly scars already make me feel less than, but the thought of me holding you back from doing what you love pains me the most, Yoongi,” I said nervously, melting into his embrace.

Suddenly Yoongi unraveled his arms, reaching around me to turn the faucet off. I turned around to face him, confusion flooding my features. He gently placed his hands on my face, searching my eyes for an unknown answer.

“Will you let me show you how much I love you Y/N?” He asked. I nodded slowly, bringing my hand up to touch his that rested on my cheek. He leaned down to place a kiss on my lips, hovering close after he pulled apart.

We walked hand in hand to the bedroom, closing the door behind us. Yoongi guided me over to our bed, helping me up onto the tall mattress. He climbed onto the bed, gently pushing me to lay down flat on my back.

“With every piece of clothing I remove from your body, I’ll leave a trace of me behind. You deserve to know how gorgeous you are Y/N, how utterly irresistible and perfect you are. Every piece of you that you view as an imperfection, I view as another reason to love you.” Yoongi said removing his black shirt from his toned figure.

He removed his shorts, carelessly tossing them to some shadow realm. He looped his fingers under my, formally his, oversized shirt, pulling it over my head in one swift motion.

He stared at my exposed chest for a second, eyes flickering back to mine every so often. He then leaned down, placing a trail of kisses down my neck, and stopping when he reached my collar bone.

He started leaving behind love bites, sucking and licking at the quick forming bruises. I hissed in pleasure as his tongue felt like pure ecstasy, sighing at the way he took my nipple into his mouth.

He looked up at me through hooded eyes, staring at me intensely as he massaged and sucked my breasts. I moaned his name quietly, wrapping my legs around his torso as he moved his attention to the other side.

He made his way down my exposed front, leaving no inch of skin without a trace of his love, or tongue. He moved further down the bed, hooking his fingers under the band of my flower covered panties.

His eyes never left my face, he smirked as I watch him in anticipation. Stomach quickly rising and falling with every nervous breath. He pulled them down my legs painfully slow, I shivered as the cold air hit my exposed clit. He’s barely touched me and I’m already a soaking mess.

He placed a kiss on my left hip bone, massaging the right one with a free hand. He kissed his way down until he hovered over my center, watching the way my eyes drank in his sinful appearance. I could feel the warmth of his breath hitting my core, causing an accidental whine to escape my pouty lips.

He let out a breathy chuckle before placing a kiss on my clit. That earned another moan from me as well as a tight grip on the rappers long hair. He sat up suddenly, receiving a look of disappointment from me. “I can’t wait any longer pumpkin, I need to fill you up like the good girl you are. Gonna make you cry for a much better reason than before.” Yoongi said tossing his boxers to the side and rubbing his length against my pussy, I squirmed in anticipation.

I felt his tip probe at my entrance, his length slowly being engulfed into the hot, soft cavern. I gasped at the intrusion, squeezing Yoongi’s arm as he began to move slowly. With every thrust I clenched harder, scratching down his back as he loving fucked me into oblivion.

“I can never get enough of you princess,” Yoongi grunted out as he sped up his rhythmic movements. “This is my pussy baby you’re mine, all mine, and no one else’s.” He growled eyes darkening with pleasure.

“hmfp I…I’m all yours Yoongi all yours please please fuck me just like that,” I stuttered out, crying as my body grew sore with the force of Yoongi’s hips slamming into mine. I enjoyed every second of this painful pleasure, yanking him by the neck down to my mouth. Lewd noises echoed through our apartment, a melody of wet sounds and heavy breathing reverberating off the walls of our bedroom.

I screamed in pleasure as Yoongi reached down and started furiously rubbing my swollen clit. “Fuck down on me Y/N, let the neighbors hear all those pretty noises you make. Tell me how much you love this dick baby it’s all yours,” he said hotly leaving a trail of wet kisses down my neck.

“It’s mine oh f…fuck Yoongi I can’t take it, I want you to cum inside me please. N…need you to fill me up so I can fully be yours,” I choked out in between sobs. Before I could react the bed shook with extreme force, Yoongi unbelievably fucking me deeper, lifting my hips off the bed and squeezing my bruised hips.

I felt his dick pulsate inside me, indicating he was just as close as I was. “Fuck…cum with me baby,” he grunted out head rolling back in pleasure as his pace slowed. I felt his warm cum shoot inside me, I shook furiously hips spazzing as Yoongi gently set me down. He wiped my tears as I exhaustedly went limp, too tired to get another word out.

“I hope you know I’m going to think about this all the time while I’m gone,” Yoongi said grabbing some water from his bedside table to give to me. I mustered the courage to sit up and graciously take the water, passing him the rest after I finished. He leaned over and placed another kiss on my lips, holding me in his arms as he quietly talked me into a restful sleep.

Yoongi stood by the door, his bags packed and ready for the waiting vehicle outside. I watched him, my eyes brimming with emotions as he turned to face me.

“Y/N, I wish I didn’t have to leave without you, but I know how important your work is to you. I promise I’ll try to call you everyday, no matter the time difference,” he said softly.

“I know Yoongs, but I’m going to miss you so so much,” I said voice quivering as I struggled to keep my composure. My body shook with sadness, shoulders slouching in defeat. Yoongi cupped my face in his hands and gently wiped away my tears.

“Hey look at me, beautiful. I want you to know that no matter where I am, my heart is always with you. If you ever need anything, if you’re feeling down, just call me and I’ll answer in a heartbeat. I would fly across the country in seconds to get to you my love. I might not say it enough, but you mean everything to me Y/N there is no me without you. You’re my inspiration, my strength, and my love.” He confessed, his eyes holding a depth of emotion he often struggled to express.

“I love you too Yoongi, more than words can say,” I said while sniffling. Yoongi smiled at me through glossy eyes, clearly trying to hold it together for me. “Actions speak volumes, right? I’ll prove it to you everyday I’m away. This tour won’t change how I feel about you, and it damn sure won’t change us.” He said pulling me into another tight embrace. A car horn could be heard impatiently honking in the background.

“Goodbye my love,” I said smiling through my tears.

“It’s never goodbye, I’ll always see you again darling.”

[tw1l1te]

The Final Promise₊˚✩⊹

Chapter 3

Linked Universe x reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, soft and domestic, suggestive themes

You walk out of the bathroom, clad in Sky’ old Skyloft tunic and trousers, dirty clothes in your arms. You walk back into your room and stuff the clothes in your pack, noting to wash them the next time you get the chance.

You hear a soft knock at the door, noticing that Legend was leaning up against it.

“Old Man just wanted me to let you know that we’re leaving at dawn, towards Castle Town. Apparently we have some business to discuss with the resistance.”

Legend takes a moment to take in your form. The tunic Sky gave you was practically falling off of you.

“Oh for the love of- You need a belt… at least till we find you clothes that actually fit you.”

Legend leaves your room and comes back a second later with a leather belt. He walks right up to you and wraps it around your waist, tightening it enough to hold the tunic in place, but not tight to the point you couldn’t breathe. Adjusting the fabric, you hum at how much more comfortable the tunic feels on you.

“Better?” you nod “Good.” you expect him to leave, but he doesn’t. He takes your hands in his and looks at them. His hands are soft yet battered with scars and nicks, and callosed from holding swords for years.

He looks back up at you, searching for something in your eyes, but you can’t tell what.

“Leg? You ok?” you ask, starting to get worried about the lack of words from him.

You don’t expect him to kiss your hand, eye contact not straying from yours. You felt your entire body get hot, this moment feeling so intimate and yet, so natural. It was hard to pinpoint.

“Whatever happens, whatever you decide to do, I’m gonna do my absolute best to protect you. I won’t let anything happen to you Y/n, you hear? I promise you.” he whispered. 

You bring up one of your hands to brush through his blonde-pink bangs, and place a soft kiss on his forehead, staying there for a few seconds longer.

“I know, bunny. I know.”

~

That night was sleepless for you. You were up before anyone else, fastening supplies onto your pack and taking note of what you needed to get on your next supply run.

One by one, the heroes woke up and made their way downstairs, surprised at how early you woke up, as you typically were one of the last ones to be awake.

By about 6 in the morning, you were well on your way out of Ordon Village. You were walking alongside Wars and Four, both of whom were a bit too tired to hold a conversation, but you were more than ok with that. You needed some space to think.

What was up with Sky? Especially in the bathroom? You know things have been tense with the Shadow and constantly adventuring, but it seemed like Sky had something on his mind. You needed to find out some time soon, it kept gnawing at you.

And in terms of the other elephant in the room… you were still so lost. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t just leave the chain, as if the past year and a half was a fun adventure or game. This… this was your life now… but you didn’t belong here. You saw how townsfolk looked at you, even sneering at you for managing to catch the heroes’ eyes. As much as everyone reminded you that you were one of them… you knew you weren’t. You weren’t involved in an ancient prophecy, wielded the triforce, or even came from any of their eras. You were nobody.

~

“But anyways, this bigass fish just came outta NOWHERE and I started slashing at it and using my hook to swing on top of it-” “Wind, stop overwhelming Y/n, I can tell she already got lost at the part with the redeads.” Twilight chuckled, throwing a smile your way “Plus we arrived at Castle Town.”

Castle Town was BUSY. Everyone was bustling about, trying to hit their sale markers for the day, advertising their goods and services. You saw an ancient wares and magical items shop, but Twilight quickly ushered you deeper into the town. You’d have to check it out later.

Entering a quieter alleyway, you make your way down a set of stairs leading to a bar in a corner, no doubt being where this “resistance” acclimated. You remembered playing the game and having a hard time finding it, but you liked the little quest. Despite being in Twilight’s Hyrule twice since you first met the chain, you’ve never actually went into Telma’s Bar. 

“Link? Is that really you?” Telma exclaimed, eyes wide open with disbelief. “Didn’t think I’d see you so soon!! I see you brought some friends along?” She said, looking at the boys and then at you “And a partner?” she asked in a teasing tone.

Twilight waved his hands “Ah, no! We’re not like that. These are all my traveling companions. We just came by to see if Shad and Ashei were around.”

Telma’s eyes flashed in recognition. She knew why we were here.

“They’re in the back, they’ve been here since last night. They’ve been expecting you, actually.” She said, towel drying a glass. You all thank her, walking to the end of the hallway.

Opening the door, you see Ashei and Shad hunched over a map, notebooks and books scattered across the table.

“Ashei!” you exclaim, you haven’t seen her in ages, especially since portal-hopping so often.

She gives you a tight hug, smiling at you “How have you been Y/n? Hope Link hasn’t been too rough with ya.” you giggle at her remark, waving her off.

“Nah he’s all good, just a bit stinky per usual,” you chuckle, throwing a wink back at Twilight.

“Y’all are actin’ as if i'm not ‘ere.” he laughed in disbelief, playing along with your joke.

Ashei rolls her eyes, pulling you along to look over the table.

“Alright, anyways, why you’re all here. So, we’ve been lookin’ at the map for a bit and compared our notes with the research team. They said there was a strong pull coming from the Arbiter’s Grounds, located in the desert. Link, I know you were last there with the Twilight Mirror, did you see any other mirror-like objects?” Ashei asks, deep in concentration.

“No. Last time I was there, the Twilight Mirror was destroyed as soon as-” he takes a breath. “As soon as I finished the job.” He says, a far off look in his eyes.

As soon as Midna left him, he meant.

“Right. Ok. Well, Shad did a little more digging and got permission to access Hyrule’s archives, even the forbidden section. Apparently, something deeper is goin’ on.” Ashei gestured at Shad, urging him to continue.

“Ahem, right. I looked through the historical texts in order to see the background and history of the desert, specifically the Arbiter’s Grounds. I looked for hours on anything unusual or anything I didn’t know before, but there was nothing. However, when I got access to the forbidden archives, there were tons of unpublished and banned texts, almost as if…” he trailed off.

“Nobody wanted the public to know.” Time finished, starting to piece things together. 

“Correct. So, after reading a bit, turns out there was, or possibly IS another mirror. However, not to the Twilight Realm or a time travel mirror. This one, apparently, to whole other dimension.”

You breathed out, not sure the last time you took a breath. This was a lot, but you had to hear the rest of it.

“The trip itself can take a few weeks, especially since warp locations have disappeared years ago. You’ll need to head to the Arbiter’s Grounds and find a way deeper underground. The map in the book says there’s a whole other tunnel system underneath what has been uncovered during the Twilight Siege.”

“The mirror itself was built by some cult. No one knows the name of it or if its still active, as the mirror was said to be built thousands of years ago, possibly even before the Twilight Mirror itself. The pages on the cult itself have been long ripped out, so as of right now its impossible to know how the mirror itself was made, their motives, and history of the cult.”

The room stayed silent, everyone taking information in as it was thrown at them. Legend was deep in thought, fiddling with his rings, a nervous habit you’ve noticed.

Time and Wars were looking at each other, almost communicating silently. 

Twilight had has hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you or him, it was unclear.

Wind and Hyrule looked worried, unsure of the implications of the cult.

Four’s eyes kept flickering back and forth, as if he was conversing with the colors in his head.

Sky was biting his fingernails, another habit that you noticed from him.

Wild just seemed dazed, looking through you as if he was remembering something.

You just stared at the map, needing a few seconds to process. Holy shit. You might actually be going home.

“You alright, Y/n?” Time asked, placing a hand on your other shoulder. You nodded, not looking away from the map.

Before you could say anything, Twilight stated “Thanks Ashei, Shad. We’re gonna need to discuss a bit before we can go ahead. I assume y’all will still be here for a lil’?” he asked, waiting for confirmation from the two. They both nodded, leaving Twilight to usher you out back towards Telma’s Bar, the others following behind you two.

You all sit down at the bar, Wars ordering a few drinks for all of you, and sliding a pouch of rupees towards Telma as payment.

“Before you start getting guilty about changing our course, don’t. We want to help you, Y/n.” Time stated, not looking away from you.

He knew exactly what you were thinking, it seems.

“But its not your responsibility for you guys to take me home, or lead me there. It’s my responsibility.” you said, voice cracking. “Hell, I wasn’t even supposed to be here, I fell through the portal on accident, and I don’t know how the hell it even landed in my reality to begin with. You guys are supposed to focus on getting to the Shadow, not help me get home because I’m homesick.”

Wars sighed “Y/n, if it were anyone else in the group, we’d help them get home, no matter what. We’re a team. You’re one of us, so we’re going to do this for you. We don’t have to, but we WANT to. We want to help you get home.” He said, giving you a small smile in attempt to console you. 

You nodded, “Fair enough, I suppose. I’m not in charge of what y’all wanna do, but don’t do it because you feel like you owe me something.” you said, taking a swig of the alcohol. You needed to loosen up.

No one mentioned it out loud, but they knew what they were all thinking. After all, they are reincarnations of each other in some ways.

They’d do anything for you, you didn’t have to lift a finger and they’d do it. No questions asked.

You didn’t know that though. You just saw them as being too trusting and good for their sakes.

~

“Fuck my ears feel heavy!” you giggled, your face was all pink and you knew you were tipsy.

“I think I'm shrinking Y/n,” Four panicked, gripping his locks in his hands. 

“You’re Minish, Four. You’re naturally shrunken.” Legend mumbled, staring off into the half empty glass.

“Fuck, you’re so right.” Four groaned.

You leaned against Time, looking up through your lashes. 

“I think you’re realllll handsome, blondie.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmmm!! It’s not fair. I want them golden locks of yours.”

“Other’s in the group have blonde hair as well?”

“They do??”

You take a look at the others, realizing your mistake “Oh.”

You turn back at him and sigh dreamily “But you’re just so…. Ugh!!! Like a…. Um…. hell I don’t know. I’m not good at metaphors and stuff. You’re just hot. Yeah. Real hot,” you say, swirling your drink for the millionth time that night.

Time just stayed silent, but could feel the blush creeping up his neck. You were drunk, it didn’t mean anything…. But it did. It always did when it came from you, drunk or not.

“Alright, off to bed, you. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.” he said, collective groans coming from around the bar.

He made eye contact with Telma and slid over an extra 20 rupees for dealing with everyone’s shenanigans, mouthing a silent “thank you” at her. 

Without another word, he slung you over his shoulder and carried you upstairs, where Telma added some renovated rooms in the past few years, proving to be very helpful with the current situation, as he didn’t want to carry you outside for a few blocks to the nearest inn. 

He was gentle with you when he laid you in bed, but your arms were still around his shoulders, refusing to loosen up.

“You gotta sleep, sunshine. We gotta leave early again tomorrow.”

“Mmhh… stay with me?” you asked, slightly sleepy from the alcohol in your system.

Time considered for a moment. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Of course, scootch over.”

Time slipped his boots off and took off the breastplate and shoulder pieces of armor off, setting it against the dresser to put back on in the morning. You didn’t once look away. You couldn’t.

Your feelings have been so complicated with the chain the past few months. The past few weeks especially. You keep having… moments with them. Not tense, no, more… romantic or intimate. That wasn’t even how you wanted to describe it, but you couldn’t come up with anything else. You weren’t sure if you were reading into it too much, or hoping your 12-year old self was living her fantasy of being with her favorite character, but…. part of you hoped it was true. So when Time turned around, you were standing chest-to-chest with him, or rather chest-to-face as you were at least a foot shorter than him. Curse your genetics and lack of tallness.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry Y/n, I didn’t see you-” “Time, what’s been going on with you?” 

When you were drunk, you didn’t like to beat around the bush. But even with several drinks in your system, you’ve never felt more sober.

“I don’t follow.”

“Oh, I think you do. You’ve been acting off around me. Did I do something wrong? Did I say something?-”

“No, nothing like that-”

“Did I make you uncomfortable? Did I do or say something to make you upset with me?-”

“Y/n, no I-”

“If I did please just be honest with me because I might leave-”

He kisses you, deeply. You can feel your tears spilling from your waterline, fat pearls pouring over. You close your eyes, relishing this moment, praying to Hylia this wasn’t a dream or some mind game. You needed him. You needed them. 

You whimper into the kiss, throwing your arms around his neck, him groaning softly in response. His hands are gripping your waist, pulling you closer to him, as if he’s stopping you from running away. Leaving him.

You both hesitantly pull away, a string of saliva connecting you. You flutter your eyes open, looking at Time’s blown out eyes, him slightly panting. 

“I like you.” you blurt out, not wanting to waste another moment.

He chuckles at that, “You don’t say.”

You giggle, smacking his shoulder and muttering “asshole”.

With that, you both strip your outer layers and leave on your under tunics and pants, Time turning off the light while you get under the blankets.

You start undoing the small ponytail you made in the morning to keep your hair out of your face, but Time instead starts undoing it, leaving you to put your hands in your lap, waiting for him to finish. He places the ribbon on the nightstand and kisses your shoulder. 

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

₊˚✩⊹

[darkphoenix07]

could u do a yunho reaction / comforting reader who has cptsd related to sexual abuse? i know it might be vv uncomfortable to write about so it's okay if u don't feel comfortable with it, but i wanted to try my luck 🥺

Yunho helps you after being assaulted

Links :

Masterlist

Ateez Mental health request

Paring : Yunho x Reader

Genre : Angst, Confort

Warning : Sexual Assault, Blood, Manipulation, Blackmail, Cursing, Self Harm, Suicide. Please don't read this if you aren't uncomfortable. It's horrible so I will love it if the one who requested it reads it only.

To the girls who needs comfort for getting assaulted

Your neighbor who is six years older than you had been stalking you for a month by now. You informed police but they didn't find any evidence or you being harmed which is why they made no response. So, you didn't see that coming which was about to make your life upsidedown.

Electricity was gone when you were going to your house by stairs. Like all the other nights, his eyes were on you and you didn't even know. He dragged you, took you in his house, forced himself on you and blackmailed you to stay quiet or else he would hurt your boyfriend, you had to believe him because he knew everything about you. It was a cold obsession of his for you which you were unaware of. But now that you know, you couldn't do anything. You had to go with him in his car, his house and everywhere he told you to.

You kept avoiding your boyfriend for a whole week because he had eagle eyes, he would know right away that you had been sleeping with someone else. You weren't allowed to let him know, it could put his life in danger.

Like every other day, your neighbor assaulted you and let you go to your house, with bruises on your body and lips. Even your nose was bleeding as you begged him to stop but instead of stopping he hit your face with his fist.

You were done more with yourself than him. He was diabolical and you were feeling like a masochist for not being able to do anything. You just let him do anything he wanted to wether it was your mouth or something else.

As you got home and locked yourself, you stare at big mirror of your house that Yunho gifted for you. You don't know how to face the girl in front of you as she had scars on her wrist, palm and lips. Well, you gifted yourself all these marks because his marks didn't feel enough to punish you and also you wanted to get rid off his touches.

Why are you even living? You thought as you lifelessly stare at your filthy self. You feel like you're stinking, most importantly you smelled like him. It was too much to take.

You take your electrical razor and take off your dress. Running the razor on every part possible, you fall on the ground until you couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry Dad. I'm so fucking sorry Yunho. I can't live this way," you throw the razor away because it wasn't enough for you to perish. Maybe you are a coward which is why you haven't been able to kill yourself yet, maybe you are a masochist which makes you hate yourself even more.

You want to go upstairs but you are too dizzy to walk. So instead of that method, you take a knife from the kitchen and try stabbing your wrist. You try so hard to reach deep so your veins are cut. But they don't feel enough. As you try to slit yourself again, you feel a hand on yours.

Sitting on the cold floor, alone by the sofa, you feel your blood going cold as you look at the person behind you.

"Y/n," you start trembling hearing him.

"What the fuck are you...oh my god... There is too much blood. God, fuck... Look at me, love," he screams your name shaking you.

His eyes get bigger as he notices your whole body covering in blood, less than your wrist.

"Fuck, no... Please don't do this to me," he says as he takes you in his arms.

"I gotta call an ambulance, damn it," he says starting to leave but you call him.

"Yunho, don't call," you tell him feeling cold sweats falling from your skin. You didn't know that your mother gave the spare key of your house to him because he was worried sick about you.

He watched you with your neighbor and for sometimes he thought you wanted to leave Yunho and go for that guy. But your behavior seemed very fishy, your tired voicemail, your avoiding video calls.

"Don't you dare say a word. I am coming," he tries to leave again but you need to stop him.

"They will know if you take me. I don't want them to know. Don't take me to hospital," that is the last thing you tell him before passing out in his arms.

"Y/n!!! Shit, shit, shit," Yunho panics more as he hugs you in his arms, "Don't you fucking die on me."

He keeps trembling as he takes you in his arms and keeps your unconscious body in your bed.

As he grabs his phone from the table, he falls on the ground seeing his hands full of blood, your blood. It scares him. What if he loses you, what if you disappear from his life forever? No, he won't let it happen. He will protect you at any cost, he thinks calling his family doctor home.

The whole time he keeps his pressure on the cut but he doesn't understand how to stop the bleeding of other places. You look so pale like someone has sucked all of your blood out of you. He doesn't understand why you had to do it.

Until doctor comes and gives you stitches, tells him to be careful with you because there was scratches all over you and your lips.

After waking up, you see him staring at you. You get scared seeing him beside you, on your bed.

"Stop it, stop," he tries to control you but you keep shaking your head.

"Don't do it anymore. Give me some break. I beg you, I can't... I can't take it anymore. Please stop it," moving behind to hide from Yunho who isn't looking like Yunho in your head, you fall on the floor.

As you fall, the saline stick starts falling on you but Yunho grabs it by one hand looking at you in horror, "Baby, I am Yunho. Can't you recognize me? It's me, your sweetheart. Please stop, stop doing this to me. It hurts."

He leaves the saline and sits in front of you as you hug your knees hiding your face from him.

"I am sorry, I misunderstood you. I didn't know he has been hurting you. I am so sorry," he says softly so you don't panic anymore but you are still trembling, the scent of the sinner, his touches, his curses are all inside your head repeating itself like there are no stoping.

"Baby, please look at me once. Look at me closely," he tells you and you slowly face him, your eyes full of tears, your lips trembling and you are a sobbing mess.

"Can I touch you?" He asks crawling towards you slowly and you nod.

He has gone numb looking at how broken you are, how messed up you look.

As he gathers your pieces into his arms, you feel something warm filling you with softness and stops the chaos inside your head in instant. He doesn't leave you with one single hug, he breathes in you and let you breath. You can smell how good he smells, how perfect he looks, how softly he is holding you.

After feeling safe inside his arms, you break down in his arms starting to feel every emotions that you thought you've lost.

He hugs you closer, slowly paces his hands on your back being able to touch all of the bandages on your back. If he was in front of you, your tears would melt with his because he can't stop crying feeling guilty for not being able to protect you.

He feels like a failure, unworthy of your love.

"What happened? Tell me the truth or else I'll make him say everything," he asks you after some days as he brought you to his home for keeping you safe.

You know how stubborn you are, you tell him everything one by one and end up trembling, throwing up. He helps you to vomit rubbing your back, washes your face and brings you to bed.

You don't remember when was the last time you walked on the floor by yourself because he carried you all the time, fed you like a kid, changed your bandages by himself, stayed with you all the time making you feel like the safest person.

"No one can hurt me. Do you get it? No one. You don't have to give yourself up for protecting me. Look at yourself, look what you've done to my baby," he tells you, gives you the nicest scolding and for the first time you smile in front him.

He hugs you again and kisses you on the forehead, "I've taken care of him. He will die soon."

"What have you do-" you start to ask but he puts a finger on your lips, "No question. Tell me what can I do for you to make you feel good. Do you want to go somewhere far away? Beach House? Anywhere, I'll take you anywhere, love."

"I want to stay home with you for a while. Can we do that?" You ask him, scared of him saying no that he has works.

But he makes you straddle him and touches your forehead with his, "I'll be home with my baby and kiss every part of you until you forget everything about the past weeks."

And he does, he takes care of you, moulds you into a new version of you as you get well.

[ To the people who got assaulted by someone. You did nothing wrong. It was them, they were wrong for doing this to you. So, don't think you are filthy or unworthy of love. You deserve more love for only surviving, doesn't matter what you did to survive this. So, thank you for surviving. You are doing a great job. ]

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Hey Mimi!

700 ??? I’m so happy to hear that you’ve been getting all the praise for your wonderful mind and writing. I always enjoyed your writing and think you’ve such talent! Thank you for taking the time to set up these little roulettes - I always look forward to sending in a request and reading the others you’ve done! With that, I know you can cook up something fantastic as always. I love how you write Crosshair — especially an imperial!crosshair or do I dare say, purgetrooper!crosshair— and you know, you’re so great at writing Medic!Kave —you can always try an ISB Agent!Kave but whatever you choose you have free range on this one — here are my top favorite quotes….

16. "There is always something left to love." Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

19. ”For you, a thousand times over." - Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner

21. "Anything worth dying for is certainly worth living for." — Joseph Heller, Catch-22

@kavecika Hello love,

Thank you so much for sending in such an awesome request. Sorry for the delay, but I hope I did Kave and the story justice. So I went with Medic!Kave, and Imperial!Crosshair. But it takes place during Season 3 of Bad Batch.

More specifically the latter half.

I hope you enjoy it.

Love oo

Never Give Up

Warnings: Torture, wounds, depression, anger, danger, angst, fluff-ish (if you squint), forehead kiss, I think that's it. If I miss anything, please let me know.

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Kave hated having to walk through the prison cells on Tantiss. 

One there were too many clones, too many that looked like friends that were long gone. Too many that were injured. Too many that looked lost and defeated. Every step she took broke her heart a little more. Yet, if she could offer even a little bit of care, a bit of comfort, then that’s exactly what she’d do. 

Zhellday was the worst day of every week, the new prisoners would’ve arrived at the beginning of the week, which meant they would be sent to Dr. Hemlock, they’d be tortured, experimented on, and driven to the point of madness. 

Now, it was her turn to check on them, which basically meant to see who survived or who was too brain damaged to continue.

It was hard to see clones so broken. 

At least most had survived this time, she opened the last cell to see a very sickly clone, he was quite thin, his head had been shaved, and there was even a burn mark on the right side of his temple, from what she could see. 

She went to her cart pulling out her scanner, good news was that he was still alive, bad news was that his wounds were extensive. She focused back on her cart getting the bacta patches and cleaning solutions she’d need to tend to his wounds. She hadn’t been paying attention to him, when the clone beside her rolled. 

Kave’s heart registered him before her eyes and mind did. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, as her eyes focused on the crosshair tattoo on his right eye. 

Her eyes welled up with tears as her lips trembled. She reached out her shaky hand to cup his very thin cheek, when she looked at the lines on his face, his sunken appearance, it hit her how difficult things had been for him. Especially when her eyes landed on the burn on the side of his head, her fingers gently trailed along the scar… what had he suffered? What had he endured? 

It didn’t take her long to tend to his wounds, and she knew she needed to leave, but she couldn’t pull herself from his sides. She gently pressed a kiss to Crosshair’s forehead. 

“I’m here, sweetheart. You’re not alone.” She whispered hoping he’d be able to hear her. She stood and took her supplies, looking back one last time before leaving him. 

It killed Kave not being able to be by his side when he needed comfort the most, but she needed to get her other work finished. A million questions ran through her mind, how did he end up here? What did he do that landed him in this godforsaken place? The last time she saw him, the both of them had exchanged heated words, she’d been frustrated he didn’t see how dangerous the Empire had become, frustrated how he refused to continue the discussion, how he didn’t even see that trying to hunt down his own brothers and civilians was a despicable act. It had been in the heat of anger, but before she could even stop herself the words were out of her mouth. 

“I can’t even look at you. You disgust me.”

She never meant it. Gods, how she wished she could’ve told him she regretted ever uttering those words, but no matter how hard she searched for him or tried to find information on him, he became a ghost, as all Imperial Commandos were in the system.

Once her duties were done, she found a way to sneak back down to the prisons, heading towards Crosshair’s cell, she opened it quietly. Her first concern was his wounds. 

“I’m back like I promised.” She whispered as she changed his bandages, “Look at you,” her voice trembled wondering how much pain he was in, “I’m sorry…” her eyes shifted to his face, shocked to find his eyes looking at her. 

“Kave?” His usually strong, confident, and snarky voice now sounded pained, confused, and completely exhausted. 

“Hey …” she gently shifted her hand to caress his face, “I’m here. I’m gonna get you out of here. Okay. I’ll come up with something …”

His shaky hand reached up and touched hers, “You’re real.”

“Yeah.” She smiled despite the tears in her eyes, “I’m real. I’m sorry, Crosshair. I’m so sorry for saying those things to you. I’ve regretted it…”

He shook his head weakly, “You were right …” he whispered, “I … I deserve this.”

“No. No you don’t.” She shifted closer, “No one deserves any of this. You don’t deserve this.” She emphasized. 

“You …” his voice shook, “you shouldn’t be here. You … you should leave.”

“Not without you. I can’t leave you.” She leaned closer, “I still love you. I’ve always loved you. I’m not leaving you.”

“There’s nothing left to love.” He strained to tell her he couldn’t bear to see her here. To be in this place that consumed everything.

“There is always something left to love.” She smiled back.

He looked at Kave with affection and longing, “I’ve missed you. We should’ve left when you told me.”

“Still plenty of time for us to escape.”

“We could die… you could die.” Crosshair whispered, wishing he had the strength to actually pull her into his arms. 

“Anything worth dying for is certainly worth living for, my love.” Kave pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, she could see in his eyes how much he wanted her closer. 

Crosshair gently touched her cheek, his fingers lifting ever so slightly, “Do you ever give up on me?”

“Never.”

“Never stop loving me.”

“I never will. I will fight every day for the both of us. For you, a thousand times over.”

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[signed-loni]

Glue Song

summary: your leaving nockfell to go to california for your moms job, but want to sing your song with sal, one last time.

A/N: so, i saw this vid by @/frankoceanshrine on tt with her singing glue song with her boyfriend before she moved to cali. Thought i’d use that as an inspo for this

CW: angst?? Reader is GN, shitpost, reader and sal both cry, present AU, no use of y/n

Very short, sorry ml

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ”ive never known someone like you” me and sal sang, a sense of familiarity coming with what we were singing, this being our song

“Tangled in love stuck by you, from the glue” we kept singing. Sal strumming his guitar expertly, while my eyes started to fill up with tears. This was the last time we would sing this until I moved out of state to for my moms job.

“dont forget to kiss me, or else you have to miss me, I guess in stuck forever by the glue, oh and you” now, the tears were streaming down my cheeks, my nose was running and sal looked like he was about to cry to. Sal looked at me with a sad smile as we started humming the melody beabadoobee was singing come this part if the song. My voice was shaky as I hummed, and Sal looked as if he was trying his hardest not to cry, but it wasnt working.

I started crying a little harder, it being a bit hard to calm down as we sang the next few lines. “Findin’ the right words to use for this song, I have you in mind so it want take so long”

I make eye contact with sal and now hes crying. Tears are streaming down his scarred cheeks as he looks at me with a bittersweet smile as we carry on singing.

“Never thought i’d find you, but you’re here and so I love you” that one hit hard. Because I wouldn’t be here come tomorrow.

“Im not lyin, when I say ive been stuck, by the glue onto you” i scoot closer to sal and rest my head on his shoulder. Seeing him strum his guitar while I cry, tears falling off my cheek and into his shirt, dampening that part of his shoulder

“ive been stuck by glue, right onto you, I’ve been stuck by glue.” We now cant sing a single line without it sniffing and crying.

“Ive never known, ive never known someone like you, ive never known, ive never known someone like you” as we finish the songs, I think deeply about the last lines. Ive truly never known someone like sal. The things hes been through, his style, his mask, his story. Just him in general. I had never met someone like him, and I dont think I will again.

I look over to sal, hands covering some of my face, and I ket out a small whine before I start crying. Hard. I lean down to sal and he quickly puts his guitar down, his hands coming down to my back and stomach as he held me, pressing his face into my neck as we both cried together. Knowing, this would be the last time we would be able to do this again. “I love you (name)” sal said quietly to me, sadness lacing his voice, and it was clear he was crying just as hard as me. “I love you to, Sal. So, so much.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sry if this sucks booty butt lol.

Link to the tt ⬇️

[the-coffeeaddict-tim-drake]

Just A Kid Next Door - Chapter 4

Bruce is finally back from being stuck in the time stream. Tim managed to save Batman and his loved ones. Now it is time for Tim to go home and rest. But the problem is that, Tim has no home. Or that's what he thinks so.

This will be a multichapter fic on how did Tim reconcile with his family. It will be full of angst, family feels and family shenanigans.

Masterlist

Here in the link to read the story in ao3.

-------------------------------CHAPTER 4---------------------------------

Removing his shoes, Jason entered the apartment. The apartment was pitch black, except for the light spilling from the kitchen. Sighing, Jason removed his helmet and gear and put them on the coffee table along with his duffel bag. After typing in the code on his wrist, he carefully removed his red domino mask as well.

Jason then made his way to the kitchen. He was wondering where did his little brother stay all this time, because last time Jason checked, Tim had sold the drake manor. And there was no sign of him in Gotham for last six months. It took Jason a whole week to search for his little brother before he gave up.

He knew Tim had a bad habit of disappearing out of the blue for cases and stuff, but their last conversation had formed a pit of dread in Jason’s heart.

Jason sees a lean but built figure facing away from him, sitting on the same barstool that Tim had sat last the time he visited Jason. The figure was clad in red and black Kevlar which included a black and gold utility belt crossing over his chest in an ‘X’ shape and long black cape.

“Jason” the person called out.

“Tim?” Jason asked, surprised.

Wasting no time, Jason went and stood in front of his brother. Long gone was the scrawny little child that Jason had encountered few months ago. The Tim in front of him was different.

Tim had hit a growth spurt. His voice was no longer boyish, it sounded smooth and deep, and he had even lost the little baby fat that he had on his face before, which is now sporting sharp features. His hair a little longer than what Alfred would consider decent. And the most evident thing is that, his brother was not scrawny anymore. He is built.

His brother is fucking built.

Maybe not as much as Jason, but he is still built somewhat equal to Dick.

Tim looked up at Jason, his eyes empty of any emotion unlike last the time he had seen him. Jason then noticed that Tim looked tired, like he hasn’t been eating and sleeping properly. And what Jason finds hard to believe is that he looks older.

He is not a small boy anymore.

His little brother grew up.

His little brother was forced to grow up.

His childhood was snatched away from him. He faced all the hurdles that this world threw on him, alone, even when he had a huge family for him.

“Babybird” Jason called out.

Tim’s eyes were cold, like all the life has been sucked out of him. And Jason can see a faint scar running from his right eyebrows to his cheek.

“Where the hell have you been, Tim? You know how many days I searched for you. Do you know how worried I was? I thought you were kidnapped, or worse kil-.” Jason stopped himself from completing the statement.

Jason sighed heavily. He was pissed.

“Bruce is alive, Jason. He’s in the Manor.” Tim said, his voice sounding almost robotic.

“Yeah Babybird, I knew. Supes informed”

“Okay” Tim nodded.

Silence filled the room for the next few seconds.

“Thank you for your time. I’ll take my leave.” Tim said while standing up and going towards the window. Jason blocked his way, but Tim did not even look up.

“What happened to you, Timmy?”

No reply.

“Talk to me Tim, what happened?”  Jason held Tim on both sides and jerked him.

Tim showed no reaction. Jason’s anger flared.

“Six months, Tim. Six months. I haven’t seen or heard from you for almost six months. And now you pop out of nowhere just to inform me about Bruce’s arrival. Do you know how worried sick I was?” Jason spat.

Still, not even a single expression crossed his brother’s face. Jason felt like his brother was replaced by some stone.

“And did you come here just to inform me about this? After all this time!"

“I doubted the others in the Manor would inform you. That’s why I came here to do it myself.” Tim said, his expression still stoic.

“Fuck” Jason cursed.

He started pacing back and forth while running his fingers through his hair. Tim’s behavior was pissing him off. His brother behaved like a complete stranger.

“Please Jason, let me go.”

“No fucking way, replacement”

Tim sighed. Jason was at least glad for the first human emotion that his brother showed since he came.

Jason didn’t know what else to do. His little brother looked like he was haunted. Pale face, fading scars, dark eye bags and serious expression was not what he expected from his brother when he entered his safehouse.

So Jason did the only other thing that was left out.

He hugged the kid. He noticed that Tim had grown considerably tall, he was now upto Jason’s ear.

This made him feel bad. He had missed seeing his little brother grow up to an adult. ‘Almost an adult’ his brain chimed.

Tim became stiff. And then he almost melted into the hug.

Tim snuggled closer to his brother.

“I missed you so much, baby brother” Jason said, after a minute into the hug.

“I’m not a baby, Jason” Tim hissed.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, but right now you are acting like one” Tim scorned

“Sarcasm still intact, I see”

Tim huffed. Jason laughed and ruffled his his hair while breaking the hug.

“I missed you” Jason said emotionally.

“I know”

“Fuck you, replacement. The correct answer is ‘Yes, I missed you too, Jason, my all time favorite brother” Jason mocked, in an exasperated childish voice.

Tim shakes his head, hiding a small smile. Jason was happy to be the reason behind it.

Jason broke the silence after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

“Did you go and see Bruce, Tim?”  

Tim visibly stiffened. His cold demeanor was back again for some reason.

"Yes"

‘Did I say something wrong?’ Jason thought.

“You went to the Manor?”

“No”

“Then how did yo- wait, you went straight to the watchtower?” Jason asked, surprised.

“Kinda”

“How did you know about Bruce though? Did superman tell you?”

“I figured it out myself, Jason. Tim scoffed, becoming restless by each passing moment.

"I was trying to prove the exact same thing all these months, but nuh-uh, everyone said I’ve become crazy or something. But look how that turned out, huh. I was there in the watchtower, helping the league in bringing back Bruce by the way.” Tim rambled, his voice sounding angry.

Oh

“Oh”

“I’m sorry, Babybird. I shoul-should’ve believed in you. But- ”

“But what, Jason? You all thought ‘Oh poor little Timmy has lost it. He is unable to accept his mentor’s death. He has finally lost the little sanity he had left in him” Tim mocked, his face clear with annoyance and anger.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault”

Tim sighed. He ran his fingers along his hair. He looked everywhere but at Jason.

“No no, I’m sorry Jason. I know I sounded a little crazy back then. Hell, I sound crazy even now. But you should have at least had a little bit of faith in me.”

“I’m quite relived that you did not call me out for being crazy and thought I would become a villain or something” Tim said, recalling the times he have overheard heard the other justice league members and superheroes talking behind his back.”

Jason felt like shit. He felt bad for not believing his brother when he knew that the young boy’s hunch is never wrong.

“I’m sorry, Tim”

Tim gave Jason a tight lipped smile before moving towards the window.

“Will you be coming home, you know, to see Bruce?”

A few beats of complete silence followed.

“Home? What home?”  Tim said bitterly, before pulling over his cowl and jumping from the building.

[angeart]

AU Masterpost [tags]

I think it's time. So I can keep track, and you guys know what's out there and how to search for it <3 I'll try to order AUs based on how much there is to them. Some AUs will only have a single thought/art underneath their tag, but there might be more added to them in the future, and if you're curious about anything, you can always ask. (I'm very easily convinced to drop rambles, as has been proven in the past—)

*

Help Me To Breathe [hmtb]

my main multi-chapter story, set in s8 boatem. deaths abruptly hurt on hermitcraft, and each respawn makes it worse. scar dies a lot by grian's hands, before grian even learns (the hard way) that things hurt now. welcome to a scarian angst hellhole where 3rd life flashbacks hit like bricks and guilt is mercilessly spilled everywhere <3

this fic is the epitome of it gets worse before it gets better. trust me.

cws: violence, ptsd, anxiety attacks, delusions, unhealthy coping mechanisms, suicidal ideation, suicide, temporary character death... please check tags on AO3 which i try very hard to keep updated

tags: #hmtb - an all-encompassing tag for fic updates, rambles, and art. (sometimes #hmtb art is also used in tandem, where relevant.)

fic: Help Me To Breathe on AO3

*

Hunted hybrids [hhau]

hermitcraft s8 got code-attacked and all the hermits got scattered into different worlds, lost and stuck in unfamiliar places, not knowing if their home still exists. the au follows scar and grian who ended up in the same world (although originally unaware)—a world dangerous and hostile to hybrids. grian is an avian, scar is a vex, and they're hunted relentlessly. also, it's permadeath <3

this au is self-indulgently used in RP and co-owned by linkito

cws: violence, blood, dehumanisation of hybrids, self harm (feather plucking), mentions of suicidal ideation... [updated cws in the hhau masterpost]

tags: #hhau

this one got out of hand so >> hhau masterpost <<

*

Boatem circus

scar, a sea-lion hybrid, builds a circus as a safe haven for all the hybrids and misfits that have nowhere to belong and need a place to heal. they all carry their own traumas and wounds, and scar gives them what they never had: gentleness and options and freedom to roam or leave. but it's not easy, navigating a growing community of varying triggers and buried pasts.

au put together with stiffyck

cws: ptsd, panic attacks, fear of fire, loss and grief, mentions of captivity/torture/abuse

tags: #boatem circus au

fics: don't be afraid, little bird (there are no cages around you now); elegy

[AO3 series link]

*

Sleep demon Grian

grian is a sleep demon, existing in the dreamscape, able to manipulate dreams and thriving on giving people nightmares. he meets scar in a dream, immediately intrigued and amused by his reactions, and he keeps coming back to him. scar, despite all the nightmares being thrown at him, catches a glimpse of his perpetrator, and grows curious in turn. they start talking, everything eventually culminating into a ritual and a summonning circle. grian, in the waking world, needs to learn how to exist somewhere where he can get actually hurt, and come to terms with the fact that he has locked away memories and trauma.

cws: injuries, fear, panic, nightmares(?), trauma, violence, memory repression

tags: #sleep demon grian au

au rambles: here

fics: the nightmare snippet; even if it hurts (and even if it isn't a dream) you can have a home here

*

Cursed forest

found family boatem, where each of them carry their own heavy past and an attached curse. they thought they'd never find a place to settle that'd accept them and let them heal. but they found each other, deep in a hidden away forest, littered by bones and flowers, death and hope. (honestly, just see the au rambles.)

au put together with stiffyck

cws: animal death, necromancy, grief and guilt, body horror

tags: #cursed forest au

rambles: here

fics: even with death haunting your footsteps, your flowers will bloom again

*

Ari au

grian (he/she) is ariana giande (ari), a famous singer beloved by the crowds. except things start getting a bit too out of hand. there are stalkers and people who think they have the right to ari's personal life, the right to see and dictate everything. the press gets out of hand. maybe the crowds get too rowdy. maybe—

more scared and overwhelmed by the second, grian gets a bodyguard. that bodyguard is scar. things continue to escalate though, and by the time ari calls a break in her career, everything's irreparably breaking down around her.

(If it wasn't clear yet, this is one very dark, very heavy, very human story. There's love and so, so, so much despair. Things go wrong and then worse.)

au with Ben

cws: papparazzi hounding, stalkers, lack of privacy, blurring of self, drugging and [attempted] SA, physical assaults, self harm, overdose, medical trauma, restraints, seizures, ptsd, depression, suicidal stuff (including several attempts)

tags: #ari au

au rambles: [part I] - [part II] - [part III] - [part IV] - [part V] - [TBC]

au art:

downfall in three stages - here lake scene art - here

*

Assassin au [work title]

grian is an assassin, scar is elven nobility. one day, grian is sent to kill scar, but upon meeting, they find out that they know each other. i promise i'll add a better description at some point.

cws: blood and violence, mind control, being generally oblivious about life, survival scenario, murder, possible animal death

tags: #assassin au (subject to change)

*

Misguided Heroes

scar is secretly hotguy, a hero meant to protect the people. grian is a shopkeeper at barge, but with self-proclaimed king ren wreaking havoc on economy and making life of ordinary citizens so much harder, he decides to secretly play vigilante, cuteguy, and stage a one-man rebellion.

also, scar and grian are roommates.

au for rp with sima <3

cws: injuries, illusions messing with perception/reality, [to be determined]

tags: #misguided heroes au

*

Ghost Scar

grian is a paranormal investigator. scar is a ghost. they meet, they talk, and grian resolves to do his best to make scar feel less lonely.

cws: dead character??? he's a ghost dw he's fine-

tags: #ghost scar au

fics: you exist in silence (i'll help you make a sound)

*

Silly vampire Scar

scar is a vampire living in a mansion too big and too lonely for him. grian and mumbo are survivors in a world riddled with monsters, which they learn to hunt and kill. one night, they seek shelter in what seems to be an abandoned mansion—

cws: general vampire stuff, [to be determined]

tags: #vampire scar au

fics: [one day]

*

Cuteguy au

things do be angsty in this one. scar is hotguy, grian is his sidekick cutecuy. one day, things go wrong and a building explodes with scar still inside. the body is never found. hotguy is presumed dead. that is, until cuteguy comes face to face with a new villain that is oddly familiar—

idea loosely bounced off of stiffy's TOGH au

cws: blood, violence, delusions, brainwashing, grief, loss of identity, presumed major character's death (twice. wild. huh.)

tags: #cuteguy au

*

Papers please au

what it says on the tin. scar lives with his cat jellie in a cold, small, state-provided apartment and gets assigned a job as an immigration officer at a border checkpoint. he... isn't great at the job, but doesn't have a choice, and needs the money to keep them fed and healthy. grian is the head of resistance, because of course he is <3

cws: dystopian world, cold, hunger, sickness, potential pet death, injuries

tags: #papers please au

*

Spirit au

grian is an avian living freely in a patch of forest. that is, until he gets caught by people who think hybrids are on-par with working animals, and is shackled and hurt and trained, to serve. there is a looming war, and flight-capable carriers are very valued (but not much cared for). scar is a vex hybrid, coming from a settlement that's kinder to hybrids, who also gets captured. they meet in captivity, and things happen.

cws: hybrid slavery, hybrid dehumanisation, loss of freedom, abuse, warzone stuff

tags: #spirit au

*

DL rp au

grian and scar in double life, soulbound and with vague memories of previous life games. their soul connection transfers not only all the pain and injuries, but also emotions. and they both feel. a little too much. (they're a mess, but also in love, as they should be)

au for rp with sima <3

cws: they very sad; self destructive tendencies (sorry there's no self in this one, they are linked and there's always collateral-)

tags: #dl rp

*

Half sea town au

a town half-submerged into the sea. the upper half is reserved for humans, who are seen as better, richer, the posh and the nobility. the lower half, the submerged part, is slum-like, reserved for seafolk, seen as lesser. many seafolk learn to live on land, to improve their standing (not necessarily living situation; they do need water). mumbo lives amongst the nobility. scar lived his whole life in the sea. grian, even though he belongs to the seafolk, lives on land. mumbo's best friend, forever trying to be something he isn't.

a crackers collective au

cws: er.. class divide?, self worth issues, needs denial in a way?

tags: #half sea town au

*

The underwater au that somehow fails to have a name the first thing i ever posted on tumblr woo.

an underwater au set somewhere in the wide, deep sea. merfolks. mumbo is a prince, grian, jimmy, and joel are his guards. scar is a deep-sea fish, and tales say those are scary and horrendous and dangerous. (he's just a silly guy, pls)

stiffy/crackers collective au

cws: injuries, idk

tags: #mer au

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

smaller aus/ideas:

last life scar: #post-ll scar's issues with touch

fixing double life scarian: #fixing dl au

puppeteer scar: #puppeteer scar au

cannibal scar/forest (the game) au: #forest au

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

others' aus that i have yoinked and might have content for:

#grumbo apocalypse monster au - ben's au that i slinkered my way into <3 - ben's au masterpost here - grian is very much a (horror) creature :3

#space grian au - also belongs to ben. also burrowed my way in to this one. hehe. (ben none of your aus are now safe from me.)

#snifflins au - crackers group au, based on that one time jimmy and scar were piglinmynose, and joel and grian were sniffermyfeet - twisted into snifflers and piglin hybrids (snifflins!) in the aftermath, trying to get used to their new bodies and instincts and needs.

#desert alien scar au - belongs to stiffy

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

+ a whole bunch of aus (some collective ones) that i haven't talked about on tumblr yet <3

(for example, the zombie whisperer scar/dancing zombies au - postapo, (mum)scarian, with one redscape-focused fic (written for stiffy): the blooms in a dead world)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

(if i missed any cws for any of the aus, please let me know!)

reinstating that if you're curious about anything, i don't bite! come ask!

[my AO3]

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Part 30

I’m Coming for You

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 7249

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: You spend some quality time with your family while you learn about the wedding plans. The boys make some plans of their own.

Author's Note: Thank you for waiting, and for all the love on the chapters! Love y'all so much!! 🙏🏼💜😭 There is a flashback scene within this chapter that involves another panic attack/dissociation episode similar to what we've seen from the reader before. I'll bracket it with these symbols: ~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! 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, Mental Illness, Grief, Toxic Family, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Drugs, Masturbation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~~~🗡️🔴🤡🐊~~~

Fighting the urge to ask how Y/N was doing had Crocodile tapping the side of his hook against his thigh, harder and harder, until his little prince shot him a look. He cleared his throat, downing his scotch before interrupting the other men in their various perches around the suite. 

The night had dragged on. Dinner, drinks, then more drinks, had all passed while the four men reviewed every note, rehashed every theory, and tried not to ask Buggy about his star. 

“Couldn’t get anything on the doctor tonight, but I put out some feelers. Let me know if you hear anymore details–”

“You got it boss,” Buggy agreed, although his voice wasn’t holding much. Adrift and empty while he laid on his back, his floating hands held page after page above his tired eyes. 

The scarred man took a breath, pushing himself up from the loveseat to head toward his dresser, removing his hook before he kept hitting things with it. 

“I also offered some former officers a position in the Guild if they can bring us any useful intel on him or Sylvad.”

“Officers,” Mihawk asked, appearing beside the larger man to take over unbuttoning his silk vest. 

Crocodile felt his lips twitch up, the hint of a smile as the swordsman fussed over him. 

“Yeah. I didn’t wanna bring them on after… I’m glad Daz Bonez followed me here. He’s shown skill, competence, loyalty.” 

The ex-Warlord let out a sigh when long, wicked fingers traced over his now bare chest. 

“Galdino’s shown that he might not be as much of a coward as I’d thought, but I still wouldn’t send him out without a partner. As for the rest of the Baroque Works failures, I would have happily forgotten about that worthless cafe of theirs if we didn’t need all the help we can get right now.”

“How big of you,” Mihawk purred, his teasing eyes bringing a laugh from his frightening business partner. 

The swordsman felt drugged. The guilt, pain, and rage he carried for his tortured darling filled his body every moment, but there was something else pouring in. 

He was high. 

Mihawk had always taken care of his lovers. It made wrecking them magnificently more fun, but now he couldn’t seem to stop. Today, he’d drawn smiles and laughs from his three lovers while they all fought for his fourth, and each moment steadied him. 

This is what I was running from? Caring if someone else is happy?

His reverie crashed hard, the next words uttered in the room bringing them all to attention.

“I’m gonna call Sylvad in the morning,” Shanks announced, leaving his seat on the coffee table to join his clown on the floor, while the eyes of the Cross Guild burned into him. 

“I think I’ll—“

“We don’t have enough yet, moron,” Buggy scolded, shoving him a little harder than he meant to. “Star’s gotta have a reason. She would have told me… Your stupid card is our only opening right now. Don’t be a fucking idiot and give away our best shot.”

“I know, Bugs, but I–”

“I agree,” Mihawk cut in, all of his feelings brought back to her, and the danger and distance between them. “We can’t waste that opportunity until—“

“Why now?”

Crocodile’s voice made the room pause, that deep, gravely sound doing almost as much as the blunt, yet inquisitive tone. He stared at the prettyboy, giving him a chance to explain.

Shanks straightened up, offering the larger man a crooked smile for the chance to prove himself.

To make it up to her. 

“Sylvad’s bringing all those men there to marry Y/N,” he started, smoothing his hand over Buggy’s arm when his clown started grumbling. “Sounds like he wants to make some sort of deal, wants powerful ‘friends.’ What if—“

“Of course,” breathed the swordsman, dangerous eyes flicking between the other men. 

“Can you do it, Red Hair,” Crocodile urged. “Can you play the villain?”

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Buggy growled. He’d finally heard his star move. It felt like hours had passed after dinner, but she’d stayed so quiet. 

She hadn’t been sleeping, she’d just been... still. It had been wearing on him, but now Buggy could hear her body moving around, slowly, but more than that frozen emptiness that had chilled his heart. 

He could hardly think in the room he was in, until Shanks grabbed his shoulder, drawing him in with those soft, brown eyes. 

“I’m gonna charm the sea beast, Bugs,” he whispered, fear and hope tingling through him. “I’ll make him want to cut deal with me, so he’ll let me—“

“MARRY HER,” the clown almost screamed, everything in this room becoming crystal fucking clear. “You’re gonna marry my—“

“Bugs, baby, hey. We’re gonna get her out of there before the wedding, okay,” Shanks soothed, trying to exude the confidence he used to have. This Emperor of the Sea didn’t think he’d return to his old self until he saw Y/N’s empty eyes filled with light again. 

Those empty eyes had branded guilt onto his heart, and he refused to mope about it for the rest of his days. He found Crocodile waiting for him again, so he answered that frightening man’s question. 

“I was already a villain to her,” he confessed, knowing that he couldn’t stop now. Nothing would stop him from fixing this. From protecting her. 

“I owe her,” Shanks vowed, showing Buggy the truth in his eyes. “I’ll do anything to get her back. Even become a monster.”

~~~🗡️🔴🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Waking up. 

You were not a fan. 

Servants were already milling about in your room, and you wished that screaming at them was an acceptable hobby. Instead, you gave in, letting strangers dress you, do your hair, your makeup. 

The way he liked it. 

“Pros and cons,” you muttered to yourself while they ushered you through gilded corridors. They fucking announced you at the door, as though your own family didn’t know your name.

“Oh, Y/N,” your mother cried out while she ran to you, gripping you into a tight hug. Her wheezing sobs had you shushing and soothing her until you pulled away with a strained smile and empty words, finding your seat next to Kat. 

Uncle Cedrick sat at the head of the table, with your mom and sister on either side, lording over the little family he owned. He smirked at your mom while she settled beside him, before playing with you all again. 

“You can’t begin to imagine what you’ve put your mother through all these months, dear niece,” he scolded, slow to pull his gleaming eyes from her to you. “Making her worry all this time, and now you hardly have a word to say?”

“I…” 

I’m out of fucking practice. It’s time for the less fun kind of pretend.

Forever.

“I’m just so glad you’re home safe, sweetie,” Mom crooned, still dabbing at her eyes, though she was already quiet. Uncle Cedrick never did care for crying in any of his massive homes, even though he enjoyed the lead up so very much.

“It’s just as the doctor warned, Delaine,” your uncle cautioned, smiling at you over his latte. “Your daughter isn’t well. We should always be prepared for this sort of selfish behavior.”

“Can we not? I haven’t even finished my coffee yet,” Kat sneered while she grabbed a piece of toast. She spread the jam thinly, yet evenly, over the bread how you liked, before forcing it into your hand, glaring until you took a bite. 

Don’t cry. 

Eating when you were upset was hard, the heavy emotions seeming to take over your body. You never wanted to be weak, so you made sure to eat enough, even when your appetite was gone, but sometimes a reminder helped. 

Your sister had always been your reminder. 

“Thank you,” you breathed before giving Delaine Sylvad your full attention. “I’m sorry I put you through so much, mom. I–”

“Y/N, I’m more concerned about what you put yourself through,” she began, that familiar tone of a ‘disappointed Mom scolding,’ about to play out. “I know you’ve always run from your blessings, but to put yourself in harm’s way like that? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“She’s perfectly fine,” Uncle Cedrick cut you off, patting her shoulder. “Our little Y/N seemed to have charmed those filthy pirates. I can’t imagine how.”

“Apologies for the interruption sir.”

A practically quivering servant had stepped up beside him, and your uncle just stared, a maniacal tilt to his head while he watched the man sweat. 

“I’m so sorry to intrude, sir. However, you've received a call. It’s one of the names on your priority list–”

“Are they still connected,” Uncle asked, already pushing away from his half eaten breakfast to follow the servant out of the room. He didn’t say goodbye, except to poke his head back through the door before leaving. “Delaine, I expect you’ll get your daughter prepared for polite society? Gods know you’ll have your work cut out for you.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🔴🤡🐊~~~

The whole concept of marriage is fucking stupid. Just another shackle the World Government tries to tie us all down with. 

Gotta keep the shidiots all bored, and struggling to pay rent for the shoeboxes they’re allowed to fuck their legally recognized, orgasm partners in, otherwise they might have too much fucking fun. 

And too much fun usually means hopping on a pirate, or their ship. Whichever gives the better ride. 

Buggy almost made himself laugh with his internal rant, but Shanks’ confidence, and the almost nauseating amount of beauty on that earnest face, sobered the clown. No matter how hard he tried, his mind refused to stop blaring those words. 

Marry her. Marry her? He’s gonna marry her. She’s gonna marry… My star wouldn’t want... It’s just pretend. Doesn’t matter. Marriage is pointless anyway, it doesn't mean anything. 

He gave his old friend a weak smile, lost in those faint, faraway sounds. She was so quiet, yet he could hear endless shuffling, the soft sounds of moving fabric, drawers opening and closing, and that anxious heartbeat. 

The clown wanted to ignore his own feelings until he got her out. He wanted to be her hero, and nothing else. 

The red haired pirate had stolen one of his hands, that overwhelming charm spilling out while he pressed warm lips to gloved fingers. Buggy couldn’t stop the poison from filling his gut, and climbing up his throat like bile. 

Shanks is the hero, not me. 

Familiar jealousy turned rancid after all these years as it mixed with all the fear and guilt for the heartbeat in his head. 

“If you marry my star, I’ll fucking skin you,” he whispered, trying not to break apart and float away. 

“Buggy.” Shanks’ voice came out sweet and shocked, his face softening while he watched his lover struggle. “I fucked up, Bugs. I hurt you, and I hurt Y/N. Please, let me help her. It’s your call, alright?”

Old pain had poured into new wounds, but as the clown counted to ten, he remembered her smile. 

You love me, don’t you, star? I’m sorry, baby. I almost forgot. 

“Don’t fuck it up, idiot,” Buggy ordered, the gleam in his eyes making Shanks’ breath catch. He almost sobbed with relief when his clown accepted his warmth, his touch, his kiss. 

Crocodile and Mihawk had already climbed into bed, sitting up against the headboard while they re-read the pile of notes, although the view had distracted them both. Mihawk curled up against that massive chest, the two villains watching their clown kiss the hero. 

“Why don’t we get some rest,” Crocodile rasped, setting the rumpled pages on the nightstand. “Now that we have something we can fucking do tomorrow, we should get our heads right.”

“Come on, baby,” Shanks hummed. The effort it took to pull away from that kiss left him shaky, but he couldn’t be selfish again, not if he was going to get her back. “Gotta keep your strength up for her.”

Buggy let himself be dragged toward the bed, let Shanks help him undress, settling under the covers. Soothing hands, soothing whispers, too much. 

“She’s still awake,” he breathed. Mihawk turned to ice against his chest, the room once again filling with the unspoken demands to share her every moment. The clown groaned, fighting not to break into pieces to escape the comfort of that massive bed. 

It shouldn’t have felt comfortable without her warmth beside him. 

“I can’t sleep yet, what if she–” 

“Bugs?”

I know that breathing.

The clown couldn’t keep track of the barrage of emotions those tiny sounds burned him with. She was so muffled, so quiet. So fucking perfect.

But she didn’t know he was listening. 

“What’s wrong,” Mihawk demanded softly, this helplessness making him sick.

“I…” Buggy was dizzy with need and guilt, disgusted with how eager his body was for his star in her lonely prison.

“Buggy,” Crocodile breathed, violence seeping through his skin. “Tell us what’s happening.”

It’s wrong. I won’t use her. Won't hurt her. Can’t–

‘Buggy…’

“Star,” he cried out, reacting to her strangled moan as though it were his body bringing that beautiful sound from her lips. His back arched almost painfully, eyes rolling white, as need pulsed through his veins. He was achingly hard, and so fucking ready to take care of her, to give her what she needed. “Fuck, baby…”

Then he let out a frustrated sob, covering his face with his hands while his other lovers reached for him. 

“What’s–”

“I believe our little rabbit is taking care of herself,” Mihawk whispered, soothing the larger man’s growing anger, leaving silver eyes to blink slowly at their little clown. 

“She’s so quiet,” Buggy trembled, his lips and jaw tensing while he swallowed the heat in his throat. “She’s all alone. I shouldn’t be–”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Shanks rasped, breathing along Buggy’s neck while he pulled his clown against him. “You’re gonna save her. She said your name, didn’t she, Bugs?”

“B-but she doesn’t…”

“Breathe, little clown,” Crocodile’s deep voice washed over Buggy while his large fingers brushed the hair from his face. 

Mihawk rested his cheek against Buggy’s chest, feeling the rhythm of that frantic heart against his skin while he fought not to pull closer, to reach for the need he knew he’d find. 

“It’s not right.”

“I know, Bugs,” Shanks purred, slipping into the voice that Buggy could never resist, and just the sound of it brought a little whine from the clown’s throat. “You’ll say sorry after you save her, alright? But she just said your name. Your pretty star still wants to please you, Buggy. Remember when she said that? When I made her come on my fingers, but she only had eyes for you? She’s so good for you, huh, baby?”

“F-fuck,” Buggy gasped, finally gripping his swollen cock while he listened to Y/N’s lovely breath. 

I’ve got you, star. I’ll help you. I’ll make you feel…

He almost lost himself in it, until the sound of the nightstand drawer closing brought him back to reality. That lovely breath was far away from him, trapped in a cage. 

“She craves you, Buggy,” Mihawk hummed. The swordsman pressed soft kisses against Buggy’s chest while he rolled onto his back, gasping when that sharp tongue teased around his nipples. The clown opened his mouth, but whatever he might have said faded away when Shanks grabbed his hand, making him fist his own cock again while hushed praises filled the air. 

“Our sweet girl said no one can make her feel the way you can,” Crocodile rasped, tossing an extra towel to the other side of the bed. He spread his legs a bit, massaging his balls before slowly dragging his fingers up and down his length while he remembered that pretty show, and the mess he’d left on her perfect face. “Why don’t you tell us how you’re gonna take care of her when you bring her home?”

“What,” the clown choked out. Opening his eyes was almost as overwhelming as the distant, needy sounds he was hearing. Three, dangerous lovers watched him while they held themselves, gorgeous, heavy cocks freed to the air. “What are you doing?”

“She needs you, Bugs,” Shanks smirked, scraping his bottom lip through his teeth at the delicious sight before him. “That means you need to take care of yourself, alright? Now, do you wanna tell us how you’re gonna make your star come, or do you want one of us to guess?”

Y/N had paused a few times, muffled breaths slowing before her heart fought for relief. Buggy had to get to her, to save her from that shitty, suffocating life. Had to make his star laugh, and smile, and scream, until she was the last fucking star in the sky. 

“Sh-she’s so sweet,” Buggy groaned, a collective sigh filling the air as his consent let them all give in. “Gonna suck her clit like candy. Her pretty thighs squeeze my head so fucking hard when I do that.”

“Fuck,” Mihawk rasped. His mind’s eye made the vision so clear that he begged for more. “What next?”

Buggy caught those wild, golden eyes, and Y/N’s needy moans set him free. 

“Then you’re gonna hold her down for me, and choke her while I fuck her with my tongue. She tastes even sweeter the deeper you get.”

“You fuck our girl so well, little clown,” Crocodile purred over Mihawk’s desperate whine, gifting Buggy with a hungry smile, “and she loves watching you get fucked. Her sweet, little pussy squeezed my cock so fucking hard when you let this one tear you open.”

Buggy and Mihawk twitched while delicious memories on this giant bed tore through them.

“She’s close,” he shivered, chills rolling with pleasure across his body. “She’s fucking perfect. I don’t care where we are, when I save my girl, I’m gonna fuck her into the ground, gonna make her pretty eyes cross, gonna fuck– fuuuck… Gods, star…”

Each of these men found their pleasure in their own hands, yet the sounds and memories of each other were so good that they almost went too far, but she was always there.

Messy, noisy relief was found as four, sticky men kissed the taste of sweat from each other's skin before towels were passed around. Yet, the relaxation those blissful moments brought was tainted by her absence.

Y/N's men fell asleep in each other’s arms, but knew that they’d never truly relax again. Not until their numbers girl was curled up between them.

~~~🗡️🔴🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

“Mom, please.”

“It’s just dinner, sweetie."

“I don’t want to have dinner with another creep,” you spat, pulling away from her fingers while she toyed with your hair. 

A familiar rage burned through you, that you were learning fast how to swallow down. 

But not fast enough. 

“They’re not all creeps,” Mom sighed, and her voice was still like nails on a chalkboard against the overwhelm inside you since Dad… since your world changed. “That’s why I'm helping you with this, honey. I’m helping you look for a husband that will treat you well, so you can be taken care of.”

“I’m sixteen,” you fumed, disgust making you snarl at her. “I don’t want to live your boring life. It’s not my fault that dad never loved you guys, so why don't—“

A soft, wounded noise snapped your attention to the open doorway, your little sister’s wide eyes going watery. Shame doused your rage faster than a tub of ice water. 

You ran, chasing her dainty steps through the hall until she ducked into a spare room, and you caught the door with your foot before it could slam shut. 

“I’m so sorry, Kat, I didn’t mean it!” Self loathing dragged you down, fighting between panic at the pain in your little sister’s eyes, and the nausea that your selfishness had stirred up. 

“Don’t lie,” she quivered, clearly holding in her sobs to keep that fierce look on her face. “And I don’t want you to marry one of those jerks either.”

“Thank you,” you choked out a laugh after you closed the door, plopping down in front of her. She joined you on the floor, sad sisters hiding in another darkened room. “We don’t need to live like mom, okay? There’s a whole other world out there. No more leeches.”

Kat snorted at your favorite nickname for them. It became more disgustingly accurate the more time you spent with those so-called suitors, and their pushy families.

At least there was one other person in your world that saw them for what they were, but she sighed again, her hands going limp in yours.

“Dad did love you though,” Kat breathed. The words crushed your heart, and that cruel truth was a stain that could never be wiped clean. “Maybe someone else will love you too…”

Exhaustion ate at you, no more energy to try to shape the world the way you needed it to be. 

“Maybe. I don’t know who could love an annoying sister like me though.”

“Shut up,” she scoffed, wrinkling her nose at you. You fell into being a sister again, and the desire to make things a little better for her sake woke you up. “Besides, if you don’t like your date, you can just bore him with math problems, or break his ankle when you dance, or—“

“Hey,” you laughed, trapping her arms in a struggling hug. “Speaking of math problems, don’t you have that test coming up?”

“Ugh, you’re so lame,” she teased, crawling out from your grasp to open the door, blinding you with the light from the hallway. “Come on. I’ll read you my practice test while mom does your hair, but only if you promise not to chew her face off.”

“Seems like a shit deal to me,” you smirked as you followed her out, chuckling at her panicked search for any ears that could have heard you speak so foul on such a lovely day. 

“There you are, sweetie,” Mom hummed when you returned, with Kat already rattling off word problems at your side. You let her guide you, sitting you down in front of the vanity, while all of your edges went fuzzy.

Mom’s careful touch always made you look like a perfect, doll-like version of yourself before sending you out on a date.

Not really a date. More like a test drive for the hopeful buyer. 

Your eyes got lost in the mirror, the image of a perfect doll reminding you of pretty boxes, all wrapped up. 

“Unboxed,” a feral voice giggled, but you couldn’t pull yourself all the way back into the room to acknowledge the tension on their faces. All you could do was slump into the chair, mumbling about your pros and cons. 

“Sis,” Kat whispered, and the part of you that was still aware floated above your shoulder, screaming at you to stop, to not let her see.

“Kat, go tell Oliver to fetch your sister’s tea, please.”

“But—“

“Gotta buy the doll before you take her out of the box.”

Your head lolled back with laughter now, missing some of the real world. 

“Mom, why can’t she wait? It’s only been—“

“She’ll be fine, angel. Your sister just needs help. Don’t worry—“

“Don’t worry,” you cackled while you rubbed your hands over your face, smearing lipstick down your chin. "It’s just dolls! Just pretend. Just a brokendollbrokendoll. But mom’s got glue!”

Kat had more tears flowing down her cheeks, but you couldn’t stop yourself, until your mother’s soothing voice pierced through your heart.

“Y/N, sweetie. You’re not feeling well. Do I need to call for the doctor?”

You hadn’t come back, and you hadn’t gotten better, but you had gone quiet and still.

The way dolls are supposed to be.

The only movement you could manage was the slow, shallow breathing that kept you alive, until your mom brought spoonfuls of lukewarm tea to pour over your tongue, your body choosing to swallow.  

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” Mom whispered while she cleaned up the mess you’d made of your face. “I just want you to be alright. Please, let me help you.”

A soft whine left your throat once you were able to look around, realizing that you’d missed when Kat had left. 

“None of this is your fault,” Mom soothed, kissing your temple before laying a fresh coat of makeup on your skin. “But you’re not well, honey. You need to let people take care of you.”

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Shouldn’t I pick a spouse before I pick a dress,” you drawled, tracing your fingers over the rack of perfectly tailored wedding dresses your mom had ordered to be wheeled in. 

Mom had declared that the suite across the hall from yours and Kat’s was to be wedding prep central, presumably so she could snatch you out of bed at a moment’s notice for whatever life altering decision was next on the list. 

“I’d adore that, honey,” she frowned, holding up another pale shade of fabric against your skin. “I hope you’ll be taking your future seriously this time. I’m sure that we can find a good match for you. There’s a variety of suitors—”

Kat snorted, stepping out to spin in a gorgeous, bridesmaid dress. 

“Your ‘husband catalog’ is on the dresser if you want to start there.”

“Can I have a drink first,” you joked, only breaking your heart a little bit more. 

The pause surprised you, especially when Mom’s warm hand cupped your cheek.

“Why don't I order us some mimosas? This doesn’t have to be a chore, sweetie.”

“I… okay,” you breathed, wishing you could take all the comfort her voice promised, but it had been too long for that. Still, you were here. It was over. 

“Come on, nerd,” Kat ordered after slipping out of the dress, and into a monogrammed robe to match yours, in an elegant shade of green, of course. “Let’s make some bar graphs, or would pie charts be better to rank the hottest hubby?”

“Shut up— what the fuck,” you gave a real laugh before picking up the heavy binder, flashing your eyes toward your mom while she walked toward the door. “How many suitors do I have?”

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” she laughed, pausing to open the door and order drinks. A proud smile pulled at her lips when she joined you and Kat on the large couch, taking the binder from you. “It’s heavy because I gathered as much information as I could. You do have a lot to choose from though, plus there might be…”

Kat mirrored your exasperated look when Mom trailed off, and you cracked a smile. 

At least I have Kat.

“There might be what,” Kat asked while you tried to hang onto as much lightness as you could. 

“We have so much to take care of.” Mom shook her head, trailing her fingers over your book of buyers. “The banquet’s in two days, you'll be meeting most of your suitors then, although there might be a few newcomers that I haven’t had the chance to add to your list yet. They’ll all be spending time here, and most will be staying at the estate during the…”

You didn’t need to ask about her pause, as she cleared her throat, nodding at the violence in your eyes.

“It’s supposed to be fun, dear, it’s—“

Apparently you did need to ask.

“During the what, mom,” you waited, wishing the mimosas would hurry the fuck up. 

“The games, sweetie,” she simpered, the words sinking in too slow. “Since they’re all here to compete for your hand, that makes it a game, doesn’t it? You have a month to pick your match, and they’ll—“

“Take turns playing with Uncle’s, little doll,” you spat, ripping the stupid binder from her careful fingers. “I’d like a break from you, mom. Kat will make sure I look for my new owner.”

“Sweetie, I don’t think—“

“You know, I still have to decide, right,” you purred, sick pleasure pouring through you while you threatened your mother. “You don’t get your inheritance unless I become the heir, and decide to release it to you. So why don’t you go get me my fucking drink, and then go back to following Uncle around like a trained dog. His favorite, little bitch still wants her own berry, don’t you, mom?”

Kat had gone still beside you, but said nothing, Mom’s gaze flicking uselessly between you. 

“Y/N, I—“

“Sorry, Mom! You know how brides get,” you laughed, wicked and wrong. “Uncle ordered you to get me ready, so why don’t you fetch me my drink, and get the fuck out of my sight so I can focus? Maybe there’s someone else’s daughter you can whore out with all of your free time?”

She was shaking, but your mother was too good at pretending for you to read all of the emotions behind her wide, calculating eyes. 

Mom stood gracefully, and almost made it to the door, before freezing at your icy voice. 

“You know, mom, all these wedding jitters have been making me nervous. I’d feel a lot calmer if you tasted everything for me.”

“What are you—“ 

Delaine Sylvad turned to look over her shoulder, with not a drop of motherly concern on her face.

“I won’t be eating or drinking anything for the next month unless I watch you taste it first. You do want me to cooperate, right, mom?”

She nodded, but you looked down at the binder, flipping through the pages for a moment before glancing back up. 

“Move along now. The bride is thirsty,” you dismissed with a wave of your hand. Your guilt was drowning under the sick satisfaction you felt at making that pretend smile leave the room. 

“Sis…”

“I’m sorry, Kat,” you sighed, wishing you could have enjoyed your villainy without forcing her to see it. 

“Don’t be,” she assured, scooting closer to look over the first dossier with you. “Mom deserved that.”

You couldn’t say 'thank you,' so you just leaned against her while your throat went hot, clearing the mist from your eyes before you could study the picture of the first potential husband. 

“Hey, he’s cute,” Kat praised, snagging a notebook and pen from the coffee table. “Should we rank them on hotness first?”

“What are you talking about,” you snorted, pulling the image closer. “Look at his clothes! And what’s with his hair? He looks ridiculous!”

“Says the girl that fucked a clown— Oh my gods, I’m so sorry, Y/N! I shouldn’t have said that!”

“No, it’s okay,” you laughed, fidgeting with that heavy locket. 

The bittersweet pain almost felt good, and you tried not to let the fact that he could still make you laugh make you cry. 

“This guy’s got nothing on Buggy’s style though.”

“I missed you,” Kat confessed after joining your much needed giggles.

“I missed you too, sis. Help me find the least shitty leech?” 

“No settling,” she ordered, thumping her fist on the heavy pages. “There has to be at least one Prince Charming in this giant book.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Flipping through the pages left you feeling empty, but not as horribly, painfully empty as you could have been in this calm moment. 

“Mom said there might be more, too,” Kat soothed, that awkward lilt to her voice showing how hard she was trying to stay light for you. “Maybe your Prince Charming just isn’t on the guest list yet.”

The names you wanted to appear on that list echoed through your mind, and you had to hold your breath to stop the fantasies that would only make this harder. 

“Two days until the banquet… let’s make some graphs.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“Good morning, Shanks. I didn’t expect pirates to be working so early.”

“Come on, Cedrick. Who said anything about working,” Shanks purred, propping his feet up on Mihawk’s desk. The lounge was empty, but he could practically feel those listening ears. “I’m just looking to make some fashionable friends, remember?”

The pleased laughter through the snail almost made Shanks gag. Buggy’s notes, and rage, and the emptiness in Y/N’s eyes, left this Emperor of the Sea almost paralyzed with guilt and disgust.

He had to get over it. Play the villain.

For her.

“I have to say, you have impeccable timing.”

“How’s that,” Shanks asked, his body tensing with anxiety, fighting to keep his voice loose.

“I’m holding an event in a couple of days,” Cedrick drawled, a rhythmic sound coming through the call, as though his fingers were tapping close to the snail. “It’ll be discreet, just a gathering of worthy friends. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the festivities, and we’ll have plenty of time to discuss what our friendship might entail… I’d be happy to host you if you can make it in time.”

“What’s the dress code? I’d hate to stand out—“

“I’m sure my tailors could whip something up for you,” he chuckled, both of their voices mixing like sweet, heavy cream. “What do you say, Shanks? Should I add you to the guest list?”

The red haired pirate couldn’t remember feeling this panicked. 

He couldn’t seem too eager. Couldn’t risk him thinking he was too connected to the Cross Guild.

He couldn’t fuck this up.

“It’s in a couple of days, you said,” Shanks risked a muffled yawn. “That’s pretty last minute.”

“True,” Cedrick agreed lightly. 

He gets everything he wants. 

“But there’ll be booze,” Shanks teased, his voice promising things he never wanted to keep. 

“But, of course,” Cedrick scoffed, sickly, sweet triumph in his words. “I treat my friends very well.”

“Looking forward to it,” the Emperor lied, grabbing a pen. “Where can I find you, friend?”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🔴🗡️~~~

Convincing the other men to give him privacy for the call took some doing, but given how raw everyone’s nerves were, Shanks was grateful they’d let him be. Mostly, he was just grateful that he’d succeeded. 

“Where’s Buggy,” he frowned, charging back into the suite with multiple copies of Sylvad’s coordinates stuffed into his wrinkly pockets. 

“Listening,” Mihawk sighed, nodding his head toward the door, toward the cat’s room across the hall he’d been holed up in. “Y/N's mother is preparing her for suitors today. Apparently, she’ll be meeting them all at a banquet in two days.”

“That’s—“

“Yes, excellent flirting,” the swordsman teased, his dangerous eyes too focused on their task to tear the man into delicious little pieces. “Now you just need to convince him that you’ll be the best nephew in law he could ever hope for.”

“You’re not in the race yet,” Crocodile reminded while he rubbed his palm over his face, blinking away the start of a headache. “We don’t know why he invited you. You can’t let on that you know anything about the wedding, or the will, or—“

“I know,” Shanks nodded, plopping into an armchair, “but something’s been bothering me…”

The other men raised eyebrows, but looked back at the fresh notes, new batches that Buggy kept tossing into the hall. 

“Clearly he’s forcing her to marry someone that’ll cut him a good deal, but as soon as she marries, won’t she take over Sylvad’s as the heir," Shanks mused, tapping the pad of his thumb against his knee, frowning deeper with every new thought. "And her husband will get his own piece too, right? So why is Cedrick pushing for this? Isn’t he running the company now?”

“I don’t see Sylvad as the type of man to enjoy working under another person’s name,” Mihawk sneered into his espresso. 

“If he is about to lose control of Sylvad’s, then he’ll be looking for a hell of a deal to make up for it,” Crocodile growled.

He needed to get some of this violence out soon. 

“Exactly,” Shanks agreed while he leaned toward them, dropping the coordinates onto the table. “What the fuck do I have to offer that could compete with that?”

...

“Our girl didn’t act like she was off to lead an empire.”

Crocodile’s own voice was too much for him to listen to, so he let himself pace, this large suite still too small for him. 

Buggy’s laughter through the hall had all three men tensing for danger, then just pausing to listen. 

“Notes!”

Mihawk skirted around Crocodile’s pacing form to gather up the next pile of crumpled paper from the corridor. The golden eyed man let out what might have been a snort, handing the top page to Shanks before spreading them out on the table. 

“I believe this one’s for you.”

~~~

PrinceCharming?? 

She really thinks there’s gonna

be a "Prince Charming" in

this group of ASSHOLES??!! 

               Oh Yeah!! ! 

Our ASSHOLE CHARMER!  

You’ve got a hole month.

A Game? You can stay & play, and my star will fucking Kill it.  maybe kill you, my babys so

My baby's got such

good style!!

✩

You MIGHT stand a chance.

~~~

~~~

“He seems to be in better spirits,” Shanks smiled, resisting the urge to go shower Buggy with affection, to make him laugh again. 

“It sounds like our sweet girl showed her fangs today,” Crocodile purred. The thought of her fighting her battles alone was unacceptable, but Buggy’s messy note praising her vicious words filled him with a pride he needed to do something with, especially since he didn’t know what had happened yet. 

“She’s afraid they’ll drug her food,” Mihawk reported, letting the larger man steal that particular note from his long fingers while they shook with rage. “My little bloodhound just coerced her own mother to be her poison tester.”

“What the…” 

“All these worthless leeches will be fucking foie gras when I’m done with ‘em,” Crocodile cut in, rage practically burning the air around him. “Think they can use her, scare my sweet girl, TOUCH MY—“

“Tell me how to play the villain.”

Shanks stood between Crocodile and the patch of wall he’d been about to smash, as calm as a mountain against a storm of sand.

Mihawk held his breath while he waited for these larger than life men to wake up from their spell, and for whatever havoc they might wreak.

“So, the prettyboy needs a lesson from the monster, huh,” Crocodile finally let out a breath, still resisting the urge to punch the smirk off of that pretty face. 

“I believe ‘Prince Charming,’ was the title,” Shanks laughed, relaxing when the veins on the ex-Warlord’s forehead started to shrink.

“Not according to our lovely clown,” Mihawk teased. He wasn’t sure what to do with the sight of his two daddy’s getting along, but he tried not to get distracted. Didn’t try hard enough. “You are our lovely ‘asshole charmer,’ remember?”

Something about the way his little prince could say such wicked, filthy things with such a straight face made Crocodile want to fucking squeeze him. Shanks joined him in surrounding their lovely swordsman, enjoying the laughter he and Buggy had drawn out, before reality crawled back into the room. 

“This’ll need to be a short lesson,” Shanks warned. He smoothed out one of his notes with his fingers, tapping on the numbers that would lead him to their girl.

The Emperor of the Sea had his goal, and he knew where to go, yet this mission was unlike any he’d carried out before. How could he convince this rich piece of shit that he could offer him the best deal to marry his niece? What would his competition be offering up? 

Shanks frowned at his wrinkly pants, hoping that he could lie, that he could pretend to be whatever level of asshole needed to get her out of there. 

“How much time do we have,” Crocodile growled, eyeing the coordinates Shanks had smoothed out on the table.

"I should head out after lunch."

"For fuck's sake," the ex-Warlord laughed, wrapping his arm around Mihawk's shoulders before eyeing the prettyboy again. "Let's get started."

~~~🐊🔴🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Adam was good company, but Buggy had to spend half the time writing his notes while floating against the wall or ceiling, since the cat went wild for the pen while frantic words covered the pages. 

He quickly learned that if he didn’t tie up his hair, then his back and thighs would be sitting targets for sneak attacks. Those tiny daggers couldn’t pierce his skin, but he didn’t want to let out another embarrassing yelp like he had during the last ambush. So, the clown’s spare pens were shoved into the thick bun on the top of his head, and the more it came undone, the more the value of Adam’s company was called into question. 

But then the cat would curl up beside him, and make cute, little twitchy faces while he slept. 

“Shithead,” he breathed, scratching behind those furry ears while he waited for the Sylvad sisters to stop giggling, although he wished he could listen to that sound all fucking day. 

The way her heart celebrated every time she made her bitch of a mother chug half of her drinks before accepting them made the clown itch to join her. 

“I’ve got you, star,” he promised, picturing all the lovely, gruesome scenes. “We’re gonna make ‘em all pay.”

“This guy seems alright,” Kat approved, her voice close to his ear while they went through the binder together. “But boring, so…”

“I think that’s okay,” Y/N sighed, and something about her voice set Buggy on edge. “I wanted to escape. I was tired of being bored while I avoided all of this, but…”

“But what,” Kat asked, soft, waiting. 

“It’s time for me to grow up,” his star declared, somehow sounding further away. “What if I already turned away a decent life because I didn’t want to be bored? Because I wanted…” 

“Sis?”

“It’s over. There might not be a 'Prince Charming' in here,” she gave a cold laugh, a light knocking coming through before the sound of pages flipping, “but mom’s right about one thing. I need to take my future seriously. I have to marry one of these creeps, otherwise– I am marrying one of these creeps. And boring isn’t the worst trait a husband could have.”

No, star, you’re not gonna–

“Would it be weird for me to say, ‘you go, girl?”

“So fucking weird,” Y/N laughed, groaning as their breath moved together. The sound of her hug seemed like a strange thing to recognize. 

“Too bad there’s no measurements. I bet you wouldn’t mind a boring hubby with a monster cock.”

Y/N choked until Kat thumped her on the back a few times, while Buggy couldn’t decide if he wanted to hug or throttle her little sister for making her laugh, for helping her drift away.

“Pros and cons,” his star laughed when she could breathe again. Guilt ripped through Buggy when he realized that he felt closer to his love when she was falling apart. He needed her to be alright, needed her to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him.

But he had to hear it.

The clown had to listen to her steady voice, and feel the warmth of her laughter, while she decided to move on.

I’m coming for you, baby.

“Let’s find me a husband.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

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

Author's Note: Y'all... what have I gotten myself into?? 😅 Anywho, any guesses on the suitors? I've got my list and my outline, and I'm going BONKERS. I will say, I have a sometimes restrictive urge to keep things as close to canon compliance/possibility as I can, but I'm still super excited about our guest list 🤭

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki | @mikisspeak | @djloveyou3000 | @mercymccann | @horse-and-writer97

Part 31

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.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[fourstarsoutofnine]

Psst hey..

*slides over request*

Four with a s/o who always manages to injure themselves.

Going for a walk? Scraped knee.

Hunting? Managed to stab self in the hand.

Now imagine an actual fight... Oh dear, what could go wrong?

A/n:this Ask had me cracking up fr—bc I’m like this. I always end up with random bruises, i fell the other day and got one of those carpet burns bc I was trying to scare my dad by hiding in a box and when I stood I fell onto the carpet😭 so I feel this one 100%. My dear anon, so much could go wrong…. I cranked this out in one go, this one was freaking awesome to write!😈 enjoy!

Four with a clumsy s/o!(hurt/comfort. Major angst.)

Warnings:mentions of injuries(scrapes, typical violence and wounds, hunting knife stab), depictions of the traveler removing a knife from your hand. You and four have a fight. Helicopter boyfriend Four.

First hurt/comfort/angst fic! Let’s see how this goes! It’s longer than usual; i got carried away and had a whole lot of fun writing it. Also the definition of the phrase “goose egg” is a bump on the head

You’ve no doubt heard the term helicopter parent. Those parents who hover over their child’s every action, checking behind them to make sure something is either done right or done safely. That’s the smith, with you—only he’s your boyfriend, and you’re just incredibly clumsy, much to your own dismay. You do your best, you truly do, but despite being the charm on this chain of links—you’re not the lucky one. Not by a long shot.

You always manage to get yourself in the most peculiar of predicaments by doing even the slightest of things. Despite watching where you’re going as you all travel, you somehow manage to fall every single time. You scrape your knees, your elbows—heck, when you first joined, the chain was curious about if you were a Link yourself, or at least a hero of sorts with how many scars you have. You had to explain to them that no, you were just ordinary, but very, very clumsy.

When you and the smith began ‘courting,’ as he calls it, he wasn’t all too overprotective. Sure he worried about you, but he wasn’t overbearing. He just hated seeing you hurt. He’d help you with minor wounds, putting bandages on it and you had to insist that no, you didn’t need the traveler’s magic to heal you. You were fine. It was hard to convince him of that, but eventually he got it through.

Now, when you went hunting.. That was another story.

You and the champion went hunting for stags in his Hyrule, and it seemed he knew where every incredible spot to hunt was. As if he had a map of Hyrule memorized—he didn’t even have it marked on his slate. You were around upper Zora’s Domain, where it seemed tons of stags were. He shot one with a bow and nailed it, the both of you whooping and hollering with wide smiles. He shieldsurfed down and you ran after, yelling curses at him still with a smile, as you weren’t truly mad at all, just being playful. You got to the fallen stag and knelt by it.

“You know how to clean it, don’t you?” The champion asked.

“Yeah, yeah! You just—“ you went to begin but miss and hit your hand instead. You gasp, eyes filling with tears.

“Hylia!!” The Champion shouted and lifted you, completely abandoning the provisions. He’d come back for them later, you were top priority always. Oh by the three, the smith was gonna have his head on a stick… he took out his slate and teleported the both of you to the domain, where the others were waiting. He ran up the stairs and to the little inn, where sidon had taken to entertaining the chain with the story of how he helped the champion conquer Vah Ruta.

“Traveler!!” He shouted. Everyone looked up, the traveler’s head snatching up at his nickname. They saw him place you down. You were holding your hand carefully, blood dripping onto the wet floor of the domain, mixing with the natural water there. You were sobbing as quietly as you could. His eyes went wide and he ran up, the smith doing the same not even a millisecond after him.

“Y/n?! What happened?! How did—“ the smith started bombarding you with questions

“Smith i Need you To back up—“ the traveler put his arm out to keep him back as to not further overwhelm

“That’s my partner! I can’t back up!!”

“You will try.” He turned to him. “They are overwhelmed and in a large amount of pain. The last thing they need is for you to overwhelm them further by shouting questions in their face. I’m trying to heal them; it won’t take too long, now please step back and wait quietly.” He turned again and took your hand into his. The champion put his arms around you gently to support your weight in case your knees buckled during the removal of the knife. “Okay,” the traveler started. He turned his head and pointed. “I need that wooden spoon please.”

The vet got it for him, the traveler thanking him and turning to you again. “Bite this.” He said and held it out to you. You bit down and he let go.

“Im Going to count to three. This isn’t going to feel good at all, but as soon as it’s out, I’ll heal you and it’ll be over before you know it. Pain is only temporary… one… two… three.” He said and pulled the knife out of your hand. You bit down harder and cried. The smith couldn’t take it. He held his mouth, tears welling in his eyes, the color of them changed rapidly between blue, green, violet and red over and over. Not a single color knew how to handle this—but vio took over and took him away from the scene, over to the vet, who let the smith hug him tight. They both had seen countless unimaginable horrors, but this was hard to watch. However as the traveler said, it was over in a matter of seconds and his magic took hold of your hand, the muscle and tissue reforming and a scar in the shape of a slit was formed, brighter than the skin around it. Your sob slowed into small hics as you dropped the spoon from your mouth and looked over your hand, flipping it from the back to the palm. You pulled the traveler in and hugged him tight.

“Thank you, traveler…”

“Of course..” he hugged you back in tight, warm hug. He wore a sad smile. “I’m just relieved you’re alright now…”

The smith came up beside the two of you silently, tears in his eyes. You turned and yanked him into a hug. He sniffled and hugged you back. “Please be more careful, dove…” he cried with a wavering voice. “Please. You worry me more than anything in any universe. I don’t know what I’d do if something even worse happened to you. I’d be sick, and completely beside myself…”

“Im sorry, Link…” you replied quietly near his ear. “I just wanted to help the champion, but I guess I should’ve let him handle the knife as well and I—“

“It’s okay.. It’s okay… I’m just so glad you’re no longer hurt…” he pulled up the newly scarred hand and kissed both sides of your hand, right where the scars are. It melted you and you smiled, leaning down to kiss his forehead. It was a sweet sentiment, but that event sent him into overdrive. He became a helicopter—not that any of you really knew what that was. I suppose you could call him a backpack boyfriend if you wanted to fit the times more. Put simply, he hovered over you like every move you’d make would cause something, which was a drastic over exaggeration, even for you. He stuck by your side constantly, and in moments he couldn’t, he made the traveler watch over you, which he did with a quiet apology after seeing how upset you were at the notion. This went on for a while before you decided you’d had it. You were not some toddler that needed to be constantly monitored. Today, you’d lead him away and speak to him in private. At camp, you were braiding some vines together to make a little basket and the smith was sitting beside you, watching with interest.

“…Link…” you said quietly without tearing your eyes away from your work.

“Yes, my dove?” He leaned over on your shoulder, smiling softly as he watched you. You set your basket-in-progress down between your stretched out legs. “I need to talk to you about something.” You notice the other Links’ ears perk up and their heads turn slightly to try to inconspicuously eavesdrop. “..alone..” you said quietly and stood. He agreed with a concerned and confused look on his face as he followed you, pointing out every little branch and rock in your way. That was the final straw. “I am not a TODDLER, LINK!” You snapped and whipped around to him. “I don’t need a constant babysitter!!!”

He looked shocked. Shocked, frightened, and a bit hurt. “I—“

“I know I’m not the most careful person in the world, but am old enough to take care of myself!!! I have before! I was doing it before I met you lot!”

“I—I know, but—“

“Then stop sheltering me! I can’t live life in a bubble!” You stormed off.

“Y—y/n Wait—“

“Don’t follow me!!” You stomped into the woods, grumbling to yourself. You walked a while, ranting to yourself when you noticed it turning dark. You’d since cleared your head and of course were going to apologize to your boyfriend for yelling at him, and give this thing a nice, healthy talk…. If you could find your way back… you looked to the sky to try to find the smoke from the fire they built, but to your horror.. you saw a bright red moon rising… what was it that the champion said again about his Hyrule? ‘Every week a blood moon rises in my world, resurrecting the slain monsters to allow them to torment Hyrule once again.’

…Oh Sweet Hylia won’t you have mercy just this once..?

You climbed up a tree and saw the smoke signal, lighting up. You climb back down and take off running. However, unfortunately on brand for you, you trip and fall face first into the back of the scariest silver moblin to ever cross paths with you. You heard it’s mighty roar and scramble back, your own back meeting with an adjacent tree. Your only thought before the moblin hit you over the head was an apology to your precious, worried Link. You blacked out. Luckily for you, though, the chain heard the roar as well and came running to your rescue. The smith was freaking out. He scooped you up first without a second thought. His friends could hold their own as a team of eight.

“Smith! You and the traveler take them back to camp and get them well!! We don’t know how long they’ve been knocked out!!”

“Yes sir!!!” Team of seven. The smith and the traveler sprinted back as fast as they carefully could, laying you down and propping your head up on a backpack as the traveler examines your head. No bleeding that he can see, but a very large goose egg on your head. He once again used his magic to heal you as he often did, but he was able to get the swelling to go down. The two waited and waited for you to wake, the traveler saying you needed rest but it shouldn’t be all too long. It was around two hours later that you woke, the rest of the chain had returned and were laughing and telling stories around the fire. The smith stayed by you, his hands holding one of yours. You groaned and sat up.

“Y/n..!” He said quietly.

“Eugh, what happened..? Link..?” Tears welled in your eyes and you pulled him into a hug. “I’m so sorry..! I didn’t mean it—I just—get overwhelmed and snap at people and I’m so sorry! I love you so much—“

You heard him laugh and sniffle. “No.. y/n, I was in the wrong… of course you can take care of yourself. You being upset was warranted by my behavior. I’m not your shadow, I don’t need to always follow your every step just because I’m worried… I’ll back up… watch from behind…” he laughed again, nudging you.

That made you smile. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too.” The two of you shared a kiss and the champion brought bowls over for you two to eat. You both accept them gratefully and sit together, eating. His head lays on your shoulder as he does so. He might be right up on you like your shadow, but in this context you don’t mind. And you certainly don’t mind the love he gives you with each kiss, nor do you mind each butterfly added to your stomach every time he says he loves you…

You were clumsy, but you did one thing right. And that was wind up with him..

[mtap-comics]

Welcome back to my Bad Things Happen Bingo!

Fandom: My time at Portia

Pairing: Arlo x Female Builder

Summary: Elenya takes a hit for Arlo. The latter, of course, is /not/ pleased about this at all.

Word count: 7,389

Prompt: Anger Born of Worry

Author’s note: I'm sorry you had to wait so long again. I had some stressfull weeks which resulted in a really bad writers block, but I finally manged to finish another fill. I hope the length of it makes up a little bit for it, though! :)

There will be a lot of angst in this one, probably the worst of all the works so far, but the ending is as cavity-inducing as you now it from me. :D Please notify your dentist in advance.

Now I won't keep you any longer and wish you a happy reading!

Warnings: Lots of Angst and lots of Fluff, Blood and Injury

Read on AO3: Link

Scars of Sacrifice

Sweat stood on Elenya's forehead. It was the height of summer and together with Arlo and Remi she was standing in front of a tunnel in the middle of the Eufala Desert. A small earthquake in the desert had revealed an old tunnel, and Arlo had immediately ordered that no one was to enter it until the Civil Corps had thoroughly examined it. 

Elenya helped Arlo and Remi on the dangerous expedition, even though she wasn't an official member. She was glad that Arlo, even though they had been married for over a year, still allowed her to help in such matters and trusted her ability to fight. He still worried about her, of course, but he also knew that Elenya was not one to be kept away from adventure.

Trouble always found her, even when she wasn't looking for it.

They had faced many challenges together since they first met in Portia, and their love for each other had only grown stronger through those experiences. Just as this one was about to do.

~~~~~~

The tunnel entrance was ancient and the air inside was thick and musty. It was hard to tell how old the tunnel was. Had it been dug before the Age of Darkness, or had it been dug by the people looking for relics a hundred years ago? They'd probably never know, but it wasn't really important. 

It was more important to make sure that there was no danger coming from this tunnel. Who knew what had been hidden here all these years?

Cautiously and attentively they followed the tunnel, Elenya at Arlo's request slightly behind the two men. And indeed, it wasn't long before they encountered the first giant worms. They shot out of the ground as if from nowhere, but the three of them made quick work of the four cell worms.

After a quick check from Arlo to make sure everyone was OK, they pushed deeper into the tunnel. The air became increasingly stuffy the further they went, and Elenya was glad she had taken one of Dr. Xu's tinctures for her asthma before they left. It was really hard to breathe in here.

For the next 5 minutes they encountered a few individual worms now and then, and so far that seemed to be the biggest threat coming out of the tunnel. But Elenya didn't dare hope that something much worse wasn't waiting for them.

Arlo and Remi were getting nervous as well. Arlo looked back at her more often, as if to make sure she was all right, and each time she tried to smile at him reassuringly. 

Anticipation was building inside her and she couldn't decide if she wanted the inevitable to happen sooner or later. With every step they took, the tension in the air grew.

After a sharp turn, a large cave suddenly opened up in front of them. An unnatural light shone from it and Arlo immediately stopped them with a wave of his hand.

"What...?" Remi started to speak, but Arlo pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him instantly.

"Shh." With a hand signal he told them to listen more closely and Elenya strained to follow his request.

At first she heard nothing, but then... The shuffling of feet and something being dragged across the floor.

It sounded like...

"Miner variants." Remi whispered her thoughts and tightened his grip on his hammer.

"Yes, and at least six of them." Arlo confirmed, his voice barely more than a breath.

Six against three then. That shouldn't be a problem for them. After all the hours she had already spent in Ingall's Mine, these monsters were more than familiar to her.

Still, an unpleasant anxiety spread through her. Her heart began to pound and sweat made her hands slippery. Almost painfully, she gripped the hilt of her sword.

Could they really take on so many at once? What if, for once, they were intelligent enough to lunge at one of them at the same time?

She did not notice how her breathing quickened until familiar blue eyes slid into her vision and instantly a part of her fear vanished. They looked at her with concern and determination, silently telling her that they were in this together, no matter what danger lay ahead. Arlo's unwavering support gave Elenya the strength she needed to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Without exchanging words, they formulated a plan. Arlo motioned for Elenya to take cover behind a large rock formation while he and Remi strategically positioned themselves on the opposite side of the cave entrance. She admired the coordinated movements between the two, a testament to the time they had already fought side by side together.

With a nod of reassurance, Elenya took her position, her heart still pounding, but now with a newfound sense of determination. She knew that Arlo and Remington had her back and she would do everything in her power to protect them as well.

With one last deep breath and a signal from Arlo, the two Civil Corps charged into the room. They surprised the monsters and quickly defeated the first Miner Variant before engaging in a battle with two of them each.

That left one more, which continued to look bewildered between the two fighting groups. This was Elenya's chance. She could always take on one of them.

At first she tried to sneak up on it as quietly as possible, but then she saw it turn its attention to Arlo and lunge at him, so she quickly jumped in between, deflecting the scythe with her sword.

The screech of metal against metal filled the cave as Elenya parried the Miner Variant's attack, pushing back against its immense strength. Her heart raced as she engaged in a fierce dance with the creature, every clash of their weapons echoing through the chamber.

Arlo and Remi were locked in their own battles, the sounds carried over to her. But Elenya couldn't afford to be distracted by their fights. She focused solely on the relentless Miner Variant in front of her, its glowing eyes filled with malicious intent.

She had fought many of these monsters before, but these seemed a little different from the ones in Ingall's Mine. Bigger, paler, and most of all... faster .

With each of her blows and parries, the monster managed to match her every move. It was as if this Miner Variant had an uncanny understanding of her fighting style. Frustration welled up within Elenya, mixing with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She needed an opening, a chance to end this battle.

Suddenly it came - a fleeting weakness in her opponent's defence. Elenya seized the moment, her muscles reacting instinctively as she aimed her strike at the creature's exposed side. But in a blur of motion, the Miner Variant evaded her attack and countered, its scythe arcing towards her chest.

Fear tightened around Elenya's heart as she twisted her body, narrowly avoiding the scythe's deadly arc. The close call sent a shiver down her spine and her senses heightened. She knew she had to think fast, her life depended on it.

Every muscle in her body tensed as she observed the Miner Variant's movements, her mind racing to decipher its patterns. Taking a calculated risk, she went on the offensive, delivering a quick series of blows to the creature's legs. With precise, lightning-fast movements, she tried to impair the creature's mobility. The Miner Variant stumbled, its scythe momentarily off balance, and Elenya saw her opportunity.

She lunged forward, her sword gleaming in the dim light, and struck with all her might. In one swift motion, the blade sliced through the air and found its target, piercing the creature's torso. The Miner Variant let out a guttural roar, its body jerking in pain. Elenya stood, breathless and trembling, as the creature crumpled to the ground, lifeless. 

Her chest heaved, a mixture of relief and exhaustion washing over her. This had been much harder than she was used to.

How had these monsters become so strong down here? There was nothing in here after all.

The clank of a sword snapped her out of her thoughts and she remembered with a start that the fight wasn't over yet. She quickly glanced over at Remi, who had also finished off one of his opponents and was still busy with the second, but didn't seem to need any help.

Then her eyes wandered to Arlo and it was as if time stood still. He, too, had already killed one monster without any problems and, slightly turned away from her, was fighting the second, but that was not what made her freeze in horror.

No, behind him, completely unnoticed by the three of them, a seventh Miner Variant had crept up. As if in slow motion, she saw it raise its scythe high above its head, ready to strike a fatal blow.

A deafening buzz filled her ears, all-encompassing panic gripped her, and she tried to yell a warning to Arlo, but no sound escaped her throat. Without her knowledge, her feet began to move. 

Slowly, the scythe lowered and pure desperation made her speed up.

Oh God, please don't let her be too late!

Suddenly Elenya crashed into Arlo's side and time jumped back to normal speed.

With a dull thud, they both hit the ground. For a moment she thought she had prevented the worst, but then it hit her. The pain .

It spread across her back like fire. Tore at her body and had the impact not knocked the air out of her lungs, she would have screamed. But she couldn't. Instead, the pain overwhelmed her and everything went dark.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Arlo didn't know what hit him at first. One second he was delivering the final blow to the monster in front of him and the next he was on the ground, a familiar weight on top of him.

The impact knocked the air out of him and it took him a moment to catch his breath. 

What?

Confused, he looked first at the Miner Variant that had suddenly appeared where he had been, as if from nowhere, and at the way Remy was driving it away with his hammer, and then at the shock of black hair resting on his chest.

Elenya.

A surge of fear shot through him, coupled with the terrible realisation of what must have happened. Desperately, he called out her name, in the hope of some kind of response that would alleviate his growing dread.

"Elenya! Please answer me!" His trembling right hand reached out to gently shake her shoulder, but as soon as his fingers made contact, a small whimper escaped her lips and his heart clenched.

His fingers met something warm and sticky, and far too much of it.

"Elenya..."

As carefully as he could, he pulled out from under her, eliciting pained whimpers that tore at his heart, but he needed to know what had happened. He made sure to lay her on the floor in the same position she had been on top of him.

When he finally knelt beside her and could examine her back, he wished he could turn back time. A deep, long cut ran from her left shoulder down the middle of her back, stopping just short of her spine. Blood flowed in streams from it.

His stomach turned and horror rendered him immobile.

Oh God...

For far too long a time he stared at the horrific sight before him. Time in which Elenya lost precious blood.

By the time he was able to shake himself from his stupor, her blood was already spreading across the floor and he desperately pulled everything out of his waist pack until he had compresses in his hands. With both hands, he pressed the compresses firmly against her back, desperately attempting to stem the bleeding.

A faint cry of pain tore from Elenya's throat and a stream of apologetic words flowed from his mouth.

"I'm so sorry, darling. Everything will be alright. Please hold on. I'm sorry... I'm so sorry."

But the blood refused to let up, the metallic smell rising into his nose, and he pressed harder, his actions fuelled by desperation. Elenya's cries faded to silence.

"Please, please hold on. You can't die. Please don't..." Fear ate him up inside.

How had this happened? Why hadn't he noticed the presence of the Miner Variant? And, most agonising of all, why had Elenya chosen to throw herself in harm's way?

Fear, horror, confusion and anger mixed within him, overwhelming him like a searing wave. Unbeknownst to him, tears of despair fell upon his hands as he fought desperately to save Elenya's life.

Only Remington's shocked voice managed to break through the chaos consuming him.

"Arlo!" His best friend dropped to his knees beside him, his expression mirroring Arlo's own horror.

"Remi, help me," Arlo pleaded in a strained, shaking voice. He needed someone else to be there with him, his normal control slipping with Elenya's blood through his fingers. His mind raced, trying to remember any knowledge of first aid that might help them in this situation. But panic threatened to overwhelm him, and he fought to keep his focus on saving Elenya.

Despite his shock, Remington sprang into action. He dug into his waist pack and pulled out all the first aid supplies he could find.

"Come on, we need to get her jacket and T-shirt off. Otherwise we can't bandage her." Remi tried to pull his hands away, but he resisted.

"I can't! She's losing blood way too fast!" Pure panic filled his voice. Elenya was about to bleed to death and he didn't know what to do. 

"Okay, okay, I'll have to cut off the jacket then. We can leave the T-shirt on. You keep the pressure on, I'll work around you." Quickly, Remington pulled out a small knife and started cutting what was left of Elenya's jacket.

Meanwhile, Arlo never let up the pressure on Elenya's wound. The compresses and his hands were the only thing keeping her from certain death.

Once the jacket was out of the way, Remi grabbed a fresh pile of compresses and instructed Arlo to remove the ones that had completely bled through. With Remi's guidance, they managed to wrap several bandages tightly around Elenya's torso, stopping most of the bleeding.

"We need to get her out of here, back to Portia," Remington said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes. "I'll take her horse. You carry her. We'll ride as fast as we can."

Arlo nodded, his friend's words a lifeline in the midst of the chaos. Gently, carefully , he lifted Elenya into his arms, cradling her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. Which she was. At least to him. He could feel her shallow breaths against his chest and prayed with every fibre of his being that she would hold on.

With Remington leading the way, they hurried out of the cave and mounted their horses. Elenya was carefully placed in front of Arlo on his horse, supported by his strong arms. Her head rested against his shoulder and he could feel her feverish skin against his neck.

"Stay with me, Elenya," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Come on, sweetheart. You can make it."

The ride back to Portia was a blur. He barely remembered passing the bridge or the gate. Not even the people calling out to them anxiously as they raced through the streets. All he could focus on was the gentle up and down of Elenya's chest under his hand. They couldn't lose a second. It could be Elenya's last.

Twenty minutes after they had set off, they finally reached the clinic at the top of the hill. Remi helped him carefully lift Elenya off the horse, and then they rushed through the door of the clinic. 

Inside, two pairs of startled eyes locked on them, quickly widening in shock at the sight of the bloodied Elenya in Arlo's arms.

"Arlo, Remington, what happened? Quick, put her down here." Quickly, Dr. Xu scurried over to the bed behind the room divider and instructed Arlo to lay Elenya down on it.

Hesitantly, he complied. The fear and desperation in him didn't want to let her go, wanted to keep her safe in his arms, but reason quickly took over. As carefully as he could, he placed her on the bed and turned her onto her stomach so that she wouldn't lie on her wound.

At the movement, a pained whimper escaped her, tearing at his heart and at the same time flooding him with slight relief. As painful as the sound was, it told him they weren't too late. Her consciousness was still aware of something.

A horrified gasp went through the room as Elenya's back came into view of the two medics. The bandages that Remi and he had applied as best they could were now completely soaked through, and the mere sight of them made Arlo dizzy.

Oh God, how much blood had she lost by now?

For a moment all he could do was stare at Elenya's back in utter horror until Dr. Xu shooed him away. Or at least tried to.

He tried to force his legs to move, but another overwhelming wave of emotions had overtaken him, leaving him motionless. Paralysed, he stared down at the petite figure of his wife, his everything, who had risked her life to save his.

A hand wrapped around his upper arm and pulled him a few steps away, but he barely noticed.

Dr. Xu's voice broke through Arlo's trance, sharp and authoritative. "Arlo, I need you to step back. We need to tend to her injuries."

Arlo tore his eyes from Elenya's still form, his heart pounding in his chest. He nodded, feeling a mixture of guilt and helplessness. He stumbled back, his legs feeling weak beneath him. Remington stood at his side, a supportive presence in the midst of the chaos.

"Come on, let's give these two some space so they can work undisturbed." Without waiting for a response, Remi pulled him out of the clinic and over to their headquarters. 

Arlo wanted to resist, couldn't bear to leave Elenya alone, but Remi's gentle but firm grip on his upper arm wouldn't budge. Only when they were standing in the middle of the large room of their headquarters did Remi let go of him.

Not knowing what to do with himself, Arlo stopped. Completely lost, he stared unseeingly into the air before him until two strong hands placed themselves on his shoulders and brown eyes bored into his. There was deep concern and tension in them as well, but Remi was far more composed than he was.

"Arlo, everything is going to be fine. Elenya's strong and Dr. Xu and Phyllis know what they're doing. She'll be fine, okay?" 

Arlo nodded weakly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know, Remi. It's just... seeing her like that, covered in blood... I can't shake that image."

Remington's grip on Arlo's shoulders tightened reassuringly. "I understand, Arlo. But right now you need to take care of yourself as well. You're covered in her blood and that's not going to help anyone."

Arlo's gaze drifted down to his blood-soaked clothes and a shudder ran through him. He hadn't even realised how much of Elenya's blood had gotten on him during their desperate struggle to save her. The reality hit him like a punch to the gut, and his stomach churned at the sight.

"You're right," he managed to croak, his throat tightening. "I need to clean up."

Remington patted his back sympathetically. "Take a shower, get the blood off you. I'll bring you some of my clothes."

Numbly, Arlo made his way to the bathroom. His movements were mechanical, his mind still clouded by the terrible events of the day. As he turned on the water and stepped into the shower, he felt the warmth seep into his skin, but he couldn't shake the coldness that seemed to have settled in his bones.

The blood was diluted now, swirling down the drain with the water. But even the sight of it disappearing didn't lighten the weight on his chest. He couldn't get the image of Elenya's injured form out of his mind, and the realisation of how close he had come to losing her was suffocating.

On top of that came this incredible anger. By now he didn't know whether he was more angry at her or at himself. How could he have missed the seventh Miner Variant? Why hadn't he noticed it sneaking up on him? And why, why had Elenya thrown herself in between?

Arlo abruptly turned off the shower, stumbled out and collapsed on the bathroom floor. His breath came in ragged gasps and he covered his mouth with his hand, fighting the urge to vomit. The blood, the fear, the helplessness, the anger - it was all too overwhelming.

Remington's voice echoed in his head, urging him to take care of himself. Arlo pressed his palms against his temples, his heart racing as he concentrated on the sound of his own uneven breathing. Slowly, his pulse began to steady and he pushed himself to his feet.

With trembling hands, he reached for a towel and wrapped it around himself, noticing that Remi had left some clothes on the counter for him. Barely controlling his emotions, he dried himself and pulled on the simple t-shirt and sweatpants. With one last look in the mirror to make sure all the blood had been washed away, he left the bathroom.

Outside, Remi was waiting for him with a slight smile. 

"Better?"

Arlo nodded curtly. It was an outright lie, but Remington was just as worried about Elenya and he didn't want to burden him with his out of control emotions.

"I'm glad to hear that. I'll take a shower as well, okay?" Remi demonstratively showed him another bundle of clean clothes and Arlo nodded again. He couldn't get a word out of his tightened throat.

With one last worried look, Remi disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Arlo alone with his inner turmoil. The training dummy, silent witness to his torment, caught his eye. Without even thinking about wrapping his hands or putting on gloves, he unleashed his pent-up emotions on the inanimate object. Each punch carried the weight of his anger, fear, and despair, as if he could physically beat away the tormenting 'whys' that plagued his thoughts.

The room seemed to shrink around him as he sought refuge in his relentless assault on the dummy. The dull thuds of his fists against the worn fabric filled the space, mirroring the cacophony of questions that echoed in his mind. Each blow was a futile attempt to find answers, a way to rationalise the incomprehensible.

His knuckles split open, but he didn't notice. The pain in his hands was nothing compared to the agony in his heart. Blood mixed with sweat, staining the dummy and his hands in a gruesome display of his inner turmoil. Yet, he didn't care about the pain or the mess; he needed an outlet for the overwhelming emotions threatening to consume him.

Time became a blur as he lost himself in this frenzied assault. He didn't know how long he had been at it when suddenly two strong hands closed around his upper arms, pulling him away from his desperate endeavour. Arlo fought the grip with all his might, every fibre of his being yearning to return to the only solace he'd found in this moment of chaos.

"Arlo! Stop!" The voice, barely recognisable through his tumultuous thoughts, penetrated his consciousness. Remi's familiar voice made him stop and clarity returned to his thoughts.

Arlo's laboured breaths filled the room as his arms fell powerlessly to his side. His eyes were wild, a storm of emotions swirling within them. He felt vulnerable, exposed, as if his soul had been laid bare. The 'whys' still echoed, but now there was another question fighting for dominance: "Why couldn't he protect her?"

As if in a trance, he followed the drops of blood dripping from his hands to the floor.

Drip, drip, drip...

Another pair of shoes slid into his field of vision and he recognised them as Sam's.

When had she come in?

Confused, he lifted his gaze slightly from her shoes to her green eyes and was greeted with deep concern. A sad smile sat on her lips.

Shame crept up his spine and for a moment he tried to control his emotions, to get into his 'captain' mode, but quickly realised he didn't have the strength. Instead, his shoulders slumped even more and he let Remi lead him over to one of the yellow armchairs without resistance.

He could hear Sam disappearing into the bathroom as he was pushed into the chair and a short time later Sam was kneeling on the floor in front of him, one of his bloody hands in hers, cleaning his cracked knuckles. The cleaning burned like fire, but instead of complaining, he welcomed the pain. It distracted him from all the terrible feelings that were eating him up inside.

No one spoke a word while Sam tended to his hands and there was a tense, worry-filled silence in the headquarters. Remi, meanwhile, wiped the blood from the floor and the training dummy, and a new wave of shame and guilt washed over Arlo.

Not only was Elenya badly injured because of him (he tried to banish the "maybe even dead" thought from his mind immediately), no, his teammates now had to take care of his mess as well. Couldn't he do anything right today?

15 minutes later, his hands were cleaned and bandaged, and the three of them were sitting squashed together on their couch. There had still been no word from either of them, and Arlo was grateful to his two friends. Nothing anyone could say to him would help him now. Only Dr. Xu telling him that Elenya would be fine would be able to quell his fear.

He didn't know how long they sat there. His thoughts were solely on his wife, who was fighting for her life one building away. All alone, without him.

His heart tightened painfully for the hundredth time today and with a low groan he buried his face in his bandaged hands. His emotions threatened to overwhelm him again when the door finally opened and an exhausted Dr. Xu entered.

All three of them were instantly on alert as they watched Dr. Xu walk over to them and drop into the chair beside them. 

Before any of them could say anything, the doctor began to speak.

"First things first, she's going to make it." 

Immediately, a heavy weight was lifted from Arlo's heart. She was going to make it.

"But it was damn close this time. Really close. Elenya had lost so much blood that her body went into shock and her heart threatened to stop..."

Arlo felt like his heart was going to stop. His sweet little builder had really almost died? The horror must have been written all over his face, because Dr. Xu hurried to continue speaking quickly.

"But we managed to stabilise her! We had enough blood to replace most of the blood she had lost. I cleaned and stitched the wound on her back and bandaged it tightly. She was really lucky. A little further and there would have been a risk of nerves in her spine being severed. But as far as I can tell at the moment, she should recover almost completely. However, I cannot promise that she will ever regain full use of her arm. The cut did a lot of damage to her shoulder muscles."

Exhausted, Dr. Xu sank further into the soft cushion of the chair after his explanation, letting his words sink in for the three of them.

Arlo didn't know what to feel. The strongest was relief, followed by pain at the thought of what Elenya would have to endure over the next few weeks, and then there was that anger that wouldn't let go of him. 

She might have risked her career for him. What if she could no longer move her arm enough to pursue her passion for building? How could she risk that just to take the fall of his own inattention?

Remi snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Can we see her?"

Immediately his attention snapped back to Dr. Xu. The latter gave a deep sigh.

"Phyllis is taking care of her right now. I just wanted to let you know in advance that she'll be fine. But I think Arlo can go and see her. I'm sure you're dying to see her."

He didn't need to be told twice. Without really paying attention to the others, he jumped up and a moment later was standing in the clinic, his gaze fixed on the room divider behind which he could hear Phyllis working.

Suddenly completely conflicted about whether he even wanted to know what was behind it, he approached the hospital bed with hesitant steps.

The first thing he saw were Elenya's feet, covered by a light white blanket. The closer he got, the more came into his field of vision. He quickly saw that she was turned onto her right side, large pillows behind her back ensuring that she couldn't turn onto her back and onto her wound.

He stopped at the foot of the bed. Now he could see what Phyllis was doing. She was gently wiping the dirt and blood from Elenya's face with a basin of water and a soft cloth. She had already braided Elenya's long black hair into a loose plait to keep it out of the way, giving Arlo a clear view of her pale and slightly sunken cheeks.

Seeing those beloved features, as unhealthy as they looked at the moment, relieved him a little more and he let his gaze slide down to her shoulder. Her left arm was resting on a large pillow and her entire torso was wrapped in thick bandages, but now they were pristine white and another weight fell from his heart. 

The only blood left was covering Elenya's forearm. Phyllis had probably not yet had time to clean it.

An uncontrollable desire to touch Elenya suddenly overcame him and he cleared his throat softly to get Phyllis' attention. Startled, she turned to him.

"Oh, Arlo, I didn't hear you come in. I need a moment, then you can sit with her." A warm, reassuring smile graced her lips, but he couldn't wait any longer.

"Can I maybe...?" It was only at the sound of his raspy voice that he realised how long it had been since he'd said anything, but didn't let it faze him. His hand pointed first to the soft rag in her hand, then to Elenya's blood-encrusted arm. Confused, Phyllis looked at him for a moment before she seemed to understand what he was asking. Her gaze softened even more.

"Of course. You just have to be very careful not to move her shoulder. It was very difficult to sew the wound and the stitches are very fragile." She handed him the cloth and made room for him.

Silently, he sat down on the chair beside the bed and dipped the cloth into the lukewarm water from the basin on the table beside the bed. He wrung out the excess water and then wiped the last bit of dirt from Elenya's forehead as gently as he could.

Once the spot was clean, he pressed his lips gently against it and whispered against her forehead: "Hey, sweetie. I'll watch over you, okay? I'll take care of you."

With the same tenderness, he continued to clean every bit of dirt and blood from her skin until she was as clean as she could be. Phyllis took the basin of dirty water from him, checked once more that Elenya was lying correctly and that the IV needle in the back of her hand hadn’t slipped, then left him alone.

Once more he pressed a long, warm kiss against Elenya's forehead and then leaned back in the chair to watch over her healing sleep.

For four days he sat there almost non stop, four long days in which Elenya didn't stir. Soothed the light fever she developed with a cool cloth, tried to dispel any bad dreams and whispered loving, encouraging words in her ear. And then, on the morning of the fifth day, he had just come into the clinic, freshly awakened from a fitful sleep in his old room, her eyelids finally fluttered open and her beautiful green eyes appeared.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Elenya awoke in confusion. Where was she?

The first thing she noticed was that she was lying on her right side. Nothing unusual at first, she usually slept on her side, but then there was usually a muscular, warm chest beneath her, with a strong, reassuring heartbeat beating beneath it.

But there was no heartbeat under her ear, and the mattress she was lying on was definitely not hers. There also seemed to be several pillows behind her, preventing her from rolling over. In general, there were a lot of pillows around her. Her left arm also appeared to be resting on one. This, together with a tight bandage around her upper body, kept her in a stable position.

What was going on?

There was only one way to find out.

With difficulty she managed to open her eyes, and instantly all the tension that had built up inside her disappeared as her eyes fell on the familiar redhead in front of her.

Arlo was here, so at least she was safe. He was rubbing his eyes and didn't notice that she had woken up, but as soon as he lowered his hands and his gaze fell on her open eyes, his features lit up.

"Elenya, sweetheart! You're awake!" Joyfully, his slightly hoarse voice echoed through the room and his warm hand came to rest gently on her cheek. He leaned closer to her.

"It's good to see those beautiful eyes again. I was so worried. How are you feeling?" A warm but strained smile graced his lips and for a moment she could only stare at him.

Deep shadows lay under his eyes, his face was pale, and his normally bright blue eyes seemed dull. And she thought she hadn't imagined the bruised knuckles she'd just caught a glimpse of. What had happened?

She could barely remember. They were in the desert, that much she remembered, but what had happened after that? What had made Arlo so worried?

Elenya tried to ask him, but her mouth was completely dry and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. A strangled sound left her throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry, darling. Here." Arlo seemed to realise immediately what her problem was and reached for the glass on the table next to the hospital bed on which she must have been lying. A straw rested in it, which he now gently slipped between her lips.

She sucked greedily at the straw, enjoying the way the cool water moistened first her mouth and then her dry throat. Before she could empty the glass in quick gulps, though, Arlo pulled it away from her again. A protesting sound escaped her.

"Slow down, sweetheart, or you'll get sick. You've been unconscious for four days, your stomach needs to get used to liquids again." He stroked her hair apologetically, but his words made her forget her lingering thirst.

Four days? She had been unconscious for four days ? That would explain at least one thing. No wonder Arlo looked so exhausted. Worry must have been eating him up inside.

"Arlo?" She was startled by the weak, exhausted tone of her voice. Was that really her?

"Yes, sweetheart?" His hand slid from her hair down to her cheek, and with a soft sigh, she snuggled into his warm palm.

"What... what exactly happened?" Her second attempt to speak wasn't any better, but Arlo had no trouble understanding her.

"You want to know what happened?" To her surprise, his face suddenly twisted with anger and he withdrew his hand. "You almost died, that's what happened! Because you were a bloody idiot!" He was seething.

"How could you be so careless? I took you with me because I know you can look after yourself. But I didn't expect you to be stupid enough to get between me and the sharp scythe of a Miner Variant. What the hell were you thinking?!"

Furious, Arlo paced in front of her bed, running his hands through his hair and breathing heavily. 

Concern rose in Elenya. She had never seen Arlo so angry, let alone at her, and she didn't know how to handle that. 

At the mention of a scythe, however, images finally surfaced in her mind that would explain quite a bit.

"Why the hell did you do that? Why?" He stopped in front of the chair.

"You could have died, for fuck's sake! And it would have been my fault..." His voice broke on the last words and he collapsed on the chair, crying.

Her heart broke in two at the sight and she was overcome with guilt.

She didn't regret what she'd done, but she'd never wanted to put Arlo through that kind of pain.

"Arlo..." She wanted to reach for him, wipe away his tears, but even the slightest tensing of her arm sent terrible pain from her shoulder to her spine, and with a shocked gasp, she quickly dropped her hand back to the pillows in front of her.

Like fire, the pain spread down her back and she couldn't stop herself from whimpering.

Oh God...

"Elenya, stop! Please, don't move. You'll open your stitches!" Quick as a flash, Arlo shot back up from his chair. Anger still radiated from him, but his touch was all gentle and careful as he placed his large hand on top of hers, stopping her from moving any further.

Not that she had any intention of doing that again.

She struggled to breathe through the pain, tears streaming down her face as the agony refused to subside, taking her breath away.

"Hey, shhh, you're okay. Come on, take a deep breath. You can do this. Just breathe." Gently, Arlo's free hand stroked through her hair and she desperately concentrated on the sensation of his warm hands.

After several agonising minutes, the pain gradually subsided, leaving her utterly exhausted and her muscles limp. Arlo still clasped her hand in his and used his other hand to gently wipe away her tears. With great effort, she managed to flip her hand beneath his, offering a weak squeeze as an apology.

"I'm sorry, Arlo. I didn't mean to cause you so much pain." Her voice was so weak and she could feel her body fighting to stay awake, but she really needed to talk to him about it.

There was so much pain, fear and anger in his eyes and she wanted, needed , to calm at least some of it.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you like that..." Arlo pulled the chair closer to the bed and sank into it, exhausted, never letting go of her hand. "It's just... I don't understand. Why would you do something like that? What were you thinking?" Confusion and distress etched his face, and another tear slipped from his eye.

How she longed to wipe it away.

"To be honest... I wasn't thinking at all. I just saw you being attacked from behind and I... just acted. One moment I saw the raised scythe, and the next... searing pain, and then nothing..." Her voice weakened with each word, but she fought the exhaustion. She couldn't sleep now. Arlo needed her.

He flinched slightly when she mentioned pain and then ran a stressed hand through his hair.

"That was so stupid of you. Besides the big scar you will now bear forever, Dr. Xu said you might never get full use of your arm again. If that happens, you might never be able to build anything again, and all of this just to protect me. I just don't understand how you could do something so stupid..." Desperately he looked at her, confusion still deep in his eyes.

Before she could answer him, what he'd said hit home. For a moment, Elenya's world stopped. She might have to give up her profession? But... what would she do then?

For a split second, she regretted what she had done, but then that thought immediately vanished again. If she hadn't done what she had, she might have lost Arlo forever, and she couldn't bear that. She would rather not swing a hammer for the rest of her life than live without Arlo for even one day.

And she decided to tell him just that.

"I love you, Arlo. So very much. I'm sorry I caused you so much worry and pain, but I'd do it again any time. I can't imagine my life without you. I would rather not be able to work another day than have to be without you." Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes, but Arlo was quick to wipe them away.

"Oh, my sweet, idiot builder. I don't want to spend a day without you either. But that's what almost happened. For a moment, I thought I had lost you." A brief flicker of despair crossed his face, but it quickly disappeared, replaced by a look of love. Gently, he pressed his forehead against hers.

"I love you so much, darling. Please always remember that I can't lose you any more than you can." A short pause. "But thank you for saving my life."

For an eternally long moment they looked deeply into each other's eyes, lost in the familiar feeling of love, until Elenya's last reserves of strength were used up. Without her consent, her eyes kept falling shut, but she kept trying to fight it.

She didn't want to sleep again. Arlo was here with her.

But he, of course, saw her exhaustion and, after a gentle kiss against her forehead, moved away from her.

"You need to rest, darling. Sleep."

"But..."

"I'll be here when you wake up." Arlo, as always, seemed to know exactly what was going on inside her and so she finally gave in.

Her eyes closed, Arlo's gently smiling face disappearing behind her eyelids, but exhausted as she was, sleep wouldn't come.

She felt strangely cold. Not physically cold, but mentally. As if something was missing. But what?

With a soft sigh she opened her eyes again. Maybe Arlo could help her? He always knew how to make her feel better.

Concerned blue eyes met hers as her vision finally focused.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?" Arlo's voice dripped with concern and she hurried to deny his question.

"No, it's just... I don't know... I can't fall asleep." Seeking help, she looked at him. Her head was swimming with exhaustion and she could feel her body crying out for sleep. But then why wasn't it coming?

The worry didn't leave Arlo's gaze and thoughtfully he looked at her. For a long time he said nothing, until suddenly he started to take off his sweater.

Confused, Elenya watched him. What was he up to? Not that she ever minded him taking his clothes off, but that usually didn't help her fall asleep.

As he held the soft, grey garment in his hands, he slid it as gently as possible under her head and adjusted it until the collar of the sweater was directly under her nose. The fabric was still slightly warm against her cheek, and with the familiar scent now rising directly into her nose, something inside her settled. The empty feeling inside her disappeared and her eyes closed in relief.

It seemed she had missed Arlo .

"Thank you..." The words left her lips like a soft breath, her mind already half asleep and only vaguely aware of Arlo's warm lips pressing against her temple.

"Anytime, sweetheart. Sleep well, my heart."

[shivunin]

hello!!!!! for the fic questions: 1, 30, 41, and 42!! because i'm greedy hehe

Well I am greedy to answer questions, so this works out perfectly 💗 Thank you, Zen!

(Zen, this turned out so long sdkfjbkasbkf)

(Fic Writer Questions)

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

Oooh, either As Two Reflected Stars or To the Bone. I think they both have a word count that isn't too intimidating and between them they contain most of the recurring tropes I tap into a lot. Also, so much pining. Who doesn't love pining?

(But if someone was asking and they really like pain/angst, I will point you toward Wander the Drifting Roads and be here with tea and a blanket when you're done)

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

Actually, it's not fic-related, but when I was in college I had an assignment to write a braided narrative (nonfiction) and it was sooooo hard. I had no idea what I was doing. But in conference with my professor afterward, we walked through each "strand" of the writing separately and then together and it really changed the way I think about linear narrative.

I mean, obviously (you've read my work haha) it's one of my favorite things to do now. It's most easily seen in Wander, but the Mass Effect piece I'm writing now utilizes this idea to some extent. I like the idea of the future and the past and memory existing simultaneously and separately at once. Especially when the plot is about memory to some extent (and, really, most of them are for me haha)

41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”

Oooh here's some that used really cool mechanics/techniques that I like (and, Zen, I mean this genuinely, not because it's you asking, so I'm gonna pretend you didn't write it while I talk about yours):

What to Do by Undomiel_Writes: This fic uses such a cool way of keeping time in the story and I love it. It's Garrus by Shepard's bedside and he's trying to keep busy, so there's this really cool reiteration of all the little tasks he gives himself and it is just. So so neat.

Scar Tissue by zenstrike: I am a sucker for the divide between someone's words and what they mean/think, and this fic has it in spades. I really like following Garrus's thoughts so closely, and the way dialogue is present/not present at the same time (because it kind of complements the sense that everything is only sort of happening to him/his thoughts and actions being sort of blurred). It's just! Really clever and it makes me think differently about the rhythm of speech and thought.

I couldn't pick just one by them, but Under Thorns and River Stone by loquaciousquark: The first because it made me rethink how an AU could work/how all the parts of canon could be reshaped into a different world (and also, I like. love the fairytale this is a retelling of). The second because when I first started writing fic, one of the reasons I did so was to learn how to write action sequences/fight scenes and the one at the beginning of this fic is so good (they all are, really). Also, I finished this fic and started it over again immediately, and when I was done reading it the second time, I thought man, I want to write something that somebody sobs over and them immediately hits the chapter one button again.

Experiments in Diplomacy by Dulcidyne: I really really enjoy the way the author fuses emotion and science in this fic; it is just so heartfelt and well-done and it made me think about how I could incorporate the things I love into my own writing.

A Man's Word is His Bond by howlsmovinglibrary: I adore the Surana in this fic and the character work with her is just. so delightful. Her personality comes across so strongly and consistently that when I first read this, it was absolutely something I wanted to achieve myself.

Oh shoot it said a fic. As in one. I meant to only do two, but I waded into my bookmarks and here we are. Sorry D: I'm gonna leave all this here anyway!

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

Yeah!! Honestly, all of the really specific and heartfelt ones stick with me. I think about them when I use the same sort of trope or technique again, especially if the comment itself was agonized. But here are a couple specific ones (and I don't want to embarrass anyone by pointing them out specifically, but if you wrote one of these and want me to I will tag you lol).

I was genuinely thinking about deleting Wander and starting over roughly three weeks after I posted it (I was never 100% happy with the ending) and literally the night I was driving home and mulling the pros and cons of doing just that, I received a comment on the final chapter that said, among other things, "I don't have the words to describe it. Raw? Real? As if you had torn out my heart and repeatedly squeezed it in front of my face. I don't know I wish I had a better vocabulary for what I want to besides that I am really hurt, I am haunted by the pain, and I thank you for it." It was just...so well-timed and so genuine that it completely changed the way I thought about the story and my writing as a whole and also....made me want to participate in the fandom in general.

The review that described Maria as a "radiant menace" and I loved it so much I had to change my blog title

The first comment I ever got (on Your Fate) complimenting my taste in music <3

Every time someone comments on a new fic like "go ahead, fuck me up, I'm ready," hahaa it makes me feel so seen and trusted

"Your writing is so good I want to eat it like a bonbon" I think about this literally all the time. When I finish a good section, I think hmmm yes like a bonbon

Actually fuck it, I was reading through my AO3 inbox to try to find something and I am crying now and I love everybody and I'm so glad I started writing fic I can't think of anything else to say T.T

[sesshy380]

20 questions writer meme

I’ve seen this on my dash a few times, and I’m going to take the open invitation from @alectoperdita to do it.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

14

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

402,481

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Yugioh DM

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

My Kudos stats are a bit skewed because I got hit by the Kudosbot on three separate occasions. That being said, here is the list according to AO3 (I will mark which ones have false numbers)

Yu-Gi-Oh: Tangled Web of Fate (incorrect numbers 🚫) (it hurts me the most on this particular fic because it’s my ongoing baby 😭)

Don’t you…have a company to run? (correct numbers ✅)

Returned (correct numbers ✅)

Task Failed Successfully (mildly incorrect numbers 🚫)

Talking with Myself (incorrect numbers 🚫)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond to all comments, though sometimes I see one while I’m busy with something else and forget to come back to it later.

I promise if I don’t respond, it’s usually because of this and by the time I remember, anxiety brain tells me it’s outside of the acceptable timeframe to post a response. I know that’s not true, but anxiety wins 99% of the time in this situation.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Everyone that’s read my fics knows how much I love angst. That being said, I can’t end them that way. The closest I think I’ve come to an angsty ending is the way some of the chapters end in Our Scars remind Us that the Past was Real.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I want to say either The things we do for Love or Crazy for You.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not hate. The closest I’ve gotten is a ‘negative review via bookmark comment’. I’ve learned to just ignore that particular bookmark.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I made the attempt with Task Failed Successfully. I have realized that it’s not my thing writing-wise (but I still love to read it lol)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not yet, though I do have a few in my Rabbit Hutch (what I call my bunny docs).

One is pure crack insanity that is basically a 4th wall breaking parody of Dragon Age Origins with the Yugioh DM cast as the main characters.

The other is a bit more serious and is set in the World of Warcraft universe with the Yugioh DM cast as the main characters.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I had one copied and posted without my consent on another platform (it still listed me as the Author though). I filed a petition to have it removed, and while it still shows up in the search results on that platform, when you click the link it states that the fic was removed.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, and at one time I wouldn’t even consider it. Now I would, but I would be selective to people whose writing styles I am very familiar with.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I don’t have just one. The following are all on equal ground:

Deathshipping

Gemshipping

Conspireshipping

I’m also a huge fan of the Dark/Caste/Hateshipping (it’s complicated so I just include all the variations) I have building in my longfic. I love putting those two idiots into situations.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Probably one of the ones in my Rabbit Hutch that I already know will be longfics. I want to finish my current longfic before I try to tackle any of the others.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hmmm…I want to say being descriptive? Like, the part where you paint the scene and feelings using words…if that makes sense.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing from a character perspective that I don’t click with. It’s not that I don’t like the character, I just find myself having a hard time getting into their mindset. * cough* Yugi * cough *

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I have done this for a few parts of my longfic, and when I say I go to great lengths of research to make sure it’s right, I mean it. I usually write the English spelling equivalent for Arabic, and for Gaelic I tend to write some of it from a phonetic perspective (I put that in the A/N at the end if it’s phonetic). Foreign language dialogue is something I primarily use to express intimate declarations (like ‘ana bahebik’).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I’ve only written for one fandom at this point, and that’s Yugioh DM

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Oh wow. I love all of my fics to some degree, but if I had to choose one to be my fave…probably White Lady.

The comments I’ve received on it helped boost my confidence in my writing back during a time when I was really starting to doubt my writing ability. Sometimes when I need a confidence reminder, I go back and reread it and then look over all the wonderful comments.

I'm not tagging anyone, but if you see this and want to do it consider yourself tagged!