#before they went on to all try and kill one another because of their differing ideas

[dark-wackademia]

uh, "i just need to focus on myself right now, thanks for understanding", and then do that regardless of how they react because you deserve to take care of yourself.

also, controversial opinion: you really don't need to explain yourself to anyone, ESPECIALLY when you're in a place like this. babes, your first priority is to let go of that feeling of worrying how others will take you living your best life/feeling obligation to anyone but yourself in order to start living authentically to you and doing whatever you need to for yourself.

secondly: you can do that for maintaining a healthy state so that you don't reach this place too, like preventative medicine... people forget it's worth much more than the methods we enact once at a later stage with something that could have been perhaps avoided all together, if not lessened had we caught it earlier. something i wish more people really understood is that you don't need to be AT deaths door or burnout/this level of not doing well to step back and get back to basics for yourself. imho, you can stay there as long as you need since we all interact with the world differently, and so, we all have varying needs, and those needs shift. sometimes, for a long while, you'll need to stick to being minimal in one area of life to create a sense of peace and balance for yourself in areas that matter more, at that time, and then reverse areas at another point in life. it's alright to just need to do what you need to in order to feel the best you can in life. it's kind of your only real job for yourself because it is YOUR life, after all. and no, that's NOT being selfish, because i hate when people i know take this time that their bodies, minds, and souls are crying out for them to only to frame it in "it's okay to be selfish". taking care of yourself (even if your support needs at the moment, or even in general, long-term, are high) does NOT equate to being selfish AT ALL.

repeat instead the mantras like "i can't pour from an empty cup" and keep in mind that you DONT want to wait until your cups empty. in other words, you don't need to keep pouring just because you have something in your cup. it's okay to keep yourself for yourself. if you have the time and energy, it doesn't mean you need to give it, even if you have been doing maintenance for a while. let go of that guilt, shame, and obligation you feel for simply existing and living. you deserve to enjoy yourself too. you deserve to enjoy your own time and energy before giving it away (even if you want to, which i get is a hard middle ground to strike but in time you'll find it). it's much more enjoyable when you do it this way. try to think about it in the way of water, if you went around literally pouring your water into everyone's cup just because you have even a drop, you'd end up killing yourself because you're drinking nothing. even a little, even half a cup is still not enough. framing it in that way has helped me shed the internalized ablism I had for most of my life, being someone that needs to support myself by a lot of alone time, especially, made me vulnerable to people who socialize more shaping my own perception as negative towards my natural inclination. now that i've let go of this, and keep doing so, i find i actually want to socialize more and find it more energizing whenever i do. i even make it a priority now, instead of finding it to be a chore, as i once had. also, i rec socializing only in areas of interest when you're craving some but are low on energy and vibes to give.

hope this helps someone. <3

also, i think people will understand, and even if they don't, in time, you'll meet someone who does. give yourself that space and time you need so you don't burn yourself out on ones who don't, so you're not burnt out for the ones who come along and get you.

[cupofteatoyou2]

Told you I’d survive the wolves.

Jana had been pacing since she got out of the shower. Back and forth across the room, muttering to herself, tugging at the hem of her shirt like she’d forgotten how clothes worked.

You were stretched out on her bed, watching her. One arm folded behind your head, the other resting across your stomach, calm as ever.

“Babe,” she said, whirling around. “Can you at least pretend to be nervous?”

You blinked slowly. “Why?”

“Because I’m bringing you to meet my entire team,” she groaned, collapsing at the edge of the bed dramatically. “They’re loud. Nosy. Half of them are obsessed with me. And Irene and Alexia are going to destroy you if they sense even a crack in your armor.”

You shrugged. “Let them try.”

She groaned again, flopping fully onto her back next to you. “This is a bad idea. You’re too quiet. You don’t do people. You don’t do dinners.”

“I do you,” you said easily, letting the tease hang in the air.

Jana rolled her eyes, cheeks flushing despite herself. “You know what I mean.”

You turned your head toward her, gaze softening. “You want me there?”

“More than anything.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

That shut her up. For a second. Until she muttered, “They’re gonna think you’re, like, my bodyguard or something. The silent type in a suit who probably knows five different ways to kill a man.”

You smirked. “Six, actually.”

“Not helping!”

The restaurant was already packed when you arrived — not with strangers, but with noise, energy, heat from a recent match win that was still vibrating off every player at the table.

Laughter echoed, someone was retelling a foul in way too much detail, a waiter was trying to squeeze past with another round of drinks. It was chaos. Pure, glorious, post-game chaos.

You adjusted your jacket before you stepped inside. Fitted black, open over a plain tee. The rest of you was clean — well-fitted pants, boots, watch. Minimal. Purposeful. You weren’t flashy, but you did turn heads.

And the moment Jana stepped in behind you, slipping her hand into yours, the entire table went silent.

Like, comically so.

You could hear a fork clatter against a plate. Someone coughed. A glass hit the wood with a loud clink.

Twelve world-class footballers froze mid-bite, all eyes on you. You scanned the group once, slow and level. You weren’t being intimidating on purpose — it was just the way you were. Calm. Controlled. Still.

You looked like you were about to audit the restaurant. Or pull Jana away from danger. Definitely not like someone showing up for a date night with her giggly, golden girlfriend.

Mapi’s jaw dropped first. “No way.”

Ona, halfway through sipping her water, choked.

Patri, always the mouthiest, squinted like she was trying to decode a riddle. “She’s real.”

“Wait—this is her?” Pina leaned in.

“She looks like she should be head of security,” vicky added from the middle of the table, half-grinning.

Jana just beamed. Radiant. Unbothered. Proud. “Everyone, this is my girlfriend.”

There was a beat of dead silence again, and then-

Mapi, hand raised like she was pointing out a glitch in the simulation “She looks like she could break my ribs just by looking at me.”

Patri nodded solemnly. “Honestly? Same.”

You didn’t react. Just gave a nod. Calm. Unfazed. You were used to people trying to figure you out in the first five seconds.

No one ever got it right.

You guided Jana to her seat like it was second nature — a hand on her lower back, holding out the chair, waiting until she was settled before taking the one beside her. Your arm brushed hers. You didn’t move away.

Across the table, Alexia sat with her arms crossed, face unreadable. She hadn’t said a word yet.

You noticed. You noticed everything.

“So,” Mapi said slowly, tilting her head toward you. “You don’t talk much, huh?”

You gave a small shrug. “Not unless I need to.”

“Great,” Patri muttered, slapping the table. “We got the strong, silent type. Mystery girlfriend unlocked.”

Jana nudged you gently, like she was trying to remind everyone you were human.

“She’s just quiet around new people,” she said. “She’s actually really sweet. Once you get past the—uh—‘silent and maybe lethal’ vibe.”

You raised a brow. “Maybe?”

That earned a couple chuckles — tentative, curious ones.

“So,” Ona leaned in, chin on her palm, “what do you do, anyway?”

Jana immediately stiffened.

You glanced at her, then back at the group. “Something a little untraditional.”

“Like what? Tech? Security? Mercenary?” Patri was definitely not kidding.

“Something like that.”

“Okay what does that mean,” Mapi asked. “Now I’m invested. You can’t just say you’re a mystery woman and not elaborate.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Still. You look like someone who’s used to saying no comment.”

You took a sip of your drink. “Only when necessary.”

There was a short silence as they all stared at you like you were the main character in a mystery novel.

Jana, clearly trying to save you from further questions and possibly herself from exploding, leaned forward with a quick, “Let’s talk about the game instead!”

But across the table, Alexia finally spoke.

“Huh.”

That was it. One syllable. Loaded.

Jana looked over, instantly on guard. “What?”

Alexia didn’t break eye contact with you. “Nothing. Just didn’t expect this.”

“This?” Jana echoed.

She shrugged. “She’s not what I pictured.”

You didn’t flinch. “Most people don’t picture right.”

Alexia smiled, tight-lipped. “Apparently.”

Jana was fuming now, opening her mouth—but you brushed your fingers lightly over her knee under the table.

Not here. Not yet.

They didn’t know who you were. They didn’t know what you could do.

And that? That was the fun part.

You’d barely made it through the starters when the questions started rolling in.

It began innocently enough—soft curiosity hidden behind polite smiles and wine glasses. You could feel it coming before it even started, the shift in atmosphere, the rising energy across the table as everyone began to relax. Not at you, though. About you.

It was a look you’d gotten before—like someone trying to read a novel without the cover. You looked too composed. Too guarded. Too not what they expected.

Jana had kept her body angled toward you the entire time, her knee brushing yours beneath the table, hand occasionally resting on your thigh like a quiet reassurance. But you knew she was waiting for it too—for someone to break the silence, to ask what they were all clearly thinking.

So when Irene set her fork down and leaned over the table with a sly grin, you didn’t even blink.

“Okay,” she said. “I need to ask. Who are you, really?”

Jana groaned softly beside you. “Irene—”

“No, no, I mean it,” Irene continued, gesturing toward you. “You walk in here like a damn bodyguard, you haven’t said more than five words, and you’ve been scowling at the bread basket like it owes you money. I need context.”

The girls laughed, a few of them chiming in with agreement.

You met Iren’s eyes, calm. “You want my résumé?”

“Absolutely.”

You leaned back a little in your chair, finally speaking with a slow, even tone. “Name’s Y/N. I’m twenty-two. Born and raised in Madrid. I play professionally—different sport. Moved to Barcelona last year.”

“Oh no,” Patri said. “A rival athlete. This is getting spicy.”

“What sport?” Vicky asked.

You paused just long enough to keep them curious, then answered simply, “We’ll get there.”

A wave of mock outrage passed through the table. Kika fake gasped. Ona raised her brows in silent challenge. Jana just buried her face in her hands.

“You’re enjoying this,” she muttered under her breath.

“A little,” you whispered back, the corner of your mouth twitching.

“So how did you two meet, then?” Ona asked, chin propped on her hand as she studied you.

“Friend’s birthday,” you said. “Jana knocked over a tray of drinks. I caught one.”

“I caught two!” Jana corrected indignantly.

“You did,” you agreed, smiling softly. “But mine was tequila, and I hate wasting tequila.”

“Love at first spill,” Mapi nodded dramatically. “Classic.”

“She was so smug about it too,” Jana said, sitting up straighter now. “Didn’t even blink. Just handed it back to me and said I owed her a drink.”

You shrugged. “You did.”

The group collectively cooed and groaned, depending on their wine intake.

“But wait,” Patri said, leaning in now. “How long has this been going on?”

“Almost a six month ,” Jana answered quickly.

Cue another round of chaos.

“A six month ?!” Kika exclaimed.

“You’ve had a secret girlfriend for a whole half year and didn’t say anything?” Vicky gasped.

“She didn’t hide me,” you said calmly. “We just… didn’t want to make things complicated.”

“She wanted to keep you all to herself,” Mapi said, pretending to wipe a tear. “Selfish.”

“You’re all chaos,” Jana muttered.

“True,” said Ona, sipping from her glass. “But chaos knows how to interrogate.”

“Which brings us back to the question,” Patri added. “What do you do?”

You exchanged a glance with Jana. She hesitated. So you answered for her.

“I fight.”

Dead silence.

“I’m sorry, what?” Mapi blinked.

You didn’t raise your voice. Didn’t make a scene. You said it the way someone else might say teacher or accountant.

“I’m an MMA fighter.”

For half a second, the table didn’t register it. Then—

“Like… real fighting?” Kika asked.

“Cage matches,” you confirmed. “Amateur when I was younger. Turned pro two years ago.”

Vicky’s jaw dropped.

Mapi blinked at you like she’d seen a ghost. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope.”

Ona put her fork down. “Oh my god. That explains so much.”

“Wait—so much?” Jana asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Have you seen the way she walks?” Kika said. “Like someone who knows they can win a fight they haven’t even been challenged to yet.”

“And the arms,” Ona added casually. “She looks like she could lift a car.”

You gave a soft chuckle. “Only the small ones.”

Then came Alexia.

She hadn’t said much all night, but the second you said fighter, something behind her eyes sharpened. She set her knife down with purpose, posture stiff, voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

“Of course you’re a fighter.”

You turned to her slowly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Alexia leaned back in her seat, arms folded. “Nothing. Just… explains the serious face. The whole silent and brooding thing.”

Jana sat straighter, protective now. “Lex—”

“It’s alright,” you said softly, still looking at Alexia. “I get it. I don’t look like the kind of person you pictured her dating.”

“You look like someone who could snap a neck if provoked,” she said bluntly.

A few nervous laughs around the table.

You didn’t blink “I’ve been in cages, rings, and fights with people twice my size,” you said, voice calm, controlled. “None of that scares me. But the idea of hurting Jana? That would.”

It was quiet after that. Even Mapi didn’t know what to say.

Jana reached under the table and slid her hand into yours, threading her fingers between yours without looking.

You didn’t let go for the rest of the night.

You could feel it before you even saw her.

Alexia’s eyes on you. The pressure of her gaze—calculated, cool, and unrelenting. She hadn’t smiled once all night. And every time you so much as shifted in your seat, it was like she was clocking your movements, cataloguing you like a threat in disguise.

The rest of the team had started warming up to you after the “fighter” reveal. Mapi had made at least six jokes about needing you on the defensive line. Vicky had asked how many ribs you’d broken in your life you said "two—mine". Ingrid had tilted her head thoughtfully and gone, “Hmm, I can see it now. The jawline. The silence. The slightly scary aura. You’re her type.”

Even salma—who barely said a word when you walked in—was now animatedly asking about how long you had trained and whether you could flip someone over a table if needed. You said, “Depends on the table.”

Jana, meanwhile, hadn’t stopped beaming. She sat close—hip brushing yours, her hand occasionally resting on your knee under the table. Whenever someone got too loud or made a comment that toed the line, she’d glance up at you, as if checking you were okay. You always were. You were used to scrutiny. What you weren’t used to was someone like her watching your face like it mattered to her what she saw.

But Alexia?

Still cold. Still skeptical. Still looking at you like she couldn’t figure out what the hell her sweet, gentle, starry-eyed teammate was doing with someone like you.

The tension crackled quietly as dessert was cleared. Then, the wine started flowing again, and with it came the pokes—the questions dressed up as jokes, the little digs that weren’t quite playful.

“So…” Alexia spoke up again, swirling her glass slowly. “What happens when you get mad?”

You were in mid-conversation with Mapi, but the whole table turned to you.

You met her gaze evenly. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Who I’m mad at.”

There was a pause. Mapi stifled a smirk. Patri widened her eyes at the table, clearly enjoying the tension. Jana stiffened beside you.

Alexia took another sip. “Right. But say someone pisses you off. What then?”

You blinked, patient. “I don’t lash out. I’ve trained to control myself.”

“That’s good,” she said, deceptively calm. “Because someone with your… background losing control? That could be dangerous.”

You leaned back slightly, voice still even. “I’ve fought people twice my size. I’ve been thrown against cages, taken elbows to the face, trained until my lungs burned. You think I’d lose control in a restaurant because someone made a comment?”

That silenced the table.

Alexia shrugged. “Just saying. People like you are… intense.”

You let the silence settle. Then, voice low and deliberate

“I’ve spent years learning how to be intense without being destructive. That’s the difference between being dangerous and being disciplined. I know exactly how strong I am. And I know what I’m capable of. Which is why I’d never raise my voice, let alone my hand, to someone like Jana.”

Another pause. This one heavier.

You could feel Jana’s fingers sliding over yours under the table. She didn’t speak—but her grip said everything.

“She calms me,” you added. “In ways no one else ever has.”

It wasn’t a speech. It wasn’t some planned defense. Just quiet truth. Your voice wasn’t soft—but it was sure.

And Alexia heard it.

For the first time all evening, something in her shifted. Not trust. Not yet. But a tiny falter in her wall.

“So,” Mapi said quickly, breaking the silence, “who wants to see if she can choke out Patri with a napkin?”

Laughter rippled around the table, easy and warm. Tension diffused.

Patri elbowed Mapi and rolled her eyes. “You’re such a drama queen.”

You leaned toward Jana, voice low: “You okay?”

She smiled up at you, warm and bright. “Yeah. Are you?”

You gave the slightest nod. “Always.”

By the time dessert hit the table, your shirt collar was rumpled from where Jana had tugged you close to whisper jokes. Her laughter had only grown brighter the longer the night went on. Around you, the team had settled into a post-meal chaos—spoons scraping the last of chocolate mousse, wine glasses refilled too generously, someone ,you were 90% sure it was Mapi, yelling about arm wrestling.

But even in all the noise, you felt the weight of one gaze.

Alexia was still watching.

Not with the sharpness she’d had earlier, but something more patient now. Like she was waiting for a moment. And when the team got distracted again—Mapi daring Patri to chug a glass of water upside down—Alexia tapped Jana’s shoulder.

“Can I borrow her for a sec?” she asked, nodding at you.

Jana froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Why?”

“I just want to talk.”

“She’s not really the talking type,” Jana said quickly.

You set your hand over hers on the table. “It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

You nodded. “Go defend Mapi’s honor.”

Jana gave Alexia a narrowed look, but let you go.

Outside, the night had cooled, crisp air kissing your cheeks as you stepped onto the quiet street beside her. You tucked your hands in your coat pockets. Alexia stood a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw working.

The silence stretched.

Then finally, “So. You fight.”

You blinked slowly. “Didn’t realize that was still breaking news.”

“I mean… you fight. Cages. Rings. Actual paid violence.”

“I call it controlled discipline, but sure. That too.”

Alexia exhaled like she’d been holding it for hours. “Jana has always been… soft. In a good way. She’s light. She’s—”

“Sunshine,” you offered. “I know.”

“And you…” she trailed off, looking at you from the corner of her eye. “You walk like you expect a bullet.”

You huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

She leaned back against the brick wall of the restaurant, arms still folded. “You terrify them, you know.”

“I know.”

“But that’s not why I had a problem.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t scared of you,” she clarified. “I was scared of what you represented. People like you—people with hard eyes and locked jaws and bruised knuckles—they don’t stay. They burn. And people like Jana?” She tilted her head toward the restaurant. “They get caught in the fire.”

That one… stung.

You stared at her for a long beat. The light above flickered slightly.

“I’ve spent most of my life in places where I couldn’t afford softness,” you said finally, quietly. “But I’ve never once looked at Jana and thought about breaking anything. She’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to protect.”

Alexia didn’t answer, but something in her face shifted.

“You think I’m intense?” you went on. “I’ve seen that girl care so loudly it knocks the wind out of people. She’s a force. Don’t confuse soft with weak.”

Alexia glanced down. “No one who keeps up with me on the pitch is weak. I know that.”

The silence this time felt less strained. Like a storm starting to clear.

“I didn’t want to like you,” Alexia admitted. “And I’m still not sure I do.”

“That’s fair,” you replied.

“But…” She hesitated, watching you. “I believe you love her. That part I see clear.”

You nodded. “With everything I’ve got.”

Another pause. Longer. Quieter.

“If you ever hurt her,” she said softly, not a threat but a promise, “I won’t need a cage.”

You looked her right in the eye. “If I ever hurt her, I’ll let you swing first.”

That was the moment something in her cracked. Not completely, not all the way—but enough.

Alexia straightened. “Come on. You’ve survived dinner. Mapi’s asking questions about who would win in a fight: you or patri.”

You smirked. “Would she be watching or participating?”

Alexia actually laughed, low and reluctant. “She might be proposing.”

Back inside, the mood had only gotten messier. Patri had her face buried in her hands as Mapi tried to demonstrate some sort of “ninja duck roll” using an empty wine bottle. Jana saw you immediately—her eyes lit up, scanning your face like she was looking for signs of damage.

You sat beside her and pulled her close without a word. She pressed a kiss to your jaw.

“She still hates you?” Jana whispered, teasing.

“No,” you murmured back. “She’s just scared I might steal you away for good.”

“You already did.”

Mapi clinked a glass. “Alright! Verdict time!”

Everyone turned to her.

“Our dear silent mystery fighter has survived the wolves. Barely. But she passed. I say she stays.”

Jana cheered softly, pulling your hand onto her lap.

You leaned close, brushed a kiss to the top of her head, and whispered only for her

“Told you I’d survive.”

She smiled at you like you’d just handed her the sun.

And for the first time that night, Alexia watched you—not with judgment, not with challenge.

With respect.

(This is probably shit 😅 )

[marvelwitchergilmore]

His Reason

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> You and Bucky are seemingly a recipe for disaster. But after a mission goes awry, things begin to change.

Disclaimer: Kinda enemies-to-lovers, fluff, angst, Bucky helps clean your wounds, Bucky on his knees for you. Descriptions/mentions of blood and death. Happy ending. Not Proof Read.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t they know putting us together is a recipe for disaster?”

Bucky shrugged and threw another pack into the ket. “Apparently, they don’t care. They need people to take the mission and the only two people trained well enough and available are…us.”

You stared at him in disbelief. It wasn’t like it was some massive secret you were both keeping. It was just simple. You and Bucky didn’t work well together. You never had done. Probably because you never got along away from work, either. 

You and Sam, Sam and Bucky, Bucky and Steve, Steve and you. You all got along just fine. But you and Bucky? No. Like you said, it was a recipe for disaster. 

“Pack your stuff. We’re leaving in five.”

You didn’t exactly have much time to grumble. The mission needed to be done. A mission that qualified under both of your job titles. 

Maybe you should have taken Sam up on his offer to take a break. 

The jet ride was silent between both of you the entire way there. You prepared and unprepared the medical kits three times over. You packed, unpacked and repacked your overnight bag. You knew what was in it already, even though you knew you’d never used it. Everything was still fresh. 

“Would you quit doing that?”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“If I hear another zip, I’m gonna zip you in one of them.” Bucky grumbled as he flicked a button on the control panel. 

You rolled your eyes and sighed. You ignored his threat and continued what you were doing. You already knew the mission brief like the back of your hand. You had done for years. 

After the third long zip, Bucky placed the jet on autopilot for the rest of the way. He didn’t exactly make his movements subtle as he threw himself from the pilot chair and made his way over to you. 

Taking the bag from you, he zipped it closed and threw it onto the ground. It landed with a thud. 

“Stop.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re being annoying.”

“I’m just being cautious.”

Bucky just tilted his head. “There’s being cautious, then there’s being this.”

Leaning your hands against the table in front of you, you looked up at him. “And what is so wrong with this?”

“Nothing. When a normal person is doing it.” Bucky just leaned down and picked up the bag before turning to put it back in its original place, where you’d found it. 

“I am a normal person.”

Bucky chuckled as he stuffed it back into place. “Oh, sweetheart. You are far from normal.” Turning around to you, the flirty edge to his voice was gone and replaced with his usual demeanour towards you; bluntness. “We both are.”

You watched as he walked away and back to the front of the jet. You cussed at yourself for checking out his ass as he did so. But you followed him anyway, sitting in the second seat, right beside him. 

“Get your seatbelt on. We should be landing soon.”

You grumbled but followed his instructions anyway. Part of you might have nearly killed him once, and maybe it still did – just under different circumstances. But safety first. 

The mission ran as smoothly as it would be trying to have a bull ballet dance through a china shop. But you both got out of there alive. 

Barely.

Bucky watched as you stood in front of the mirror on the jet. It was set up just between the array of weapons. Your tactical vest was long gone, however the holster around your thigh still remained. Whilst Bucky had been forced to take on Kate Bishop's advice at adding a little colour into his uniform – the furthest he went was dark blue. 

You remained in black. Black t-shirt, black tactical trousers, boots. With the addition of red blood seeping from your wound. 

You had to peel your t-shirt from your wound. There was just a little too much blood for your liking. It didn’t help that your adrenaline was starting to slow down, leaving you with a wave of shakes to deal with. They were mostly focused on your legs which wasn’t helping your case in trying to stand and look in the mirror. 

“C’mere.” 

You turned for a split second, realising Bucky was walking to you. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Give it.”

“No.”

“Y/n.”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

Bucky stood a little taller. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

“Y/n, you’re bleeding out. Literally.”

You ignored him. “I’m dealing with it.”

Bucky watched as you hissed and closed your eyes, looking away from the wound you were trying to clean. His voice fell softer and he held his hand out. “Just let me help.”

Bucky tried to ignore the feeling he got in his chest when you finally opened your eyes and looked at him. He could see the colour of your eyes so clearly, as well as the pain you’d probably mask once you’d both touched ground back at the compound. 

Finally, you let that barricade down. Just long enough to accept his help. 

Handing the cloth over to him, he gently moved you until you were leaning against the weapons table top. You needed to stand in order for him to clean it properly. 

Then he dropped onto one knee. 

You hissed, “Take it easy. Please.”

“I’m trying.”

He carefully dabbed at the wound, before reaching behind you for the medical box. “I want you to go to Cho when we get back.”

“I-”

“Don’t you dare say you’ll be fine. You’re going.” Bucky looked away from your gaze and back at your wound. “We both are. Besides,” Bucky’s hand held you firmly on the back of your thigh. “You’ve not stopped shaking.”

“That’s normal.”

“Maybe,” Bucky shrugged. “But you’re still going.”

Any other time, you would have fought him on it more. But you didn’t have the energy to. 

Once he’d covered up your wound, he looked around your body before his blue gaze locked onto your eyes. “Anywhere else?”

“I don’t know.” You answered truthfully. Your body was too sore and too tired to move. The adrenaline was slowly wearing off and sleep was in desperate need to take over. 

Bucky’s fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. He’d seen you get hit multiple times, so it was probably a safe bet you did have other wounds that needed tending to. 

“Can I?”

For the first time in your life, you didn’t fight him on it. You didn’t even speak. Just helped him but gave up halfway through. 

He stood, helping you remove your shirt. He made a mental list; a little of bruises, blood stains but only a few were your own, and one slice right across your collarbone. 

“I’m gonna need to clean that before you get an infection.”

You tried your hardest to ignore how intimate it felt having Bucky lower the strap of your sports bra in order to get a clearer look at your wound. 

His gaze locked onto yours but unlike the usual bluntness, there was a softness there. “This is gonna hurt, but it should only last a few seconds.”

You didn’t break eye contact as you nodded. But you closed your eyes when the stinging began. You leaned into Bucky’s arm, your own fingers wrapping around his arm. “I’m sorry.”

It was the first time you’d heard those words sound genuine coming out of Bucky’s mouth. 

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Once more, he cleaned your wound in silence. But once he was done, he took a look at your t-shirt. You couldn’t put that back on. Even if it was black, the weight of it alone would be too much for your body to carry after the day you’d both had. 

It was blood soaked. 

Bucky walked away for a moment before zipping something open and returning. “Lift your arms.”

You did so, feeling a soft cotton t-shirt float over your body. As you looked down at it on your body, you felt Bucky’s hand push your fallen hair from your face and you looked up at him. 

“Whose is this?”

“Mine,” he told you. “Tired?”

You nodded. “Exhausted.”

“Do you trust me?” 

You shrugged. “I’ve got a loaded pistol strapped to my thigh, if I don’t.”

It was a rare moment that followed. Bucky smiled. Just for a flash, just an instant. A breathy, genuine smile. His fingers were still in your hair. 

“Understood.” Then he took your hand. “Come with me.”

With your hand still in his, you stood beside him as he pulled out one of the benches on the jet and it folded out into a bed. It wasn’t a comfortable and homely bed or anything. But it was somewhere you’d be able to sleep. 

“We won’t be back for a few hours. You should get some sleep.”

You nodded. Bucky just helped you onto the bed before covering you up with one of the Shield assigned blankets. With one final brush of his hand on top of your head, he turned away. 

“Bucky?”

He turned back. 

“Thank you.”

Again, he smiled. Just a little. A ghost of his previous one. “Get some sleep.”

You don’t remember closing your eyes. You just remember waking up warm. Beside you, Bucky was lying on his back, an arm under his head as well as the pillow. His breathing was even and you were holding onto his other arm that had somehow made it around your back and waist. 

Meanwhile, your other hand lay just over his heart. 

You could feel his heartbeat. Steady. Calm. 

Another time, you would have probably hit him in the chest to wake him up. You would have crawled away from the bed and gone to check how far away home was. You would have never thought about waking up beside him, ever again. 

But something was different. 

Seeing his smile. Feeling his heartbeat. 

Something was different. 

So, you didn’t wake him. Instead, you leaned closer into him and smiled as you felt his arm and his hand tighten their grip around you for a moment before relaxing once more. And you fell back to sleep. 

The next time you woke up, you were in your own bed. 

Alone. 

And it hurt. 

As you sat up, you found yourself in different clothes. Less sore, more bandaged. But one thing was still the same. 

You were in Bucky’s t-shirt. 

Slowly moving, you pulled yourself from your bed and looked out of your window. It was still morning. Forgetting your slippers, you made your way out of your room and down the hall into the kitchen. 

Everyone was out. 

All except one. 

“Morning.”

You looked over and saw Bucky. Grey sweats and a henley. 

“Morning,” you replied. “How did I-”

“You were fast asleep by the time we landed so I took you straight to Cho. Your wound had opened up and I didn’t want you bleeding out.” Bucky explained. “Your levels were too high so she sedated you. Once everything was okay, Cho thought it might be better for you to wake up in your own bed rather than a hospital one.”

“So you…”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. I carried you to bed.”

You looked around, a little confused. If another version of you walked through the door, they’d be asking where your holster went and if Bucky had taken proper care of it. But instead you simply said, “Thank you.”

“We only landed back yesterday morning so you’ve not missed much. Want something to eat?”

“Uh, I don’t-”

Bucky stood. “I’ll make you something to eat. Sit down. Want some coffee?”

“Please.”

Bucky had a coffee cup in front of you a few seconds later. Then he started whipping up breakfast. 

“Are you okay?”

Bucky looked over his shoulder at you. “I didn’t get hit if that’s what you’re asking.”

You nodded. 

“Cho gave me the all clear.”

You nodded, sipping your coffee. “Good.”

For the next three days, you couldn’t shake the disappointment you felt each time you woke up alone. Rather than beside Bucky. 

You hated it. 

You used to hate him. 

Strongly dislike. 

You and Bucky never got along. You were more likely to fight him than you were to want to…wake up beside him. Then, one day, you stopped fighting him. And he stopped fighting you. 

It was the weirdest thing. 

And you enjoyed it. 

Which you hated. 

“What’s going on with you and Bucky?” You heard Kate ask you as you emptied your clip. 

Locking the safety on your gun before you threw it down, you tore the headphones from your ears and sighed. 

“I don’t know.”

“You like each other now?”

“Apparently.”

“When did that happen?”

The target came flying at you. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You tore the paper from the poster and stuck a new one up. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

The target went flying back and you loaded another clip before emptying it onto the paper. Kate stood beside you as the paper came flying back. 

“We’re gonna need pizza.”

Thirty minutes later, you were sitting in her apartment with two pizzas on the coffee table. 

“And he was just there?”

You nodded. “He was just lay there, asleep, looking far too fucking handsome for me to hate his guts. And when he touched me…”

Kate tried her best to hide her smile. “You liked it?”

You just flopped back into the sofa cushions. “I didn’t want him to let me go.”

Kate stopped trying to hide her smile. “This is amazing.”

“It’s terrible.”

“It’s a recipe for love!”

You shook your head. “It’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

Kate sat back. “Okay. If this is just because you two nearly killed each other in your previous lives, then that is complete bull. That is in the past. And, it’s not like this is the first time you’ve thought he’s handsome.”

You just glared at Kate. The memory of coming across some old Shield photographs and spotting a very handsome 40s soldier flashed across your mind, Kate’s voice echoing that the guy you said you’d marry if you were back in the 40s was actually Bucky. 

“And it’s not like you’ve not checked him out before.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kate just tilted her head. “Well, you’re not exactly subtle.”

“Kate.”

“Relax. The others don’t know. But I know you. So I know. I think you should talk to him.”

You sat up. “Absolutely not.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Didn’t you just hear me? Me and Bucky…we’re a recipe for a disaster. It can only end in tragedy. If I talk to him about this…” 

You didn’t even want to think about what would come after that. Eternal regret, shame, fear, humiliation. 

Kate took your hand. “Hey. You don’t have to do anything now. But if you do have feelings for him, you’re gonna have to deal with them eventually.”

You sighed. “I know. I know.”

A year later, you still hadn’t dealt with them. At first you thought maybe it was some kind of ‘soldier, nurse’ thing. Like how soldiers fell in love with their nurses because they’d helped them get back to normal health. 

But then the statutes of limitations ran out. And it only got worse. He was in your head all the damn time. Everytime you fell asleep, his memory was there. His voice was the first thing you heard in the morning. And when movie nights took place and Kate somehow worked it so the only available seat for you was beside Bucky, you were asleep almost instantly. 

Once his arm was behind you on the sofa and he moved you to lean against him, his excuse being to get you to stop wriggling, your entire body relaxed. 

“Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

You could hear the smile on his face, “Good.”

Halfway through the movie, his arm would drop from the back of the sofa to being around you, his fingers dancing up and down your arm absentmindedly. 

When you were asleep, and the movie had ended, Bucky wordlessly pulled the blanket he’d covered you with, away. Then he picked you up and carried you to bed. 

His presence being the last thing you felt before sinking into your bed wasn’t helping your feelings any. 

But it didn’t matter. 

Because almost eighteen months on from that day when you’d woken up laying beside him, he got hurt. 

A mission had gone sideways. Too far sideways. Like, drop off the edge of the world sideways. And Bucky was in trouble. You’d put a call into Shuri. They had everything waiting to help him once the jet landed. 

You stayed by his bedside for three days whilst he healed. 

“Has she slept at all?” Steve asked Shuri as they stood outside of the medical room. 

“A little, but not enough to be considered okay.” Shuri said. “She loves him, doesn’t she?”

Steve took a moment before nodding. “Secret is, he loves her, too. But their history…”

“I know the White Wolf’s history. I know little of her though.”

Steve took in a breath and walked away with Shuri as he explained. “They’ve met before. Years before I found him. The Winter Soldier programme had been a part of her training. A ghost she could barely remember. But then, after she joined Shield-”

“Agent Barton?”

Steve chuckled. “He kinda has a reputation for picking up agents from the other side. But, yeah. After she joined Shield, they met again. Hand to hand combat. They both walked away bleeding. Once Bucky was himself again, with their history and personalities they never really clicked. Until about a year and a half ago when I watched Bucky be in the same position as Y/n today.”

“He didn’t leave her side?”

Steve shook his head. “Not until he was ordered to by Doctor Cho. But even then, he watched out for her overnight. Has barely left her side since.”

Shuri nodded. “I’ll try and get her to sleep.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you.”

A few hours later, Shuri walked inside. You had the times Bucky was due for a check up memorised. 

“Is everything okay?”

“With Bucky, yes. He’s gonna be just fine. I’m here about you. Come with me.”

You looked back at Bucky. You were still holding his hand. 

“He’ll be okay. He’s sleeping. Come on.”

Reluctantly, you followed Shuri. She took you to a bathroom where you could get a warm shower before she showed you the clothes Steve had brought with him. Your clothes, which also happened to include the t-shirt Bucky had placed on you. Freshly washed and still warm. 

“Once you’re dressed, sleep. He would want to make sure you’re okay, too.”

You nodded, understanding what she was saying. 

After your shower, it wasn’t long before you fell asleep. But you weren’t asleep for very long. As the moon had settled itself high with the stars, you walked yourself back to Bucky’s medical room. 

Where you found the Queen sat by his side. 

You bowed. “Your Majesty.”

“It is alright. Come in. Close the door.”

You did so before slowly walking to the other side of his bed and sitting down. 

“He’s okay,” the Queen smiled. “That t-shirt?”

You looked down and smiled, clutching the hem. “Yeah, it’s..it’s his.”

“You care for him.”

You shrugged. “He’s my friend.”

“You love him.”

You faltered. “I-”

The Queen chuckled. “It’ll be our secret. Though, if you wish for it to remain that way, I suggest you get better at hiding your feelings.”

You chuckled a little. “Yeah.”

“But you don’t want to?”

You grimaced. “I…it’s not like I don’t…I don’t know anymore. All I know is one day I went from him being the last person I wanted to be around, to suddenly being…the only one.”

The Queen just smiled at you, but you didn’t fully notice because your gaze was focused on Bucky. Fast asleep, mending and looking far too handsome whilst doing it. 

“If you want my advice, tell him. Life is far too short to waste time. Look at him. Sergeant Barnes might be a soldier out of time, but he's not immortal. And neither are you. My advice is just do it.”

Kate would be fainting with excitement knowing the Queen of Wakanda was giving you the same advice she had given you. 

Taking one final look at Bucky, the Queen excused herself. But not before stopping by the door to say, “History is in the past. You’d both make a lovely couple. Welcome back, White Wolf.”

You nearly gave yourself whiplash. Bucky was awake. He gave a tired smile to the Queen before looking at you. 

“Hey, sweetheart,”

You stood up and sat beside him on the bed, hugging him. A soft chuckle came from his chest. “Take it easy. I might start thinking you missed me.”

You leaned back. “You almost died, Bucky.”

“But you saved me.”

“Shuri saved me.”

Bucky smiled. “And who called her? You saved me, sweetheart.”

“I should go and find-”

Bucky held onto your hand. A motion you hadn’t been used to since, for the last three days, you’d been holding his hand as he lay still. “Don’t. Just…stay here. Someone will come soon. I just…” Bucky finally breathed. “I just want to be with you for a while.”

“You really scared me.”

Bucky nodded. “I know.”

“Don’t ever do that again.”

Bucky chuckled. “You have my word.”

A few moments of silence settled over you both as you looked at each other. 

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Bucky slowly lifted his hand until he was cupping your cheek. “Lucky for me, I had someone to get back to.”

A smile broke out on your face after a moment. Bucky was alive. Better yet, he’d come back for you. 

“Considering I almost lost my life, please tell me I don’t have to wait any longer to kiss you. I know we didn’t get the most normal start but-”

You cut him off with a searing kiss. You could feel his hand at the back of your head, holding you closer. 

“Aren’t you the one always saying we’re far from normal?” You asked, breathless as the kiss broke apart for a moment. 

“Being normal is overrated.”

Bucky kissed you again like you were his lifeline. His reason for breathing. And, in a way, you were. He’d had feelings for you for a long time. And, although the list of important reasons had been shortening over the last couple of years, there was one reason that remained. 

You. 

You were his reason to come back. 

You always would be. 

[russetfoxfur]

okay so i went a bit insane about the examination of agency in the nightmare's routes, and then this evolved into a deeper examination of the rest of nightmare's whole deal. i am not an analyst so please take everything i say with a grain of salt, but. you know. i find her whole character to be very interesting. rambles under the cut.

okay, so every route the princess begins by being chained to a wall. this is the first thing she knows. she appears to be the ideal of a damsel in distress - she can't move, can't fight on her own at first, can be easily stabbed if your perception of her stays as a damsel in distress. she has no agency in this. she is forced to wait in the cabin until you, an unknown monster-looking thing comes along explicitly to kill her. and if you're quick and doubtless, she ends her life just as it began - born in a chain in a cabin, died in a chain in a cabin. and that's how you get the spectre.

now, the nightmare you can get on either harsh or soft princess. she's unique in this - as far as i remember, the only other princess like this is the stranger, where you don't meet her at all. (please correct me if i'm wrong though, i'm new to this fandom). and - as pointed out in another analysis, though i can't find it now - she's like this because she speaks to the foundational fear that all princesses have, which is going unperceived. she adapts based on what you are, and while she'll treat you differently if you try to kill her or save her at first, she will always revert to the nightmare when you meet her and then refuse to engage with her at all.

by refusing to perceive her you take away her agency. when you fight her she at least has the chance to fight back. if you manage to stab her in the heart she can at least provoke you into wondering if she's actually dead. but she has so little agency here, fighting for scraps to keep herself alive in the face of a construct that desperately wants her dead, and you leaving her alone says that you don't even see her as someone who's a threat. while slaying her means seeing her as an apocalypse in the making, and freeing her means seeing her as a pitiful thing locked up in a harsh cabin, leaving her alone means seeing her as absolutely nothing at all.

so she fights back. she slips her chains to try and escape from the cabin on her own terms. i genuinely don't think the shutting-down-the-organs thing is a lie on her part - she doesn't really lie, not unless you think she can, and she doesn't want to kill you at all, as evidenced in her chapter II. she knew you were the key to her escape, and then (in her eyes) you have the spite and sheer audacity to kill yourself just when her freedom is in view, just before she can leave for good. you kill yourself just to make sure she can't have the option of leaving at all.

so, to recap: she's locked up, you abandon her, she tries to escape, you die, she dies.

when we come back to her, the cabin bends to her will. her chains are nowhere in sight - whether they existed in the first place is a mystery. what i find interesting is the sort of prelude to her appearance - when you descend into the basement, you're given a choice between staying, running for the stairs, turning left, or turning right.

no matter which way you go, she always finds you.

she gives you the false choice this time. while before you'd spoken to her, tempted her with freedom and autonomy and agency, you'd snatched it away and left her with the worst fate she can imagine. now she's giving it to you - she tempts you with freedom and agency, and then she snatches it away by showing up no matter where you turn. no one ever talks about it but it's just. she'd said so many things to try and coerce/persuade you into helping her leave, and no matter what she'd said you'd left her anyway. you try and go any way to avoid meeting her and facing the princess again, but no matter which way you go she'll always find you.

anyway.

you pass out a few times as paranoid begins his chant, she reacts with mild curiosity and annoyance, and then you're free to question her. someone else pointed out that her mask never changes - it's frozen in this teasing smile, almost like she's smiling over the pain. (which she definitely is, considering what happens in the leadup to MoC.) she repeatedly reinstates her desire to leave and now gleefully talks about the world ending. what has it ever done for her, anyway? she also teases lq with death, just like he teased her with freedom. an eye for an eye.

a few highlights of her dialogue: when told that she's a lunatic, she responds, "I am what I am. And right now, what I am is in control." she also then teases him with death again. how the tables have turned. if you've got the knife, you can tell her you might just kill her instead, to which she warns the player and then says, "This place is mine. And I'm not giving you the stairs unless I'm leaving with you." she then demonstrates you by trapping you in the cabin if you decide to slay her right then and there. everything else is pretty standard - talking about her plans when she's free, talking about what happened after she died. these are interesting in their own right, but not for this analysis.

then, once you've exhausted all dialogue options, you have a few more options, three of which lead to chapter IIIs which have interesting takes on agency as well. you can remain with her, run, leave with her, or (if you have the knife) stab her.

both running and remaining - seemingly opposing actions - lead to the same outcome: the moment of clarity. this happens when you've finally exhausted all other possible outcomes, and all that's left for you to do is to let. her. out. you have no other choice - they're all grayed out. whether it's a broken hero or your own amnesia-blocked trauma doing this is anyone's guess, but the fact remains.

in the leadup to the moment of clarity, she takes off her mask, the thing that's kept her seeming morbidly cheerful and playful throughout the rest of the route despite her multiple open threats and gleeful hatred of the world. the narrator describes, in detail, a horrific existence which she is baring to you in an attempt to get you to help her to leave. she takes off her mask, stops playing nice with you, and tries to get you to see her side of the story, tries to get you to at least pity her and leave.

it's so bad the narrator stops narrating and refuses to go on.

think about this. this is the guy who narrates the entirety of the fury sequence, cool and calm. he describes the nightmarish cabin matter-of-factly a few minutes before, which hero points out. he isn't bothered by you getting killed except that it means his plans are ruined and the world is doomed, and he tells you about various gruesome deaths such as being crushed by vines or watching the prisoner chop her own head off. the only other times i can think of that he despairs like this is when you fail your mission (by freeing or dying to the princess) or when he himself is in danger (getting burned up by apotheosis, getting controlled by the tower). but in nightmare, the vision is so horrible that he cannot stand going on. (paranoid also stops chanting at this time, but he does that before when his concentration is broken. narry is notably VERY DEAD SET on his goal of slaying the princess. he's not like this!)

what this vision is exactly, i cannot tell, but for the sake of this analysis i'm going to interpret it as what she is, behind the mask, behind the facade of a vessel. shifty offloads the nature of her existence, the purest distillation of change - a lifetime, the circle of life, bloom and decay and burgeoning rot over and over and over again, success and fame turning into scandals and dishonor and poverty, humans living and changing into monsters or saints, every choice you make irreversibly altering the tapestry of time you are a part of. she represents the future and its unpredictable nature, and people trying to adapt to changing societal pressures and failing to evolve fast enough, and each unlucky twist of fate that leads to ruin and despair. she is survival of the fittest, and she is testing you.

this is what the nightmare is, under the mask. a monster, a murderer, the essence of death and destruction. this is what you are denying agency.

in this light, refusing shifty's offer of godhood seems almost reasonable. maybe she's trapped here for a reason. death is... pretty bad, isn't it? if our cool-headed narrator doesn't want her out, maybe there's a reason for that. maybe he's loved and lost - maybe he's seeing reflections of himself, in the princess' experiences, and the reason why he's so set on you slaying her is to prevent this nightmare from happening to anyone else.

you die, of course. you have the audacity to die. and when you wake again - we don't know whether she's hopeful you've learned the error of your ways, or whether she's still as forceful as in chapter II, but one thing's for certain - she doesn't win. you still act as the prison guard. you still keep her away from her only goal, and you become determined to keep it that way.

so you guard the door. you slay her. you romance her and question her and murder her and you end up with different voices, each time, different fragments of change that help you evolve to fight her but you always end up with the same princess with the same goal and nothing's getting better and you keep on denying her freedom because she's clearly awful and you're clearly the guard to an irredeemable prisoner.

from her perspective, mind you, she's been locked in a room for no reason, teased with escape, accidentally killed you while trying to leave, entertained your faints and questions, bared her soul to you in order to get you to understand why leaving her alone is such a bad idea, and then you died and promptly doubled down on your decision.

it's hell for her! she doesn't know why you're doing this! she's forced to react to your actions, because you're the one who can take the knife and you're the one who can leave! she lashes out! how dare you! how dare you keep her trapped here! why can't she leave! why can't she be the one in control of her fate! why do you hate her so much, that you are willing to die over and over just to keep her trapped?

so she lashes out at you. she takes vengeance on her captor, and she hunts you again and again, eroding away your defiance loop by painstaking loop. we don't know exactly what she did. we probably don't want to. but it's bad enough to break the voices, shatter many of them beyond recognition, and outright deny us our autonomy in a way that's only otherwise seen in tower.

and i'm not saying she's a saint! i know this whole analysis i've been on her side but that's because most people aren't! she's undeniably cruel to lq, but the thing most people forget is he was cruel first! she is a creature of perception and he denies her even that basic privilege! and she reacts violently! she lashes out and tries to threaten him into staying! has no qualms with sacrificing the world if she can get out! the nightmare cranks the abandonment anxiety of all the princesses up and adds a vicious vengeance to her as well!

but also. this route shows how hero isn't quite so perfect as he appears to be. you get this route by taking hero's third option, which satisfies no one. (it's also worth noting that HEA is also hero's call.) you abandon her, she who literally never has met anyone beside yourself, and that breaks her. so she tries to cling onto you. she possesses you and shatters you and threatens you and wants you there because she knows nothing else and she's already fractured from shifty's splintering, she can't fracture further, so she'll squeeze and claw for any bit of companionship she can get. she'll hunt you down for sport if it means she can spend a few minutes with you perceiving her. she's lonely is what she is. and she's reacting in the worst way possible.

where were we? oh, right. moment of clarity.

eventually, though, after untold numbers of loops where you keep doggedly trying to keep her locked away, she breaks through. she exhausts your options, traumatizes you, forces you to let her out. she will not be defeated. she will have her way. she makes sure of it.

what i also find interesting is that you're not scared of her anymore. paranoia isn't chanting away in the background. there's no more fear - just resignation. no one's happy with your third option, just as the narrator said back when you made it in the first cabin - everyone just wants it to end, and the only voice of dissent is the narrator, who doesn't even remember what's happened and doesn't know how awful it is to keep on trudging through the same, unchanging story over and over and over again. it's not new, or exciting, or changing anymore. it's just painful. you should really just let her out.

ah, but you might be wise enough not to try and pick that third option, and instead choose the more traditional two options - leaving or slaying.

leaving with the nightmare, like most chapter II endings, is pretty straightforward - you comply with her wishes and let. her. out. if you have the knife, there's a fun moment where paranoid says 'fuck you' to the narrator, but otherwise you give her her agency again. you allow her out. you've learned the error of your ways - now you'll let her free.

and, granted, she does wish death onto the world, but - as detailed above - she does kinda deserve it. i'd let her. she should kill people. i want to watch it happen :3

but if you choose to slay her, she reacts not with indignance but with gleeful wickedness. she can't believe you - a paranoid, helpless thing that she'd decided was barely a person at all, just a key that kept getting stuck in the lock, just a helpless little birdie who couldn't even stay alive in the face of her beauty and power - actually killed her! she's too surprised to be angry, i think. and then that surprise turns into realization - she's already figured out that you were always going to keep coming back until you let. her. out, and she can feel herself changing as a result of your changing perception.

and thus we meet the wraith.

while she has the same dialogue no matter where you kill her, you get different voices depending on where you do it - oppy on the stairs/in the cabin, cold if you do it in the basement. you're also forced to kill yourself either way - she tosses you into the void if you betray her, and you're stuck in the basement if you kill her in the basement since, as mentioned before, she won't give you the stairs. you die either from biology or suicide, and then you go into the wraith.

the wraith is a vengeful creature, and for good reason. she tried being nice to you! she tried talking to you, then tried threatening you, then tried forcing you. but you keep refusing! you keep dying, stubbornly, before you can reach her... you keep killing her before she can reach the outside... you keep teasing her with freedom! you keep her away from freedom, so tantalizingly close yet far.

and she's done being nice. she's seen where that's gotten her - a paranoid corpse and a knife through her heart. it's not her fault you keep dying! you just can't help being so afraid of a shackled princess that you're willing to kill yourself to be rid of her! so she's going to take it by force. she'll be evil. that's the only way things get done around here.

so she transforms into the wraith, a half-dead thing with a skeletal grin and grasping claws. you're introduced to her when she twists your ankle and drags you down to her level. she also explains that she was so, so close to freedom last time, but then you locked her away, killed her, and took her body away from her. so she's going to take your body away and march out that door, and you're going to be completely helpless during all of this, just like she was.

interestingly, she also limits your freedom, just like she did last time - if you ask her questions twice, she'll cut you off and take over your body then and there. she's done entertaining your frivolous questions. she wants to leave. let. her. out. she also goes ahead and possesses you without a second thought if you try to struggle or give up

a few interesting highlights from these explore options: you can claim that you were a victim in all of this, and she says, "Just because someone hurt you doesn't mean you get a free pass to hurt anyone else." some delicious hypocrisy there, wraith, as the voices point out. but perhaps she doesn't even see you as someone who can hurt, thus justifying her possession and torture of you. someone who can hurt would have sympathy for the poor locked up princess in the dark basement, and they certainly wouldn't lock her away and stab her to death. only heartless people do that, and heartless people can't be hurt. if you tell her that possessing you is evil, she says, "After all you've done, why would I ever care what you think of me?" she's past the point of evil and not-evil. to her, you're evil - you hurt her first, after all. whether a villain sees a hero as evil is irrelevant; to her, you're means to an end, an end that is always dancing just out of reach. possessing you is a necessary step to her goal.

she then possesses you.

now that she's in your head, she realizes that you also have voices in your head. oppy is immediately on wraith's side, because of course he is, and cold's a bit ambivalent about the whole ordeal (as he often is), though he's leaning toward your side. narry and hero are mortified, as they are wont.

if you struggle as she possesses you, paranoid's able to save up a bit of will and uses it to help you defy her one last time. first you lock her away in the basement, then you stab her, then you are literally willing to kill yourself and fall forever to be rid of her. she's sadistic as she tries to force you to move, but if you want to - because you're the one with agency here, still, even as she forces you to shamble toward the door on a broken ankle, even as she usurps your body and forces you to watch - you can throw yourself out the window.

as you fall, she asks you why you hate her. why you've always hated her. why you didn't trust her when you locked her away, why you decided to stab a knife through someone who didn't even want to kill you, why you defied her even with a shattered ankle and her voice in your head. why you decided your autonomy was more worthy than hers, way back at the start, back when she didn't even want to kill you. why you hated her into the nightmare, and then the wraith. why you decided she was better off alone and abandoned.

and honestly? you might have a valid reason at this point. she did break your ankle, after all. she did shut down your organs and act gleeful about the end of the world. she's a monster. she's sadistic and cruel and horrible and she possessed you, for goodness' sake! you've been trying to defend yourself against a threat! you're literally dying all the time near nightmare, and wraith greets you by breaking your ankle! like, i understand why people hate her! i'm not saying she's a good person! no one is, in this series! that's part of the appeal!!!

but she never even tried to kill you. (to those who are going to say well what about the organs-shutting-down-thing, think about it rationally: she needs you to get out. you fainting and dying isn't helping her. it's an active detriment. if she could control it, she probably wouldn't do it, because you being dead just shunts you back into the same hellvoid again.) she never locked you away forever. that was you. you keep taunting her with freedom and then shutting her away. you killed her and trapped her and, to her, you forced her into this. you forced her to hurt you and possess you and make you fear her. this isn't her fault. this is yours. for locking her away, for killing her, for denying her her one wish. she tried, in that first chapter. and you decided she wasn't worth the time of day.

personally, i would've made this choice also branch off into MoC. this game doesn't do fourth chapters - and i understand why - but i feel like it would've been fulfilling. she finally gets her freedom after you kill her and kill yourself and lock her away and keep her from getting out. you wouldn't even have to change much - you've already proven you're not going to let her out again. who's to say that the wraith wasn't one of MoC's iterations, and that the voices leading the charge then were also able to store some will and kill themselves before she could escape?

and maybe they were right. we don't know what happened between the nightmare and MoC, and we never will. maybe she was horrifically cruel, an unfeeling maniac. maybe she was pleading to be let out, and you weren't having that. maybe she was doing both. what we know is she never left the cabin.

finally, i want to draw attention to what, exactly, shifty says about each vessel. she gives us our best glimpse into each vessel's psyche, as someone who is part of them. her little speech often endears me to the princess i delivered, even if i wasn't very fond of her.

for the nightmare, she states, "This one is filled with sadness. A doll abandoned to the company of her darkest impulses. She desires only companionship, but the only thing she knows is how to hurt. She will make for a tender heart."

this reinforces what i've been saying throughout the whole analysis - most of the nightmare's nightmarish qualities come from her desperate need to be perceived by someone else. to be known. you doom her to a life of eternal loneliness, so she gives into her darkest urges and hurts you, over and over again, to try and win you over. she doesn't know how to do otherwise.

for the moment of clarity she states, "This one is a waiting maw. An inevitable destination where all roads end. She will make for a wise heart."

she chased you over and over until you broke, waiting for you to shatter and let her out. no matter what you tried to do, no matter which choices you made or roads you took, she awaited you, and you awaited her. she was made wise through your attempts to defy her, and eventually she won the long game. it was inevitable, really. you did your best. there's just a pecking order, and you'll always be at the bottom.

and about the wraith she states: "This one is loneliness turned to seething. She could not find her strength in others, so she found it in herself. She will make for a driven heart."

when you refused to save her, when you defied her over and over, she realized she couldn't rely on you to save her. you took everything she had away from her. so she took everything you had - a pristine blade, a free body - away from you instead. she used to be lonely, scared - but now she is powerful, hateful, laughing even as you throw her out a window in a spiteful act of defiance. you monster.

but eventually, inevitably, finally, she rejoins the shifting mound as one of her many perspectives. she finds peace, finally, in the eternal choir of the vessels.

do not mourn her. she is not alone anymore.

...

this analysis is not in defense of her actions - she does do some pretty fucked up things in this! pro tip: do not break people's ankles and then possess them, and also do not torture someone and break their will. just a suggestion.

but the reason i'm making this analysis is that so many people will say that nightmare/MoC (and tower, though this analysis isn't about her (but i love her very much and she was so valid for mind controlling the narrator)) is a horrible irredeemable bitch, and then they'll turn around and praise smitten/oppy/cold.

and that feels... more than a little hypocritical to me. oppy is literally a backstabbing bastard who allies with the person who has the most power - he literally tries to stab you in patd! he is born out of the decision to betray the princess when she's finally thought she could trust you, similarly to the nightmare, except this time you're killing her instead of locking her away. in HEA, he decides that free food is worth more than the princess' happiness, and in thorn he wants to stab the princess because of her newfound vulnerability.

and yet i've seen so many analyses of his behavior! so many people excusing him as a sopping wet cat who just doesn't want to die. and it's like, well, okay, i'm not going to stop you from liking oppy. i'm not a cop. i can get why you might like a morally gray kinda sneaky character. but it just feels a little misogynistic when you hate the nightmare, who also resorts to desperate measures in order to not die, don'tcha think?

or cold! i'm gonna be honest i'm a bit more favorable of cold, but he still advocates for killing the princess when he thinks it'll be interesting. he is literally born when you don't even try to hear the princess out in the first place, coldly stabbing her without a second thought. he values novelty over pain. and yet people will praise him and then turn around and criticize the tower for not caring about you at all!

ugh. i just... hate the shifty neg, you know? so many ppl hate her for being 'manipulative' and 'self-centered' while completely ignoring your own hand in shaping her! she is a creature of perception, after all - the damsel and the tower are wildly different, and they both change based on how you act. each princess is a reflection of your own thoughts toward her. and people hate on the nightmare for *checks script* trying to leave the basement she was locked into, and then reacting violently when the only person she's ever known decides to keep her trapped, possibly for forever. like, you all see why she'd do that, right.

...also, like. god forbid women do anything. even if she did do all that organ-shutting-down stuff of her own volition, good for her. she should do it more. she should kill everyone who disagrees with her. she was locked in a basement and abandoned by the first person she met i think she deserves to kill and slaughter.

andddd end of post! again i am NOT, like, a practiced analyst. there are almost certainly things i got wrong during this, and feel free to bring those up in the comments! i will admit this got a bit out of hand and turned halfway into a gushing-about-nightmare post.

also i just want to reiterate that this analysis explores her motives and explains why she's Like That, and again i am not trying to say she's a precious cinnamon roll. just that she's got some reasons for doing what she does.

ALSO ALSO PLEASE DO NOT MAKE THIS POST ABOUT THE VOICES THIS POST IS ABOUT THE NIGHTMARE AND HER ITERATIONS!!! MAKE YOUR OWN POST!!!

alright! that's it! russet out!

[shinjiroaragaki]

I am so unwell about them

[heyitslapis]

Even when I thought we had boundary of just friends, she confuses me.

I tell myself to ignore it. That it's just a game for her and that she really is just comfortable with me as a friend.

But we all went out Sunday night (you, me & Sam). You asked us again if Sam & I were still "not a thing." We both told you the truth (for like the 10th time): we're not a thing. There's no sort of situationship or anything like that. We're just friends.

**((also I fucked up one of my tags I meant to say that Alice told buddy boy that I threatened to kill *him* again, not that I threatened to kill her. He sounded really serious when he said "i promise v, im leaps and bounds better than anyone shes had before. I would never hurt her." I said "Oh, im sure. Its because thats who you are Ty. Thats what you and I do. We protect people." I'll be so honest yall i was crossfaded as fuck because i was running iff 3 hours sleep & literally no food almost the whole day leading up to our outing. NOT doing that again jfc))**

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Seeing ghosts in Gotham

He’s walking alone. Despite how dark it is, he’s not particularly nervous, not like the couple of people hovering in an alley.

His shift at Batburger went a little long, not that he’s complaining, he needed the money.

Everything is fine. Splendid. Fantastic. A little quiet, enough to pretend it’s a nice stroll home like it was back in Amity. Of course that all kind of goes up in flames when a dark figure drops into a crouch right in front of him. About two arm lengths away is a guy who straightens to a little taller than Danny himself. From the flickering street light across the street he can spot red, crisscross yellow, and a dark cape.

Red Robin.

Danny shakes his head and turns around.

“Nope.”

A smaller body is already standing behind him, blocking his path. The little guy with a serious face folds his arms across his chest as if challenging Danny to try to get by him.

He’s had enough tussles with Danielle to know better than to test the kid.

Danny rubs at his eyes with a hand, purposefully keeping the other limp at his side. He turns back around.

“Okay. Fine. What? What do you want?”

“You sent in a folder of information to solve the Boothe case,” Red Robin states confidently like there wasn’t any doubt it was Danny who sent it in.

He frowns. It was sent in anonymously. As in they shouldn’t be able to know it was him. Then again they are detectives in their own right even if they dress weird.

“See? This is why no one helps out the police if they’re gonna get grilled for it later on,” he complains sourly.

“That case is connected to another string of crimes we’ve been investigating. I need to know where you got your information.”

Danny glares at him for a second, actually thinking about telling him, then he remembers how quickly these guys throw people into Arkham.

“Do you not get what anonymous means?”

“What is your source?” He asks, completely ignoring Danny’s concerns.

“What are gonna do? Dangle me over the side of a building to get me to talk like you do with the criminals you guys pick up? Go ahead. See where that gets you,” he shrugs indifferently.

“You’re a runaway.”

Danny’s eyes widen in surprise before narrowing into a warning as he turns to look at the pipsqueak that spoke.

“From your poorly made fake ID and the fact you don’t look close to eighteen, you must be a runaway minor. We could bring you in to the proper authorities if you prove to be… uncooperative.”

Danny sneers in annoyance.

“Seriously?” He turns back to Red Robin. Clearly the older of the two and the one leading this investigation. “This is what I get for trying to help? Blackmail?”

“Robin can be a bit… abrasive. I, on the other hand, can appreciate a different approach.”

Suddenly there’s a couple pieces of paper money in between his fingers. Danny couldn’t see how much it was from this far away, but it didn’t really change how he felt about the whole situation.

“Now bribery? Wow, you guys really got the whole good cop, bad cop thing down, don’t cha?”

“Then what do you want?”

“For you to stop wasting your time,” Danny answers with a snap.

Red Robin pauses.

“Our time,” he repeats calmly.

“Yea. Your time. This is a dead end and you should move on.”

“And why are you a dead end?” Presses Robin.

“Because,” Danny emphasizes with a look over his shoulder, “the guy you’re really looking for, my source as you put it, is dead, okay? So you can’t go ask him questions. I sent in everything that was relevant. Find another lead.”

Red Robin’s expression remains blank as he mentally calculates his next move. Danny hopes he takes his advice and let him go home.

“His name?”

Danny folds his arms over his chest, a pathetic attempt to protect himself. He chews on his lip a minute. To tell him or not to tell him. It’s not really ratting the guy out since he’s, you know, dead. Although there is a large chance Danny’s missing something and it’s all going to lead back to him somehow.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“I never said you did,” the vigilante replies calmly, almost nonchalant.

Danny shifts his weight with nerves. He really wasn’t getting out of this without giving them something, huh?

“Greg,” he grinds out like it’s painful.

Silence for a few moments, then-

“As in Gregory Boothe?”

The victim of this whole conversation? Yes.

Danny’s silence is answer enough and the diverted gaze just solidified their suspicions.

“Gregory Boothe’s body turned up a month ago. Presumably he’d been dead for several weeks before that.”

Red lets that damning information hang in the air like Danny didn’t already know.

“So when did he talk to you? Last week?”

Danny jerks at the off handed joke, actually taking a step back and hitching his shoulders up to his ears. He grimaces at his knee jerk response, but can’t take it back. A glance toward the vigilante shows a calculating stunned expression from what he can see ignoring the mask. He looks away again finding a discarded soda can very interesting.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Demands Robin behind him.

Danny tried to resist the urge to curl even more into himself, but knows he failed without even having to look.

“You’re a medium,” Red Robin states. It’s not even a question.

Danny flinches and shoots the guy a scared glare.

“I am not one of those scam artists,” he hisses firmly.

“No,” Red agrees, “you’re not. You didn’t ask for money or attention.”

Danny stares like it’s his first time seeing him. The lack of aggression or accusations was new and a little disarming. He was genuinely confused as to why the guy wasn’t immediately going to denial or throwing him in Arkham.

“Hell of a city to hide in when you can see ghosts,” Red Robin says in a light tone like he was teasing him. The small tug to his lips just proves it.

Danny’s shoulders practically sag at the playful demeanor. A hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Yea, well… no one was gonna look for me here.”

Which was only half the reason he chose Gotham, but it was still truthful.

“So… Greg?”

“Isn’t here right now.” Danny pauses and snorts at himself. “Please leave a message.”

The vigilante does have a sense of humor because he smirks in response to the joke.

“Is there another way to… make contact? Summoning maybe?”

Danny raises an eyebrow incredulously.

“Summoning is rude,” he says like it’s common sense.

Instead he turns to the nearest reliable ghost in the vicinity.

“Hey, Susan, can you go-“

The vigilantes can’t hear how she interrupts him because she was standing there the whole time and knows exactly what he was going to ask.

“Okay, thanks. Meet at mine.”

The ghost woman nods and flies off to go hunt down dear old Greg and Danny turns to Red Robin. He makes a casual move with his head to say ‘follow me’ and continues walking down the sidewalk past the guy and further into the old, decrepit buildings he’s been squatting in.

They already know he’s a runaway, being homeless shouldn’t come as a shock to them. Even with his two jobs, he can’t afford to rent an apartment. No wonder so many people are in poverty or in the slums.

He ducks into his rundown building, ignoring the rats scurrying away, and hops up the rickety stairs, avoiding the ones that were unstable. It was a nightmare figuring out which steps were faulty. Lots of injuries.

At the top he turns to see Red easily copying his movements up the stairs while Robin balances along the railing like a tight rope. When they reach the top at the same time Danny just stares at them for a moment before shaking his head in exasperation. Darn vigilantes. Why did Danny have to get caught up in this mess?

He turns, walking along the floor closest to the wall before getting to what he’s deemed his room.

It used to be an office from what he can tell. A desk pushed against the far wall and a ripped sofa he’s been using as a bed on the other wall. The floors were the most stable in this room which really won out.

Danny goes to the desk where all his papers are scattered over the surface. An organizational pattern only he understands as he shuffles through the pile he pulls from the cubby above the desk. It holds all the same information he sent into the police, just in its raw form with about twice the amount of useless information. Along with it is a few other ‘cases’ that sounds familiar that he just threw together into a pile. Maybe the genius detectives could decipher what he couldn’t.

“Here,” he says, holding out the stack. Red Robin doesn’t hesitate to take it off his hands.

There’s no chair for the desk anymore so he slides some papers out of the way to hop onto the desk to wait.

“No.”

The vigilantes look at him and he shakes his head and looks over to the side.

“No, Abby. I’m not wasting their time.”

Red Robin goes back to flipping through papers. Most of them were old business papers he had found in the office and just written on the back. Some were receipts or pamphlets or some other random scrap of paper he could get his hands on.

“Because yours was an accident. There’s nothing for them to solve.”

Robin watched him cautiously as if waiting for Danny to snap or suddenly turn violent. Instead he leans back on his hands in a vulnerable position which screamed ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone’.

“There is a lot more information here than what was submitted to the police,” Red Robin comments neutrally, purposefully ignoring Danny’s exasperated sigh and one-sided conversation.

Danny shrugs in defense, “Didn’t think all of it was relevant.”

The vigilante doesn’t respond.

Robin drifts closer as Danny gives a withering glare to the corner. He examines the mess of papers surrounding the teen in the low lighting.

“Are these all files of victims?”

Danny glances over them with a knowledgeable eye.

“Most.” He twists to point at the top left corner of the cubbies. “Those are accidents though… well, what sounds like accidents.”

“There should be more.”

Danny looks at the boy with a tilted head and raises brow.

“Not everyone sticks around,” he explains simply.

Then something draws his attention away across the room. Surprisingly his eyes don’t glaze over like someone with mental illness, instead they sharpen to see something they can’t. It resembled Constantine or Thomas.

“Greg, these guys wanna talk to you.”

What proceeds is a very awkward interaction with Danny as a middle man between victim and vigilante. Despite the need for a translator, Red Robin does in fact get a lead from the conversation.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Danny nods. “Sure, no problem. Just don’t rat me out to the police and I can help with any other case that pops up with a ghost attached.”

“You know we can help with your living situation,” Red Robin offers with a glance around the room.

“What, and put me in foster care? No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“There are other options,” Robin chimes in with nonchalance that implies he doesn’t actually care.

“You don’t pass for eighteen, but if you let me make you a new ID we could say you’re emancipated.”

Danny frowns.

“I’d have to be sixteen to be eligible for emancipation.”

“You could be sixteen.”

No, he really couldn’t. Maybe if you squint your eyes and tilt your head, but Danny is fourteen with all the baby fat and innocent face that comes with it. His license now is a clear fake to anyone who sees it, but in this city no one’s gonna question it to his face. They just raise a brow, look at him, then shrug it off and roll with the lie.

“What do you want?” He demands. All this good will and wanting to help him can’t be free.

“We want to help,” Red says too easily.

Danny stares for a second, eyes narrowed as he tries to block out the multiple voices around him.

Insurance. He wants Danny to owe him so he can keep coming back for more information.

“I just told you I would help. Why are you still trying to get leverage?” He demands with irritation.

“We want to help-“

“You want me in your back pocket.”

Red Robin doesn’t give that a response, his lips pressing together to make a hard line.

Instead of pushing, he surprisingly takes a step back and heads towards the door, papers still in hand. Danny doesn’t argue.

Robin ducks out first, blending into the shadows without even a glance over his shoulder. Red Robin pauses in the doorway.

“Don’t try to skip town,” he states like an order. Like if Danny did in fact try, he would be found and brought back.

It didn’t even cross Danny’s mind.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says tiredly, too fed up with the day to defend himself.

Red Robin watches him for a moment before nodding and disappearing out the room.

Danny slumps with a groan, finally sliding off the desk to shuffle to the couch, body flopping face first into the worn cushions.

It’s silent to everyone else but Danny.

“I know.”

…

“I know, Jack, but I don’t trust them. Even if he is your son.”

Danny never noticed the bug planted by Robin on the underside of the desk.

[hanniebaeee]

Clueless: Baby Bang

Bang Chan x fem!reader

Warnings: Reader is pregnant (just that, nothing deep)

Genre: established relationship, flufffff

Summary: You've been distant lately, and Chan can't understand why. Because this is very unusual for the two of you as you two are on each other all the time. And Chan panics as you guys are getting married in a few months, and this sudden change is unraveling him.

Clueless Masterlist

Chan paced the living room, a deep frown etched into his forehead. You hadn’t touched him in days. Weeks, actually. That alone was already a catastrophe, considering the fact that you two were basically like bunnies.

But now? Nothing. You were dodging his touches like he was contagious. He reached for your hand? Oh, look, you suddenly needed both hands to text someone. He tried for a kiss? Whoops, you conveniently yawned. Bedtime? You were already asleep. 

And that diamond ring glittering on your ring finger? It made him wonder if you were regretting saying yes to him already.

He’d spent way too many nights staring at the ceiling, feeling like the universe was punishing him for something he didn't even know he did.

Chan sighed and opened the group chat. This was bad. He needed to vent.

Chan: She’s avoiding me.

A rapid barrage of notifications followed, and Chan barely had time to process one before another arrived. 

Minho: Y/N? The one who’s practically glued to your lap 24/7?

Hyunjin: LMAO. Not possible. I won't believe it.

Seungmin: You obviously did something.

Chan: NO, I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!

Chan: She’s been acting weird for WEEKS. 2 weeks to be exact. No kisses. No hugs. No… anything.

Jisung: No sex? BRO. Are you okay?

Felix: What if she’s planning something? Like a surprise? Maybe a wedding thing?

---

Chan paused. That was… not unreasonable. But no. You’d never kept secrets from him before. Like you've given him enough surprises before so he knew this was different.

---

Minho: OR. She’s finally come to her senses about you seducing her into saying yes? 

Chan: Minho. I will come to your house and end you.

Jeongin: But seriously, hyung. Did you say something? Do something? Forget an important date? You’re kind of a workaholic.

---

That hit a little too close to home. Chan frowned, scrolling back through his mental timeline of your relationship.

---

Chan: I didn’t forget anything. I swear. We were fine until a couple weeks ago, and now she’s avoiding me like the plague.

Changbin: Well. There’s only one logical explanation.

Changbin: She’s been abducted by aliens and replaced with a clone.

Jisung: YES. I second this. The real Y/N would NEVER do this. 

Felix: Omg guys! 

Chan: GUYS.

Hyunjin: Okay. What if she’s mad because you’re not initiating? She’s waiting for you to grovel.

Seungmin: That makes no sense. If she’s mad, why not just say so?

Hyunjin: IDK, some people like drama.

Jeongin: That’s your toxic trait, Hyung.

Hyunjin: IS NOT!

---

Chan groaned, dropping his phone onto the couch. He missed you. Like, really missed you. Sure, he wanted to rip your clothes off 90% of the time, but he also missed the simple things - your cuddles, your soft laugh, the way you’d always need him by your side when you're stressed. 

The cold shoulders and polite smiles were killing him.

---

Minho: Just confront her, idiot. Corner her in the kitchen and ask her what’s wrong.

Chan: You think I haven’t tried that?! Every time I ask, she changes the subject.

Jisung: Okay, hear me out. Seduction.

Chan: What?

Jisung: Set the mood. Candles. Sexy music. Flex those ridiculous arms. She won’t stand a chance.

Felix: Worth a try. 

---

That night, Chan put the "seduction plan" into action. He dimmed the lights, skipped the candles, and put on a romantic playlist. He even went full drama, lounging on the couch with his shirt conveniently unbuttoned.

When you walked in, your eyebrows shot up as you asked, “What's up?”

Chan said nothing, just held held his hand out.  You froze, guilt flashing across your face, and Chan knew he had you. You placed your hand on his and let him pull you close.

“Baby, what’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me, and it’s driving me crazy. Did I do something wrong?” His voice cracked, and that set you off.

Your eyes filled with tears, and in an instant you were in his lap, clinging to him like your life depended on it.

“I’m sorry, Channie! I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Then why -”

“Shhh,” Chan fell silent as you pressed a finger to his lips. “Just know that I love you, Channie.”

Chan was suspicious. Because, well, you’d shut him up in the best way possible, last night - all he remembered was his shirt coming off and yeah.

You’d seduced him. Thoroughly. And while his brain had short-circuited at that time, he was now absolutely certain that you’d dodged his questions on purpose.

At least he can't complain about you not touching him anymore, right?

---

Chan: It didn't work.

Minho: WHAT didn't?

Chan: She kinda caught me off guard. And avoided my questions.

Jisung: I thought we agreed on YOU seducing her and you got seduced??

Felix: Soooo… you still don’t know what’s going on?

Chan: NO. She’s hiding something, I know it.

Hyunjin: Maybe you’re overthinking. Or, maybe she’s secretly a spy.

Changbin: She’s NOT a spy, Hyunjin. That’s ridiculous.

Hyunjin: And alien clones aren’t?

Minho: Why are we even helping you? You let her seduce you and then just… forgot your goal.

---

Chan groaned, flopping onto his back. It wasn’t his fault! He was weak when it came to you. All it took was a look, or a whisper of his name and his brain turned to mush.

Still, Minho had a point.

---

Chan: Okay, fine. What do I do now?

Felix: She’s probably just stressed? Weddings are a big deal. She might just need time to sort her thoughts.

That gave Chan pause. Weddings were stressful. Maybe that was it?

Hyunjin: My bet’s still on spy.

---

Meanwhile, you were in the bathroom, staring at the little plastic stick in your hand for the hundredth time now. You’d known for two weeks, but the reality hadn’t gotten any less terrifying.

You were pregnant. Pregnant. With Chan’s baby.

The thought sent your heart racing. You loved him more than anything, but… you’d never talked about kids. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he panics when you bring it up? 

There were only a few months until the wedding. You didn’t want to dump this on him now and risk throwing him into a spiral.

---

That night, Chan decided to take Minho’s advice (for once). No more distractions. He was getting answers tonight.

When you walked into the living room and his eyes locked onto yours - you froze. He looked so handsome, and a little…worn out? You felt so guilty for doing this. 

“Come sit,” he said, patting the couch beside him.

You hesitated, but complied, heart pounding.

“Baby, we need to talk,” Chan said, his voice soft but firm.

You swallowed hard as you murmured, “About what?”

“You’ve been acting weird for weeks. And you obviously don't trust me enough to talk it out. I’m worried. What's going on? Is it the wedding?” He was giving you that puppy eyed look, and your heart shattered.

“No, Channie, it's not like that...”

“Then what is it? Please, just tell me.”

You opened your mouth, ready to spill everything - but then you panicked. The words caught in your throat, and instead, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.

Here he was - caught off guard (again) but quickly melting into the kiss. You climbed into his lap, your hands tangling in his hair, and within seconds, all thoughts of questioning were gone.

---

Chan: SHE DID IT AGAIN.

Minho: You’re hopeless.

Seungmin: At this rate, she could rob a bank and get away with it.

Felix: Honestly, I’m impressed.

---

Chan sighed, glaring at the group chat before throwing his phone across the bed. Whatever you were hiding, it was big. And he was determined to find out, one way or another.

Little did he know, in the bathroom, you were rehearsing how to tell him the truth: that in just a few months, he wasn’t just going to be your husband.

He was going to be a dad.

Chan was officially losing it. His imagination had gone to some very dark places (thanks to Changbin’s clone theory and Hyunjin’s spy nonsense), but now he just felt defeated. What was so big and terrifying, that you felt like you couldn’t share it with him?

Chan: I give up. She’s unbreakable.

Jisung: Hey don't lose hope.

Minho: Pathetic.

Jeongin: Just sit her down and don’t let her leave until she talks.

Chan: I’VE TRIED THAT.

Chan was ready to lock himself and you in a room till you cracked, but unfortunately he was already cracking under the stress. And then a lightbulb went off in his head. There was just one person in the world who might be able to get through to you.

Felix.

---

Felix was, to put it lightly, concerned when Chan cornered him in his kitchen.

“Lix, you have to help me,” Chan said, his eyes wild and desperate.

“Help you how?” Felix asked cautiously.

“Can you please try to talk to her?” Chan literally begs. “She loves you, Lix. Maybe she’ll tell you if you ask?”

Felix hesitated, torn between loyalty to Chan, who was literally his brother and his friendship with you. But ultimately, his desire to help won anyway.

“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll talk to her.”

---

Later that afternoon, you opened the door to find Felix standing on your porch, holding a box of cookies and his sunniest smile. 

“Lixie?” you asked, surprised. “So good to see you!”

“Just wanted to check on you, love,” he said, coming forward to hug you.

You stepped aside to let him in, and the two of you settled on the couch.

“I baked these for you,” he said, watching your reaction closely as you opened the box and munched on a cookie immediately. “You’ve been looking a little stressed lately.”

You stopped mid-chew, guilt gnawing at you.

“I’m fine, Lix. Just… wedding stuff, you know?” you said, carefully avoiding his eyes.

“Is it really just the wedding?” Felix tilted his head, unconvinced.

You froze, your hands tightening around the box.

“You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I won’t judge.” Felix said, reaching out and placing a gentle hand over yours.

Your eyes welled up with tears, and as you put the box aside gently. Felix scooted closer as he saw the tears fall, and before you knew it, the truth came spilling out.

“I’m pregnant, Felix,” you whispered. “And I don’t know how to tell Chan. We’ve never talked about kids, and I don’t even know if he wants them. And now the wedding’s so close, and I’m scared I’ll ruin everything. I already got my wedding dress and I don't think I'll fit into it anymore because by that time-”

Felix’s eyes went wide, and for a moment, he looked like he might burst into tears himself. But then he let out a strangled laugh.

“You’re… you’re pregnant?”

You nodded, sniffled and managed a soft, “Yeah.”

Felix threw his arms around you, nearly knocking you over. 

“Oh my God, Y/N! I’m so happy for you! And for Chan! You’re gonna have the cutest baby in the world!” he gushed, his eyes sparkling with happy tears. 

You couldn’t help but laugh through your own tears. 

“You don't think this is a disaster?” you asked softly, wiping your tears away. 

“Disaster?” Felix pulled back, shaking his head. “Of course not. This is amazing! But you have to tell Chan. He’s going insane trying to figure out what’s wrong.”

“I know,” you said softly. “I just… I’m scared.”

Felix gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Chan loves you more than anything. Trust me, he’s gonna be over the moon. And I'll always be here for you. Seriously, sweetheart, this is the best news ever.”

---

Hyunjin: Well? Did she tell you?

Jisung: SPILL, FELIX.

Chan: Felix? Please. I’m dying here.

Felix hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He couldn’t betray your trust, but he also couldn’t leave Chan hanging.

Felix: She’s okay. She’s just… working through something.

Minho: And you’re being suspiciously vague.

Seungmin: Should've known that sending her best friend to investigate wasn't your strongest idea… obviously he's gonna take her side! 

Felix: I promised I wouldn’t say anything. But it’s nothing bad, I swear.

Chan: Seriously?? Nothing bad? Then why is she avoiding me?

Felix: Just… be patient with her, okay? She’ll tell you when she’s ready. I promise it's all ok. Trust me. 

Chan frowned at the message, his heart twisting.

You had spent the whole night rehearsing what to say to Chan, your stomach churning with nerves. Morning came far too quickly, and as you watched him shuffle into the kitchen with his hair messy and his sleepy face, you nearly chickened out.

But Felix’s words echoed in your head. He’s gonna be over the moon.

“Channie,” you said softly, placing your mug of tea aside and taking a step towards him. 

He looked up from the coffee maker, his sleepy eyes brightening instantly. You were trying to talk to him, and somehow that was enough. Anything was better than you avoiding him. 

“Morning, baby.”

You smiled nervously, gesturing to the table. “Can we talk?”

His brow furrowed, worry flashing across his face as he nodded and sat down opposite you.

“Is everything okay?”

You took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you said, “You know how I’ve been… weird lately?”

Chan nodded, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Well,” you continued, “there’s a reason for that. And I’ve been scared to tell you because it’s big. Like, really big.”

“Baby, whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise, I’ll handle it.” Chan said, reaching across the table and taking your hand in his.

Your eyes filled with tears as you finally said it.

“I’m pregnant.”

Chan froze. Completely. His mouth hung open, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as his brain processed your words.

“You’re… pregnant?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, tears spilling over.

“Yeah. I found out a couple of weeks ago, and I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know if you’d be okay with it, or if it was too much with the wedding coming up -”

Chan cut you off by pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. His body shook as he let out a half-laugh, half-sob, and you realized he was crying.

“Channie, are you okay?” you asked nervously, your own voice shaking as you stroked his hair.

“Okay?” he choked out, pulling back to look at you with tear-streaked cheeks and the biggest grin you’d ever seen. “Baby, I’m better than okay. I’m… I’m gonna be a dad?”

You nodded, your heart swelling at the pure joy on his face.

Chan laughed, his tears flowing freely now.

“Holy crap. I don’t know what to say?! We’re having a baby. A baby!”

Before you could say anything else, Chan was  peppering your face with kisses, squeezing you in the tightest hug ever.

“I love you so much. Baby, you’re…I can’t believe you’ve been carrying this on your own.” he said, cupping your cheeks with his hands. 

“I didn’t want to stress you out,” you admitted, clinging to him as he pulled you onto his lap. “And…I've never been more scared about anything my entire life? I mean, I adore you, and I know I want this with you, our baby already means the world to me…but not knowing if you would want that too? It's been killing me, we've never even joked about this before, Channie… “

“You could’ve told me sooner, baby,” he said softly, kissing the tip of your nose. “I thought we were clear about this, with you, I'm ready for anything! But I get it. And I love you even more for worrying about me. But baby, we’re in this together. Always.”

---

Chan: GUYS. I HAVE NEWS. HUGE NEWS 🤩

Jisung: Finally!! 

Hyunjin: I told you she's a spy!! No one ever listens to me!! 

Minho: He’s too happy for that, you idiot.

Chan: WE’RE HAVING A BABY.

Jeongin: Excuse me, WHAT?

Changbin: STOP. Really?! 

Seungmin: Wow, plot twist

Felix: Oh thank godddddd😭😭😭😭

Felix: I was dying here

Chan: SHE TOLD ME THIS MORNING. I’M GONNA BE A DAD. WE’RE GONNA BE PARENTS. OMG.

---

It felt like everytime he said it, it felt a little more real.

---

Jisung: Congratulations, bro. Wow. 

Hyunjin: I AM CRYING. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE REPRODUCING.

Chan: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Chan: MY BABYGIRL AND I ARE HAVING A BABY😭💖

Minho: Jokes aside, this is such great news!! Congrats. Now go take care of your pregnant fiancée instead of spamming us.

Chan: I think I'm gonna faint

Changbin: Congrats, bro. But also… HOW DID YOU NOT NOTICE SHE WAS GOING THROUGH SOMETHING?

Chan: I NOTICED! I just didn't think she was, you know

Jisung: Avoiding you because she was growing your spawn, apparently.

Hyunjin: “Spawn” makes it sound like a little gremlin. Oh my Gawd 🤣

Felix: STOP. My baby’s gonna be so adorable I’ll CRY 😭

Minho: Okay, Felix, you’re suspiciously calm about this. Did you already know?

Felix: 👀

Hyunjin: YOU KNEW.

Chris: WHAT?? FELIX, YOU KNEW BEFORE ME?!

Felix: SHE TOLD ME FIRST, OKAY? SHE WAS NERVOUS, AND I PROMISED I WOULDN’T SAY ANYTHING.

Jisung: Wow. Betrayal.

Chan: SO YOU JUST LET ME SUFFER FOR WEEKS??

Felix: Yes. And? I'd do it again for her.

Changbin: LMAO savage.

Jeongin: Shame on you for trusting him when everyone knows he works for her

Chan: Thanks for being on her side, Lix

Felix: Anytime 💖

Hyunjin: Omg, imagine Baby Bang. Tiny curls, tiny dimples 😍

Chan: STOP I’M ALREADY CRYING AGAIN 😭

Jeongin: I've never been this excited for a baby really. You'd let us babysit won't you? 

Changbin: Oh yeah. Group uncle duty.

Hyunjin: We're gonna be dancing before we can even walk Baby Bang 🤝

Felix: For sure!

Chan: THANK YOU GUYS FOR BEING EXCITED FOR US!

Jisung: Save your tears for the wedding, Daddy Bang.

Jeongin: When do we throw a baby shower? Felix?

Felix: Already planning it.

Hyunjin: This baby’s gonna be so loved.

Chan: THANK YOU, GUYS. I LOVE YOU ALL 😭

---

Chan added Y/N to the group chat.

Chan: SURPRISE, BABY! WELCOME TO THE CHAOS.

Jisung: AHHH THE QUEEN IS HERE!

Hyunjin: ALL HAIL THE BABY-MAKER 👑

Minho: Congrats on creating life and also tolerating Chan for this long.

Felix: YAYYYYYY YOU’RE HERE! 😭 We’ve been dying to have you here!!!

Jeongin: Thank you for gifting us Baby Bang. We promise to only slightly corrupt them.

Changbin: We’re all crying. I’m crying. Hyung is crying. Everyone’s crying.

Y/N:😂

Y/N: Oh my God, you guys.

Minho: This is us being tame.

Hyunjin: Soooo, what does it feel like, hm? Asking for research purposes, of course

Chan: Oh yeah, totally not gonna run off and impregnate someone 🙄

Hyunjin: What's it to you Christopher? You can do it, but I can't?! 

Chan: Oh please

Minho: I told her to get a collar for this damn puppy and look who's here yapping

Y/N: Leave him alone guys!

Hyunjin: I respect you, Y/N. I respect you. So I'm gonna shut up (Mr Know, let's do this face to face huh)

Minho: Gladly.

Felix: Honestly, Y/N, we’re just honored to be part of this. 

Y/N: Thanks guys, this means a lot to us. 

Changbin: And we’re going to spoil them rotten.

Jeongin: Rotten is an understatement.

Y/N: 🤭🤭🤭

Minho: You won't even know what hit you for the next 18 years. Or 30.

Chan: GUYS. Stop scaring her. Baby, they’re joking.

Felix: We’re not.

Hyunjin: Nope.

Jisung: Absolutely not.

Y/N: I'm all in for that hehe

Chan: I love you guys

Jisung: Chan’s in his feels again.

Felix: We have a wedding and baby shower to plan! 

Hyunjin: OMG. A pregnant bride. You’re gonna be so GLOWY.

Y/N: Thank you for being this excited for us. I love you guys 😭💖

Felix: We love you too!! 🥺💖

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8

[st4rpiece]

dealing with a rude server

SWF

characters: luffy, zoro, law, crocodile x f! reader summary: how the guys would handle a server being rude/disrespectful towards you in front of them CW: not proofread, killing (law and crocodile), toxic behavior from servers, but mainly fluff [different kinds of reader traits are mentioned in different scenarios: allergies (not specified), height + weight (kind of specified), speech impediment (more specifically stuttering)]

Monkey D. Luffy

luffy doesn't bother reading the menu at any restaurant you guys go to, and that's because he gets the same thing every time; one of everything. you, however, love taking your sweet time examining the menu and familiarizing yourself with the items, especially if you guys are on a new island. 

another reason was because of your allergies, you wanted to make sure the food you were eating didn’t contain anything that could trigger a reaction. unfortunately, a lot of the food served at this particular restaurant contained that exact ingredient, so your options when it came to food were limited. usually, you'd pick a dish you’d like with a couple of new dishes to try, but as a precaution, you stuck to just one. 

while deciding, you noticed how overly friendly the server had been with luffy, answering all his weird questions and agreeing to his even weirder requests. had you been treated the same, you (like luffy) would’ve brushed it off as just over-the-top service, but you weren’t. it was clear that they had a thing for luffy, so clear that they didn’t even bother to hide their feelings towards you. 

while ordering, they would cut you off to properly pronounce a word you had mispronounced, or answer your questions in a condescending tone, a stark contrast to the way they had treated luffy. and although you didn't ask, they began recommending meals they knew you couldn’t have because you had already told them about your allergies. 

the treatment was unfair but not worth fighting over so despite all that, neither of you commented on their actions (although it was clear that luffy was bothered by it). he didn’t like that they would recommend a dish you couldn’t eat as if mocking you. still, he kept quiet, thinking that was all you guys had to deal with.

when your food arrived, and instead of getting what you ordered, you got the exact dish the server had recommended earlier. everything about it was exactly as they had advertised it to be, and while it did look and smelt nice, it wasn't what you ordered. luffy could turn a blind eye to any harm done to him, but he wasn’t as lenient when it came to you. seeing the server stand there with a smirk on their face as if they didn't just hand you something that could kill you pissed him off greatly. 

“is this some fucking joke?” luffy asked, his voice a mixture of disbelief and anger as his eyes bore into the server, demanding an answer. 

“you know she didn’t order this,” he said, pointing at the offending plate in front of you. the server's eyes darted from luffy’s intense gaze to the food and back again, their cheeks flushing a deep red as they realized their mistake.

“i-i’m so sorry, i’ll get your order fixed right away,” they stammered, their hands trembling as they hastily retreated to the kitchen.

after the stunt they just pulled, their words do nothing to ease luffy’s anger or anxiety. so despite not being allowed in the kitchen, he still went. demanding he keep an eye on the cooks, making sure your dish was prepared quickly and correctly.

once it was done he would personally bring it out to you, intensely assessing you for any weird reactions as you took your first bite. after giving him the nod of approval and your usually happy smile, his eyes would light up with relief before joining indulging in his own meal.

Roronoa Zoro

zoro never orders his food cause he doesn’t care what he eats as long as there’s some good alcohol. so, by default, you've always been the one in charge of ordering. something you enjoyed doing because of the praise you'd get whenever he liked the dish you picked out. the server, unfamiliar with your relationship dynamic, placed all the attention on zoro, waiting for his order with little to no acknowledgment towards you.

“what are you looking at me for? she’s the one ordering,” he’d say, nodding his head in your direction. his brows furrowed in annoyance, eyeing the server intensely, watching them apologize frantically before they finally turned to you, giving you their undivided attention.

seeing this you began ordering a mountain of food; ones you liked, ones you knew he’d like, and a couple of new things for you both to try. you were ordering a lot, especially for just two people, but with zoro’s appetite and your love for trying new dishes, you knew it wouldn't go to waste. the server, watching you order all this food, couldn’t keep their negative thoughts to themselves. 

“no wonder she’s so big,” they mumbled under their breath as they wrote down the rest of your order. unprepared for the sudden blade aimed directly at their neck, scaring them in the process.

“come again?” zoro asked, his brows still furrowed, but this time in anger as his blade hovered mere inches from their neck.

the restaurant was silent, the usual chatter of customers and clanging of kitchenware had ceased abruptly. the server’s eyes were wide with terror. they truly didn’t think anyone could hear them.

“i-i just meant she’s tall and muscular like she must work out a lot!” they stuttered, their voice trembling.

zoro’s grip tightened around the blade, the insult was clear. you both knew what she meant; still, he decided to withdraw his blade, sliding it back into its sheath.

“watch your fucking mouth,” he warned his voice a dangerously low rumble that sent a shiver down their spine. they nodded fervently, their eyes never leaving the spot where the blade had just been. after apologizing some more, they quickly left to go get your food, not wanting to anger him even more. 

her words didn’t bother you, and if they did you could’ve easily handled it, but the sight of your usually level-headed boyfriend threatening someone’s life for your sake was pretty hot. you couldn’t help but tease him about it, loving the way his ears redden in response.

Trafalgar Law

law doesn’t eat out much, nothing against it he just hates rowdy places, the extroverted personality of his crew was enough for him to deal with. however, after getting together with you, he found himself at a lot of different restaurants watching you gush over a new dish, excited to recreate them back on the submarine. he usually kept quiet while you ordered, trusting your judgment on whatever you picked for him. 

food was one of the few outlets that allowed you to express yourself without words. due to your speech impediment, you tended to avoid talking to anyone you weren’t close with, as it was something you were insecure about. but, when it came to food, you could ramble all day regardless of how many times you stuttered. and it helps that all of the restaurants you've been to had servers who were patient and kind, giving you the time to order without judgment. 

when visiting a new place law would always ask if you wanted him to order instead, usually after assessing the environment of the restaurant or, in this case, the server's attitude. one he picked up on as they gave their introduction still, you insisted on being the one to order. things were going fine with you ordering as you normally would, before becoming aware of the growing look of disinterest and impatience on the server's face. this made you feel like you were taking too much of their time, causing you to speed up, rushing through your words. something you instantly regretted after coming across a word you weren’t familiar with, butchering it along with your stutter.

noticing the sudden shift in your mood, law takes your hand, drawing small circles on your palm as a way to calm you down. but the warmness from his hands was overshadowed by the muffed chuckle from your server. you weren't sure if they were laughing at your pronunciation or at your stutter either way, you were too embarrassed to say anything else. 

“what's so funny?” he asked, a noticeable edge in his voice. the server, however, failed to detect it.

“my apologies,” they said insincerely, mockery evident in their eyes. “what was it that you wanted again?”

you didn't bother answering instead, turning to your boyfriend, hoping he’d take over. unprepared for the sight of the server’s heart clutched in his hands. 

coming face to face with their heart made them realize the gravity of the situation that they were in, but before they could plead for their life, law squeezed tightly around their heart, silencing them with the pain. 

“get us a different server,” he demanded, watching them frantically search for the nearest coworker with a gaping hole in their chest drawing the attention of the nearby patrons. after arriving with their replacement, they began apologizing for their actions, hoping that law would spare them. 

as if he'd spared them after disrespecting you like that. so in front of the new server and all of the patrons watching law, pierced his sword right through their heart, killing them on the spot. the atmosphere in the restaurant completely chilled as everyone was shocked at the lifeless body on the ground while you and law remained unfazed.

“go on baby tell her what you wanted” and that's exactly what you did telling the new waitress who patiently waited for your next words about what you and law would be having that evening.

Sir. Crocodile

despite him being the leader of a wanted criminal group with a bounty of over one billion berries on his head, crocodile always finds the time to spoil you even when he isn't home. you'd wake up to mountains of gifts or a surprise solo trip to one of the summer islands. while being with him, you never had to ask or even lift a finger crocodile's always a step ahead, catering to your every need. 

as someone so used to being independent, dating someone like crocodile made you feel so fragile and princess-like. despite your initial barriers, you loved depending on him for simple things you could easily do on your own. like holding doors, planning dates, tying your shoes/putting on your heels, and choosing your meals. it’s been two years, and you’ve stopped reaching for doors and picking what to eat, always letting him do it. 

but what you loved the most was being able to spend quality time with him, something you couldn't do often due to his hectic "job." sometimes you'd go months without seeing him, so whenever you guys had that downtime, you cherished it.

he had just returned home after being away for a month, establishing a base in the south blue, and while he doesn't think it's something worth celebrating he knows you do. so, he made dinner reservations at one of the fanciest restaurants on the winter island. it was a pretty restaurant with an even prettier view, but despite the warm atmosphere you couldn't help but be bothered by the server's attitude.

while crocodile ordered you noticed the server's lust-filled gaze as they looked at him, but what bothered you wasn't her looking at him (you knew your man was fine) it was how she purposefully ignored your presence while doing so. for the sake of keeping peace, you don't call her out, planning to vent about it to him later.

after the server left crocodile got a call from mihawk and you figured it was urgent since mihawk never calls unless it was.

“i’ll be right back baby, just need to take this,” he said placing a small kiss on your forehead before leaving to take his call.

not long after, the server returns with your drinks with the same flirty smile that immediately drops the moment they noticed he was gone. 

“the sex must be real good if he’s willing to take someone like you here,” they mumbled disgust evident in their voice as they sized you up.

“and what? you think he’d bring someone like you here instead?” you asked. your tone and expression filled with mockery as you returned their heated gaze. it was clear they had expected their words to have a greater effect on your confidence not expecting you to have a sharp tongue.

“don’t get so cocky, i’m sure you're not the only one he’s seeing,” they said with a sneer, their voice rising slightly above the murmur of the restaurant unaware of the looming figure behind them.

while making his way back to your table crocodile had managed to catch the last bit of their words. he didn’t know what they were talking about or who started the argument and honestly he didn’t care. they had disrespected you and to him that good enough reason to kill them. without bothering to make his presence known, he snaps their neck earning a chorus of gasps from the horrified patrons as they watched the servers body drop dead on the floor. his expression unchanged, as he wordlessly looks around looking for the nearest worker, requesting a different table with a new server.

the manager rushes over, sweat beading on his forehead as he frantically apologize for the disturbance the dead server had caused. crocodile calmly hands him a wad of cash, enough to cover the meals of the entire restaurant for the night. "make it right," he instructed, his voice as smooth as the whiskey in his glass.

the man nodded fervently, snapping at his staff to clean up and move them to a different section. the murmurs grew louder as people whispered about what they had just witnessed. but crocodile's eyes remained on you, his hand reaching out to take yours. "you okay?" he asked his grip firm and reassuring.

“oh please,” you said rolling your eyes at his unnecessary worry. “as if her words could bother me. i know you’re all mine,” you said taking a sip from your wine and watching as his eyes narrowed slightly in amusement.

“damn right, i am,” his voice was a low growl sending a shiver down your spine, not one of fear but of excitement.

One Piece Masterlist

having an idea is so much more fun then actually writing down that idea T~T plus i had no time to write these past couple of days due to school. (neuroscience has been kicking my ass).

also i hope i did the reader traits justice or at least done them properly (if not let me know so I can tweak it!)

anyways i hope you guys enjoyed this !! (wrote mini version for the usual people but i ran out of ideas so theres no part 2 :p)

and for those that sent requests i see you and i promise will get to them when i have time 😭😭

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 10 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: A fight turns into something beautiful. Turns into what could be your last day on earth.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder/rape/death, hinting at suicidal thoughts (only briefly and not really serious, but I'll put it here nonetheless), body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation and low self-esteem, mentions of sexual activities and desires, smut, (rough) sex, oral sex, switch, degradation kink, dom/sub dynamics, daddy, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

The tight smile.

It was all you needed to see to know you were in great, big trouble. It was really disappointing though, considering how good the day had started.

When you woke up, right after having a short, restless sleep, you saw him lying beside you. And for once, ever since you had gotten here, he wasn’t awake. No, he was deep asleep. His beautiful  eyes shut tightly and his expression one of peaceful relaxation. You hadn’t ever seen him this perfect before.

It was nearly ridiculous. Just a few hours earlier, he had ravaged you in a way that left you feeling sore and used, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but somehow you had a feeling last night was different. It wasn’t the sex per say. It was the way he got angry and you felt you couldn’t get through to him, even if you truly wanted to. And what was far worse than all of it, was the threat.

The threat.

What did it even mean?

I would never kill you. At least not unless you gave me a reason to.

It wasn’t even a subtle threat. He didn’t try to hide that he was twisted and dangerous. Dangerous for you, if you pushed the right buttons. You had done so quite some times by now, but luckily you were still around. But how much was too much?

What would make his mind go blank and cause him to swing an axe at you?

Shoot you right in the face?

Gut you in the middle of the-

You shuddered and took a long, deep breath to calm yourself. This wasn’t going to happen. You wouldn’t anger him to that degree. And yet, you couldn’t keep yourself from thinking about it.

What could possibly piss him off enough, to trigger such an extreme reaction?

If you went out and fucked someone else?

Or if you spilled milk on the coffee table?

You took another slow breath and looked back at his peaceful, sleeping form. It was hard not to love him, when he was like this. Sweet. Peaceful.

Vulnerable.

You hadn’t even seen vulnerable, regarding him. Not really. You didn’t know his name, his family, his backstory or anything else that truly mattered. All you knew was which buttons to push and it would make him slap you. You had his age. And his sexual preferences. You knew he had some kind of dangerous job, but you had no idea what it was about. And you knew he was twisted.

Utterly and entirely twisted.

But you saw none of that as you watched him sleep. All you saw was a handsome man, the most handsome man you had ever seen, even with the faint trace of a scar on his cheek. You still hated the sight of it. Not because it would have done anything to his attractiveness. No, he was very obviously still perfect. It was the fact that he got hurt.

Someone hurt him.

You were surprised just by how angry the thought made you. He was always so confident. It was his choice to either be angry and take it out on you or to be gentle and spoil you with affection and gifts. But it was his choice. He was the man. He was in charge. He was the epitome of strength.

And someone hurt him.

Him.

A part of you was almost tempted to think yours.

Someone hurt your man.

But you pushed the thought away just as quick as it came. He was hardly your man.

Your bane, your curse, your horror. Yes.

But not your man.

When he stirred slightly, you were pulled out of your thoughts. It didn’t take longer than a few seconds for him to blink his eyes open. When he finally looked up at you and met your gaze, a hint of surprise flashed over his features. But he schooled his expression into a soft smile effortlessly.

“Good morning, my little owl.” He purred. “You’re up early.” He raised a brow and smirked slowly. “Were you watching me sleep?”

Your face flushed, but you didn’t feel the need to deny it. It was pretty obvious anyway.

“I did.” You said quietly. “I couldn’t help it. You looked so…peaceful.”

He hummed softly and propped himself up on his elbows, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear with two fingers. “Peaceful? Doesn’t sound like me at all.”

He didn’t seem angry or even irritated that you watched him. If anything, he seemed amused or maybe even strangely flattered.

You shrugged.

“Have you been up for long?”

You shook your head.

He frowned slightly and held your chin in his hand, brushing his thumb over your skin in a gentle way. “You didn’t sleep well. You look like you didn’t sleep at all.”

You averted your gaze. What could you possibly tell him? That you spent all night, asking yourself not if, but when he would finally snap and snap your neck the same?

“Look at me.”

You hesitated, but eventually you met his gaze again. His expression was one of thoughtfulness and curiosity and you knew you had to give him something. He wouldn’t stop pestering you otherwise. You thought for a moment, before you finally gave up. You didn’t trust your ability to lie to him. He would see right through it and punish you for trying to deceive him.

“It’s about last night.” You murmured quietly.

His eyes narrowed slightly, but eventually he relaxed his expression and let go of your chin. With a soft sigh, he murmured back: “Was it too much for you? Too rough?”

You thought about the best possible way to answer this. Eventually you came up with something you would have hoped would be the perfect solution. “I’m still ashamed.”

“Ashamed?” He frowned.

“Because a part of me enjoys it.”

He hummed softly. “We talked about this, sweet girl, but I’ll say it again and again. You have nothing to be ashamed about. First of all, it’s not your fault you turned out like this.”

“That’s kind of the problem.” It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely. It did bother you. Just that the life threatening thing was worse. “I feel like you enjoy what we do, because you simply enjoy it. And I think I enjoy it, because I feel the constant need to get hurt and degraded, because of…because of what happened to me.”

He regarded you with a long, thoughtful look. His eyes softened somewhat and he was back. The man who supposedly cared about you came back, after a long, rough night. He sighed and rolled over so that he was on his back and staring at the ceiling. All the while he stretched out his arm and pulled you along, curling you into his side. He didn’t look at you as he spoke and his tone of voice was almost emotionless.

You couldn’t tell if you preferred this over the anger. Probably not.

“Did I ever tell you about my father?”

You froze. What? No. He hadn’t ever told you anything about himself that mattered. Let alone his family. As far as you were concerned, he didn’t even have a father.

But all you managed was a small, breathless shake of your head.

He hummed softly and played with your hair as he spoke, still keeping his voice cool and measured. He never met your gaze. Almost like he couldn’t. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to appear nonchalant or if he truly didn’t care. You hoped for the first one.

“My father had some creative ways of punishment.” He hummed. Oh, God. “Similar to your mother, I might think. Just more blood. And a few…other things.”

You held your breath as he spoke, feeling utterly sick. The fact that he had so subtly and smoothly threatened your life last night was suddenly the last thing on your mind.

“Don’t get me wrong, sweetness. I was always a little different from other boys my age. I wasn’t interested in the things the others were. I liked different things. Darker things. But I’m pretty sure, had it not been for my father…” He hummed. “He did some nasty things. Really nasty. And not only to me. To my mother as well.” He turned to face you fully, while you still lay frozen and staring at him with bated breath. All the while he caressed your face and spoke in this soft voice, like he was reading from a children’s book. It was eerie. “That might be one of the reasons why I am always in control.” He smiled briefly. “Especially sexually.”

You just kept staring at him. He hadn’t said it outright and he probably never would, but you could tell there was something. Something dark and terrible, something that still haunted him, even after all these years. And it made you sick to the core. The fact that his father, his own father, had hurt him, it made you feel nauseous. And especially, angry.

“So, I should probably be grateful to him, don’t you think?”

You knew you weren’t supposed to say anything to that, anything about that at all. No matter how terrible you felt, no matter how badly you wished to comfort him. He would get angry, because he would think of it as pity. You were sure. But you still had to say it.

“Your father is a sick man.” You said quietly. “And you didn’t deserve whatever he did to you.”

“Oh, I’m aware, my sweet, darling girl.” His face lit up in a soft smile. “I was just a boy. A twisted one, maybe. But still a boy.”

It made you feel as uneasy, as you felt relieved about it. At least he acknowledged it. He had no fault in his father’s cruelty. At least not back then.

And at least there was something. A tiny reminder that he was human, that he was real, that there was something akin to flesh and blood that made him similar to you. Not the fact that it had happened. Oh no, you would have changed it, were you in the power to. You would have bled and suffered, if only it meant to free him from the burden of his past.

No, but the thought that he told you about it. He had a father. A mother. A family. He had a childhood. A life. He was real.

You lay in silence for a long while. Of course you wanted to say more, to comfort him and hug him. To kiss away the fear he had probably felt as a little boy. You wanted to take him in your arms and make him whole again, puzzle him together until he got reunited with the love he was so desperately missing all his life. What about his mother? You asked yourself. But you thought now wasn’t the best time to ask. You didn’t want to risk making him angry, when he wasn’t so far. He hadn’t ever shared as much of himself. You didn’t want to say anything. And, you suddenly realized, you were afraid to pressure him.

So you said the next best thing. In the silent hope, that one day he’d trust you enough to let you in.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” You said very softly. His head perked up and his expression softened. No anger in sight.

“My sweet, caring girl. The ghosts of my past are no more than that. And don’t you worry. I got my revenge.”

You bit your lip and rolled onto your side, facing him properly. The thoughtfulness in your eyes turned into something else the longer you looked at him, a mixture of concern and gentleness. He didn’t seem to mind. He let you stare without interrupting your thoughts. It was a peaceful, comfortable silence.

“How did you get your revenge?” You asked quietly, before you could stop yourself.

He smirked and stretched out his arms behind his head.

“I killed him.”

A part of you had suspected as much. But another part of you, the naïve little girl that you somehow still were, felt horrified. He killed his own father. And yet, that other part of you whispered softly in the back of your mind.

Did you expect anything else?

You thought back to your mother. Had you ever had a gun in the wrong moment-

No. Never. You couldn’t kill anyone. Not even a fucking fly. You were the type of person to chase them out of the window, instead of crushing them.

It wasn’t enough to calm you down and he seemed to notice.

“Are you alright, sweet girl?”

You were going to die anyway. Why not speak freely at least?

Forget his father. He’s dead. But you’re not. Not yet at least.

“You scared me last night.”

His brows furrowed. “When we-“

“No.” You said in a soft tone and slowly sat up, wrapping the sheets around your body. “I mean, yes. Kind of. But that’s not the problem. You scared me when you said…when you said you would kill me if I gave you a reason to.” Your expression and your tone of voice were almost child-like. Innocent and curious, not at all trying to guilt-trip him. Just a girl, scared for her life. Her sanity.

Herself.

“Oh, sweet girl.” He said softly as he sat up as well. He reached out to pull you on his lap, but you pulled back. He frowned, but he didn’t protest.

“I was simply-“

“What could get me killed?”

It was so sharp, so matter-of-fact, that it made him pause for a moment. He looked genuinely caught off-guard, like he never expected him to ask him such a question. And like he wasn’t sure how to answer it.

“What?”

“What could I say or do that would make you kill me?” You asked in a soft voice. Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest, but you tried to stay strong. You needed to get a point across. You needed to know.

He thought for a moment, before he leaned back and narrowed his eyes in a thoughtful frown.

“Another man.”

Cheating. As if you really were anything to each other, right?

Such a normal thing. People got killed over cheating all the time, didn’t they?

Or did they really?

“Another man.” You whispered. “Okay. What else?”

He hummed softly. “If you left me.”

“If I left you?” You meant it in a way as if saying; how would I be supposed to leave you? There aren’t even fucking windows here.

He nodded. “When you leave me, you’re no longer my girl. And I don’t have a reason to keep you alive, if you’re not.”

You swallowed thickly. How very refreshing. He was being honest at least. Wasn’t that what you wanted? And you didn’t know if this was better or worse. You had expected as much.

“Anything else?” You whispered hoarsely.

“No.”

Your brows shot up in surprise. “No? If I don’t cheat on you or leave you, you won’t-“

“No.” He said again, in that infuriating, calm tone.

“And if I insulted you?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking. “If I hurt you? If I-“

“Don’t get me wrong.” The menacing bastard was back. “You don’t get to trample on me, sweet girl. In fact, you know what happens, if you do all that. You’ll get punished. And that didn’t change.” He narrowed his eyes further.

He took a long breath to calm himself and finally said: “I just didn’t want you to be terrified for no reason. I’m sure there are a few more things you can do that will definitely get you killed. So, try not to push my buttons too much. Don’t experiment. Don’t think you get any kind of power. All you are is my girl. Mine. Mine to use. Mine to torment as I please. You’re my plaything. My toy.” He got angrier with every word and you were sure, more than sure, you had done something terribly wrong.

“Mine to use however I see fit.” He gritted out. “Because that’s all you are to me.”

Every word stabbed a wound deeper and deeper into your soul. He didn’t love you. You weren’t an idiot. But a part of you had hoped, hoped so desperately, that you were anything more to him. Anything of meaning. Anything he cared about. Anything he thought about and smiled, when he went off to his mysterious workplace. Anything at all.

But you weren’t. You were his plaything. His fucktoy. His doll.

His girl.

Your face burned in shame and your guts churned painfully. You slowly looked down at your hands and folded them in your lap, while you kept the blanket pulled up to your chin.

“I wasn’t-“

“Yes, you were.” He hissed and roughly pulled your chin up, to make you look at him. “Did you hear me? You’re nothing more than a thing for me to use, a doll, something to dress up in a pretty dress and take my anger out on. Did you get that through your goddamn, thick skull? You’re nothing. Nothing at all.” He spat out.

At this point, you felt indeed like he had stabbed you. The knife was still there on the carpet by the bed. How very reckless. You could have stabbed him last night, didn’t he think about that? No, he was tired or maybe he just trusted himself to have broken you enough not to ever hurt him.

It was true. You wouldn’t ever hurt him. Not like that. That one punch was as far as it could go.

And now, as you sat there and listened to his cruel words, a small part of you suddenly wished he hadn’t bluffed, hadn’t used the knife as a way to find relief in his twisted mind. A part of you wished you weren’t there, to listen to his cruel reminders. The reminder that you were nothing.

Nothing at all.

You felt your hands shake, just the same second your lip quivered.

He was so angry, so furious, he hardly even recognized your presence. He wanted to make some point known.

You understood it now.

He would never love you.

But you? It was too late for you. You already loved him. And he was breaking your heart.

All your life you thought that couldn’t happen to you. You always assumed you were far too numb for these things.

A tear rolled down your cheek and you stared firmly down at your lap. Your hands were shaking furiously and your body shook with the sobs you choked back.

By the time he looked up again and saw the state you were in, his anger immediately disappeared. Something akin to horror took its place instead. He rushed forward without even thinking about it and held your arms tightly, tilting his head down below and staring up at you, to make you look at him.

“Wait.” He said quickly. “Wait. I didn’t mean it.”

You were stuck between pushing him away and letting him console you. But you knew there was probably nothing that could ever bring you back. Your heart, already broken and bruised, had just somehow been pieced back together by him, only for him to crush it again under the palm of his hand, under the cruelty of his words, under the weight of his actions.

You decided to push him back instead. At least for once, you tried to keep a semblance of dignity. It was a lost cause, but it meant something to you.

He let out a surprised exhale, but quickly rushed forward again, trying to get ahold of you, but this time, you struggled.

“Get off of me!”

“No, you need to listen to me!”

“No! No, get the hell off!”

“You need to listen!”

You struggled even harder and pushed him back, clawed at his skin and within seconds you found yourself in the middle of a physical fight. So far, he hadn’t tried to slap you or bring you to your senses anyhow, he just tried to make you focus. And when you hit against his chest or pushed him back by his shoulders, when you scratched his arms and pulled on his hair, he let you. Without retaliating. He let you.

You were just waiting for him to snap. A part of you might even have been hoping to get some kind of reaction out of him, because he had just hurt you so terribly. But he didn’t.

And when you pushed him back against the mattress, he let you.

And when you straddled his lap, he let you.

He even let you intertwine your fingers and press his hands against the bed.

He just let you.

You stopped struggling. Stopped fighting him and stopped trying to provoke anything.

You were on top him, your hair falling over your shoulders and framing your face like a waterfall. Everything else was suddenly gone. All that there was left were him and you. He stared up at you, his eyes wide and his expression one of quiet fascination. Of course he allowed you to take control. After all, all it needed was a tiny bit of strength from him and he’d have you pinned to the floor. But this time, he didn’t. He didn’t protest, didn’t fight back, didn’t even flinch. He allowed you to take the lead. He allowed you to take control of him.

When the thought hit you, you nearly choked on the air you breathed. And you breathed, heavily and quickly, until your breaths mingled into one. You leaned further down, so close that the tip of your nose almost touched his. His chest rose and fell quickly. You could tell, even though you kept your focus on his face.

“You meant it.” You whispered breathlessly.

He stared at you with his mouth slightly agape and then he slowly shook his head. “You’re more.” He whispered back.

More than a toy?

More than a doll?

More than just his girl?

You didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t allow yourself to hope, because if you did, the next time he crushed it, it would be ever harder for you to find back to yourself. And did you really want to risk that?

You shook your head, ready to come up with the next bitter, biting response, when his words caught you off-guard.

“You’re not only mine”, he said quietly. “I’m also yours.”

God, this was confusing. And slowly you felt yourself get as dizzy and nauseous as you would have on a rollercoaster. You hated rollercoasters, because you were afraid of them. You hated them, because you never went on one.

“You’re two people at once.” You whispered breathlessly. “How do I know, when your evil twin will be back?”

He smiled slowly. Even now, even when you felt heartbroken and furious, his smile meant so much to you. It made everything seem beautiful. Everything was easier. Nothing hurt.

Until it did.

“I know.” He whispered. “Maybe you could try and put him in his place, every once in a while.”

You stared at him with wide eyes. Did he really allow you to take control? Just like that? Was it a trick? Was it a game? A joke? Something even more evil he’d come up with?

Whatever it was, you were dying to find out. Because you were sure, you’d get punished anyway. So, why not make use of it?

You took a shaky breath and leaned further down, so close, until your lips almost touched.

“You really didn’t mean it?” You asked in the ghost of a whisper.

His gaze briefly wandered down to your lips, before he looked into your eyes again.

“No.” He whispered back. “Not even I am that dense.”

That nearly made you smile.

But just nearly.

Instead you did something else. You leaned further down, until your lips finally touched his. The kiss was feather-light and hesitant. The touch was so gentle, that you caught yourself asking yourself in your head, if it really was the same man.

He was letting you kiss him. He didn’t try anything. Didn’t try to part your lips or pull you closer. Didn’t try to push your legs apart. His hands were still motionless under yours, all that he did was slowly caress the back of your hands with his fingers.

He participated in the kiss. He kissed you back, obviously. But all he did was mirror your touch.

You were in control.

You gasped against his lips. You had no idea what to do. It felt odd. Maybe even wrong. The only things you had ever fantasized about were to get controlled by someone else.

Controlled by him.

And for you to control him, it sounded like an impossible endeavor. It felt like one, even more. But there you were. On his lap. Slowly guiding the pace.

You swallowed thickly.

“I don’t know what to do.” You whispered into the kiss.

He hummed very quietly. “Imagine I’m the good twin.” He whispered back and pulled back just enough to look at your face. “There is no right or wrong. Just do whatever feels good.”

You bit your lip as you watched him closely. It could still be a trick. But in the back of your mind, you knew it wasn’t. It was an attempt to heal you. Heal him as well, maybe. You were both damaged. Both two fragments, incomplete and alone. Was it possible that you could heal each other?

It sounded strange in your head. You wanted to be controlled. And he survived off the feeling of being in control. But maybe, just maybe, this was what you both needed. A role reverse. A chance to grow. A chance to connote. Just this once.

To become one, whole thing.

You took a deep, shaky breath and brushed your lips over his. You were still nervous. But you tried to do what he said. Just do whatever feels good.

And maybe it would.

You hesitantly, almost shyly, ran the tip of your tongue along his lower lip. His reaction surprised you. He moaned. You really expected him to get off on nothing but cruelty and violence. But somehow the feeling of you, of being with you, in any way, seemed to be enough.

You needed to try it. The shift. The control. Even just this once.

You slowly parted his lips with your tongue and yours met his in a timid, careful movement. He was still the one guiding you. But the biggest reason was, that you had no idea what you were doing. But he was holding himself back. You were on top, pressed against him.

He was yours.

Your man. Your psychopath. Maybe even your lover.

The kiss went on and your movements became more and more confident. You didn’t actually care what you were doing, as long as you heard the soft moans he tried to suppress. And every time he did, you couldn’t help but moan, too. Your tongues tangled in a sinful dance and you slowly slid your fingertips over his wrists and up his arms. Until you eventually reached his shoulders. His neck. His hair. His cheek. His chin.

You hadn’t realized how quickly you were breathing. All the time you expected him to push you away, to reject you, to stop you. But he never did.

Your hand stilled against his face and you pulled your head back to look at him. To see if he was going to stop you. Mock you. Hurt you some more.

But his expression was more earnest than you had ever seen before. You could see the way his throat bobbed slightly as he swallowed and the small, tiny frown of focus on his face. He looked much more mature in that moment than he usually did. When he wore that twisted smile, he looked younger. Carefree. But in that moment, he looked like a man who had seen life.

And death.

And taken a part in it.

He slowly parted his lips, when your fingers stilled against them, inviting you. Your mouth fell open and you inhaled sharply as you felt his tongue dart out.

“God, what are you-“ You stopped yourself and instead released the softest moan, when he ran his tongue along your index finger. His hand gently circled your wrist and he pressed his lips against the back of your hand. Your knuckles. And eventually each finger.

You watched him in awe, realizing you were only ever falling deeper for him.

What was it with that man that you loved him so much, despite all the pain he put you through?

Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. The watching, the silence. You squeezed his hand and your head dipped forward. Your lips found his neck and you made a point of kissing each and every spot of skin you found on the way. His eyes fell shut and he took a shaky breath.

“No.” He whispered. “Wait.”

You immediately froze, expecting the inevitable rejection. But instead, he bit his lip and slowly slid his hands under your nightdress. The calloused skin of his palms ran up your back and he gently slid the material up, until he finally managed to pull it over your head and onto the ground. His gaze wandered from your face, down to your neck, where it lingered and eventually further down to your breasts and your stomach.

“God.” He whispered breathlessly. “God, you’re perfect.” He bit his lip again and met your gaze. “Let me worship you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you tilted your head to the side, only to feel his lips brush along your earlobe and eventually over your neck. You closed your eyes and sighed softly. It was the best feeling in the world.

His lips caressed your neck and his tongue occasionally darted out, drawing a moan from your lips. He moved with devilish slowness, a torturous pace, slow enough to make you melt into a puddle of desire on top of him. A part of you almost wanted to beg him. Beg him to go faster, to touch you harder, to take you. But you didn’t. Because another part of you wanted to savor every second of this.

When you felt the wet heat of his mouth move lower and embrace the sensitive skin of your breast, you felt your eyes roll back in your head. The sigh that came over your lips was more of a moan. You gently buried your fingers in his hair and played with it. Every time his tongue slipped out to run over the curve of your breast, you felt your hips press down against his own on pure instinct. You felt how hard he was, painfully so. But he didn’t press his hips up against you, he didn’t even try once. He was skilled at ignoring his own need, when he wanted to. He made you feel like a princess. Like all that mattered in the world were you.

You squirmed and shuddered when he moved underneath you, brushing his tongue down a wet path on your stomach.

His hands encircled the back of your thighs and he held you firmly, his fingers gently digging into your skin. And he moved. Lower and lower. Until you felt his hot breath kiss the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. A soft whimper left you and you bit your lip to keep yourself from begging. He was going to give you whatever you wanted. Today, there was no need to beg.

He slowly but firmly pushed your legs apart, and settled in-between them, still lying on his back and ignoring his own ache. He shot you a pointed look, before he finally stuck out his tongue and rolled it over the warm wetness of your need.

“Oh, God.”

He hit every right spot at the first try and you could no longer stay silent. His grip on your thighs tightened and he silently encouraged you to move. Move. Take what you want.

You swallowed a shaky moan and began to tentatively move your hips. It didn’t take long for you to figure out how it worked, how you had to move. It was so easy and the pleasure rolled over you like a warm bath.

“Oh, God.” You whispered again, tightening your hand in his hair.

He did the most sinful things, sliding his tongue inside you and pulling it back out, running it along every spot, embracing your center of pleasure with his warm lips and it felt like Heaven. He knew where to kiss, where to lick, where to suck and where to flick his tongue. He knew everything. And in that moment, you didn’t care one bit about where he gained that knowledge.

Because he used it on you.

And he’d be using it on your for as long as you were his girl.

And you wanted to be his girl for the rest of your life.

“Yes. There. Right there.” You gasped out, moving your hips again and silently begging him to continue, to give you what you wanted, to give you him.

And he did nothing less than that. He kissed you like he’d kiss your lips, he tightened his grip, he didn’t let you back away. His mouth was firmly attached to your body, eager to give you everything you wanted. Letting you ride yourself to bliss.

Which was exactly what you did. You didn’t even realize it, by how suddenly it happened, but your release rolled over you like a flash of lightning. It felt more intense than ever. You felt everything deeply and he didn’t stop, until he was sure, you were entirely spent and satisfied.

You were still gasping for air, when he finally released his grip on you and looked up at you with a soft expression.

You stared at him, trying to catch your breath. All you wanted was to say something, anything, but no words came over your lips. All you managed was the gentle touch of your palm against his cheek. He smiled slowly and covered your hand with his own. Then he slowly moved back up, so that you’d straddle his lap again.

“How was that?” He whispered.

“Fuck.” Was all that you managed.

A low laugh rumbled in his chest, but no trace of mockery. Just satisfaction and a tad bit of pride. You forgave him. You would have forgiven him anything.

“Can I?” You finally whispered. You needed to know, if you were still in control.

He smirked. He looked so confident. Just like you always knew him. Confident and strong. In control. And yet…

“I’m all yours, baby. Ride me.”

You bit your lip. Your face flushed the tiniest bit, but you nodded. Now, this was making you really nervous. You had seen videos, but were you able to do it yourself?

Why not? You thought. Why not?

You leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss. Still slow and sensual, but you poured all the passion you felt for him in that kiss. And he responded in kind. He didn’t try to take control of your mouth. Instead he moaned against your lips, every time your tongue brushed against his. He ran a hand down your back and squeezed your behind firmly in his hand.

“Fuck, I need you to ride me or I’m going to die.” He groaned as he bit your lip. You responded with another moan. You still felt his hardness press against you, hard and ready and needy.

God, the thought alone. The thought that he wanted you that much. It drove you insane.

You swallowed thickly and carefully ran a hand down his chest, down his stomach, down his waist, until-

You smiled. You missed his throbbing, aching need and brushed your fingers gently along his thigh instead.

He glared up at you, a hint of desperation behind the repressed anger.

“I should have known this would come.” He hissed.

Your smile widened into a grin, as you teasingly caressed his side instead.

“What? I’m just doing what you do.”

He released a frustrated growl.

“You-“

“Come on.” You whispered. “Let me have this. Just this once.”

He was still frustrated, but the look in his eyes softened the tiniest bit.

“But I want you.” He murmured and you swallowed.

“How much?” You whispered. God, this was fun.

“How much?” He asked incredulously. “Can’t you feel how much?”

You hummed in the same way he normally would. So innocent. So devilish.

“Paint a picture with your words.”

He exhaled sharply. But eventually he calmed down and wrapped his arms around you gently.

“I need to be inside of you or I’m going to die. I’m going to die, I mean it.”

“Keep going.” You whispered. “Talk to me.” While you spoke, you shifted slightly on his lap, gently grinding down on him and letting him feel you. Just enough to make you gasp, not enough for him to enter you yet.

He bit his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

“I want to feel you.” He murmured. “I want to fuck you. I want to be one with you. And I fucking want to cum inside you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you sighed.

“Keep going.” You responded in a breathless whisper, as you ground down against him again. The friction was enough for your both to snap your eyes shut.

“I want you to cum.” He whispered back. “I want you to cum so hard, that it’ll make you cry.”

“Fuck.” You whispered breathlessly and buried your face in his neck. “Fuck, yes.”

You swallowed again and pulled your head back up, enough to rest your forehead against his.

“Let me move then?” You whispered. “Please?”

He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “But fucking get to it.”

You released a shaky sigh. You kept your forehead pressed against his and stared into his eyes, intense and deep, while you slowly spread your legs further. You shifted again, your movements a little awkward and insecure, but eventually you felt him press up against you and you felt his tip press against your entrance. And then you slowly lowered yourself down onto his lap. You felt him fill you, but it happened so slowly that you felt every bit of it. And all the time you kept your gaze fixed on his eyes. His reaction. Every moan, every sigh, every twitch. All of it was enough to make you moan in return. You slowly lowered yourself further down, until you felt him all the way. And when you did…You didn’t move. You stayed like that. Just feeling. Just feeling all of him.

And the look in his eyes was worth it.

You had never seen him this soft, this vulnerable before. Not even when he told you about his father. His eyes were softer than ever before and you suddenly realized; you had never seen him this needy. This desperate to feel you. You were sure, just a second more and he would either take control or beg you. But you couldn’t let that happen.

It was his first time to let someone else take control after all.

And you couldn’t have him begging. You couldn’t have him do anything that would make him feel ashamed, when he was so unabashedly doing everything in order to make you happy.

So finally you moved. Slowly and carefully, very unsure still. But you moved. And he moaned. And he moved. And you moaned.

You had never felt him this deep before, this hard, this raw.

“Ride me.” He whispered breathlessly. “Ride daddy’s cock, baby.”

Your face flushed even more, but all you could focus on were his words. You movements became more forceful, more frantic, more desperate. And as hard as he tried not to move at all, it was simply impossible. He pressed his hips up against you, letting you feel him, so hard and God, so desperate.

“Yes. Yes, babygirl, just like that. Let daddy fill you up.” He groaned out.

With every thrust, every move, you felt yourself get closer yet again. It felt like a fantasy.

“Yes. Yes, my sweet girl, my baby, my darling, my love-“

His eyes widened frantically. He panicked. You could tell. So did you. On the inside. But on the outside, you pretended. You pretended all you could, that you hadn’t heard it.

The L-word.

The word that nearly broke you.

No, you hadn’t heard it. He had never said it. It was just a slip-up. A simple mistake. Nothing to get hot and bothered about.

When he realized you didn’t react, he slowly calmed down again and tightened his grip on your hips. His own movements became more and more desperate, until he was pounding into you from underneath.

“Fuck, yes. Cum for me, my babygirl. Cum for me, my darling. Take every drop of my cum.”

His words were enough to drive you over the edge. With a sharp inhale, a breathless moan, you felt your own orgasm hit you again. And he went over the edge right with you.

Your lips just an inch apart and your eyes fixed on each other.

Deep.

And raw.

“Yes.” He growled. “Oh God, yes. Fuck, yes. My girl. My girl, my...” His voice cracked and he came with a roar. He pushed his hips against you with a fervor that nearly left you bruised from the inside and it made your release drag on and on, until you felt you were about to take off to the sky.

It took you a few seconds, but when you both finally came back down from your high, you realized you were still staring into each other’s eyes. You mouth slightly agape and gasping for air, your brows furrowed and your bodies still connected in the most intimate way. You didn’t want him to withdraw yet. You wanted to feel his release run along your thighs. You wanted to feel dirty like that and at the same time you wanted something else entirely.

Stay close.

Stay together.

My love.

The word kept echoing through your mind like a poem, like a curse.

Like a death warrant.

My love.

He buried his hand in your hair and gently tugged on it.

“That…was…”

You had never seen him speechless before. The sight stirred so much in you.

You idiot girl. He hurt you, he hurt you so terribly and all you wanted right now was him beside you, at all times, maybe with a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly.

God, you were just as insane as he was. Probably even more so.

He was a psychopath. What was your excuse?

You tried to distract yourself from your thoughts and so you decided to take control a last time. Your head dipped forward and you kissed him. With a tenderness that made your heart ache. And he responded. With a softness that left you breathless.

My love.

Half an hour later, you finally managed to get your hands off of each other. After you finished your bathroom routine, he invited you to the shower with him. You’d join him in a minute, you decided, while you were on your way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Your mouth felt dry, your whole body did actually.

You felt sore as hell, but God. God.

The memory of it made you smile. You had never felt more loved in your life. Never felt more special, more desired, more…

A sound made you snap out of your thoughts and you looked up from the ground. What you saw made your heart stop.

The door.

The fucking door.

You mind went blank and your heart stopped beating.

The fucking door was open.

You swallowed thickly. Was it a test? Probably. Did you consider leaving?

You took a deep breath and slowly stepped into the hallway. The front door was open and there was that visitor’s terrace with a glass door attached to it, which led to the great staircase of the apartment complex.

It was a test. Or something equally cruel.

But what if it wasn’t?

What if he truly made a mistake? He was only human after all.

You stared at the glass door like you would have stared at an alien.

This was probably your only ever chance. To flee. Escape.

Get back to…

To what?

To normality, you told yourself.

To safety.

A lump formed in your throat. Did you want that? Did you even want to leave?

Even if it wasn’t a test, did you truly want to leave him?

The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth. It almost felt like acid and it weighed like a heavy stone on your heart. The thought of sleeping alone again, of never seeing his silly smile again. Even the twisted one, you’d miss.

The thought of never feeling his lips on yours again.

His hands in your hair, his voice in your ear.

His everything.

Him.

You were his girl.

You couldn’t just up and leave. What was there in the world for you?

Maybe this was exactly your destiny. Him. Him. Him.

He was all you needed, right? He took care of you. He provided for you.

He loved you. In his own, twisted way.

My love.

You couldn’t, you decided. You couldn’t leave. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t ever-

The sound of someone’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, but to your horror, it wasn’t him. Your eyes widened impossibly when you saw the form of a man approaching.

He looked like a janitor or something like that. A man far past his prime with greying hair and a kind smile.

God, you had missed kindness.

But no, no, you were his girl. You were his girl. You wouldn’t ever leave.

You took a step back like a cornered animal as the man approached and said something to you in Korean. When you backed away even more, he stopped and his eyes widened in surprise.

He kept talking to you, kept speaking in that reassuring tone of voice.

“I…don’t…understand.” You breathed out.

You didn’t even realize how you must have looked, terrified and broken. A faint mark on your cheek. Your clothes crumpled. Bite marks, love bites, more marks on your throat.

He frowned slightly and tilted his head to the side.

“Miss-“ He said in a thick, Korean accent. “Miss- The man that’s live here- The man- Is he-“

In that moment, you felt it. His presence was so prominent, you didn’t need to hear him call out to you. You just felt it. He came in, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair wet from the shower. He most likely came to look why you hadn’t come yet.

You quickly spun around and met his gaze, your expression horrified. Your eyes were so expressive.

The door was open. He came by himself. It wasn’t my fault. Please! It wasn’t my fault!

Something hard flashed through his eyes, but it was only visible to you and it was only there for the blink of an eye. And then it was gone and it got replaced by the tight smile.

A tight, polite smile, directed at the janitor in the doorway. He spoke to him in Korean and stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You stared at the ground, completely horrified.

Oh no, you thought.

Oh no. This is it.

_____________________________

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@hayakamis-blog Thank you for your lovely request, I loved the idea and I hope it turned out the way you hoped!

Author's note: I'll be honest with you, guys, this chapter cost me YEARS of my life, omg. I wrote 5000 words yesterday and then realized I didn't like what I was writing, so I deleted everything and did this today instead. I hope it was the right decision! On a super exhausted note, I'll try to answer all of your sweet, lovely messages in time!!! I'm not even exaggerating, a few of them really made me cry. Not almost, but for real. I don't know what I did to deserve all this kindness and love, but I really, really love you all! SO much!

[steddiealltheway]

It had started out as a joke.

Okay, well Steve is pretty sure it started out as a joke to alleviate some of the anxiety before facing Vecna.

It was an innocent joke, too. Or somewhat innocent considering it was made right before they were just going to kill Vecna and maybe die in the process.

Eddie had said, "Hey, Steve?" And when he turned around, Eddie asked with a teasing smile, "A kiss for good luck?"

And Steve, in front of Robin, Nancy, and Dustin with an axe on his back, had just shrugged and walked up to him, planting a kiss right on his lips and lingering for a few seconds before pulling away. He whispered, "Good luck." Ignoring Dustin's whispered what the fuck.

"Make him pay," Eddie had kind of mumbled out in shock, and Steve just nodded, turning back to find Robin's jaw dropped. He just gave her a look that said What? It could be the end of the world. Sue me.

She had just raised her hands in defense while Nancy tried to hide a wide smile.

Later when Steve found Eddie's lifeless body in Dustin's arms, he didn't hesitate to press his lips against his again, trying to breathe life into him. When Dustin shouted something about feeling a pulse, Steve lifted Eddie up like he weighed nothing, and marched him to the gate, determined to save him.

After he was placed in a hospital bed next to Eddie, he was chastised a bit for working through the adrenaline and straining his own wounds while carrying Eddie. But Steve didn't care that it meant it would take a few more weeks for him to completely recover because Eddie was alive. And that's all that really mattered.

The first time Eddie went to physical therapy, Steve smiled at him and asked, "A kiss for good luck?"

Eddie laughed but reached out for Steve who bent over and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. It felt different this time. Less like the world was ending and more like a promise that everything would be okay.

Even after Steve was discharged from the hospital, he would come back for Eddie's physical therapy, offering a kiss for good luck before waiting for him to come back and tell him about the progress he was making.

But as his physical therapy sessions decrease as he gets used to his scars and new limitations, Steve finds himself still lingering around him.

He thinks Eddie notices. With the way he lingers around Steve as well, sneaking glances at him every so often, eyes dipping down to Steve's lips more often as he talks, he's sure Eddie knows what's on his mind.

So, it's really not a surprise when one day Steve, Robin, and Eddie are hanging out and Robin backs up with a piece of popcorn in her hand, she says, "Go long," to Steve, and Eddie asks, "A kiss for good luck?"

Steve doesn't hesitate to give him a quick peck before turning back to Robin and gesturing for her to toss him the piece. She frowns momentarily before tossing it.

Steve is almost upset when it lands in his mouth because it means no more chances of a good luck kiss.

But Eddie just smiles and says, "Maybe our kisses really do bring good luck."

Steve can't help but laugh a bit and nudge his shoulder as he grabs a piece of popcorn out of the bucket and leans back to toss it in Eddie's mouth.

Eddie leans forward this time, and Steve kisses him sweetly before pulling back and asking, "Ready?"

Eddie nods and opens his mouth, catching the popcorn easily.

Steve thinks that maybe their kisses really do bring good luck.

When Steve turns to Robin with another kernel, she jokes, "As long as you don't kiss me." But there's something in her tone that lets Steve know that they're talking about this later.

And soon, Eddie is leaving, and Steve can't help but kiss him again saying it's just good luck for the drive back to his new trailer. And of course, it's dark out, so maybe Steve puts a little more into this kiss than usual before they're both pulling away, breathing heavily into the small shared space between them. Eddie says, "Good luck here," before kissing Steve again and turning quickly to leave.

Steve lingers for a moment in the doorway, making sure Eddie drives off safely before closing the door.

"What the hell was that?"

"Jesus, Robin, how long have you been standing there?"

Robin crosses her arms. "I literally hugged him goodbye right before you two decided to make out in front of me. And since when has that been happening, dingus?" The hurt in her tone is loud and clear.

Steve leans back against the door with a sigh. "We've been doing the good luck kiss before all his physical therapy sessions. It's not a big deal though. It's just good luck. And tonight was the first time we've kissed for something other than physical therapy."

Robin's eyebrows furrow. "Steve, at one point he had PT three days a week. And how many sessions did you miss?"

"None," Steve confesses quietly.

"Oh my gosh," Robin says and walks to the living room.

"It's not like that!" Steve argues, following her.

Robin turns around and says, "Yes, it's not like you two have kissed multiple times for the past few weeks just for 'good luck' and nothing else."

Steve sighs and crosses his arms. "It's exactly like that." He pauses and looks away. "Okay, maybe I'm a little kiss-starved, but it doesn't mean anything!"

Robin worries her bottom lip as she stares at Steve looking conflicted. "Have you ever thought that maybe it might mean more to Eddie?"

Steve freezes before shaking his head. "It doesn't."

"Steve-"

"It's just not like that between us, okay?"

Robin stares at him for a few more seconds and quietly says, "You know that it's okay if it is, right?"

Steve nods, not really taking the words to heart. He doesn't feel that way about Eddie. Sure, he likes kissing him and seeing the way he lights up right before they kiss and the way he lingers after but...

It's just not like that.

Steve sighs and looks down. "I'll let you know if anything changes though, okay?"

"Okay," Robin says, sounding a little more satisfied with his answer. "Now you have to help me with my romance problems."

Steve sits back as he listens to Robin rant, trying to ignore the way she still associates him and Eddie with something romantic. And really the kisses are... they're just for good luck... Right?

-:-:-:-:-:-

Steve thinks that maybe the kisses are less for good luck the next week after he starts hanging out more and more with Eddie. They've started asking, "A kiss for good luck?" for just about everything - Eddie getting up to get him and Steve two Cokes, Steve grabbing a blanket for them to share, every time they say goodbye, when one of them shifts on the couch or bed to get more comfortable. Anything really.

But now the good luck kisses are no longer verbally prompted. Sometimes, Eddie will look at Steve, and he'll just know he needs the good luck. Or sometimes Steve will look at Eddie, feeling a random need for good luck.

Usually, it never goes beyond the intensity of their first goodbye-good-luck kiss. And they have a mutual silent agreement to have no good luck kisses in front of the kids. Robin is fine - although that comes with a question about his feelings and whatnot which Steve actively likes to avoid.

It's not like he's in denial about the fact he enjoys kissing Eddie. He's just very much in denial about how much he likes kissing Eddie, and he would like to keep it that way until Eddie finds someone else or ends this... whatever they have.

Unfortunately for him, he's forced to think about it when he gets a little too careless during a movie night with The Party.

Everything was going fine really. Steve had even managed to slip three good luck kisses to Eddie when the kids were away from them. And really, they both needed it because dealing with the kids was sometimes hell.

But Steve really had no excuse when he sat down next to Eddie and openly kissed him in front of all the kids. He only realized his mistake when he pulled back and noticed Eddie staring at him with wide eyes.

"Uh, what was that?" Max asks, looking somewhat delighted at the new development.

Steve quickly explains, "It was a good luck kiss."

"See! I told you guys I wasn't lying!" Dustin shouts excitedly at everyone.

Steve and Eddie turn to give him an unimpressed look at the same time.

Dustin holds his hands up as his voice gets a little higher. "What? They didn't believe me when I told them about it before."

"Okay, now we believe you, but what was this good luck kiss even for?" Will asks.

Eddie shifts next to Steve uncomfortably, but Steve easily answers, "Good luck with dealing with you guys. Plus, I needed good luck getting comfortable."

"Good luck getting comfortable?" Lucas clarifies slowly, not even trying to hide his smile.

"Yes," Steve says exasperatedly. "Now can we watch this movie?"

"Are you two dating?" El asks.

Steve tenses up and glances at Eddie.

"No," Mike says, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Friends kiss each other all the time for good luck."

Will shoots him a look. "When we were just friends, didn't you literally ask me for a good luck-"

"Hey," Mike says with wide eyes as he turns red. "Not helping."

"We're not dating," Eddie states and starts the movie, "But we are watching this movie."

Steve feels his heart sink at the confirmation. Why the hell is he so upset about Eddie telling the truth? Because that's exactly what it is. The truth. They're not dating so Steve isn't allowed to get upset.

For the rest of the movie, Steve tries to get into the plot, but he can't when Eddie is sitting right next to him, reminding him of what he said.

When the movie ends, Steve immediately gets up and starts cleaning up the mess left by the kids and hurries off to the kitchen to work on the mess in there too. He needs to call Robin.

He scrubs at the countertops and half-heartedly waves at the kids when they yell their goodbyes and rush out the door. He gets stuck at one spot on the counter that won't give and scrubs at it harshly until a hand rests over his.

"Hey," Eddie says softly. "You okay?"

Steve slowly turns to face him and lies, "Yeah. I'm fine."

Eddie's eyes lower to his lips momentarily, but he doesn't lean in. "Are you sure?"

Steve nods in response and turns back to the counter.

"Um, good luck with this."

"I'm going to need it," Steve says, leaning in to stare at whatever is stuck on the counter. He pauses when he realizes what Eddie just said and turns around. "Good luck with the kids."

"I'm definitely going to need it," Eddie says dramatically huffing.

"I could take half of them, you know."

Eddie shrugs and moves closer to him. "Or you could do something else for me."

"Yeah?" Steve asks with a smile, "And what's that?"

"Give me some extra good luck."

Steve snorts as Eddie smiles brightly at him. But he wraps his arms around his shoulders and says, "Extra good luck coming right up."

And this kiss... it feels... different.

It starts out sweet and slow like usual, just a soft press of their lips together before they readjust to get a better angle. But Steve remembers the extra Eddie requested and runs a hand through Eddie's hair, pressing in closer. Eddie's hands wrap around his waist as he turns and presses his back against the counter.

Steve breaks the kiss with a gasp, needing more air and filled with slight shock as all his feelings for Eddie suddenly rise to the surface. He pulls back to look at Eddie for a second, taking in his blown pupils and pink cheeks as he whispers, "Jesus H. Christ."

Steve doesn't waste a second before he kisses Eddie again, immediately deepening the kiss but cradling Eddie's face in his hands, trying to offset the desperation of the kiss with the gentleness of the touch. He wants to let him know we have more time now. Unlike their first kiss, and unlike any of the other ones that Steve couldn't suck it up and admit were real, this is the start of something new. Something-

A loud car horn goes off outside causing Steve and Eddie to break apart, but they linger in each other's arms, both staring, knowing they have more to say but not the time in this moment.

"I have to go," Eddie whispers.

Steve nods, but neither of them moves.

The horn goes off again, and Steve reluctantly moves away, grabbing Eddie's hand to drag him to the front door. He waits a second and says, "Eddie..."

"I know," Eddie says and leans in to kiss him gently. "I'll be back, okay? As soon as I drop the little demons off."

The car horn goes off multiple times in an obnoxious rhythm that Steve guesses is Dustin's own creation. He kisses Eddie on the forehead and opens the door. "Good luck."

"God, I'm going to need it."

Steve watches as Eddie jogs to the van yelling, "I'm coming! I'm coming! It's not like you guys are near your curfew so zip it!"

Steve smiles as the van takes off and Eddie blows him a dramatic kiss.

As soon as they're out of sight, Steve races to the phone and calls Robin.

"Robin speaking," she answers, sounding as if she wants nothing to do with the call.

"Hey," Steve sighs with relief.

"Thank god. I thought you were going to be some telemarketer or something. What's going on?"

"I have feelings for Eddie," Steve confesses immediately.

There's a rustling sound and Robin sighs, "You finally realized it."

"Shut up."

"You know I'm right."

It's true, but Steve isn't going to admit it.

"So, what made you realize?" Robin asks.

Steve leans back against the counter. "He told the kids we weren't dating which I couldn't let go because it hurt so damn much. Then, I kind of figured out when I basically stuck my tongue down his throat."

"Gross. You know I hate that phrase," Robin complains.

"And that's why I say it," Steve says with a smile that slowly turns into a softer one as he thinks about Eddie. "I think I'm going to ask him out."

"I wonder if he'll say yes," Robin jokes. At least, Steve hopes she's joking.

"That's a joke, right?"

"Yes, dingus. I'm pretty sure you guys have been sort of dating in the form of excuses this whole time."

"Don't make fun of us."

Robin snorts. "I'm not, I'm just stating the facts."

Steve sighs, trying not to give away again that she's right.

"I'm happy for you guys," Robin says with an obvious smile that Steve can hear. "And thank you."

"For?"

"Realizing it before I had to knock some sense into you."

Steve rolls his eyes affectionately, knowing she can probably tell even over the phone.

"And for telling me. Which hey, how are you feeling about it?"

Steve shrugs. "I mean, I'm scared, you know? None of my relationships work out, and I need this one to be different."

"I think it will be, but I was more asking about how you're dealing with the knowledge that you like guys."

Steve huffs, "Yeah, I'm not dumb. I knew I was attracted to Eddie, I just didn't want to get emotions involved. I thought you knew this."

"Hello, I'm the same person who couldn't tell that Vickie was into girls as well."

"That's true," he shifts the phone to his other ear and says, "God, I can't believe we're having this conversation over the phone."

"I prefer it to the dirty Starcourt bathroom floors."

"I don't," Steve says with a fond smile.

"Eliminate all the trauma before that moment, and yeah, maybe I do prefer it. Even on the floor."

"I can drag you into the Family Video bathr-"

"Not a chance, dingus," Robin says immediately.

Steve laughs and pauses before saying, "Thanks for letting me take my time to figure it out. Sorry that I was kind of an asshole before."

"You're always kind of an asshole. It's part of the charm."

Steve smiles and says, "Well, then I'm going to be an asshole and tell you I have to hang up, so I can prepare for this life-altering moment."

"Gosh, you two are both so dramatic. You're absolutely perfect for each other."

“Goodbye, Robin,” Steve sighs.

“I would wish you good luck, but I’m not there to kiss you!”

Steve groans as Robin laughs. “I’m hanging up.” He does just that after he hears Robin shriek with more laughter.

She’s never going to let him live this down. (Not that he minds really.)

When Eddie comes back later, the first thing Steve says is, “I need a major good luck kiss.”

“For what?” Eddie asks with a small smile.

“So this really amazing guy will say yes when I ask him out.”

Eddie smiles and wraps his arms around his waist. “You think I’m amazing?”

“So presumptuous of you, assuming I’m talking about you,” Steve jokes.

Eddie raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, yes. I’m talking about you.”

Eddie smiles and says, “Well, I don’t think you need any good luck then.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks with a smile so wide it almost hurts.

“Definitely. But I’m going to give you some extra good luck just in case.”

Steve kisses him with a smile, pulling back immediately to ask, “You’re saying yes, right?”

“I thought I said I was giving you extra good luck first.”

“Eddie.”

“Yes,” Eddie replies and frowns. “But now what am I giving you extra good luck for?”

“Us? Or maybe we could just call it making out.”

Eddie makes a face and sticks his tongue out. “Bleh, no. No making out in this relationship. Just extra good luck giving.”

Steve laughs and leans in. Giving his boyfriend as much good luck as he can.

[rustyironskillet]

Day 12: Time Travel

“Sooooo Phantom, do ya have any siblings?” Kid Flash asked as he tried to make small talk with the newest recruit to the team.

A few days ago, Young Justice was called to a meeting by Batman where he introduced their new team mate, Phantom. Phantom was a tough looking dude, he was jacked and towered over them all, even Conner!

Batman didn’t give them much information about the guy but apparently John Constentine was the one who suggested him for the team since he needed “community service hours”.

The dude was currently drinking some soda next to the computer as Red Robin searched for any new info on their latest mission. He turned his attention away from the can, and stared at Wally, his red eyes piercing into his soul.

“Why?” 

“Well we are all about to go on a mission together and none of us really know you so I think it’d be best if we all got to know you better,” that was half true. Mostly Wally was just being nosey, but the dude really did make everyone nervous since he was this really tough dude with blood red eyes and apparently was here because John Constentine said he needed community service hours???? Constentine typically say some wild shit, but what the fuck do you mean by community service? Wally knows you can’t use those for school, he’s tried, and what else gave you community service? Juvie and prison!!

Phantom stared at him hard for a few seconds, his eyes searing into the back of Wally’s skull before saying, “Okay fine”.

The answer surprised everyone in the room, I mean the guy had barely even spoken the last few days and had rejected every question about his personal life.

“Depending on how you see it, I have 2 to 4 siblings”

“Is your father a serial adopter too?” Tim joked.

“Yes and no”

“Huh?” 

“It’s pretty complicated,” Phantom shrugged, seemingly deciding to end the conversation there and taking another swig of his drink.

However, Tim, out of annoyances of every attempt to get to know this jerk being thwarted and a bit of confidence his family was more complicated, decided to challenge Phantom’s statement.

“Ehh, it probably isn’t as complicated as my family, we got about 50 more siblings adopted each month, all with lots much trauma”

At this, Phantom narrowed his eyes at Tim.

“I see what your doing, your trying to get me to talk tell you guy more about my family by acting like yours are more insane”

“Am I?” Tim asked, trying to hide the shivers going down his spine from the way Phantom was staring at him.

Phantom to a huge swig of his soda, emptying it and throwing it into the garbage, before fully turning to Tim.  

“You’re lucky I am always good for competitions, now sit down this is going to take a bit”

Tim gladly obliged and soon everyone sat around Phantom as if it were storytime in kindergarten.

“Okay, so at first I only had an older sister and my parents” Phantom began, “but then they died because of a mistake I made and I had to move in with my evil godfather”

Megan raised her hand and asked, “Isn’t a godfather someone who is very close to the family? Why would your parents choose an evil person?”

“‘Cause my dad was oblivious to this and though they were good friends even though the dudes tried to kill him multiple times”

“I see,” Megan lowered her hand, no less confused.

“There I went mad with grief and had him remove my humanity and tried to kill all of humanity”

“I think that was a bit of an overreaction,” Wally joked.

“You tried to kill all of humanity? Why weren’t we told of this when it happened?” Kaldur'ahm asked.

“That was in a different timeline, I was a big enough problem that they gods tried to kill the younger version of me to stop me, so to avoid dying, my younger version decide to try to defeat me and the only reason he did was cause I was underestimating him,” Phantom emphasized the last part because he had to stress he didn’t not lose to a 15 year old boy because he was weaker than him.

“What happened next?,” Artemis asked, completely inraptured in the story.

“I was then imprisoned for sometime before escaping, causing problems and then realizing that causing younger mean the same pain I experienced won't bring my loved ones back,” Phantom continued to explain, “so I am now going to therapy, doing community service, and got the majority of my powers taken away”.

“Is your therapist open to seeing new patients?” Konner asked.

“No, but this timelines version of my sister is and she has a lot of experience so I can give you her number instead”

“Sure, that’ll work”

“Okay,” Phantom said before writing her number down and handing it to Konner, “The thing is I can’t go back to living with my real parents because they don’t know that I am Phantom so I have to go back to living this timelines version of my godfather”

“You gotta be kidding me” Tim groans.

“Exactly what I said!!” Phantom put his arm up defensively, “Fortunately, this version is a little better, he is no longer tiring to kill my dad and has stopped chasing after my mom, he did clone the other of me and now there is a genderbent version of him but my godfather treats her like a princess and will not stop spoiling her, which I am also guilty of”

Phantoms continues to explain more and in the back of Tim's mind he remembers he was supposed to be doing something but honestly this conversation was too good to care.

“Anyways that's how I technically have 2 to 4 siblings, Jazz and Elle are permanently my sisters and I love them so much, and even though the other Jazz is technically the same as this Jazz, I still think of her as someone else, someone I miss dearly. Also if I considered this Jazz my sister, I guess I’d have to considered the other me as my brother”

“Damn bitch your family is crazy” Wally said, happy he finally managed to get through Phantom’s tough skin.

As they finished up their storytime, the Zeta-tubes activated and Red Tornado and an upset looking Batman walked to the group.

“You all were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago”

[midnite-c6]

more pink guard!namgyu and thanos au thoughts :P

pink guard!namgyu and thanos who brings timid!reader back into the games after mingle happened, the survived players see you sitting on your bed with eating food that’s completely different to what they have to eat.

pink guard!namgyu and thanos that actually brought your bed closer to the door so all they can keep a better eye on you…

hehe YAY this request rlly made my mindblow cuz like WHY HAVENT I THOUGHT OF THAT KIND OF AU, SO COOL ANON!!

pink guard!thanos & pink guard!namgyu x virgin!reader imagine pt. 2💘

warnings: 18+, dark content, dubcon, gunplay (read at ur own risk!!)

after the last game, that you skipped (because of your two new friends!), they already sent you back to the original dorms of the players. you'd walk back inside, slightly limping as your legs shake... the other players couldn't care less though, infact, they're pretty bummed you're still alive, just means less money.

the two guards really found a favourite amongst the 456 players! they'd assign you a better place to sleep, they'd also give you much more delicious food, and whenever other players try to bother you about it, it's okay! they'll just unfairly kill them in the next round <3. despite being ranked as triangle guards, they're hella irresponsible, but atleast they found their purpose in these games, and that's... you! ❤️‍🩹

just right after lunch, after eating the delicious food they especially made for you, you've been escorted to go to another unfamiliar room, something kind of like a basement..

they'd already take off their masks, the purple-haired one starts to already show his excitement, the black-haired one was arranging the place, trying to make it more cozy despite how it's very far from that. "baby!! i missed you, nam-gyu made that special steak lunch just for you, did you like it, babe?" he'd look at you with puppy eyes, eyes that a lover would make, "uhm.. it was really good! but the players were really angry at me..." he pouted in response. "what?!" "they said it was really unfair. i'm the only who got to eat that type of meal.." his brows furrow, clearly annoyed. "buncha' whining bitches, can't they expect a princess like you deserves to eat deliciously?" "uhm.." these guards were surely good with their words..

"well, don't think about them anymore, baby. we'll make you forget." he shushes you up with his gloved finger, before smacking his lips against yours. fine, he was a good kisser, you admit.

nsfw below!!-> 🫶🏻

honestly, they were taking their time with you, taking turns to sloppily kiss you in the lips whilst grinding their suits against your core and fingering you without any release. it was a hassel to take the pink suit off, clearly. "dude, i've cooked her the steak, i should get to fuck her first!" "uhm.. who said that? i was the one who thought of it." you'd watch both of them argue over you as you lean back against the wall, your clothes stripped infront of you. your body was shivering from the cold un-tiled floor. "you tryna' piss me off, bro?" "nah nah, let's play fair then. rock paper scissors?" nam-gyu groaned, but he'd extend his hand to play a game, best to three. after a few rounds, the black-haired one was the winner, he'd cheer. "yes!! knew the world was fair. sucks to suck, bro." "whadda' fuck! you got to eat her out last timeeee..!" the purple-haired one complained. "just your fault you didn't." he smiled proudly as he started to unbuckle his pants, walking over to you. the other guard went to focus on getting a cross necklace underneath his shirt, popping a pill in his mouth.

you'd look up at the guard closer to you, quite worried in your eyes. "what? don't want to?" nam-gyu raises a brow. you don't answer, but you were definitely hesitant. "i've never.. uhm.. with an actual..." he immediately bursted into laughter. "seriously? you're a virgin? no wonder you were so tight. couldn't even stretch you with my fingers n' all." you lower your gaze to the floor, his eyes were judging you from above.. "a face of a slut, yet an attitude like an angel, i like that." he'd put on his pants again, though he was dissapointed. "don't worry.. i'll prepare you," you wonder if he'd just finger you again, but... he'd slowly take the gun from his pocket, lowering himself to place the barrel of the gun on your clit. you'd jolt from the hard texture, or how it was a literal gun against your cunt. "if ya' can handle this, you can handle me, okay?"

you'd whimper, how were you supposed to fit that? "u-uhm.." "don't be nervous.. hey dude, hold her down will you?" he'd call out for the other guard that was getting high. "why should i? i'm still salty." "i'm not gonna fuck her, she's still a virgin." the purple-haired guard immediately went to the both of you "we're the first ones to touch you?!", he places his body underneath yours so you were sitting on his lap. he'd place his hands underneath your thighs to carefully spread your legs open. "it's such an honor, cutie." the guard infront of you starts rubbing the front of the barrel against your clit repeatedly, the sensation was so weird!! but it was a good kind of weird... and to they're pleasure, you'd start letting out sweet moans, as the gun was being pressed against your sensitive bud, nam-gyu's other hand would spread your cunny open, "fuck, so wet, you'd take in this gun easily." he slowly moved the gun away from your clit... lowering it.. til' it was just right against your hole. "s-slowly- please.." nam-gyu tilts his head. "slowly?" before immediately pushing the barrel fully inside you. you'd let out a loud, shameless moan from how it slid in, or how it was quite longer than you were used to. "h-hey!?" "sorry, i'm a bit impatient." he grinned, sliding the gun in and out, a ruthless pace, even faster than how he was fingering you before.

& with the pace and all that pleasure... you get to release another high from that new experience, getting fucked by a gun, the guard underneath you was uncontrollablly smiling. "can't take it, babe? here..." he'd offer you a pill. "the next games a bit tricky, so you'd need some energy.."

"but if you're too scared to play don't worry, 'kay? just go to the bathroom during lights out and you can repay us while you're there!" every thing comes with a price, except, gladly you're the one cumming. 💘

[certaimromance]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. Love or seal?

Dean Winchester x Hunter!reader

main masterlist

Summary: An avenging spirit is killing married couples, so the Winchesters think it's a good idea to use you to pretend to be one and take down the ghost. But the act becomes all too real before you know it.

Words: 1,8k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. mentions of murder, death, violence. so much teasing. a little of angst with happy ending. dean from the early seasons but soft and chaotic (a bit simp). sam being cupid and forgotten lol. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I've always been a Dean girl and I'm so excited about this. I love the concept of "Frenemies to Lovers" with its more playful and cutie version from the earlier seasons, I hope I described it well.

This is my second time ever writing here, i'm still new.

You took another look in the mirror and walked a few laps around the dingy motel room, trying to swallow the act. It seemed ironic to wear such a fancy dress and high heels in a place like this, but it was all so you could solve the case and prevent more deaths. After all, it was your job to catch the ghosts and put them to rest.

It had been a long time since you'd been out on a date or worn anything other than your usual jeans and leather jacket. Buying yourself a cute dress and wedding rings with one of your fake cards had been entertaining, the closest thing to a normal life you'd had in years.

“Come in, I need help with the zipper on my dress.” You said after hearing a couple of knocks on your door.

You were still standing in front of the bathroom mirror, waiting for Sam to show up to help you so the two of you could leave soon for the restaurant where you both had reserved a table. The strange thing was that the cold hands you felt running down your back and zipping you up were not his, but those of his older brother.

“What are you doing here? Where is Sam?” You turned around to look at Dean once your dress was closed. It was then that you noticed he was wearing a suit and the ring.

“In the room.” He replied, moving closer to you so he could look at himself in the mirror and adjusting his tie with difficulty, he was not used to wearing one at all and felt suffocated.

“Why are you dressed like that?” You asked him after looking him over from head to toe and inevitably biting your lower lip. He looked good, all dressed up and dapper, you could even smell the scent of cologne wafting off him.

“I'll be your husband for tonight.” Dean smiled at you.

You frowned when you heard that the younger Winchester would no longer be your fake husband, because that was not what you had all agreed upon. Sam had always been more husband material, and you trusted him enough to have some physical contact if necessary. On the other hand, you saw Dean as someone who was far from the prototypical perfect partner, and you could barely talk to him without arguing about your differences, never having touched him except for sparring practice or taking away the gun he kept stealing from you. You couldn't deny that both brothers were attractive, but they were almost equally far from meaning anything romantic to you.

“We flipped a coin and I got the job.” He added to the explanation, noticing the confusion on your face.

Finally you nodded, realizing that once again they had not been able to reach an agreement and had had to put luck in the middle for the choice of roles. You didn't mind going with Dean, you had already been on several hunts with him and trusted his skills, but having to impersonate his wife was weird.

“Can you...?” He tried to ask you, pointing at his tie and all the trouble it caused him.

You let out a small laugh at seeing him so confused over a simple tie and went over to him to take it off. You had to tie it all over again because of how badly he had done it before.

“This looks very wife.” He commented as he saw the delicacy with which you were trying to fix his mess.

“I hope the spirit feels the same and is looking forward to slaughtering us.” You replied, taking a step away from him as you finished.

You two said a quick goodbye to Sam and then hopped into the Impala, which took you to a shiny restaurant near the road where the ghost appeared.

“Don't embarrass me, please.” You said to him as soon as you both sat down at the table and placed your order.

“How could I, darling?” He smiled innocently at you and took your hand on the table, caressing the ring on your finger.

You didn't say anything, just smiled back and kept your thoughts to yourself. You couldn't believe he actually called you that, sounding almost like a husband, even though you knew it was because of the acting, it gave you a funny feeling in your stomach. The most you'd gotten from Dean Winchester in all the years you'd known him was a "good job" and a strange smile, followed by a lot of questions about your careless decisions. You alone were far enough away from marriage, let alone someone like him.

“You look very handsome tonight.” You told him as you saw he was drinking water, causing him to almost spit it out in surprise.

Usually you never complimented him, barely looked him in the eye, talked about anything other than hunting, or even laughed at his jokes. It seemed that his presence didn't matter much to you because your interests were more aligned with Sam's and you got along better with him. That bothered Dean a lot, he hated being so invisible in your eyes.

Now, however, you didn't take your eyes off him and even gave him compliments that left him speechless to continue the performance.

“At least the food is good.” You said absentmindedly as the waiter brought the plates.

“And the company?”

You looked into his eyes, trying to understand if he was playing with you or if he was really hurt by your lack of emotion. The strange thing was that you didn't know if it was one or the other, his greenish gaze was a mystery.

“The best company, of course.” You gave him a smile and picked up your glass of wine to make a small toast.

“How affectionate you are now.”

“Yes, I feel almost as if today is the last day of my life.” You said with irony.

Dinner went off without a hitch in a quiet and strangely pleasant atmosphere. You couldn't help but be surprised by Dean's friendliness, it was the first time you had a civilized conversation with him. The first time he held your hand and you noticed how green his eyes were.

Suddenly, everything he said, silly or not, made you smile. The only rational thing to do was to attribute it to the glass of wine he had decided to drink. In general, you didn't allow yourself to drink alcohol, let alone in the middle of a hunt. But now, for some reason, you thought it would help your nerves and relax you a bit.

“Where did you leave the car?” You asked once they left the site and the time to travel the road of death was approaching.

“In the corner over there...I hope.” He answered without really being sure. For him, it had all happened so fast when you two arrived.

“My feet hurt. Don't play with me now.” You said, hating the high heels you were wearing.

At that moment, the hunter stopped and motioned for you to sit on the bench by the exit. Unsure, you obeyed and frowned as he knelt down to gently remove your shoes.

“Happy now?” He asked he asked, holding your heels in his hands.

“I can't walk barefoot.” You claimed, putting on a fake sad face and lowering your gaze to his arms.

Dean shook his head instantly.

“No, don't even think that I'll carry you.” He warned confidently, folding his arms.

A few minutes later, he was silently leading you to the car, snorting at every opportunity to give in so easily to your wishes.

“This looks very husband.” You pointed out with a smile and a teasing tone.

“I would offer you to the spirit right now.” He replied, looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“How lovely you are, my dear.”

The two finally got into the car and headed for the exit. Dean had received a message from his brother telling him that he had found the name of the ghost woman and her grave with her husband, who was the cause of all his resentment against happily married couples, and to top it off, he was buried on top of her.

“Sam is going to burn the grave and everything will be fine.” He said trying to comfort you as he saw the concern on your face. “Maybe the woman doesn't want to kill anyone today.”

“You have too much faith in a murderous spirit.” You sighed and tried to remove the ring from your finger, but it stuck. “And you should take the ring off.”

“Are we getting divorced so soon?” He replied in a joking tone, with his eyes on the road.

You looked at him seriously, this was no time for jokes because everything was going wrong. If Sam didn't dig up those bones soon, they were probably going to kill you both and the plan was going to fail completely. It was supposed to be easy and you were terrified that it wasn't anymore.

“Come on, don't be like that. You were laughing so hard with me.” He smiled at you.

Before you could respond, a pale woman in a blood-stained wedding dress appeared in the back seat. You could barely say Dean's name when the ghost's hand came around your neck and began to choke you. After a few moments, you couldn't even breathe and everything became a blur.

You didn't want to die, at least not at that moment. Not without having lived a life as good as the night before everything went to hell. You still had too many things to do to go like that, let alone in front of him, you couldn't let that happen.

“Don't move.” The hunter said to you before drawing his gun and disputing you to the back seat.

The ghost disappeared for a few seconds and then reappeared just ahead of the road. A braking maneuver as the woman was beginning to burn in front of the two of you almost made you jump out of your seat.

Sam had succeeded.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, looking at you with concern.

“Yeah.” You said, still trying to catch your breath and process everything that had happened.

“And my thanks for saving you and not letting death part us?”

At any other time, you would have simply made a sarcastic comment and emphasized that it was all thanks to her brother. However, the recent experience had changed something in you and made you kiss his cheek.

Before you could completely pull your face away from his, he put his hand on your cheek and pulled you close. You felt his lips move over yours and responded without hesitation. A big part of you had been thinking about this moment all night and was more than happy it was happening. It was like the perfect ending to a fake marriage date, minus the killer ghost part, and it made you smile in the middle of it.

“You didn't flip any coin, did you?” You asked as you broke away from the kiss for a second.

“No, I didn't.” He admitted, leaving a kiss on your head and making you smile even more.

[sassatoru]

Dahlia with String then Burlap plsss

What about him and the reader being lovers in highschool. After his death ,the reader went mad and stuck at the age of 15 when he was still alive. After he got back,he visits her everyday since he believed there is still a way to get his girl back 😭

COME HOME TO ME

pairing. jason todd x reader

warning. angst to fluff, character death + revival, age regression, reader in a psych ward

a/n. i really liked this prompt thank you

“hey baby,” jason whispered, his hand on the glass separating the two of you, oh how he wished he could break this down and take you home. but he knows that you wouldn’t react well to being taken.

you don’t reply, your eyes are staring forward. they’re so dull now, not like the girl he loved when he was younger, his girl.

you’re wearing one of the hoodies he left here for you. you may not recognise his face and voice but you’d never forget the way he smelt, you used to tease him for the pine smell but now it was all you had left of him.

“baby,” jason calls out again, a little louder this time. “come on, doll. look at me, it’s me. it’s jay.” jason wants to cry, he wants you back, he wants you home, his voice is pleading, there’s a lump in his throat when you finally look at him.

you shake your head at him, “you’re not my jay.”

jason feels like he’s dying again, it feels the same. he feels like he’s dying inside, the breath leaving his lungs, eyes closing and he can hear that bomb again. the maniacal laughter of the bastard that killed him, the sound of his skull cracking under the force of the crowbar.

because he’s not really your jay, is he? no, he knows he isn’t. that boy died a long time ago, but jason can be jay, because you need jay, not jason.

“yes i am, baby.” it’s me, doll.

when did baby turn to doll, he wonders. another sign that he’s changed.

“look at me, really look at me.”

and you do you look into his green eyes— green? that can’t be right, jay’s eyes were an icy blue you adored dozing off to. but there is something familiar in the way this man looks at you, like you could massacre cities and he’d still love you.

but he can’t be jay, your jay died.

you shake your head again, turning away from him to curl up on the bed — jason has to remember to say thanks to bruce for getting you somewhere that takes care of you — to hide from him.

“baby don’t go,” he whispers.

this was routine by now, everyday for the last three months he came here. to sit by the glass that separates you from him. and everyday you do the same thing, refuse to believe him.

“baby, don’t you remember me? remember that day we snuck into the theatre, in the roof and took out that part of the ceiling so we could watch? and you said—”

“—we’re like ninjas.”

a smile crosses his lips, and he laughs. your heart flutters and you peek a look at him, only to find his staring right back at you. “hi baby.”

“jay,” you mumble, he nods.

“that’s right, doll. it’s jay.”

“doll?” you ask.

he shrugs, “maybe it’s time for something new.”

“i like it,” you say.

it takes weeks before you’re discharged. the doctors don’t believe the sudden change in you, the hallucinations suddenly gone, you’re not seeing a teenage lover, you don’t believe you’re 15 anymore.

they run their test but nothing wrong comes back. jason takes you home at the end of it all.

it’s different, the way he walks, or talk, the way he stands. so different yet so familiar. he’s bigger, not the scrawny boy you knew, his size triples yours.

he laughs when you mention it to him.

he keeps his distance, trying to keep you comfortable but you want him closer. you want him to hold you, more than anything you want to curl up next to him, letting some corny horror movie you play in the background, you’d jump despite knowing the jump scares are coming, and he’d tease you, promise to keep the monsters away. before he screamed himself, and you laughed, fingers running through his hair.

his hair was different too, still black but he had that white streak in it. you told him you liked it, he gave up on trying to dye it.

he stays with you at night, holding your hand when you wake up from the nightmares of losing him.

it takes months before he holds you, causally like he used to. hands dragging along your hips when he walks past you. he coddles you months later despite your insistence that you can take care of yourself.

you don’t get over the years of your life you lost, but you both have that in common. your life started and ended together. now you get another chance to start again.

jason won’t leave you again. jay won’t let you hurt again.

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[traflawgar]

Hello!! Could I please request zoro head cannons. This is a fluff prompt. Basically after the straw hats liberate yet another country and have their celebration on the sunny, zoro snatches the reader and throws them over one shoulder while he has a barrel of booze on the other. Someone asks him “aren’t you going to eat” and he says something like “I got what I need” before going to the crows nest with his partner. I wonder how zoro would show his affection when liquored up and away from nosy eyes (sanji probably sets some food aside because it would be a cold day in hell before his crewmates go hungry)

alone with you

zoro x reader. FLUFF.

TAGS: alcohol, of course. zoro likes to pretend he's a tough bitch but he loves cuddles and kisses.

divider by @/uzmacchiato.

NOTES--I love zoro. I see him as the kind of dude to pretend he's super stoic in front of others, but once he's alone with his partner will be quite cuddly. for this request I went more on the properly headcanons direction, hope you like the result!

Zoro has been staring at you since everyone reunited at the ship. Sitting across from you, taking gulp after gulp of his sake, he’s not letting you ignore him. No matter how hard you try. You can’t even meet his gaze, afraid that the simmering fire in his eyes will reflect your own need to be alone with him.

And then everyone would find out that there’s something more going on between the two of you.

He does not have the same concern. That much becomes evident when he abruptly stands up and strides toward you. He ignores the crew’s complaints as he moves anything and anyone out of his way. Complaints that fall silent as confused and shocked eyes—and one pair of knowing ones—watch him carelessly pick you up and throw him over his shoulders.

Stunned silence hangs in the air, before wolf whistles and laughter break it unceremoniously. Your friends are not deterred by the groan you let out, nor by the murderous glare you throw their way. 

“Wait, dinner’s almost ready!” Sanji yells as he steps onto the deck, lured out of the kitchen by the chaos unfolding.

“Don’t care. Got everything I need here.” As if to emphasize his words, Zoro shifts the weight of the barrel he’s holding in one arm, and pats your ass with his free hand.

You think you hear Sanji complain and threaten to let you starve later, but that’s quickly pushed out of your mind as Zoro begins climbing up towards the crow’s nest. He’s completely oblivious to how dangerous it is, while all you can think about is the very precarious position you’re in.

A few torturous moments later, he sets you down on the floor and you finally open your eyes. “Finally we’re a–” he starts, but is quickly interrupted by your fists on his chest as you accuse him of nearly killing you.

Usually, Zoro would let you carry on with your antics and tease you once you get bored of them. Tonight, however, he’s feeling quite impatient. He’s been waiting for ages (a few minutes) to be alone with you while everyone else hogged your attention (spent time with you in a group setting). He was hoping to sneak away after dinner when everybody was too full of food and alcohol to notice—and he usually would’ve done just that. You know that, know tonight feels different for some reason, so you don’t really complain when he shuts you up with a kiss, hands holding your wrists to stop you.

You let him pull you to his favourite spot in the crow’s nest, follow suit as he plops down on the floor. He’s a lot more affectionate when he’s drunk, not holding himself back from what he actually wants.

His head is immediately on your shoulder, and whenever he’s not filling his cup with the barrel he brought, he’s nuzzling against you and muttering how warm you are. Every other minute he’ll look up at you with puppy eyes and –ask for– demand a kiss.

“I want a kiss,” he’ll mutter with a pout (which he later denies was a pout), and you think it’s the cutest thing to ever happen to you.

Eventually he gets you to sit between his legs, your back pressed snuggly against his chest. He wraps his arms around your body and pulls you impossibly closer. He all but wraps himself entirely around you, pressing lazy kisses on your back. His fingers trace shapes on your thighs, random things at first, but then you think he might be spelling something—he’s spelling “I love you” because no amount of booze can get him to say it out loud yet. So, for now, he’ll settle for spelling it on your skin and trusting you understand it.

You’ll stay like that until your stomach growls embarrassingly loud.

“Let’s see if the shitty cook made good on his threat.”

He did not, to nobody’s surprise. Regardless of how many times he threatens to do so, Sanji never lets you go hungry.

When the two of you get to the kitchen, there’s food waiting for you. You take the plates and sit on the deck, traces of the crew’s celebration all over the floor. You sit and look at the stars, and Zoro surprises you with an incredible amount of knowledge on stars and constellations.

(He read books about it just so he could tell you all these interesting facts about the night sky because he likes seeing the impressed look in your eyes whenever he does something cool.)

After eating, he’ll suggest going back to the crow’s nest just so you can keep cuddling and maybe, if all goes according to his plan, you’ll fall asleep like that—holding each other close, with your head on his chest and your legs intertwined.