#but i need to get it at the beginning. and i am at. the beginning
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Not So Bad After All | CL16
NEFERASKINGDOM
Summary: Valentine’s Day sucks, the bathroom line is too long, and Charles just wants to go home. Until a ridiculous scheme, a fake proposal, and the best tiramisu of his life change everything.
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Charles Leclerc did not want to be here.
Valentine’s Day was already insufferable, but being dragged to a bar by his well-meaning (and currently very drunk) friends was making it so much worse. His brothers were off on their respective romantic dates, and instead of sulking in peace at home, he was here—stuck in a crowded bar, dodging heart-shaped balloons and being subjected to overly loud love songs blaring from the speakers.
And now, to top it all off, he was standing in an absurdly long line for the bathroom.
“Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as the line refused to move.
“Tell me about it,” a voice said beside him.
Charles turned his head to find a woman standing next to him, arms crossed, scowling at the line ahead. She looked equally unimpressed with the night’s events.
He raised an eyebrow. “Bad night?”
She huffed, tilting her head towards the couple making out aggressively in the corner. “I’ve seen horror movies less disturbing than that.”
Charles snorted, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Agreed.”
They lapsed into silence, both staring ahead at the unmoving line. A few seconds passed before she spoke again. “You don’t look like you’re having fun.”
He exhaled, rubbing his face. “That’s because I’m not.”
She smirked. “Then why are you here?”
Charles sighed, hands in his pockets. “My friends thought I needed ‘cheering up’ because my brothers are both in relationships, and I am not.”
She nodded sympathetically. “Same. Except my best friend didn’t even try to lie about it. She just said, ‘You’re too single, and it’s embarrassing.’” She gestured toward the girl still making out in the corner. “That would be her.”
Charles winced. “Brutal.”
“Right? I told her I’d rather stay home and watch a move or something.”
Charles let out a laugh, genuinely amused. “I think I’d prefer that too.”
As the line inched forward at a snail’s pace, their conversation flowed effortlessly.
"Okay, explain this to me," she said, turning to face him fully. "Why do people think giving someone overpriced flowers that will die in three days is romantic?"
Charles chuckled. "Right? And the price! it's like they double it just because it’s February 14th."
She scoffed. "Exactly! And don't even get me started on the chocolates. You know they just put the same candy in a heart-shaped box and charge extra."
"The worst part is the expectation," Charles added, shaking his head. "Like, if you don’t do something extravagant, suddenly you don’t love your partner enough?"
She snapped her fingers. "Yes! If you need a specific day to prove your love, maybe your relationship isn’t as strong as you think."
Charles smirked. "So, not a fan of grand gestures, then?"
"Oh, I love grand gestures," she admitted, tilting her head. "Just not ones dictated by capitalism."
“So let me get this straight,” she said after a particularly heated rant about heart-shaped balloons. “You got dragged here against your will, your friends abandoned you, and now you’re standing in line for the bathroom ranting at a stranger?”
Charles groaned. “I am beginning to think I have been tricked.”
She shook her head in mock pity. “Tragic.”
He opened his mouth to respond when, to his horror, his stomach let out a loud growl.
She turned to him, grinning. “Oh my god.”
“…I’m hungry,” he admitted, rubbing his neck sheepishly.
She laughed. “You know what? Let’s get out of here. I know a place.”
The place she led him to was a semi-formal restaurant with dim lighting, cozy booths, and the most incredible menu Charles had ever seen. By the time their food arrived, they were already deep into conversation, swapping stories about their worst dates, cringiest romantic gestures, and Valentine’s Day traumas.
Charles took a bite of the cheesecake and immediately let out a sound that could only be described as obscene. “Mon dieu. This is the best thing I have ever eaten.”
His companion grinned. “Oh, you think that’s good? There’s something even better.”
He looked up, intrigued. “Impossible.”
She leaned forward conspiratorially. “They used to sell the most heavenly tiramisu. It was legendary. But they discontinued it.”
Charles frowned. “Then how do you know it’s better?”
She smirked. "Because I’ve had it before and fun fact it’s on the secret menu now. But it’s a whole ordeal." She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice like she was letting him in on a great secret. "The thing is, their tiramisu is legendary—like, hours of prep, delicate layers, the kind of dessert that requires actual effort. It got discontinued because the chef didn’t want to deal with the hassle anymore. But, through my very reliable sources—" she wiggled her eyebrows "—I found out they still serve it. But… only for very, very special occasions."
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”
She pulled a simple ring off her finger and slid it across the table. "They only serve it on very special occasions Charles. The chef is a real romantic."
Charles stared at her, unblinking. “You’re joking.”
She shook her head, trying to look serious despite the mischief in her eyes. “Not at all. I’ve tried everything to get a taste again, but my friends refuse to participate in my schemes.”
Charles hesitated, glancing between her and the ring. “You’re telling me I have to propose to you… for tiramisu?”
She nodded solemnly. “For the greatest tiramisu known to man.”
He exhaled, rubbing his temples. “I cannot believe I am considering this.”
She gasped. “Charles. Think of the dessert.”
He groaned dramatically before picking up the ring. “Fine. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”
Before she could react, he got down on one knee.
The restaurant quieted.
Charles took her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he looked up at her with nothing but warmth in his eyes. "Mon amour," he murmured, voice steady, heartfelt. "We've known each other since we were kids. You were always there—my partner in crime, my best friend. I can't imagine my life without you."
A few people around them sighed dreamily.
She felt a laugh bubble up, but Charles was fully committed, his gaze unwavering. "We've had our ups and downs, but through it all, it's always been you. And it always will be." He lifted the ring, giving her a small, knowing smile. "So what do you say, mon coeur? Marry me, and let’s spend the rest of our lives together."
The restaurant erupted in applause as she let out a shaky laugh, nodding. "Yes," she breathed, eyes locked onto his. "Yes, Charles, of course."
His grin was immediate, radiant, as he slipped the ring onto her finger. She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You know... I think I always knew it was you. Ever since the day you carried me home after I sprained my ankle as a kid."
Charles chuckled, squeezing her hand. "You remember that?"
"Always," she said, voice warm. "And now, I guess I get to spend forever remembering this too."
The applause grew louder, a few cheers echoing through the restaurant as the chef himself emerged, grinning from ear to ear, ready to present them with their well-earned tiramisu.
As soon as they sat back down, she burst into laughter. “I cannot believe you just did that.”
He smirked. “Well, I had to commit.”
The tiramisu arrived, and the moment Charles took his first bite, he slumped back in his seat. “Merde.”
She watched, delighted. “I told you.”
Charles stretched his arms above his head as they stepped out into the cool night air, letting out a dramatic sigh. "I hate you."
She snorted, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. "Wow. Romance is alive and thriving, I see."
"No, seriously," Charles continued, shaking his head. "That tiramisu was too good. Now every other tiramisu I eat will be a disappointment. You’ve ruined me."
She smirked. "That’s the price you pay."
Charles groaned. "I despise you."
She hummed, clearly enjoying his suffering. "Well, if it helps, they have different staff on Mondays."
He glanced at her. "And?"
She grinned. "So, if you want another piece, we could just… go again."
Charles narrowed his eyes. "How do you even know this?"
She took a deep breath, like she was trying very hard to act normal before saying something completely unhinged. "Because I have tried everything to get that tiramisu again. I have studied their staff schedules, noted which days the chef isn’t working, and even considered staging a fake engagement like 15 times, but my friends—" she threw her hands up in frustration "—are all cowards who refuse to propose to me for the sake of dessert."
Charles was already laughing before she even finished. "I cannot believe you have gone to these lengths for tiramisu."
"It’s not just tiramisu, Charles. It’s a masterpiece. A once-in-a-lifetime experience. A divine creation that mere mortals like us barely deserve. And yet, my so-called friends refuse to put their morals aside for the cause." She sighed. "Until tonight. You, sir, are a true ally."
He smirked. "Clearly. And what do allies get?"
She shrugged. "Eternal gratitude? The satisfaction of knowing you’ve done something noble?"
Charles held out his phone. "Your number."
She blinked. "What?"
He wiggled the phone slightly. "So we can go on Monday, obviously."
Her lips parted, eyes scanning his face like she was trying to find the joke. "You actually want to go again?"
Charles shrugged. "I mean… yeah. That tiramisu was worth it. And, you know… you’re fun."
She studied him for a second before snorting. "Unbelievable."
"Believe it, mon amour." He winked.
Still smiling, she took his phone and added her number before handing it back. "Fine. Monday it is."
Charles grinned. "Perfect."
As they walked side by side, their conversation spiraled into absurdity.
"Okay," she said, "how many ways do you think we could disguise ourselves to get another piece?"
"Fake mustaches?" Charles suggested. "Though that might be too suspicious."
"Agreed. What about wigs? I could totally pull off blonde."
"Mmm… questionable. We’d need a full transformation."
She snapped her fingers. "Fake accents! If we pretend to be tourists, they might not recognize us."
Charles gasped. "Genius. We’ll go in, act completely clueless—where should we be from?"
"Not Australia. You could never pull off an Aussie accent."
"Fine. Italian tourists. Very authentic."
She laughed. "You realize this is insane, right?"
Charles smirked, nudging her playfully. "And yet, you’re still planning it with me."
She groaned. "I hate that you have a point."
As their ridiculous tiramisu heist plans continued, Charles found himself thinking that maybe—just maybe—Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all.
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Based on the latest art/the famous graveyard scene, or at least my version of it. CW: The usual durge-isms. Astarion's sense of humor.
The graveyard is appropriately silent - there isn’t a proverbial soul to be seen as you stroll through the headstones with lazy strides. You’re so often in a rush to get from one place to the next, how novel it is to meander.
You wonder if either of your souls could tick up the counter; Astarion, a corpse-walking, and yourself something else entirely.
His head, battered and bruised as the rest of your bodies scans through the names etched on their respective places of rest, uncharacteristically quiet ever since you left the Inn. You’re worried. It’s been a dreadful day, and now he’s brought you here - you speak. “Are we defacing any graves tonight?”
Astarion humors you with a stiff grin - no, he says, then he changes it to a maybe, and then he asks you to be patient. His eyes land on a simple stone, half-sunken into the dry ground and overtaken by weeds and vines - a small thing forgotten amidst drunkards and urchins in a dark corner of the dead’s park. He sighs, pushes up his sleeves and snaps the foliage away with his own hands, dusts off the shallow writing and rubs the grime off on his knees - standing back a few feet to look over at his handwork. You squint to read his full name off the rock.
“Ancunin?”
“Astarion Ancunin.” He scoffs. “I haven’t seen this in… Well, in centuries. I was beginning to wonder if I had an em somewhere in there.”
His amusement dies down.
“I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt.
“He must’ve had someone come and smooth out the ground- Cazador, I mean. He was waiting for me here, when I finally surfaced.”
The vampire's eyes have risen from his name. He looks past the rows of gravestones and into the brick walls that surround them, sight glazed over, face drained from feeling. His words, so victorious in choice, just bear a numb uncertainty. He is so tired. “From that day on I was his. Until now.”
You shake your head. “You were never his. Everything he had, he took by force.”
“Maybe. But he did take it. And I can’t get it back.” Astarion shoots you an assertive scowl. “There’s nothing left of the person I was anymore. Just a name on a rock. I need to figure out who I am now - and what I want.”
You struggle to reach out to him. For the thing which he mourns. His words, when they echo within your own, perforated skull, sound to you like a statement of freedom, a relief; you’ve also left behind the person you were, and there is nothing there worth lamenting.
Astarion is different. As vague as his recollection of the past may be, or as favorably as you believe things have turned out for the both of you, eventually - you can’t help but feel like he would still trade it for a do-over. You don’t have it in you to ask if he would be willing to do it even if it meant your absence.
You know the answer.
You try to make your peace with it.
This person that your lover longs for, you didn’t know them, and you didn’t love them. But you do now; and so, you find yourself wanting for nothing.
“What is it that you want right now?”
“You.”
He’s caught in his own lack of hesitation, sullen face brought back to life by a small look of bemusement, of surprise. “I want you. Not just now, I… You were by my side through all of it - the bloodlust as well as the misery. You’ve shown yourself to be patient. And caring.” His words are staggered by chortles. “You are so sweet to me. A shock, frankly, given the most recent discoveries. I often wonder if this was always part of your nature, or just a happy consequence of your… ah”
Astarion’s finger prods uncertain around his own curly head of hair, prompting laughter to rumble up your throat. “Incident.”
“Perhaps.” You’ve never wondered such things and you never will. “You’re beginning to sound awfully sweet yourself, mister concussion.”
He groans in response, reaching the short distance over to the throbbing bruise on the top of his forehead, next to his temple. It was a close call today, perhaps the closest yet - or you only felt the ever more desperate given what was on the line this time. “Anyway, I should probably fix this.”
You watch as Astarion crouches down in the dirt. With a small dagger he had tucked away in his waistband, he gets to work scratching irregular lines into his neglected headstone.
Astarion Ancunin
His father’s pride, his mother’s starlight, his friend’s joy.
229 NR - 268 NR.
He makes an addition below the numbers.
468 NR.
“Is that the year?”
“Yes.”
He pauses, then proceeds a little less confidently. “... At least… I think so?”
You both exchange clueless looks before breaking into an ugly cacophony of snorts, Astarion leans with his hand on his memorial and hangs his head down in feigned exasperation, shoulders jerking. You kneel, joining him on top of his undisturbed plot. The vampire shakes his head “It doesn’t matter. I’ve been dead to the world long enough - whatever year it is now, I plan on living it. And I’m not letting anything stand in the way of that.”
He puffs his chest and breathes a lone sight - no subsequent following and no former to speak of. His body sits back onto his shins, hands fall limp on top of his thighs “Not him, not the sun, not some giant brain, and certainly not…
“Come here.”
There was less than a foot between your bodies that the elf now closed. He cups your jaw between his thumb and his pointer-finger, you feel a gentle pressure on your neck as Astarion uses you to leverage himself over - your mouths lock, you feel a scabbed-over cut on his otherwise soft bottom lip, a hard lump that splits and leaks into your gums. You turn,, grab onto him tight - hot palms on the cold nape underneath the collar of his shirt and chest against chest, a sore nose-bridge buried into his gaunt cheek. Your faces break apart and he presses his brow to yours, a passionate kiss turns into a tight embrace.
You take a long whiff of the crook of his neck “You’ve got me in a kind of way I can’t begin to make sense of.”
Astarion’s hand becomes entangled with the hair at the back of your skull. “I love you too.”
You feel it. The desperation and the future echo of his cracking ribs, the hot, vivid flashes of your digits prying apart bone and reaching into the cavity of his heart - you can’t be close enough to him. You can never step into his skin and he can never leap down your throat. An anxious feeling sinks into your gut as you realise that there is one thing that you still want; even in your waking hours of clarity, even in crystalline sanity, even in moments like these, ones that you hold sacred and wish to shield from depravity.
He murmurs into the side of your face. “Lets have sex. Right here.”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to beg?”
The playfulness in his tone is brief. He feels it in your tense shoulders and stiff back - you aren’t teasing him.
You only pull away enough so you can look at him, hands remain latched to his waist. “I’m still afraid of what I might do.”
“I understand.” He doesn’t seem disappointed, only sobered. “Well that puts a slight damper on my plans. No matter.”
“You can help yourself once you’ve tied me up for the night.”
“If I wanted to make love to a rabid mastiff I’d go find a new maniac to lord over me.”
“We could still just… Stay here a while. Together.”
You come off a little pleading. Astarion’s eyes squint when he smiles - “Yes, I… I think I’d like that.”
It’s a little clumsy, the way you sway apart and try to find your footing on the gravel, how your hands slide down each other’s elbows and then lock tightly at the fingers, refusing to let go, new amateur joints; as if men like yourselves who’ve more battles than many do in entire lifetimes couldn’t dream of standing up without the leverage - it’s ridiculous. You’re like little children bumbling to your feet, giggling, trying to catch each other staring as you dangle your locked hands over gravestones and step over rogue bouquets blown by wind.
Everything is fine, everything is well. Your future is certain as is your happily ever after - whatever it may imply. You peruse the cemetery, mocking the dead for the names their parents have given them, their uninspired eulogies and whether or not their dirt happened to smell of piss - you make up stories about the lives they lived and both the horrific or the banal circumstances in which they died. Astarion skips up the stairs to the coffin-maker’s abode, overlooking the scenery - he calls for you to come admire your kingdom, death prince. You laugh, and he laughs, and it all seems so awfully benign.
“That will be king for you soon.”
“Oh, gods - get away from me.”
He knows you aren’t serious. This world has brought you too much joy for you to end it. There hasn’t ever been a moment where you were tempted to do your fathers bidding.
But there’s been moments where you questioned what other choices you had.
Not tonight, however.
Astarion rolls his eyes and takes the hand you reach out to him with. You are yanked towards the paved terrace up the stairs, and you pull him into yourself in a lazy sway by the balustrades. “We will figure something out” You say.
“As always,” Astarion confirms with an emphatic nod of the head, but his gaze is low - he stares at your moving feet. Hand-in-hand and hand-on-hip he’s picked up on what you’re doing; “It’s - left forward, right back, close left, close right, right?”
“That is only if you’re leading.”
“Well then, I guess I’m leading.”
“Be my guest.”
He places a hand on your waist, you put yours on his deltoid, your boots bump into each other on occasion as you both waltz over uneven stone tiles, first with careful attention until you’ve caught yourselves in a sound-less rhythm. When you raise your eyes you find your partner-in-dance staring on with a rivalling smirk.
“So, you remember how to ballroom dance, yet haven’t got a clue about your own name?”
You ask if that disappoints him, Astarion assures you to the contrary. You both rehearse a dance for an event you will never be going to, and you enjoy every second of it.
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Happier than ever
Part 1
Pairing: Nam-gyu × Reader × The Salesman
Warnings: Drug Usage, Overdose, Death, Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Suicide, Mentions of Sexual Activities, Mentions of Rape, Domestic Violence, Domestic Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Anger Issues, Depression, Long Backstory, Minors do not interact!
Nam-gyu and you were a couple for the last eight years. But after you decide you had enough of his anger issues, you leave him and try to be happy on your own. Oh, how naïve you are.
Author's note: Okay, everyone.😩 I know you're waiting for the next part of "Your girl" and trust me, I am, too! I'm sorry that I haven't come up with it yet, but I needed to get my mind off of it for a moment, because I don't want to just write anything and publish it like that - the story means too much to me. I can't publish it unless I'm happy with it, but I promise you, I'm working on it. Until then, I started to furiously hit the key board and this happened. Whatever this is, it is Part 1 of it and I'm doing a Part 2, I just don't know when yet. I love you! 🤍 Lana
Loving Nam-gyu wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world.
In fact, it was almost impossible on most days.
But there was a part of you, a thing, a quiet voice – something that needed to be reassured, that felt like maybe you were the problem.
There had been good days, hadn’t there? Your birthday and the way he woke you up with pancakes every year. Of course they turned out horrible and were barely edible. They were raw on the inside and somehow, he still managed to burn them. But he made them for you. The memory still made you smile, despite everything.
Then there was the day you had your big ballet performance. You had spent so many months rehearsing, trying to be perfect. You went all Natalie Portman on that performance. Since the moment you’d been told you got to play Odette, you were fire and flame, spending every waking moment trying to be everything you pictured in your head. It was hard, very hard even. But you had the great hope that, if maybe you did well enough, they would come.
Your family would come and watch. They’d finally show you that they did indeed love you, that you weren’t just a burden or an accident. They would come and they would be proud of you. Your father would set his work phone down, your mother her pills. They would be there. For you.
But of course, they didn’t. You should have known better. It was your own fault, hoping and praying for something that was never going to happen. You should have known.
And still, the moment the curtain lifted and you glanced along the rows and rows of people, you felt disappointed. But you didn’t feel disappointed like normal people would, no. It was you after all. You felt devastated. You felt all of your creativity leave your mind. Your body slowly forgot the choreography. Your eyes glistened with tears. And your life was over.
You had your own issues. He had his anger. You had your world endings.
That was until the door flew open after everyone was already seated, waiting for the show to begin. A few heads turned and your gaze quickly flashed towards the now open door, revealing the face of the mysterious newcomer. He was out of breath and his hair was a mess, his cheeks glowing red and the look in his eyes pleading.
It was Nam-gyu.
You had just had the greatest argument of your life so far, throwing around dishes and screaming your lungs out at each other. Not even twelve hours had passed since then, so you were more than sure that he wouldn’t come. After all, he was the least reliable person you knew, alongside your family. And that fight had been particularly bad. You actually didn’t expect to ever see him again.
But there he was, his appearance disheveled and his eyes pleading with you. Pleading with you to forgive him, pleading with you to dance.
Dance.
You remembered the way you felt. The way your disappointment suddenly turned into something different, something hopeful and warm.
Something good.
He was good.
He was yours.
And you were his.
In that moment, there was nothing else. Everything around you faded into a dark cloud and all you could focus on was him and the way he stood in the middle of the audience, staring up at you. The world was quiet and everything smelled like flowers. The perfection you were striving for was suddenly there and it had nothing to do with your performance.
It was a slow dance, slow and sensual, between your souls.
Until suddenly the music started and your body remembered the movements again.
And you were indeed perfect.
Unfortunately though it wasn’t always like that. Most of the time, he was simply complicated. When he wasn’t drugged out of his mind, he was angry. Not at all the time – but easily. All you had to do was say the wrong thing and he’d explode. And you’d explode right back, right into his face.
“I fucking hate you!”
“Shut the fuck up, you dumb slut!”
“Who are you calling a slut?! You son a bitch!”
“Say that again!”
It always ended the same way. You sobbing on the floor, him slamming the door shut and disappearing. That were the good fights.
The bad ones were different. You couldn’t count the times you had been forced to take shelter in the bathroom, quickly locking the door, too afraid to let him even close to you. Of course you knew how to fight back. You didn’t let him get away with slapping you, oh no, you kneed him right in the balls so he’d know better not to fuck with you. He’d normally collapse and the fight would be over. But sometimes, on especially bad days, he got that look on him.
It wasn’t careful or hesitant. No, it was murderous and terrifying. You always knew there was something dangerous about him. That was probably what drew you in at first. But this…It was different. When he got that look, when the drugs clouded his mind like that, you were truly afraid of what he might do. And so you locked yourself in and listened to the way he pounded against the door, ready to break it down. So far, he hadn’t. A part of him was still in there, even when got like that.
But you didn’t want to push your luck.
After eight years of up and down, back and forth and through the gates of Hell, you finally left him for good. At first he probably didn’t believe it. After all, you had pulled the leaving card a million times before. But somehow you always ended up back in his bed, with him fucking your brains out and calling it making up.
But this time, you meant it. It had been a pretty normal Tuesday. You were at work, waiting tables and cleaning up after your mindless customers. It wasn’t the best job in the world, but it paid the bills – albeit, barely.
After your father left and married a woman hardly any older than you and you found your mother on the bathroom floor, cold and stiff, her eyes wide and her chin and hair covered in foam and puke, you decided couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t be that anymore.
You moved in with Nam-gyu. It started off well at first. He was as cute as ever, when he was sober. Sure, you had fights already, but they were mostly trivial. Yelling was involved, throwing furniture around as well, but he never got violent with you so far.
He found a job, as did you and you paid your apartment together. It was tiny of course, but it was enough. You bought groceries and washed laundry. You even had some spare money to buy furniture and decorations. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. You did everything the way you always pictured it.
You had been with Nam-gyu since you turned seventeen. You met back in school and immediately fell in love with him. He had been so sweet. Acting overly confident and arrogant, of course, but it was just a front which you immediately realized. Under all that he was actually rather silly. He made you laugh without even trying. Even he seemed surprised by how good you two matched. So far he’d been going through life, acting like everyone was beneath him. But in reality, he wasn’t popular. He was a bully. He was mean, with a cruel streak. But never to you. No, when someone dared to speak up their mind against you, he was there, ready to break their jaw. You formed a friendship of sort. He was protective and extremely possessive, while you were caring. His family was a bunch of assholes, just like yours was and neither of you had any real friends.
Most of your friends were other dancers and neither of those were really sentimental. Sure, it was enough to go out for a salad sometimes, but you really weren’t one for bulimia and cigarettes. Most of them were, unfortunately.
You loved food. You loved to eat and you appreciated every bite. You’d grown up rather lonely on your own, praying every night for a sibling or a real friend. Someone you could talk to, about real problems. Your ballet friends though? Whenever they asked you how you felt, they didn’t actually want to know. They were just being polite.
Nam-gyu was just as lonely, though he wouldn’t have ever admitted it. He had friends, who were to no one’s surprise, also a bunch of assholes. Some of them were just bullies, others were straight-up rapists.
“What do you mean, you changed your mind? Are you dumb? Shut the fuck up and take it. You agreed to this!”
Nam-gyu wasn’t. It was another thing he wouldn’t have admitted to out loud, but the thought of fucking someone while they were out of it was something he wasn’t after. A thing that really turned him on was to see the pleasure on the other person’s face. The moans, the sighs. He wouldn’t get that if he just made them take it. And so he didn’t. But he tried to keep a straight face, when his friends shared their immoral stories of last weekend. He tried to laugh, when they spoke about the way the girls curled up in self-hatred after they left them there, their cum leaking out of them.
That was until one of the girls ended up killing herself.
She had been super sad and melancholic for as long anyone could remember. She was rather quiet and no-one really spoke to her. She wasn’t weird or anything, just really shy. That was enough to get bullied. She was an obvious virgin and rather closed-off. A good challenge. A great bet.
So, one of his friends placed a bet with the others. Fuck the girl.
“No way that weirdo is letting you anywhere close to her.”
And she didn’t, at first. She didn’t trust anyone around, because people normally made fun of her. But that guy, who went by Nic, was a real good actor. He didn’t walk up to her and just made advances. No, he played shy around her. Sweet. Funny. He managed to tickle a smile out of her. A laugh. And he didn’t just do it once. He did it for days. Weeks. Two months. He played her boyfriend. Her sweet, shy boyfriend. Until her front slowly crumbled and she fell in love with him. Deeply. So much that she actually decided to give Nic her first.
According to Nic it had been nothing out of the ordinary, but Nam-gyu knew it was more than that. He could read the people around him fairly well, and he could also see the way Nic’s pupils dilated, the way his heart skipped a beat, whenever his sweet, little girlfriend was around.
But his friends, his friends, they were constantly at his back.
“Did you finally fuck her?”
“Did you stretch that weird little cunt, huh?”
“Don’t tell me you’re falling for that Wednesday Addams bitch.”
Nic had a reputation to uphold. And so he did what he deemed necessary. He had sex with her and then he dumped her. But not like any normal person would. No, he made fun of her in the worst ways and ended up sending her nudes to anyone who was interested.
The same nudes he had begged her to send him, to trust him, for only his eyes.
And the next day, the gruesome news were heard over speaker.
She was dead. Jumped off her apartment building, right into her death.
Nic had a mental breakdown. No-one else from his group really cared. No-one except for Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu spent the rest of the day in his car, staring down at the steering wheel and trying not to throw up.
You had heard the news of course and you were devastated. You hadn’t known the girl, but you had never been mean to her. You actually remembered a few interactions you had. You knew there had been something going on between her and Nam-gyu’s friend. But naïve, little you had had the hope that it wasn’t a trick. How stupid you had been.
You spent the rest of the day looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Right when you already thought maybe he wasn’t at school at all, you saw his car. He was inside and God, he looked horrible. With red-rimmed eyes and shaking hands, all day. You tried your best to comfort him, but it was futile. He felt guilty. Someone was dead. And maybe, just maybe, if he had intervened in time…
You tried to make him understand that it wasn’t his fault, not entirely. He never spoke to his friends again.
You’d later find out, that was the day he took his first injection. So far all he had been doing were mushrooms and weed, but Hell, who hadn’t?
You spent more and more time together, because he firmly ignored everyone who was so damn fucked in the head. He was trying to be good, he was trying so hard. Life hadn’t been easy on him, not at all, but he still tried.
A month later, you had your first kiss. Another three days later you had sex. It was your first time and he was being surprisingly gentle and considerate. You loved thinking back to it, because you didn’t regret it at all. No matter what else happened between you afterwards, you could never regret giving your virginity to him, because it meant so much to you. And it seemed to mean even more to him.
Two years later, it was safe to say you were made for each other. Even long after being out of school, you were still a couple. He still got these angry outbursts sometimes, but you tried to understand him. He had grown up, feeling unseen and unloved by anyone. As did you. You weren’t angry per say. But you got angry, when he did. You had these desperate mood swing. And whenever something didn’t go your way, you felt like the world was ending. You felt everything intensely.
Love was great. It was all-consuming. You loved him in the same way he did. You adored him. Anger was different. It felt suffocating. Sadness wasn’t sadness, but depression. And despair was enough to nearly kill you.
You tried going to university, but that didn’t work out, because your father left and so you had no chance to pay the tuition. Nam-gyu never even bothered to try, because he knew he would fail anyway, but he tried whatever he could to make your dream work. You wanted to work with animals, heal them, help them, do whatever you could to make someone’s life better. But despite all your – and his – efforts, it didn’t work out. It was simply too much. He was heartbroken when you were forced to leave school, because of your selfish prick of a father. But it was alright.
You’d find another job. You could still make it in life, even without university. Everything was good.
That was, until you couldn’t afford your dance practice any longer.
That was heartbreaking.
One day, you came home after a long day of playing cashier, only to find your mother had stolen all the money you had saved so far. She took it to buy pills or whatever else. You couldn’t even be mad at her, because she lay passed out in the doorway to her room.
You had no money. And all your dreams were dead.
By the time that happened you were far into twenty-one, so you knew that life was cruel and you turned more and more bitter.
Nam-gyu was simply angry, but there was not much he could do. His parents threw him out at nineteen, so he had been paying his own rent since then. He tried speculating with cryptocurrency, but that didn’t work out. He played it down, but you knew he lost quite the amount of his own savings.
A year later your mother died and you finally moved in together. So far you hadn’t been able to leave her on her own, but now that she was gone, you couldn’t stand to live in the same place where she had died. The cemetery of what could have been. Countless dour memories, not a single one good.
You had never had a particularly good relationship, but she was your mother nonetheless. The sight of her dead body and horrified face, it haunted you in your sleep. You spent more than one night, waking up screaming, sweating and clutching the linens. Luckily, Nam-gyu was there to catch you, before you ever managed to fall into the deep pit that was your mind.
He managed to calm you down somehow, every time. He was perfect. The perfect boyfriend.
Until he wasn’t.
You hated when he did drugs, especially so after what had happened to your mother. And so he said he wouldn’t, but it was obviously just to pacify you. You always noticed when he did it nonetheless, you knew the dazed look in his eyes, the paleness of his skin. Whenever he refused a meal, it was obvious to you. Normally, he’d choke down everything you cooked like a starved animal, but there were days when he picked at his food and that was always the first indication.
His short responses, his temper, suddenly so easily flared. It didn’t take long for your first real argument to break out. It was fine, up until the point when you saw his hand twitch. Obviously, you shot him a murderous look, daring him. If he dared to hit you, you’d break his fucking jaw.
And he refrained. For then.
Things went mostly normal, until the next fight. That time he wasn’t so gentle. Things got out of hand and he pushed you against the wall, smashing your head against it in the process. For a moment, you were simply stunned – and even he seemed to be. He stopped before he could cause any greater damage.
Things went between good and bad, it was a constant battle for dominance. One day was good, the next day horrible. You couldn’t even look at him without earning a harsh comment. You’d ignore him firmly for the rest of the day and eventually he’d come crawling back, begging you to let him back inside the bedroom. He didn’t mind the couch, he just missed you. And somehow you always forgave him, far too easily. Sometimes he did change for a while. Surprised you with flowers or his sad attempts at cooking. Every time he messed up a scrambled egg, you couldn’t help but get weak. He was so silly, it was endearing. Yet at the same time, you knew there was something dark within him. Most likely the drugs, but you could never tell for sure.
Maybe this was just who he was.
Things got better and worse again, until one night, he snapped. You had a fight about one of your co-workers, who he considered a threat. You never understood it, because to you it was so obvious that you never wanted anyone else. Despite your problems, you stayed fiercely loyal to him. You loved Nam-gyu. And a part of you still believed that in the end, things would turn out good. Maybe they would, right?
But that night was bad. He got so furious and when he yelled at you, the walls seemed to shake. You were normally so eager to fight back, so strong, but that day something was different. You were on your period and just a few hours earlier, you had met a dance friend of yours. She told you, she was sure that, if you had stayed, you’d be famous by now. But she wasn’t kind about it. She was subtly looking down at you, shaming you for the way your life had turned out. It made a tight knot form in your stomach and you felt your resolve slowly crumble. All you wanted was to cry, but even that didn’t work, because you came home to a furious Nam-gyu.
Your shoulders slumped and you refused to look at him, which only ever made him angrier.
You didn’t see the slap coming, but once it happened, you couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t forget the anger and the disappointment that welled up in you. When you looked up at him, you expected the tiniest bit of regret or guilt, but there was nothing. He was too deep in his bubble of anger and substance, to see clearly. He got more and more furious and you knew; if you didn’t hide then, he’d do something worse. It was the first night you hid yourself away in the bathroom, one of many to follow. You always told yourself it were the drugs. He was so sweet when he was sober, so gentle and loving. You kept telling yourself, things would be good one day. They would turn out well. With time and patience.
Until you snapped.
You were at work, staring off into the distance. You had been out of it all day, because you spent the previous night locked in the bathroom, until he finally passed out around four in the morning. You snuck out and made your way to your workplace, where you opened more than three hours early. You had nowhere else to go. No family, no friends, no one. Only you and your pain. All day you spent trying to cover the dark marks on your wrists, but no one seemed to care anyway. People went about their own lives and problems and you were just their co-worker, their waitress.
You stood silently, watching an elderly couple whose order you had just taken. They were so sweet, like they came right out of a movie. He held the door open for her and pulled her chair back. He caressed her cheek and she never flinched when he reached out his hand for her. They smiled at each other with such a tenderness, it brought tears to your eyes. That was the exact moment. That was the moment you realized you didn’t want to continue on living like this.
You wanted more. You deserved more.
You made your way back and gathered most of your things while he was still at work. Of course it wasn’t the most intelligent approach, but it was all you could do. You knew, the moment you sat down and tried to explain to him that you were going to leave him, he’d find a way to convince you to stay. It had been eight years, after all. Eight years on and off, eight years up and down. Drugs, violence, lies – at least he never cheated on you.
You’d keep that in tender memory of him. As well as the countless times he had comforted and fought for you. All the times he made you laugh, all the times he made you feel loved. The greatest sex you would ever have, no doubt.
But you still packed your things and left like a ghost. After eight years.
He tried to contact you of course, the moment he came home. But you took your paycheck and went to a motel. Whenever he tried to find you at work, you hid in the kitchen. Your co-workers tried to calm him down, to tell him that you didn’t work there any longer, but he saw through the lie. He got loud and furious, which you could kind of understand. You stayed in the kitchen, crying to yourself and feeling incredibly guilty, but you didn’t ever come out.
He kept coming, but it got less and less frequent. From what your co-workers told you, he seemed less and less like himself. The thought broke your heart and nearly made you go back.
You were constantly in your head, making more and more mistakes at work, until your boss’s patience finally snapped. When you messed up the third customers giant bill, he fired you. You instantly panicked, because you were sure, now you had to go back.
You even drove around in your car, trying to get a glimpse of him in the apartment. But to your horror, you didn’t see Nam-gyu in the window. It were other people, some couple actually. And when you tried to call him, the number wasn’t available. Suddenly, he was a ghost and you were knee deep in horse shit.
It didn’t take long for your money to go and so you ended up panicking. You had to leave the motel soon and if you didn’t get a job – you’d end up homeless. Which was as good as dead.
A few days later, after you realized that you seemed to have no special talents and that no one really cared to hire you, you sat at the metro station. You had only one option left or so you thought. Le girls girls girls. You were a dancer. You were graceful. You were too good for this.
But it was all you could do. After all, the girls didn’t have to indulge in any immoral transactions. They were just dancing, right? Fine, in light clothing, but still dancing. You could do that.
You were deep in thought, your eyes closed and your head leaned against the wall behind you, when you heard someone’s voice.
“Care for a game of Ddakji?”
This was when your life took a dark turn.
You eyed the handsome stranger with suspicion. It was super odd. A man going down the path of middle age, slicked-back hair, wearing a suit and a briefcase on him.
And he was asking you to play a game with him?
You frowned and glanced around.
“I don’t know what you want, but you won’t get it from me.”
He smirked and tilted his head to the side innocently.
“I don’t want anything. Just a little game. That’s all. You got something to win here. I got money.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not a fucking hooker.”
He smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And I told you, all I want is to play a game. Are you scared?”
That made you bristle. You knew the game and you fucking hated it. You were fairly good at playing at, but you didn’t care for this idiot’s audacity. You were about to snap at him again, when you caught sight of the money. Your eyes widened and you sank back against the wall.
“I don’t have any money.” You murmured back.
“Don’t worry. You can pay with your body.”
Your head shot up and you were ready to lunge at him, but he held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I have no intention of fucking you.” He said calmly. “So, I’ll ask again. Are you scared?”
You crossed your arms and got up, giving him a dirty look.
“Get to it, son of a bitch.”
Your eyes fluttered open slowly. You had trouble adjusting your sight to the unnatural, neon light. The smell was odd, somewhat disinfectant. Something was really wrong.
You slowly stretched and turned your head, only to see you weren’t alone. That was enough to nearly make you shriek. You sat up quickly enough to get dizzy. Next to your own bunk was a woman who stared at you through her cat-eyes. She smirked devilishly as she lay on her side.
“Your fate is sealed. There’s no way you can dance your way out of this.”
You tried to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. This had to be some freakish co-incidence. You took your gaze off her, only to realize you weren’t alone. Countless people surrounded you, some of them awake, others still asleep. They all wore the same green tracksuit, just as you did.
You took a shaky breath and carefully swung your legs over the bed, heading for the ladder.
What, in God’s name, was this? And why did you agree to it?
You only remembered how ashamed you felt and how good the prospect sounded of not having to dance half-naked for strange men.
But was this really better?
You glanced around in the hope of…Of what? The situation was far too fucked up.
The fact that they got you here unconsciously, getting you dressed…
You wanted to throw up. You stumbled through the great hall, hoping to get some answers to your questions, but that hope quickly got crushed.
These were the real strange men. Dressed in pink suits, wearing masks which covered all of their faces and even their voices weren’t their own. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a fun game, you suddenly realized.
That Ddakji playing motherfucker had deceived you.
You lost the first round, which resulted in him slapping you. And that slap, which hadn’t really been a gentle one, awakened some kind of beast in you. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the memory of getting slapped and hunted down your own apartment on a regular basis. Whatever it was, you didn’t lose another round. He gave you money and money and money. But you didn’t want his fucking money. You wanted revenge.
You kept winning, because nothing else was possible. And by the end of the game, he smiled at you while he handed you the damned card.
But right before he turned crawled back into the pit of Hell where he had come from, you called out to him.
“Hey, motherfucker.”
He cocked a brow and regarded you with amusement. “Are you still mad about that tiny, little hit? Come on, you took it like a champ.”
“Then you should, too.” You slapped him with an intensity, you didn’t think you’d ever possess.
He looked at you like a statue, obviously ready to lunge at and murder you. But he hid his murderous intent behind a well-rehearsed smile.
“That one was free.” He said calmly. “And if I ever do see you again, I want a return match.”
He left and you were left with the card.
And there you were now. This wasn’t some childish game of Ddakji.
No one showed their face. You knew what that meant. Something was wrong – and you were in trouble.
You were about to leave the hall and take part in the first game, following after the others. You wouldn’t even have noticed, had you not bumped into him full-force.
When you pulled back your head, ready to apologize, you froze.
There he was. Your Nam-gyu. Staring back at you with wide eyes, behind them a mixture of something akin to surprise and fury.
“What the fuck?” He hissed.
He rushed forward and grabbed your by the shoulders, backing you up against the wall. Your eyes widened and you tried to push him back, but he was driven by something far stronger than both of you.
“Nam-gyu?” You breathed out.
He frowned deeply and stared at you incredulously.
“What the hell are you doing here?!”
“I didn’t-“
“Oh my God, I’m going to kill you.” He growled. “Where were you? What’s going on with you? Are you fucking-“
“Is there a problem here?” At first, you didn’t see the guy behind him with his ridiculous hairstyle and pouty lips. Immediately, you hated the sight of him.
“Fuck, she’s my-“
The purple-haired guy gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Whatever, man. We should get going, huh? We’ll be late for the game.”
He eyed you in an odd way, but you pushed it down and used the moment to free yourself from Nam-gyu’s grip and run out, rushing after the others and hiding in the crowd. He attempted to follow you and even called out to you, but you were already gone.
Fuck, you thought.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
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HAMILTON INTERVIEW
DadLewis Hamilton X Mom!fem!reader
Summary: When Marie has a school activity where she needs to interview one of the parents about his profession, Pietra gets very excited and wants to do the same.
Words: 2.3K+
Warnings: Mentions of Lewis's career, Pietra jokes, cute daughters, funny couple teasing.
Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any mistakes that may be in the story. This story is part of a miniseries, Universe of A NON-SEPARATION, but can easily be read as a standalone. ❤️🇧🇷
MASTERLIST
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/5934d2153e6ee03ff10e246039721624/3313f7d78f62de5a-5c/s540x810/3d676ef67760900a18ba6369d9ac0307c025963a.jpg)
The Hamiltons' house was in a peaceful late afternoon. The sun was already beginning to set, bathing the living room in a soft golden light. From upstairs, the sound of doors opening and closing indicated that Marie and Pietra were in their rooms, changing clothes and organizing their backpacks after the day of school.
On the couch, Y/n sighed as she settled down next to her husband. Lewis smiled sideways and, without hesitation, pulled her into a hug, nestling her against his chest.
"How was your day?" He asked, running his fingers lightly down her arm.
"Tiring. I had to make several appointments at the office and a team from a hospital contacted me, wanting to hire me to help with a major surgery next month." Y/n admitted, closing her eyes for a second, enjoying the contact. "I'll explain better later... Picking up the girls from school was the easiest part. And yours?"
Lewis laughed. "I spent all day relaxing with Roscoe on the couch."
Y/n opened her eyes and stared at him, feigning indignation.
"How envious!"
The pilot laughed again, but soon slid his hand to his wife's face, caressing her cheek before pulling her in for a kiss. Their lips met in a soft, familiar touch, which gradually deepened. It was a calm kiss, the kind that didn't need to be rushed, just the moment. Lewis slid his fingers down the back of Y/n's neck, feeling the heat of her skin against his.
The moment, however, was interrupted by a familiar sound. Near the stairs, Marie cleared her throat, drawing her parents' attention.
The two walked away slowly and exchanged a knowing look before turning to Marie, who was watching them with a notebook and pencil case in her hands.
"Am I interrupting something?" She asked amusedly, arching an eyebrow and holding back a smile.
Lewis smiled, settling back into the couch.
"It depends... do you want to talk about something really serious or can we continue?"
"LEWIS!" Y/n lightly slapped his arm, laughing, before looking at her daughter. "What's wrong, honey?"
Marie smiled and ignored her father's joke, getting straight to the point.
"I have to do a paper on professions. I have to interview one of you."
Immediately, Lewis and Y/n exchanged a glance, as if they were competing for a valuable prize.
"Well, I think we all know which profession is more interesting here..." Lewis said, crossing his arms with a smug smile.
"That's right..." Y/n agreed. "The medical one!!"
Marie laughed. "Actually... I chose Dad's profession."
"AHA!" Lewis cheered, looking at Y/n like he had just won a race. "Victory for me!"
Y/n rolled her eyes, laughing. "How unfair. I lost to Formula 1."
"Accept defeat with grace, doctor." He teased, smiling.
Y/n returned the smile before gently pushing him onto the couch.
Marie shook her head in amusement before sitting down on the floor and spreading her supplies out on the coffee table in the living room. Lewis soon followed suit, crossing his legs and settling himself in front of his daughter.
At that moment, Pietra came down the stairs, stopping when she saw the two of them sitting across from each other.
"Why are you like this? Are you going to arm wrestle?"
There was general laughter.
Pietra then crossed the room and threw herself next to her mother on the sofa, still looking suspiciously at the scene.
"Your sister has a school project to do with Daddy." Y/n explained, running her fingers through her daughter's curls.
"I want to do that too!"
Lewis turned to her with a warm smile.
"So grab some paper and pencil, little journalist. I'll answer any questions you want."
The youngest smiled excitedly and jumped off the couch, running up the stairs.
"BE CAREFUL, PIETRA!" Y/n warned, already anticipating her daughter's haste.
Meanwhile, Marie looked at her father. "The teacher gave us some questions we can use, but I made up some extra ones.
"I like the initiative." Lewis said, nodding. "Send the first one."
Marie looked at her notes and read aloud: "Why did you choose to be a Formula 1 driver?"
Lewis smiled, remembering the beginning of his career.
"Oh, that's an easy one. I've always loved running. Ever since I was little, I knew I wanted to do it for the rest of my life. So I dedicated myself, trained hard, and through a lot of hard work, I got to where I am today."
Marie took notes in her notebook as Pietra returned from upstairs, carrying a piece of paper and several colored pencils. She sat next to her sister and watched curiously as Marie formulated the next question.
Y/n, sitting on the couch, rested her elbows on her thighs and smiled. She knew her Hamiltons like the back of her hand. Marie would ask detailed questions and take notes seriously, while Pietra, in a few seconds, would say something funny and unexpected.
It was just a matter of time.
"What was the most difficult moment in your career?"
Lewis raised his eyebrows, surprised by the complexity of the question. He was silent for a few seconds, thinking.
"Hm... I think one of the hardest moments was when I narrowly lost a championship. We work all year for this, and when it doesn't happen, it's frustrating. But I learned that it's part of the sport, and we always have to move forward."
Marie nodded, writing everything down carefully.
Beside her, Pietra shifted excitedly on the cushion where she was sitting and looked at her father.
"Now it's my turn!"
Lewis smiled, already expecting something unexpected from the youngest.
Pietra took her paper and began to draw with colored pencils. As she traced something on the paper, she asked: "If there was a race against a dinosaur, who would win?"
There was general laughter. Marie rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile as she finished writing down her father's previous answer.
"Good question!" Lewis said, pretending to actually consider the question. "I guess it depends on the dinosaur. If it's a velociraptor, maybe it would be a handful, but if it's a T-Rex, I'll win hands down!"
Pietra nodded in agreement, as if she were an expert on the subject, as she continued her drawing.
On the couch, Y/n rested her face in her hands and laughed softly at the scene. Lewis looked away from her and smiled, his eyes shining with love. He loved seeing his wife having fun with the little things in the family. It was in these moments, in the midst of his daughters' fun chaos, that he realized how much he loved that life with them.
Marie finished writing and then turned to her father. "Daddy, how do you spell 'frustrating'?"
"Come here and I'll show you, honey," Lewis said, leaning over to read his daughter's notebook.
Marie brought the notebook closer and he pointed out the letters slowly, spelling them out for her.
“Ah, I see.” She smiled. “Thank you.” Once she had finished writing, Marie looked back at her list of questions. “Okay, next… How did you feel in your first Formula 1 race?”
Lewis gave a nostalgic smile.
"Oh, I was so nervous. It was one of the most exciting days of my life, and I just wanted to do my best. That's when I realized I was exactly where I always wanted to be."
Marie wrote everything down while Pietra continued drawing. The silence in the room lasted a few seconds until Marie realized something.
She lightly nudged her sister's arm and muttered softly, "P, your turn..."
Pietra raised her head, blinking a few times.
"Oh! It's true!"
She placed a finger on her chin and made a thoughtful expression before saying, "Daddy... have you ever slept inside the racing car?"
Lewis blinked, surprised by the question.
Y/n brought her hand to her mouth to hold back a laugh, while Marie shook her head, already used to her sister's unusual questions.
"Well..." Lewis crossed his arms, pretending to be thinking. "Not yet, but considering how much I travel, maybe one day I'll try!"
Pietra giggled and went back to drawing, satisfied with the answer. Marie just sighed, returning to her notes.
"Dad... what's it like for you to run and have a family at the same time?"
The question took Lewis by surprise for a moment. He looked away to Y/n, who was on the couch, watching everything with a calm smile. They exchanged a look full of affection before Lewis answered.
"At first, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to balance it all," he admitted, looking back at Marie. "But having you guys makes it all worth it. Every race I win, every podium, every hard lap... at the end of the day, I know I'll always come home to you guys, and that's the best feeling in the world."
Y/n smiled, feeling her heart warm with those words. Marie smiled too, writing everything carefully, while Pietra, who was focused on her paper and colored pencils, blurted out out of nowhere:
"If mom was a pilot, would you beat her?"
The silence lasted only a second before Y/n let out a surprised laugh.
"I loved that!" She said, looking at Lewis with a mischievous look. "So, Hamilton? Would I give you a hard time?"
Lewis tilted his head, pretending to think.
"Hm... I think you'd be a tough opponent, but in the end..." He paused dramatically. "I would win!!"
Y/n widened her eyes, pretending to be offended.
"WHAT?"
Marie laughed, while Pietra looked at her father with wide eyes.
"Daddy! But what if Mommy was like... really fast?"
"I drive well!!!" Y/n retorted, crossing her arms. "Do you think I would never win a race from you?"
Lewis laughed, defending himself. "You have talent, love, but... experience counts!"
"Oh, now you're trying to teach me about motor racing?"
Marie laughed more and more, while Pietra just looked from one to the other, amused.
"I think mommy would win, yes!" Pietra declared, going back to drawing on the paper.
"That's right, P!" Y/n joked, winking at her daughter.
Lewis shook his head, laughing.
Meanwhile, Marie remained serious and organized, writing the answers correctly, while Pietra had already given up on the interview and was decorating her paper with stickers and hearts around her father's name.
Lewis looked at her drawing and chuckled.
"P is more concerned with making art than writing down the answers."
"Hey, I'm writing it down my way!" Pietra said, holding up the drawing to show. She had drawn Lewis in a race car and a dinosaur running alongside him.
Lewis laughed out loud.
Marie shook her head and asked another question. "What was the most special day of your career?"
Lewis smiled and replied, telling about his first victory in Formula 1. But, in the middle of the answer, Y/n made a sound with her mouth and crossed her arms.
"Hm... I think he's forgetting something important..."
Lewis looked at her, confused. "What?"
"That the most special day of your career was when your daughters were born," she said with a smile.
Marie rolled her eyes, laughing. "Mom, that doesn't count as a day in his career..."
"Of course it counts!" Y/n insisted. "I remember you were almost born in the Mercedes garage. And when your father held you for the first time, he said you were the greatest trophy of his life."
Lewis smiled, nodding. "Okay, okay, you're right. The most important victory of my life was you three."
Pietra gave a satisfied smile, while Marie wrote it down in her notebook in a more serious manner.
The mood became more relaxed, and then Marie frowned thoughtfully.
"Did you know that when I was very little, I was scared of the noise of the cars when I went to my first GP?"
Lewis raised his eyebrows. "Really? You remember that? I was so little!"
Marie nodded. "I was about a year old, I think...but I remember it was really loud. I think I cried."
Y/n confirmed, laughing. "Yes, you cried and clung to daddy at the time. You only stopped when he started talking softly in your ear and calmed you down."
Lewis smiled at the memory. "And now here you are, writing down everything about racing. Who would have thought, huh?"
Marie smirked.
"Yes...the noise doesn't scare me anymore."
Pietra looked at her sister and made a funny face. "You were scared!"
"You cried the first time too!" Y/n says smiling
"I think it's a lie..." Pietra says amusedly, coloring the drawing.
Everyone laughed together.
After several questions, laughter, and memories, Marie closed the notebook with a satisfied sigh.
"I think I have everything I need." She said, looking at her father with a smile. "Thank you, Daddy."
Lewis motioned for her to come into his embrace and smiled. Marie stood up and walked over to him, hugging her father as he ran his hands through her hair.
"Anything for you, sweetie"
Marie smiled proudly as Pietra held up her drawing and showed it to her father.
"I'm done too! Look, Daddy! You're running next to a dinosaur!"
Lewis took the paper and looked at the drawing carefully. He held back a laugh when he saw the dinosaur next to his car, but smiled fondly.
"I think this race was the most exciting I've ever had!"
Pietra smiled with satisfaction and threw herself into her father's arms too, Marie looked at the drawing and laughed.
"Well, now I just need to make a clean copy and write the final text..." Marie looked at the notebook on the other side of the table, still next to her father, hugging his neck.
"Do you want help, daughter?" Y/n asked.
"No need, Mom, I can handle it."
"My organized girl!" Y/n approached the three in the hug and kissed Marie's head and soon after Pietra, Lewis smiled seeing his three girls.
"I think my drawing is also worth it as a school project! I'm going to paste it in my notebook!
"And I'm sure your teacher will love it," Lewis said, kissing the top of his daughter's head.
Y/n smiled, watching the two girls snuggle into their father's side. It was in these little things that she saw how lucky she was to have that family.
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#fanfiction#y/n#romance#imagines#one shot#formula 1#formula one#marriage#fem reader#lewis hamilton x y/n#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton
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Hey! Love your works, it's really nice to read them and I just love your style💖, may I request an isagi x reader but the reader is kaiser's little sibling? It sounds fun ☺️
⋆。˚꩜ a comprehensive tutorial on how to piss off michael kaiser in his penthouse; by yoichi isagi.
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yoichi isagi just wants to hang out with you...but your brother is making it quite uncomfortable
warnings: slight violent descriptions (as a joke), michael kaiser gives you no privacy, one mention of google translated german // wc: 957
note: i was giggling the entire time writing this LMAOO imo such a funny dynamic, the rivalry goes crazy.
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your bubbly laughs that echo through the penthouse allow isagi to relax, just a little bit. the environment is new to him, and he’s afraid that the smallest slip-up will result in his head being chopped off by one of the rather large, menacing butcher knives lined against the marble kitchen walls.
but what’s even more threatening is the way kaiser is glaring at him, blue gaze more piercing than any dagger.
“micha, you’re making yoi uncomfortable,” you begin, shooting the blonde haired man your own look of annoyance. you turn your attention away from the mixing bowl in front of you to interlace your fingers with yoichi’s, trying to offer him some comfort. isagi wonders if theres nervous sweat on them.
“he’s in my penthouse, with my sibling? am i meant to leave him unattended, to let this donkey roam around with free will?” kaiser huffs, arms crossing.
yikes, was he in a mood today.
“you’re calling my boyfriend a donkey?” yeah, you were ready to throw hands right there.
isagi had practically jumped for joy when you’d invited him over to bake cookies. he somehow managed to forget that you were rival’s little sibling, and that your house was technically also michael’s—of course he would own a penthouse with a city view. michael was an oddly protective elder brother, or maybe his rivalry with yoichi just ran that deeply; was it not enough for isagi to steal the soccer ball on court? did he have to steal michael’s bloodline too?
“go, um, read a psychology book or something,” you say, wanting to get your brother off the scene. “hang out with ness! i’m sure he’d love to!”
yoichi nods his head hurriedly in agreement.
“you think you two are getting rid of me that easily? that’s-“ your brother is cut off mid-scoff, his phone ringing loudly and persistently. you snicker, knowing that you were about to win.
“was zum teufel,” michael spits, picking up the line.
“no, ness, i’m busy…what? you seriously can’t drive yourself? can’t i…uh….i guess you’re right,” he seems to be arguing with ness, going back and forth.
“you two lucky idiots are getting your wish,” michael snaps as he hangs up, hurrying out the door. before it closes, a warning: “isagi, if you try anything, i’ll screw you over before you can blink twice.”
“yeah yeah, shitty rose.” yoichi’s ego gets the best of him. great, now he’d been rude to your brother in front of you!
but you don’t seem to mind, maybe you didn’t care, humming softly as you add chocolate chips to the mix.
"you need to move out," yoichi doesn't think he can visit you if this is how your brother was going to be.
“hmmm, could be worse. what if we made s’mores cookies?” you reply excitedly.
“the ones with marshmallows?”
“yep! i think i have them somewhere,” you pull him into your startling large pantry. the size is almost that of a grocery aisle, and it’s stocked with an insane amount of protein powder—likely your brother’s doing—but you find the small package of the fluffy white sweets tucked away in a corner.
except, you can’t quite get to it, the nook being far above your head.
“let me,” yoichi says, reaching up. he has to be on the tips of his toes, curse michael kaiser for being so damn tall!
as yoichi fumbles above you for a bit, he doesn’t notice the odd position he’s forced you into, your back flush against the shelves. you’re not that much shorter than him, but he’s gripping onto your shoulder for support, and the proximity makes you flustered. he smells good, crisp and clean, a hint of citrus in the mix.
with a small flop, the bag finally comes crashing down, along with yoichi’s balance. he lets out a startled yelp, hurriedly latching onto your other shoulder.
oh.
you blink, fazed by his deep aquamarine eyes, and the way that your noses are practically touching. his breath is ticklish, irregular from the earlier struggle, and a cherry red blush painted across his entire face.
you’re both too scared to move, stuck in the haze, should you move? closer? maybe further?
it’s like that for an agonizingly long second—still—until yoichi chooses for the both of you, his fingertips make contact with your jaw and they’re warm, hot like the kiss he suddenly pulls you into.
you’re far too eager to reciprocate, hands finding their way into his soft dark locks. the cookie batter stays neglected on the sleek white countertop, both of you distracted and lost in another world.
when your lungs threaten to implode from lack of air, that’s when you pull away, gasping softly.
your boyfriend’s face is ten times redder now.
“sorry, i- i should’ve asked first,” yoichi stammers, flustered and unable to meet your eyes.
“it’s fine, i like you when you’re confident, yoi,” you smile, twisting a strand of his hair.
you fail to notice how the front door had opened, and you’re greeted with michael kaiser standing in the hallway, gawking at the two of you.
“why’s he in my pantry?” michael’s pissed now. “of all damn places, could you two not make out in the middle of my protein powder? seriously, that is gross. i won’t be able to drink that shit now!”
“oops,” you giggle. “you’re just upset that you don’t have someone.” your brother lets out an indignant huff, ready to start hell as he marches closer. you’re still snickering.
unfortunately, yoichi cannot find any of this nearly as funny as you do—no, he’s already thinking about the hell your brother’s going to give him during the game tomorrow, convinced that both of the kaisers would be the death of him.
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a/n: michael says "what the hell" in german, i just wanted to make it diverse idk. like genuinely isagi is lucky if he makes it through the week dating a kaiser sibling...kaiser is not giving his blessing for the wedding LMFAO
masterlist!
#rip my boy isagi#kaiser's possesive of his own bloodline atp#he would NOT wanna end up w brother in law isagi#bllk x reader#blue lock#bllk x you#blue lock x reader#blue lock x you#bllk fluff#michael kaiser#kaiser blue lock#isagi yoichi#yoichi isagi#bllk isagi#blue lock isagi#isagi x reader#isagi x you#yoichi x reader
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Man, am I the Greatest?
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Gojo stood, leaning against the table, arms folded as the conversation raged around him. His eyes were distant, his usual smirk nowhere to be found. He didn’t even try to pretend anymore.
“We’ll use his body after his death,” someone said, matter-of-factly, as if they weren’t talking about a person who had given everything for them. “His abilities, his power—can help us defeat Sukuna.”
Gojo’s gaze flickered to you for a moment. You were standing in the corner, eyes wide with disbelief.
“No!!” you said, stepping forward. The room went still and silent. “I will not let this happen.”
Gojo didn’t say anything, but his lips twitched, like he was preparing for the inevitable. “It’s fine,” he said, voice too calm, too tired. “I agreed to it.”
“You agreed to it?” you asked, stepping closer, your voice trembling with anger. “You agreed to be used like this? Like you’re some tool they can just… use to their convenience?”
“They’re doing what’s necessary,” Gojo said, shrugging, the indifference masking the hurt. “It’s not like I’m going to need my body once I’m gone. It’s all just—power. They can utilise my powers.”
“No,” you snapped, taking a step forward, forcing him to meet your eyes. “You’re not just your power. You’re you. You are more than this. You fucking matter to me. You deserve more than this.”
For a moment, Gojo looked at you, his mask cracking just slightly. His usual bravado slipped for a second, and you saw the vulnerability beneath it. But he quickly masked it again, his voice quieter this time. “Well I don’t really care what happens to my body after death.”
“No,” you said firmly, voice shaking with emotion. “You don’t get to let them decide that for you.”
Gojo sighed, shaking his head, stepping away from you. “Well to be honest, my whole life was decided from the beginning. Who am I to question that?”
You grabbed his arm, pulling him back toward you. “I care for you,” you whispered, eyes burning with tears. “I love you. And I’m not going to let them turn you into a tool after you’re gone. I just won’t let them.”
Gojo stood still, his chest tight. For once, he didn’t try to smile, didn’t brush you off.
“…I know,” he whispered, voice raw.
“Toru, I love you and I married you because you’re Satoru Gojo. Not because you’re the strongest. If anything bad ever happens to you, I will make sure that you get the peace that this world didn’t let you have.” you said, your voice firm.
For the first time in a long while, Gojo smiled. A genuine soft smile. He wiped away the tears pouring down your cheeks with his thumb and said, “I love you too. Nothing bad will happen to me. I will win, my sweets. Now will you stop overthinking?”
#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu sorcerer#jujutsu kaisen satoru#jujutsu satoru#jujutsu gojo#jjk satoru#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk gojo#gojo angst#gojo fluff#satoru gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo saturo#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk thoughts#jjk fanfic#jjk fluff#jjk#satoru x you#satoru smut#gojo sensei#gojo scenario#gojo smau
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I am a person, you are not.
How many times did Helly play that line over and over in her head? How many times did Helena think those words to herself as she watched Helly run up and kiss Mark S? This line is going to haunt them fucking BOTH and I am here for it.
Now, I don't think Helena thought, fully, that she could replace Helly. She asked for those tapes because she needed to watch Helly's mannerism. She needed to know how to act. What to say. Probably while thinking about how it should be easy, her Innie isn't a person.
The one thing I love about getting to see Helena more in S2 is purely so you can see just how strong of an actress HELENA is. She has to be. She's an Eagan, certain behaviors are expected of her. Certain beliefs are expected of her.
But all of it is slowly, but surely, crumbling before her eyes. Mark S had sex with her because he loved Helly. Irving knew she wasn't Helly from the beginning; her bring cruel confirmed it.
She, Helena, was raised and forged in a cruel environment. With the expectation to not only conform, but to also continue building and protecting that environment. To be part of the cruelty. For it to be the thing that SOLIDIFIED it for Irving is just -
As a System, that fear of wondering if anyone will notice you're not who they think you are. They keep calling you this name and you have to remember to answer to it; it's "your" name, after all. And then that one person - that one, far too observant person notices and -
Well, Helena found herself in a life or death situation, didn't she?
Is she really the person? Maybe she's not... Not if gentle Irving was willing to kill her to get the so called not-a-person back...
Oh god. Oh no. I just realized. Helena thought Mark liked HER. She thought that because Mark liked Helly that meant Mark liked HER cause Helly is her. Helly is part of her. That’s why she called for Mark when Irving was pulling her toward the water. She thought Mark would save her. And now she has to rectify with the fact that Mark didn’t love or even like her. Their whole thing was only because Mark thought she was Helly. Mark doesn’t care about Helena at all. And she’s gotta deal with that in her head now. That’s another person in her life who doesn’t love her. And this time it’s even worse. Because he likes someone who IS HER! It’s her body! It’s her brain! But he still doesn’t love her. She’s still not loved. But another version is loved so much by three whole people they’re willing to sacrifice themselves!!!!! Helena is loved by no one. She even had to almost beg Milchick to save her. No one was coming to save her. Because they don’t love her they don’t even like her. They love Helly.
#helena eagan#helly r#the amount of ways this show resonates for us as a System is just#HELP ME#i have so many thoughts because i have BEEN THERE in Helena's shoes 💀#like#not quite to the same degree but the whole shit i have to pretend to be the person these people think i am#because being a System requires so#so much masking#if you dont want people to find out#its terrifying#I'm open about my disorder now but can you imagine 5 year old me? pffft#yeah she was terrified#he was also terrified#all three of the firsts were
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could you do something with logan comforting a crying reader?
logan comforting a crying reader.
warnings : pure fluff, nothing else, established relationship, pet names (logan calls reader sweetheart baby and sugar), written with logan in wolverine 2013 in mind.
a/n : i hope it's something like what you were hoping for anon, i really like soft logan i guess. i hope to write more stuff like this in the future, i need logan to take care of me!!!, nothing more, please enjoy (。•̀ᴗ-)✧
the cold night hits in the apartment after a long and tiring day, you enter the small apartment slamming the door, logan from the couch observed this strange attitude of yours, he smelled in the air that something was not too right. as you headed straight to your shared room, he raised an eyebrow, this was quite new, not even a hi? how are you? where was your sweet smile? you always greeted him and chatted about each other's day, this was rare.
you entered the room, reluctantly removing your uncomfortable shoes, it didn't take long for you to sink your head into the comfortable pillow, letting the contained tears begin to escape from your eyes, moistening the pillow a little.
logan was quick to appear in the room, approaching the bed with a worried expression. He sits down beside you, the bed sinking under his weight, his large hand moving to your back, caressing it as he whispers, "what happened, sweetheart?” on your ear, trying to get to see your face. “come on, baby.. let me see ya..” He mutters as you get up, Sitting next to him.
your tears seemed to never stop, as you cried logan brushed away the rebellious strands of your hair that stuck to your wet face. "shh… take a deep breath okay? tell me what happened.." he says looking at you with love and understanding. you blinked a few times, trying to calm yourself down, he pulled you on his lap, letting you hide in his neck.
“i'm tired.. it was a long day and things didn't go well today..” you babble between tears, logan sighs as he keeps caressing your hair. “was it that bad baby?” you nod against his neck, his body began to rock you a little, trying to calm you down. it is warm, he is really warm. it is well known that logan james howlett is not a man of too many words, and in situations like this he really didn't know what to say.
you sob a few times before calming down completely, your head was pounding like crazy, like it was being hammered. you were crying inconsolably, it was obvious that it would pass at some point or another. you sighed as you let yourself be carried away by logan's slow rocking, your body snuggled more against his as you dried your tears. “thank you.” your somewhat hoarse voice whispers.
“anytime, sugar.” he says, kissing your forehead, he let you stay on his lap as long as you needed, he loved having you in his arms anyway, your cheeks were red and just like your eyes, your eyelashes were soaked and your lips were swollen. "let’s put on your favorite movie. i’ll grab ya something to eat, and then ya can take a warm shower. ya need to get your mind off this, yeah?” logan looks back at you as he lightly squeezes your arm, a silent gesture of ‘i am here’
he gently pulled you off his lap, sitting you on the bed. you were feeling so much better, you had a boyfriend who actually listened to you and cared about you. you were happy that you had found a man as attentive as him. logan came back with a glass of water. "take this, sweetheart.” he says, handling the glass to you. you drink the water slowly, he sighs and caresses your back. “ya know that i love ya, right?” logan says, looking at you lovingly.
“i love you too, lo.” you mutter, leaving the glass on the nightstand. he plants a soft, warm kiss on your lips. he will always be with you, especially when you need him the most.
#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett#wolverine one shot#wolverine x reader#logan howlett fluff#wolverine fluff#wolverine 2013#anon ask#thanks anon (◍•ᴗ•◍)✧*。
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partners in lies - rafe cameron (smau)
masterlist ☆ 59 ← 60
summary: in which two public figures need help getting back into the public’s good graces after being bombarded in scandal.
content warnings: model!rafe x actress!reader au, original afab!reader, cameron family still gets along au, suggestive content, mentions/allusions to revenge p*rn (HOWEVER ALL CONTENT ITSELF IS SFW), mentions of cheating, mentions of alcohol, general fuckboy behaviour.
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a/n: and there she is 🥰🥰 hope you guys like how it all wrapped up 🥹 genuinely, thank you all SOO much for all of your love & support on this since the beginning. i absolutely LOVED reading all of your comments & tags & reactions to everything!! i've had so much fun writing this & am so glad you guys have grown to love it as much as i do 💞💞
ALSO!! there isn't an epilogue really put together yet—you can let me know if you want one in this poll!! i will be posting a few extra chapters (and might have some polls for them 👀) over the next few weeks, but for the moment there isn't a planned sequel. i've been trying to actually write more and have a ton of ideas for a few new series, so look out for that! thank you all again!! 💗💗
taglist below!
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron obx#rafe outer banks#rafe obx#outer banks fanfic#obx fanfic#rafe cameron smau#rafe smau#obx smau#rafe cameron au#rafe au#rc#partners in lies fic
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Make Me Feel Something
pairing: wanda maximoff + y/n ( mentions of vision )
warnings: 18+, overstimulation, teasing, spit, fingering, lesbian, clit play
summary: when you share disappointing news with wanda about catching vision acting out behind her back, her anger spirals and she takes it out on you, but she has no idea of the wormhole of feelings she's just opened up
3.6k words
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“i didn’t need your help!”
wanda’s hand rockets towards you, jarring you square in the shoulder and nearly knocking you backwards. her other hand, dispelled in crimson swirls, sending the door behind herself slamming shut with such a force you swear the entire compound heard the commotion by now.
“-and what was i supposed to do,” you furrow your brows, perplexed, but with enough venom on your tongue to portray you have no intention of backing down, “not to tell you that i didn’t see your robotic boyfriend with some other woman?”
you stare back at wanda cross, but the bubbling hurt and anger only seems to swell behind green, flecks of red dancing like static in them momentarily.
“vision would never, he actually loves me unlike you spilling lies at me, you’re supposed to be my best friend! why would you make up something like this, out of jealousy?” she spits, seething at this point as she steps towards you in intimidation, though you know the reality of her nature is she would never actually lay a hand on you.
“you’re not thinking clearly,” you shake your head, sympathy laced in your tone, “even if i am lying, why would i do that knowing it would hurt you? do you think that low of me, wanda?” you can tell your words ring logic through her, she knows you would never do something or say something to intentionally hurt her, but right now she is too jaded to even remotely put herself first over another she loves, nothing unusual for her character.
wanda seems to hesitate, as if her initial counter to your question was not a substantial enough response. she can’t fight logic, not right now. her mind
behind it all, you know she’s hurting, reeling behind a fairytale of whom she saw as a lifelong partner now having deceived her.
yet, a part of you always saw this coming after all, he was just a construction of wires and vibranium. at some point his ‘brain’ would malfunction, and you didn’t merely assume that just based on your original disdain for him coming into wanda’s life.
“y/n, just go,” the words nearly sting, as selfish as that feels right now when really wanda is the only one with the right to feel anguish.
unknown to her that for years you’d sat, watching and observing her, silently mesmerized and foolishly in love with the idea that maybe one day wanda would come to terms that the idea of being with you would’ve been a more viable option over vision to begin with. it was torture enough watching them oggle over one another around the compound.
but now he’s the villain in the story, and it’s not exactly the prime moment to confess your feelings long hidden for her. no, it would be too selfish and look as if you were spinning her hurt into an opportunity. you know it would not be the ideal way to confess your deep desire you’ve held for her, imagining her like a high school crush and what it would be like to be loved in that way by her, instead of the friend pledged in loyalty to her.
“wands-“
“get the fuck out!” this time her words are the ones landing venomously, usually the innocence in the nickname grounds her, but not now. not today.
“i can’t just leave you-“
wanda lurches forward, reaching with brisk hostility to grab your upper arm in an attempt to drag you back to the door and out of her bedroom. but you’re quicker, your reflexes are more time– thanks to romanoff’s training. your fingers spool around her wrist, stopping the motion and catching her off guard, enough to send her tripping over herself.
“fuck- you-“ this time wanda’s voice cracks, a pant between each for her loss of balance and catching herself before she falls against you. you can hear the innocence and muddled hurt even under the harsh words. any sparks of red had dissipated from the green in her eyes, now overtaken by the rising swell of tears giving them a glassy aura.
your eyes flick to her mouth as the slur falls from her lips, it even looked unnatural coming from them and you certainly couldn’t bear to watch those tears fall. you’d seen her say those words before, but this time it was different. it wasn’t in jest, yet it wasn’t necessarily in hatred or true anger. the only place it was coming from was agony and the incomprehension of her own emotions right now.
she’d lost so much already, given so much of herself for those she cared about, it only made your heart wretch further. all you wanted to do was console her.
wanda was so inexplicably close to you right now, enough to feel the heat of her breath on your face. it made the hair at the base of your neck stand up, her scent overwhelming you. your thoughts only whirled further, flashes of knowing how in pain she was.
a mix of impulsivity and selfishness to give in to temptation was overwhelming. all you wanted right now was to try and take her pain away in any way possible right now. a distraction. but also a longing release of your own feelings for her. your thoughts swirl a million miles a minute, briefly forgetting about the current situation you’re in.
before you can comprehend your own thoughts, deciding between right and wrong, the heat of wanda’s breath recedes, replaced with a harsh and violent pressure against your lips. it takes you a moment to understand the situation, wanda’s lips now pressed feverishly against yours. there’s a swelling taste of salt and copper washing through your mouth. a mix of her tears, and a stray drop of blood from the newly opened cut on your bottom lip, caused by the velocity of your lip caught between hers and your teeth. her hands had cupped your face at the initial contact, black nails pressing into the back of your jaw as if you might slip away. it stings at first, but you let it be.
you have to break it, this isn’t right, this is wrong. wrong on so many levels. wanda’s heart was broken right now, and this seemed disingenuous.
but you also can’t ignore the immediate warmth that travels through your abdomen, feeling it spin in guilt but also reprieve for finally feeling wanda’s lips against yours that doesn’t stem from a drunken dare.
still, your mind temporarily outweighs your heart and body, and you jerk back, “wanda.. i can’t, th-this isn’t right.” you fumble over the words, almost trying to explain yourself for an action that you didn’t even initiate. meanwhile, sliding your tongue along your bottom lip to quell the sting and erase any last evidence of blood on the small cut.
“you want to make me forget, you want to help, you want this. so just shut up, and make me feel something else- please.” her tone is desperate, pleading, but also firm on where she stands.
your mouth falls agape, wanting to rebuttal, argue this isn’t how you want it to go, that you actually do love her. but now’s not the time, you can connect the dots that she’d already gotten this idea because she’d picked through your thoughts in that moment of silence where she couldn’t find her own words.
now you only had one thing you could do to actually help her in this moment- make her feel something else. her words, right? she was giving you approval.
wanda seeks the opportunity again, impatient and just as harsh with need. aside from the swelling guilt, you can’t help but indulge simultaneously. you can still taste the reminisce of a stray tear or two, but it’s begun to fade. she’s already begun to lose herself in the moment, letting every other thought leave her mind as she sought safety and pleasure in the only person she had left that she truly cared for.
you.
both of your feet are nearly tripping over the other, trying to walk backwards towards her bed as your hands finally give in, rising around the back of her neck. your fingers instantly tangle into locks of fiery orange, gripping just enough to encourage wanda to continue. and she does.
the room has already begun to envelope in a heavy heat, ragged and desperate breaths laced in a mix of emotions but ultimately indulged in the moment. the worry of guilt is still there, but now just a small pit in your stomach as her breathing hitches with each step and between barely audible moans.
wanda pressures you further until you’re both stood parallel to the bottom edge of the bed. you prepare for her to break the kiss when you feel her mouth fall slightly more agape. you want to ask her for reassurance, that this is okay.
before you can manage the words, wanda quickly presses her tongue between your parted lips, not hesitating to explore along your own, running hers along the roof of your mouth. you almost feel embarrassed at the amount of saliva welling up in your mouth and hers, but she only swallows it back hungrily.
a twisting thought wonders if wanda had fantasized this in someway, especially by the speed of her actions, seeming to barely think twice. was there a part of her who had wanted this as well?
the guilt seems void right now, replaced by a thrumming heat gathering between your thighs. wanda seems entirely awash in lust, both your tongues taking turns exploring one another’s mouths.
this time you make your move before wanda can. your hands abandon her hair, quickly working off her jacket, allowing her to shrug it to the floor between kisses as you begin to pull at the bottom hem of her shirt. this time she’s pulls away, but only enough for you to allow space to pull her shirt up and over her head. at first, she doesn’t jump back into the kiss, allowing herself to catch her breath as her hands reach behind her back. it takes you only a second to comprehend.
you had tried not to stare, but as wanda reaches for the strap of her bra to unhook it, you take a second to take in the sight. her breasts perfectly fill the cups of the black bra. it’s simple, no lace or embroidery, just black silk cotton, and still she makes it look like an expensive garment.
in a heartbeat, everything in your face runs cold, as she slips her bra from her shoulders and lets it fall to the ground. you can’t help but indulge now. you’d inappropriately fantasized about wanda’s body before, especially her breasts when she wore that one corset, but having her exposed and vulnerable in front of you felt entirely on another plane of existence.
her nipples are a perfect tone of rosey-pink, already perky and hardened from what you can only assume is arousal considering you were already both panting from the desperation in the previous kisses.
you can’t stop yourself, you raise a hand, palm cupping the under of her breast and swiping a thumb over the hardened bud. when the action elicits a shy moan from wanda, it nearly makes you groan in approval as the heat between your legs surmounts with need. “wanda..”
“keep going- i promise, it’s okay, y/n-“ she manages as she seems to adjust herself so that her one breast is flush in your palm now, garnering another subtle moan from the sensitivity.
you realize this moment is truly going to be all about wanda. not you, even despite the ache between your legs, but honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way tonight. you had dreamt of wanda desiring you in this way and now she was explicitly asking you.
“i’ll take care of you,” you hold her eyes with yours as you gently readjust you both so that the back of her knees are against the bed, “just can i ask one thing from you?”
wanda wants to question you, you can tell by the faint look of confusion, but she only nods.
“stay standing until you can’t…” even in the dimming light of the room from the sun beginning to set, you swear you can see the faint flush of red in her cheeks as you slightly lower yourself just enough to get your mouth level with her breasts.
wanda gives you a single nod, her hips shifting leading you to assume she’s become as aroused as you are now. for a moment, as she’s looking down to you, you swear you saw the shadow of a nervous smile. you hold her gaze for a moment as you take one of her nipples into your mouth, using a hand to palm and massage the other abandoned breast.
wanda nearly crumbles at just that, it’s been too long since she’s been touched like this, but she remains upright.
her head lolls back, a strained “y/n..” falling from her lips in a sultry moan that only encourages you to continue.
you suck at her nipple, occasionally using your teeth to graze the sensitive tissue. your hand stays busy, switching between massaging her breast in your palm and using your thumb to tease the nipple.
wanda is rather shy for the time being, you can tell she’s trying to hide any roll in her hips, desperate for friction where she needs it most. her moans are still barely audible, but they’re there as you make sure to alternate each breast fairly.
your free hand massages up her thigh gingerly, following along her pelvis until you stop to work at the button and zipper of her jeans. you’ve been careful to take your time, but not enough to drive her mad just yet.
when you pull your mouth away from her breast along with the other hand, you could’ve sworn you heard the faintest whimper. it satisfies you for a moment knowing how indulged wanda is, and how tentative you’re being with her body.
“why…” wanda manages, but you don’t give her a response. instead, you fully lower yourself, the hand previously working at her jeans now slides the zipper down fully.
“oh…” she manages, chin dropping to watch you get on your knees as you begin to shimmy her jeans down, not hesitating to bring her panties down along with them.
the denim and a pair of black underwear, falls to a clump around her ankles, her legs breaking into an array of goosebumps at her now exposed lower body. as she begins to step out of the restrictive clothing at her feet, you take the opportunity to look at her face for one last vow of approval.
“yes…” wanda’s lips are barely parted, the cold on her mound making her ache even further, “please, y/n… i promise it’s okay.,”
as if offering further permission, she carefully adjusts her legs enough to just leave ample room for you to glimpse her pussy. she’s still standing in place, knees against the bed just in case they give out as your attention finally shifts to where she needs you most.
you nearly feel the immediate gush between your thighs as you settle onto your knees, now seeing the true picture of desperation.
wanda’s folds are quite swollen, the tip of her clit just barely peaking out between them, this time you can’t stifle the groan at the sight before you. her slick is painted perfectly along her slit, a bead of it daring to fall at the back of her pussy.
you hungrily lean in, want and temptation over powering anything else now as your body drives you. wanda attempts to brace herself, feeling the heat of your breath against her core as your tongue immediately darts out to lap up the string of slick at her entrance. you barely have a moment to adjust before she cries out from sudden sensitivity. it’s been quite some time for her since she’d been touched like this. vision had long seemed to distance himself, they’d barely shared any intimacy of the sort around the compound in a month or two.
wanda’s knees immediately buckle as her hips rocket forward involuntarily, painting your mouth with her slick as her clit ruts against your nose, “oh– fuck, y/n!”
hearing wanda cry out your name like that only spurs you on further. you’d anticipated teasing her, making her wait, but now it’s you who can’t after tasting her.
both of your hands shoot up, fingers splaying against the crux of where her thighs meet her pelvis and thumbs delving between wet folds to fully expose her pussy.
wanda can only react with a string of weak whines, a hand of hers shooting down and fisting into your hair to guide you to where she wants you most. you only oblige, spurred on by the visual of her swollen clit before it’s pressed flat to your tongue.
“fuck!” wanda rolls her hips, encouragingly as her shy moans turn into a slur of expletives and gasps as she rakes her clit over your tongue with each movement and tug of your hair.
her taste is overwhelming, already beginning to saturate your face as she fucks herself against it. you can’t help but moan into her, which sends vibrations along her slit that only makes her drag her entire length along your mouth now, “fuck, yes- you’re doing so good…” she swallows roughly as her head tips back, “make me feel only you, y/n.”
you’d fantasized this moment for a few years now, and the reality of now coming true has you in a chokehold. one of your hands abandons her thigh, eagerly using your ring and middle finger to press between her folds. within a second, her wetness coats your fingers, pressing them deeper until your just brushing against her entrance.
without warning you delve both fingers into her, and wanda immediately loses her balance. the one hand you have at her thigh catches her, allowing her to regain some composure as you withdraw your fingers, only to thrust back into the cling of her walls.
wanda cries out, her head falling back feeling weightless in her stomach and knees. a good portion of her weight is seated in your palm, the only thing keeping her upright at this point. she’s tight around you as your curl your fingertips to touch at the soft spot that makes her stomach flutter. she can barely manage anything coherent between gasps and whining moans from the slight sting.
you can already feel wanda chasing her climax. with each thrust of your fingers, her clit slams against the bottom of your palm. it sends her body in near convulsions as her legs tremble as she grows closer to release.
the sound of how wet she is sends you into a frenzy, your fingers diving deeper and more quickly into her pussy. the entirety of your palm has begun to become wet from her slick, beginning to lose friction of her clit as your fingers dare to slip out each time.
“wanda– cum for me now,” you manage as you readjust your hand more upright, not hesitating as you lean in to drag your tongue across her swollen clit. the taste of her makes you feverish for more. it’s a perfect balance of her sweetness and slight salt.
wanda immediately buckles, a slur of expletives as the heat in her stomach rises as your tongue continues to rake viciously against her clit, your fingers driving in and out of her. it takes only a few more seconds before she completely unravels. her walls snap tightly around your fingers as she falls to her knees, being unable to catch her in time, you only help her to the ground.
her hands fall beside her, bracing on the floor as her hips just upwards and as her head falls backwards onto the edge of the bed. your fingers feel slightly sore from her tightness, her pussy fully exposed in front of you as her knees are spread as she sits in front of you. the carpet beneath her garners a small wet stain as she lets her release paint over your hand and down to the ground.
“y/n– that… i’m so sorry,” wanda pants out with remorse as her body settles, you withdraw your fingers quickly, not disingenuously, wiping them on your leg to be able to cup her face as she lowers her head back to look at you. there’s a bit of regret behind her eyes, and she notices the flash of worry, “no– no, you didn’t do anything. i just don’t want you to think i took advantage of you,” wanda’s body relaxes more, beads of sweat on her skin as she sits naked in front of you, apologizing for something that she has no need to.
“wanda, you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that with you,” you look at her sheepishly, and she somewhat offers a smile back to you.
“we’re not done then…” she manages, now looking at you reassuringly, “let me take care of you.”
you look at her, nearly stunned as her hands reach to pull you back into her. “wanda- what about vis-
“no, nothing about him right now, please,” she shifts, her face growing closer to yours, “let that be tomorrow’s problem. let me enjoy you and i tonight, we will worry about tomorrow when it comes.”
you hesitate, but only flash her a toothy smile out of helplessness. if this is what she wants, even after the exhausting outpour of emotions, it gives you the necessary reassurance that wanda wants you in some capacity as well.
so you let her.
#marvel#wanda maximoff x yn#wanda maximoff x y/n#y/n#wanda maximoff x reader#scarlet witch x you#scarlet witch x reader#wandamaximilfposts#wanda maximoff smut#marvel smut#scarlet witch smut#wanda maximoff x fem!reader#fem!reader#scarlet witch x fem!reader#scarlet witch#wanda maximoff
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I am tired of liberals finding this post and yelling at me for getting Trump elected. I will attempt to put my thoughts together concisely.
First point: there is some mythmaking that Kamala did everything she could to win and the American public failed her and the Democrats. This is an inaccurate recasting of history. From the very beginning, Harris's internal polling showed that she was losing this election. You can come up with whatever excuses you want for why that is, but the point stands that she had a losing strategy that she knowingly committed to.
This USA Today article references the Pod Save America Podcast where Kamala's staff talks about this:
Second point: there is mythmaking that she simply had no winning strategy that she could find other than courting Republicans, because she was already too far left to get elected. This is inaccurate and we can see what voters wanted to vote for. I'm not going to go over every example, but I will point to a representative one. I don't think it's controversial to say that a major reason that Kamala lost Michigan is because of her hardline stance on supporting Israel's genocide of the Palestinians. Her strategy was to send Bill Clinton to yell at them to fall in line. Yet those voters didn't abandon Democrats for the Right because we still saw them vote for Rashida Talib. If Democrats wanted more people to vote for them, they could have met the voting base on the matters that they were asking for.
Here's an interesting article from some indie progressive new outlet that goes over some more progressive wins that got the votes that Kamala failed to find:
Third and most irritatingly, people are still mythologizing that third party voters voting for Jill Stein or whoever should have fallen in line and just voted for Democrats to stop Trump. I will acknowledge that it is absurd to demand that random people behave more Machiavellian than the literal politicians to mitigate harm, but that's a conversation for another time. We need to remember that Kamala didn't lose narrowly; she lost everything. She lost every relevant battleground state, and these losses were not due to third party voters.
Michigan: Lost by 80,103 votes. Jill Stein only got 44,607. Even if you give her Cornel West's votes, that's only another 6,664.
Wisconsin: Lost by 29.397 votes. Jill Stein and Cornel West only "stole" 15,028.
Nevada: Lost by 46,008 votes. No one voted Stein or West, but "None of the above" only got 19,625.
Arizona: Lost by 187,382 votes. Stein got 18,319.
Georgia: Lost by 115,100 votes. Stein found 18,229.
Pennsylvania: Lost by 120,266 votes. Stein got 24,538.
These are all states that Biden was able to win in 2020. I need people to understand that Kamala lost this election and it wasn't even close. The Green Party didn't steal it from her. Non-Voting Progressives didn't fail her. She lost so badly that they can't even convincingly run the normal "progressives abandoned us" playbook. They abandoned their own base and traded it for a handful of Liz Cheneys.
My issue with Liberal Electoralism is a desperate belief in the power of the individual voter. I get the impulse to think 'what could WE have done differently,' but ultimately it's not on 'us.' Democrats did not want to win this election, so it is silly to blame the people who pointed out the reasons they were going to lose as it happens.
So yeah I stand by my position. Go donate burritos to unhoused folks. It will do more good than yelling at people for not voting for Kamala. Mostly because the people that you're yelling at probably did still vote 'strategically' for Kamala and still saw her eat shit. Democrats aren't going to save you.
In conclusion vote if you want to. I don't care. But remember that the situation we are in was chosen by the power structures and not by the people who are criticizing them.
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My bed seems more comfortable than normal today, warmer. Even if the alarm from my phone blares, I aim to stay in this warm hug of comfort. Yet, instead, I’m reminded by the low groan behind me that I gained a companion from last night's biweekly trip to the dive bar my friends forced me to go to.
I reach over to my phone, stopping the alarm, not just snoozing it as I normally do, but as I move to begin my day, a strong, warm set of arms keep me in place, “I need to get up, ya dope.” I get a noncommittal groan as a response, along with a kiss placed on the juncture of my neck and shoulder, as well as his arms tightening their grip onto my waist.
“Let me go ya’ fucker, I gotta get ready for my shift.” I say as I try to wiggle my way free from his calloused hands.
“S’not what ya called me last night, birdie,” the man responds, leaving a beat of silence before continuing, “Or did I fuck you too stupid for you to remember my name?” his deep voice rumbles out, a light chuckle accompanying his words as I freeze up in realization. “Stay and cuddle, love, you got time.”
“You pointing out that I might not know your name like you haven't referred to me as two different nicknames, I feel like you don’t know my name!” I state, returning to me trying to get out of his grip, and as I think I finally am about to get free, he let me go only after whispering out my name. Due to me having moved against his grip and him letting me go, on top of him whispering out my name, I ended up sprawled on the floor.
“C’mon y/n, you think that lowly of me?” his deep voice sings out my name like the call of a siren, he sits up in bed, still in shadow due to my blackout curtains keeping the sun’s rays from view. All I see is his bulking silhouette, I can feel his hot gaze staring down at me, messy hair, naked body, blushing face and all, even in the darkness of my room.
I jolt myself up from my position, and rush into my bathroom, lightly slamming the door behind me. I hear from my room a genuine belly laugh from the man. I hold my face in my hands for a moment as I stand there in the darkness of my bathroom, contemplating how I ended up in this embarrassing situation. Thinking over the previous night's moments, I flick on the overhead lights and turn on my shower.
I look over my body in the mirror, hickeys, love bites, and bruises cover many parts of my body. Hips have his handprints ingrained into them, neck has a few bitemarks and hickeys covering them, as does my chest. As the room begins to fill with steam, more of the night's activities come to mind as I look over his markings.
I mindlessly step into the shower, giving my body respite for the coldness I gained leaving his grip. The heat streams down my body, and my autopilot kicks in as I lose myself in remembering the order of events.
Soft brown eyes stealing glances from across the bar.
Face covered in a mask, momentarily moved for a sip from his dark amber colored glass.
Laughs around me, friends asking the same questions yet he keeps my attention.
A drink appears in front of me, mirroring his own. I look at him again, a nod from him, a nod from me.
We ended up in the bathroom at first. Lips clashing like a hate-fucking-ex-couple. Patrons filing in to do their business, ignoring our two sets of feet in the stall we nabbed. “This is a bit dingy, innit love?” He says to me between stealing my breath away.
“I live close by, with a large bed, and no roommates.” I responded back as I continued our addictive motions.
Pushed up against the not so clean stall wall, held up with ease. His lips feel slightly rough, but still plush, moving against mine as if we have done it before. As he finally lets go, his chocolate eyes bore into me with heated intensity. A string of our mixed saliva connects us. He gives me a toothy grin, lips curled upwards, the scars around them, mixed with his patchy stubble makes me want to just lean back in and continue our semi silent conversation.
I am broken from my recollection as the bathroom door opens, the shampoo was just being rinsed from my hair. A slight hesitation comes from him, as if he is worried he is about to overstep, but still is hoping for something. “S’alright for me to join you?” his voice almost whispers out, just barely heard above the rushing water of the shower.
“Yes love, c’mere.” I say, the last of my shampoo finally running free from my locks.
“Now who’s using nicknames?” I feel him step in behind me as I face the showerhead. His warm and bulking figure moves close to me, warming my back up the way it had while we were entangled this morning.
I turned to face him, looking into those brown eyes that first caught my attention last night. “S’only fair… ain’t that right Simon.” As the warm water streams down our bodies together. That same toothy grin from last night paints his face. It’s almost lopsided, almost like his face isn’t used to doing it. But my god if I can’t keep making him smile, I might kneel over and pass on.
“I guess you needed a minute, knew I fucked myself too far into your brain, love” His large hands reach up to cup my cheeks, pulling me into another sickly sweet kiss. I don’t think I can let this end, not when he holds me like glass and his lips feel like the sun is finally shining.
#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#call of duty#reader insert#ghost x reader#first time posting fanfiction here#ooc#my bad on that#might work on it further but no promises#fanfic#fanfiction#simon riley x reader
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Hi, my name is Vince (aka Mochizuki Hajime). I am an LGBT Asian Latino man. I am saving up money to support me leaving my toxic home. I am deeply depressed living here, and much of my anatomy as a person is taken from me. I will have to rebuild my life from the beginning, and I really will need any help that I can get.
I can only accept money through c.app right now; $primaveral. I can draw, code, or make web graphics for payment. Art examples here, and web design examples here.
Thank you for everything. Take care. ౿ ׂ ִ 𓏲𝄢 ˖°
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A cabin in the woods.To live everything behind and find the much needed peace and quiet that is often associated with this new lifestyle,at first sound idyllic and beautiful but if you don’t have a plan on what to do after the initial move you might begin to experience what is often called cabin fever.If you were the ones that built the cabin is great that means you did your homework, but if didn’t you got much to probably change and fix.Well,keeping a dairy of your daily routine will make you feel more productive as you go through the changes with each season.If you are a country bumpkin you know exactly what I mean.But if you are a city slicker,I suggest you take a new habit to keep your sanity during the rainy season ,I took bird carving as I had plenty of wood to work from and as I got better and later could profit from this pastime, also as it is common to happen to first time cabin that after a few months of living and getting used to the wild animals and creatures of the night,your mind might switch to rogue comando,haaaa and stay up some nights walk around the perimeter of your cabin at 3:00 AM , just to check a weird sound. But no worries ,it will pass too. My advice would be to learn to meditate and practice meditation,or book reading. Well, more about it later. Words by Sergio GuymanProust.
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#a cabin in the woods and some sound advice.#forestscape#words by sergio guymanproust#beautiful place#credit to the blogger&photographer.#inspiration#bosque#forest#nature#world beauty#beautiful#beautiful planet#read and share#read and enjoy#read and understand about this lifestyle#not everyone is cutout for this lifestyle#carry a log of daily activities#learn meditation
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The is the Beginning [3/?]
Summary: You never thought you'd be able to escape Buggy, and yet, a boy with a straw hat, a man with three swords and a girl with orange hair somehow manage to free you. The journey that follows afterwards is your chance at freedom and maybe something more.
A One Piece Live Action Rewrite
Part One - Part Two - Part Three
Pairing: Live Action!Zoro Roronoa x F!Reader
TW for this chapter: canon typical violence, jealous!zoro, self-depricating talk, angst but fluff too! & Sanji content because I love him
Word Count: 10,710
A/N: I am so excited for this chapter. Literally so much happens in this chapter and AHHH I hope you all enjoy <3
Tag List: @emmaiscool22 - @bethleeham - @veryunoriginal - @sun-rae04 - @medievalfangirl
Chapter Three - Together
“Did you just call that guy grandpa?”
Mouth still left parted in shock, you stare at the back of Luffy’s head, waiting for him to answer Zoro’s question. Or, at the very least, clarify what exactly he meant by calling the Vice Admiral of the Marine Corps grandpa—because surely he was not actually related to your captain; your captain of a pirate crew.
Though, you’re at a loss to think of what else Luffy could have possibly meant.
Meeting Zoro’s gaze, the two of you stood directly behind Luffy, his expression matching your own.
“Hit the deck!”
You barely have time to register Usopp’s warning, only seeing something black and something very much like a cannon heading straight your way, before arms are grabbing you and pulling you down. You’re tucked into a chest, your own arms coming to protect yourself as you try to ignore the ache the sudden movement pulls on your stitches.
The rumble of the cannon hitting the ship fades, and slowly, you pull away, meeting Zoro’s gaze first, realizing then he’d been the one to pull you down (you don’t have time to think about how that makes you feel), before both of your gazes fall on the broken fence of your ship deck.
Pressing a hand to your waist, you move to stand, Zoro shuffling back to give you room. He offers a hand, to which you take, letting him help pull you up to your own feet.
“Everybody okay?” Luffy calls, and your eye falls on him in front of you.
“I think so,” Nami calls back, breathless. Both her and Usopp were further back from the explosion, up on the helm deck.
“No,” Usopp cries, popping up beside her. “Not okay. Not even close to okay.”
You shake your head, trying to ignore your own panic that’s bubbling inside of you. “We need to do something,” you urge, facing back towards the marine ship. “They’re just gonna keep shooting at us until we sink.”
Meeting your gaze briefly, Luffy nods. “Usopp!” He calls, pointing directly at the marine ship and his grandpa. “Fire back at them!”
“Or how about we sail away as fast as we can?” Usopp offers.
Luffy turns to look at him, looking bewildered that he’d even offered the idea. But Nami only extends a hand towards Usopp, clearly in agreement.
“Run from the Marines?” Luffy breathes, “no. Never! Nami, trim the… the sail thing. Let’s sink their ship.”
Usopp, probably despite his own fear, comes to meet Luffy with the cannon ammo.
“You want to sink a marine ship?” You echo in disbelief. “That’s… insane.”
“Not to mention, we don’t have time!” Nami argues, “they’re stealing our wind. If they pull up alongside us, we’re finished.”
Luffy just ignores her. “You’re the navigator. Do something.”
Turning to her, she meets your gaze. You offer a helpless shrug.
Nami huffs. “Zoro,” she calls, shifting her gaze past you. “Sheet in and hard to port! Y/N, stay there and don’t get more hurt.”
Feeling useless, you huff, but listen to Nami regardless. You knew you’d only pay worse if you didn’t.
“You know how to load a cannon?” Luffy asks Usopp, who chuckles nonchalantly in return.
You seriously doubt that.
“Yeah, of course. I’ve loaded thousands of them.” Almost as soon as he says that, he hesitates with the cannon in hand. “Uh, this just must be a different model than I’m used to.”
Huffing, you shuffle forward. “Load the cannon in the barrel,” you explain, pointing at the barrel as he turns to look at you helplessly. “Light the fuse and then get out of the way.”
Nodding at you, he shuffles forward, moving to the front of the cannon. Only, before he can load the barrel, he drops all the cannons in his hands.
“Usopp!”
Eyes widening, you rush forward to help, but Luffy holds a hand out to you, shaking his head as he moves to run after Usopp and the cannons which have gone down the stairs.
Pressing a hand to your forehead, you sigh.
“We’re so gonna die.”
-
Somehow, you don’t die.
After Luffy somehow manages to deflect a cannon with his belly, Nami quickly makes the five of you disappear into the thick of the fog. The second you’d gotten away, Luffy had crawled up to the bow and taken a seat. He hadn’t said a word since.
Nami had taken to steering, and since she was probably the most qualified person, you’d left her to it. You instead decide to lean against the railing, letting your eyes stay focused on the back of Luffy.
It wasn’t like him to be quiet, and you had no doubt it had something to do with the fact that his grandpa had nearly just destroyed his ship and killed him and all his friends. With how Luffy was, you figured he probably hadn’t come to terms with that reality yet and he would probably continue to ignore it until forced to otherwise.
“How’s the ship looking?”
Inhaling sharply, you glance over your shoulder, eye falling on Zoro as he shakes his head at Nami. “Broken railing,” he answers, “minor damage. Could’ve been a lot worse.”
Nami rolls her eyes; “could’ve been better.”
“Can’t see the Marines anywhere,” Usopp assures.
“Can’t see anything in this soup,” Nami corrects. “What we need is a place to lay low, wait out any reinforcements they send after us. My charts are useless in this fog.”
Zoro nods. “What did Luffy say?”
You sigh; “he’s on the bow,” you point ahead of yourself. “He hasn’t said anything since we hightailed it. I’m…” Hesitating, you chance one glance at his back before turning back to the three. “I’m worried about him.”
“Somebody needs to talk to him,” Nami says. “About this and that other thing.”
Zoro frowns. “What other thing?”
“Oh gee, I wonder,” Nami says, obviously sarcastic.
The expression on Zoro’s face tells you he really doesn’t know what.
“The Vice-Admiral-of-the-Marines-is-my-grandfather-thing.” Nami explains, looking at you all like it’s obvious.
You offer a shrug; “I’m confused too… but it feels wrong to interrogate him about it. Especially after the guy tried to kill us.”
Nami just blinks over at you.
“Yeah…” Usopp drawls, “I don’t really know the guy that well, so…”
Zoro nods; “doesn’t seem like a big deal.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that it isn’t a big deal…” You say tentatively, wary of Nami’s reaction and unable to deny the curiosity you feel. It did beg questions and it was a little wrong that Luffy had chosen not to tell any of you. “I just don’t know…”
Nami hesitates a moment, before shaking her head, turning to Zoro. “You’re his first mate,” he reminds, “kind of seems like that falls under your job description, hmm?”
He glances at you and Usopp, probably hoping one of you will do it instead of him. Usopp sends him a sheepish smile, holding the straps of his overalls and rocking on his feet, making his answer clear. When Zoro meets your gaze, you press a hand to your waist and smile nervously; “I’m injured?”
You were worried, but you also had no idea how to breach a conversation like that with Luffy of all people.
It’s obviously an excuse, but Zoro doesn’t argue. With a blink, he turns; “fine.”
You watch him leave, before meeting Nami’s gaze.
“You’re aware that Zoro is probably the worst person to check in on Luffy, right?” You raise a brow, “no way he’s actually gonna find anything out.”
Sighing dramatically, Nami presses her forehead to the helm.
Sure enough, a minute later Zoro comes back, shrugging; “seems fine to me.”
“Did you even ask him?”
Before Zoro can respond, if he even was going to, Luffy suddenly stands; “hey!” Pausing, he sniffs, raising his finger. “You guys smell that?”
Your brows furrow. “Smell what?”
Luffy’s quiet for a moment, taking in the air, before he breathes out; “there’s something on the breeze.” Sniffing again, his eyes widen. “Smells like butter. Soy sauce. And meat.”
He grins back at the four of you.
“I can’t smell anything,” Usopp frowns, moving towards Luffy. He seems almost disappointed he can’t smell anything.
“Think he has brain damage?” Zoro asks you and Nami.
Nami huffs, crossing her arms; “I think that every day.”
You let out a nervous laugh.
“Look, Luffy,” Usopp scratches his head. “Playing follow the smell is fun and all, but we really got to get out of this fog.”
“I know,” he calls back, “but I smell food, which means that there’s someone somewhere cooking.”
-
You’ll never doubt Luffy’s nose again.
Turns out what he was smelling was a whole restaurant, and without having anywhere else to go and needing food, you’d all decided to dock there and get something to eat. Luffy and Usopp had been roaring to go the second the ship docked, barely able to stand still, which made Nami eager to get off the boat just so she didn’t have to deal with two idiots. You’re pretty excited yourself, but just as the ship docked, you’d noticed a bit of red on your shirt. You very quickly deduced it was your wound and obviously, after the excitement of nearly being hit by a cannon, you’d aggravated your stitches.
“You sure you don’t need help?” Nami frowns, hesitating to follow Luffy and Usopp off the ship. Zoro was hanging by the plank too, you couldn’t help but notice. He wasn’t offering to stay, of course, but he seemed concerned.
Shaking your head from the thought, you smile at Nami. “Positive.” You assure, sending her a thumbs up. “I just gotta change the bandage and my shirt and I’ll meet you guys there. Just let the host know I’m coming.”
Hovering for only a moment longer, Nami nods. “You can borrow one of my shirts again,” she offers. “Remind me next time we’re on an island to get you some clothes. When we’re not being chased by Marines.”
You laugh, nodding at her and turning to head to your and Nami’s shared room. You pause, however, when your eye catches Zoros’ once again. He looks like he wants to say something, and for some reason you find you can’t offer anything in return. It takes Nami, who’d seen the rather obvious and embarrassing display, to grab Zoro by the arm and pull him with her to get either of you to move.
Cheeks burning, you rush down to the room, trying to ignore the flutter of your chest or the nerves flooding through your entire body.
Seriously, it was starting to get too much. Before, you’d at least be able to brush it off as being intimidated by Zoro since he was, well, a pretty intimidating guy. But since the whole Kuro incident and you getting hurt, every time Zoro’s eyes seemed to fall on you, that narrowed and heavy gaze lightened into something soft. It was hard to ignore or not let get to you when he’d already made you all hot and flustered before.
He was attentive in a way you hadn’t experienced or expected from him. Everyone had been worried when you’d gotten hurt. You distinctly remember being surprised by how bothered Nami had seemed by it and even Usopp, who you’d just met, had checked in on you. But Zoro? Zoro had been concerned in a whole other way. Rather than just asking you or checking in like Luffy had, he’d hovered. He stayed near when Kaya had cleaned and stitched your wound for you, helping you walk there and then back to the ship even when you assured you were fine.
You’d never had someone so worried about you, let alone a man you were clearly attracted to.
You didn’t know if Zoro had any idea of what he was doing to you, but he was killing you. Your heart was always racing when he was near, which was always, and he made you feel like a fumbling fool, mind short-circuiting to the point of silliness whenever his eyes fell on you.
You’d never forget what he’d said about your eye. How he’d made you feel about it. Luffy and Nami had been endearing too, you would never deny that, but Zoro had spoken up first. And the look on his face…
Pressing your hands to your cheeks, you try to cool the heat you feel and your racing mind. This was silly. You were being silly. Zoro was just being nice and he probably just saw what a helpless fool you were and felt pity. There was nothing more to it.
Zoro was a strong swordsman, a renowned bounty hunter and Luffy’s first mate and you were… you.
Swallowing thickly, you sit down at the desk in your and Nami’s shared room, pulling up your shirt and glancing down. As expected, your wound has bled through your bandage. Momentarily, you worry that you’ve ripped your stitches, but the second you pull the bandage off, you’re assured that isn’t the case. You clearly just aggravated the wound and, pausing to clean the blood and apply the salve Kaya had given you, you place a new bandage on.
You take a moment more to find a shirt to wear, thankful Nami was being so generous with her clothing. You could tell the girl took her fashion seriously and you felt bad enough borrowing her clothes, but now you were ruining them with blood. You’d have to make it up to her somehow.
Cleaned with a new bandage on, you smile to yourself, feeling your stomach rumble almost as if reminding you.
Without a second more of hesitation, you make your way up and off the Going Merry. The Baratie is buzzing with people and you can’t help but let your gaze wander across the millions of different people going on with their lives, each in their own world. You continue to do so until you find the front entrance to the restaurant, and with a simple explanation to the host that you were here with friends and a small description of some friends, you’re led to the table.
You pause, however, when you realize the waiter is already taking your friends’ order.
The host leaves your side and with only a second more of hesitation, you make your way to the table, not having realized you’d taken so long.
“Do I still have time to place an order?”
Everyone's eyes fall on you at your question, and coming to a stop on the left of the waiter, right in front of Zoro. You frown when you notice the tense look on his face, concerned, but before you can ask, your captain is beaming at your arrival.
“Y/N!” Luffy calls, grinning. “You’re just in time! I ordered one of everything for us!”
You shouldn’t be surprised, but his words still pull a laugh from your lips. Of course Luffy would order the entire menu.
“I didn’t know I would be greeted by two beautiful maidens today. And one with such an infectious laugh.”
Freezing, it takes you a second to realize that the words had come from the waiter and that he was talking to you. Eyes widening, you turn to him, meeting his eyes with your left one, only to see him smiling at you. One hand is shoved into the pocket of his dress pants as he turns towards you with a certain suaveness.
Cheeks warming in embarrassment, your hands rise. “Oh, I—”
But before you can finish, the waiter is taking your left hand in his, pulling it up to his lips and pressing a kiss there. No longer just warm, your cheeks burn.
“Such beautiful eyes too, madam,” he grins, “I’ll never forget either of them.”
You’re hyper aware of the fact that your entire crew is watching this happen and that you’re standing there, gaping like a fish. You’ve never had anyone flirt with you, especially not someone so… persistent.
The waiter continues to stare back at you, never once looking upset by your lack of response.
An achingly long minute passes.
“Y/N.”
You don’t even have time to turn to Zoro at him calling your name before you feel hands fall on your hips, tugging you forward. A small yelp leaves your lips in response, stunned stupid, as Zoro pulls you in front of him, practically on his lap for a brief second, your hand slipping from the waiter's grip. Zoro moves you so you’re sat next to him, in between him and Nami who sends you a knowing smirk as you try to ignore your racing heart and flaming cheeks.
“Oi,” the waiter calls before you can, again, say anything. “Don’t be so rough with her.”
Zoro glares right at him. “Don’t be so handsy,” he growls back, not missing a beat. “Y/N doesn’t even know you.”
“She can get to know me,” the waiter challenges, curling a brow at your swordsman before his eyes shift back to you. “I’m sorry our introduction got interrupted, my name is Sanji. It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N.”
You’re sure you look as stupid as you feel.
“N-Nice to meet you too, Sanji,” you echo back, voice small.
Sanji grins just as Zoro leans forward, cutting you off from view. “Shouldn’t you be getting our food and drinks? The ones we ordered, waiter?”
The smile on Sanji’s face tenses, but he holds back whatever he clearly wants to say to Zoro, side stepping to meet your eyes once again. “Certainly, but first… what would you like, madam? Water like your lovely friend or something else? A sweet wine, perhaps? I can recommend some to you.”
You meet Nami’s eyes who just scoffs, obviously having received similar attention as you were now.
“Water,” you squeak. “Like her.”
“Not sparkling? Mineral? Ice or no?”
“Just water,” you nod, noticing the tick in Zoro’s jaw.
“Coming right up, Y/N,” he winks at you, smirking, before he turns away.
Silence follows, thick and heavy.
“Don’t worry,” Nami is the first to break the ice, lightly nudging you. “He was the same with me.”
Usopp snickers next to her, meeting your eye; “looks like you and Nami have got a boyfriend.”
Rolling her eyes, Nami just laughs quietly to herself. “Yeah, well, I don’t think it’s me we should be worried about.” Her eyes shift to Zoro, as does everyones, even Luffy who looks a bit lost, and finally, you turn to look at him too.
Your cheeks are still warm with embarrassment, mainly from Sanji’s flirting, but also the way Zoro had grabbed you. It wasn’t that you minded, because really, you didn’t, but—what the hell was that?
Meeting her gaze, arms crossed over his chest, Zoro huffs; “I’m fine.”
“Sure,” Nami drawls, smirking.
“I never seen you so angry, Zoro,” Usopp teases, grinning ear to ear. “Jealous?” He sings the word, wiggling his brows at the swordsman as you sink into your seat further.
“Of a waiter?” Zoro scoffs, careful not to glance your way. “Of course not.”
You don’t fail to notice the fact that he hadn’t denied he’d been jealous because of you.
With a little bit more laughter, the conversation drifts off as Luffy starts to ramble about the food. Once the attention is thoroughly off you and Zoro, you turn to him.
“Are you okay?” You ask in a soft voice, concerned and perhaps wanting to know more about why he’d done what he had.
Finally turning to look at you, you watch as Zoro swallows thickly. “Fine,” he says gruffly and you flinch, frowning. Seeing your reaction, Zoro sighs. “Just didn’t like the way he touched you…”
He says it with a grumble, and if you hadn’t been right next to him, you wouldn’t have heard it.
Lips parting, you blink; “oh.”
“No guy should touch you like that.” He adds.
You turn to him but he’s already looked away, clearly done with the conversation.
You can’t help but think to yourself, however, that he’d touched you like that.
And that you liked it.
-
“So… how long do you think the owner will make Luffy work for him?”
You glance up at your friends at your own question, curious. Instead of mirrored curiosity staring back at you, you find blank faces instead.
Frowning, you huff. “Is no one concerned?” You ask, genuinely worried. “We all ate that food… and he’s the one working for it.”
“I didn’t eat,” Zoro shrugs, “I just drank some beer.”
You glower at him.
Turning to Usopp, you hope maybe he’ll say something. Of course, he doesn’t and instead, he continues to slurp up the fancy fruity cock-tail drink he’d ordered, promptly avoiding your eye. You already know that Nami won’t be any help since she seemed rather hurt by Luffy lying about his grandpa, and while you couldn’t fault her for being hurt, you were frustrated at all of their lack of concerns.
Sighing, you push yourself to a stand, taking a step forward. Zoro catches you by the wrist before you make it two full steps.
“Where are you going?”
You glance down at him. “To find Luffy,” you gesture forward, as if the answer should’ve been obvious. Which it should’ve. “I don’t feel like drinking or…” You let your eyes drag across the bustling crowd of the bar. “...dancing. Maybe I can talk the owner into going easy on him.”
You go to do that, except, Zoro still doesn’t let go of your wrist.
“We should probably stick together,” Zoro says, never taking his eyes off of you. “In case the Marines come.”
You shake your head, pulling at his grip. He lets go easy, but the frown on his face makes it clear he’s annoyed by your persistence. “I’ll be fine,” you brush off his concern. “The worst thing I’ll be doing is washing some dishes, I reckon.”
Zoro looks like he wants to argue, but it’s clear he isn’t sure how.
You just sigh; “stay and relax. I’ll be fine.”
And then you turn before he can say anything else.
Shifting your way past the crowd of the bar, you make your way back down the steps that lead out into the outdoor bar. It isn’t hard to get back into the restaurant, but you’re careful not to catch the attention of any of the chefs or staff. Instead, you carefully slink your way towards the employee section.
At the sight of a chef with blue hair coming towards you, you’re quick to duck behind a wall. You hesitate, hovering, trying to listen for his footsteps to grow distant. Except, your ears pick up on something else.
Luffy.
Turning in the direction of the noise, your gaze falls on the hallway in front of you, seeing a door at the far end. With one more glance behind you to make sure no one was there, you make your way down the hall, eyes brightening when you see the word ‘KITCHEN’ labelled at the top of the door. A glance through the small circular windows only confirms your suspicions, lips curling into a smile at the sight of Luffy.
You also make note of the waiter from before standing in front of him and… it looked like the two were talking to a man you didn’t recognize. Sanji is ushering the man out the back entrance of the kitchen, and you use that as your chance to sneak in.
Pushing open the door, you pop your head in.
“Luffy?”
He turns at the sound of your voice, face brightening at the sight of you.
“Y/N!”
You wince when he all but yells your name, confident you were definitely not supposed to be back here. With one last glance back, you slip inside, letting the doors swing shut behind you as you make your way over to your captain.
“What’re you doing here?” He grins, confused. “I thought you and the rest went up to the bar.”
“We did… but I left.” You explain, frowning slightly. Setting your hand on his arm, you glance up at him. “It was a little awkward, Luffy. Nami’s pretty upset about the grandpa thing.”
Luffy’s face wavers at that, the same way you noticed it had during dinner when Nami had brought it back up then. Frowning at the sight, you squeeze his arm reassuringly.
“But mainly I came because I was worried,” you smile. “I didn’t know how hard that owner guy was working you.”
Luffy instantly eases at that, and his lips curve into a genuine smile.
“I’m okay. He just has me doing dishes,” he juts his thumb behind him, and you eye the stack of dishes with a grimace. “Though, I think I found—”
“Y/N?”
Startled at the new voice, you glance over Luffy’s shoulder to see the waiter back from wherever he’d escorted that man you’d seen before. He seems baffled at the sight of you, while you freeze at the sight of him, worried he’ll be mad you snuck in.
“Hello, S-Sanji,” you greet, offering a small wave. “I know I’m not supposed to be here but I was worried about Luffy—”
“I’m not mad you’re here, love,” Sanji grins easily, making his way over to you and Luffy with a shake of his head. “I just hoped you were having fun upstairs in the bar.”
Still not used to his charm, you flush. “Oh, well…” Eye trailing, you turn to Luffy. “I was actually going to ask Luffy if he needed help with—”
“Absolutely not,” Sanji cuts you off for the third time, leaving your lips parted in bafflement. He’s crossing the distance in the kitchen over to you two in two seconds, and before you can even realize it, his hands are on your shoulders, gently turning you towards the door to the kitchen. The one you’d just come from. “A lady like yourself should not be getting her hands dirty at all.”
“B-But…” Words trailing in your bafflement, you glance back at Luffy who grins back at you, unbothered.
“The chore boy will be fine.”
“I should really…” You reach weakly towards Luffy who just raises his hand in an eager wave, completely unbothered by Sanji who is all but shoving you out of the kitchen.
Before you realize, the two of you are back out in the restaurant and Sanji, still with his hands on your shoulders, is easily maneuvering you up the stairs and out of the restaurant completely. In fact, he doesn’t stop until he’s outside the restaurant, far away from anyone.
When he lets go of you, you turn to him, nonplussed.
He grins down at you, sincere and wide.
“Do you always drag girls you just meet to secluded areas to get them alone?”
He seems momentarily stunned by your words, as if not even realizing where he’d lead you, before his face eases and he leans back against the wall of the restaurant. You watch as he reaches into the pocket of his dress pants, pulling out a pack of smokes. “Not usually, but I thought this was the perfect opportunity to get to know each other. Like I’d offered before.” He sends you a wink that has your cheeks warming, eye watching as he places a cigarette between his teeth, lighting it.
Crossing your arms over your chest, you curl a brow at him, ignoring your flush. “Very… forward of you.”
He just grins, taking a puff of his smoke. “You don’t seem to mind it.”
“Only because Luffy didn’t seem bothered by you leading me away like that,” you shrug, moving to lean against the wall next to him. “Anyone Luffy trusts, I do too.”
Sanji raises a brow. “You sure have faith in him.”
“He saved my life,” you explain, thinking back to that moment he’d offered you to join his crew. Even before that, in that pub… you had no idea then how much Luffy and the rest would change your mind. “They all have.”
Sanji’s smile turns more soft at that, and he turns his gaze up to the sky. “That’s sweet.” You turn to look at him, and sure enough, a moment later, he’s adding with a smirk; “just like you.”
You scoff. “It seems you can’t control yourself.”
“Not when I’m around you,” he laughs, taking another puff of his smoke.
“Sure,” you drawl, snorting.
A second of silence passes, before Sanji speaks up again. “So, what’s going on between you and that moss head?”
Almost instantly, the light flush you’d had before burns into something more intense, as you jump, facing Sanji as you wildly shake your hands in front of you. “No-Nothing!” You squeak, unable to control the pitch of your voice.
Sanji eyes you for a moment, then, he chuckles; “sure.” He drawls, matching your previous tone.
“Seriously,” you argue, trying to calm your voice to sound more sure. “There’s nothing going on between me and Zoro.”
“Beautiful, anyone who gets jealous like that over a little flirting doesn’t think there’s nothing going on.” Sanji shakes his head, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “Or, he hasn’t man-upped enough to tell you the truth.”
You’re positive you’re on fire with how hot you are in embarrassment.
“Zoro does not like me.”
“Okay,” he pauses, “but do you like him?”
Lips left parted, you blink up at Sanji.
“I-I… It’s none of your business.”
Humming, Sanji takes another puff. “Seems like you want to get it off your chest, love.”
You pout. “You’re annoying.”
He leans towards you, smirking; “I’m right, beautiful.”
Shoulders falling, you kick your leg out at a random pebble. “Fine,” you huff, glancing at your feet. “Maybe I like him… a little bit!”
You don’t see the way Sanji’s face softens down at you, and you almost think something’s wrong when he doesn’t say anything. But when you glance back up at him, he’s turned his gaze back up. “Shame,” he sighs, almost soulful. “You truly are enchanting.”
Eyes widening, you bite your lip. “Shut up.”
“It’s true,” he pushes, looking unbothered by your embarrassment. “You deserve far more than that moss head.”
“You don’t even know Zoro.”
He shrugs. “I can tell.”
“I—”
Whatever you’d been about to say falls silent on the tip of your tongue when you see a familiar Straw Hat run by in front of you. Stepping back Sanji, you glance past his shoulder, you watch as Luffy and Usopp run towards the Going Merry.
“Where’s Y/N?” You hear Luffy yell distantly.
“I thought she was with you!” Usopp calls back.
You frown.
“Something wrong?” Sanji asks, hand falling on your shoulder and your gaze turns up, realizing he’d seen the same thing.
“I don’t know…” You breathe, concerned. Stepping back from Sanji, you turn to him apologetically, lips parting to explain.
“Don’t worry about it, love,” he brushes your apology off. “You should go make sure everything’s okay.”
Face easing at his words, you smile; “thank you, Sanji.”
Cigarette in his lips, he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. You send him a genuine smile and a wave, before turning around to run off in the direction Usopp and Luffy had gone.
You’re quick to pick up the pace in your step, reaching the Going Merry in now time. You can hear the distinct voice of Nami and heart racing at how upset she sounds, you’re making your way down the stairs and towards them in seconds flat.
“But you are not better than him!”
Coming to a stop right at the bottom of the stairs, everyone’s eyes fall on you.
Nami instantly turns on you; “there you are!” Reaching you, she tugs you forward, and as she does, you see Usopp glance at you helplessly and Luffy softly smiling which gives you very mixed signals.
Finally, you turn to Zoro, who is… getting his swords ready?
“What’s going on?” You ask, helpless.
Nami huffs next to you. “Will you talk some sense to him?”
Lips parting, you shake your head at Nami. “Sure… but for what?”
“He’s challenged Dracule Mihawk, one of the Seven Warlords, to a duel.”
It’s like you can hear your heart plummet to the pit of your stomach. Nami, who is too busy turning back to Zoro in frustration, doesn’t notice the way your eye shifts, something distant flooding in. Usopp and Luffy don’t see it either.
But Zoro, who’d chanced a glance up at you, nervous for your reaction, sees it. His face falls briefly, everything else fading as he watches you closely.
“Y/N,” Nami presses, voice pitching in distress. “Tell him how reckless he's being.”
Still stunned, your mind a reckless bout of realization and terror, your gaze finally shifts towards Zoro. He quickly turns away and the sight makes dread flood you. “Z-Zoro,” you breathe, feeling as if your voice sounds like an outside extension of yourself.
Distantly, you realize that you’re not helping Nami and most of all, acting suspiciously. Swallowing thickly, you lean forward on the table. “You cannot fight… h-him… fight Mihawk.”
“Yeah,” Nami nods. She looks relieved you agree with her and you figure, even in the midst of your racing mind, the boys hadn’t been much help. With a frown and a huff, she throws her hand in Zoro’s direction; “he wants to go through with it! Even though it’ll get him killed.”
Zoro turns to her, still avoiding your gaze, and asks bluntly; “why do you give a shit?”
Nami visibly blanches, head jerking back in hurt. Her lips part, twisting to say something, and then, blinking back the betrayal in her eyes, she breathes out; “because you’re my friend, you idiot.”
“You said it yourself. You don’t have any friends.”
You see it in her eyes. His words are harsh and even though you’re still reeling from the realization of what was happening and clearly having walked into the middle of something, you see as the walls she’d slowly let fall around you all come back up. Brick by brick.
She glances around the room, meeting your eye last and then, she leaves without another word.
All of you, except for Zoro, watch her leave.
No one says anything, and then, Usopp is following Nami out, meeting your eye with a nervous panic before slipping out. Luffy follows him a second later, patting your shoulder.
You stay standing there, as if glued to the spot. You can’t bring it in you to chase after Nami even if you were concerned, but you also can’t find the words to say something to Zoro. You want to tell him off for being cruel to Nami like that, you want to tell him he was being an idiot that was going to get himself killed and you want to tell him…—
It takes Zoro a minute to speak up. “Not going to try and convince me like Nami?”
Swallowing thickly, the lump in your throat remains despite. With your hands hanging helplessly at your sides, you try to blink back the tears that well in your eyes. It was all too much at once. Your heart was aching with this anchor that had been thrown at you and it was too much to bear.
Still, deep in your heart, you know; “it wouldn’t stop you,” you whisper, voice cracking at the end.
You could beg and plead, get on your hands and knees, and you know nothing could stop Zoro from doing this. The only thing that might… you weren’t sure if you were ready to admit.
Zoro pauses, hands hovering. Then, he agrees; “probably not.”
Your breath hitches. “You could die.”
He turns to look at you. You don’t meet his eyes.
“He’s my goal.”
Fists clenching, you shake your head. “Zoro, please listen,” you cry, “you cannot fight Mihawk. He’s… He’s…”
But you can’t form the words.
“He’s what?” Zoro pushes, leaning towards you. “Say it, Y/N. I saw your face when Nami told you. Mihawk is what?”
You flinch, stepping back. You can’t look at him even as the guilt and panic tears you apart inside. You couldn’t.
Your mind races for something, something else, and then you remember your conversation with Sanji before. You remember your feelings. “W-What about me?”
“What about you?” Zoro’s tone is even, careful, but his blunt question hurts all the same.
Finally, you look up at him. His eyes are already on you, face flat and expressionless.
You come to terms then it’s pointless. Zoro wasn’t going to cancel the duel and nothing you were willing to say would change his mind. Anything more, and you’d just get yourself hurt. You think once again, in that moment, back to your conversation with Sanji.
You’d known of your feelings all along, just hadn’t been able to realize it. But you’d finally let yourself admit how you felt about Zoro. Finally let the truth out and the relief you’d felt in that moment, to a man you’d only met that day no less, had been imminent.
You’d gotten ahead of yourself then. Forgot that you were the only one who believed in Luffy’s wish to be a crew. Forgot that all the people you’d met had their own goals and you were someone just drifting alongside with them until it came time for them to leave.
You forgot that your life wasn’t just being a part of Luffy's crew.
You forgot that even if Zoro felt anything of what you felt for him, you were still just some girl he’d rescued from a pirate and nothing more than that. Zoro had his own goals and dreams, and you weren’t part of them.
What about you?
Answer made clear, you turn and walk without another word.
Zoro doesn’t see the way tears fall from your face the second you’re out of sight and you don’t see the way his leg kicks out in frustration at himself for being so stupid.
-
It was clear Mihawk didn’t know who you were, despite being your father.
You couldn’t blame him, though. He’d never met you. He didn’t even know that the random woman he met that one day eighteen years ago and spent the night with, had ever gotten pregnant. It wasn’t like Dracule Mihawk to stick around places for long, after all.
And the only reason you even knew he was your father was because your mother had told you the day she died. In her deathbed, with your hand clutching hers, she’d whispered his name and told you if you ever needed help, to go to him.
Something told you he wouldn’t be helping you here.
You watch him best Zoro in every single one of his attacks. He dodges his attacks without even having to lift a finger. It’s a fight unlike anything you’ve ever seen before, and the reality of watching Zoro unable to land any attacks is cruel and unforgiving.
Everything about this is cruel.
With your heart racing and your palms sweaty, you visibly flinch when Mihawk stabs Zoro with the tiny sword he told Zoro was the best match for their duel. It hits him directly in the chest, and you watch the flicker of pain in Zoro’s eyes as he stares his goal down.
And as you listen to Zoro refuse to give up, you can feel your heart tear into two.
Mihawk brings out Yoru. You watch as he unsheathes it from his back, heart plummeting. And you watch as Zoro places the Wado Ichimonji in his mouth, bringing the two black-handle katanas into either of his hands. This is it, you realize. This is the final attack.
After watching Zoro be unable to land one hit, you know this final one won’t be different.
There’s a moment of stilled silence, no one moves. And then, Zoro is running forward and Mihawk watches his pace. They clash, the sound of metal hitting metal reverberates in your mind, rattling your insides.
Zoro slides on his knees across the deck in front of Baratie, stopping just a few feet in front of you. He’s breathless, silent, and you feel your friends around you as you all watch with bated breath.
The two black-handle swords shatter into pieces.
The sob that wretches from your throat is beyond your control. It rips out of you, body shuddering in the reality you’re forced to face, watching as Zoro stands to his feet and turns to face Mihawk.
“You’re defeated,” Mihawk shakes his head. “Why do you persist?”
Sheathing the Wado Ichimonji, Zoro says without hesitation; “wounds on the back are a swordsman’s greatest shame.” Raising his arms in defeat, he holds them to his sides, waiting for Mihawk to make his final move.
“Magnificent.”
Tears welling in your eyes, you feel a hand slip into your own.
Glancing down first and then following the arm, you find Nami’s similarly tearful eyes staring back at you, squeezing your hand. You don’t know if it’s to comfort you or herself, but you appreciate it nonetheless. You turn to your other friends, seeing that Nami is holding Usopp’s hand too and he’s looking at you with concern. The final person you turn to is Luffy.
He meets your eye, and your whole body trembles.
You turn your head back in Zoro’s direction, and the second Mihawk’s arm swings to attack Zoro, you turn away again.
Your head tucks into Nami who startles at your movement, but her hand slips from your own to wrap her arm around you. You can’t see, but you hear the slice of skin and the sound of Zoro’s body hit the ground a minute later. You feel Nami’s body jerk in response.
“Zoro!”
-
Hugging your knees to your chest, you stare at Zoro. You let your eye drag across his sleeping figure, every curve of his face, the dip of his nose, all the way down to his chest, where his wound is tightly bandaged.
It was thanks to Sanji and the Baratie owner, Zeff, that Zoro’s wounds had been cleaned, stitched and dressed. It was thanks to them that Zoro even had a chance of surviving.
Talk to him. That’s what Zeff had said. The only thing any of you could do for Zoro now was talk to him and hope that that was enough to pull him from the purgatory between life and death.
You’d offered the first watch and no one had argued. Everyone was worried about Zoro in their own way, but the tears streaming down your cheeks and the visible mess you were in left no one willing to argue with you. One by one, everyone had left the room, with Luffy only glancing back at you one last time, before it was just you and Zoro.
You hadn’t moved from the spot since then.
That had been hours ago. Nami had come in at one point and asked if she could read to Zoro. you’d nodded without a word, sitting back but never leaving the room. Nami didn’t say anything and even if she had, you would’ve refused to leave. Luffy had followed her in shortly after and that had turned sour quickly when it was apparent that Nami felt Luffy held some responsibility for not telling Zoro to back out of the duel. You watched them argue, not saying a word. Then, Nami left.
“You should eat,” Luffy had said a minute after she walked out the door.
Never taking your eye off Zoro, you’d shaken your head. “I will when he wakes up.”
“Y/N, you—”
“When he wakes up.” The words had come out sharper than you intended and instantly, you’d felt guilt when you’d seen Luffy jerk at the sound. But you didn’t get up nor did you say anything else, and a minute later, Luffy left too.
That had been an hour ago. No one else had come in since.
You’d moved back to the chair next to Zoro, and let your hand slip into his and you hadn’t moved since.
Talk to him. How were you supposed to talk to him? What could you possibly say to him after everything that happened?
Head falling, you let out a shaky sigh.
“This is all my fault,” you whisper, barely even registering you’d said the words aloud. And as you breathe the words into existion, you realize that that was the only thing you could say.
Raising your head, you glance at Zoro’s face.
“I’m so sorry,” you say, squeezing his hand. “I should’ve… I should’ve told you the truth.”
Your chest feels tight, your body heavy. You know what you want to say, but you don’t know if you have the courage to speak the words. Mihawk was your father, it was true, but he meant nothing to you. That isn’t what made it hard to say. Not even seeing him in person for the first time today could make the feeling of indifference toward him fade. Mihawk didn’t even know who you were and he never would.
Today would’ve been your chance to tell him and it hadn’t even crossed your mind.
What you found hard to admit was that you’d been too scared to tell Zoro the truth and that cowardness is what got him hurt. If you had just been honest with him, maybe none of this wouldn’t have happened. Zoro wouldn’t have gotten hurt and nobody on the crew would be upset.
Why couldn’t you have just been honest?
“I was scared,” you tell Zoro. “Scared because there’s so much about my life I don’t know and the only thing I do know is so unimportant.” Breathing in sharply, you force the words out. “So what if Mihawk is my father? It hadn’t mattered before. But it mattered last night and I should’ve told you… If I told you, you wouldn’t be hurt and the crew wouldn’t have to be worried about you not waking up.”
Pressing your free hand to your forehead, you shake your head. “I’m so sorry, Zoro,” you sob, feeling your eyes water as curl into yourself. “I’m so sorry because you’re hurt and because I think I may love you… and my life is so utterly unimportant that you deserve better than someone like me… Someone who will just ruin your life.”
Your hand leaves his, pressing against your lips as you let yourself cry. You let yourself cry out the anguish in your chest that weighs you down and hurts. You cry and cry, stifling your sobs behind your hand, letting it all out.
Until, eventually, you fall asleep from the exhaustion.
The exhaustion of not sleeping the night before, of being tense and terrified for Zoro, for the guilt that feels like it might eat you alive.
You stay like that for a while, until soft hands gently shake you awake.
“Come on, love. Wake up.”
Letting out a soft groan, your eyes flutter at the voice, hands moving instinctively to rub at your eyes. It takes you a second to wake yourself up, confused as you slowly straighten out. You first see Zoro before your head turns, and your eye falls on Sanji who’s standing behind you.
“Sanji?”
“You need to eat,” Sanji says, ushering you. “Come on.”
You turn back to Zoro, licking your dry lips. “I shouldn’t leave him.”
Your eyes are puffy and your eyelids ache. The last thing you remember is crying, and it occurs to you you’d fallen asleep in the midst of your break down.
“Luffy can watch him,” Sanji offers, gesturing behind him.
Turning towards the door, Luffy smiles at you warmly.
“I’ll watch Zoro for you, Y/N. I promise I’ll take good care of him.”
Dazed and still a little sleepy, you let Sanji pull you to your feet, not fighting his grip as he guides you towards the door. You glance back at Zoro one last time, feeling that crushing guilt stab at you, just as Luffy squeezes your shoulder.
“He’ll wake up, Y/N,” Luffy grins at you. “I promise.”
You nod at him, finding his words reassuring and comforting despite the doubt festering inside you.
“I’ll whip you up something tasty, Y/N.” Sanji smiles softly down at you, “okay?”
He’s incredibly gentle the entire time. You relish in it.
-
“Can I have a moment alone with him?”
Meeting Nami’s eyes, you nod, moving to stand. She sends you a smile, though it seems off, as you walk past her.
Letting the door fall shut behind you, you make your way into the kitchen. You bite your lip, trying to ignore the nerves rattling your body. After Nami had come running into the kitchen where you and Sanji were, you eating after he’d made you a meal like he promised, it was instantly clear something was wrong. She had been going on about some pirate named Arlong, calling for Luffy in between explaining to you. Most importantly, she looked terrified.
Turns out Arlong was attacking Baratie looking for Luffy and the Grand Line map.
Nami’s attempt at getting Luffy to take the Going Merry and run had been fruitless and he, Sanji and Usopp had gone to confront Arlong. Luffy had told Nami to stay behind to protect the map, before turning to you and telling you to watch over Zoro for him. When you’d tried to argue and say you could help, he’d just shaken his head and said you were still healing from your last fight and Zoro was more important.
So, for the last twenty or so minutes, you and Nami were in the Going Merry. She’d disappeared elsewhere on the ship the second the three left, so you assigned yourself back next to Zoro, opting to read to him like Nami had before in the hopes that maybe that’d get him to wake up.
You had, at least, until Nami had popped her head into the room.
You hoped everything was going well. Honestly, you did want to go out and check on them, but you knew Luffy was right. Even if he hadn’t said it in that way, it was clear he didn’t want you coming because you didn’t know how to fight. You’d be more of a hindrance than any help and that reality left a sour taste in your mouth.
Hearing footsteps approach, you turn, face easing when you see Nami coming out of the room.
“Everything okay?” You ask, despite knowing in fact nothing was okay.
She nods, stepping out of the room and you smile at her as you walk past her, squeezing her shoulder in an attempt to comfort both her and yourself. You think nothing of the look on her face, chalking it up to everything that had and is happening just making her a little off.
At least, until you hear the door slam shut behind you.
Stilling right next to Zoro, your head snaps towards the door. You hesitate for a moment, baffled, before your feet instinctively carry you towards it, hand falling on the knob. Maybe she’d shut it by accident? Or maybe she wanted to give you privacy as you had for her?
Except, the door won’t open when you turn it.
“N-Nami?”
You know she’s by the door. You can see her shadow through the small opening at the bottom. You can hear her heavy breathing.
“Nami,” you call again, voice louder. “Why is the door locked?”
There’s a moment that passes before she answers.
“Sorry, Y/N. I can’t let you out.”
“What?” You breathe, bewildered. There’s something awful twisting in your chest. You try the door again, it doesn’t open. “Nami, what the hell is going on? What are you doing?”
“I’m doing what I always planned to do.”
Her voice is muffled through the door, but the low tone scares you all the same.
Using your left hand, you slam it against the door. “Let me out, Nami. Now.”
“You’ll be safe in there.”
You hear her take a step toward and your heart lurches, yanking on the door as you start to pound against it more aggressively. “Nami?”
“I’m sorry.”
You see her shadow disappear and soon, her footsteps are gone too. You stand there, stunned, before you start to yank on the door again. You pull at it, trying to twist it. But it’s clearly jammed shut.
Nami had made sure you weren’t going to be able to get out.
Minutes pass of you banging on the door, with no luck, until eventually you tire yourself out.
Head hanging in your hands, you try to ignore the shake of your body as you sit there, forced to wait.
At the first sound of footsteps, you jump to your feet.
“Hey!” You call, banging on the door. “Luffy? Usopp?”
“Y/N?”
It’s Usopp.
Yanking on the door, you call out to him; “let me out!”
It takes him no more than a few seconds to open the door, yanking it open as you meet his eyes with relief.
“Usopp,” you breathe, “you have to listen to me. It’s Nami. She—”
You move to ramble out what had happened, but fall silent the second you see the look on Usopp’s face.
“Usopp?” You question, voice quiet. “Why are you…?”
Just then Sanji comes stumbling down the stairs of the kitchen, with Luffy in his arms, the latter looking beat up and hurt. Both of them are sopping wet.
Your eyes widen.
“Nami, she…” Usopp speaks up, looking nervous. “She betrayed us.”
-
“Y/N, seriously!”
Shaking your head, you stumble behind Usopp. “Seriously what, Usopp?”
You’re mildly annoyed, but you figure he has a good reason—whatever that reason is. He hasn’t elected to tell you yet.
You’d been getting some sleep after Luffy had practically forced you to, letting you sleep in his and the rest of the guys’ cabin since Zoro was currently occupying yours and… Nami’s. After everything that has happened, it was clear you all needed some time to digest and recoup. Even though you’d been reluctant to leave Zoro’s side, you also knew you needed some sleep or you were going to make yourself sick.
And a twenty minute sob-induced cat nap hunched over a bed didn’t count.
Only, your sleep had been cut short but Usopp all but ran into your room, yelling your name with a wide grin on his face. You couldn’t even possibly begin to think what he could be smiling about given that everything was the worst it could be, but you didn’t get the chance to ask either before he was yanking you to your feet and dragging you with him.
“Usopp—”
Whatever you’d been about to say falls silent, however, when you realize where Usopp is leading you. Body freezing, you turn to him, him already grinning at you, letting the two of you come to a stop. You glance at him, then the room, and then realize you hear a very familiar voice speaking.
Your feet move before you can stop yourself.
All chatter stops the second you come running into the room, and sure enough, still on the bed, Zoro stares back at you, but awake.
“Y/N, look, Zoro’s—!”
You don’t let Luffy finish. You don’t even really hear him speak. You run over to the other side of the bed in seconds and practically fall onto Zoro. In your excitement, you forget about his wounds, to which Zoro groans in response to your hug. Your eyes widen, your first word to him about to be ‘sorry’, as you scramble to pull back.
His arm falls around your waist before you can.
Stilling in his hold, and now careful to not let your weight fall on him, he holds you for a moment, the entire room distinctly quiet.
Then, his arm leaves and you pull back, staring down at him.
“Hey,” you breathe, unable to stop the curl of your lips. Despite everything, that short greeting is what feels right.
It’s all you can manage.
His lips curve into a soft smile; “hey.”
-
Raising your hand, you softly knock on the door.
Zoro’s head snaps towards you, easing when he realizes it’s you.
You step into the room with a gentle smile, and nod at him; “let me.” You offer, gesturing loosely to the bandages surrounding him. “I got pretty good at it after…” You let your voice trail, and Zoro huffs.
“I’d bet. You never let anyone help you.”
Sitting next to him, you shrug. “I could do it on my own.” Laughing quietly, you pick up the bandages that are wildly thrown about the bed. “Unlike you.”
Zoro scoffs but he doesn’t stop you as you start to unwrap the bandages he’d loosely wrapped around himself, redoing it.
Silence echoes for a moment, before Zoro speaks up.
“I can’t believe the waiter is joining us.”
Huffing a laugh, you roll your eye. “Sanji is nice,” you defend. “And a good fighter I hear from Luffy.”
Zoro frowns. “He’s a waiter.”
You just shake your head, snorting to yourself.
Then, you hesitate, hands hovering. You can't help but ask, since it’s been weighing on you since she’d left. “You think Nami meant it all? That she never actually cared about us?”
“Don’t know,” he shrugs. “Maybe.”
Biting your lip, you frown. You don’t want that to be the truth.
“Y/N.”
His voice is serious as he calls for you, and it makes you freeze.
“I heard you.”
Your muscles tense, and you refuse to let your gaze wander from your hands, fiddling with your fingers.
Zoro doesn’t let you. In the next second, his hand is falling over your own, pulling them away from what you’d been doing. Your lips part as he does, heart fluttering as he shifts his hand so his fingers threads through yours instead of just being wrapped around your wrist.
Your cheeks warm instantly.
“Y/N. Look at me.”
His voice is raspy from being asleep for so long. It sends shivers down your spine.
Still, you listen, raising your head and meeting his eyes.
“I didn’t think you could hear me,” you whisper.
“I could,” he nods. “About your father and…” His voice trails.
Swallowing thickly, you choose to focus on the first thing first. “I… Does it bother you?”
Zoro’s lips part, stunned at your forwardness and you realize your mistake.
“About… Mihawk.”
“Oh,” he breathes. “No.”
It’s not what you’re expecting. He says it so bluntly, so sure of himself.
“It… doesn’t?”
“You have your reasons,” he shrugs, still holding your hand. “And it wouldn’t have changed my mind. Defeating Mihawk is my goal, that won’t change.”
His words hurt you, but you also know that you have no right to argue otherwise.
“I’m still sorry you got hurt.”
Zoro shakes his head. “It wasn’t your fault.” Then, when you don’t respond, he squeezes your hand. “It wasn’t.”
His voice is sharp and leaves no room for argument.
You nod. “Thank you,” you say, “I’m… so relieved you’re okay.”
Zoro breathes in sharply, and then he lowers his hand, taking yours with him.
There’s a beat of silence, then; “I think I love you too.”
It seems that Zoro is just full of surprises at that moment.
Body turning rigid, you blink at him.
His cheeks have a light flush and he’s now the one turned away. “I… You were wrong… I don’t deserve someone better than you. I… I want you.”
“Zoro…”
He turns back to you, quickly, as if the words are both hard to speak but leaving him before he can stop himself. “But I… I don’t know how to be… I don't know how to be with you,” he explains, the words awkward and forced. You can tell he’s trying, words stumbling off the tip of his tongue. “I’ve only had one friend in my life and she’s dead. Before you guys, I had no one. I don’t know how to be someone you can depend on.”
You let his words sink in and you take in the look on his face. He’s embarrassed, you can tell, but he’s waiting for you to respond, patiently. You realize he’s leaving the decision up to you.
You think of, once again, your conversation with Sanji. You think of how you felt when Zoro had been unconscious in that bed. You think of everything that’s happened.
“I…” You start, voice soft. “I don’t know how to either,” you explain, shoulders dropping with the weight of your confession. “I’ve been alone for so long too, Zoro. And at first I wasn’t going to say anything. I didn’t understand my feelings so I was just going to ignore them. But then… seeing you fight like that and get hurt… waiting for you to wake up… I know that it can happen again. To either of us. I know that neither of us will ever be completely safe. I know you will never give up on your goal.”
Zoro frowns, and there’s a flicker of disappointment in his gaze.
It’s you who squeezes his hand this time, pulling his attention back on you.
“But I don’t want to do any of that without you,” you finish. “I… want to do this all with you. I want to save Nami with you. I want to explore the Grand Line with you. I want to help you complete your goal. Not just as your friend but more.”
The second you finish, breathless, Zoro is pulling you towards him. His actions speak louder than words and it seems his instincts allow him to act without any fluster of embarrassment. It pulls a gasp from your lips but you don’t stop him, hands falling on his shoulders as you lean into his touch. You’re careful of his wounds as he tugs you into his lap, his hands settling on your hips as his forehead falls against yours, breathing heavily.
“Fuck,” he inhales sharply, before shuddering a breath. “Can I kiss you?”
You smile at his response, thinking it’s so very Zoro, and nod. “Please.”
His lips are on yours instantly, pulling you close to him as you cup his cheeks, letting your hands thread through his hair. Your stomach flutters at the kiss, feeling your insides turn to jelly at the sensation. His hands on your skin feel like fire in the best way possible, molding your lips against his as he tugs you closer and closer even when there’s nowhere else for you to go.
You let your nails drag across his scalp, his lips warm and soft against your own.
And then, just as your lips part to allow his tongue to slip inside, a voice calls out;
“Zoro!”
You both pull back, startled. Zoro groans softly as he twists his body wrong, agitating his wound while your head snaps round to see Luffy.
He pauses, hovering at the door, at the sight of you two, you on Zoro’s lap with the both of you looking thoroughly flushed.
Luffy looks confused.
“Luffy,” Zoro huffs, pressing his hand to his forehead, one still gripping your hip, as you laugh quietly to yourself. “Leave.”
Oblivious as always, Luffy just nods; “sure thing, Zoro.”
You’re positive you’ll be getting an earful from Usopp later.
His footsteps fade and you turn back to Zoro, giggling.
“He never knocks,” Zoro groans, pulling at his hair.
You pull his hand away, moving instead to hold it. Zoro flushes at the action.
“That’s okay,” you shrug. “I imagine it’ll be like that a lot.”
Zoro only groans further at the thought, but he knows you’re right.
You move to stand, slipping off his lap and panicking when you realize you didn’t finish bandaging him properly. Zoro laughs as you fuss over him, moving when you tell him to and watching you with amused eyes.
Just as you sit down next to him, though, he whispers out;
“Together, then.”
You blink at his words, cheeks still a light flush, before you remember your earlier words.
You smile; “together.”
-
End of Chapter Note: I know that I’ve made the reader Mihawk’s daughter who is canonically light-skinned. I have left the readers mother open to try and be as ambiguous and inclusive as possible. Apologies to anyone that finds this detail stops them from being able to “insert” themselves into the story.
#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece x you#one piece live action#one piece zoro#opla#opla x reader#opla x you#opla zoro#zoro roronoa#zoro roronoa x reader#zoro roronoa x you#zoro roronoa imagine#zoro x reader#zoro#opla zoro x reader
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the forgotten girl (16)
this is the final chapter. Maybe in the future I will write another chapter, but for now it’s the end.
As the morning came, tiredness washed over me. Last night was amazing, fantastic, everything that it should’ve been three years ago. I felt alexia’s grip around my waist tighten, moving to kiss her forehead and run my hand up and down her back.
“It wasn’t a dream?” She said, whispering. It made me laugh.
“No amor. It was real. Very real.”
We stayed like that for a while. No talking, just soaking in each others company.
“Are you hungry? I can go get us something?” I spoke up after a while. If I was hungry, I’m sure she was too.
“No.” Alexia’s stomach gave her away, rumbling loudly. I raised my eyebrows at her, “well yes I am but can we just go together?”
She’s afraid I’m going to leave and not come back. I can tell, she won’t say out loud but I know. I hate myself for ruining her, for making her doubt herself.
“Vamos! Let’s go.”
We both got up and got ready. Breakfast was peaceful. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, it was light and airy.
The rest of the month carried on much the same. Shoots for Nike, training for league games and for the Champions League. The little free time I did have, I made sure to spread equally between Alexia, Keira and Lucy, as well as the team whenever we had team nights.
“She’s scared you’re going to run away when the seasons over.”
Keira and I were laying on the beach in the dark, it was the only time we would’ve been able to see each other outside of training and we both jumped at the chance.
“What?”
“You have the Olympics, and camp. She’s scared it’ll get too much and you’ll leave, especially if you don’t win or make it further than Spain does.”
“That’s not going to happen. I promised her I wouldn’t leave. Plus she’ll be there too.”
It took a week before alexia and I had time to be alone. Training was ramping up, our first champions league semi final against Chelsea was less than a week away. Leg 1 at home, leg 2 in London.
“We need to talk.” Alexia’s face fell as soon as she opened the door.
“Oh? Okay?”
I dragged her through her own apartment to the lounge room, pushing her down to the couch and grabbing her hands.
“I’m not leaving. Not now, not when the season ends, not again. I will not leave unless you make me or you are coming with. I know you have your worries and have been communicating them with others, but can you please communicate them with me too. I don’t care who you tell but please also tell me. We can’t figure it out otherwise.”
“The season ends soon, then we have our separate camps and the Olympics and then-“
“And then we will come back to each other. No matter what. You win or I win, or lose. It doesn’t matter. We will come back to each other. Our story doesn’t end yet, I won’t let it.”
—————————————————————————
The season ended on a high of FC Barcelona. Winning the treble. Alexia scored an absolute worldie in the first ninety seconds of being sub on in the Champions League Final.
Both Alexia and Amelia embarked on a much needed holiday before separating for camp and the Olympics. A holiday far away from the typical Ibiza.
In the hidden valleys of Italy, they eloped. Amelia had never thought about getting married to anyone again, but coming back to Alexia was like coming home. She was the light at the end of the tunnel, the fresh air among the smog. It should’ve been Alexia and Amelia from the beginning but something things don’t work that well.
After Australia got grouped at the Paris Olympics, Amelia went on to be the best wag she could be. Supporting Alexia and Spain (but not their coach), through the quarter finals, semi finals and into the bronze medal game. She supported Alexia as much as possible.
Holding on to her as she cried tears of disappointment and frustration after the Brazil game. Singing her praises and love after the win in the Bronze medal game against Germany.
Eventually, Alexia would retire and the happy couple would adopt two children, they’d go onto telling their story to their grandkids. Supporting their daughter as she played her first game with the FC Barcelona Women’s team.
While a part of Amelia Higgins-Scott died on the faithful day, a part of her was reborn too. Emily was never forgotten, her ashes and their wedding photo sat on the mantel above the fire place. Amelia was more than happy to answer questions when their kids were growing up.
Alexia’s foundation ‘more than 11’ kicked off, when Amelia retired, they travelled the world helping with the foundation work. returning home whenever their kids needed it.
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