#and then I die in your arms on the battlefield
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Die With a Smile
summary: eren has a conversation with you at his cabin. f!reader x eren (slowburn kinda + angst + fluff + smut) wk: 3.4k
Eren woke up with a start, the world around him unfamiliar, yet strangely serene. The sunlight seemed too soft, too perfect, as if the day itself was holding its breath. He blinked, trying to shake the fog in his mind, but the more he tried to focus, the more it felt like he was being pulled into a dream. He looked aroundâno walls, no titans, no battlefield. Only the whisper of wind and the distant murmur of voices.
"Where am I?" he whispered to himself, his voice breaking the eerie silence. He stood, his legs unsteady, and began walking, following the voices, faint and familiar, calling to him.
He couldnât remember what happenedâwhy everything felt so surreal. The closer he got to the voices, the more it felt like he had wandered into something that wasnât meant for him. A dream, perhaps? A dream that was slipping through his fingers, but still⌠it felt too real.
Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow, a voice echoed softly in his mind. The words were gentle, familiar.
He reached a clearing, and there you wereâ standing in a field of flowers, your back to him. A smile on your face, like you had been waiting. No hesitation, no anger. Just your warmth, ever-present kindness.
"ErenâŚ" you whispered, turning, your voice soft like a prayer. "Youâre here."
He stepped forward, his heart racing, feeling a weight he hadnât felt in years lift from his chest. Itâs just a dream, he thought. It has to be. But it feels real.
"Y/n," he wondered, his voice shaking, "Is this⌠real?"
You smiled at him, your gaze warm and unwavering. "Does it matter? As long as weâre together."
Erenâs chest still felt tight, doubt in the back of his mind, but the smile on your face melted his doubts away.
âLetâs go to the cabin,â you suggested, tugging on Erenâs arm. You lead the way, occasionally stopping to look at the flowers and wildlife.
âY/n⌠â Eren starts. âCan I ask you something?â
âWhat is it?â your eyebrows twist into a âvâ shape when you hear his concerning tone, but you patiently wait for him to speak his mind.
Eren opens the door to the cabin and ushers you inside. You plop down flat on the bed and he stands at the door, hands in his pockets, leaning against it.Â
âIf the world was ending, what would you do?â
Youâre taken aback by the sudden question. The unnerving question sends a chill down your spine, but you give it some good thought. If the world was ending, what would I do?Â
âWell,â you sit up. âIf the world was ending, Iâd wanna be next to you.â
Although Eren has been pretty distant and nonchalant lately, he canât hide the look of surprise on his face from your answer. His green eyes widen, even if only slightly, but you still catch it.
âNo.â
âWhat do you mean no!?â
âI mean I wonât allow it.â Eren stands straight, removing his hand from his pockets. He sauntered over to you, placing one hand on your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. âYou mean too much to me.â
âTough shit, Eren.â You cross your arms. âYou know Armin, Mikasa, and I â fuck, the entire damn scout regiment, would do anything for you.â
âThatâs the fucking problem!â he spits out. You jerk your head away from his grip, crawling backward on the bed to get some space. âI donât want you guys to throw your lives away for me!â
âErenâŚâ
âDonât.â He growls, turning away from you, staring at the grass just outside the cabin window. âAll I want is for you guys to be safe. And if we lose this war with Marley, if something happens to you guys, I donât know if I can ââ
You roll out of the bed and hug him from behind, cutting him off. You gently place your hand over his mouth.Â
âShut up,â you hug him as tight as possible. âI know I speak for everyone when I say this, but wherever you go, that's where I'll follow.â
âWhat ifâ â
Your hand shushes him again.
âNobody's promised tomorrow.â Eren lets you turn him so he has to face you again. You faintly pry his right hand open with your own, interlocking your fingers with his. âSo no matter what happens, weâre with you. Iâm with you.â
Eren blinks back at your words, his free hand clutching his heart. He shakes his head, but his eyes betray him. The pools of water in green orbs finally overflow, slowly falling down his cheek.
âThe future,â Erenâs lip trembles, his voice shaking. âThis war⌠âhe trails off again. You use your free hand to cup his face and wipe off his tears with your thumb.
âI donât care about the future,â you declare. Eren takes a step back, processing what youâre saying. âWeâve been living day to day for so long, ever since that damn colossal titan broke through our walls. All weâve got is right now. We canât afford to stress about the future.â
Eren brushes his long hair back with his fingers, out of his eyes, and nods. âYouâre right.â
For some reason, your heart beats even faster when you look down at your interlocked fingers. Neither one of you have ever said it outright, but it was evident in both of your actions how much you two cared for each other. Eren was always the first one to defend you, not that you need it anymore.Â
When he found you, crying and alone during the fall of Wall Maria, he took you in. Quickly, Armin grew to like you and found you a strong asset when it came to killing titans. Mikasa was the hardest to win over, but once Eren proved you werenât a threat to him or Paradis, she slowly began to like you. The four of you became inseparable friends, and climbed up the ranks in the Scout Regiment so quickly.Â
And every single time Erenâs life was in danger, you were always there for him.
And every single time you got into an overwhelming situation with titans, without fail, Eren was always there for you. His oversized attack titan form, always ready to protect you. You both habitually had each otherâs backs.
Eren brings his hand up, the one interlocked with yours to give it a soft, warm kiss. I love her. And I wonât let anything happen to her â no matter what. Y/n, Armin, Mikasa. I will protect them. Erenâs thoughts ricochet around his head, flooding his mind. And our love's the only war worth fighting for.
For a moment, time stood still. No war, no titans, nothing to worry about. Just you and Eren. Erenâs heart rate rapidly went up. Even though he had mastered his whole indifferent act, you both knew he cared about you deeply.
'Cause you already know what you mean to me.
At least, thatâs what Eren hoped.
You blink back, the moment starting to fade. Say it. Just tell her. No. The future wonât change no matter what I do. Whatâs the point?Â
Eren starts to loosen his hand from your grip, backing away from you.Â
âWe should head back,â his voice was back to being cold and stoic. He reaches for the doorknob.
Your heart clenches in your chest. This isnât right. I shouldnât let him leave, not yet. You quickly wave your thoughts, ultimately deciding to take action.
âDonât push me away, Eren!â you smack his hand away from the door handle. âEver since that day, when Historia got crowned queen, youâve acted differently. Pleaseââ
Eren shakes his head at you. âYou wouldnât understand.â
You get within an inch of his face. âThen make me understand,â you plead. âI canât just sit back and watch the guy I love push all the people who care about him away.â
âWhat.â He blinks in awe.
âI said, we care about you â â
âNo.â He shakes his head. âYou said âlove.ââ
You turn your head down while your cheeks turn red at the realization. You subconsciously confessed your feelings for Eren that youâve tried to hide for the past five years. Your heart drops to your stomach and you turn away. Thereâs no going back now.
Eren is the one to break the silence first.Â
âY/n,â he starts. âDo you really feel that way?â His voice isnât as low as it usually is. He sounds like he actually⌠cares. And for the first time in a while Erenâs smile reaches his eyes.
âYes.â
You donât know how Eren ended up shirtless or how you were in the bed wearing only your panties, but neither of you were complaining. This was a moment both of you had imagined on the few nights you got to sleep peacefully.
At some point, Eren lost the hair tie that normally keeps his beautiful hair in a bun, leaving his tresses to droop down. Above you, his mouth littered your neck with warm kisses. Those dazzling emerald eyes constantly flicking back to bore into your own.Â
Your hands wrap around his neck, landing in his hair. You pull him down until his lips taste yours. One. Two. Three soft kisses that were wet and sloppy.Â
âWould you believe me if I told you that was my first kiss?â Eren shyly admits. You smile at the confession and it warms your heart.Â
âMine too.â
âReally?â he scoffs. âI thought you and Jean ââ
âEw! No, never!â you giggle at the thought, cutting him off. âItâs always been you Eren.â
âGood.â He kisses you again, slowly this time, savoring your taste. âI feel the same.â And he really does mean it. In this world, especially being a scout, you can never know when your time will be up. Throw in a war with the rest of the world, and that just amplifies the fact any one of you could die at any time.
Eren gets greedy and you let him. Heâs in between your legs, kissing you, getting better with each kiss. Your hands still tangling in his hair until they start to travel down his brawny chest. He involuntarily grinds against you.Â
âTouch me, please,â your voice is only a whisper, but he does just that. He kisses down your neck and his warm hands travel down your sides. He breathes in your scent like heâs addicted.
He hesitates when his hands hover just above your panties. âEren?âÂ
âY/n,â he replied. âAre you sure you want this?â
You rise to your knees to be level with him. âI do,â you smile. Your hands find hisâ and you hold him. âI donât want to live with any regrets. I want to do this with you. I love you.â So I'ma love you every night like it's the last night.
The last words you hear are an âI love you too,â before his lips crash onto yours. The force of the kiss pushing you down into the bed. Erenâs above you again, taking his time to explore your body. He softly cups one of your breasts with one hand then slides down your chest with the other until he reaches your wet spot. You gasp and find yourself exploring his torso and then finally tugging at his belt.Â
Effortlessly you tug the belt off and Eren hastily slides the rest of his clothing off. You eye his semi-hardened length. I had no idea Eren would be so big⌠ you ponder.
You knew Eren was nervous with it being both your first times, you were too, but the confidence he was exuding calmed you down. He kissed your neck once again down to your breasts, taking each nipple into his mouth consecutively.Â
Eren trailed down until he reached your panties, and took the hem into his mouth. He didnât blink once, staring into your eyes as he pulled your panties down with his teeth. He jerked his head to the side to toss them into the mini-mountain of clothes you guys made.Â
Both his large hands found their way to your thighs, spreading your legs. He lowered his head in between them, loving the warmth in his new found home. He cautiously licks at your folds and you squeal.
âSorry,â you mumble. âIt feels good, Iâm just nervous.âÂ
âItâs okay. If you want to stop, just say the word.â
You answer him by pulling his head down into your legs again and he graciously laps up the wetness pooling between them. His warm hands on your sides. One. Two. Three. Four. He licks again and again and again. Itâs so messy and sloppy and extemporaneous, yet you love every feeling of his warm wet muscle against you.Â
âSo delicious,â he breathes in between his assault on your clit.
He experiments with pushing his tongue inside your folds and when you moan he knows heâs done a good job. It isnât until he starts sucking on your clit when your legs begin to shake.
If you were a dam, youâd certainly be overflowing. His constant licking, lapping, and sucking had your mind going into overdrive. If he kept this up, you would soon cum all over his face.
âI-I want you to feel good too,â you stutter out. Eren pulls back to give you an honest smile.
âHonestly, I just want to be inside you already,â he says in a low, animalistic tone. âIfâif thatâs okay with you.â
You nod to reassure him then reach for his length. He groans, jerking his head back at the sudden contact. He places his hand atop yours and jerks his cock back and forth. He guides your hand to rub the pre-cum leaking from his aggravated, reddened tip.Â
It only takes a moment before heâs fully hard and then rubbing his cock up and down your wet folds.Â
âIâve heard it hurts for women,â he divulged. âI can take it slow.â
Your heart fills overfilled with love that he would even consider that. Youâve heard many a number of horror stories from other women who hated their first time because it was so painful.
âThank you.â He kisses you then lines up at your entrance. Eren takes a deep breath then slowly pushes in. You immediately wince in pain and shut your eyes and he stops his movement.Â
âY/n, we donât have toâ â
âI want to,â you interrupt. You open your eyes to find Erenâs jade ones. Theyâre so calming. Breathe. âTry again.â This time you hold his free hand while he uses his other one to sink into you. Inch by inch Eren finally sinks all the way into your pussy. It feels like youâre being stretched in two. Breathe. Breathe. You buck your hips into him causing him to groan in your ear.Â
âFuck, y/n. Youâre so tight.â
You buck your hips up again and Eren takeâs that as a sign youâre okay to continue. He starts to pull out only to slide his cock back into you. The rhythm you set is moderate, but you both quickly find yourselves needing more.
âFaster, Eren,â you beg.
He pulls your legs further apart, giving him more space to thrust. He starts to go faster and faster until the only sound coming from the cabin is his full balls smacking against your clit and your adorable moans.
You wrap your legs around him trying to get him in deeper. Eren bucks away, fucking you so good. He suddenly gets an idea and thatâs what leads him to use one hand to start vigorously rubbing at your clit as he ruts into you. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. Erenâs green eyes start to turn black as if heâs turned into an animal.
He pushes both your legs up until theyâre above your head so he can fuck you even deeper. His cock becomes so mean. Heâs bullying your pussy, his cock reaching so deep to your cervix. Youâre so fucking full.Â
Erenâs hair is sticking to his forehead, which is slick with sweat. His muscles are flexing with every deep thrust he makes.Â
âY/n,â he murmurs. âIâm not gonna last much longer.â
âIâm close too,â you confess.
âLetâs cum together.â
He kisses you, while his pounding never relents. Again. Again. Again. He slams into you over and over and it feels so good.Â
You can hardly breathe with the deep strokes heâs giving you. Your pussy has his cock covered in your slick and juices. Itâs only a matter of seconds before he gives you that sweet release and youâre cumming on his cock.
Simultaneously, Eren gives you one last kiss before he declares, âIâm cumming baby.â
Youâre both panting heavily. Erenâs eyes gradually change back from black to grassy green. He starts to soften and begrudgingly pulls out of you. âThat wasââ
âPerfect?â
âPerfect,â he agrees.
He lays down next to you. You blink back the grogginess of sleep trying to overtake you. You rest your head atop his chest while he holds you in his arms.
âI wanna hold you just for a while,â Eren mumbles, but youâre already asleep. And for some reason, he canât stop smiling.
Eren swallowed, taking a step closer. He couldnât deny the ache in his chest, the comfort he felt from just seeing you, from hearing you speak. Was this it? Was this peace?
A laugh came from behind him. Arminâs voice.
"Eren!" Arminâs face lit up when he saw him. "You made it. I knew you would." Mikasa following quietly behind.
Eren turned to him, a sense of relief flooding him. Itâs not a dream. This canât be a dream.
"Armin, Mikasa, Y/n⌠We⌠we made it, didnât we?" Eren whispered, his voice cracking with a mix of joy and pain. "We survived."
Armin nodded, his eyes glistening. "We saved the world, Eren. We did it. We really did."
The weight of Arminâs words sank into Erenâs chest, and for a moment, the world around him seemed perfect, untouched by the chaos they had fought so hard to survive.
But as the wind picked up, Eren noticed something strange. Your smile started to waver, your features blurring at the edges. Arminâs laughter echoed like it was coming from a distance, fading.
"Waitâ" Eren stepped forward, but the ground seemed to shift beneath him. "Where are you going? Donât leave me."
The light around them began to dim, casting long shadows across the field. The flowers that had once bloomed so brightly started to wilt. The colors bled out, turning dull and muted, as though the dream itself was unraveling.
Whatâs happening? Panic gripped Erenâs heart. He reached for your hand, but you faded, your smile becoming a ghost of what it once was.
"I canât hold on any longer, Eren," You whispered, your voice growing faint. "Itâs time to let go. Goodbye."
"No," Eren breathed, his voice desperate. "Please, donât go. Iâm not ready⌠I donât want to forget."
But your form disappeared into the light, leaving only the lingering warmth of her presence behind.
"Where did you go, y/n?" His heart pounded, and his breath quickened. He turned to Armin. "Armin, tell me this isnât real. Tell me this is just a dream."
Armin opened his mouth, but his words were drowned out by a rising wind. Eren tried to hold onto the memory of Arminâs face, but it, too, started to blur. His laughter faded into the distance.
Iâm losing them. I canât lose them. Erenâs thoughts became frantic. His body trembled, and his legs gave way, but before he could collapse, he heard a faint whisper, almost like an echo. He turned, searching for Mikasa, but only saw her iconic red scarf turning to dust.
"Mikasa⌠Armin⌠Y/nâŚ"
He reached for them one last time. "Donât leave me," he begged, his voice breaking.
But they were gone.
The world around him turned black, the darkness swallowing him whole. The light from the dream faded completely, leaving only emptiness.
I fought for this. I fought for them. Erenâs last thoughts were consumed by the question he couldnât answer.
"Was I dreaming about�" he whispered into the nothingness, his voice lost in the void. "What was I dreaming about?"
And with that, everything faded to black.
A/N I donât mean to yap, but EVERY single time I hear this song, I want to burst into tears (itâs so damn good). It reminds me of AOT so fucking much. Like thereâs almost no way LG/BM didnât write this song about Eren đ I know you obviously can interpret music anyway you want to, but i genuinely believe they wrote this about Eren TâŚT Anyways, Iâm gonna go cry again, because AOT is a masterpiece and all my favorite characters are dead đŁ
<- masterlist | aot masterlist
#aot x reader#attack on titan#eren yeager#eren jaeger#eren x reader#eren aot#eren smut#eren x you#eren fluff#aot fic#aot eren#aot x female reader#eren jeager x reader#eren jeager#eren yeager x reader#divider by cafekitsune#angst#aot fanfiction#eren x y/n
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Reading the Iliad, Book 16 thoughts
This is my first time ever reading it and I know next to nothing abt greek mythology so if I interpret anything wrong by all means pls correct me
Im reading the Robert Fagles translation
Patroclus has his moment in the sun. Too bad the god of the sun doesn't like him all that much
Haven't finished the book but I'm pretty sure this is my favorite chapter
Patroclus makes it back to Achilles' tent in full-blown tears and instead of being helpful Achilles says "You're crying like a little girl clinging to her mother's skrits and that's really uncool of you."
LMAO like Achilles wasn't doing the fucking same in book one
Achilles then wonders if Patroclus has heard news back from Phthia, maybe one of their fathers dying.
Patroclus basically tells him that it's a shit show out in the camp and things are not looking good for them.
This man even gives Achilles the benefit of the doubt and asks him if there's some prophecy Achilles hasn't told him about that is barring him from fighting. Achilles is like "Agamemnon disrespected me and it's not deeper than that tbh"
Bro..
I feel like we have to give Achilles his flowers here bc if he isn't anything else he's committed to the bit THAT MAN IS NO QUITTER. In the worst way possible ofc
Achilles calls Patroclus "My PrinceđĽš" IM FINNA CRY
Then we get into the whole "Put me in your armor" thing and Homer writes Patroclus as "condemned to beg for his own death" so we love that ig
Achilles tells Patroclus to NOT fight Hector and to just push the Trojans away from the ships and to definitely NOT try to take Troy without him.
Achilles stresses that Apollo may kill Pat if he does any of those things.
Honey, you got a big storm coming..
"Sure" - Pat
Jump back to Ajax (greater) bc he's kinda on the ropes, he's tired, he's being swamped, he's struggling
Achilles sees this and he's like "Okay hurry up and get out there NOW"
Patroclus takes every piece of Achilles armor except for the shield and the spear because no man besides Achilles can even lift them
Achilles assembles the Mrymidons into 5 battalions, led by 5 men I don't feel like naming to all be led under Patroclus and Automedon
While they ride off into battle Achilles goes into a chest of his and pulls out a super nice cup, fills it with wine, and prays to Zeus while pouring it on the ground
He prays for two things: "That the Mrymidons push the enemy back AND for the safe return of Patroclus." Zeus only grants one of these wishes
Take a wild guess which oneđĽ˛
Okay so Patroclus literally kills 15 people consecutively... AS IN ONE RIGHT AFTER THE OTHER
Sarpedon sees Patroclus going wild and he decides that he really doesn't like that so he hops off his chariot and begins making his way toward Pat.
Patroclus hops off his chariot to meet him halfway
Zeus is stressed as hell bc he doesn't want his son to die so he wrestles with the urge to just sprit Sarpedon away from the battlefield and away from danger
Hera tells him that he absolutely cannot do that because all the gods will hate his ass if he pulls a move like that PLUS he changes fate which means that all the other gods would do it too
But does Ahprodite not pull that move like every other chapter? No one's up her ass about it so why can't Zeus
Zeus is literally crying tears of blood but he says ok
Sarpedon and Pat start going at each other, and both miss a couple spear of throws at each other until Patroclus picks up his spear, lunches it, and hits Sarpedon square in the chest.
Rip Sarpedon
Glaucus calls out for Apollo to heal his arm (bc Teucer shot him in it) Apollo heals him so he grabs a bunch of ppl to protect Sarpedon's body from being stripped
Patroclus goes to both Ajax's and tells them that Sarpedon is dead and that they have to get his armor/keep pushing the Trojans back.
More fighting, more dying
I noticed that Homer was actually talking to Patroclus during this book ("Patroclus O my rider, you did [insert action here]) I think this is the first time he does this so far (correct me if I'm wrong)
Anyway ppl are still fighting over Sarpedon. Zeus is watching from afar and he just can't decide when Patroclus should die but he says "Not yet"
đplease stop
The Greeks end up stripping Sarpedon's body anyway
The Trojan army is shaking in their boots bc holy shit Patroclus is kinda fucking insane rn. Even Hector wants to go home at this point
The Greeks end up pushing the Tojans ALL the way back to the walls of Troy
Patroclus tries (and fails) three times to mount one of the towers BUT Apollo is a cheater and keeps knocking him down
Homer says Troy would have been taken that day if Apollo had not intervened.
On his fourth attempt to scale this fucking tower Apollo knocks Pat away again and yells "BRO THIS ISN'T EVEN UR DESTINY GO TF AWAY." đđ wtf
"Okay my bad" - Patroclusđ§đžââď¸
Hector is inside the gates of Troy and bro does NOT wanna go back out there rn
This whole poem is just Hector not wanting to even be there and I don't blame him
Apollo comes to Hector in the form of his uncle and encourages him to get back on the battlefield bc Glory of something idk
*Sigh* so Hector rides out and makes a B-line straight for Patroclus....
Pat throws a rock at Hector which ends up hitting the guy driving his chariot right in the head and pops his fucking eyeballs out of their sockets.
Patroclus laughs at and taunts his corpse.
So now it's just Hector and Patroclus and they end up having this game of tug o war with the guy's body which the Greeks also win
Patroclus kills 27 MORE people
Apollo steps in and shit hit the fan yet again. He knocks Pat's helmet off and then starts fucking up Achilles' armor basically leaving him exposed to attack.
THEY ARE FUCKING JUMPING MY GOAT PATROCLUS
A random man throws a spear which lands in Patroclus's back and he falls forward
Hector walks up as Patroclus is trying to claw his way back to safety and stabs him in to stomach
Hector starts shit talking. And I like Hector don't get me wrong but bro you were just pissing urself about having to fight this man like a paragraph ago???
But does Patroclus go out like a bitch? NO. He looks at Hector and says "You didn't earn this kill and we both know that. TEWNTY Hectors wouldn't be able to bring me down, Apollo is the one who killed me not you and Achilles is gonna rock ur shit soon enoughâĽď¸." And Hector is like "đ¤¨?"
LIKE HELLO??? HE FUCKING ATE THAT
And then he dies
When the one character I read the book for in the first place barely had any screentime and the one time they do they end up fucking dying
Rip to the babygirl ig
#now he gets to haunt the narrative#the iliad#reading the iliad#patroclus#apollo#hector of troy#sarpedon
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remember how i said an old AU i had might be kicking my ass rn enough to make a fic?
out-of-context preview of one of the chapters i'm working on. would you guys be interested in what i've got going on here?
--
Sonic gasped, dropping to the floor and putting a hand on his chest.
âLeft yourself open.â Shadow said, dropping his own fist and rolling his shoulder. He waited a moment for the other hedgehog to recover, before holding out his hand to help him up.Â
The room was empty, aside from them. Their spars were usually supervised, but recently theyâd been getting into fighting one-on-one without the scientists present. It had started when Shadow noticed Sonic falling behind in⌠pretty much every combat test presented to him. Heâd suggested they get some extra practice in, and now here they were, meeting up whenever they got bored.
âI donât get it,â Sonic hissed, shakily getting back to his feet. âHow do you even catch me at that speed?â
âI donât. Youâre predictable, I know where youâre going to be. Soon as Iâve got a handle on your speed, I can figure out when to attack.â
âPredictable? Me?âÂ
âYou rely too much on the moves youâve been taught.â Shadow shrugged. âIn a battlefield, enemies arenât going to be challenging you to a supervised fencing match. Theyâre going to do whatever they can to kill you, so you have to do whatever you can to get to them first.âÂ
âI donât want to kill anyone.â
âYou might not have a choice.âÂ
âThis is stupid.â Sonic crossed his arms, turning to glare at the wall. âThe Professor told us that weâre meant to heal. Why do we need to train to fight, anyway?âÂ
Shadow watched him for a second. So that was another thing he hadnât been told. Trying to figure out how best to word things, he eventually settled on, âSometimes things arenât so black-and-white. Sometimes we may have to fight to defend peace.âÂ
âThat doesnât even make sense.âÂ
âA lot of things donât.â Shadow sighed again. âLook, maybe one day you wonât have a choice. Youâll have to fight or die. And Iâd rather you have blood on your hands than lose your life as pathetically as you lose every match with me.â
Sonic snorted, turning to glare at him. âIs that so, Ultimate Lifeform? You think Iâm an easy match?â
There it was. A simple challenge was enough to bring Sonic out of his funks, at least for a moment. Shadow smirked and shrugged. âI know you are. Why else are we here?â
Sonic spun, his speed carrying him quickly to the other side of Shadow, where he laid his elbow on his shoulder. âSo that one day I can kick your butt so thoroughly in tests that theyâll have to notice.âÂ
âYou can keep dreaming.âÂ
âOh yeah?â Sonic did a loop around Shadow, and then held up his fists. âHow bout a rematch right now? I try that âthinking on my feetâ kinda thing, and you try not to slap me hard enough to make me black out.âÂ
âIâm not going easy on you.â Shadow smiled. âThatâs the whole point. You learn how to match with me, you can match with anyone.âÂ
They smiled at each other for a moment. And then Sonic said, âExcept [redacted].âÂ
âOh, yeah, neither of us are beating [redacted], like, ever.â
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Sasuke is Out! Sasuke is Doing things! What will Sasuke do?! I have no idea!!! I've never gotten this far in the story before, so I have no idea how things are going from here!!!! But Sasuke is Loose!!!!!!
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Quoting this post to myself as I see Sasuke walking around and doing things. I haven't seen this guy do anything in like a hundred episodes. It's so exciting
#speculation nation#fanny watches naruto#it's so sweet seeing Suigetsu and Jugo trying to find Sasuke again#meanwhile Karin is under lock and key. yet shes playing with their expectations to her advantage#her pretending to be just the stupid sasuke obsessed girl to make them not pay attention to her#to let her keep the picture that actually contains some fucking lockpicks. crafty af#and her GLASSES??? the arm of her glasses is hiding a little secret knife?!?!! thats so cool karin wtf#i love when shes shown to be capable like this. like her sasuke fangirling was real. before.#but idk about now after he tried to kill her. he does Not deserve to keep her affections after that for Sure.#but shes still using the act. making people underestimate her. so crafty. like fuck yeah you go you funky little outlaw#i do love that shes genuinely a bitch. i hated her when i was younger bc i hated sasuke#and the fangirling still does annoy me. but shes also more than the fangirling.#shes so COOL when shes not obsessing over sasuke. i wanna see more of her!!!!!#unfortunately now i have to go back to this shit ass kage fight. really boring to me. now that sasuke's out i dont caaaaaare#it's just a bunch of OP ninja throwing rocks and shit at each other. madara literally dropped Two giant fucking meteors on the battlefield#like it was just one and it was a huge deal but tsuchikage and gaara stopped it. yay!!#but then it was such a Gradeschooler One Upping You moment where madara was like. Heh. well actually. theres Two.#and the 2nd one falls on the first and kills a bunch of people etc etc like come onnnn this isnt even fun anymore#we're just committing massive ecological damage all around#also killer bee literally PURPOSEFULLY clearing a massive section of forest for the sake of visibility#NONE of these ninja care about the environment!!!!! those poor trees and creatures!!!!!!#anytime theres some kind of poison something and they show it off by having birds or whatever die like#STOP!!!! youre killing the environment!!!!! stop it!!!!!!!!!#anyways what a show. the more ridiculously massive the fight gets the less fun it is to watch.#why should i care about guys throwing boulders at each other. Boringggg show me some people punching the shit outta each other.#THE TAIJUTSU!!!! WHERES THE TAIJUTSU!!!!! STOP WITH UR OP NINJA MAGIC SHOW ME TAIJUTSU!!!!!!!!#i also really want to see itachi. where is he. sasuke's loose now i know he teams up with itachi Where Is He....#LETS GET SOME UCHIHA UP IN THIS BITCH!!!! madara get ur pasty ass out of here and tobi stick your head in a toilet#only the uchiha BROTHERS here get those old guys OUTTA HEREEEEEEE#anywyas i actually folded some laundry while watching. wild. having fun rn
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battlefield | choi su-bong (thanos)
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ăťâĽăť summary: running into your ex boyfriend during the squid games was the last thing you expected ăťâĽăťword count: 719 ăťâĽăťwarnings: uh... usual squid game stuff. ăťâĽăť authors note: this is a short one just to test the waters but im obsessed with this man after watching squid game 2 <333
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There he was. The last person youâd ever expected to see in this place. Player 230. Choi Su-Bong or, as the world knew him as, Thanos. The bright purple hair had been easy to spot. The last few months had been spent avoiding him so why did fate want to throw you together in this place? Wherever the hell this place was. You still werenât even sure but as you walked up the stairs to the first game, you didnât really care. All you wanted to do was lay low and make sure that Thanos didnât see you. A conversation with your ex boyfriend was the last thing you wanted.
Things had ended badly between the two of you when heâd lost all his money thanks to the crypto scam. It had changed him, turned him into someone you didnât recognise anymore so when the arguments started and his behaviour became erratic, you knew you had to get out of there. So, you did. You left and had never looked back. All you wanted was enough money to get out of the city and far, far away. There was nothing here for you anymore. If you could win the games then you could finally start fresh somewhere.
Walking through the doors onto a floor of sand and brightly coloured walls, you heard the voice of Thanos talking to his friend. Instantly, you looked down at the ground, hoping he didnât see you. Unfortunately for you, he had stood next to you. His eyes scanned your face before recognition lit his eyes up.
âSenorita!â He said in a sing-song voice, wide grin on his face as he outstretched his arms. âWhat are you doing here? Come on, give me a hug.â
âNone of your business and no thanks,â you rolled your eyes.
âIâm hurt,â he splayed his hand on his chest over his heart. As much as he was using his confident swagger to irritate you, deep inside he couldnât be more glad to see you. âNot even going to give me a chance to talk, huh? Thatâs stone cold.â
As the rules of the game echoed through the speakers, he couldnât take his eyes off you. His hand had raised to his friend to stop him from talking to him so he could get a proper look at you. When you had left, that had been the breaking point for him. Everything had gone downhill from there. For so long heâd been trying to seek you out, to apologise but he knew youâd been avoiding him. Your friends wouldnât tell him where you were, your family had chewed him out the second he had showed up on their doorstep so, eventually, heâd given up. But, here you were.
As Player 456 shouted out about the game being a lie and that you were going to die, your head shot up. Surely he couldnât be telling the truth, right? Red Light, Green Light was a childrenâs game. At most you were probably going to be out of the running for the cash if you were caught moving.
âHeâs crazy,â Thanos said. It was his way of trying to comfort you. He had instantly noticed the slight panic in your eyes, the way you were rubbing your hands against your thighs. âDonât listen to him.â
All you could do was nod but there was a gut feeling inside you telling you that maybe it wasnât entirely all crazy talk. Something about this whole thing felt off. Your eyes caught some girl talking, her hands waving around then suddenly she was on the ground. Instantly, fear gripped you, your stomach dropping. The room around you started to spin â you were really going to die here.
âHey, hey,â Thanos had reached out, his hand gripping yours as he stood in front of you, back to you. âStay behind me. I wonât let anything happen to you. You hear me? Stay behind me.â
âBut⌠what ifâŚâ The sheer panic in your voice made his heart clench.
âNo. Weâre both getting out of here alive, okay? Now, stay behind me.â His protective instinct had kicked in. Right now, he didnât care if you hated him. All he cared about was making sure you survived this so maybe, just maybe, he could finally make things right.
#thanos x reader#choi su-bong x reader#choi seunghyun#squid game x reader#t.o.p#squid game#thanos#choi su bong
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Part one
â..go out with meâ
Your breathing hitched, indicating that you hadnât been asleep all this time. You turned to face him then, flipping on your side in his bed to get a better look at his face. Even in the dark you could see the strong outline of his jaw and his messy blonde hair. He stared up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head, and shrugged. âI mean, why not? Weâre practically dating anywaysâ he followed up, vermillion eyes glancing down at you. âAny reason youâre asking me this now?â You whispered, moving slowly as you shifted closer to place your head on his chest.
This time, his breath stuttered.
Moving slowly, as if you were a flighty deer ready to run at any moment, he moved his hand from behind his head to on top of yours. His fingers gently played in your hair. He breathed a shaky breath, completely stripped of his usual hard shell. He was completely vulnerable to you in this moment. âWhen I was lying there on the battlefield..all I could think about was your stupid face.â He grimaced, stiffening a bit at the memory. You placed a hand on his chest, tracing circles with your thumb. He exhaled with a shaky breath. âI was bleeding out, all these fucking holes in me, and one of the only things I could think of was how angry I was at myself for not being able to man up and ask you out properly. I waited too long and everythingâs a mess now. The city is a fucking wreck, weâre on lockdown..and I had a whole plan too. I was gonna take you to that noodle shop you like with the stupid name. And now I canât, because itâs too late and now I might fucking die before I ever got the chance-â
You pressed a soft kiss to the new scar that peaked out from his black tank top, causing his words to get stuck in his throat.
âTake a breath..â you told him softly. He obeyed, breathing in air and blowing out his tension.
âItâs okay, B. Youâre okay. I was mad too. I was so mad at myself for not being able to protect you when you got hurt, not being able to move a little bit faster and push you out of the way. I was mad that you might die before I got the chance to tell you how much I like you..â he smirked at your words, smug covering up his giddiness. âYou like me?â You scoffed, rolling your eyes and moving to shift away from him out of feigned annoyance. But he wrapped an arm around you waist and pulled you closer.
âI like you too nerdâŚa fucktonâ
You couldnât help but smile, sinking deeper into his hold as you breathed him in. And for a moment, you felt untouchable in here. Despite the looming threat of war, the scorching flames of the world outside, you were safe in his arms. You wished you could stay like this forever. A yawn left you as your eyes began to droop, and time seemed to come to a slow stop.
It was silent for a moment, as you both began to drift off before a question came into your mind. Despite your drowsy state, you couldnât help but smile as you asked
ââŚso if you like me, does that mean youâll admit that Oodles of Noodles is a fantastic name for a noodle shop-â
âGo to sleep, shithead.â
ââââââ
Ps: im starting to do requests! So if you have an idea for me, go ahead and put it in my asks <3
#mha#mha fic#boko no hero academia#bakugo x black reader#bnha x reader#katsuki bakugo mha#mha headcanons#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugo x female reader#bakugo x gender neutral reader#bakugo katsuki#mha bakugou#bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader fluff#bakugo katuski#bakugo x reader fic#Bakugo x reader one shot#katsuki x y/n#bakugo x y/n#bakugo x you#katsuki x reader#katsuki x you
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There was a boy walking towards the invading army.
There was a civilian child walking towards the invading army from the infinite realms lead by their tyrannical ruler. The Justice League tried to stop force their way through, save the boy.
Instead of that, however, they were blocked by multiple ghosts, all hellbent on not leaving them alone. Superman tried to get close to the kid? Piles upon piles of ghosts knocked him back. Wonder Woman? The same thing happened.
The thing was, that wasn't even the ground army who did it. But the ones in the sky.
So the kid was walking towards an entire army by himself. One hellbent on taking over Earth and have no qualms about ending the short life of a human boy.
Instead of watching a child die, a life they failed to save. Something else happened.
The army parted for him.
Just as Moses parted the Red Sea, the same happened with the ghosts. They made a clear-cut line for him to walk straight towards their king with no obstacle, even clearing the way of anything that could pose as one.
Again, the Justice League tried to go down to drag the boy away, only to again be denied by the ghosts flying through the sky. Only to stop chasing as soon as they retreated a certain distance.
The ghosts stood still, and only moved as they got close, unlike their previous acts of causing havoc and mayhem. So, the Justice League, as much as they didn't want too, stood still and watched.
The boy stood at a stop before the king, painfully tiny in comparison to the massive ghostly tyrant standing before him with his arms crossed.
"Yo, dad." The boy said, and the Justice League froze in shock.
===
"Yo, dad." Danny lifted a hand up in greeting, before dropping that hand to rub at his neck. "Funny seeing you here, I guess."
"Phantom..." Pariah Dark's voice was soft yet booming and seemed to echo throughout the battlefield. "We meet once again on the field of battle, come to challenge me again, little one? Without your armor, no less?" Pariah tilted his head to the side slightly, questioning.
"Oh that? Yea that got destroyed ages ago," Danny shrugged, as if not having it didn't bother him at all. "Parents couldn't exactly, you know, finish it. Plus, they had other things to work on, so they just decided to scrap the thing altogether." He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged again. "So, yea..."
Pariah looked the boy over, his eyes hardening and he clicked his tongue at what he saw.
"You come here, not with armor," Pariah began, strength in his voice and a fire (literally) in his eyes. "Nor a weapon, or a shield, and no allies of any kind-"
"Well those guys are there" Danny pointed behind him, straight at the Justice League.
"-Walk up to a hostile force with no gauge of their strength." But Pariah just barreled on as if the Justice League were an afterthought. "And face their leader and do not expect to come to harm!?" The Ghost King scowled, and the Justice League tensed.
But just tilted his head slightly. "Well, are you going to harm me?" He asked.
Pariah Dark blinked, then whispered. "I could, child. I could kill you." He put a strong emphasis on the word kill.
"You could," Danny nodded. "But are you going to hurt me?"
The Ghost King remained silent, but his gaze intensified.
Danny shrugged, this time with a smile. "See? You wouldn't hurt me so it's fine. Ya big softie."
Pariah's scowl intensified. "I am not soft, child."
"Oh really?" Danny leaned forward and his smile took on a more playful edge. "Then what's you're reason for visiting Earth, hmmmm?"
"To wage war and fight against this world's mightiest heroes." The Ghost King answered quickly.
"Annnnnnnd?"
The king remained silent for a moment and Danny stepped forwards before he face planted onto concrete. "C'mon, dad. Tell me the other reason you came here." Danny crossed his arms, mimicking the Ghost King's pose.
They stared each other in the eyes for a moment, before Pariah looked off the side with green dusting his cheeks. "You have not visited in 50 years, son..." He whispered, but everyone heard it.
"Hah! Knew you missed me!" Danny said shamelessly with a satisfied and smug smile.
"And your father forced me out of the realms because I upset him." Small embers started igniting themselves on the tips of the king's hair.
Silence echoed over the battlefield, before Danny burst out laughing. Pariah Dark's hair fully exploded into green fire as he reached a hand to cover his face. "Of course, alongside the shameless and cheekiness, you get Clockwork's sense of humor as well..."
The Ghost King, at least this very moment, seemed more and more like a tired dad than some fearsome, tyrannical Ghost King.
#dc x dp#dp x dc#dpxdc#dp x dc crossover#dcxdp#dc x dp crossover#pariah dark#dp dark ages#dp darkages#darkages#ghost prince danny
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âââââââ   deliverance's right hand  ⌠â¸â¸
           ⌠ âđ  honkai: star rail   â   phainon  .á        âââŻ
đâ warnings. ooc-phainon ( written before pre-release ), very much word vomit    â    notes. phainon yearning so bad i made a fic when he first appeared during the last last livestream.Â
           âââ art credits. hoyoverse    â     tags.  @starcharmed @mikashisus @https-sourlimes @dazaisms @powchakko @pneumosia ; if you'd like to be tagged please fill out the forms in my pinned post !!
                                 ๨ৠthe nameless king, phainon â historians can only wonder what your relationship was with amphoreus' king.
a nameless new king who ascended to the throne andbrought new heroes with him is sure to be written down in history. with a silver blade and its golden hilt shining under the sunlit battlefields, soldiers and enemies alike revel in his glory. even as the sky turned red and the black tides beckoned, deliverance was always there to keep them at bay.Â
his mission was simple and sound, freeing this world of the darkness that consumed his home. one would say he was a foolish boy for daring to draw a sword against a god when he was only but a child, but his right hand man would argue it was his destiny to protect. with the attack so sudden and their heroes falling, people could not help but feel their hope flicker out and die. and you? you stayed close by the future kingâs side, shaking hands clutching at his bloodstained shawl as he fought with a dull blade meant for training. but despite all the fear and red stained hopelessness, you still chose to remain by his side, and you wouldnât have it any other way.
even at his coronation, he dared to refuse the crown if you were not by his side. what a rude child he was to ask the king for a nobody like you to help him get dressed, but he made no complaint. this child, with white hair that glistened like snow in winter and eyes like the oceans reflecting a sunrise view, phainon was this worldâs new kingâtheir new hero. and you would be his trusted right hand.
the people cheered when he took the palaceâs balcony. stretches upon stretches of miles filled with his now citizens as they cheered and chanted his name like a prayer. âall hail the new king!â âin the name of deliverance!â these words fell deaf in his ears when his eyes trailed off the side, eventually settling on your figure draped in clothing you were uncertain to wear. hidden by the dancing curtains and the afternoon sun hitting your skin while your hair was decorated with a golden laurel wreath. you were his right hand man. you were his. and phainon thought, âmaybe being a king wasnât too bad after all.â
and as the years went by and more wars emerged, people grew doubtful. but not you. no, never you. in spite of all the bloodshed, you were patient with your care and assistance. rubbing off the blood that stained his body, or how you tend to the sword heâs used recklessly, you were never once swayed with the masses questioning. youâd still greet him warmly by the palace gates, help him settle in bed and let you treat him as if he were a child. to you, maybe he wasâhe grew up too fast, putting the worldâs responsibilities on a plate meant for childhood games and dreams.
âare you not afraid?â he ends up asking one night as he laid in his bed. one whole arm wrapped in tight bandages as you folded his clothes by the bedâs edge. you turn to him curiously, the innocence of your childhood still in the glimmers of your eyes but it never glazes with ignorance. phainon thinks you are an angel sent from above in this lightâface half illuminated by the candle in his room, his cape at your lap, and the clothing that was distinctively made to match his. in this light you were utterly and wholly his.
âof what?â you asked in return. a soft smile tugging at your lips as you move closer to him. your hand brushed with his and phainon is struck with fear the enemy could ever place on him.Â
the king wonders. quietly and introspectively. completely to himself but still bare to you. âare you not afraid of me?â
and to his surprise, you laugh. heâs bewildered beyond imagination as his mind races with thoughts he could not fully process. âwhy are you laughing?â he asked with a furrow of his brows. hand twitching under your hold as if youâve held him captive against his will. but deep down in his heart, phainon would not mind to be your poor servant if it meant seeing you every second of the day.
âit was a silly question, thatâs all.âÂ
something changed in the way you looked at him that night. because the following day, and the day after that, and until the end of the month, you looked at him gently. that he was far more valuable than any life on this planet. the look of what he assumed was love. and he replies by giving you the same look, but with actions instead.Â
he is still a kingâa soldier meant to fight in war and not a lover meant to be in your holdâbut he wanted to be yours, too. phainon didnât want to claim you as his because you wake him up with gentle humming, settle him on the dining table with meticulous meals to satiate his unusual pickiness, or because you treat the clothing heâs deemed a curse like a part of his being that needs to be cherished. no, no, that was unbefitting of your grace and level.Â
you deserved to be drowned in your favorite flowers, a dance partner under the starry night, and a future monarch that his home already loves. without meaning to, you and the nameless king of heroes have eloped to becoming lovers outside prying eyes. anyone would notice how king phainon had stars in his eyes whenever you walked in the room, how he always reached for your hand like how he did with his sword, or whenever he sought you out first during every gala or ball. you were already each otherâs without having to say it or even act on itâloving has become as easy as breathing.
some historians will argue that you were only the kingâs right hand, always there to serve as a clear voice in his cloudy mind. but others would argue you were more his lover, partners for eternity with entwined souls. but to phainon, you were more than these two thingsâyou were his deliverance, a sanctuary in this exhausting world.
Š vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.
#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#âstellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail x you#hsr x you#( đĄ ) â royal flush of stories .á#phainon x reader#phainon x you#phainon hsr
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đ âARMOUR-CLAD HEARTâ ďž MYDEI. HONKAI STAR RAIL
gn reader ďž words 0.9k ᯽ mydei teaches you some self-defence. reader is not made for fighting and rather weak. an awkward display of affection from mydeiâs side lol ďž no proofreading, we die like kremnoans ᯽ FLUFF ďž GENERAL CONTENT ᯽
You hear a displeased click of his tongue â nothing surprising given your stance and previous pathetic tries at blocking his fist â and take a step back with your face embarrassingly hot. His fake hit was nowhere near fast nor strong, just a mere presentation of where such an attack would come from and land at the end.
âYouâd be dead within a second on the Strifeâs battlefield. Or perhaps should I even say that a mere thug would get through your defence with little to no preparation?â Mydeiâs gaze moves all over you in a judging way, and it takes your every strength not to look away.
âIâm not made for battle! You wouldnât see me anywhere near it. Itâs just way too hot today to focus.â
Another loud âtchâ escapes his lips, now much more annoyed and agitated than before, as if he has already completely given up on any hope for you. A blazing sun over the terrace is no excuse to stop the lesson, or perhaps itâs precisely because of its presence.
âSurely someone with an ill intent would wait for you to be comfortable and well prepared for their arrival, am I correct?â He snickers in a sarcastic tone, leaving a short pause to give you another opportunity to oppose him.
But again, this time not only is his attitude towards you harsh and insulting, but his words make complete sense, and they burn with embarrassment even more than the scorching heat that surrounds both of you.
Maybe youâre simply spineless and will forever be even under his tutoring. You bite your lip, trying not to appear weaker than you already are, knowing very well that there will be absolutely no use in defending yourself anymore. But it doesnât matter now. What does he plan to do next?
Your body tenses up out of reflex only seconds before his warm palm wraps around your arm, turning you around effortlessly while pressing your back against his own chest. An uncontrolled gasp leaves your mouth as you are left immobilised in an instant and the forced proximity feels even hotter than midday, yet the one behind you pays no mind to it, completely focused on keeping you in place.
âMost people would assume you cannot get out of this hold unless youâre physically stronger than the aggressor.â
You feel every slight breath he makes pressing harder on you. Not to mention how his voice sends pleasant shivers down your spine by being so close to your ear. All the discomfort disappears the second a faint memory reappears in the most unexpected of places. The way he holds you reminds you of something entirely different from sparring.
Curse your mind, it doesnât help to focus at all and itâs especially shameful when Mydeiâs not affected; calm and composed, with a fiery spark running along the red marks on his body.
âYouâll most likely always have a free hand or two. Instead of wriggling them mindlessly, use one to press on the bottom of your opponentâs nose or even punch them. The nose is always sensitive, even under the slightest pressure.â He eases the grip around your body and demonstrates what he just said and although he doesnât apply force at all when bringing his knuckle above your cupidâs bow, you squirm involuntarily in an attempt to escape.
But since he never lets go of your other arm, thereâs nowhere to run.
âNow, try it yourself.â Yet instead of waiting for your move, his hand â armoured in golden claws, a trap for your smaller palm â grabs yours and brings it behind towards his face. You peek over your shoulder, a little afraid.
To add on top of everything, he is as serious about this sparring lesson as ever, not paying attention to the closeness between your bodies. The red lines decorating his chest seem brighter than usual, with sweat glistening along his collarbones and hair dishevelled by the breeze.
Your heart skips a beat in anticipation when you are almost certain heâs about to kiss your fingers instead, but in the last second, he inches away and brushes them against the underside of his nose. âHere. Remember this.â
âIâm sure that my enemy wonât navigate my hand towards their weak spot.â A shaky sigh of disappointment escapes your lips.
He chuckles lowly at your comment, raising the corner of his mouth in a sardonic smile.
âYouâd rather aim blindly than focus on where and what to attack? Youâve just earned the disapproval of the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos.â He moves in front of you, abruptly pausing all physical contact. âBe thankful that Iâm not only willing to teach you how to defend yourself but also for that I will protect you with my own strength as long as youâre near.â
He pushes a damp strand of hair out of your face, the lightest touch of his bare finger causing more tingles to travel down your spine. At the same time, he flinches when realising what he has done and lets his hand drop to his side; the victorious glint in his golden eyes changes to bewilderment. His armour rattles at the subtle gesture of humanity and betrayal of his emotionless posture.
âWeâll practice again until you gain the approval from me. Do not expect me to be lenient.â The heat spreading on your cheeks becomes a problem only after Mydei finishes the sentence and moves away with haste, surely caused by his discomfort.
A gentle breeze runs through the illuminated terrace and cools your skin. You watch him walk away without turning around (you wish he would). This feeling of shame mixes with admiration and unadulterated curiosity to stir up something completely bizarre in your heart.
A pomegranate-sweet infatuation with the prince.
#writing.#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#honkai star rail fluff#hsr x reader#hsr x you#hsr fluff#mydei x reader#mydei x you#mydei fluff
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Kicking my feet and twirling my hair at your yandere KĂśnig and Ghost headcanonsđ could I request some headcanons on how they'd react at escape attempts/successful escapes please?
Of course! Thanks for requesting! âĽ
ââââââââ ⥠ââââââââÂŤÂŤ
KĂśnig
⥠One word: panic. It's not a slowly developing feeling, either. When he can't find you in your room, his stomach twists as he waltzes into the bathroom instead. At this point, his pulse begins ringing in his ears, and his breaths come out as slow pushes of air. KĂśnig realizes how wrong his home feels, how there's no sign of you there, and the panic that overcomes him is just about to explode like a grenade on the battlefieldâit builds up and then peng! It's too quiet, too cold, and the thought of you having left is one of pure horror. If anyone would measure his tension, his body would break all means of detecting it, every muscle so taut they could snap at any given moment, and every one of his movements deliberate and deadly. KĂśnig tries to think about what he's done wrong and why you'd do this to him, but he manages to push these thoughts aside for later. He needs to focus, needs to keep his wits up. Part of him hopes you didn't leave him because you wanted to. Another part hopes very much that you weren't forced to leave him just to spare you from the horrors that you could possibly encounter because of that. Then again, if someone was as bold as to kidnap you, KĂśnig would at least have an outlet for all the rage, frustration, and madness he is feeling; the thought of breaking some bones suddenly so tempting.
⥠And yet, KÜnig is never more in control than in moments like this. Despite his panic and anxiety about losing you, he could never concentrate better than now that he has to get you back. And he has to; he needs to. Needs you. His life is meaningless without you in it, and he needs to cradle you in his arms and know you're okay just so he can fucking breathe again. He has his means of finding out where you are and is not shy about using them. You'll come to dread the day you got stalked by someone so big and tall that it should have been impossible. But once he's behind you, your escape is over, and with it, any other possibility that you'll ever be able to try again. If he has to put you in an underground bunker, tied up and unable to do anything without him, then so be it. But KÜnig can't lose you again. He might as well die if you ever manage to get away. Ultimately, it will be his tense, unyielding hands dragging you back, even as he coos sweet promises into your ear. That everything will be okay now, that he'll protect you. But he'll be much more possessive and needy after your attempt, and you only have yourself to blame for what he's going to do with you once he has you back in the safety of his arms.
Ghost
⥠Physically, you might already be far, far away from Ghost. Yet, you can still feel his disappointment and hear him sigh, even if it's all just subconsciously. There's something especially bitter about the fact he went out to get you some nice food you like, thinking about how much he'll enjoy watching you eat it on his way back and imaging the taste on your lips as he steals kisses from you, only to come back to this. Nothing. Emptiness and the remains of his heart getting shredded by explosive bangs of heartache. He thought things were improving between you two, but that escape was on him. He shouldn't have trusted you quite this much, though it really fucking hurts that you did it. He's been good to you, hasn't he? Loved you well, fucked you well, spent all his damn money to make you comfortable. You can run all you want, but you can't deny the few times you leaned in for a cuddleâeven if it was subconsciouslyâor asked him for something, and he got it for you without thinking twice. You might think running is the right option, but are you even aware of what you're running away from? By all means, he was a perfect partner (aside from forcing you into this relationship, but it was for the greater good of you both being together). And yet, you'd betray him like this. Run away when things get rough. When they aren't up to your standards. Ghost must have spoiled you rotten, eh? Pity because he won't make the same mistakes twice.
⥠Ghost doesn't need anyone or anything to track you down. He might have a tracker on you, part of him always admiring your rebellious nature and knowing the day would come, but he knows you. He knows you too well. He studied your thoughts like no one else, perhaps knowing even better than you what you're thinking. And though he's gripping the steering wheel of the car he's using to catch up to you, to the point of either his fingers or the material they're wrapped around cracking, when he does find you, he's eerily calm. He knew the way you'd run, knew which bushes you'd hide behind, and now that he caught up, you really have no choice but to surrender. Ghost wouldn't let you win in a fight on his good days, much less days ruined by your idiocity. So you can choose to get in defeatedly or have him drag you into the car with no guarantee he won't hurt you. It's not like your tears leave him cold. The dead look on your face or how you jerk when he brushes your hair back, feeling like ice picks stabbed into his heart. He hates arguing with you. He hates being angry with you. It's on you this time, though. But at least, if you're cooperative, the only way he'll let you know how mad he is, is by holding your thigh in his hand on the drive, gripping it painfully rigid as he drives you two back, thinking about whether or not to break your leg as a lesson. No promises on if he will act on these thoughts, thoughâyou really messed up this time and deserve the lesson, don't you? Better start appeasing him before you get home, and he gets to have you all to himself again, just like he always wanted.
#kĂśnig#yandere kĂśnig#yandere!kĂśnig#ghost#yandere ghost#yandere!ghost#kĂśnig cod#ghost cod#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#yandere scenarios#yandere fanfiction#yandere writing#yandere stories#yandere oneshots#yandere oneshot#yandere drabble#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#Yandere TW#cod#call of duty#yandere cod#yandere call of duty#yandere!cod#yandere!call of duty
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The Silent Stars Go By
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/8b5bb2f8bb09980e7055f3308c62351f/f2ed93d4d9c2ea0f-27/s540x810/c350bc5147d403569fad1b2f2752a68c99614d3b.jpg)
On the night of October 31st, Nanami Kento feels his death approaching. Knowing you are on the battlefield with him, and knowing he cannot die without showing you how he feels, he seeks you out...and subverts destiny.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, "last night on Earth" smut, truly desperate, frantic, semi-public, Shibuya ending rewrite
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Nanami Kento knew he was to die, on October 31st.
He was no arithmancer. A pragmatist at heart with a mathematical streak, he had, however, carried his barely living friend to safety, found the bodies of many others, punched a young man to death, and lived to tell the tale. The numbers divined great danger ahead, and, by the time a pink-feathered songbird had sung the perish song of Satoru Gojo, Kento could not deny the maths.
Kento could suddenly see no distant future for himself, as he once could. And yet between then, and now, there was one stark similarity; what future Nanami Kento did see, contained only you.
Behind his eyes flashed a montage of memory-- of midnight laughter-filled dinners at the Konbi. Of shielding you in battle, and you shielding him in return. Of you sitting on his lap, stitching his wounds with utmost care, before your reverse-cursed technique had fully developed. Of falling in love with you, and denying himself joy for believing he may give you none.
Being around you was agony. Being away from you was worse.
"I'll be heading underground," he had intoned to Nitta and Nobara, taking in their girlish features for the last time with a stab through his belly, "after I catch up with someone. Stay safe. Don't sacrifice yourself."
He was a hypocrite. He knew this. He would walk to the gallows, proud, if only he could take you in his arms and cry his love for you, first.
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Looking out over the city, having heard Yuuji's cries for 'Nanamin' only a few minutes earlier, you did not know you were being desperately searched for by Kento. You had determined yourself to find and follow Yuuji, the boy without protection.
The night breeze whipped at you, unhindered by walls and trees, on the roof of one of Shibuya's tallest buildings. Turning to leave, you felt a familiar warmth approaching. The man you loved opened the stairwell door, squeaking on its pivot.
Missing his suit jacket and tie, with his sleeves rolled up, he thrummed with raw, uncontained power. Something feverish stormed within his eyes as he looked to you. His steps were slow, and considered. The quiet calm of his voice was deliberate, soft.
"Kento, what...what are you doing here? Is that blood? Oh god, you're bleeding-- let me heal you--"
"Stop. It isn't mine. Just listen for a moment."
"Isn't yours? Then one of the others? We should get them to Shoko--"
"--I need you to listen, now--"
"--we haven't got any time--"
"I love you." The air fell still; a puff of blossom in suspended animation. You had not realised you were holding your breath until Kento's steps caught up to you, and his hands grasped yours. A melancholic certainty rolled off him. Flicks of blond fell over his forehead, that fervour still gripping him; gripping you.
"I love you. You are the purest truth I know. The warmest light. Anything I am, and anything I could have been, is at your mercy, and always has been."
The gut-churning adrenaline you had felt for the fever-pitch of battle was suppressible, before Kento's impassioned promise. That dam broke inside you, and the terror and adoration and injustice heaved out of you in one great sob. You needed his body flush to yours. Public decency took a back seat. So many years of restraint and doubt slid away.
You looped your arms around Kento's neck, one hand grasping his shoulders, and the other sinking into the back of his hair. Kento almost broke, himself, but couldn't; not yet. He had to show you. Needed to show you.
You felt him pull your head away from his shoulder, and you resisted, until his fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head. You were nose to nose. You could feel his heart booming in his chest, fresh from a fight you had not witnessed.
"If this is my last chance," Kento whispered, his nose stroking yours, "will you let me take it?"
"...what...what do you know...that I don't? Kento--"
"Please." Kento growled, his teeth gritted. You felt the twitching contractions of his belly, his hardening cock pressing against you. You couldn't resist his need to control this, and take what he needed, even if you wanted to. Your breaths ached in your chest. Silent, glossy-eyed, you nodded.
Kento broke, possessing your lips in one shuddering kiss. His hands and body squeezed at your softly yielding hips, all-consuming, trying to overfill himself with any scrap of you he could take. He dominated the kiss completely, selflessly, as thoughtlessly altruistic as he had always been. He groaned, panting through the taste of you, his tongue sliding against yours. His cock wept inside his boxers-- it was all too much too much but not enough--
You mewled, little hands gripping onto his collar, sending thunder to Kento's core. Kento pulled away, cursing, feeling the need to know the scars that pleasure etched upon your skin. You were scorched by his touch, too pliable now to do anything but bend to his insistence.
In blood and brutality you sought each other, beacons in the night with stars as your witness. They looked on, disinterested, as if fate held any regard for the lives of mortals, over gods.
With time as his final remaining enemy, Kento pulled you to his lap, sitting with his back against the low wall overlooking the city. He knew for whom the bell tolled. He would see his duty done before the final chime, and he stared into you in your entirety. Though neither a painting nor an ivory box, he handled you with kid gloves.
You straddled his lap, unbuttoning his shirt, and he whispered, groaning and bucking up against your clothed sex as he watched your nimble fingers press his opened shirt apart. Running your hands in reverence down his bared chest and belly, he could not have loved you more than when he saw his own desperation reflected back at him.
In another life-- in any other world-- I--
He lifted you, enough for you to kick your jeans and underwear off, his teeth bared to feel your core press against his aching cock. He spoke through your kisses, a fractured sentence punctuated by his apologies.
"I didn't-- didn't prepare-- no protection-- I can't-- can't stop-- please don't make me stop." He begged, reaching down to hook his cock out. You silenced him with one hand wrapped around his rigid length, and Kento stilled with a hiss.
--take you to dinner first, I'd show you the world-- fill you with its beauty before I fill you with mine--
"Don't care--" You insisted against his neck, "--don't care...need to feel you." Kento almost sobbed with relief to feel you hold him, stroking the head of his cock between your glistening folds. You let his cockhead and slit catch over your clit, shivering, intoxicated by the way he watched you with one hand splayed across your belly, the other on your hip, and blown pupils. He bucked his hips, needy, full of baleful possession.
--and we'd have a Victorian glasshouse with a garden you'd love-- and you'd plant wildflowers while I do the laundry--
Grasping your hips with a snarl as you stroked his cockhead down, Kento impaled you downwards onto him, the moment his cock notched at your entrance. You squeaked, pussy clenching with the sudden blissful invasion, your squirming making you sink lower. Kento felt a telltale throb of impending orgasm in his belly, and he was certain if you clenched one more time--
Your pussy full to the brim, you instinctively bucked downwards. Feeling Kento belly-deep, his trembling fingers dropped to your clit, and you felt Kento's abs twitching beneath your splayed hands. Feeling two clever fingers bracketing your clit and rolling from side to side, you squeezed him, milking his cock and locking him inside you.
--all the late nights and early mornings and train rides and arguments in sickness and health for richer for poorer--
"--love you-- I love you too." You sobbed into his chest, loose and warm against him. Kento saw stars, coming with a shout, thick ropes of cum spurting into you. Looking up at the euphoric agony on his face, and his fingertips bruising your ass as they pinned you down around him, satisfied you spiritually, in a way so alien to you.
You rolled your hips, drinking down every part of him. The long, powerful contractions of his cock inside you, his stilted low moans, his gasps of pleasure as your tight gloved heat continued to stroke him. Starved for him, desperate for more, you rode Kento to frantic overstimulation.
--so unfair this is so unfair, die for you like you'd die for me like I'd die for you like you'd die for me--
You realised with a happy squirm that he hadn't yet removed his glasses or harness. With his shirt trapped against his shoulders, and his lens steamed, fucking upwards and thrashing his head from side to side beneath you, you couldn't stop yourself. You felt the fullness of his creamy load still plugged deeply inside you, and pushed hard against him. Kento cursed, paralyzing you with a hushed roar of agony, and a hand grasping your throat.
"--asked you to make love to me-- not kill me-- but shit, if this is how we go, just take me with you-- take me with you--"
His fingers had never left your clit, now rolling it insistently, until you were the one wriggling and desperate. Still being stuffed with his cock and cum made your pleasure three-dimensional, and Kento's half-hard length began to stir to life again, still high off the adrenaline of punching a man to death. He growled at you with gritted teeth.
"--beautiful...good girl...not done with you yet...shit, keep it in, keep it all in...take me with you...please--"
With half lidded eyes, you grasped Kento's forearm. His hand still braced you with exquisite tenderness around the throat, a necklace instead of a noose. His second hand worked frantically against your clit while you moaned and begged above him, still speared on his cock, feeling him lengthen and thicken again inside you. You whimpered and keened, and Kento committed you to memory, just like this. He would close his eyes in his final moment, and see you, breaking like spun sugar above him, no sweeter sound than his name on your lips.
--bake for you on Sundays, and the bread would always burn, because we'll be too busy--
Kento continued stroking you, pressing kisses onto your forehead as he guided you down from your high. Cautiously starting to roll his hips up again, he moaned at the slick sucks of his cock sliding through his cum and yours. Unthreading his shirt through his harness, Kento threw it to the ground, before lying you down on top of it.
Otherwise fully dressed, with dried stains of blood rusted over his chest and back, Kento bore over you like a vengeful god. Here to take his spoils, he still handled you like glass, resting your head on one of his planted forearms, with a hand under the small of your back to protect you from the floor.
"...I've wanted you for so long-- you don't even know--"
"I knew." Kento faltered. His anguish at leaving you for certain death sharpened, with the sudden knowledge of past chances untaken. His heart clenched, aching down his arms, steeling himself. He couldn't help but lean into your hand, cupping his jaw.
Nuzzling his nose to yours, Kento melted at your smile twinkling up at him. He smiled back, suddenly bashful, lopsided with crinkling eyes, before biting down on one lip and slamming his cock down into you. Your gasp shook through you, clawing into the harness across his chest and shoulders, hearing Kento swear with pleasure at the intensity of a second round.
Kento barely pulled out, wrapped in your arms and tight cunt. He almost spat with anger at the simultaneous need to savour you, and the need to leave, knowing he could not have both. Duty to you held the greater weight and, feeling another orgasm creep through his back and balls far too quickly, he slowed.
Completely engulfed by the enormity of him, you stared up at Kento, made submissive under his emotional insistence, the thick aching stretch of him sheathed inside you. Your back arched off the ground with a guttural moan when Kento slowed, dragging himself through your core from ball to tip in long, languid thrusts, the whole length of his cock glistening with gluey white seed.
He swore he could feel every ridge of you, the mind-altering bend of his cock as it moulded to the curve inside you. He needed you to carry the shape of him forever, an unremovable flesh-memory. Something had changed in him as you carded your fingers through his hair, whispering praises to him, to try to hold him together.
Kento looked drunk. His eyes were distant and hyperfocused all at once, his breaths and groans gruff, his voice gravelly with emotion as his mouth muffled against your shirt.
"--sorry, I...can't move my hands...hurt you, I--" Kento grasped your shirt between his teeth, ragging his head from side to side with a growl to lift it up over your breasts. He did the same to your bra, gripping the cups to yank your breasts free. They bounced out, full and peaked under his hot, frantic breaths.
Kento nosed at them, pulling his cock from you slowly, only to slam back into you with enough force to leave you writhing and whimpering. His mouth and nose played with your breasts, nudging, sucking and biting, hungry and obsessive. Something primal glimmered in his green glass-concealed eyes, as your mounds jiggled every time he fucked into you. The visual stimulus of you spread beneath him, your tight pussy slick with his cum, doe-eyed and completely willing, sent him spiralling towards his high.
"God I wish I--wish I could stay-- more than anything...cum with me, please please please--"
His thrusts became frantic, rough and sloppy with no warning. Kento's eyes darted from your face, to your breasts and pussy, and back again, drinking in the shock and ecstasy plastered over your face. You were trapped within the humid embrace of him, erotically overstimulated by his smell, his desperation, the constant stroke of his weeping cockhead against your spongy soft spot.
You didn't realise how close you were to orgasm until his position shifted, his trimmed honey-gold trail now rubbing against your clit. Clinging onto him, and rubbing upwards to meet his thrusts, you begged for Kento to help you. Your begging was Kento's last straw, and he gasped, his seed slugging out in lazy, creamy trickles against your overstuffed cervix and pussy.
Barely able to see straight, Kento kept rubbing his rigid pelvis against you, gruff and messy while you felt the drag of pleasure through you, softer than bare feet through hot sand. Kento whispered to you, sweat mingling on your foreheads pressed together; "...don't regret a thing...won't regret a minute-- wish this was different...deserve more..."
Panting in each others embrace, the dreadful horror of reality seeped back into you both. You could hear cries in the distance, the rumble of battles. You fought an unwinnable fight. Silent, and pensive, you jolted out of your reverie to hear Kento groan above you, reluctantly pulling his softening cock free. He knelt, dewy-eyed, watching the gluey drip of his cum from you, moaning and shivering as he held his half-hard cock, nudging the cum back inside with his tip.
The sudden emptiness almost made you weep. You felt the same terrible foreboding emanating from him as you had when he arrived on the rooftop. Kento smiled down at you, heartfelt and reassuring, pressing a folded pocket handkerchief to you before pulling your underwear back on over it. He kissed you delicately, from toe to knee while you giggled, before planting one lazy kiss and nuzzle onto your belly. You grasped his head there, scratching gently at his scalp with your fingernails.
"Stay with me, Kento. Just stay." You pressed, knowing in your gut that his decision was already made. His sigh creaked the leather of his harness with broad, corded tugs of his shoulders.
"They need help, underground. I'm one of the few First Grades available. It's only right that I go down there."
Kento's words, as always, rang with decisive finality. Before you could begin to talk again, he interrupted you smoothly.
"You will not come with me."
"You can't stop me."
"Shoko needs you. Your reverse cursed technique is second only to hers, and she's in need of support. It's the proper thing to do."
You squirmed with guilt, knowing you would choose to let Shoko suffer over Kento. Kento glowered down at you, stern, as if he hadn't just fallen apart inside you. You swallowed, a coil of doubt inside your belly.
"...don't be a hero, Kento." Kento frowned as if he didn't understand, and you insisted. "Don't be a hero. Get yourself out first. I mean it." Kento hesitated, looking out over the city lights, the breeze ruffling his mussed hair. He pulled his shirt back on, threading it under his harness.
"...alright." He lied. He paused. You both stood, sticky with each others' cum cooling between your legs. Nuzzling nose to nose, it felt so surreal to have to toss aside post-coital softness, in exchange for the cold embrace of battle.
"Go to Shoko," Kento whispered against your lips, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "and help her. Please. Do as I say."
"Promise you'll come back to me." You hushed into his kiss, beseeching him. He softened, deceptively reassuring, while hearing his clocktower chime.
"Always. I'm all yours. Always." Planting one lingering kiss to your forehead, you watched Kento's retreating back, his figure disappearing down the stairwell.
You wondered if you'd ever trust anyone other than Kento, over your own instincts.
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Shoko was surprised to see you, her cigarette drooping as she raised her thick, dark eyebrows.
"Kento told me you wanted me." You insisted. Shoko shot Yaga one questioning look. Yaga shrugged, arms folded.
"We haven't spoken to Kento all evening." Shoko assured. You felt a flash of panicked rage in your gut, knowing he'd lied to you. Knowing he was taking himself to an unwinnable battle. You grabbed Shoko by the arm.
"Where are they? His team? Where is he?"
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Kento was bloodied, missing an arm of his shirt, his vision obscured by the incessant bleed of a head wound. Pushing out of Dagon's domain, he knew he was exhausted, already skirting his limit. He felt a monstrous wave of Cursed energy, so much deadlier than his own.
A volcano-headed Curse approached him, its hand outstretched and hovering over Kento's abdomen. Naobito and Maki already smouldered in agony, and Kento felt the sickening weight of failure in his chest He had only a moment to protect himself, and he may have coated his body in Cursed-energy in its entirety, had he not filled his death-sentenced mind with thoughts of you.
He expected fire and flames...and felt you. When he protected his right half, you had arrived at the edge of a knife blade, and protected his left. The volcano-headed Curse faltered, stepping back with a scowl.
Kento looked down at you, knelt at his side in a braced position. His clock stopped chiming, in a moment of twisted fates reserved previously for the gods alone. He considered that you were, perhaps, a goddess, and he may be your vassal. You looked up at him, bristling with rage, and Kento's heart swelled.
"I'll tell you off later. For now...we have a fight to finish."
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By the end of the night, Itadori Yuuji had gained a brother and retained a beloved father figure. Nanami Kento cast his eyes over Choso with a hum of resignation, considering he may have another boy to look after, too. The patch-faced curse who may have been his executioner in another life, met its end. He witnessed an old friend who was not an old friend, cast a battle royale over the length of Japan.
Gazing in mute horror over the devastation left behind, Kento felt a hand slip into his own. His ears flushed red. He cleared his throat.
"I'm-- I'm so sorry--"
You laughed, your hands over your face. Kento's eyes glimmered with mirth. He plaited his fingers in yours, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, mumbling against them.
"My hero."
#jjk#kento nanami#pseudowho#jjk nanami#kento nanami x you#nanami kento#kento nanami x reader#nanami fluff#nanami kento smut#nanami headcanons#jujutsu nanami#jujutsu kaisen nanami#kento nanami smut#kento nanami x y/n#nanami#nanami kento fluff#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#nanami smut#nanami x reader#nanami x y/n#nanami x you#kento#shibuya incident
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Post-Injury Hurt/Comfort Series - Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard
Characters: Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard
Reader: GN (afab in Rosi's)
Word Count: 5.7k
CW: blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, stitches, sepsis
Summary: Continuing the series. Blackbeard's is more of a small bonus drabble that came to me, so his doesn't meet the 1k minimum I was shooting for in these. (And Rosi's went way over...)
Ao3 Link
Law
Your opponent is quicker than you're used to. As a cat mink, his reflexes are far better than yours. However, he fights unarmed while you use twin short swords, so you're able to keep some distance between you and even the playing field.
You tilt your head left to avoid his swipe, claws barely missing your face. Acting quickly, you return with a jab that pierces his armor and stabs into his shoulder. He hisses in pain and you grinâthat's one arm he can't use anymore.
Your moment of confidence makes you slip up. Focused on the movement of his remaining arm, you're taken by surprise when he suddenly kicks one of your swords right out of your hand. He hasnât used kicks at all until now, likely to catch you off-guard like this. Before you can recover, he follows up by thrusting his claws into your chest, digging in and unleashing electricity into your body.
Law looks over just in time to see you drop like a stone. âY/n-ya!â he shoutsâbut you're unresponsive. He turns to Bepo, fighting by his side. âBepo! Count to two, then kick as hard as you can where I am!â
Bepo, wisened to Lawâs tactics, nods. âAye-aye!â
Law flexes his fingers. âRoom!â
The sphere of his power expands wide to cover the battlefield. He swaps places with the cat mink, hearing it yowl a moment later as Bepoâs foot connects with its gut. Grabbing your arm, he creates one more room from where he is and teleports you both to its perimeter, a safe distance from the fight. Aside from some bloody claw marks, he can't see major injuries.
âScan!â Law calls, voice tinged with panic as his ability checks your vitals. To his horror, the scan of your body shows your heart has stopped entirely, and his own seems to follow suit. He quickly removes your heart from your body, holding it in his hand. Focusing, he runs his own electric current through your heart in a swift, measured jolt.
The muscle twitches once and remains still.
âNo, no, come on.â Law tries again. Zap. No response. âDonât you do this.â He tries again. Zap. And again, no response. âCome back.â Zap. Your heart is still.
This time, he uses both hands and runs a higher voltage, shouting, âCome back right now!â Your heart jumpsâthen, finally, starts to beat. The relief is almost nauseating.
Clutching your heart to his chest with one hand, Law tilts your jaw open with his other hand and seals his mouth over yours, delivering rescue breaths until he feels you start to breathe on your own.
Slowly, your eyes open, your breaths shallow but even. He's hovering right over your head, looking into your eyes. âLaw?â
âJust stay still.â He runs another scan, making sure everything's running normally.
You try to get up, fighting the sluggishness of your body. âThe fightââ
âItâs still going. Lie down.â Law pushes your shoulder, forcing you to recline.
âThen you need to go help them.â
âThe rest of the crew has it handled. I'm not leaving you.â
Youâre not sure what happenedâeverything went black while you were fightingâbut whatever it was, it must have been bad if Lawâs saying that. Still, youâre eager to rejoin the battle. âAm I going to die?â you ask stubbornly as you try to sit up again.
âDon't be ridiculous. I'd never let that happen. Lie down, Y/n-ya.â
Law doesn't let you fight. He doesnât even let you get up, not until he's checked everythingâblood pressure, oxygen level, potential blood clots, your ability to follow commandsâand even then, he doesn't give you your heart back, stating he needs to keep an eye on it for a while âjust in case.â The battle ends in victory, and you walk back to the crew with a square hole in your chest.
You don't know much about electric shock effects, but you suppose it's okay to make sure your heart hasn't been thrown out of rhythm. It is weird to go about your day with the hole in your body. And itâs weird to feel Lawâs fingers around your heart. Itâs difficult to describeâa sort of warm, sensitive, almost ticklish physical contact that you feel within your chest, despite it being outside your body. Every time Law picks up your heart, youâre aware. You donât know where he keeps it, but it must be somewhere on his person; you feel it at random throughout the day or as youâre laying in bed at night. You can infer he stays up late, as you often fall asleep to the sensation of him holding it in his hand.Â
Throughout all those days, youâve never felt more secure, never slept more soundly than when you do knowing heâs keeping your very heart safe by his side.
Every day Law does another exam, taking the time to run a scan on your body. It seems a bit excessive to you, but youâre not about to tell him that. Youâre just grateful for the attention, truth be told. You and Law have been close for a while now, even exchanging some fond words in the rare moments youâre alone, but neither of you have the courage to risk damaging your friendship. But having him literally hold onto your heart makes you feel linked to him in a way you never have before, and itâs driving you insane.
âAll clear?â you ask as Law finishes another scan.
âYes, you look good,â he says, making your cheeks warm at the phrasing, âthough, occasionally your heart rate picks up when youâre at a resting state. I havenât figured out why yet, but I will.â He holds up your heart in front of his face, scratching his beard with his other hand as he thinks. âLike now.â
That answer is fairly obvious to you, and entirely his fault. Watching him inspect your heart so closely makes you oddly nervous. And he puts his hands on you during these exams, too, feeling lymph nodes on your neck and instructing you to breathe in and out while he listens to your lungs. What are you supposed to do? You canât help it. Itâs involuntary.
âHow are you feeling?â he asks.
Well, there was a hole where your heart should be that only he could fill. But you donât say that. You just mumble, âI feel fine.â
âYou always say that.â
âItâs always true.â Aside from some fatigue in the beginning, youâve otherwise been back to normal. âWhat do you think? Can I have it back?â
He thinks for a second. âAlright, one more day, then, just to be safe. Do you mind?â
âNo, I donât,â you say. âItâs weirdly comforting, to be honest.â
âHow?â Law looks at you incredulously. âI could crush your heart in my hand right now.â
Of course that would be his perspective. The risk of trusting someone so intimately isnât lost on him. But after all these years, you would easily trust Law with your life, so you simply shrug. âYou wouldnât break my heart, would you?â
He stiffens. Surely you didnât mean for it to come out that way, but the way you say itâso earnestly, so innocently, looking at him with those big doe eyes of yoursâhe canât help but feel a pang of longing. He desperately wants to protect you, to make right where he failed in the past. Law wants to reassure you, to bring you comfort that he hasnât figured out how to give.
Instead, he says, âNo.â
âPromise?â you ask softly.
âI promise, Y/n-ya.â Your heart beats faster in his hand. Law looks down at it, then at you, and thereâs a flash of understanding in his eyes.
âOkay,â you say. If heâs finally figured it out, maybeâŚmaybe this is your chance. âProve it.â
âHow?â He looks a bit shocked, and the way his eyes keep flitting between your heart and your face tells you that he knows exactly how.Â
Youâre slow in your approach, and even slower when you put your arms around his neck, giving him plenty of time to back away. Heâs uncertain, frozen in place, but if he wants you to stop, he isnât saying so.
You lean in. Law closes his eyes. Your heart beats like crazy in his hand.
You kiss him. Just a brief, soft touch of your lips.
âLaw,â you breathe. âWas that okay?â
Law responds by cupping your cheek and pulling you in for another.
Afterwards, he jokes that he doesnât want to give your heart back. But thatâs alright. Truth be told, heâd stolen it a long time ago.
Shanks
You return to consciousness through a cloud of black spots in your eyes, flashing in and out of your vision like raindrops on glass. It's immediately accompanied by the piercing whine of your ears ringing. You canât hear anything else, nor can you tell where you are. A battleâŚyou were pretty sure there was a battle.Â
The spots recede to the edges of your vision, and you can see a cloudy sky, filling with gray smoke. Youâre on your back. Faintly, you can hear shouts, filtering in through the shrill whine. A few seconds later, your brain starts putting names to the voices. Yasopp, Benn, Shanks.
Your captainâs face fills your vision a moment later. Instantly, you know something is very, very wrong, because youâve never seen Shanks look panicked before. Itâs just not an emotion in his repertoire. Always cool, always collected, always joyful, until now. Heâs shouting somethingâyour name.
ââyou hear me? Just hang on. Hongoâs on his way. Fuck, fuck!â
â...ShanksâŚâ you rasp, dimly becoming aware of your body. âWhat happenedâŚ?â
âItâs my fault, I didnât stop them in time, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry!â
Itâs distant, but pain starts trickling through your body. Dull, throbbing pain, everywhere. Well, almost everywhere.
âItâs okay,â you say, trying to raise your head to assess yourself.
âDonât!â Shanks stops you with a hand on your forehead. âDonât move.â
Gradually, you start remembering the battle. The chaos, the noise. Now, thereâs no more sound except the ringing in your ears, so it must be over. You were fighting someone who specialized in explosives, that was it. That explained the hurt, and the confusion.
âI was hit,â you say slowly.
Shanks just nods, looking grim.
Benn appears on your other side, crouching next to you and frowning. You search his face for an idea of the damage, but he keeps it carefully still as he looks you up and down. Then his eyes meet Shanksâ, and they exchange a look that gives you a bad feeling.
As the ringing dies down just a little and your vision clears, the pain grows. Itâs distracting, more so than youâre used to, but whatâs even more distracting is the particular lack of it where it should be.
â...Shanks?â you say. âI canât feel my leg.â
His lower lip wobbles, and then his lips press together in a tight, thin line, and thatâs when you know. You lift your head to try and see, but he stops you again. âDonât look. Itâs better if you donât look.â
Itâs funnyâhe looks like the one on the verge of falling apart. You hate to see him so distraught, so unlike himself, all his cheerful confidence vanished.
âItâs my left legâŚâ you say.
âYeah...â
âThat means we match.â
He smiles ruefully, tears breaking from his lash line and running free. âYeah.â
âItâs gonna be okay,â you say, reaching for his hand.
He takes it gently. âThatâs my line.â
Coping is a funny thing. You spend most of your energy post-surgery comforting Shanks. Not because he canât handle it by himself, and not because he asks you too. Itâs just easier to externalize the situation, to make it about his self-blame rather than address the gaping loss of your body.
Shanks tries to hide it from you, to not burden you, but you know him too well. Eventually, you get tired of how he drinks himself into a stupor most nights. You get tired of how your crutches irritate your armpits, tired of how you keep losing balance, tired of the phantom pains that shoot through nerves that arenât there anymore. You snap at him. You shout. You cry that blaming himself wonât regrow your leg, so canât he please just be there for you? You need himâyouâve always needed himânow more than ever before.
Itâs an ugly, broken confession, but it finally reaches him.
Shanks pulls you in close and apologizes. His eyes are moist even though heâs not usually a crier, overwhelmed by what heâs put you through, overwhelmed that youâre finally admitting your feelings under such nightmarish conditions.
âI love you,â he whispers, over and over. âI love you.â
Healing is both easier after that, and yet harder. Now, with no distraction from your loss, you have to face it head on. Itâs easier because heâs there. That heâs been through this before makes you cling to him more than you would have, surrounding yourself in the grim comforts of someone who understands. Shanks holds you tight on those nights when you scream âitâs gone,â over and over, lets you squeeze his hand when you have phantom pain, helps you shower when you canât manage it by yourself, supports you on your first shaky steps using the prosthetic. The recovery journey is an arduous one, but you make it out the other side closer than ever before.
Years later, itâs something you can joke about without feeling that twinge of loss, especially when your crewmates call you and Shanks a complementary set. Now that youâre finally official with him and back to your full battle capacity, you can appreciate what happened to you for what it proved: that together, you and Shanks are complete.
Mihawk
You and Mihawk were opposite sides of the same coin. As different as you could be from each other, but still inexplicably connected as longtime rivals. Being warlords was the only thing you really had in common: He was a swordsman, you used guns; he sailed alone, you commanded a large crew; his colors of arms was better, your colors of observation was better. He preferred not to talk much, while you loved to egg him into trading banter. Many clashes with each other throughout the years solidified your strange, thrilling rivalry until you looked forward to the rare times you ran into each other.
Nowadays, you only really see each other during warlord meetings. So, when you were ambushed by your own crew, Mihawk was the last person you expected to save you.
He took out the four men holding you down, tossed you your pistols, and fought by your side. Your crew wasnât weak by any meansâ you hand-picked them to sail with youâand had you been alone, you wouldn't have survived. With your combined strength, however, the battle was over quickly.
It surprised Mihawk, then, that you didn't stick around to bother him like you usually did. You fired a smoke round and disappeared. He figured that you were demoralized from the mutiny and didn't have it in you, but when the smoke cleared, he saw tell-tale drops of blood where you were.Â
Mihawk finds you in an abandoned shed not far from the battle. You're panting, hunched down against the wall and facing away from him, a first aid kit at your feet. He's as quiet as a cat when he approaches, but naturally you sense him anyway.
âHow did you find me?â you ask without looking up.
âI followed the blood trail,â he says flatly. âYou should have stemmed the flow before running off.â
âIâm working on it.â
âDid you tie a tourniquet first?â he asks, and even from there he can see you roll your eyes.
âCanât. Itâs not in the right place.â You raise shaky arms to your head, fiddling with somethingâstitches, most likely.
âLet me see.â
You glare at him for a moment, eyes uncharacteristically hard and angry. Then you quietly relent by turning, letting him see your other side. Thereâs a long, deep gash going from your temple down to your neck. Still oozing blood, he can't see for sure, but estimates it's gone down to the bone. Youâve got a few crude, clumsy stitches started in the top, the needle hanging from the wire, but without being able to see what youâre doing, itâs a piss poor job.
Mihawk wordlessly approaches you and crouches down, sharp gold eyes fixed on your wound. âIt needs to be redone,â he says, unsheathing Kogatana and cutting through your stitches. You donât so much as flinch when he pulls the wires outâyou wouldnât dare in front of him, he supposes. Heâd likely do the same. Maybe you were more alike than he thought.Â
He takes the first aid kid from the ground and re-threads the needle, then starts to stitch your wound, pressing gauze to soak up the blood as he goes. âIt's deep,â he says.
âThat explains why it stings so bad,â you mumble. While you successfully resist the urge to wince, you canât stop yourself from tearing up. âManâŚâ
âIt could be worse. It went down to your skull, but the bone itself wasn't damaged.â
âWhat, are you trying to cheer me up?â You turn to look at him, but he tilts your chin back to the side and chides you to hold still.
You exhale harshly through your nose at the unpleasant sensation. âI hate needles,â you say suddenly. âI hate sharp things in general. The thought of a blade going through skin gives me the creeps.â He doesnât respond, and you feel awkward, but you continue anyway, feeling the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them. âIâve teased you about using swords, but the truth is, I could never.â
Mihawk doesnât pause in his stitching, only hums. âIf itâs worth anything, Iâm a terrible shot.â
The corner of your lip twitches up. It does make you feel a little better, to be honest.Â
You glance at the swordsman as he works. His eyes are always so much more intense up close. You used to find it unsettling, but right now, focused as they are on your wound, it just seems oddly endearing. You glance away, blinking quickly, and a tear breaks from your lash line.
When Mihawk pauses to wipe it away, itâs so fluid and unhesitating that you debate if it really happened at all. Warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you avoid looking at him.
âHey, âHawk,â you say.
âWhat?â
You stare at the ground carefully. âWhy did you help me?â
Heâs quiet for a while, perhaps thinking about his answer, perhaps just keeping up his mysterious image.
âYouâre the only one whoâs ever successfully shot me,â he finally says. âTo think someone of your caliber would be taken out by such cowardly tactics doesnât sit right with me.â
You let that sink in while he finishes his work, tying off the stitches and applying the bandages. Itâs weirdâall the times youâve bickered, all the times youâve fought with lethal intent, and yet you trust with all your heart that Mihawk wonât harm you right now.
Youâve let your guard down too much, you think to yourself. Thatâs how you missed the warning signs of your crewâs mutiny, thatâs how you got injured in battle, thatâs how youâve let Mihawk get this close.
Even then, you find yourself leaning your head into his hand. He doesnât say anything, just brushes his thumb over your cheek.
The reality of what youâre doing hits you a moment later, and you quickly stand up, only for the world to spin and your knees to buckle.
Mihawk catches you easily. âYou've lost a lot of blood.â
âIt'll refill,â you mumble.
âIn time. You need to rest.â
âAlright, alright,â you say. His hold is so secure, you kind of never want him to let go. Damn, you have lost a lot of blood. âI owe you for this, Mihawk. Somehow I'll pay you back.â
âHow about dinner?â he asks, and youâre so caught off-guard that you stare owlishly.
âH-Hey, come on, now,â you say, but Mihawk has never really been one to joke. There's a crack in your confident demeanor. âSerious?â
âSerious.â He takes your hand, raising it to his lips, and kisses your knuckles.
Rosinante
âItâs not a fucking show,â you snap at the crew, crowded around where you are in the med bay of the Numenca Flamingo. Doflamingo is bent over the wound in your side, a string attaching his finger to the bullet still inside. Corazon holds your body down.
âYou gonna scream?â Diamante teases cruelly, but you roll your eyes.
âYouâd like that, huh, you sickâFUCK!â you shriek at the end as Doflamingo yanks out the bullet, body jerking against Corazon's iron grip. Diamante and Trebol both chuckle like the bastards they are, but Doflamingo waves them and the rest away as he moves in to disinfect the area.
You shiver, fighting not to tear up in front of the two of them. It is of the utmost importance not to show weakness around Doflamingo. After years of dedication and rigorous work, youâve clawed your way into a promotion from a top Donquixote Pirate to one of the people in his Family.
Itâs imperative, as an undercover Marine, that you donât lose this chance. Your job is to support Corazon. Youâd rather not cry in front of him, either, but thatâs more about pride than anything else.
Doflamingo traces your hip as he finishes sewing you up with his string. âBuffalo said you took the bullet for Baby 5.âÂ
You stiffen at his touch, an oddly soft contrast to the string that nonetheless makes you ill at ease. âYes, Young Master.â Are you in trouble? You donât want to act soft, but you couldnât stand by and let a child get shot, either.
âI see,â he says, and you hold your breath. âIâd expect no less from someone I hand-picked.â
He pats your head once, then leaves the room, and relief courses through your veins alongside the adrenaline.
Corazon gives you a look you canât decipher. He doesnât speak to you, of courseâtoo risky. His voice is a distant memory at this point, all the way from back when you were in training together.
A few uneventful days pass as the crew sails back to base with their spoils. The pain in your side seems to spread to right below your gut, intensifying as it goes. The wound area isnât red or swollen, so you realize you must have gotten your period on top of everything. Great.
Youâre the unlucky type that suffers from hellish, unpredictable menstruation, the pain often debilitating enough to put you out of commission until it abates. It was easier to cover up back in the Marines, feigning illness, but you wouldnât be granted such liberties in the pirate world. You've had to fight through the agony to keep up your appearance as a tough-as-nails pirate commander. It seemed you were being tested again, as now you had to resist while under watch of the Family.
The cramps continue to get worse by the day until youâre nauseated from the pain. You end up vomiting over the side of the ship more than once, which you claim is from eating bad food. You try everything to take your focus off the pain. Meditation, breathing exercises. But for some reason, it just keeps getting worse. Thereâs one day where it seems to slightly abate, and you go to bed believing youâre past the worst of it, only to wake up the next day in complete, room-spinning agony. Moving makes it worse, every time you go to the bathroom or help with the ship tasks it feels like you might pass out. You canât get comfortable no matter which position you lay in, and you sweat like crazy even though itâs cold.
Youâre shaky while you help haul in ropes, thoughts so consumed by how terrible you feel that you jump when Corazon taps your shoulder. He scribbles something on his notepad, then shows it to you.Â
âYou look like shit.â
âThat obvious?â you ask, even as your guts and head both swim in a thick fog of pain. Corazon scribbles some more.
âYour pain tolerance is high. This is unusual for you.â
âItâll pass,â you respond, turning away from him. He starts writing letters on your back, something he does to make absolutely sure no one can read your conversation later through his notepad.
âWorried.â
The guilt eats at you before he can even finish writing it. As Doflamingoâs right hand, Corazon has himself to worry about. Youâre supposed to make his job easier, not be dead weight. So even though this is the worst itâs ever been, even though you just want to cry at how much it hurts, you steel yourself. You canât crumble now. âIâll be okay, Cora,â you dismiss.
Law stands at the foot of your hammock that night as you writhe, a curious Baby 5 next to him.
âWhat do you want, Law,â you grit out.
âList your primary symptoms,â Law says. You glance at him to see heâs holding a notepad and pencil. âAlso, you should let me look at how your woundâs healing.â
âI donât need the opinion of an eight year old,â you spit, the pain making you lash out. Youâve already looked at your wound, youâve dealt with many in the past, and the area around your incision looks fine.
Law clenches his fists, irritated. âYouâre being a real bitch.â
Baby 5 gasps. Law shoots her a glare that makes her whimper and hide behind your hammock. He mutters to himself as he storms out.
âWhy donât you tell someone if youâre feeling bad?â Baby 5 asks timidly once Lawâs gone.
âBecause,â you say, taking a deep breath to try to focus on getting the words out. âI donât have a devil fruit. My haki abilities are rudimentary. I canât fall behind, Baby 5. I want to be useful to the Young Master.â
âI donât understand.â
âOne day youâll get cramps, and hopefully they wonât be this bad. But when it happens, you have to be tough and not let anyone know. Itâs looked down upon by those who donât get them. Youâll be left behindâŚâ
âThatâs gonna happen to me?â Baby 5 looks worried.
You try to reassure her that since sheâs handled everything the adults have thrown at her thus far, sheâll be fine. Baby 5 doesnât look convinced, but you donât have it in you to care right then.
By the next day the pain is so searingly, blindingly intense that no amount of willpower can overcome it. Youâre woken up by it, and this time itâs unmatched by all the previous days combined. It feels like someoneâs poured molten lava into your guts. It feels like your organs are being ripped out of your body. Pressing a pillow into your gut gives you a fraction of relief, but even the slightest relief is like heaven when the pain is that badâuntil youâre ripped back down, not to earth, but to hell, and itâs agony all over again.
Somehow, you manage to get out of your hammock, only to end up on your knees on the floor, holding your stomach and making pitiful noises.
Distantly, you get the sensation that Corazon is writing words on your back, but youâre so out of it that you canât parse them.
âNeed help,â you whimper, voice breaking.
Corazon sends someone to get Doflamingo, who has Law assess you. After taking your vitals and pressing on your abdomen (youâve never considered killing a child before, but it hurts so bad that you scream) Law declares you need to be hospitalized immediately, and also says he told you so just to rub salt in the wound.
Itâs a miracle that thereâs an island within a few hourâs sail. You donât remember those hours very well. Itâs in and out, coming and going with the waves of pain. All you remember is Corazon, staying by your side the entire time. He keeps the crueler Family members away from you, lets you squeeze his hand for comfort, holds your hair back when you throw up. When you make it to the island, heâs the one to carry you to the hospital.
You get palpated again by the hospital doctors (your own special hell) while Corazon holds your hand, get scanned by a machine, and finally diagnosed with a severe infection thatâs gone septic. Post-surgery finally has you in relief, doped up on painkillers, but very, very weak.
Recovery is its own trial. Combined with the strength of the painkillers, plus your body fighting off the infection, you see things when you close your eyes. Youâre not sure if members of the Family come to visit you, or if youâre imagining they were there. The only constant is Corazon.
You wake up one night to see him hunched over in a too-small chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even half-awake, you get the sudden sense that heâs trying not to cry. He probably wouldnât want to see you like that, and youâre so, so tired still, so you go back to sleep.
You dream that he speaks to you. Perhaps itâs a memory, but when you wake up, you see his silhouette in the door.
âCora?â You smile, lifting your head, but your smile dies when you see Doflamingo stepping inside.Â
âYoung Master,â you say weakly. Why is he visiting you alone? What could he possibly want, aside from telling you that you were demoted?
âBaby 5 was inconsolable,â he starts, sauntering up to your bed. âSomeone told her sheâd suffer the same condition that you did. Then she said something strange...â He trails a hand on the railing of your bed as he walks up to your side, looming over you. âShe begged us not to abandon her.â You feel your blood run cold as Doflamingo grins. âWhat a silly notion.â
You open your mouth to speak, but canât find the words. He reaches out a hand to brush back your hair and cup your cheek. It takes everything in you not to flinch away.
âCould it be, perhaps, you thought Iâd abandon you, Y/n?â he asks, your daunted face reflected crimson in his sunglasses.
Swallowing, you nod, and he grips your chin harshly.
âIn your concern, you almost got yourself killed,â he says. âI selected you to join me for a reason. You're no good to me dead. Do you understand?â
You nod quickly, and after another terrifying moment where he stares into your eyesâmaybe your soulâhe finally leaves.
Corazon writes furiously later, berating you for being so dismissive of your own condition.Â
âYou were on deathâs door! Your CRP was over 200!âÂ
âHow much is it supposed to be?â
âZero! Fool!!â
You apologize endlessly, and more so as he helps you recover, until he gets sick of your apologies, tooâbut when he takes your hand, his gaze is soft.
From here on out, no more suffering alone, he writes into your palm, we fight together.
He holds your hand in both of his larger ones and, doing a quick check to make sure youâre still alone, brushes his lips against the tips of your fingers.
Suddenly you understand just how much heâs longed not to fight alone in his mission, and how important it is for you to be there. You bow your head, pull his hands so theyâre at your chest, and kiss the back of one. âI understand.â
Blackbeard
Comparatively, you are the better in sheer physical strength to your opponent, but the other pirate outspeeds you. You fail to dodge back far enough from the downward stab of his dagger, and it sinks into the meat of your thigh.
You snarl in pain while he roars in triumph. His roar gets cut off as you suddenly grab his throat.
âInsect!â you snarl as you squeeze hard, grinding his windpipe to his spine. He flails, making horrid choking noises and digging his nails into your hand. Thereâs a brief struggle where he tries to reach the dagger in your thigh, but you grab his wrist before he can and, with a surge of armament haki, snap it in your grip. He canât even cry out like this, just writhes around like mad, and you wait a few more seconds before the blood flow is cut off to his brain for too long, and he goes limp.
The rest of the crew watches from the seats of the bar as you snap his neck sharply before letting him drop. The other patrons of the seedy bar cheer, and cash is begrudgingly exchanged while you hobble back to the Blackbeard Pirates. Doc Q starts to look over your leg as you lean against the bar.
âThirty seconds,â Lafitte says, looking at his pocket watch, âyou said it would take you ten.â
âShut the fuck up, Lafitte,â you warn. The pain wracking through your leg gives you no patience for his snide commentary. âOr Iâll choke you out next.â
âPromise?â
In an instant, you yank the knife out of your thigh and stab it into Lafitteâs so deep itâs almost at the hilt. He screams while Doc Q yells at you, âDonât pull out the knifeâ!â
âThey fucking stabbed me!â Lafitte shrieks as Blackbeard, Burgess and Auger burst out into laughter.Â
âI missed your femoral on purpose,â you grumble. âNext time I wonât.â
Doc Q rushes to stem the bleeding from your thigh, and you cross your arms, trying to quell your temper. Because the Doc has to sew you up first, Lafitte will have to wait a while with that dagger sunken into his leg. Itâs a fitting punishment, but you still kind of want to kill him.
Blackbeard, wearing his shitty grin, drapes his arm around your shoulders. You throw him a warning look that he ignores, as usual. Most times he does this, you push his arm away and otherwise reject him to his face. This is one of the rare times you don't. Youâre still in a lot of pain, and thereâs pretty much nowhere elseâno one elseâon this planet that you could get a comforting touch from. You let him hold you to his side, if only to abate the burning of your injury, and ever so slightly, you feel your rage boil down to a simmer.
âBetter, trinket?â Blackbeard asks you, smirking.
âNo,â you lie.
#one piece imagines#one piece x reader#law x reader#trafalgar law x reader#rosinante x reader#mihawk x reader#shanks x reader#x reader#blackbeard x reader#marshall d teach x reader#zen writes
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i love you, in every time ŕżâ§â 1943 - wounds and whispers
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chapter summary: After an attack on the battlefield, Logan wakes up to you as his nurse in Italy during World War 2.
word count: 8.8k+
pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
notes: this one is short, and the ending is a bit abrupt, but i kind of wanted it to be that way- war is unpredictable. also, the ending is a tad bit different from the other endings, you'll see when you read! anyways, next chapter is when things get a little bit more interesting...
warnings/tags: mentions of injuries, fluff, angst, war, character death(s)
series masterlist - chapter 3 â chapter 5
A mere 43 years later and Logan was already in his second war since you died that last time. Part of him almost wished that he could die, maybe then heâd see you and get to hold you forever. But that just wasnât in the cards for him; not when he had this healing, not when he was already 111 years old.
Logan's mind was swimming in a fog of pain as consciousness crept back in. The last thing he remembered was the deafening blast of gunfire and the sharp, searing pain that tore through his side as he charged forward in the midst of the chaos. War was hell, and heâd been through more than enough of them to know that. But thisâthis felt different.
His eyes fluttered open, the bright lights overhead blinding him for a moment as he groaned, trying to push himself up. His muscles screamed in protest, his entire body feeling like it had been torn apart and put back together again.
âEasy there, soldier.â
The voice was soft but firm, and it froze him in place. Loganâs heart skipped a beat, recognition flooding through him even though he knew it wasnât possible. His vision focused, and then he saw you. Standing right over him, your face illuminated by the dim lights of the field hospital.
It was you.
Loganâs breath hitched, his mind spinning. Heâd seen you dieâheâd held you in his arms not long before everything faded. The memory of that night, the pain in your eyes, the blood pooling beneath youâit was burned into him. Heâd lost you again. But now here you were, alive, standing in front of him like nothing had ever happened.
His throat tightened, but he forced himself to speak. âY/N?â You probably didnât hear him, given the quiet tone of his voice.
You smiled softly, stepping closer to him, your hands working with practiced care to check his wounds. âYouâre lucky, you know,â you said, ignoring the way he looked at you, as if he'd seen a ghost. âThe shrapnel didnât hit anything vital. Youâll live.â
Logan swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours. He felt a pull, the same pull heâd felt every time he met you in a different life. But this time, it hurt even more. Because this was the first time heâd seen you since the last time you died, and now, here you were, again, as if the universe had decided to toy with him once more.
âY/NâŚâ he whispered again, his voice rough with emotion.
You glanced at him, your brows knitting together in confusion. âHow do you know my name?â
Logan hesitated, his heart pounding. He couldnât tell youânot yet. Not about the lives youâd lived before, not about the times heâd watched you die. He had to keep it together. You didnât remember him, and that was both a blessing and a curse.
He cleared his throat, managing a tight smile. âLucky guess,â he said, his voice strained, trying to mask the tidal wave of emotion crashing through him.
You gave him a curious look but didnât press further. âWell, lucky or not, you should be more careful out there,â you said, turning your attention back to bandaging him up. âYouâre not invincible, even if you act like it.â
Logan nearly chuckled at that. If only you knew. But instead, he gritted his teeth as you finished patching him up. The pain from the wound was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. Heâd spent so many lifetimes with you, always losing you too soon. Always feeling like there wasnât enough time.
And now, here you were again, standing so close to him, your hands gentle as you worked. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing with memories of youâof your smile, your laugh, the way youâd always found him, no matter the time or place.
But this wasnât the past. This was 1943, and you didnât know him. He had to play it cool, keep his distance, even though every instinct in him was screaming to reach out and hold you, to make sure you didnât slip away again.
âThanks,â he muttered, trying to keep his voice steady.
You gave him a small nod, satisfied with your work. âWell, youâre still not cleared to leave yet, so youâre not gonna get away from me that easily.â You grabbed a small flashlight from your pocket and leaned in a little closer, shining it into his eyes to check his pupils.
Logan grunted, feeling the warmth of your proximity. It was almost unbearable how familiar you felt, even though you didnât know himâat least not in this lifetime. His eyes followed your movements, the way you focused on him like he was just another soldier you had to patch up. But to him, you were everything.
âYou know,â you started, your voice calm but a little teasing, âyou really shouldnât be throwing yourself into the line of fire like that. Kinda hard for us to patch you up if you donât have any parts left.â
Logan gave a low chuckle, though his heart wasnât in it. âIâll heal,â he muttered, more to himself than to you. His voice was rougher than usual, like the words were struggling to get past the weight of seeing you again, alive and breathing.
You raised an eyebrow at him. âHeal, huh? Well, youâre not invincible, soldier. Trust me, Iâve seen men think theyâre untouchable, and they donât last long in a place like this.â
Logan looked away, trying to focus on anything other than the sound of your voice. He didnât want to make this harder on himself than it already was. âGuess Iâll just have to be more careful, then.â
You chuckled softly, finishing your check-up and tucking the flashlight back into your pocket. âYeah, you do that.â There was a hint of amusement in your tone, but you were still clearly all business. âNow,â you looked at a clipboard in your hands, âJames, you have a different name youâd like to go by?â
Logan grunted, his gaze fixed on you. The name âJamesâ felt foreign now, like a remnant of a past he didn't quite belong to anymore. His eyes flickered to the clipboard, then back to your face. The memories of every life you'd lived flashed through his mind, each one ending the same way, with you slipping away from him.
âLogan,â he said, his voice a bit rougher than he intended.
You looked up, scribbling something down. âLogan, huh?â You nodded, writing it down. âSuits you better than James⌠I think.â
Logan gave a small grunt, a mix of acknowledgment and the emotions he was keeping buried. He couldnât tell you how much it hurt hearing you say his name, knowing you didnât remember him at all. Every time he heard your voice, it was like a punch to the gutâa reminder that no matter how many times you came back, he was always starting over, and you⌠you were always slipping away.
âGlad you approve,â Logan muttered, his eyes drifting away from you. He was trying hard not to stare, trying not to let the overwhelming rush of memories take over. You looked the same, almost exactly as you had the last timeâbefore George pulled that damn trigger.
You didnât seem to notice the tension radiating from him, too focused on the task at hand. âWell, Logan,â you said, setting the clipboard aside. âYouâll need to stay here for observation, at least for the night. Make sure your bodyâs handling the recovery properly. Weâve seen some soldiers who think theyâre fine, and thenââ You made a gesture, mimicking someone fainting, a half-smile tugging at your lips.
Loganâs eyes flicked to the floor, suppressing the mix of emotions threatening to boil over. That small smileâthe one you always had, no matter how many lives you livedâwas painfully familiar. Each time, the same softness, the same warmth. But this time, it cut deeper because he knew how this would end. Youâd be gone. Again.
âYouâre real good at this, arenât ya?â Logan said, his voice low, trying to sound casual despite the weight of everything between you two, or at least, everything he carried alone.
You shrugged, your smile widening just a little. âIâve had a lot of practice lately. War isnât exactly kind to anyone.â Your eyes softened for a moment, like you were remembering someone, but you shook it off, standing straighter. âBut, yeah. Itâs what I do.â
Loganâs jaw tightened as he fought the urge to tell you everything, to scream at the universe for pulling you into his life only to tear you away. But he couldnât. Not this time. He had to play along, had to act like this was the first time heâd ever met you.
He nodded, letting out a deep breath. âGuess weâre both used to it, then. War and all.â
You glanced at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. âYeah?â There was a pause as you sat down on the edge of the bed next to him. âYou seem⌠different from the other soldiers Iâve patched up. Seen a lot, huh?â
Logan leaned back slightly, his hand brushing against the place where the ring still rested in his pocket. He hadnât taken it out in years. âMore than youâd believe.â
There was a quiet moment between you, your gaze lingering on him as if trying to figure him out. âWell,â you said, breaking the silence, âletâs hope you donât add anything else to that list while youâre here.â
Logan couldnât help the bitter chuckle that escaped his throat. If only you knew what was on that list already. If only he could tell you how many times heâd seen you die, how many times heâd watched your life slip through his fingers. But instead, he just nodded again.
âIâll try,â he muttered, though the words felt hollow.
As you stood up, preparing to check on the next patient, you paused, glancing back at him. There was something in your eyes, something almost familiar. But then, you smiled againâkind, unaware of the history Logan held with youâand walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Logan exhaled slowly, the ache in his chest growing heavier. He had to stay strong, had to keep his distance. But deep down, he knew he was already caught, already tangled in the same painful cycle.
He slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the engagement ring heâd never had the chance to give you.
Maybe this time, he thought. Maybe this time, youâd survive.
But Logan knew better than to hope.
---
You checked in with one of the doctors when Sandra, your friend and fellow nurse, put a hand on your shoulder and turned you to face her.
âDoes he have a nice voice?â
You snorted, shaking your head at Sandra. "A nice voice? Thatâs what you want to ask?â
Sandra grinned, unbothered by your sarcasm. âWell, I saw the way you were looking at him. Thought maybe he had some mysterious, deep, soldier-thing going on.â
Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a clipboard from the nearby desk. âHeâs just a patient, Sandra.â
âUh-huh, sure.â Sandra leaned in, lowering her voice. âYou didnât exactly hurry out of that room.â
You shot her a look. âI was doing my job.â
âMmhmm,â she hummed, clearly not buying it. âSo... does he?â
You sighed, unable to stop a small smile from creeping onto your face. âYeah, okay. Maybe a little. Heâs got that gruff, low thing going on.â
âI knew it!â Sandra nudged your shoulder, her expression smug. âYouâre into the mysterious types.â
âOh, come on,â you muttered, flipping through the papers on your clipboard, though none of it really held your focus. Your mind drifted back to Loganâs faceâhis eyes, the way he carried himself like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. There was something about him, something that felt... familiar. But you brushed it off. That wasnât possible.
âIâm not into anyone,â you said quickly, snapping back to reality. âEspecially not a guy Iâve known for like five minutes.â
Sandra raised her hands in surrender, smirking. âAlright, alright. Iâll drop it.â But the teasing gleam in her eyes suggested she wasnât done with the subject.
You gave her a half-hearted glare before heading off to check on another patient. But as much as you tried to focus, your thoughts kept drifting back to Logan. The way his voice had this gravelly edge to it, how it felt like he was holding something back every time he spoke. And then there was the way he looked at youâlike he recognized you, like you were someone important.
But that couldnât be right.
---
You came to check on Logan later that night before youâd head back to your quarters for some rest. The makeshift hospital was quieter now, just a few murmurs from patients in the distance. Your shift had been long, draining, but something about checking on Logan felt... different.
You pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit room. Logan was sitting up on the bed, his expression unreadable as he stared at the floor. His posture was tense, like he was carrying the weight of more than just a few injuries.
âHowâre you feeling?â you asked softly, keeping your tone professional despite the strange pull you felt toward him.
Logan looked up at you, his eyes locking onto yours for a moment that seemed to stretch longer than it should. âBetter. You know, thanks to you.â
You gave a small smile, stepping closer to the bed. âIâm just doing my job.â
âYeah,â he muttered, his gaze drifting back to the floor. âStill, youâre good at it.â
There was that same heaviness in his voice, like he was holding back more than just gratitude. You couldnât put your finger on it, but something about him felt... familiar. It was strange, like you knew him somehow, but you brushed the thought away.
âYou should get some rest,â you said, checking the bandage on his side. Your fingertips lingered on the spot where the bloody wound had been earlier, but there was nothingâjust smooth skin, as if it had never been there at all. Your brow furrowed, lips parting slightly in disbelief. Youâd seen the gash when theyâd brought him in, deep and ugly, impossible to heal so quickly.
Loganâs muscles tensed under your touch, and when you glanced at him, his expression was guarded, like he was bracing for something.
"Thatâs... impossible," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. "It was bad earlier. There should at least be... a scar."
Logan shrugged, trying to act indifferent, but the movement was stiff. "Guess I got lucky."
You pulled your hand back slowly, still frowning. âLucky doesnât cover it. Iâve never seen anyone heal like that.â You tilted your head, curiosity edging into your voice. âHow?â
His jaw tightened. "It happens."
âThatâs not much of an answer.â Your arms crossed over your chest, and the edge in your tone softened just a bit. âYouâve got to admit itâs... weird.â
Logan gave you a look, one that made you feel like he was sizing you up, trying to figure out how much he could say. Or maybe how little. "Weird, yeah," he muttered, voice low. "Not much I can do about it, though."
You knew a deflection when you heard one, but you let it goâfor now. You werenât sure why you felt compelled to trust him, but there was something in his eyes, in the way he spoke, that made it impossible not to.
Sitting down on the edge of his bed, you shook your head with a faint smile. "Well, however it happened, youâre lucky I didnât call the doctors in to see this miracle." You gave him a teasing look. âYouâd be their new favorite science project.â
A ghost of a grin tugged at the corner of Loganâs mouth, but it didnât quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, Iâd rather avoid that."
For a moment, the two of you sat in silence. It should have been awkward, but it wasnât. There was something strangely easy about being near him, like youâd known each other for years. You glanced at his handsârough, calloused, like theyâd seen more battles than you could imagineâand wondered just how much heâd been through.
"Why do I feel like thereâs more to you than youâre letting on?" you asked softly.
Loganâs gaze flicked to yours, something unreadable in his expression. "You ever meet someone and feel like youâve known âem before?"
His words struck a nerve, sending a chill down your spine. You swallowed, the strange familiarity between you two suddenly harder to ignore. "Yeah... I guess I have."
Logan nodded, his gaze dropping to his hands. He rubbed his thumb against the curve of his knuckleâa nervous habit, maybe. Or just old memories surfacing.
"You should get some rest," you said quietly, almost reluctantly. It felt wrong to leave, like there was more to say, even if you didnât know what.
"Iâm not good at rest," Logan admitted, voice low.
You gave a soft laugh. "No one is these days."
As you stood up, Loganâs hand moved slightlyâjust enough that the tips of his fingers brushed yours, barely a touch but enough to make your heart skip. You looked down at him, surprised by how natural it felt, like youâd been standing this close to him a thousand times before.
For a moment, it seemed like Logan might say somethingâsomething important. His hand hovered near his pocket, where a small, heavy object pressed against the fabric. But then he stopped himself, his jaw clenching as if heâd changed his mind at the last second.
"Goodnight," you whispered, your voice softer than before.
Logan gave you a short nod, but his eyes followed you as you stepped away, like he was memorizing the momentâlike it might slip away from him if he looked away for even a second.
---
The next morning, when you went to check on Logan, he was sitting on the edge of his bed, buttoning up his shirt over his white beater.
âHeyâwait.â You stepped in front of Logan, your hands instinctively finding his forearm as he finished buttoning his shirt. âYouâre not cleared to leave yet.â
Loganâs eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, something passed between youâlike the echo of a memory, distant but familiar. He gave you a half-smile, the kind that looked more like a grimace, and kept working on the last button.
âGotta go,â he muttered. âDonât do well sittinâ still.â
You crossed your arms, not budging. âDoesnât mean you get to walk out of here half-healed.â
His gaze darkened, jaw clenching as if biting back words. You could tell he didnât like being told what to do, but there was something more in his expressionâsomething haunted, buried beneath that tough exterior.
âYou think I canât handle it?â he asked, voice low, gravelly.
âItâs not about what you can handle.â Your eyes softened, a hint of frustration slipping through. âItâs about whatâs smart. Iâve patched up enough soldiers to know that leavinâ too soon isnât.â
Loganâs lips twitched, like he might argue, but then he stilled, studying you with a strange intensity. The weight of his stare made your breath hitch for a second, but you refused to back down.
âStay,â you insisted. âAt least for another day. Let the wound close properly.â
He exhaled sharply through his nose, like it was more trouble than it was worth to argue with you. âYou always this stubborn?â
A smile tugged at your lips. âYeah. Part of the charm.â
Logan huffed, a reluctant laugh buried somewhere in the sound. He leaned forward slightly, his knees brushing yours where you stood between his legs. The air felt heavierâcharged with something neither of you could quite name.
âY/N...â The way your name left his mouth was different. Familiar, almost reverent, like he was tasting the sound of it after a long time.
Your heart stuttered in your chest. âWhat?â
Loganâs hand drifted toward his pocket, hesitating just for a beat. He seemed to think better of it and instead leaned back, propping himself on his palms like he was trying to keep his distance.
âNothing.â His tone was gruff, evasive, but you knew there was more he wasnât saying.
You stayed where you were, close enough to feel the warmth of him. âYouâre not really going to leave, are you?â
Loganâs lips pressed into a thin line. âShouldnât stick around too long.â
âWhy not?â
He ran a hand through his dark hair, frustrated. âI just shouldnât.â
The words hit you harder than you expected, like they carried the weight of something unsaidâsomething important. But before you could push further, Logan shifted on the bed, brushing past you as if putting space between you would make it easier.
âLook...â His voice softened just slightly, almost apologetic. âYou shouldnât worry about me. Iâve been through worse.â
You tilted your head, watching him carefully. âMaybe. But that doesnât mean you have to go through this alone.â
Loganâs gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, the walls he kept up seemed to crack, just a little. He looked at you like you were someone he wanted to hold onto, but couldnâtâlike youâd slip through his fingers if he let himself get too close.
You leaned in just a bit, your voice barely above a whisper. âLet me help, Logan.â
The way his name fell from your lips sent a flicker of something through himâsomething dangerous, vulnerable, like it meant too much. His breath hitched, and for a second, you thought he might tell you whatever he was holding back.
But instead, he gave you a tight smile, one that didnât quite reach his eyes. âYou already have.â
It felt like the conversation was teetering on the edge of something, but neither of you were ready to tip it over just yet.
âYou win,â he muttered finally, his tone rough but resigned. âIâll stay... one more day.â
You grinned, victorious. âGood. Iâll hold you to that. Maybe Iâll even let ya accompany me to the mess tent for lunch.â You held up a finger, playful but firm. âBut only if youâre good.â
Logan gave a soft huff, the closest thing to a laugh youâd gotten out of him all day. âYou makinâ the rules now?â
âThatâs right,â you said with a smirk. âI am the nurse, after all.â
He shook his head, amused despite himself. âFair enough.â
You lingered a moment longer than necessary, and Logan didnât move away. His hand twitched near his knee, like he was thinking about reaching for you. It wasnât the kind of gesture that strangers madeâit felt too familiar, too intimate, like muscle memory.
âSee ya at lunch, then,â you murmured, trying to shake off the strange pull toward him.
Logan gave a small nod, but his gaze stayed on you as you turned toward the door. Just as you reached it, you glanced back over your shoulder.
âYou better not sneak out while Iâm gone,â you teased, though part of you wasnât sure it was really a joke.
Loganâs lips quirked at the corner, but the look in his eyes was heavy, weighed down with something you couldnât quite place. âWouldnât dream of it.â
---
By the time lunch rolled around, you were half-expecting Logan to be goneâoff on some stubborn mission to leave the hospital before you could stop him. But when you returned, there he was, sitting up on the bed and rolling the sleeves of his shirt to his forearms.
"Kept my end of the bargain," he said, giving you a crooked grin that was more shadow than smile.
âGuess that means you earned lunch.â You gestured toward the door, and Logan pushed himself off the bed with an ease that didnât match the severity of the injury he'd arrived with. You gave him a skeptical glance but decided to let it slideâfor now.
The two of you walked through the makeshift hospital in comfortable silence. You noticed how other soldiers gave him nods or muttered greetings in passing, even though none of them really knew him. Something about Logan just demanded respectâmaybe it was the way he carried himself, or the way his eyes seemed to see right through you.
At the mess tent, you grabbed two metal trays, handing one to him. âHope youâre not picky. The foodâs... not exactly five-star.â
Logan smirked. âIâve had worse.â
You sat together at a small table, away from the loudest group of soldiers. For a moment, it was almost peaceful, like the war outside didnât exist. Logan picked at his food absently, and you couldnât help but study himâhow his hands moved, how his jaw clenched like he was always bracing for bad news.
âSo... youâve done this before?â you asked, breaking the quiet. âThe soldier thing, I mean.â
Logan glanced at you, something flickering in his expression. âYeah. A few times.â
A few times. The way he said it made it sound like more than just a couple of tours.
âMustâve been rough,â you murmured, stirring your soup. âI canât imagine coming back to it over and over.â
Loganâs gaze lingered on you, and for a second, you felt pinned under the weight of it. Like he knew something you didnât. âYou get used to it,â he muttered, but the sadness in his voice told a different story.
There was a beat of silence, and then you leaned forward slightly, your curiosity getting the better of you. âYou ever... think about what youâd do, you know, if you werenât here? If the war wasnât happening?â
Logan stared at his tray, his jaw tightening like he was biting back something painful. âYeah,â he said quietly. âOnce or twice.â
The way he said it made your chest ache, and before you could stop yourself, you asked, âWhat would you do?â
Loganâs thumb brushed along the edge of his trayâa nervous habit, like he was weighing whether to tell you the truth. âThereâs someone,â he said slowly. âSomeone I thought about settlinâ down with... a long time ago.â
You blinked, surprised by the sudden vulnerability in his voice. âWhat happened?â
Logan looked away, his expression hardening like a door slamming shut. âDidnât work out.â
It wasnât the whole storyâyou could tell that much. But you didnât push. There was something in the way he said it, like the loss was still raw, even if it had happened years ago.
âIâm sorry,â you whispered, unsure why you felt the need to say it.
Logan gave a small shrug, like it didnât matter. But you knew better. It did matter. It mattered a lot.
---
After lunch, the two of you lingered outside the tent, neither of you in a rush to return to the chaos inside. The sun was warm on your face, a rare moment of peace in a world that had been anything but peaceful lately.
âYouâre not what I expected,â you said suddenly, glancing at Logan.
He raised an eyebrow. âWhatâd you expect?â
You shrugged, smiling. âI donât know. Maybe someone more... closed off. But youâre not as much of a mystery as you think.â
Logan chuckled, but there was no humor in it. âYouâd be surprised.â
You bit your lip, studying him. âYou feel... familiar,â you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. âLike weâve met before.â
Logan went still, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might brush it off with some sarcastic comment. But instead, he looked at you with that same haunted expression youâd seen earlierâthe one that made your chest tighten.
âMaybe we have,â he said quietly, almost to himself.
The words sent a strange chill down your spine. You stared at him, trying to piece together what he meant. But Logan didnât offer any more answers. He just stood there, watching you like he was waiting for something.
Before you could ask, Sandraâs voice called from the distance, snapping you both out of the moment. âY/N! Doctorâs looking for you.â
You sighed, giving Logan a small, reluctant smile. âDuty calls.â
Logan nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. âYeah. Better get to it.â
You hesitated for just a second longer, something inside you screaming that there was more to thisâmore to him. But instead, you gave him one last smile before turning away.
---
When Logan was alone again, he pulled the ring from his pocket, turning it over in his fingers. The weight of it was familiar, comforting in a way that only hurt more now.
Heâd carried it through battles, through lifetimes, always hopingâmaybe this time. But hope had a way of slipping through his fingers, just like you always did.
Logan clenched the ring in his fist, his jaw tightening. He knew better than to hope. He always did. But still... here you were.
For now, at least.
---
The next day you begrudgingly cleared Logan and showed him to where he would be staying before he got called away for another fight. It was a small quarters, shared with some of the other guys, but it was better than the hospital bed.
You should know. Sometimes youâve taken power naps on those bedsâwhen the hospital got too busy or you needed a break but couldnât leave. They were uncomfortable as hell, but after long hours, you didnât have much choice.
Logan tossed his bag on the bunk, eyeing the cramped quarters. It wasnât muchâjust a room with a few cots and a flimsy curtain dividing it from the rest of the barracksâbut he didnât seem to care.
âYouâll be all right here,â you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe.
Logan smirked, glancing at the bed like it was just another obstacle in his way. âIâve had worse.â
You gave him a sideways glance, shaking your head slightly. âYeah, Iâm starting to see a pattern with you.â
He chuckled, low and gravelly, the sound doing strange things to your heart. His presence was so... solid. Like heâd been through hell and back, yet here he was, standing in front of you like nothing could break him.
âWell, donât get too comfortable,â you added with a smirk. âThereâs always a chance youâll end up back in the infirmary if youâre not careful.â
Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest in a way that made the muscles in his forearms flex under his rolled-up sleeves. âYou worried about me, nurse?â
âMaybe I am,â you teased, keeping it light even though part of you was serious. âI donât want to have to stitch you back up.â
He laughed again, softer this time, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than just casual. âDonât worry about me. Iâll heal.â
The words hung between you, something unspoken settling in. There was always something deeper with Logan, like the surface of his words barely scratched at the things he carried underneath.
Before you could respond, a couple of soldiers passed by, giving Logan nods of acknowledgment as they went. You noticed the way they looked at him, like he was someone whoâd earned their respect without even trying.
Logan pushed off the wall, moving past you toward the door. âThanks for the room,â he said, glancing over his shoulder. âBut I could use a drink.â
You laughed. âWell, good luck with that. This isnât exactly the Ritz.â
He stopped just outside the door, turning back to you. His eyes were sharp, but there was something softer underneath. âYou wanna join me?â
You paused, surprised by the offer. âAre you askinâ me out, Logan?â
His lips twitched into a half-smile. âJust tryinâ to be friendly.â
You let out a small huff of laughter, shaking your head as you grabbed your cap and followed him. âFine. But if youâre looking for whiskey, youâre gonna be disappointed.â
The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of your boots crunching on the gravel road filling the air. The base had quieted down a bit as the sun dipped lower, the day easing into a calm that didnât come often in a warzone.
As you walked, you couldnât help but sneak a glance at Logan from time to time, trying to figure him out. He was so... different. From anyone youâd met. From any soldier youâd treated. And yet, he felt so familiar.
You found a small spot near one of the mess tents where a few crates had been stacked up like makeshift seats. Logan grabbed a canteen from his jacket, unscrewing the cap before taking a long drink. You raised an eyebrow at him.
âThat better be water,â you joked, taking a seat beside him.
Logan handed you the canteen, smirking. âTry it and find out.â
You took a cautious sip, then immediately coughed, the burn of the alcohol catching you off guard. âGodâwhat is this?â
âSomething I picked up,â Logan said, eyes gleaming with amusement as you wiped your mouth. âFigured itâd help take the edge off.â
You gave him a playful glare, handing the canteen back. âNext time, a little warning, maybe?â
Logan shrugged, grinning. âWhereâs the fun in that?â
You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. âYouâre trouble, Logan.â
He chuckled, leaning back against the crate. âBeen called worse.â
The two of you sat there in comfortable silence for a few moments, passing the canteen back and forth. The alcohol burned, but it wasnât the worst thing youâd ever tastedânot by a long shot. And it did what Logan said it wouldâit took the edge off.
You studied him for a moment, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, even when he was sitting still. âYou feel familiar,â you said quietly, your voice almost drowned out by the soft sounds of the base around you. âLike weâve met before.â
Loganâs expression shiftedâjust for a second. His jaw tightened, his gaze flickering away from you and toward the horizon. âMaybe we have,â he murmured, his voice so low you almost didnât catch it.
The words sent a strange, unexplainable shiver down your spine. You opened your mouth to ask him what he meant, but before you could, he stood up, stretching his arms over his head like he was shaking something off.
âCâmon,â he said, his voice lighter now, almost like he was forcing it. âYou ready to head back?â
You blinked, still caught in the haze of the moment. But you nodded, standing up and brushing the dirt from your uniform. âYeah, I guess so.â
The two of you walked back toward the barracks in silence, the air between you feeling heavier now. Something had shiftedâsomething you couldnât quite put your finger on. But you knew it wasnât nothing.
When you reached the barracks, Logan stopped at the door, turning to look at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.
âY/N,â he started, his voice rougher than usual, like he was wrestling with something inside him. âIf... if things ever get bad, you find me. Got it?â
You frowned, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. âLogan, whatââ
âIâm serious,â he interrupted, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. âYou find me. No matter what.â
You swallowed, nodding slowly. âOkay. I will.â
He held your gaze for a second longer, then nodded, like he was satisfied with your answer. âGood.â
Without another word, Logan turned and headed inside, leaving you standing there, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket.
What did he mean? Why did he look at you like he knew something you didnât?
You lingered there for a moment before finally heading to your own quarters. But even as you lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, Loganâs words echoed in your mind.
You find me. No matter what.
---
The next few days were a strange mix of routine and tension. Logan stayed around the base, mostly keeping to himself, but you found yourself crossing paths with him more often than you expected. Every time, there was that same intensity in his gaze, like he was watching you, waiting for something.
It wasnât uncomfortable, exactly. But it did make your chest tighten every time you saw him.
One evening, as the sun began to set, you found yourself wandering toward the edge of the base, needing a moment to clear your head. The war, the patients, the constant pressureâit was all getting to you. And Logan... well, Logan wasnât making things any easier.
You were so lost in your thoughts that you didnât notice him until he spoke.
âNeed some company?â
You jumped slightly, turning to find Logan leaning against a tree, arms crossed over his chest, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
âJeez, you scared me,â you said, placing a hand over your heart.
âDidnât mean to sneak up on you,â he said, pushing off the tree and walking over to stand beside you. âYou looked like you could use some company.â
You sighed, glancing out at the fading sun. âYeah, I guess I could.â
Logan didnât say anything for a moment, just stood there beside you, his presence solid and reassuring. After a few beats of silence, he spoke.
âYou doinâ all right?â he asked, his voice softer than usual.
You shrugged, trying to brush it off. âItâs just... a lot sometimes, you know?â
Logan nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. âYeah. I get it.â
There was something in the way he said itâsomething that made you believe he really did get it. Like he knew exactly what it felt like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.
âThanks for asking,â you said quietly, your gaze still focused on the horizon.
Logan was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. âI meant what I said before,â he murmured. âYou ever need anything... you come find me.â
You turned to look at him, the seriousness in his voice catching you off guard. âLogan... why are you doinâ this? Why are you looking out for me?â
Loganâs jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he wasnât going to answer. But then he spoke, his voice low and rough. âBecause... youâre important. More than you know.â
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Important? How? Why?
Before you could ask, Logan stepped closer, his eyes locked onto yours. âJust promise me,â he said, his voice barely above a whisper. âPromise me youâll come find me if you need to.â
You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. âI promise.â
Logan held your gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, satisfied. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your head spinning with questions.
Youâre important. More than you know.
What did that mean? Why did Logan feel so... familiar?
As the sun dipped below the horizon, you stood there, your mind racing. Logan had secretsâsecrets you werenât sure you were ready to uncover. But one thing was clear: whatever was between the two of you, it wasnât over. Not by a long shot.
---
On another day, you spotted Logan on the outskirts of base, sitting against a truckâs wheel with a notebook in hand.
He looked almost peaceful, maybe the most peaceful youâd ever seen him since he got here. Judging by the way he was moving his pencil, you assumed he was drawing something. You hesitated, not wanting to disturb him, but your curiosity got the better of you.
"Didnât peg you for an artist," you said, walking over and leaning against the truck beside him.
Logan didnât look up right away, just kept sketching, but there was a small smirk on his lips. "You learn a lot when youâve got time," he muttered.
You glanced at the notebook, catching glimpses of rough lines and shadows. âWhatâre you drawing?â
He paused, almost like he wasnât sure if he wanted to show you, then turned the notebook just enough for you to see. It was a sketch of the baseâa surprisingly detailed one, with the buildings and surrounding trees, even some of the soldiers milling about.
âNot bad,â you said, genuinely impressed. âDidnât know you had this in you.â
Logan shrugged, as if it was no big deal. âLike I said, a lot of time.â He looked at you then, and for a brief moment, there was something more behind his eyes, something deeper. âKeeps me grounded.â
You studied him, wondering what that really meant. Logan had always been a bit of a mystery, but there were momentsâlike nowâwhere it felt like there was so much more to him than he let on.
âYou ever thought about doing something with it? You know, beyond just sketches?â you asked, half teasing, half curious.
Logan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. âIâm not the âshow-off my artâ type. Itâs just... for me.â He glanced back at the drawing, his expression softening in a way you didnât often see. âHelps me forget.â
You nodded, feeling a tug at your chest. âForget what?â
For a moment, he didnât answer. Then he said, âEverything.â
The weight in his voice told you there was more to that statementâmore than you could guess. Youâd learned over the past few days that Logan was carrying his own kind of burden, just like you were. And yet, somehow, it felt like his was so much heavier.
âMust be a lot to forget,â you said softly.
Loganâs gaze flicked up to meet yours, and for a second, you thought he might actually open up. But instead, he just gave a noncommittal grunt and went back to his sketching.
You watched him for a while, feeling the comfortable silence settle between you. It was odd, but Loganâs presence had become... something you looked forward to. Even with all the unspoken tension, being around him made things feel a little less overwhelming.
âI never thanked you,â you said after a while, breaking the quiet. âFor, you know... looking out for me.â
Loganâs pencil paused again, and he glanced up. âYou donât have to thank me.â
âI do,â you insisted, your eyes meeting his. âYou didnât have to. But you did.â
Logan shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable with the gratitude, but his eyes softened. âI told you. Youâre important.â
That word againâimportant. You wanted to ask him why, wanted to press him on what he really meant by that, but something in his expression told you he wasnât ready to answer. Not yet.
âJust⌠stay outta trouble,â Logan said, his voice dropping into something rougher, more serious. âIâd rather not have to pull you out of any more messes.â
You smiled, trying to keep things light. âIâll do my best. But, you know, being a nurse in the middle of a war, trouble kinda finds me.â
Logan let out a soft huff of a laugh, though there wasnât much humor in it. âYeah, I guess it does.â
The sky was growing darker now, the last traces of sunlight fading. You knew you should probably head back to the barracks soon, but something kept you rooted to the spot, standing beside him. The air between you felt charged, like there was something unspoken hanging there, waiting to be acknowledged.
âLogan,â you began, your voice quiet but steady. âWhy does it feel like youâve been watching me? Not just looking out for me, but... like youâve known me.â
Loganâs jaw tightened. His eyes shifted, as if he was deciding whether to answer that. You could feel your heart thudding in your chest, waiting for his response.
âI havenât,â he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction. âNot in the way youâre thinking.â
The way he said it made you frown. âWhat does that mean?â
Loganâs gaze held yours, intense and searching. There was a flicker of something thereâregret? Pain? Before you could figure it out, he looked away, his fingers tightening around the edges of the notebook.
âIt means⌠I donât want you to get hurt,â he said, his voice low, almost a growl. âNot again.â
Again. There it wasâa crack in the wall heâd built around himself. But before you could push him on it, Logan stood abruptly, tucking the notebook under his arm.
âYou should get some rest,â he muttered, not meeting your eyes. âLong day tomorrow.â
You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden shift. âLoganââ
But he was already walking away, his back stiff and his pace quick. You watched him go, your mind spinning with more questions than answers. Something was going on with Loganâsomething bigger than youâd realized.
And you had a feeling you werenât going to let it go until you found out the truth.
---
The next morning you found out that Logan had already gone on some mission to Sicily. You werenât sure why you felt sad, maybe a bit betrayed that he left without saying goodbye, but you did.
You had only known him for a few days, but somehow it seemed longer.
You couldnât just stand around and dwell on Logan leaving without a goodbye. There was work to do. You made your way to the medical tent where a doctor had been prepping for a surgery. As you stepped inside, the familiar scent of antiseptic hit your nose, grounding you in the moment.
"Y/N, glad youâre here. Weâve got a soldier with a bullet wound to the abdomen," the doctor said, his tone brisk. "I need your hands steady and sharp today."
You nodded, pushing thoughts of Logan to the back of your mind. "Got it, Doctor."
The surgery went on for hours, the steady rhythm of your breathing matching the precise movements of your hands as you assisted. It was intense, but you had no time to be distracted. Life and death were real here, and your job was to fight for life.
When the surgery was finally over, the soldier stabilized, you stepped outside the tent to catch your breath. The sky was still overcast, and the damp air felt heavy. You leaned against a wooden post, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.
Logan was gone, but the memory of him lingered. You couldnât shake the feeling that heâd left something unsaid. There had been too many momentsâtoo many heavy, unspoken words between you. You tried to brush it off. It had only been a few days since youâd met him, after all. But somehow, it felt like more.
"Y/N."
You looked up to see one of the other nurses approaching. "Yeah?"
"Youâve been requested to assist with another unit. Theyâre setting up a temporary hospital closer to the front lines. Itâll be rough, but they need experienced hands."
You hesitated. The front lines meant more danger, more chaos. But the soldier in youâthe part that was here to help, to make a differenceâknew you couldnât say no.
"When do I leave?" you asked, straightening up.
"Tomorrow morning, first light."
You nodded, giving a small smile. "Thanks for the heads-up."
That night, you tried to sleep, but your mind kept wandering back to Logan. To his last words before heâd leftâ"I donât want you to get hurt. Not again." What had he meant by âagainâ? It kept echoing in your mind, nagging at you.
---
The next morning came quickly, and before you knew it, you were being packed into a truck heading closer to the front lines. The landscape passed by in a blur, and the closer you got to the new camp, the louder the sounds of war became. Shells exploded in the distance, and the ground seemed to vibrate with tension.
You spent the next few days in a haze of blood, bandages, and exhaustion. There was barely any time to think, let alone dwell on Logan. But still, every once in a while, your thoughts drifted to himâwondering where he was, what he was doing. If he was safe.
It was late one night, a few days into your new assignment, when the unexpected happened. The sirens had started to blare, lights flashing around camp. That could only mean one thing- you were under attack. And judging by the loud engines overhead, none of you were going to make it out alive.
---
Logan had gone with other soldiers to Sicily for Operation Husky. He didnât want to leave you, but part of him thought, hoped, that maybe he was your bad luck charm.
Logan stared at the coastline of Sicily, but his mind was elsewhere. The mission was straightforwardâget in, clear the path for the troops, and secure the area. But no matter how focused he tried to stay, thoughts of you kept creeping back in. He wondered if you were safe. He hoped, for your sake, that you werenât thinking about him as much as he was thinking about you.
It was torture, being away. But deep down, Logan believed it was better this way. Maybe him being around was what doomed you every time. You had died three times before, and each time, he had been there. Maybe this time, distance would keep you safe.
But that didnât stop him from wanting you. The thought of your smile, your laughter, the way you challenged himâit made him ache with something deeper than just desire. It was like an old wound that never healed, no matter how fast the rest of him did.
One of the soldiers called his name, pulling him from his thoughts. âLogan, you with us, man?â
He grunted in response, nodding toward the others. âYeah, Iâm here.â
âGood,â the guy said. âWeâre heading out.â
Logan followed, but his thoughts drifted again, back to you. He had promised himself he wouldnât get attached this time. But it was too late for that. Heâd been attached since 1854, since that first smile, that first laugh.
---
It was a few days before Logan made it back to base, one closer to the frontlines. The mission had gone as planned, but something gnawed at him, an uneasy feeling he couldnât shake.
As soon as the base came into view, Logan noticed something was off. Smoke still lingered in the air, and there were fewer people around than there shouldâve been. His gut twisted. Something had happened while he was gone.
He found one of the soldiers he recognized, grabbing him by the arm. âWhat happened here?â
The guyâs face darkened. âWe were hit. Bombing raid. Caught us off guard. There... there werenât many survivors.â
Loganâs heart dropped. âWhereâs the hospital unit?â
The soldier hesitated, eyes flicking away from Loganâs intense gaze. âIt was one of the first targets. No one made it out.â
Logan felt like the ground had dropped from under him. âWhat do you mean, no one?â His voice was a low growl, almost dangerous.
The soldier shook his head. âIâm sorry, man. They didnât stand a chance.â
Loganâs hands clenched into fists at his sides. The world around him blurred as the words sank in. You were gone. Again.
Without saying another word, Logan turned and walked toward what was left of the hospital tent. He had to see it for himself, even though part of him knew it was true. There was nothing left but rubble and debris.
His chest tightened, the weight of it crushing. You were gone. And he hadnât been there to stop it. Again.
Logan stood there for what felt like hours, staring at the wreckage. He felt that familiar, burning anger rising inside him, but it was mixed with something else this timeâgrief. Deep, raw grief. He wanted to scream, to punch something, anything, but all he could do was stand there, numb.
He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the small velvet box he always carried with him. The engagement ring. The one he had never used.
It had been almost ninety years since he bought it. And still, he carried it, hoping one day he might finally be able to give it to you. But every time, every life, you slipped through his fingers.
Logan swallowed hard, his throat tight. He wasnât sure how much more of this he could take. How many more times he could lose you.
âDammit,â he muttered under his breath, his voice rough with emotion.
He had thought putting distance between you two would protect you. But it didnât matter. You were gone, just like the other times.
And now, once again, he was left with nothing but memories and that damned ring.
in this chapter logan is 111 years old and reader is around 24-27 years old.
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#james howlett x reader#james howlett x you#logan howlett#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett fic#i love you in every time
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warning: this is jus' a short drabble, Simon being soft, but only for you
RAHHHHHH m' a sucker for those tropes where a character with a title uses their real name for their lover who's dying. Like imagine that with Simon.
You're shaking. There's blood on your hand from where you touched your abdomen. But this isn't right, you thought. You were fine just a moment ago. You blinked, and now you're in your lieutenants arms. He's barking orders at you to stay awake. Keep your eyes on him, and steady your breath.
Everything from your waist down hurts and you scream when Simon applies pressure to your wound. You've had close calls before, but never once had you actually been shot. This is your first time, and it's starting to feel like the last.
You don't even know when you've started crying, but you're scared. You didn't want to die. You were too young. You wanted to get to see more of the world that isn't just blood on the battlefield. You didn't want to die.
But that wasn't your choice to make.
Maybe it was your time. Maybe you knew. Because you're looking up at Simon with all the love you've yet to show him and for a second it makes him stop screaming for evac. His eyes are on you and he hated that almost peaceful look in your eyes. He's seen it alot on former colleagues. Acceptance.
"....Lieutenant..?.."
No
"..It's Simon, love. It's your Simon...."
a/n: Sorry that this is trashy đ Classes are fucking me up and this might be the only thing I can post for today. But I do have quite a lot of ideas in my drafts which I might finish on the weekends. I'll make it up to you guys I swear đĽ˛. I hope you're having a wonderful day/night, my darlings!
Yours, truly,
âdolly
#cod x reader#cod imagine#call of duty x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#x gn reader#x female reader#x male reader#ghost x reader angst
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Orc! Husband who is a great warrior and leader, knows nothing but being used as a sword, a means to an end who's disillusioned and tired and accepts he's gonna die another pawn in another war, meeting a sweet human, a peasant from a local village who sees him as so much more. (The idea of some large war worn orc getting his scarred face caressed for the first time, being touched kindly for the first time having lived a lifetime of war)
i love this anon
warnings/tags- war mentions, i dont give the orc a name (i just call him orc/him) reader is gn (please dm me if their are any mistakes you see)
sorry this took so long for me to post
word count- 1667
The world was caught in a cycle of war. It was all you had ever knownâvillages burnt, homes lost, and people fleeing. The once fertile land surrounding your small village had been reduced to ash by decades of fighting. Your family had passed when you were young, victims of an earlier invasion. Now, you lived alone on the outskirts, tending to a humble garden, surviving day by day, hidden away from the larger conflicts that ravaged the region.
One day, word spread that another army was passing through. hims, they said. Great and terrible warriors, driven by bloodlust, used as weapons by those who wished to conquer the land. The mere mention of them sent shivers down your spine. You'd never seen an orc before, but the tales of their brutality haunted your nights.
But life had to go on. War was as much a part of your existence as the soil beneath your feet. Youâd tended your small garden early in the morning, pulling weeds and harvesting what little grew in the rough soil, when you saw him.
He was massiveânearly seven feet tall with broad shoulders and green, scarred skin that glistened under the midday sun. He moved like a predator, every step deliberate and filled with the weight of someone who knew the battlefield like the back of his hand. His face was hard, worn from years of battle. His tusks jutted out from his lower jaw, and his eyes, dark and tired, scanned the landscape without emotion. His armor was dented and scratched, his war axe hanging loosely by his side.
You froze in place, heart pounding in your chest. He hadnât noticed you yet, but his presence was enough to send a bolt of fear through your spine. Should you run? Hide? But as you hesitated, he turned his gaze in your direction, his sharp eyes locking with yours.
He didnât move.
You held your breath, waiting for him to charge, to raise his axe, to shout in fury as the stories had always described. But he didnât. He just stood there, staring at you. His posture was tense, but there was no hostility in his eyes. Just exhaustion, a deep weariness that went beyond the physical.Â
Slowly, you stood, wiping your hands on your apron as you tried to gather your courage. âI-Iâm not armed,â you stammered, not knowing what else to say. Your voice trembled, but you stood your ground, unable to look away from the giant in front of you.
He blinked slowly, as if processing your words. His brow furrowed, and for the first time, his lips parted to speak. His voice was gravelly, deep and tired. âI am⌠not here to fight.â
His words shocked you. Orcs were supposed to be mindless brutes, weren't they? Tools of war and destruction. But there was something in his voiceâsomething that told you he was more than that. Something that hinted at a story far deeper than the legends you'd grown up with.
"I... I see," you replied, unsure of what to do with this information. "Why are you here, then?"
him seemed to consider this for a moment. His eyes drifted across the barren landscape, as if searching for an answer he didnât have. Finally, he spoke again, his words slow and deliberate. âI was following orders. But the battle is done. And now, I am here.â
There was a sadness in his voice, a resignation that tugged at your heart. You hadnât known kindness in a long time yourself, not since the war had taken everything from you. And here stood a creatureâa warriorâwho had clearly suffered more than most. It was a strange feeling, but you didnât want to leave him there, lost in his own despair.
You took a tentative step forward. âDo you⌠do you need help?â
Heturned to face you fully now, eyes narrowing slightly. âHelp?â he echoed, as if the word was foreign to him.
You nodded, swallowing your fear as best as you could. âYes. I⌠I donât know much about orcs, but⌠if youâre lost, or need food, I can offer you what little I have.â
He seemed taken aback. His dark eyes softened, just for a moment, and you could see the wariness in him begin to waver. âWhy?â he asked, genuinely puzzled. âWhy would you help me?â
You bit your lip, unsure of how to explain it yourself. "Because... you seem like youâve had enough pain. And I know what thatâs like."
He stared at you, unblinking, as if trying to decipher your words. Then, without a word, he sheathed his axe, the sound of metal scraping metal filling the silence between you.
"I am Orc," he said simply, as though it was the only name he had ever known.
You offered him a small, hesitant smile. "I'm... I'm Y/N. Come, if you're hungry, I have some food. It's not much, but it's something."
And so it began. He followed you back to your small home, his massive presence intimidating, yet strangely protective. Over the next few days, you learned more about himânot through stories, but through his actions. He wasnât the mindless killer youâd feared. He was quiet, thoughtful even, though his words were few. He helped you in the garden, chopping wood with ease, fixing things around the house that had been neglected for too long. He never spoke of the war or the battles he had fought, but the scars on his body told enough of the story.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you sat together by a small fire. The crackling of the flames was the only sound between you for a while, until you finally gathered the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at you for days.
â.. why did you stay?â
He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he wouldnât answer. But then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke. âI have known nothing but war. I was made for it. Used for it. There was always another battle, another fight. I thought that was all there was.â
You watched him carefully, noticing how his hands clenched and unclenched as he spoke.
âBut when I met youâŚâ His voice trailed off, as if he was unsure how to continue. âYou did not look at me as a weapon. You did not fear me.â
Your heart ached for him. Slowly, you reached out, placing your hand gently on his arm. His skin was rough and scarred, but beneath it, you could feel the warmth of someone who had long been deprived of kindness. His entire body tensed under your touch, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away.
But he didnât.
Instead, he looked down at your hand, his brow furrowing in confusion, as if he couldnât comprehend why someone would want to touch him in such a way. He had known nothing but pain and violenceâhis body bore the marks of countless battles, each one a reminder of what he was made to do.
Gently, you let your fingers brush against his face, tracing the deep scars that lined his jaw and cheek. His breath hitched, and for the first time, you saw something break in his eyes. He wasnât just a warrior. He was someone who had been used and discarded, left to fight battles that werenât his own.
"Youâre more than just a weapon," you whispered softly, your voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "You deserve more than this life of war."
He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if it was the first time someone had ever reached out to him with kindness. The tension in his body melted away, and for a brief moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from his shoulders.
âI⌠donât know how to be anything else,â he admitted, his voice strained with vulnerability.
"Then let me show you," you said, your thumb gently brushing across his scarred cheek. "Let me show you that there's more to life than fighting."
In that moment, something shifted between you. The wall he had built around himself began to crumble, and him, the warrior who had known nothing but war, allowed himself to hope. Hope for something more, something better.
And in that hope, you both found solace.
---
As the days passed, he stayed. What had once been a strange and cautious arrangement became a companionship neither of you had expected. He helped you tend the garden, his strength turning the earth with ease. You taught him how to appreciate the small thingsâthe sound of the wind in the trees, the feeling of warm sunlight on his skin, the simple joy of sharing a meal with someone who cared.
And slowly, he began to open up. He told you stories of his battles, not with pride, but with a sense of regret, of loss. He had been a tool, a weapon wielded by others, never given the chance to choose his own path.
But now, with you, he had found something different. Something worth fighting forânot with a sword, but with his heart.
You fell in love, slowly but surely. It was in the quiet moments, the shared glances, the way he protected you without ever needing to raise his weapon. And one night, as the stars twinkled overhead, you whispered the words that had been growing in your heart.
âI love you.â
He stared at you, his dark eyes filled with an emotion so raw, so powerful, that it nearly took your breath away. âI⌠love you too, Y/N.â
For the first time in his life, he let himself be vulnerable. He let himself feel something other than the cold steel of a weapon in his hand, something other than the rage of battle that had driven him for so long. He let himself feel love.
#divider by pink horizon#monster fucker#monster#creature#monster x human#tw monsterfucking#creature design#monster art#monster oc#monster girl#monster lover#monster design#orc romance#orc fucker#orc x human#orc x reader#orc#this doesnt relate to woven bonds#fantasy creature#creature art#human#monster x male#monster x reader#monster x you#monster x female
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Ratchet, being interviewed: âIâve seen the horrors of war. Iâve seen countless bots die in the battlefield, in space, in my arms. Iâve see bots being blown up, eviscerated, decapitated, drawn and quartered, tortured, beaten, and vivisected before my optics, but there is one thing I fear above all else.â
Human, coming in for the fourth time that week with an interfacing related injury: âHey, Ratchet, itâs your favorite patient!â
Ratchet: âPrimus, if you exist somewhere out there, take me nowâŚâ
â
Meanwhile, Rung in his office alone: âHmm? Oh strange, I thought someone called for meâŚOh well.â
Continues his work from before.
#idw transformers#tf idw#transformers#transformers idw#maccadam#mtmte#tf mtmte#idw mtmte#transformers mtmte#transformers x human#human x transformer#ratchet#rung#valveplug#ratchet mtmte#mtmte rung#heâs seem so much stuff to traumatize someone for a lifetime but itâs the little human liaison that is the bane of his medical career#the fact he has to be the one to document some of these ailments or sicknesses human develops from interfacing is almost too much for him#primus help this bot#heâs too old to be dealing with this stuff
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