#but not close enough with to feel relaxed around if i'm already wound up or for them to like. remember to include me in conversation

[benoitblanc]

the imposter syndrome sure is impostering today lads

[godsfavdarling]

waiting for the day to end (pt.1)

part 2

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You and Spencer come back to his apartment, and your boyfriend’s drunken state brings old wounds to the surface. words: 2,3k warnings: angst, panic attack, drunk Spencer, mentions reader's ex-bf who was an alcoholic a/n: I'm imagining later seasons Spence but I am not gonna yuck anybody's yum!

You smoothly place the keys in the lock of his apartment and quickly turn them twice to unlock the door. The dark room abruptly brightens when you flick the light switch on.

Spencer, who has been leaning against the wall near you, stumbles into the room right behind you.

The door slams shut behind him, the thud reverberating through the room.

You flinch, spinning around at the jarring sound.

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbles, a bit unsteady.

He throws himself onto the armchair with a heavy sigh, his head lolling back as he closes his eyes.

You murmur under your breath, “I’ll get you some water,” and head toward the kitchen, your heels clacking against the floor. 

In the quiet, you take a few deep breaths to steady yourself before filling two glasses of water. 

When you bring them back, you hand one to Spencer, urging him to drink. He gulps it down immediately, nearly draining the glass in one go.

You���ve never really seen him like this.

Spencer rarely—almost never—drinks. But tonight, it’s obvious just how far gone he is. He’s coherent enough to hold himself up, and his words still make sense, but you can tell he isn’t fully present. 

He was already fading hours ago, just an hour into dinner at Rossi's when his team had convinced him to relax and celebrate Garcia’s birthday with a few drinks.

Now, he’s staring off into space, eyes glassy, a faint smile still lingering from whatever joke had last drifted through his mind. You swallow, feeling the anxiety tug at you.

You felt it early on. But you tried to ignore it.

Spencer was different. 

He was responsible and careful. He liked being sober and in control. He was someone who avoided excess.

He was not a drunk. 

You knew all this and tried to stay rational. 

After his third drink, though, all that rationality flew out the window. With the last gulp of his third drink, you decided to excuse yourself, claiming you weren't feeling well, and spent most of the evening outside. The poker game was so intense that no one really questioned you or bothered to check on you.

You had thought, knowing Spencer’s sharp observation skills, that he would come find you shortly and ask what was wrong. He always did. He could always tell when something was off and always wanted to know. But tonight, he didn’t.

You waited, each minute stretching longer than the last, hoping he’d realize and come find you, that he’d be his usual self. But as the laughter and clinking glasses carried on from inside, you realized he was somewhere you couldn’t reach him tonight.

As you watched him now, slouched in the armchair with you far away from him sitting on the edge of the couch, your heart ached. 

This wasn’t the Spencer you knew. He was lost in his thoughts, barely acknowledging your presence. You handed him your glass of water, and he took it with a mumbled "thanks", sipping it more slowly this time.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you finally asked, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He looked up at you, his eyes a bit clearer but still distant. “Yeah, just... tired,” he replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You nodded, but the anxiety still sat inside you.

Stop!

Spencer is not him! 

He is nothing like him!

You keep staring at him, fidgeting with your fingers and the hem of your black velvet dress, feeling helpless as you try to guess what he wants. 

Is he going to stay here for a while? Does he need more water? Is he going to shower, or maybe just head to bed?

Finally, Spencer glances up, his gaze focusing on you as if for the first time tonight. His brows knit together as he notices the anxious look in your eyes. 

"What’s wrong?" he asks, his voice soft but tinged with confusion.

You swallow, feeling a rush of emotions you’ve been holding back all evening. He’s looking at you now, really looking, like he usually does, but something about his unsteady, drunken state makes you hesitate. 

He’s here, yet somehow not fully here, and you’re not sure how to answer.

You force a smile, shrugging as if it’s nothing, but your heart pounds. "Just… tired, I guess."

Spencer’s gaze doesn’t waver, and you know he sees through your answer, even in his state. 

Now he sees. 

He’s silent, watching you with a slight frown like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. The quiet stretches between you, heavy and thick.

You glance away, twisting the hem of your dress tighter. 

"Maybe you should get some rest," you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. You try to keep the tremor out, but it’s there. A lot of it.

He’s never seen you like this—not this vulnerable, this close to tears. You’ve not been dating that long. A lot of things are still unknown, unsaid, unshared and the toxic, drunk but highly functioning, unpredictable boyfriends have not yet come out in any conversation.

"I’ll be fine," Spencer mutters, rubbing his face with one hand as he sinks further into the chair.

His words are gentle, but they’re not the reassurance you’re aching for. 

You wish he’d tell you he’d never do this again, that he understands why this is hard for you. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, distant and hazy.

A lump forms in your throat as the silence presses down on you. You stand up, needing some distance, and force a tight smile. "I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll go… take a walk or something."

As you turn to leave, Spencer reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft but unsteady. "It’s like 2 AM. You’re not going anywhere alone."

You stop, frozen, a tightness forming in your chest. You want to say it’s fine, that you just need space, but the words feel like they’re stuck in your throat. Instead, he continues, unaware of how badly his presence is affecting you right now.

“Let’s take a walk together. It’ll help,” he offers, his voice tinged with concern, though still a little slurred.

You turn sharply, frustration and something darker bubbling up in your chest. “No!” you snap, louder than you intended, the word echoing in the quiet room. You instantly regret it, but the hurt is too raw, too overwhelming. You try to swallow the sudden surge of emotion, but it’s too much.

You finally realize that his hand in on your arm, and the realization hits like a cold wave. You feel an intense rush of discomfort. You don’t want him near you right now. 

The feeling of his fingers on your skin, even though they’re meant to comfort, feels wrong.

You can’t breathe. You can’t handle his touch, not like this, not after everything that’s happened. You jerk away, backing up, your heart hammering.

Without a word, you turn and storm toward the bathroom. You lock the door behind you and lean against it for a second, trying to steady your breath. 

The walls feel like they’re closing in, the anger and fear swirling inside you until you can hardly tell the difference between the two.

It’s not his fault, you think, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside your chest.

He’s just drunk, he’ll be sober soon, but... why does it still feel so wrong?

You press your hands to your face, feeling the tears already starting to form.

I’m not that person anymore. I’m not going to let this take me back. I can’t let it.

Your thoughts race, but you force yourself to focus, turning the shower on. The sound of the water helps. 

You quickly but clumsily step out of the dress and underwear, leaving them in a heap on the tiles. 

You step under the hot spray, closing your eyes, letting the warmth soothe the tension in your muscles.

Just wash it off, just wash it off, you tell yourself as if the water could cleanse more than just your skin.

You’re lost in the sensation of the water for long minutes when there’s a gentle knock on the bathroom door. 

You freeze. Your heart skipping a beat.

“Hey… uh… I really need to pee,” Spencer calls out, his voice even softer than before.

You swallow, fighting the panic rising in your throat, and quickly shut off the water. You wrap a towel around your body and open the door just enough for you to slip past him. Without a word, you go into the bedroom and gracelessly put on one of the shirts you left in his drawer.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow everything will be fine, you think, climbing into bed, curling up under the covers. 

You just want this day to end. You need it to end.

Then it hits you—you’re in his bed.

You stand up and then sit again on the edge.

You should go home. You should be in your own bed. You want to get up, gather your things, get dressed, and leave, but you're paralyzed. You're overwhelmed. You can’t breathe. You can’t move.

Then Spencer walks into the room, his gaze landing on you. As if he can read the turmoil in your mind, he says softly, "It's late. Stay here tonight. Take the bed. I’ll take the couch."

You don’t say anything, unable to find the words.

He pauses, watching you for a moment, before quietly pulling his pajamas from the closet and heading into the bathroom.

You just need to sleep. You’ll sleep it off, and when you wake up, things will make sense again. Maybe Spencer will apologize. 

Apologize for what?

He didn’t do anything wrong.

He’ll be sober. Everything will go back to normal.

But sleep doesn’t come. The bed feels cold, and the silence in the room is suffocating. You can’t shake the thoughts in your head.

What if he doesn’t remember?

What if he won’t leave it and you’ll have to explain and he’ll be angry?

Why are you angry?

Why are you upset?

Just as you're about to give up on sleep altogether, you hear the soft creak of the door opening. Spencer slips into the room quietly, his footsteps hesitant. He walks to the bed, sitting down beside you without saying anything at first.

"Are you asleep?" he asks quietly, his voice gentle, almost too careful. You feel his gaze on you, even though you’re facing the window, your back to him.

You don’t answer at first. You don’t want to talk to him right now. You don’t want to explain why everything feels broken. You don’t want him to ask.

But you can feel him there, his presence. 

Finally, he speaks again, his voice low but steady. “Please... can we talk? I don't wanna go to bed with you upset and angry.”

You don’t move, staring into the dark. You wish you could say the right thing. You wish you could fix it, but all you feel is a dull ache in your chest, and the thought that maybe nothing will ever be the same again.

Spencer’s hand reaches out, his fingers trembling slightly as he hesitates for a moment before gently moving toward you. "Hey, I—" His voice cracks, and you can hear the sorrow in it, the regret, the helplessness.

But as his arms come closer, something inside you recoils. You can’t have him near you right now. Not like this. Not when everything feels so wrong.

You flinch, turning away from him instinctively, the words coming out before you even have a chance to stop them. “Please don’t touch me.”

The words hang between you like a heavyweight. 

Spencer freezes, his hand hovering in mid-air, and for a second, everything is still. You can hear his breathing — shallow, uneven — as if he’s trying to understand, trying to process what just happened.

You don’t want him to feel hurt, but you can’t help it. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a raw nerve, and his touch, even if it's meant to comfort, feels suffocating.

“Okay,” Spencer finally says, his voice small, resigned. He pulls his hand back slowly, as though giving you space to breathe. 

You don’t look at him. You can’t. 

“I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice distant now, like he’s trying to find his footing again. “I just... I’m not sure what happened. I know hurt you. I don’t know how but I’m sorry.”

The silence lingers, thick and uncomfortable, wrapping itself around both of you. Spencer hesitates for a long moment, unsure of what to do or say next. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t lift yours. 

Finally, he clears his throat softly.

“I’ll... I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” he says, his voice gentle and careful like he’s trying not to disturb the fragile air between you.

“It’s okay. If you want to talk... or anything... just come and tell me. I’ll be here.”

You don’t say anything. You still don’t look at him. But you can hear the sincerity in his voice, the aching honesty of it.

If only his words, his willingness to be there even when you’ve pushed him away could make things better.

But you don’t answer him, because you don’t have the strength to. You don’t know what to say.

Spencer sighs quietly, almost like a final surrender, and then you hear his footsteps moving away from you.

The door opens and closes softly behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence of the room once more.

Spencer’s words echo in your mind, but they don’t bring comfort. Not yet. 

[fangirl-writes]

Tell me you want this

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Stilinski!Reader

Warning(s): canon-level stuff, blood, making out, mentions of sex

Summary: In a life that is constantly on the move, you appreciate the small moments much more. Especially if they're with Isaac.

"It'll just heal in a few minutes, you know," Isaac said.

"I know," you replied, sitting on his bed next to him.

You pulled a baby wipe from its package and held Issac's chin between your thumb and forefinger, moving his head to look him over.

It had been a particularly bad fight, for everyone. The kind of fight where you needed the rest of the night to just heal; physically, mentally, emotionally.

And, of course, you wouldn't let Isaac do it on his own.

You began wiping at a spot on his face, gliding the cloth over the apple of his cheek.

"If Stiles finds out about this, he's gonna be upset," Isaac said, watching your face contort as you worked.

"Yeah, well," you moved his head to the other side, frowning at the mention of your brother. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

You and Isaac had known each other forever. Being in the same grade, it would’ve been hard not to notice one another, but even besides that you had a connection. You were sort of friends.

Not the kind that hung out outside of school, but the loners who ate lunch under the bleachers and spent free periods in the library.

You also covered for him whenever he wasn’t in school, finding out about his home life after his dad had a particularly bad day.

You’d cleaned him up then, too.

Isaac gently grabbed your wrist, "and Derek-"

"Derek's not gonna hurt me."

You'd long since perfected sneaking into Derek's loft to see Isaac. You suspected that he knew you were there. Being a seasoned werewolf, you were sure he could hear the extra heartbeat, if not smell your scent.

But you didn't care, and clearly neither did he.

But Isaac? Isaac cared.

Ever since he became a werewolf, and you were further pulled into the bullshit that came along with that, he’d been protective in a way he hadn’t before.

You weren’t sure if it was a wolf thing or if Isaac felt some kind of obligation to you. Either way, you wouldn’t let him keep you out of it.

Tossing the wipe in the trash, you put your hand to his now clean cheek. "Relax."

He eyed you for a long moment, searching, before he took a deep breath and leaned into your touch.

The shape of his jaw pressed into your palm, his hand wrapping around your wrist gently, as if just to touch you.

Silence surrounded you, only the sound of your heartbeats and breathing cutting through.

That and the tension that hung palpably in the small space between you.

"You know," he pulled at the new hole in his shirt. "I think you better get this one, too."

You smiled, shaking your head. "I guess I better."

He wasted no time in pulling the material over his head and tossing it somewhere else in the room, making you laugh.

You scooted closer to him, crossing your legs under you and pulling another wipe from the package.

"Oh, Isaac," you said, taking in the wound. "It must've hurt."

He shrugged. "You'd be surprised how much the adrenaline can mask...and I'm used to pain."

He was so close now, close enough you could feel his breath on your cheek as you cleaned him up.

You focused on the task at hand because if you didn't, you'd notice the way he was staring at you. And you weren't sure what you'd do if you met his eyes.

He was fitter than he used to be, the tone of his chest and abs more prominent, his arms more muscular.

You unconsciously lifted your other hand to drag it down his chest.

He shivered under your touch. "Y/N..."

You swallowed, stilling your hand on his shoulder as you continued to clean him up.

"Y/N," he said again, making you look up at him.

His eyes were already on you, as you suspected, looking at you with so much intensity you wondered what he was thinking.

"Yes?"

He was so beautiful, especially this close.

You could see every line on his face, every freckle, every mole. The sculpt of his nose, the part of his lips. The dim light made the blue of his eyes seem darker, or maybe that was just the way he was looking at you.

He lightly pushed down your hand that had stilled on his chest so that he could lean closer, brushing his nose against yours.

"Tell me you want this."

His breath fanned your lips, and you sucked in a breath. "Isaac-"

"I can hear your heartbeat," he said. "I can tell how nervous you are...don't be. Tell me you want this."

You released the breath, shakily. "Yes. Yes, please, kiss me."

He leaned in, pressing his lips softly against yours.

You kissed him back, hesitantly. So hesitantly that he stopped, but didn't go far, allowing you the power to continue if you wanted. And you did.

More confidently this time, you kissed him. And he kissed you back.

You didn't realize how much you'd wanted this until now. How kissing him felt akin to breathing; natural, easy, like if you stopped, you might die.

It was a natural progression that he pulled you closer by your waist, his hands rough but gesture gentle, slow.

Your hands slid their way over the shape of his arms, then shoulders, then neck before they finally stopped to tangled themselves in his hair.

He hummed into your mouth, dragging his tongue over your bottom lip, and you parted them. His tongue slid over yours, experimentally, trying to find a rhythm.

You tugged against his hair.

That caused him to moan.

His fingers were ghosting just under your shirt when-

"Isaac, I need you to- oh my god."

You jumped apart, faces burning, as Derek stood in the doorway of Isaac's room.

It was pointless to try to look innocent, Isaac was shirtless for Christ's sake.

"Okay, I've clearly let this go on too long, I don't need you having sex in here."

"We weren't going to have sex!" Isaac protested, and you hid your face in your hands.

"Maybe not yet," Derek replied, crossing his arms. "How'd you get here anyway?"

"Walked," you replied sheepishly.

"Great, now I'm going to have to take you home. They're going to think I've kidnapped you."

"I can walk home."

"After that fight today? I'm surprised you made it here, let alone getting back."

"I can take her back," Isaac offered.

"And have you get busy in my car? Yeah, no, thanks."

"We wouldn't-" Isaac groaned. "Fine."

"Let's go. Now."

Too embarrassed to protest, you stood and followed Derek out the door.

Boyd and Erica were sitting in the main room and looked at you with wide eyes when they saw you come out of Isaac's room.

Great, you thought. Now it looks like a walk of shame.

"Y/N, wait."

You turned as Isaac came out of his room, holding your jacket in his hand.

"You, uh, forgot this," he said, blushing as everyone looked at him.

Face hot, you took it from him. "Thanks."

You put it on as Derek grabbed his keys and the two of you disappeared out the door.

Then Boyd and Erica's eyes drifted back to Isaac.

"...what?"

Erica split into a grin. "So, Stilinski, huh?"

"Shut up."

[sylusplushie]

summary: you're going through a stressful time and you surrender yourself to sylus

𖹭𖹭𖹭

you were going through a stressful time. your mind was too full, you couldn't think clearly. your depressive mood was eating and draining you from the inside. maybe stress was normal, but you couldn't control it. at some point you couldn't even tolerate yourself. you wanted to do nothing, literally nothing.

you sat on the bed, wearing a thin nightgown that reached down to your knees. you pulled your legs up to your chest, put your chin between your knees and just stayed like that for a while. times like these came and went, yes, but it didn't make you feel good at that moment. besides, you didn't want to talk to anyone. yes, not even to him. you didn't want to overwhelm sylus with your problems, you didn't want him to have to deal with your problems when he already had enough of his own. you pretended that everything was fine, forgetting how well he knew you.

sylus opened the door slowly and walked in. he knew something was wrong, of course he did. he sighed when he saw you curled up in a ball on the bed. seeing you upset made him even more upset, you kind of set the mood for him. he approached you slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed. ''sweetie…'' he gently brushed your hair out of your face, he wanted to look at you. he grabbed your chin and turned your face towards him, he could read everything in your eyes. ''i'm fine.'' you mumbled, but he didn't believe a word you said. ''don't expect me to believe you.''

he put his hand on your cheek, his thumb stroked under your eye. “if you don't want to tell me what happened, then don't.” he whispered. he took you in his arms and sat you on his lap, made you rest your head on his chest. “but let me keep you company. let me share your silence, your pain.“ his words brought tears to your eyes. all the emotions you had repressed were coming out. you were unable to speak, as if someone was squeezing your throat. ”sshh…” he stroked your hair, massaged your scalp. it was killing him to see you like that. he closed his eyes, lowered his head and inhaled the scent of her hair. ''you don't need to hold yourself back. let your emotions come out. you want to cry? cry.'' you felt his breath in your hair, his presence reassured you. you wrapped your arms tightly around him, you needed him, more than anything. you rubbed your nose against his neck and finally tears started to stream down your cheeks.

sylus held you tightly, rubbing soft circles on your back, stroking your hair. ''everything will pass. everything will be fine.'' he held you close to him, feeling your tears on his skin. you trembled like a wounded bird in his arms, and his heart trembled to see you like that. ''this won't last forever, my love. no pain is permanent.'' he continued to tell you what was in his heart. you were crying as you listened to him, but you felt yourself relaxing. it was as if tons of weight were slowly lifting off you. ''sometimes i feel so helpless.'' you murmured through your tears. ''i feel hopeless, a failure. i… i can't help myself.''

sylus listened to you carefully, pressing soft kisses into your hair. ''you're so strong.'' he whispered in your ear, you could feel his voice deep in your soul. ''you can't imagine what you've been through. you'll get through this, you'll overcome everything. but…'' he held your chin and lifted your head, looked into your eyes for a while. he stroked your lower lip with his thumb as he looked into your eyes, swollen and red from crying. ''…but you don't have to go through it alone. you're not alone. i'm here.''

he took your cheeks in his hands and wiped away your tears. ”i can't take your pain away from you, but i can make you share it with me. i don't want to see those beautiful eyes of yours crying with sadness anymore. haven't you cried enough already?”

you didn't understand his last sentence very well, you weren't sure what he meant, but you couldn't dwell on it. ''i will always hold your hand, no matter what.” he said, smiling softly. he took your hand and brought it to his lips, turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand. you felt your heart soften as you looked at him, you were glad you had him.

“get some rest. sleep will do you good.” sylus was about to put you to bed when you stopped him, you had other plans. “sylus… can i sleep on your lap?”

sylus' curious expression was replaced by a smile, his eyes softened. ''of course, of course, my darling. come here.'' he took you in his arms, held you like a baby and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. ''I'll be here when you wake up, right next to you.'' he hummed a soothing melody to help you fall asleep easily, stroking your hair. you felt your eyelids feel heavy, your eyes were already hurting from crying. there was an indescribable pleasure in sleeping after crying. soon your body relaxed and you fell asleep in sylus' arms.

he kissed you from your cheek to your chin, his eyes never leaving you for a moment. “my most precious treasure. from now on i will be with you every moment, i promise.”

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗟𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: The Hanahaki Disease is a rare illness where the patient throws up and coughs flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. In order to fully recover from the disease, it's necessary that the one they're in love with fall in love with them too. Or to fall in love with somebody else.

WARNING: Throwing up, blood, stomachaches, lung aches, one-sided love, crying, death talk. PURE ANGST, with a happy ending.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Part 2

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Panting and covered in a thin layer of sweat, Y/N found herself emerging from the whirlwind of bad memories that enveloped her sleep. Her heart hammered in her chest, echoing in the silence of the night. With numb hands, she reached for the bedside lamp, bathing the room in soft yellow light.

Her heart seemed to be squeezed as the images still danced in her mind, an unwanted reminder of the emotional turmoil that consumed her.

In the center of his room, Y/N remembers seeing Chris sitting on his own bed with a relaxed expression. Next to him is another girl, perfect, with long hair and a radiant smile, who seems too comfortable in his presence. Their gaze met briefly with a complicity she knew very well, but at that moment, it cut through her like a sharp blade. His sparkling blue eyes carried a glow of intense love that she understood well because she saw it in her own eyes every time she thought of him.

Y/N closed her eyes tightly, running her trembling fingers through her hair, trying to ground herself when a sensation that was already quite common for her captured her throat. Coughing softly, she felt something strange shifting from her lungs. A heavy sigh escaped her nostrils at the sight of small rose petals cascading onto the fabric of the sheet covering her legs.

The initial feeling of sameness quickly turned into panic as she felt increasingly suffocated. The petals continued to sprout, climbing up her throat like a reverse slide and sliping from her lips between each cough, like a dark warning of an unrequited love that was eating away at her insides.

In a moment of frightening lucidity, she seemed to remind herself that this was just another attack of the dreaded Hanahaki disease. Flower petals, once symbols of beauty and romance, have become signs of a silent curse for Y/N weeks before.

The famous, but so rare illness that haunted the passionate hearts of those who dared to love without restrictions. When a soul found itself consumed by unrequited love, its body rebelled, expelling flowers and petals through painful coughs, a physical testimony to the deep emotional wounds that afflicted the heart.

It was quite hypocritical of the universe to create such a disease that affected those who love. Suffering from unrequited love was already too much, but apparently not enough.

Each cough was an explosion of petals that escaped her slightly bruised lips, dark red blood vibrating against the yellowish light, leaving a messy and disgusting trail. Y/N clenched her hands into fists on her sides, feeling her limbs give involuntary spasms, the flowers gathering on the bed around her more and more.

The strange, distressing sound of coughing echoed through the hallway of her house, cutting through the silence like a cry of distress. Nick, who was staying in the guest room - better known as his own room - wakes up suddenly.

His brain barely had time to register his sleepy mind or what time it was, worry consuming him as soon as his eyes opened, getting up from the bed abruptly. His feet tripped over the pieces of clothing thrown on the floor while his hands rested momentarily on the wall decorated with posters, trying to regain his balance.

The boy runs towards his best friend's room blindly, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He pushes the door open hard, finding the devastating scene. Y/N was above her own bed, curled in on herself, surrounded by a sea of ​​petals, her face contorted in agony.

Without hesitation, Nick approaches, calls for her name escaping his mouth, desperately seeking a way to ease her pain.

"Shh, I'm here, I'm here." Nick whispers softly, kneeling on the floor next to her body and reaching out to gently stroke her back with one of his hands, his other one hovering over the sheets, feeling imposing at the sight of the confusing and unlikely mess of blood. "It's going to be okay, I promise."

With difficulty, Y/N looks up to meet the blue ones looking back at her, her teary eyes reflecting a mixture of pain and gratitude.

"Nick, I don't know what to do anymore..." She murmurs, her voice weak and shaky. Nick smiles tenderly in response, his free hand traveling to her clenched one, grabbing it firmly.

"Let's take one step at a time, okay? First, let's help you calm down." He carefully helps her to her feet, guiding her to the bathroom while whispering words of comfort.

Upon entering the small room, the brunette quickly guides her to sit on the closed lid of the toilet, moving nimbly to turn on the bathtub with warm water, adding a few drops of lavender essential oil that he knows is her favorite, with the intention of helping her body relax.

"Come here." Nick helps her stand again, helping her trembling arms undress her body, keeping it covered only by her underwear. "Let the water soothe you."

He holds her right hand firmly, guiding her until she sinks into the hot water. A sigh scapes Y/N's lips, feeling the heat enveloping her tense limbs as Nick sits on the floor beside the bathtub edge, ready to help her with the necessary.

"You will be okay." Nick whispers gently, watching the girl close her eyes and try to control her coughs.

While he offers her support with a calm aura never seen before in Nicolas Sturniolo, his heart is torn between care for her and a fierce anger toward his own brother that boils inside him, fueled by pain to see her in that state and injustice by what he witnessed every day since Y/N discovered the consequences of her unrequited love.

Nick holds himself back from screaming, from letting his fury consume all the space between them. But even in his silence, the girl could feel the tension emanating from his body, the intensity of his emotions throbbing in the air.

Nick vividly remembered the day he discovered the terrible truth about the Hanahaki disease that afflicted his best friend. He could almost see her anguished expression again, the silent tears that ran down her face as she confessed what a torment her unrequited passion had become. The memory of the revelation echoed in his mind like an incessant echo, mixing with Chris's trembling image.

Nick quickly shook his head, expelling the bad thoughts and feelings, focusing all his attention on the girl in front of him.

After Y/N had calmed down a bit, he helped her out of the tub, wrapping her in a soft towel before guiding her back to the bedroom, where he had her sit on one of her pink puffs, seeking for a comfortable set of sweatshirts, ironically, from Fresh Love in her closet.

"Are you feeling any better?" Nick asks her softly after making sure that her body was already covered in the warm outfit, his eyes observing her figure hugging the wet towel in her arms as if it were a teddy bear.

"A little." Her voice came out hoarse and worn out by the force she exerted when expelling the petals and flowers, feeling her throat scratchy with each breath.

"Come on, let's change the sheets so you can go back to sleep. You need the rest more than ever right now."

Together, they remade the bed, removing the scattered petals and replacing the sheets with fresh, clean ones, where the two lay down together, Y/N gently asking Nick not to leave her alone again.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The next day, Tuesday, after a restless night, Y/N and Nick headed to his house. It was recording day, and the oldest triplet couldn't find the courage to leave her behind. The atmosphere inside the car was tense but comforting. The girl drove cautiously, keeping close attention to the sensations in her body.

Upon climbing the entrance stairs, the two were greeted by the random sounds of a movie that escaped from the television sneakers and the silly fights between Chris and Matt, who were in the living room, thrown comfortably on the soft couch.

The wooden kitchen table was already filled with 21 different drinks that the boys would have to try and blindly guess the brand and flavor for that Wednesday video

YN tried to smile in greeting, but the weight on her chest seemed to suffocate her. A small "hi" escaped her lips, her hands quick to place her purse on the floor, next to the couch, before sitting on the other end of the upholstery, bringing her legs together beneath her body.

As she watched the triplets go over what would be done on the video, her gaze inevitably turned to Chris. Her heart sank as she saw him break into the most radiant smile at the mention of his girlfriend after Matt said something that reminded him of her. Every word that escaped his lips was like an arrow piercing her soul, reminding herself of the cruel reality that he belonged to someone else.

Y/N quickly looked away, trying to hide the anguish that was boiling inside her, but every passionate detail he shared about the other girl only intensified her own silent pain. She found herself caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, desperately wishing he could see her while fighting the sadness of knowing that would never happen.

And then it happened. A sudden coughing fit took her by surprise, shaking her body violently. The girl bent her upper body, undoing her intertwined legs and resting the soles of her feet on the floor, panting as the three brothers turned to her with concern. She quickly brought her right hand to her mouth, covering it.

"Is everything okay, YN?" Chris asked, frowning as his eyes ran over her figure.

Y/N tried to smile, but another wave of coughing overcame her. It was as if invisible thorns were piercing her lungs, tearing her from the inside.

"I...I'm fine." The girl muttered, struggling to catch her breath. Her eyes quickly found her palm, blood smeared on her skin, along with small broken petals. She swallowed hard, struggling to control her overflowing emotions. "I think... I need some air." Finally, she confessed, her voice shaking.

Without hesitation, Matt suddenly got up from his seat, walking towards her with agile steps, stopping in front of her body and extending his right hand, offering her help.

"Come with me." The brunette suggested softly, grasping her hand and guiding her out of the room slowly, Chris's confused question about what was happening fading behind their backs.

The two went down to the garage, and despite the pain in her body, Y/N smiled as she stepped foot in the room that was so common, but that meant so much to them. Sunlight filtered between the small windows of the gate, naturally illuminating the space that became small with the van.

Together, they sat on the floor, their backs against the back of the car, the silence comforting as she tried to calm her rapid breathing. Matt remained by her side, offering her silent comfort, his eyes conveying deep empathy, concern, and a hint of something that, despite it being hypocritical of her, Y/N didn't seem to recognize.

"You know..." Matt began, his soft voice breaking through as he fixed his eyes on the gate in front of his outstretched feet. "You could still consider having surgery to remove the flowers."

Y/N nodded slowly, pondering his suggestion.

"I know." She murmured, her voice thick with resignation. "But... I don't know if I can. I don't want to lose our memories."

Matt frowned, his orbs traveling to her side profile, running over every little detail momentarily.

"I understand." He whispered, even if internally, he didn't completely. How could he understand that the love of his life preferred to suffer in an unimaginable way for someone who didn't look at her in the same way that he himself did? "But you know that if you keep going in that way, it will only get worse."

Y/N looked down, tears starting to pool in her eyes. She knew what Matt was talking about.

Hanahaki disease doesn't have many cures, but those that did exist were intense; Having surgery to remove the flowers and, consequently, forget about the love feeling and all the memories that surround it, or having the feeling be reciprocated, or survive with that until your body can't take it anymore.

She knew that if she didn't remove the flowers, she would die. Eventually.

"I know." She admitted, her voice shaking slightly. "But... I can't, Matt. The memories with him, with you two... they mean so much to me. I can't just give them up."

Matt nodded momentarily, his own anguish rising in his chest along with the urge to scream to the seven seas how much he loved her and that he was there to give her the love she deserved.

It was an indescribable pain, witnessing the girl he loved more than anything in the world be consumed by a passion that wasn't towards him, and Matt wished with all his being that he could ease her suffering, even if it meant sacrificing his own heart.

"He's an idiot. For not seeing you, I mean." The brunette muttered, lowering his gaze to the ground between his legs. "He's lucky to have your eyes on him and to receive a love like yours."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N's condition only seemed to worsen, leaving her increasingly weak and vulnerable. Vomiting entire flowers became a frequent occurrence, a constant reminder of her miserable situation.

Now, she was no longer left unsupervised, Matt and Nick taking turns looking after her, despite her complaints and constant fear of becoming a burden.

On a particularly difficult night, she was at their house, in Matt's room, where she would sleep since Nick needed to edit the last Cut The Camera podcast.

The sound of loud laughter came from the living room next to the small hall that led to where she was; Chris and his girlfriend were playing some video game on the television. The sound was like a knife to the heart, and Y/N couldn't help but curl up beneath the thick duvet, feeling a wave of nausea and despair approaching her.

Matt, who was sitting in his gaming chair while answering some emails on his computer, soon realized her imminent agony, rising from the chair abruptly as violent coughs echoed through the walls of his room.

"Hey, hey, I'm here." Matt crouched on the floor next to her body, murmuring softly. His blue eyes ran over her fragile figure while his hand quickly found home on her back, massaging the covered skin.

Carefully, Matt pulled the duvet down her body, straightening his posture and picking her up in his arms, quickly carrying her into his bathroom. The boy helped her sit on the edge of his bathtub comfortably, with her face above the open toilet.

The boy gathered the loose strands of her hair into a loose ponytail secured by his right hand. He grabbed the washcloth from the sink, dipping it into the running water of the tap before pressing the wet fabric over her forehead.

"That's it, let it all out, sweetheart." He whispered, his voice soft like a comforting breeze.

His blue eyes squeezed shut as the sound of a loud sob followed one of her coughs, his own eyes filling with tears. Matt caught his bottom lip between his teeth in a death grip, swallowing back his sobs.

As the coughs slowly subsided, Y/N felt relief seep into her being, small sniffling escaping her nose while thin tears ran down her reddened cheeks, a deep sense of tiredness taking over her body. She felt completely exhausted.

"Are you feeling like throwing up again?" Matt asked gently, stroking her shoulders with his free hand, receiving a small shake of head in return. "Okay, do you want to go back to bed?"

"I... I don't want to get the sheets dirty if... If another crisis comes." She murmured, her voice weak and tired.

Matt nodded understandingly, a gleam of determination in his eyes. He quickly reached out with his hand that was previously on her back, pressing the flush and closing the toilet lid.

"You're okay." The boy whispered, his voice soft like a comforting breeze. "Come here."

He settled on the cold bathroom floor, resting his back against the freezing walls. Matt gently pulled her to sit next to him, his arms wrapping around her shoulders in a protective hug.

Y/N leaned against him, laying her head on his right shoulder and looping her arms weakly around his torso, feeling the comforting warmth of his body against hers. Their hearts beat in unison, sharing the weight of their worries, fears, and loves.

"Sleep, honey. I'll be right here when you wake up." He murmured softly in her ear, his words echoing almost as a promise of comfort and safety.

For a moment, Y/N allowed herself to close her eyes, letting herself be carried away by the feeling of peace that Matt's arms gave her, which she never felt anywhere else. Her breathing began to get lighter, indicating that sleep was finally approaching.

With a heart heavy with love, Matt gently leaned his head over hers, his lips delicately brushing her hair as he whispered words of love in the silence of the bathroom, believing that the girl was sleeping.

"If you only knew how much I could love you the way you deserve..." He murmured in a soft, loving tone. "I love you more than anything in this world, and I promise to take care of you forever, even when you are not aware of it."

The girl was slightly startled when she heard the words, her heart beating wildly in her chest and surprise flooding her mind. She expected everything but that. However, she remained quiet, savoring the comforting warmth of his arms and words, which unconsciously touched her heart in a different way. A good way.

Maybe the universe had better things for them.

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[victoria-grimesss]

tear you apart - part III

Part one: here    Part two: here 

masterlist

-> Pairing: König x fem!reader

-> Words: 4.1k

-> Warning: MDNI!, the mask stays ON, unprotected sex, semi-rough sex, König is a giver and a worshiper, some jealousy, mushy feelings, fluff, things are getting cute!!

-> A/N: thank you 100 followers yippee!! masterlist is in the works, let me know if you like the direction this is going and I'm open for any storyline suggestions :) 

You were standing in the courtyard, skipping breakfast today since you just weren’t feeling it.

The ice on the ground had recently been salted so you didn’t slip this time around. The mountain-scape to the north of the base was picturesque and you enjoyed coming out to this area for seclusion and clean air. 

You slipped on a thick black scarf today to conceal the evidence of last night and to help with the fact the heating unit in your dorm section went out overnight so you made sure to bundle up extra. It would have been easier to warm up if König was in bed with you but alas he wasn't. 

It was the morning after your rendezvous with König and to say you were sore was an understatement. The marks he left were scorched on your skin. It pained you to drag yourself to the shower after that night, washing away the smell of him on you. You examined yourself afterward and he was not delicate with his placement. Dark purple marks dotted your jawline and down your neck. Teeth marks are evident too. Purple painted your hips in the same shape of his fingers and if you concentrated hard enough you could still feel his grasp on you. You thought deeply of that night as you took in a deep breath of cold air, butterflies danced in your stomach and the embers of that night flickered within you. 

“Hey Y/N!! Funny seeing you here!” Bennet, one of the new recruits you befriended recently, was walking toward you while warming his hands. He was alright looking, he would be handsome if your brain wasn't already preoccupied replaying the unholy things König had done to you the previous night and thinking of the other things he could do to you.

“It’s quite cold out here, you actually like it?” He has that picturesque crest bright white smile and he's clean shaven, his eyes stay locked on your lips for a bit too long and you shuffle your feet bringing the scarf up to your mouth to breath heat into it.

“I don’t mind it, it's refreshing out here. Easy to relax, gets a bit much inside sometimes.”

He laughs, it’s light and he's everything opposite of konig. He's soft where König is hard, and light where he is deep. 

“Not used to such close quarters? It’s not all that bad right? Pretty girls like you make it much easier.” 

Oh.

He's flirting. 

You assumed he wasn't out here for friendly conversation after all, I guess he didn't hear word of the noises coming from the colonel's office the other night and that someone had seen you exit.

“Look Bennet-”

“Enjoying the weather?” His voice booms as the door slams open, his shoulders are back and his head held high. You’ve become conditioned into becoming tense with anticipation just at the sound of his voice.

He walks over, you wonder how long he was watching before he busted out of the door, did he see Bennet flash his hollywood smile at you like a bird flashes his feather during courting season? He seems wound up, tense and his eyes are dark.

Bennet straightens his back, greeting his superior, not knowing of the connection the two of you have. Your eyes bounce between the two. 

“Colonel sir, I was just speaking to my friend Y/N-”

“Were you now? I could swear you had-” he moves his arm, his sleeve slipping from his watch and he brings the watch to his face. “-Bathroom and laundry duty at about this hour, soldier? Or am I mistaken?” König stands at his full height, towering over Bennet and bringing both arms to cross his chest.

“No, sir you’re not I was just-”

“You will do your job and do as you're told, you'd be best to stick to it yea?” He’s mean and gritty but you like it. He asserts his authority without forgiveness and you assume that's why he has the rank and position he does. His gaze never leaves Bennet, the other man shrinking under his spotlight.

“Yes, of course sir.” Bennet shuffles off, your gaze is on the door he left in and the courtyard is silent. There's a long pause and it feels like time has frozen.

You hear König take a deep inhale and slowly release the exhale.

Then he turns his body so it faces you completely.

He’s equipped himself with all his gear today and he looks massive as usual.

“Mein süßes Mädchen you look lovely today.” 

“König, that was quite crass how you treated Bennet, he's a friend of mine.”

His eyes visibly roll,

“I know you come out here to clear your heads and for that you need solitude my love.” 

“Well you’re out here so I can't clear my head now can I?”

“I thought my company would be enriching for your experience.” His eyes crinkle and you meet them, admiring how the black paint around his eyes makes his blue eyes brighter.

“Your company is always very enriching.” You mean this in more than one way of course. If the others at base knew that you talked so casually with the colonel they would be shocked, yes he can be intimidating when needed but sometimes he is sweet.

“You certainly seemed to enjoy your visit to my office, I hope the grand tour met your standards.”

“They most definitely did, and then some.” You blush, bringing the scarf to your mouth again to warm yourself.

He tilts his head at your action.

“You hide the marks I gave to you?” 

“Well, I’m not sure you wanted the others to know that we’re ya know… sleeping together.”

He scoffs,

“I would love everyone to see them, it is a visible mark of my admiration to you, my loyalty to you. If others have problems with it they can take it up with me yea?”

His hand makes its way to your cheek and he cups it in his palm, your eyes close and admire the way you can easily sink into his touch so easily.

He moves his hand from your cheek to the scarf, unraveling it and he takes a deep breath when he reveals the many marks he scattered on you. The scarf stays in his grasp and he takes your chin in his grasp with his forefinger and thumb turning your heads up to him. His eyes are dark again as he looks upon you.

“You are beautiful, I will only be upset for a moment when these marks vanish because it gives me a reason to scatter you with even more next time.” 

His romantic words never fail to erupt butterflies within you and you are still astonished at how he can be such different men, a violent soldier, a soft romantic, and a starved lover.  

He clears his throat, hands moving from your chin to your shoulder and down your arm until he gathers your hand in his. He moves your hand under his mask and kisses your fingers gently, his eyes never leaving yours and you get a feel for his lips on your skin and you shiver but not from the cold this time.

“It pains me to leave you Schatz but I will see you later, don't go messing around with other boys alright? They’re no good for you.” 

“I wouldn't dream of it.” You smile and part ways, this day could not go any slower.

—

Never had you had a hard time concentrating before, you’re a trained soldier and damn good at your job, you’ve taken out squads of men with no alarm raised or suspicion drawn but the only thing on your mind as you’re in the gym is König. König, König, König. He’s like a parasite, digging and infesting in your brain, ruining all other men and options for you. It's only him now.

You try to avoid the stares in the gym, the workout top you wear hides very little of the bruises and lingering teeth marks and you just try to tune out the side eyes and lingering looks. 

As your workout ends you make your way to the locker-room and Bennet once again invades your vision.

“Hey Y/N- oh shit, someone really did a number on you! Didn't know a girl like you was into all that.” He winks and his eyes are only on the marks not looking you in the eyes.

“Oh these, yea well ya know how it is, girls got needs.” You give a halfhearted laugh just wanting to shower.

“Oh I know very well, if you ever need help with those needs I can definitely help you with those.” He's smirking and you grow sour at these unwanted words, about to tell him off when a hand slams onto his shoulder.

“I appreciate your concern, but her needs are well taken care of in my hands, right Schatz.” He always comes to you right when you need him and his eyes are so dark and his grip on Bennet’s shoulder is so tight the clothes are heavily wrinkled under his hand. Bennet’s eyes are wide as they race from you to König.

“I-um I didn't know you were with him.”

“It’s an honest mistake, she’s a very pretty girl and a wonderful lover. I am extremely lucky to have her. But I’ll let you know if you ever speak to her in this manner again I won't hesitate to crush you alright?”

Bennet's face has gone pale and he scurries off once König releases him, holding his shoulder as he leaves.

“König.”

“Come with me.”

He gives no room for argument. He grabs your hands and whisks you away out of the gym. You have to walk at double speed to keep up with his pace.

“König, I need to shower.” You try to protest but he keeps walking.

“I will have you as you are, you think a little sweat will deter me?” His voice is deep and you know seeing another man pester you twice in the same day has sparked some kind of primal urge within him. You have no complaints either way.

“Where are we going?” The twists and turns of the base make you dizzy and he moves with such speed you've gone into a trace following him blindly just watching the way he knows this place like the back of his hand. 

“Quiet, you'll know soon enough.”

People sure have a staring problem around here because they stare you down as he leads you down the halls.

You finally reach the door and he opens it and ushers you in quickly closing it and slamming you against the door. 

Your heart is racing again as it does when he's around and his hands can't seem to be still upon you; they trace the lengths of your hips to your waist, bringing you closer to him each time.

“Meine Taube forgive me but I must have you, you understand right? All of them stare, they wish to be in my position but I know none of them could touch you as I do, feel you as I do.” 

You stare through your lashes up at him and he discards his helmet leaving his mask and the rest of his gear on.

“I would never have anyone as how I have you, how I let you have me.” 

He groans, leaning over you and his head rests on your shoulder before he lifts his mask just above the peak of his nose, exposing his jaw and lips to you. You’re left silenced and before you can think to utter a sound his lips crash to yours and he consumes your moans and whines as if he's starved.

His hands become crazed and he holds your hips and lifts you so you wrap your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck. 

He groans as he grinds his hips into yours, your back pressed against the door and your hand wanders under his mask from behind and you grip his hair tugging it forcefully. He pulls back from your lips at that moment and you get a good look at his lips. They're parted and kiss swollen, he's panting and the stubble on his jawline sends another wave of heat downwards.

He smirks and you can see the sharpness of his canine teeth, you can practically feel them already.

“See something you like?” You meet his eyes and your face darkens.

“I see a lot of things I like.”

His mouth crashes back onto yours and he continues his assault until he locks his lips onto your neck once again biting, licking, and sucking with no abandonment. You throw your head back, hitting the door but you feel no pain or really anything besides him and the heat radiating from between your legs.

“Lets get the prinzessin somewhere more comfortable yea?” He carries you the distance to his bed and in the short walk you see he has a much bigger bed than provided to the rest of the troops, makes sense, you doubt he can even fit into the regular sized ones. His bedding looks comfortable, the bed made neatly and everything in his room is neat and pristine. Up to code.

He lays you down onto the bed and you sink into it, you nearly moan at how comfortable it is.

“Not fair you get such a comfortable mattress and I’m subjected to a damn near plywood board.”

He laughs in between kisses as he unbuttons your shirt.

“Liebling you will never see your bed again, I must implore you spend your nights in mine.”

He sucks and kisses down your chest reaching behind you and undoing your bra clasp with one hand and throwing it far across the room.

“I-I would have a much better time sleeping here. I wouldn't mind that.”

“We wouldn't do much sleeping.”

Oh. So bold.

You throw your head back as he cups one breast and latches his mouth to the other.

“I’m sorry my love, I didn't get to indulge you in this last time.” He kisses again. “But I swear no where will be left untouched on you, I’ll have to be killed to be parted from you.”

You hands grasp anywhere they can as he continues his ministrations and you grasp his shirt.

“Take this off, now.”

He leans back on his knees and stares down at you, eyes heavy with lust.

“Your wish is my command.” He strips himself of the chest gear and shirt in record time and his chest is heaving as he leans atop of you again. His dog tags dangling over you, catching the spare light in the room. His mouth kisses down your stomach, the cool metal of the tags freezing after his searing lips, and unbuttons your pants sliding the zipper down with his teeth. You feel his hot breath on the front of your panties and the sight of him is ponographic.

“Oh god König I’m going to fucking explode if you dont hurry it the fuck up.” You groan and twist your hips to get him to do something, anything.

“Schatz you are too hasty, you are like artwork. I need to admire you as you are and appreciate what lies before me. Be patient and you will be heavily rewarded.” He strips your pants off maintaining eye contact the whole time and kisses from the band of your panties all the way back to your lips and he kisses sweetly this time touching the now exposed thighs and places his whole hand on your heat cupping it in his hand and he groans once more. 

“You make my self control crumble you know that?” He traces his fingers up and down your core sliding your panties to the side to continue the motion.

“I cannot help myself when I’m around you, you could say the most awful things to me and I would still kiss the ground you walk on.”

“I would never say anything mean to you König, never.” He kisses your lips and you bite his lower lip as he leans back.

“I know you wouldn't, that's why I keep you all to myself.”

He slips a finger in and you clench around him, growing hotter and panting heavier. You move a hand down his broad expansive chest, scars littering it as proof of the man he is, of the hard work he's done. You cup him as well, stroke him over his pants and he sucks in a breath his movements of his fingers stutter.

“Liebling, Scheiße”

You look at him innocently as you unbutton and unzip his pants, releasing him from his boxers and taking him in your hand.

“What? I’m not doing anything.” You smile and stroke him lightly, his hips thrust into your hand and his eyes lock onto yours like you're treading thin ice.

Your thumb circles the tip collecting the leak that sprouts from him and he shudders again.

His fingers work on you faster and your hand gets uncoordinated on him and your vision starts to go hazy.

He hums, clearly pleased with his work on you.

“What wrong soldier, having trouble concentrating?” He laughs and you don't hear him anymore as you reach your peak, your hand that's not gripping him carving nail marks into his shoulder.

He draws two more orgasms from you with his fingers alone, you can imagine his fingers are pruned now with how soaked he's managed to make you. Your mind has been melted, remolded and melted again. You had let go of your grasp on him to hold tightly to his shoulder but he didn't seem to care, his mind was only on preparing you for the main event. His tip was leaking and had made a sizable puddle on your midsection.

“You think you’re ready for me now mein liebling?” He holds himself in his hand tracing the tip across your core and you scoot yourself closer to him trying to inch him in, he holds you hip in place.

“You heard me? You ready my dear?”

“Yes König, just get on with it, I can't wait any longer.” 

“Of course my love.” He leans down to capture your lips and at the same time your tongues meet he enters you and it's the most lovely feeling you've ever felt. A tear slips down your cheek and if the sun exploded right now you would have no care in the world.

He sinks fully and brushes hair from your face, kissing your cheek and moves his hips out then back in to start a good rhythm. You both groan at the initial feeling and your hands move under his mask that has now dropped back down over his face to cup his jawline. He moves his head in your hand and kisses your palm, his eyes heavy on you, eyelids droopy and pupils dilated so wide his eye color would be perceived as black and not their original blue color. 

You moan softly and the hand that was braced holding himself has moved to your hip and you look between the two of you and observe the way you connect. You can feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten up once again. König is insatiable, he dives into your heat with no sign of stopping, each breath whine and moan that escapes your lips only adds to his stamina and pleasure. He starts to speed his thrusts and the metal bars of the bed start a rhythmic banging against the wall, if you weren't so drunk off of him right now you would feel back for the neighbor but you don't care right now and can only think of König as he fills your vision. The new marks on your body sting and the way he grips your hip has you dripping on him and you can hear the evidence and you know he can too.

“You are a goddess incarnate, you know that. Like a siren I am drawn back to you each time I leave you. You pull me back into you so deliciously I cannot ever leave, I could spend all eternity inside you and never grow bored.”

His words tighten the coil within you even more and you throw your head back, drawing more and more like into his back and he growls.

“Yes Liebling, use me to express your pleasure, take it out on me and I shall give it back to you a thousand times. I can feel you getting closer, do not hold back on me.”

He's harsh now with his movements and he's getting closer too, he's moved your legs to his shoulder and he's delved even deeper into you and you nearly, no you do scream his name, and it's loud.

“König, I'm close, don't stop.” He continues his abuse and his thrusts grow unrhythmic. He bends over you, your head is thrashing side to side as you near your limit and he holds your head steady in his large grip making you look straight at him. His dog tags sway in front of your vision like a metronome keeping you in this trance-like state of euphoria.

“Look at me. Good girl, go ahead and make a mess.” He fucks you through your orgasm and he follows right behind you, thrusting deep and you both are locked in a gaze. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you take a deep breath in and let it out, deflating under his gaze and your brain feels mushy.

König shifts, “My love, darling.”

He snaps his fingers in front of your face. His eyes crinkled again and if his eyes could be heart shaped they definitely would be right about now.

“There she is.” He places your legs back on the bed and removes himself carefully kissing you hard on the lips and again on the cheek before he gets up and once again cleans you up, he's topless but in the heat of the moment he never did take off his boots or pants. 

“Thank you.” You say, your voice horse as he's cleaning you up and providing you with clean panties and one of his shirts to wear.

“You don't need to thank me darling, I enjoy taking care of you. You truly deserve it.”

You get up and change into his shirt, it pools on you but it smells of him.

“Beautiful, you should wear my clothes more often.” He watches you like a hawk as you stumble to the bathroom, legs feeling like jelly.

“If shirts 5x my size were part of the military dress code I would take your words into consideration.” 

You hear him laugh as you close the bathroom door and relieve yourself, looking in the mirror you look utterly destroyed, you smooth over your hair and splash your face with water, taking the time to brush your teeth as well.

His bathroom is pristine and smells like citrus, another green flag, he knows how to keep clean.

“I used your toothbrush if that’s alright.” You stop in your tracks, he's striped down to only his boxers and mask. He’s built like a greek god but he’s got some thickness along with his muscle you assume at his age he's just grown more sturdy.

“You’re going to catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that, lay with me. Relax.” He’s laid back on a pillow, only the light of his bedside lamp illuminates the room and he's made a small nest of pillows on your side.

You nestle yourself in the crook of his arm and he wraps his arm around you kissing the top of your head and humming softly a song you don't know.

“Did you mean those things you said, it wasn't just your brain turned to sex mode right?” You beat yourself a bit for plaguing him with the job of reassuring you of his feelings but you want to know his feelings are true.

His hold on you gets a bit tighter.

“I have never felt more sure about something in my life, you have come into my life so suddenly and I will move mountains to keep you in it. I told you I will worship the ground you walk on so let me show you.” He kisses your face in multiple places and all your worries melt away with his touch.

His words glaze over your brain like honey and butterflies erupt from it in droves, you have never even seen this man's full face yet you are so sure you would devote yourself fully to him as he says he will do for you. You fall asleep to the sound of him humming and have never felt more at peace.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Could you do Tristan Lancelot and nasiens jealousy hc thing where someone is jealous of there relationship with their s/o and tries break the relationship up

“What? Hell No!”

Jealousy can be quite the unhealthy thing sometimes, particularly within or toward relationships. Each section may vary on length due to how well I was inspired, I also just used a random name for the jealous person in question.

Anyway, hope this is to your liking! :)

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

A deep unearthly heart, cries to the walls that confined it. The deep gestures were rather wounding, royal and peasant. The little insipid peanut was touching Tristan! You had dared to touch the prince of Liones, when you were meant to be far away from the white-haired prince.

No wonder, that you had unwillingly earned the glares and discontent from unsuspecting onlookers whom deigned your affection from one another. It wasn't really that easy to simply shake off, way too hard to do so anyway. You just tried to stay calm, and smile like you always do when you were around your lover, but you couldn't suppress the chill up your spine you get when you even garnered an ounce of affection toward Tristan.

Surely though, you were bound to be casted with such glares, you were prepared an expected such a thing since it was known and obvious that your relationship with Tristan existed. Just more out in the open now.

Yet, within the days passing you were unsure if you could handle the unbearable extent of the pressure. But you didn't want to bring up you worries with Tristan, after all, he had enough on his plate as a knight of apocalypse. But it was then and there, that you wondered just how long this cold go on before the gaze of your jealous onlooker only remained that -- a gaze. You wondered if they were truly going to act on their intent.

Tristan Liones, the prince of Liones, was nestled in a secluded garden of the palace with you, his significant other, enjoying a rare moment of peace. The garden, lush and blooming under the soft golden light of the setting sun, provided a tranquil refuge from the whirlwind of royal duties and battles. Tristan, in his usual blue and gold attire with his long silver hair catching the sunlight, had his arm wrapped around you, his expression relaxed and his usual stern demeanor softened by your presence.

As you both laughed over a shared joke, the sound of footsteps on the gravel path alerted you to an unwelcome presence. From the shadows, a figure emerged—Elara, a once-trusted noblewoman from a neighboring kingdom with a burning jealousy in her eyes. She had long harbored resentment toward the relationship between you and Tristan, feeling that she deserved his attention and favor more than anyone.

Underneath her graceful exterior, a dark, scheming intent brewed. She approached with a false smile, her voice dripping with honeyed malice as she inquired about your plans for the upcoming royal event.

You had already stepped forward and began your conversation with Elara, leaving Tristan to watch the both of you as it went.

"So, what do you plan to do? I could help you pick out a dress," Elara said, grinning as she held out her hand toward you. You shrugged, somewhat deigning confusion.

"That's really nice of you, but I think I got it." You nodded, putting your hands on your hips. "But I'm happy to see you there, right?"

Beneath, her blood almost boiled with anger and resentment. Elara was oh so close to just merely getting rid of you, but she sighed, gritting her teeth through a forced smile.

"Yes, I do hope to see you there."

Tristan’s gaze sharpened, sensing the underlying hostility. He gently squeezed your hand, his protective instincts kicking in. You turned your gaze, albeit subtly as you had noticed the squeezing of your hand right as can be.

Unperturbed, Elara proceeded with her veiled threats and subtle manipulations, trying to sow discord and drive a wedge between you and Tristan.

Her attempt was not just about personal gain but also a strategic move to destabilize the harmony within the royal family, hoping to exploit any cracks she could create.

Tristan's blue and emerald eyes, usually calm, now glinted with a stormy intensity as he silently vowed to shield you from her venomous schemes. His resolve was palpable, a mix of fierce loyalty and the unyielding determination of a prince and Holy Knight, ready to confront any threat to protect the love that meant the world to him. It truly was quite the complicated world to be in, when it came to royal and civilian (albeit you being a fellow knight) relationships.

Pressure was something undoubtedly difficult.

𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐭

Honestly, it would be a rarity to figure out that there would be anyone that would hold any jealousy of your relationship together. There isn't a lot alive who know about Lancelot, as he doesn't hold a lot of popularity among being the prince of Benwick. But there if there is, it could be a few former fairy friends that Lancelot used to have.

Among the thresholds of cruelty and malcontent, he may as well have stopped being friends with the insipid fairies for good reason. At each corner, at each four ends of the world he could only find liars and cheaters. Which had, at least casted him as an outlier due to his high walls and blunt aspect of his personality.

When word spread to the tiny nestled kingdom, or perhaps even throughout the land where there is those whom know him. It is full of surprise, his parents were both surprised but happy for their boy, and there are those who are just very much cool about the news. A small speck of resentment and jealousy had sparked however.

You certainly didn't expect to have such chills washing over you, the rubbish goose-bumps appearing then leaving as they were. It had left you wondering for sure, and they had only happened whenever you were near or even close to Lancelot.

Even if you had known about whomever seemed to be jealous of you two, Lancelot had already handled and took care of the situation. Reasonably, of course, he wasn't ill-mannered after all.

It was apparently to your surprise Cedric, one of Lancelot's former fairy friends, if he could even call them that however. Though, he had calmly resolved the situation and heard out Cedric, and from there had managed to direct him to better people to help manage his issues.

Cedric was one of his old friends back before he disappeared alongside with his attendant Jericho, and in knowing how suddenly powerful and strong he's got, loosely in the know about the extent of his chivalry (even toward you, but you knew how awkward Lance could be sometimes) as well.. had made Cedric jealous. So the fairy ended up confronting the blonde prince.

𝐍𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐬

There really isn't an ounce of jealousy or resentment that could be felt from anyone around you, Nasiens couldn't feel anything about it. They simply felt nothing, otherwise they were pretty much happy and content with their relationship with you.

If there truly was any jealousy that could be found, it would probably be hints of envy from Nasiens' friends that they somehow had found a lover or had been far more established way before they all did.

[lint-beetle4]

Is it ok if I can request a Macaque x reader involving hotel sex? I guess Macaque wanted to return the favor after the reader does a lot for him, and he treats her to a hotel for some alone time, given that the reader deserved to relax and he remembers the reader's love for bathing.

One-Night Pleasures (Macaque x Reader) Smut

(Sorry, this might be a bit short lol, been hella tired lately)

Smut below

You didn't expect Macaque to treat you to such a fancy hotel. You honestly didn't expect him to make enough to spare such luxury, but it seems his theater job had been working pretty smoothly.

"How much did this even cost?" You gaped at the room, seeing a large single bed in the middle with red, velvet curtains and white accents decorating the room--god, it looked like something out of a celebrity show.

Macaque simply shook his head, hand waving away the question with a smirk. "Don't worry about it. I'm just making up for that little favor of yours. Really helped me out there."

You turned back to the dark monkey, confusion sinking in to your brain.

"You mean when I let you crash in my house?"

It wasn't much of a favor, in your honest opinion. You loved the monkey to death, so him asking to crash for a while was a welcome surprise for you. Judging from Macaque's expression, it seemed he had other motives for such a question.

"Well, yes, if you want to me technical." Macaque purred, "Buuut, you became a sort of hideout for me while Wukong was getting on my case a bit. Nothing big, just an annoyance like Wukong is."

You chuckled, patting his shoulder with a shake of your head. "Still isn't much of a favor though, isn't it?"

"Are you telling me that you didn't want a pricey hotel with all your favorite foods in it?" Macaque held a hand to his chest. "Ah, you wound me."

You snorted, "I didn't think you'd be able to afford it, genius. You went all out, thanks."

"No problem, cherry blossom." Macaque winked, stretching with a groan. "Well, it is getting pretty late, don't you think? How about a nice bath before we head to sleep?"

He had a point. Outside of the pure luxury of a hotel, he'd taken you on a little vacation: a quiet beach with only you two, foods made for you, small attractions to amaze you. Macaque put in a good amount for you--you were surprised he wasn't more tired.

The water that surrounded you was heavenly, warm with roses lined along the rim of the tub. You traced them lightly, watching as some fell into the water. Behind you, sat Macaque who was picking through your wet hair with a strange determination. You enjoyed how delicate his hands were when he groomed you.

"This is nice," you sighed, leaning back against your lover. "How's my hair doing?"

Macaque huffed a proud sigh, chest puffing slightly. "Amazing, thanks to me."

"Thank you, sweetie." You tilted your head back, kissing his chin. "You always make me look good."

"You look good naturally--I'm just sprucing you up more." Macaque chuckled hugging you closely, hands squeezing your bare chest lightly. You giggle against them, placing your head against the crook of his neck.

"You've done so much work for me, you know. I almost feel bad." You grin.

Macaque shook his head, kissing your forehead. "Don't, you're amazing already. Plus, I was wondering if we could--maybe get one last gift in?"

You tilt your head, silent question in the air.

You received a silent answer, a familiar bump against your back and Macaque's hand squeezing your chest more, circling your nipples. You grin widely, turning yourself around to join Macaque's lips.

You held Macaque's head close, feeling as much of him as you could as his fingers toyed with your nipples, pinching and fondling them gently. You sigh against his lips, feeling his hands drift lower, pausing before they reach your growing issue.

"Macaque--" You whisper, tugging his hand lower. "Touch me."

He didn't need another word, hands going to fondle your ass and stroke through you tenderly. He went slow, tracing your hips and teasing you slightly before giving you the attention you needed with a slight buck of your hips. Macaque chuckled, kissing your neck and jaw with small, sharp bites against your jaw line. You roll your hips against his hand, feeling his padded fingers send shivers through your increasingly hot core.

You groan, exhaling roughly as he prods into you, stretching and stroking you wonderfully, sensitive patches of tissue given the upmost care as you continue to buck into his hand with increasing intensity. Macaque shushed you gently, pulling out before you could feel pressure building up inside of you, threatening your release. You groan as Macaque stopped, hearing his soft voice.

"Wait for me, now. You'll feel better with more than just my hands, silly."

You sighed shakily, nodding with a stifled whine as his fingers slowly leave you. Massaging your thighs, as you felt yourself slowly being filled his dick, stretching with the thick member as Macaque purrs from behind you.

Feeling Macaque's cock buried deep into you, you whine once more, moving your hips impatiently as Macaque nipped at you neck before thrusting into you, your body jerking in slightly surprise. Macaque's movements refused to stop, his thrusts getting louder and faster as your lean back against him, mouth dumbly open as drool slowly pours out of your mouth.

You feel Macaque groan, his hands tightening as he leans heavily against you, his voice rumbling against your back. You pant, moaning through mouth as Macaque's movements became ceaseless, the both of you ignoring the way the water gradually grew colder.

You yelped, nearly screaming as Macaque kept hitting a sensitive spot in you, waves of pleasure tingling through your body as your core tightens ever so slowly. You arched your back, feeling the spot being thoroughly abused as Macaque growled, his teeth now sinking deep into your shoulder, pangs of pain mixing with the near euphoria you were experiencing.

You heard Macaque whine against you, his thrusts becoming desperate as you slowly feel yourself getting closer to your climax. In a snap, your body tensed up as Macaque's teeth sink deeper into you. You moaned loudly, feeling your body go limp as Macaque continues to fill you up, broken thrusts jolting your body as you cum a second time against him with nothing more than a low groan and a shiver.

Macaque slipped out of you, his tongue lapping up your bleeding wound with apologetic licks. You sighed against him, leaning back as he slowly cleaned your body.

Macaque quickly summoned a towel, wrapping you up as he brought some clothes to you, helping you change before he laid you on the bed, nuzzling against you as you stroke his damp mane.

His voice rumbled against your chest, breath tickling your ear as he whispered.

"Thank you for everything, my dear."

[carlsdarling]

Might be a hard one. Carl first arrived to Alexandria, reader was a model before the apocalypse (so she's like really beautiful ). (Smut or fluff your choice <3) and he finds out that reader also has a crush on him. And he's just so proud that he got with a model, telling everyone about it<3 sorry if this is difficult. Love your work btw 💖

Beautiful

Carl has a crush on Y/N, but after his accident, he doesn't dare to ask her out... Bit of a plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, oral (male receiving)

Before the fall, you were an aspiring model, you had already started as a kid and were planning to move to LA. But the apocalypse ruined everything.

When Carl Grimes arrived in Alexandria, you didn't pay much attention to him at first; he was just some guy. Of course he stared at you and had a crush on you - they all did, especially before the fall, when such things played a bigger role. But you weren't interested in Carl for a long time, he was your age and you liked older guys more.

It was only over time, when you started hanging out with the others more often, that you began to like Carl - his courage, his lovable character, his pretty blue eyes and the dark hair that always fell in his face.

Carl, for his part, had just gotten around to asking you out, but before that could happen, the accident occurred in which he lost his eye. After that, Carl withdrew completely, which you thought was a shame because you enjoyed his company.

Carl didn't want to see anyone anymore. You went to his house several times, but Rick or Michonne regretfully turned you away each time because Carl locked himself in his room anyway and wouldn't let anyone in. Eventually, though, you had enough. There was a big birch tree right below Carl's window, and you quickly climbed up it, scrambled onto a canopy and crawled up to Carl's window to knock vigorously.

An astonished sound could be heard from inside, then the curtains were pushed aside and Carl stared at you perplexed - out of the one eye he still had. The wound was covered with a bandage. It was the first time you had seen each other since the accident, and Carl seemed hesitant as to whether he should even open the window. "Carl!" you said indignantly. "Open up. It's cold."

He reluctantly opened the window, turning away from you. "What do you want?" he asked dismissively.

"To check on you," you replied. "You're just locking yourself in here."

Carl stood with his back to you. "It's my business."

"I thought we were friends?" Carl remained silent. "Won't you even look at me?" Dismayed, you noticed that Carl's shoulders were shaking and you realized that he was sobbing. Tentatively, you approached him to hug him.

Carl clutched your hand and cried. "I... I was going to ask you out," he confessed.

"And why aren't you doing that?"

"That was before I lost my eye," he said gloomily. "Everything's different now. Who wants to go on a date with me now?"

You carefully turned Carl around to face you and stroked his tear-stained cheek. "Me?"

Carl looked at you in disbelief.

"But you're so beautiful. Far too beautiful for me. It was like that before, but now..."

You put your hands up at your sides in disgust. "Carl Grimes! Do you think I'm that shallow? Are you? So if this had happened to me, you wouldn't like me anymore?"

Carl stumbled. "Yes, of course, I... I just thought..." You kissed him on the lips before he could continue. Carl was taken aback, but returned the kiss tenderly. You sank onto the bed, where you continued kissing and began stroking each other. Carl had his eye closed; apparently he wanted to concentrate completely on your activities. You could feel the tension he had been carrying around with him for weeks, all his muscles were hardened, and you came to the conclusion that Carl desperately needed some relaxation and stress relief.

So you slid off the bed, knelt down in front of it and positioned yourself between Carl's legs, gently pushing his knees apart and undoing his belt. "Uum..., what are you doing, Y/N?" Carl asked uncertainly.

"Just let me," you whispered, pulling down his jeans. There was a visible bulge in his blue boxers, and as a small wet patch spread across the fabric, Carl blushed. You let your hand ghost over the bulge slowly.

"You... you don't have to do that," he mumbled. „I can take care of it myself, later.“

"But I want to," you objected and also freed him from his boxer shorts. Carl squirmed, and his cock sprang free, and you were quite surprised by Carl's size - it was big for such a slender boy. Carefully you started to stroke and squeeze his dick and cupped his balls with your hand. Carl let out a soft, delighted sigh and closed his eye as he surrendered to your hands. A few drops of clear precum oozed from the rosy-red tip of his dick, and you rubbed them on the skin of his shaft to ease the glide of your fingers. Carl's moans became louder, he had sunk backwards onto the bed, and he was bucking his hips while you continued to caress him. You accelerated the movements of your fist and felt Carl's cock twitch under your touch, more precum flowed over your hand, and you could tell that Carl was beyond close, his hands clutching the mattress as he submitted to you completely. You let go of him briefly to stroke the soft line of dark hair that ran from his private parts to his belly button, then you breathed gentle kisses on the pale skin around his belly button, continuing on the inside of his thighs and finally sucking intensely on the tip of his throbbing dick.

Carl screamed out with pleasure, thrusting so hard into your willing mouth that you began to gag. "Sorry," he gasped as you let go of him, pleading for you to go on. His hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed, he looked so precious and fucked out.

Once again you began to caress his cock with your lips and tongue. Carl whimpered uncontrollably and was writhing on the bed. "Y/N, I... I'm cumming," he gasped, leaving it up to you to decide whether you wanted to pull away or not. You closed your lips even tighter around his dick, then Carl's whole body tensed, he quivered, and then he released a considerable amount of seed into your mouth, a firework of sticky streams. You swallowed all of it and started licking and sucking Carl clean, then you lay down next to him.

You hugged each other. "That was incredible," Carl whispered in your ear, breathless and heated.

"Do you finally believe me that I like you?" you asked teasingly.

Carl just nodded, and from that moment on, you were inseparable and Carl was so proud to be with you.

--

Tags: @loveforcarl @tessasweet @taylormarieee @knochentrocken0808 @xxcarlswifexx

[impishjesters]

First-time jitters (NSFW-ish)

warning(s): kissing, hickeys, suggestive themes, implied lead-up to sex, sexual jokes note(s): Naked twister kind of joke, not anything in a typical Jax insulting joke form. A/N: I actually really liked writing this, it gave me a chance to write just kissing and while I still suck at it, it was something. Plus I can totally see Jax cracking jokes to keep his s/o from being so tense and nervous. Happy that this didn't push me out of my comfort zone, even if it did make me feel weird about writing kisses. I'm not experienced in that department either. request: Hey I was wondering if you could write a very slight NSFW of Jax and the Reader? Maybe this is the reader’s first time and is nervous about it?

“I’ve uh, never done this before…” You mutter nervously, hands playing with the hem of your shirt.

“What sat on a bed with a man?” Jax snorts.

“Ass, you know that’s not—”

“Oh, you’ve never played naked twister? It’s a little slippery I’ll admit.”

“Jax…”

“See you’re already doing a great job, ya already got saying my name down. Though I’d like to hear it a bit louder and more desperately, maybe a tad more breathy.”

You cross your arms in irritation and embarrassment, this was not how you were going to spend your first time if he kept being a little shit lord and keep cracking jokes. You loved him and tolerated enough of this outside of the bedroom, it wasn’t exactly something you were expecting during such an intimate moment.

As if sensing your thoughts Jax took a seat on the bed and leaned closer, placing a hand on each side of you on the bed. “Oh c’mon angel, I’m trying to ease the tension. Ya more wound up than a music box, if ya this tense it’ll hurt. And we don’t want that.”

Jax wasn’t stupid, he could tell you weren’t ready when the topic was officially brought up and told you he was fine waiting. Blue ballin’ sucked but he’d endure it until you were ready—which was tonight, if you were still up for it.

He caught you chewing on your bottom lip and raised a hand to tap at your lips to get you to quit. “Ya know I won’t do anything to hurt you, especially if ya aren’t into it.” You giggle faintly and he slips his fingers over to pinch your cheek. “There we go, loosen up and I’ll help loosen you up so it won’t hurt. Trust me.”

“That’s pretty bold of you to ask me to trust you of all people.” You tease. However, there is reassurance in the tender touch and his tone that has you relaxing more and more into his touch.

Jax rolls his eyes playfully, giving your cheek another pinch before moving the hand back to the bed. “And ya pretty dumb to trust me of all people.” he pokes back.

It’s all in good fun, it’s not typically how he’d treat someone in bed but you aren’t just any random shmuck in his bed. Plus it’s your first time and he’d rather not make it an unpleasant experience, he would like to get laid more than once after all.

Before you can respond he gives you a quick kiss, shifting to get more comfortable on the bed with you but not making any attempts to undress either of you. “We’ll go slow, ain’t gotta get naked right from the start—though I won’t complain if you wanna strip.” His brows waggle suggestively but his tone is far from it.

“Can we just kiss for now?” Kissing isn’t new and it feels like a nice start to everything, you don’t want to back out now but you aren’t going to just force your way straight into sex.

“Sure doll.”

Jax is surprisingly careful with his kisses, each kiss is sweet yet firm until you find yourself getting impatient at the little pecks and run your tongue along his bottom lip. Working around his teeth takes a few minutes but in no time the kisses grow more heated and full of tongue.

The distance between the two of you gradually closes, Jax sits with his legs loosely crossed creating the perfect little spot in the middle for you. He drapes your thighs over his and tugs you closer to create just the right amount of space between the two of you, mainly so he doesn’t have to keep breaking his back to lean in.

Your hands find purchase around his neck while his hands find home on your lower back. It’s no different than the usual make-out session except this will actually lead to more than just the two of you separating and having to wind down or take care of things separately.

Jax is the first to break away, leaving you panting. You’re such a flustered, red mess and he’s soaking up every little noise and expression on your face. Diving back in he dodges your lips much to your confusion and instead aims for your neck. You tilt your head to give him better access and he peppers the area with kisses and the occasional nibble.

He pulls back after a bit, satisfied to see your neck littered with his marks, and gently guides your head to tilt the other way, giving the same attention to the unmarked side. There’s no way someone won’t say something later, the marks are too obvious and most definitely won’t be covered by your clothes—you’ll have to think of an excuse later.

Eventually, he has to pull away and admire his handiwork again, that smug expression on his face per usual, except the reason is different this time, more genuine. “What a pretty necklace ya got there doll, who bought it for ya?”

Necklace? You weren’t wearing any—oh the hickeys. “Jaaax..” That’s so painfully cheesy that you can’t help but whine and giggle.

“Your damn right I did. Looks so good on ya too.”

He runs his fingers over the fresh marks and you can’t help but shudder at the sensitivity. You don’t remember them normally being that sensitive, but you also don’t remember him ever leaving that many in one sitting. Something tells you those won’t be the only hickeys you’ll end up with.

Your eyes fall on his own neck, bare as ever, and find yourself feeling a little mischievous. “How about we give you a matching one?”

Jax’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as if to help give you a better position before his hands knead into your hips. “Oh sugar, I’d be more than happy to be sportin’ a matching necklace with you.”

[milliesfishes]

still have yet to read the book yet (probably will this weekend) but maybe something like you getting hurt on your vacation?? like i can imagine maybe you step on coral and get your foot cut real bad and so then there is the comforty fluffy part of him carrying you around so you don’t have to walk after the angst of him trying to get you to relax when you’re panicking at all the blood (little no clue if this is in character but it’s cute regardless lmao)

this is from. a long time ago. but it's cute I love you Phantom🫶

⋆౨ৎyou get hurt on vacation with alex⋆౨ৎ fem reader x alex nilsen

Blood on the floor. You cursed yourself when you saw it trickling from your shoe, trying to lift your foot so there was less damage. The motel staff had enough to deal with without you bleeding all over the place.

Limping to the bathroom, you clenched your jaw as the pain sharpened on the underside of your foot. Trying to take deep breaths, you sat on the counter, leaning back against the mirror. It was cool against your head, and you tried to focus on that.

Your heart was stuttering in your chest as your breathing became shaky. Still salt-combed from the sea, your hair was dripping pearls of water down your shoulders onto your breasts. You hadn't bothered to put your shorts or tank top back on, mind too preoccupied with the problem at hand.

Were there even bandages in here? You doubted it. Kicking off your ruined shoes, you bent your leg so the damaged foot was resting on the counter. Reaching for a washcloth, you cringed as your blood stained it, but held it in place, putting pressure on the wound. Biting the inside of your cheek when the fabric met the gash, you held back a cry. It hurt, more than you'd have expected it to.

The door opened and shut, and you barely noticed. Eyes closed, you were trying to center yourself, somehow make the pain go away. Maybe if you focused, you would get used to it.

"Babe?"

You looked up, accidentally letting a tear slide down your cheek. It could have been mistaken for the other droplets on your face. Alex was standing in the bathroom doorway in his running shorts and shirt, earbuds and phone in hand. His collar was sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead. Seeing his furrowed brow, you had the urge to smooth it out with your thumb.

"I'm okay Alex, I just-" He was already coming over, setting his phone on the counter with a clatter and leaning over to examine your foot. The washcloth had a big red spot in it where the blood had soaked through.

He tried to be gentle as he peeled it away, but you whimpered, grabbing his wrist. "Don't."

"Shh, I know, I know it hurts," he soothed, voice soft. Alex very carefully removed the rest, your hand squeezing his wrist the whole time. You took in shaky breaths as he held your foot, lowering it from the counter as he knelt in front of you. His touch was so delicate that you almost cried for a different reason. When he looked up at you, blue eyes so worried, you did shed another tear and he lifted his other hand to your knee, rubbing gently. "What happened?"

Sniffling, you brushed away another tear. Somehow his presence numbed some of the pain. Or maybe it was your anxiety put at ease because he was here. Either way, you didn't feel as hopeless anymore. "I just wanted to go swimming...and when I got out...there was a sharp rock and I didn't see it..." You swallowed, trying not to cry more. "This is gonna ruin the rest of our trip-"

"No, no," Alex shook his head, his expression reassuring. "Sweetheart, it's not gonna ruin anything. This is just another adventure, okay?" His thumb drew a soothing pattern into your knee. "We're gonna laugh about this someday, right?" He was repeating something you'd said to him several times when something bad happened, and it made your lips turn up a tiny bit.

Alex reached for a clean washcloth, folding it over and holding it carefully to your wound. He leaned up, kissing your knee, resting his chin there. Your shoulders slumped and you smoothed back his hair, as a distraction. Leaning his head forward, he dropped his lips to your lower thigh, nose smushing there.

For a moment it was just that- his head on your leg, hands gently holding the washcloth to your foot. You breathed in softly, the weight of his head on your bare leg a comforting thing.

Lifting his head, Alex put one hand on your knee, scratching gently as he took another look at the gash. "Okay. It doesn't look too deep, it's just bleeding a lot." He reached for your hand, kissing the knuckles. "I'm gonna go see if the front desk has any bandages, okay? Will you be alright for a minute?" When you nodded, he tucked your leg back into its original position, making sure you were holding the washcloth before he let go.

Kissing you on the forehead, he left with the promise to be back soon. You breathed easier, leaning against the mirror again. It was miraculous how he could fix what had felt like the end of the world.

When he returned, bandages in hand, it was like your guardian angel had arrived. Alex stood this time, dabbing medicine onto the gash, wrapping your foot snugly and bending over to kiss it once he was done. "There. All better, cutie." He hooked his hands under your knees, sliding you forward so they were hooked around his hips. "C'mere."

You sniffled, leaning into him as he hugged you tight, hardly registering how sweaty he still was. With your head in the crook of his shoulder, you realized now it was less leftover from his run and more because he was worried. You clung to him tighter once you realized.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, rubbing his hand up your back. "I'm gonna shower really quick. Do you wanna go back to the bedroom or stay here?"

"Here," you decided immediately, crossing your ankles over his back.

"Okay." Alex squeezed your thigh, gently removing your legs and disappearing into the other room. He kicked off his running shoes on the way, leaving them by the door. You heard the drawers opening and closing, and then he was returning with clothes for both of you, underwear included. "Here, you can take your swimsuit off." He chucked you under the chin, thumb lingering. "It looks pretty, but I know you wanna get out of it."

Smiling lovingly at him, you returned his kiss when he gave it. While he stripped himself of his clothes, you worked your swimsuit off, replacing it with your underwear. He handed you your hairbrush when you reached for it, leaning over to start the shower. You pulled the brush through your hair, giving him a squinty-eyed smile when he kissed your cheek before pulling back the curtain and getting in.

He showered quickly, and when he got out, hair curly and sticking to his forehead, you were fully dressed, hair brushed out and drying. Alex toweled off and pulled his clothes on, reaching for you and murmuring, "Still hurting?"

"A little," you admitted, not wanting to make it seem worse than it really was. "Just...it's okay. I can probably walk on it."

"Uh uh." Alex pulled you forward and re-wrapped your legs around him. "You shouldn't have to walk at all right now." He lifted you off the counter, carrying you into the next room. When you opened your mouth to protest, he silenced you with a kiss to your nose. "I took my pills. It's fine."

Though the logistics were shaky, the walk was so short that you didn't say anything more. He set you down, easing a pillow under your foot and grabbing his laptop, starting to type with one hand while sliding his other arm around you. "We'll watch one movie and then we can try walking, okay?"

You cuddled under his arm, pressing a kiss to his chest and resting your head there. Already, your foot was starting to throb a little less. He kissed your forehead as the opening credits began to roll on his laptop, running his hand up and down your arm.

His skin was warm from his shower, and you inhaled softly, the scent of his soap only calming you further. And as he held you close, checking in every few minutes and looking over at your foot, you got the overwhelming sense that he would always take care of you.

No matter what.

[lorelune]

(a continuation of this piece)

"i was surprised that you were late today."

jing yuan says halfway through lunch. he speaks over the rim of his teacup. his lips are curled in an easy, gentle smile. his shoulders are relaxed, posture slack as he leans against his own bent leg.

he's barely touched his meal.

(you have a full bowl as well.)

"i got caught up with work." a lie. a blatant one. you're never late for lunches, and you always let jing yuan know if you even have an inkling of being a few minutes past your appointed time. you're careful about it. meticulous.

your visit to blade has made you careless. dulled you with a grief that is eating you alive.

jing yuan hums thoughtfully. you hope he won't press this. he's-- he's an unusually calm character when he wants to be. you're his lover-- dutifully, horribly reliable and loyal. he has no reason to doubt you.

(except, you'd spent the first half of the day in the shackling prison with its beau acratic hoops and horrors, all to see yingxing. to be heartbroken all over again.)

you thought it would bring you some closure. in retrospect, this was more wishful thinking. all its left you with is an hot, branding ache in your chest. a wound ripped open anew. it had already scarred over, albeit imperfectly healed.

(jing yuan never minded this. he could tell he carried things with you, he'd both told and shown you this. and truthfully, how could you not? being undying does not lend itself to happiness. it lends itself to an accumulation of sin that cannot be undone. cannot be lessened.)

"dear?" jing yuan asks, voice mirthful and sweet. "are you with me?"

"yes." you force yourself present. you hope your eyes aren't too puffy. "i am distracted. what did you say?"

"i asked you what kept you at work." jing yuan asks, so easy. so kind. "if lady fu is working you to hard, i am happy to arrange a few days off for you. is a vacation in order?"

"no, it's alright." you rush, stumble over your words. "i should've planned better is all. how is your lunch?"

jing yuan rests his chin on his palm, "i'm not very hungry today. i apologize, dearest."

"you don't need to apologize. it happens." you assure him. "i'll make you a meal tomorrow. just let me know what you're in the mood for."

"you spoil me."

"i simply treat you well." you tell him. you're grateful you're able to. that the general lets you close enough to cook for him and feed him morsels and lounge on his personal terrace in the artificial sun each day during noontime.

"you do." jing yuan says softly. reverent. he gets like this sometimes. moony and a little dumb about it. so genuine and earnest it breaks you.

(it makes your lie feel that much more sour.)

jing yuan opens his mouth to say more, but promptly redirects as yanqing arrives, swords floating around his back. he and the general talk, carouse for a moment. yanqing has had yet another day of sparring. that's good. that's nice.

(yingxing doesn't remember you. only you are burdened with this memory. will this feeling eat you alive? it's-- it feels worse than it did when you were younger. more naive. when things fell apart and you were burdened with standing by and watching the world you loved so much, with the people you loved so much fall apart. even jing yuan was away, making a name for himself. proving his worth.)

(you alone bear this.)

your chest aches.

jing yuan is at your side. you hadn't noticed him approach you so directly.

"dearest, walk with me?" jing yuan asks and offers you a hand to help you stand. yanqing is already tucking into his meal, waving goodbye.

the terrace is wide, and high above the rest of the luofu's structure. it's lush with plants. vining fruits, plump and ready to be picked curl along its railing. flowers bloom wide and bright.

(you wish you could focus on the beauty of it. how kind a place this is. how fortunate you are to have made it this far.)

"you're distracted today." jing yuan says, guiding you to a bench. his hand lays warm and firm on your shoulder. "are you sure the divination commission is giving you trouble?"

(no, the mutual past lover you both share is layers below you in the shackling prison. radiating an energy that feels astral and unholy. the kindness purged from him. yingxing really is dead, isn't he?)

"no, i promise." you give him a half-truth and a smile that you hope isn't as withered as you fear it is.

jing yuan looks pleasantly neutral. perhaps, if you were some foreign diplomatic or tourist you'd be charmed by such expression. the arbiter general of the luofu is known to be ruthless in battle with a lovely personal disposition. perhaps you'd see this moment as a reflection of that rumor.

you know, however, that in this moment jing yuan is frustrated. he will not treat you with the same firmness that he does his retainer or his subordinates, but you know the feeling is, perhaps, the same.

jing yuan doesn't like when you withhold information. he has always vocally appreciated your candor, with a sweet honesty that's disarming as it comes from a man who speaks in half-truths so frequently.

and now, you lie to him. your jaw is locked and your eyes still feel scratchy and swollen from your tears.

jing yuan begins to speak and you cut him off. grab his hand with a squeeze and pull yourself into his side.

"do you remember when you broke the first blade that yingxing made for you?" you ask.

jing yuan goes still for a moment. just a second of hesitation but you catch it. the feeling melts away as he laughs, tinged with melancholy. "i do. he was furious with me. and you had to collect new ore off-ship for a month for him to craft a replacement."

"i did." you whine with a laugh. "it was miserable. 'roid mining is awful. i was cleaning astradust from under my fingernails for weeks when i got back."

"but, you came back with the ore regardless."

"yes, and i never did again. no matter how much yingxing tried to bribe me."

"you were too busy entertaining the young lady fu to be his errand boy. i remember well."

"i probably could've made the time." you tell him. he knows this already. "i just didn't want to be away. i would've missed you both too much."

"is that why you so graciously eat with me each day?"

"i do that because i love you." you squeeze his hand. "and i enjoy your company. and want to be near you."

(you want to hold him until the last moment, however that takes shape.)

jing yuan hums. he fits you so your cheek presses against his collarbone, and his chin rests on the top of your hand. his arms wrap around your middle, squeezing and rubbing his thumbs over you. he holds you tightly to him.

"the feeling is mutual." jing yuan tells you, soft in a hushed voice only you get to hear.

you bear your weight into him. he catches you easily. holds you until yanqing calls for you both to stop being so 'gross' and to 'rate his form' on a new maneuveur he's been practicing.

jing yuan leads you once more, never fully pulling away from you. a hand on your waist, a palm over the small of your back. he puts you in his lap the moment yanqing excuses himself to flit about.

"you need to get back to the divination commission soon, don't you?" jing yuan asks, probing.

"i took the day off."

"you did, now?" jing yuan has already seen through you. this you know.

"yes." you tell him.

(you want to tell him more. you want to scream and beat the ground. perhaps you willl, later, in the privacy of your shared home.)

for now, you satiate the ache with the truth.

"i saw blade earlier. that's why i was late."

jing yuan squeezes you. it almost hurts as he curls over you.

"and?" jing yuan asks. there's a weakness in his voice that you seldom hear. "are you satisfied?"

"hardly." you tell him, turning his arms to wrap your legs around his waist. to drag him closer until your chest to chest and can hear the steady heartbeat thumping under his sternum. "i don't think i ever will be. i miss him too much. he's just gone."

"i know."

"it's awful, isn't it?"

"it simply is." jing yuan says. this is his way-- the way he has kept himself from being eaten alive by mara. you cannot be cannibalized by the thriving rot if you simply choose to let go of the awful, terrible things that would cleave another person in two. he look at the objective rationality of each situation-- this is why he is the longest-lived general. this is why he is a brilliant strategist, and a soft, grounding lover.

because, he reminds you that yingxing is dead, and any fondness you carry for the man known as blade is misplaced.

"do you not miss him?"

"of course." jing yuan kisses your temple. holds you tightly lest you plunge into the ground or float into the sky. "that does not change things though, does it?"

hope is a twisted thing, you think. in this instance, it's better to kill it. whatever mission yingxing-- no, blade has set out to complete should not concern you. there are greater crises. worse ills.

kinder realities that lay in front of you. at your feet. in your arms.

you nose into jing yuan's jaw. each shuddering breath he gives you, you savor. there's no use clinging, is there? but that doesn't mean you won't enjoy each moment you have with him. you'll be at his side until the divinations carve that that will no longer be possible. you will reminisce, however painful-- but aeons, you must refuse to let your past burden you.

so, you hold jing yuan like a lover does. cup his cheeks and kiss him until he's groaning against your lips, grinding you in his lap. he nips at your lips with a laugh as he pulls you flush to him. closer, closer, closer--

you will hold this in your cupped palms, as long as fate allows. perhaps, you both have earned that much.

[xoxoavenger]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! 🎁🎈🎂🎉🎊 I loved Try Me (Matt Murdock x Reader), I was wondering if maybe you could write a sequel? I could see an intimate moment where she’s feeding him the soup she made and taking care of him, potentially with the hilarity of Foggy finding out he’s got two super powered friends

thanks! hopefully this is what you were looking for, I had fun writing it!

Ask Me

pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

word count: 1099

warnings: none

part 1

birthday masterlist main masterlist

"I can't believe you're Daredevil." She mutters as she ladles the soup into a bowl. She made a broth more than a soup because she didn't have time to cut the vegetables, but it'll do the trick. She also didn't know the extent of Matt's injures, and she didn't want him to have trouble eating anything. "Does Foggy know?" She asks as she brings the bowl over to the couch.

"Yes," Matt chuckles, but his teeth are clenched in pain. She kneels next to the couch and she is still shocked by his injuries, even though she's already seen them. He has a large cut across his chest, and resists the urge to touch it.

She watches Matt try to sit up, but he's clearly in too much pain. She puts the soup on the ground in favor of helping him up. She tries not to let her pulse rush as she touches his bare back and bicep, pulling him up gently until he is sitting up enough to eat.

"Here, let's get you some food." She tells him, spooning some broth and then carefully helping him eat some. It's so quiet in the apartment that she swears she can feel her own heart race as she feeds Matt. They're close, and her brain is reeling with the thought of how Matt, and blind man, can be a vigilante.

"I think that's good." Matt groans when they're about three fourths of the way though the bowl. She gets up to put the bowl away and grab a warm, wet cloth.

"How are you Daredevil?" She asks, sinking down to her knees again and beginning to wipe off the blood around his wounds.

"Are you asking if I'm actually blind?" He questions, but he's smiling, so she can tell he's joking. 

"I know you're blind, Matt." She says with a small sigh. She's seen his unfocused eyes too many times to think he was just preteneding. 

"All my other senses are heightened." He tells her, tensing as she begins to wipe a big, deep cut. She hopes that soon her healing food will kick in; she's never seen it help on this level, and she's worried it won't work as well as Matt is hoping it will.

"So, you can hear really good?" She asks, wondering what exactly that means. He shrugs, smiling a little bit.

"And smell, and taste. And feel. I have to have specific sheets because of how sensitive my skin is." He's feeling better, she can tell, and it makes her smile.

"How did figure it out?" She asks quietly. She's had these powers ever since she can remember, but she'd never told anyone and no one ever figured it out either. This is a first, sharing a gift, and she can't help but feel a little scared.

"That your food could heal people?" He clarifies. She almost nods, but then catches herself.

"Yeah," She confirms.

"You asked me what happened again the day after you first gave me the croissant, as if you knew it should have gone away. And I usually have accelerated healing anyway, but not that fast. You wouldn't have known that." He's starting to relax more, and she knows he needs to get some sleep soon.

"You wanna move to the bed?" She asks, putting the cloth down and preparing to move him. Before he can answer, Foggy comes stomping back in.

"So both of my best friends are super heroes?" He yells, throwing the drugstore bag in their general direction. Y/N's eyes widen as Foggy walks to them.

"I am not a super hero." Y/N clarifies.

"I wouldn't classify myself as one either." Matt interjects, a hand out to stop Foggy's rant. It does nothing, and Foggy soldiers on.

"You can feel, hear, and smell things no human should be able to feel, hear, and smell." He points at Matt, who raises an eyebrow. "And you can heal people with your food, that you've been feeding me for months!" Foggy moves to Y/N, and she just shakes her head.

"Have you ever wondered why you haven't gotten sick in months?" She asks, and he just scoffs.

"That proves my point!" He screams. Y/N and Matt shake their heads, Matt smirking.

"Foggy, neither of us are superheroes. You don't need to freak out." Matt tries to calm him down, but Foggy just gets more worked up.

"Are you kidding me? You could be Avengers for all I know!" Foggy grabs the bag that he had thrown and begins to get some of the bandages and Neosporin out to help Matt.

"Oh my God," Y/N groans, rolling her eyes and putting her head in her hands. Honestly, Foggy freaking out was kinda funny, but she isn't sure if he's being serious now or not.

"We're not Avengers, Foggy." Matt chuckles, and Y/N begins to put bandages over Matt's injuries.

"Well I just don't know that, do I?" Foggy looks over at the pot on the stove, walking over there quickly. "What did you make?"

"Just a quick broth. I wanted to get Matt something quick." She tells Foggy as she begins to focus on the task at hand.

"Is this why I haven't gotten paper cuts?" Foggy asks as he ladles a little soup out for himself.

"It doesn't make you skin extra strong, Fog." Matt tells him as she continues bandaging him up. Her hands brushing his skin make Matt want to crawl out of his skin in a good way, which didn't make sense until this very moment.

"Did I hurt you?" Y/N asks softly when he tenses.

"No," He mutters, putting a hand on her wrist to stop her. "It's okay, I think the big ones are taken care of." He just wants to lay down and sleep it off now, but he wants to ask her one more thing.

"Let me help you to your room." She offers, and together, with him leaning on her, they make it to Matt's room.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" He asks as they sit down. He can feel the heat begin to flush her cheeks, her heart beginning to race. He's worried still that maybe she feels uncomfortable until she responds.

"Working." She thinks she's funny, and Matt chuckles.

"Do you want to go to Josie's with me tomorrow night?" He asks, and she ducks her head and smiles.

"As long as my boss lets me off on time." She says, nudging him with her shoulder.

"I'll talk to him." He tells her, both of them smiling hard enough that their cheeks hurt.

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @thefandomplace  @mcueveryday @icequeen1371 @kenzi-woycehoski @multifandom-boss-bitch

[rottenimagines]

NIGHTFALL WITH NEGAN

Summary: your first encounter with Negan in the Dead City universe. That tall, strange man walks into the abandoned library that has been your refuge for the past few months, in the middle of the night.

(Little disclaimer: English is not my native language, but I try my best, I promise♡)  

.

.

“Who are you?!” The girl points her gun at him immediately.

“Woah, woah, hold your horses, sweetheart”. Negan replies in good spirits and not even bothered by the fact the girl is pointing a gun at his face right now. He raises his hands with a small mocking smirk. “Just some guy figurin' a library's a better spot than a cornfield for takin' cover.”

He then leans back against the wall of the old library, “and who might you be? Besides the girl with the gun, of course.”

“I'm the girl who's gonna make a window in your forehead if you don't scram, asshole.” She shakes the gun to emphasize her point, trying to seem tough and imposing, but as she takes a step forward, the wound on her leg opens and her bandage begins to turn red. She winces in pain.

Negan lets out a friendly chuckle. However, when he notices her limping in pain, he starts to feel sorry for her and stops.

“Oh dang, seems like someone's dealing with a bum leg. Need a hand with that, instead of tossin' around threats about holes in my head, darlin'?” He asks her in the most charming voice he can muster in this situation.

She steps back without lowering the gun. “Stay away! Just… Leave. This is my place.”

“And who are you to claim an abandoned library like it’s your property?” Negan asks with a smirk, still relaxed and trying to charm her again.

“Besides…” he gestures towards her injured leg, trying to get closer to her, “your leg doesn‘t look so good, how about I take a look? Come on, you might just lose it if you don't get some help.”

She hesitates for a few seconds, but the pain is too intense to even think straight now. “You are a doctor?”

Negan slowly starts approaching her again.

“I can patch people up a bit, sure”. He looks at her injured leg then and his eyes soften, his grin is still on his face, but he has become more sympathetic in his tone and doesn’t look threatening anymore.

“Mind if I check it out? I swear I'll be easy on it”, he asks while moving closer to her.

“I swear to God, if you pull anything…”

Negan chuckles and shakes his head, still approaching her, but keeping a good distance so she feels comfortable enough.

“Relax, I just wanna lend a hand, that's it. I ain't a threat to you”, he tells her while finally standing in front of her and kneeling down. He looks up into her eyes. “May I take off the bandage? Then we can figure out if it’s bad or not first.”

She sighs, feeling the soreness from her wound, and discomforted by the unknown man kneeling in front of her. She lets him remove the bandage from her shinbone, but doesn't cease pointing the gun at him.

Negan takes the bandage off slowly and inspects her injured leg closely. He tries to be careful and gentle, but when he touches her skin around the wound he can feel how tense her muscles are.

“I can already tell it’s bad”. He mumbles, with a concerned look as he gently looks up in her eyes. “You didn’t disinfect it for some time, did you?”

she shakes her head no.

Negan sighs and then slowly starts to disinfect the wound himself, being as gentle as he can. While he’s treating her wound he still keeps her attention by talking.

“Do you have a name?” he asks her gently, “besides the girl with the gun, I mean.”

She shakes her head again, while still trying to stay stoic and still, despites the pain. Her lower leg looks really bad.

“None your business.”

Negan notices how she tries to stay stoic while he treats her, but he also notices that she’s in pain; a lot of pain. His expression softens even more and he tries to make it not so uncomfy for her.

“Hmmm, okay…” He murmurs quietly and tries to smile at her a bit. “May I just call you something then? Otherwise this‘ll get kinda awkward, you know.”

“It won't because you're leaving. As I told you before, this place is mine.”

Negan doesn’t reply and continues to disinfect her wound, ignoring her.

Finally, he’s finished with all the cleaning and disinfecting processes and stands back up while still smiling at her.

“Alright…” He says with his friendly tone, “can I check if you can at least walk properly?”

He seems genuinely more concerned for her well being than the fact she still wants him to leave.

“I can. Now, grab your things and go”, she points the gun at him again.

Negan just smirks and shakes his head.

“Let me ask you something, sweetheart…” he moves a little closer to her again. He still holds his friendly smile and his tone is still very calm.

“Where am I gonna go? It’s still the apocalypse outside and it’s the middle of the night. You really want me to just leave and die in the wilderness?”

“I don't care, just-” She barely has time to respond when he swiftly strikes her arm, causing her to release the gun, which falls to the floor. Observing her poised to retaliate, he preemptively lands a forceful kick to her already injured leg, making her to collapse on the floor. She groans in a mixture of pain and frustration.

“You son of a bitch!”

Negan just chuckles softly and slowly steps towards her, now towering over her.

“Now now, no need to act so violent, darlin', let‘s just behave like civilized people, okay?” He says while giving her an encouraging grin. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Hell, I even fixed your leg, so why don’t you let me stay here for tonight? Pretty please?”

She sighs and looks around, searching for a compelling argument that might convince him to leave, but she can't find one. Pain clouds her mind, and fear and the mistrust feeling aren't making it any easier either. She gazes into his eyes once more.

“I know who you are. I've seen the posters in the city. The asshole they're looking for... It's you, isn't it?”

Negan nods at her, still smirking and not looking worried at all. On the contrary, he even seems somewhat proud of himself.

“Oh yeah, that’s me alright.” He says in a friendly tone, still not trying to seem threatening at all.

“Name’s Negan”

[naomihatake]

In search of freedom (Ch. 7)

7. What do you wish for?

⠀⠀➺ fic masterlist

⠀⠀➺ Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa

Warnings for this chapter: angst, graphic depictions of deaths and fatal wounds, self-harm, brief suicidal mention, canon-typical violence, tiny bit comfort at the end

Word count: 8,4 k

Theme song: fic spotify playlist (click on the link)

A/N: I'm glad I could finish the chapter so early and there are some scenes in here that I really loved writing. Also, I want you to pay close attention to the fight Witch has with the fishman. The anime watchers and manga readers that got far enough with One Piece will probably get it faster ;)

I'd be happy to hear your opinions on this chapter. Every interaction is appreciated and thank you so much for sticking to this story till now <3

The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

"What is your dream?"

While she would've rather expected that question to come from Luffy, the tipsy Zoro by her side, leaned against the mast, seemed to be rather intrigued by her reasons to remain with Luffy. 

When she turned her head towards him, one of her suppositions was proved to be right: the stars above shone beautifully, but nothing could compare to the swordsman's brown eyes. In the dark, his dark chocolate irises were swallowed by pupils dark as the depths of the oceans. No. Dark and beautiful as the night sky she teared her gaze away from. 

Her silence could've been interpreted in many ways and Zoro might become suspicious, but his already flushed state seemed to swallow everything in. He only looked back at her. 

The witch couldn't exactly spot the specific aura of his gaze. He wasn't only flushed because of the alcohol, no. He seemed… soft, even. His shoulders were relaxed and the grip on the empty bottle loosened up. 

His question was simply something she didn't expect, as he was always down to earth, similarly to Nami. However, there was a tiny difference — he proudly admitted he wanted to become the strongest swordsman in the world. 

"I—," the word left her lips like a mere whisper. 

Her determination faltered under the weight of the alcohol. Until that moment, after sharing some ugly parts of her past, his remarks made her laugh and chuckle happily. 

"I want to be free."

One simple wish that could have so many connotations. 

"I don't see any rope around your wrists."

His voice was like a low rumble coming from the depths of his chest, such a pleasant and soothing sound. 

Their eye contact didn't break. Their gazes were locked together and she couldn't bring herself to be mad about it, especially when she was drunk enough to let vulnerable sides of her poor soul see the light of the stars. 

Faint, shy, but it was there. 

"I want to be free from myself and the expectations everyone has of me," she clarified. "Free from the rules of the world, written or unwritten. Free from the Marines that are now on my tail."

"Why did you become a pirate if you wanted to be free from the Navy?" 

"The sea always looked like a place where I could be free," she admitted with a weak voice. The same tiny voice her younger self used to have when dreaming of a future. 

Zoro knitted his eyebrows together and blinked, staring at the small beauty mark on her face he just noticed. He seemed deep in thought or rather trying to figure out the meaning of her words. 

He was rarely so concentrated outside of critical situations like fights. 

"Are you free now, then?" 

With a gulp, she shook her head. 

"No." 

One word. One heavy weight on her soul. 

"How do you wanna be free?" came another question from the swordsman. 

"I have no clue."

The cage around her was a metaphor. She always felt like iron bars squeezed her tighter and tighter, until she broke down, a situation that occurred only a few times a year and was always hidden from prying eyes. 

Realistically, there was no free place in that world. The Marine wasn't by any means as righteous as they wanted to look like and they were certainly not saviors. Of course, there were plenty of pirates that did nothing else but harm everyone and everything they laid eyes on. Some of them had ugly souls, dark and dirtied by greed. 

However, there were plenty of people that were so-called pirates and yet never harmed unless they had to protect someone. Like Luffy or Usopp. They never took anyone's life. 

Like her father. 

She wasn't one of those pirates. The witch has killed people, even if never solely for blood thirst. Or, at least, not yet. She deserved to die, to never see the light of a new day. 

A personal justice system — that's what she's always had, that's what she grew to learn about from the crew she left barely a year ago. 

Deep down, she knew she would never be free. There was no liberty for a monster. 

When she looked at Zoro, she also wanted him to taste freedom on his tongue. Maybe he already knew what that felt like. 

If she couldn't find her own freedom, she could settle for protecting her friends' freedom. That would be more than enough, right? 

"Aren't you at fault for your own lack of freedom?" Zoro pulled her out of her thoughts. 

His question might've sounded as insensitive and accusing, but she was aware the swordsman didn't mean it that way. He always had his own way with words and, unfortunately, he got misinterpreted most of the time. 

He was simply stating a probable truth. 

Then I suppose I should get rid of my—

No. There was no time to think of such things, even if she was drunk and vulnerable. Admitting that to his face would be shameful of her. 

Maybe she wasn't that ready to share secrets yet, was she? 

"I most probably am," the witch whispered as she averted her eyes back to the sky splattered with stars. "At the end of the day, I'm the only one taking into account what others say and how they affect me." 

She didn't know exactly how to pursue freedom, but she was certain of something else: if that beautiful future stood in front of her, Zoro was probably one of the ways to find out. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

The witch wasn't able to find freedom if she died at that moment, with the blue hand of a fishman gripping at her throat. There was a lingering ache at the crown of her head from when he pushed her against the wall. 

Her eyes squeezed shut while life seemed to slip from her hold, the same way her fingers lost their force while clutching onto the fishman's forearm. She had to find a way to get out of there, to breathe, because her lungs were already begging for some oxygen. Her vision was getting blurry and the pain in her entire throat spread like fire through her body. 

Maybe it was because of her hyper-aware state, but she could swear the wound on her bicep was bloody again considering the sharp pain shooting through her arm. 

No. There was no time to die and beg for forgiveness — and whose forgiveness could she ask for if she stays alive? Exactly. No one's. 

The witch didn't know if she breathed in air or it just felt awfully familiar to that sensation, but her lungs suddenly swallowed something fresh and powerful. It ate the pain hungrily, destroying every doubt in her mind the more she thought of her promises, of the corpse of a father who still whispered in her dreams "go find your freedom".

The grip on the fishman's arm grew tighter, stronger, until her nails dug into the scales and penetrated them. Her fingers ached, the skin around her nails scratched harshly by the sharp broken scales. Fresh blood surfaced. 

Her eyes opened up slowly, burning with each one of her promises, this time including her own — If I can't find freedom, I'll make it. 

Every nerve in her body burnt and she tasted drugs on the tip of her tongue, an addiction threatening to clutch onto her and take control. 

Power. 

The witch has never been one to love power, to ache for it and yet, there she was, with a devil-like grin growing on her face. 

Power. 

It ate her alive and she loved that sensation. The steadiness of her heartbeats, the cage of ribs that broke to make place for that overwhelming feeling. 

Power will never take control of me. 

Her eyes bore holes through the fishman's entire being. There was no need for her revolver when two shining irises had the same effect. 

Her vision and mind has never been clearer. 

The fishman was struck. A weight settled on his shoulders, pulling him down, doubts flickering in his head. 

Claws sank into his eyes, into his face and throat, clutching at his heart, threatening to pull it out of his chest. 

The fishman stumbled and dropped her. 

His strong grip on her throat left blooming red marks. They were ugly and her neck felt tender, but her nerves didn't register the pain properly because of the adrenaline running through her veins. 

The witch immediately took the opportunity, despite the lack of air in her lungs. She crouched down to take her gun, but before she could shoot again, a loud sound got her attention. 

The door of the restaurant broke at the floor underneath her when Luffy got thrown right into it by Arlong.

On the side of the stairs where Usopp crawled down was Sanji struggling to get back up after he cracked his back at the harsh contact with a table. 

People were hiding under chairs and bars from the fishmen's wrath. 

Her anger was fueled by each single detail. One of her shoulders felt light, while the other was heavy. The monster lurking inside her had one eye open — the same one that pushed her to cuss out Mihawk back when Zoro got a cut through his chest. The same monster she wouldn't trade anything for, because wrath has always been her forte. 

The small flame of revenge started burning in the pits of her stomach. Steadily. Still vague, easy to control. 

She ran down the stairs and passed by Usopp, who was at that moment helping Sanji get on his feet. The witch got out of Baratie, suddenly stopping in her tracks when she saw Arlong standing a few meters in front of her. 

That fucker—

Luffy shouted something along the lines of Gum Gum and she knew that was his fight to deal with. 

However, it was a fight she didn't know if he would win at that time, considering the way Arlong only turned his head to the side when he got punched in the face by Luffy's fists. The fishman spat blood on the wooden floor while he stepped closer and closer to the Straw Hat. 

In a fraction, the punch Luffy received sent him flying in the sails of a boat and he fell down with a thud, grunting. It was stupid of him to provoke Arlong further, but Luffy has never been to give up or let his enemies feel the satisfaction of a victory without a proper fight. 

The witch wondered if her captain didn't break a rib or two after being punched and thrown around for so long. He still had the energy to throw his fists into Arlong's face with all he's got, using his rubber arms to attack from meters away. 

His Devil Fruit powers were definitely the only reason why he was alive. 

But not for much longer. 

Arlong muttered something with a growl and once he sank his hand in the water, the witch knew it wasn't going to end well. 

The fishman didn't just splash Luffy; no, he soaked the Straw Hat to the bone and the hit with both sea water and brute force got Luffy to the ground. It was his biggest weakness. 

The witch's eyes widened when she saw Arlong grabbing at Luffy's shirt and lifting him in the air, opening his mouth to reveal razor-sharp teeth. 

Her feet carried her for only a second and she almost shouted out for Luffy out of despair — she would rather be stabbed in the stomach countless times than feel helpless again. Out of instinct, the hand holding the gun raised, aiming at—

"Arlong, wait!" 

Nami. 

The witch snapped her head towards her friend. 

The orange-haired woman stomped her feet and came, leaving the Going Merry behind her. The tank-top she wore exposed a strange old tattoo on her left shoulder. She was clutching tightly onto a thin and long cylinder. 

"I have it," she addressed Arlong. "I have the map." 

The map. 

"I got it for you, just like I said I would."

The witch blinked away the confusion that almost made her hazy and stepped in front of Nami, stopping her from moving forward. 

"Nami," the witch knitted her eyebrows together. "What's going on?" 

Nami's eyes held no clear emotion besides a flicker of anger. 

"Exactly what you knew all along."

It was one of those times when the witch wished her tarot was wrong. 

She shook her head, one of her hands gripping at Nami's wrist. 

"Nami," the witch squeezed her friend's hand tighter, scared it would slip from between her fingers. 

"Let go."

Nami snatched her arm out of the witch's hold and her jaw ticked. She wasn't only annoyed, there had to be more in her eyes. 

"You cannot possibly tell me you want to do this," the witch insisted, stepping even closer, until she was one breath away from the navigator. 

Their intense gazes clashed together and none of them let the walls fall. 

"But here I am, ain't I?" Nami cocked an eyebrow. 

When the orange-haired passed by, her shoulder collided harshly with the witch's who was still stuck in place. 

No fucking way. 

The witch needed time to think, she had to search for some clarification with her tarot cards. She needed more time to read the energy, to figure out the situation, to understand what, where, why and when. Nothing made sense and time passed by so fast she couldn't even process it all. 

Luffy was so disoriented he didn't even pour enough force in his hands to get rid of Arlong's grip on the collar of his shirt. 

"Nami?" he firmly spoke. "What are you doing?"

"I tried to tell you, Luffy," Nami continued walking towards him. "I was never on Your crew. I only joined up with you so I could steal the map." 

"I don't believe that," Luffy denied. 

"That's because you only believe what you want to believe. Doesn't make it true."

Nami, for fuck's sake, we both know you're lying—

The witch opened her mouth, ready to argue, to yell from the top of her lungs, but with one glance thrown to Arlong, she stopped. Saying the wrong thing might get Nami in great danger and she might lose credibility in front of him. 

"Sister Nami's a loyal member of the Arlong Pirates," Arlong started speaking, pointing with his chin towards the one in question. "She has been for years."

The witch didn't know why she still protected Nami, but she was certainly not going to give up on her friend at that time. 

Nami shoved the map in Arlong's nose to get his attention to her — or maybe the witch has gotten to another level of delusion. 

"Why waste your time killing a Devil Fruit eater?" Nami reminded the fishman as if it wasn't a death sentence. "Let the sea do it for you."

"Nami, this is too far, cut the crap—" the witch revolted immediately. 

Before she could make any step towards Luffy, she was grabbed by the back of her neck and launched into the wall of Baratie with sheer force — it was one of Arlong's asshole crewmates. She groaned in pain and squeezed her eyes. The shoulder she fell on sent sharp spikes through the entire left side of her body. 

She cussed out, struggling to get back to her feet when Arlong let Luffy drown in the sea. The witch let out a shout of the Straw Hat's name and one of her knees betrayed her, resulting in another unceremonious fall to the ground. 

Lucky for her, an arm curled around her front to help her up, a silver ring resting on the finger of the man. 

"Luffy fell in the water, go now!" she didn't even wait to be properly raised to her feet to urge Sanji to jump. 

Her aching body and the lack of strength wouldn't help her get Luffy out of the sea. She didn't even clearly notice when the cook left her side and jumped into the sea, too caught up in the agitation inside of her. Events passed by her faster than light. All she saw was a discarded shirt. 

She wasn't sure because of what powers she managed to walk on the deck, at the edge where the other two should appear from under the water. Her head turned when she recognized Usopp from her peripherals.

"Luffy?" he asked, panic building up as his hands shook. 

The witch would have responded if not for the answer to appear right under their noses. Sanji held Luffy tightly by the collar and pushed him on the dock with Usopp's help who dragged him. 

The witch extended her hand to bring Sanji on the dock with them and since then, things turned blurry despite her open eyes. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Now the only woman in the crew, the witch sat on the floor in the room that used to be Nami's, her back leaning back against the wooden wall. With eyes devoid of life, she stared up at the ceiling while pulling her knees closer to her chest, once again trying to hide herself from everyone. From everything. 

On Nami's bed there was still an inert swordsman and he didn't even flinch when she tentatively said his name after entering the room. 

"Fucking dammit," she squeezed her eyes shut. 

Nami left. Zoro was unconscious. Luffy almost drowned if not for Sanji. Usopp was bluffing about how "everything has to be alright". 

She didn't know if he was trying to convince himself or her. 

Because everything was wrong. It felt wrong. 

The witch took in a deep breath, but only half of the oxygen she inhaled got to her lungs and brain because of her constricted throat. Tears were sitting on her waterline for the fourth time that day. 

Too much happened since the crack of dawn and it wasn't even sunset. 

Exhaustion made her look years older than she was. Her head fell forward, forehead hitting her knees before the light sneaking through the windows could fall on her face. 

Tears filled with anguish ran down her cheeks and it was the first time she allowed herself to let at least an ounce of the weight on top of her body dissipate. The droplets of pain melted down her cheeks and sank into the material of her shirt. 

The witch sneaked her arms around the back of her thighs and squeezed herself tighter in a ball, lips trembling. Her breathing was ragged not only because of the lump in her throat, but also because of the firm grip that fishman had on her neck. The skin was sensitive to the touch and it hurt to swallow. 

Every event of that day got added one on top of another. Her fight with Zoro, the fact that he was unconscious after that dwell, Nami leaving just like the witch expected to.

Betrayal. Maybe I was a fool for trusting her. 

Or am I? 

Teeth sank so deeply into her lower lip it drew blood and she tasted copper on the tip of her tongue. 

Pain. That was right. 

The only right thing happening that day was the physical pain. Palpable, real, bringing her back to earth. 

Except that time it failed, because the tears didn't stop. She squeezed her eyes shut as sharp pain traveled through her body, from her chest into her limbs, puncturing each nerve, shaking her to the core. 

Her soul screamed, caged by sorrow, an ugly animal that sank its fangs into her flesh and ripped from the inside. Blood was pouring from her heart, soaking organs and bones, melting into the skin like acid. It burnt so fastly, yet it never seemed to end. With a throbbing head, she couldn't hold the pain back anymore. 

However, no sound ever left her lips parted in a silent scream. No whimper, no sob, no cry for help. The room was filled with silence as a heartbeat drummed in her ears in an agonizing rhythm. 

I shouldn't have come on this ship in the first place. Only if I had been wise enough to leave when I got the chance. Syrup Village was a perfect option, I could've gone on another ship and continued my mindless traveling. Why did I bother myself with this? Why did I suddenly decide it was a great idea to be part of another crew when this only has brought me suffering? 

With each second, she willingly aimed the gun at herself and every word was like a bullet. 

I should've left. I would've been happier. I should've left it all behind when I realized this won't go well. Fuck the premonitions, fuck the destiny, damned be the world. 

A body stripped of clothes and skin, only burnt flesh left behind the monster's bites. Broken ribs and a shattered heart pumping a meaningless life. 

As seconds passed by one after another and her tears came to an end, the gentle swinging of the ship pulled her into a half-asleep state.

She noticed when Luffy came into the room and she was aware of his position on Zoro's bed — the cracking of the wood gave him away. As the Straw Hat talked, she only heard the swordsman's name being spoken, some words here and there, but most of his monologue was muffled. 

He probably thought she was asleep because of her slow and steady breathing. 

Exhaustion was clawing at her muscles and brain, but something kept her aware of the surroundings for a few more minutes. 

Everything turned pitch black in her perspective. A husky and deep voice made her believe she was dreaming, the tips of her mouth curling shily upwards. 

Only if it would've been reality. 

"Zoro!" 

Her entire body flinched and she raised her head, wide eyed. If she didn't know any better, she would've said her soul jumped out of her. 

"Luffy?" she whispered, confused on why he yelled the swordsman's name—

"You're not dead!" Luffy shouted again, loud enough for everyone in Baratie to hear. 

He's alive? the witch thought to herself. I really heard his voice. 

Luffy crawled on top of Zoro and squeezed the life out of him. Literally. 

"Now I wish I was," she heard Zoro mumble between grunts. 

He was alive. 

The witch's lungs filled with fresh air for the first time that day. Relief washed over her and her body relaxed, shoulders deflating as some of the weight sitting on them fell into the sea below. 

While leaning her body against the wall, she managed to get up just to get a better view of the swordsman who was squinting his eyes at the ceiling. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, head falling forward. 

At least one thing went right, didn't it? 

After Luffy got up from above Zoro, the swordsman managed to take some deep gulps of air, chest raising up and falling rhythmically. 

"I had the strangest dream that Nami left," he said with a frown on his face as he closed his eyes. 

"She did," the witch responded faintly. 

There wasn't enough courage in her to look at him as she said that, instead choosing to glance at the window. 

Zoro looked again at the ceiling and realized her voice was too faint for all of that to be a mere joke, a prank thrown at him for staying unconscious for… for how long? 

"It's my fault," Luffy said with his chin lowered.

From the corner of his eye, Zoro saw the witch place a hand on their captain's shoulder. 

"We'll find a way."

There was a promise etched onto her fragile smile. As if a simple brush of air or one wrong world could make her crumble. 

But she didn't. Instead, she threw a knowing look to Zoro and silently told him to talk with Luffy. She knew the Straw Hat needed his first mate's support at that moment. 

What confused Zoro the most was watching the witch get out of the room without too much of a word. Her hair bounced as she stepped further away from him and their friends. Even as his ribs and body hurt at every inhale, he wanted to understand the real reason for her leaving. 

Last time they talked, she expressed worry. What happened in the meantime? What the fuck went wrong? 

There was a fat chance she was still mad at him for whatever reason. Sure, she was calm, collected, but he could swear he's seen fire burning in her eyes more than just once and a grin splayed on her face at the thrill and adrenaline of a fight. She snapped at him when they fought and he had to admit it would've been sadder if she treated him with silence. 

However, he didn't know if that was silence or something more. 

Weird, he concluded. 

His attention went back to Luffy. The swordsman couldn't manage watching the ever happy-go-lucky captain speak like a ghost. 

"You didn't do anything wrong." He seriously hoped he could find the right words to bring Luffy back to reality. 

There's no way that crew would fall apart without a proper fight. What has been was just the beginning. 

"You acted like a captain."

"But the crew is falling apart," Luffy pulled his lips in a tight line. 

"No, it's not," the green-haired firmly affirmed. 

Maybe a lot more than Zoro thought has happened, but that was definitely not the end. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Before the sun could set and hide in the sea, they gathered some supplies for their new journey. They found out from the clown head — who they found out told Arlong where to find the Straw Hats — that Nami was most probably heading to Conomi Islands, specifically Cocoyashi Village. Sanji joined their crew, which made Luffy jump in excitement for the second time that day. 

Luffy's folded arms were resting over the railing of Going Merry while he stared down at the water splashing against the ship. 

"Does it always take so long?" Luffy spoke so softly. 

Sanji chuckled with the fishing rod in his hand as he waited for a fish to catch the bait. 

"We've only been here for two minutes, be patient," the cook reminded him. "Some days, they bite as soon as you drop the line and some days, it takes hours."

Then, he threw a knowing glance towards Luffy with an arch of his eyebrow. 

"But we're not talking about fishing, are we?" 

"I highly doubt it," the witch mumbled as she curled her fingers around her tarot deck. 

She didn't dare to shuffle through the cards again, a side of her afraid of what was waiting for them. It felt uneasy everytime she got the impulse of taking the cards out and finding out which one of them holds the truth. 

The witch was leaning with her back against the railing, not so far away from the Straw Hat, pressing her fingertips into the old box made of cardboard that fit perfectly in her hands. 

Luffy smiled towards Sanji before he stared into the horizon with hope. 

"I just want to know if Nami's okay."

"A beautiful, talented woman does not choose to ally herself with a pirate like Arlong," Sanji said firmly, convinced of his beliefs. "Nami clearly needs to be rescued." 

The witch breathed in deeply and widened her eyes, trying to find the right words to tell them what she knew. A pair of heavy steps caught her attention and she immediately recognized the chiming filling the air. 

Zoro. His hand was resting on his Wado Ichimoji — his only sword now. 

"Her tattoo says different," he said. 

The way he looked at the witch was bringing back to life some shattered pieces of her soul. He might look serene when sleeping, but he was better that way — wide awake and an asshole. 

Also, he noticed something she couldn't pinpoint. There must've been a scar on her face, most probably. At first, he only stared at her face, just to lower his gaze. Oh. She didn't sleep for two days and got in a fight with a fishman, which left some nasty bruises on her bare neck. 

"Well," Sanji argued, "tattoos don't tell the whole story. And like any woman, she's a mystery to be unraveled."

"Am I supposed to feel flattered?" the witch arched her eyebrow at the cook after she turned her head towards him. 

Right at that moment, Zoro stepped between her and Luffy, restricting her view. All she could see was his chest, bandaged and with a red patch in the center. 

"You should change your bandages," she looked up at him. 

However, the witch was hesitant when she did so. As if the man in front of her could vanish in thin air. 

Zoro turned to Sanji and decided to completely ignore her comment. 

"Nami made her choice." 

The cook immediately frowned, creases appearing on his forehead. His scowl was deeper than Zoro's.

"You don't know why," Sanji retorted. 

As if getting snapped by Usopp, Zoro scoffed: 

"The only thing I want to hear from you are dinner specials. You don't know Nami."

"Sounds like you don't know her either, Mosshead," Sanji spat with a taunting smile on his lips. 

"Oh God, stop, you two," the witch sighed heavily, annoyed. 

Just to get the swordsman's attention to her, she poked his back with the tip of her finger, digging deep enough to receive a light flinch. It seemed like she took him by surprise. She bent her back more as she continued resting her elbows on the railing to glance at Luffy over Zoro's shoulder. 

"I'm sure Nami has her reasons," their captain nodded. 

"I know Nami's reason."

All of their heads turned to the witch. 

Usopp was just walking up the stairs of the forecastle when his eyes sparkled curiously.

"What are you guys talking about?" 

"Nami," Zoro said quickly. "Why didn't you say anything until now?" that time, his sharp words were directed to the witch. 

The witch shot him a glare, displeased by his reaction. However, she would've acted the same if someone was to hide something so important. 

"It would've felt unfair to tell you before talking with her," the witch clarified. 

"You talked with her about it?" Usopp suddenly intervened, surprised by the news. 

The witch gripped at the tarot deck in between her hands tighter and clicked her tongue, trying to find the best words to explain. 

"I did. Somehow," uncertainty latched onto her voice. 

None of them rushed her anymore so she took her time. 

"Listen, this isn't as easy as it seems to be. Yes, Sanji, she didn't willingly get into Arlong's crew."

A snarky remark sat on the cook's tongue and he wanted to throw it Zoro's way. 

"But," the witch continued in order to stop an eventual argument, "she's fully aware of her actions. She was forced by the circumstances to do what she's doing, but it doesn't mean she likes acting like Arlong's crewmate. Nami certainly hates him from the bottom of her heart. He did something. Something that forced her to act like she's a friend just to protect something or someone. Or both. She's not only protecting herself, she's protecting what's most dear to her heart."

It wasn't the witch that spoke, but the gut feeling she had. Her thoughts didn't seem so clear in months, since her last successful tarot reading. Now, as the significance of each card sank into her brain, she knew what everything meant. 

It wasn't her that spoke, but her intuition. 

"She's keeping us away because she's scared we'd get hurt, not only because we would get in her way. Nami cares about us and that's exactly why she's pushing us away."

"Who does that?" Zoro wondered out loud. 

Maybe he should've kept that to himself. 

"You do that," the witch's head snapped towards him. "I do it. And Nami does. She said she tricked us — which was true. At the same time, she's tricking Arlong. He isn't her crewmate, he's an asshole that stole something from her—"

The witch got so carried away she didn't even realize what she just said. She suddenly furrowed her eyebrows into the void and received confused looks from her friends. 

"He stole something. Her freedom."

Those words were said as she actively figured the details out, staring into the void. 

"Witch?" Usopp nudged her. 

"Yes?" she turned towards him. 

"Did she tell you all these things?"

There was a light chuckle that left her lips at that question. 

"The cards did. Her reactions just gave her away and answered my doubts." 

The witch knew what games she was playing. She's been doing these things for years and not only — she trusted her gut feeling above everything else. 

She received an especially confused look from the cook, who had no clue why she was called a witch. He probably supposed it was because she was beautiful or maybe secretive. 

He should've taken that nickname literally. 

"What do we do then?" Zoro turned his head towards their captain. 

Luffy listened intently to everything the witch had to say and he made up his mind since long ago:

"I want to hear her decision for myself."

"That's for the best," the witch nodded. 

There was more she would've liked to say, but speaking from the gut was both easier than usual and harder when tired. Considering the last time she got some proper sleep was before they got attacked by the Marines, she could say it's been long enough for her mind to get clouded. 

Stuck in her thoughts as she was, the grip on her tarot deck loosened up and the object fell from her hold on the wooden floor. The witch's exhausted brain registered that too many seconds later. 

A deep frown appeared between her eyebrows, blinking in an attempt to clear her vision while she bent down to take the deck in her hand. 

Obviously, she failed. 

When her back was straight again, her vision went pitch black and a heavy throbbing settled in her temples. The ship swayed worse than a second ago. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed. 

The witch has been in that situation before. She stood still, because attempting to walk would've ended in a passionate kiss with the floor. 

When the sensations dissipated little by little, tiredness was everything left behind. 

"I'm gonna get some rest," she mumbled, the words a little slurred. 

With her eyes now opened wide enough to see where she's heading, she walked towards the stairs and cussed them out one by one. 

Falling like an idiot wasn't on her to-do list for that day. 

By some miracle, she managed to walk all the way into the galley. The room she shared with Nami was hers, but it was too far away. Her feet barely carried her to the dark red sofa she let her body fall on like a sack. 

She didn't care about the clothes she hasn't changed from, too caught up with everything that has happened. There was enough time for a shower later, when exhaustion wasn't seeping into her bones. The only thing she had the decency to do was to take her boots off. 

She stretched her legs and put an arm under her head, resting on her side to face the room. Not the most comfortable place to sleep in, but after all of that tumult, nothing mattered anymore. 

The sweet sound of jingling disturbed her again. 

Oh, god dammit. 

She was one breath away from cussing Zoro's ass and his earrings — despite being in ecstasy that he woke up. The witch, as if expecting his next move, bent her knees to make space for him. The swordsman plopped himself down with a grunt at the other side of the sofa and her bare feet touched his thigh. 

She didn't dare mutter a word about his presence. Zoro could stay. Gosh, as she was thinkingln about it, she could only believe it was a blessing he wasn't only awake, but also throwing remarks her way. 

It was so much better than telling stories of her past to an unconscious Mosshead. 

Right. 

The edges of her mouth curled in a smile. 

"What?" 

"Mosshead," she chuckled, eyes still closed. 

Zoro let out a scoff and she could imagine him rolling his eyes to the ceiling. 

"Didn't you say you were going to rest?"

His voice was unusually low and even soft, pulling her towards the dreamland. 

"I'd say this place is perfect," she mumbled.

The witch didn't bother to explain she was tired out of her mind or that her feet would most likely betray her if she dared to get up. 

The silence was filled with their breathing and the sounds of the water splashing against their ship, the cracks of the wood. She remembered the times when she traveled with her father's crew and she would many times fall asleep curled next to a barrel while the vice-captain was still singing sea shanties in the middle of the night. 

"Zoro," the witch whispered. 

She was too weary to care about what left her mouth. It acted like alcohol — it clouded her mind and she felt shameless. 

"What if I wouldn't have stepped on this ship?" 

That question plagued her mind and she finally said it out loud. 

"So the last ship was more to your taste?" he snickered. "It almost sank in the sea." 

"You're such an ass," and while that phrase might've sounded harsh in the past, at that moment it was filled with fondness. 

"Been told that before." 

I really missed that voice. 

"For someone with a big ass bruise on your neck, you sound more like a coward than I thought."

Maybe she deserved that serious tone thrown her way. Was he right? Only halfway through. 

"No," she was stubborn enough to fight the sleep for a few more minutes. "What if I would've been happier? Y'know, less worries, no people to haunt my ass. No anxiety."

No crying over you for being almost dead. 

The continuation sat on the tip of her tongue and got swallowed back with a gulp. Was there really a need for an admission? Puffy eyelids and dark circles under her eyes, chapped lips and bandages around her forearm soaked in blood. Those details were enough proof. 

"Do you hate us that much?" his low voice sent shivers down her spine. 

"It's not about that. Just…" she gulped and curled her fingers around the tarot deck she was still holding onto. "I want some peace."

"I say you should get some sleep." 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Standing on the deck felt right, even if the witch doesn't remember why she was there. She can't point out the weather clearly, it feels blurry. Seconds ago she was in the kitchen talking with Sanji about some unusual topic she couldn't remember. 

Then why was she suddenly on the deck, face to face with a kneeling Zoro who had two swords piercing through his upper body from behind? She didn't only know it was him, she felt like it was him, as if the pieces connecting in her head were just right. However, it horrified her. Everything around him was blurry except for him. 

Him, whose essence of life was pouring down his body, creating a puddle under him, sinking into the cracks of the wooden floor. The crimson liquid melted into his white t-shirt. Now that she was looking better at it, she noticed the sharp point of a sword penetrating all the way through his stomach to the front side of his body. 

He was looking up at her, despite the way his chin was tilted down. Those sharp brown eyes were boring holes through her. His beautiful irises painted with the warm nuances of chocolate and coffee were scary, like no other time. 

Was Luffy next to her? It feels like it was him, even if she can only distinguish a silhouette in the corner of her right eye. 

Why was Zoro looking at her like that? She couldn't move, as if her feet were stuck in place. She didn't know if she was breathing or if she was alive anymore. She didn't know why she was on the deck, why those swords took his life away. It barely made any sense that he had enough energy to stare at her. 

He didn't falter once. He didn't beg for help, her name didn't come out of his mouth, no groans, no nothing. 

She couldn't move. As she stood in the same place, her anxiety was rising up, up, up, until she felt like panicking despite the lack of reaction. She felt like exploding, but she couldn't express those horrific feelings. 

She couldn't help him. Her arms were stuck by the sides of her body, as if someone had put a spell on her. She had the will to move her legs, to get closer to him, she wanted to, but she remained glued in that spot. She couldn't feel her body. 

She had to do something, but she was trapped inside an unmoving object that was her own body. Why? 

Everything snapped. 

The smallest hope towards an escape woke her up. Her eyes opened instantly and she raised up in a sitting position, eyes frantically searching for more clues, for answers about the horrifying images she just saw before her eyelids. 

Her heart was beating so fast it made her wish she didn't have it at all, a deafening ba-dump repeating in her eardrums over and over again. 

Unfortunately, she was face to face with the swordsman she dreamt of. Instantly, as if she was shot, she looked at his upper abdomen. For no more than two seconds, she saw a big black patch on his bandages. 

She inhaled deeply and her heart was beating faster, suddenly unable to release that breath of air. Her eyes widened and her hands shook, chest tight. 

"Hey," she heard more of a background sound. 

She blinked countless times, until her tired brain figured out that it was just her imagination. It was so dark in the room and her nightmare was a shock, the reason why at some point the patch started blurring out, inviting her to blink until it turned to be one small spot. It has been there since he woke up from his slumber. 

When the realization sank in, she let go of that breath and let out a pitiful whimper. Deep inside, it felt like relief, her eyes now squeezed shut. 

This time, he clearly called her name after his fingers securely gripped at her shaking shoulders, avoiding her wound. Her hands were trembling, her entire being disturbed. 

Zoro said her name, not the nickname she got so used to hearing on that ship. Not the usual Witch, a word that sounded so endearing coming from her crewmates; no, it was her name and it was spoken so softly she could've confused him for someone else. 

She had a poor attempt at recalling those images in order to figure out the reality, but it backfired. The bloody scene stuck before her closed eyes pushed her to open them up again. 

Thankfully, his dark gaze was warm, filled with unspoken worry. For a brief moment she wondered how he woke up, since he slept like the dead sometimes. 

"I'm surprised I managed to wake you up," her voice trembled. 

He didn't joke back at her. Instead, his thumbs started rubbing slow circles into her shoulders in order to bring her back to earth. Or, better said, back to the ship that was peacefully sailing on the sea during the night. 

"I think you should correct your breathing," he pointed out. 

Once she changed from autopilot breathing, it felt like her throat was tight. 

"Breathe in."

Blindly, she trusted his instructions. That mere breath shook her again, feeling shivers when she allowed the oxygen to sink into her lungs, the same way his voice sank into her being, in the cracks of her soul. 

It took a few minutes until that normal bodily process didn't seem like an impossible task. Her muscles were tense until Zoro squeezed her shoulders again. 

She could distinguish more of his face than just the warmth she noticed not long ago. His expression seemed pained with worry and not from a wound that could kill him, even if there still were bandages wrapped around his torso. Maybe it was also fear that made him look so different from usual; or was it confusion? 

"I'm sorry for destroying your sleep."

It was half a lie. She wasn't sorry about the touch keeping her afloat, about how she managed to breathe again only because of his presence, because he was clearly awake and alive. At the same time, she knew he needed to rest so his wound could heal properly. 

"Be serious," he huffed in a lower voice, clearly displeased. 

"I am. You should sleep."

"Just like you should, but I doubt you will."

"I'd argue about that."

She was still tired, even if her shock from earlier struck her like thunder. Her eyes could close at any moment, which she feared, because another nightmare didn't sound good even for how stress resistant she became. 

Since he heard her soft whimper when she was still sleeping, he had no clue what to do, how to act. One thing was clear: it was better to wake her up, despite the possibility she might get defensive and attack. 

Alright, now what the heck do I do? He's had nightmares before, he's seen horrendous things during his sleep countless times, but he didn't have any idea about what to do for her. Was he even supposed to do something? She didn't like being pampered — maybe he should act like nothing happened. However, the fear coloring her face earlier shocked him as well. The witch has always been collected, she had such a firm grip on her reactions it was annoying sometimes. 

The swordsman shook his head, but didn't let go of her. Instead, he leaned against the cushions on his side, while his hands fell down to her forearms to get a comfortable position of his limbs and upper body. The wound on his chest sent daggers through him at each movement. Barely a day of consciously dealing with it and he's already got annoyed. 

The witch looked down at where their bodies were connected. His long calloused fingers were securely wrapped around her arms, close to her wrists. When did her legs end up in his lap she didn't know. Her bare knee tingled with warmth — why? 

"You had a weird reaction after you woke up," his whisper stirred something in her heart. 

"What do you mean? I had plenty of reactions."

Are you playing the idiot with me? Zoro thought. 

"You were more scared of seeing me than of the nightmare."

"Oh."

Why did the Mosshead have to be so observant? It was one of the reasons why she was attracted to him, evidently, but sometimes he exposed her too easily. 

She dropped her chin and looked down at her own hands. Admitting that she feared his role as the main character of a tragedy for the second time felt embarrassing for some unknown reason. She's been in enough humiliating situations and he never ridiculed her. 

Zoro was utterly stuck. Was he supposed to move away? His body felt too heavy to get off the sofa and go to his room. It wouldn't be alright leaving her alone with her crippling anxiety either, considering she was prone to overthinking. 

He wanted to do something, but what? 

He let out a long sigh and rested his head against the cushions, his fingers still curled around her wrists. Her pulse was fast, but as seconds passed by, it slowed down under the weight of his thumbs. 

The witch became hyper aware of the situation, but it felt too good to move away. Her tired brain entirely registered his presence and her eyes closed. She breathed in the chill air of the night and, while focusing so intently on Zoro's presence, she fell into a deeper state of mind, half asleep. 

He was disturbed from his own journey into the dream realm when he felt a light weight on his shoulder. Once his eyes opened, he saw the cause: she leaned in closer to him, clearly unaware. 

He smelled like the sea and the familiar scent of soap clung to the unbuttoned blue t-shirt he wore. With her forehead resting against his neck, the witch could vaguely point out his pulse. The safety of his embrace lulled her into a dreamless sleep while she focused on his slow breathing and the secure grip he had on her.

Zoro filled her senses so fiercely it was impossible not to melt into him, inhaling and exhaling in sync with him. 

The swordsman had different sentiments about this and they were all confusing. 

What am I doing? he scolded himself.

He moved his head and angled his face so he could look at the right side of her sleeping face. With long eyelashes resting over her soft cheeks, she looked like she didn't have a worry in the world, even if he knew better. Her shoulders would rise and fall rhythmically in such a slow pace, making him wonder what exactly exhausted her so much. 

Then, his gaze fell on the purple marks on her neck and his jaw clenched. If he would've been awake when Arlong appeared at Baratie, maybe none of them would be like that. Maybe he would've had enough stubbornness to get answers from Nami and maybe Luffy wouldn't have been so close to drowning. Maybe those marks on her neck wouldn't have been there in the first place. 

What the fuck am I doing? 

Giving up, he rested his head back against the cushions with a scowl. He didn't understand himself and it was even harder to understand the woman sleeping so peacefully, too close to him. 

Zoro let out a low displeased sound and closed his eyes, deciding to rest for a while. He didn't dare move away or wake her up either. 

First and foremost he was displeased about the fact that he liked the proximity. 

I wonder what that fishman's face looks like. It'll surely be a pleasure to slice him in half.  

Tag list: @emelia07 @dimplewonie @tfamidoingwithmylife @murnsondock @the-skys-musical-echo @conspiracy-crows @hallow33nz @ramae17 @gaslysainz @bunntsu @katt58 @katiemrty @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @freyademartel @boofy1998 @ponyboys-sunsets @melsunshine @loveyluv7 @waddlingwanderer @jesssssmaybankk @nadlx33333 @yoong1c0re @untoldshortsofthefandoms @mizzy-pop @zoromyluv

[lucyw260]

Water Reveals All - Nobunaga

Another birthday of mine is here, so that means my yearly Nobunaga fanfic must be written. I wasn't having a good day today so I knocked this out in record time but then accidentally deleted most of it and had to rewrite it, it was way better before so I'm mad. I haven't posted since the last yearly fic, I hope you all are well

Words = 664

Warnings = establilshed relationship, bruises, water

Excerpt = “I conquered your thigh at this very hot spring. Have you forgotten?. It is mine, not even you are allowed to harm it"

After joint hard work trying to unify the country, Y/n and Nobunaga deserved a relaxing break away from castle life and responsibilities. So here they both were having a short hot spring vacation together.

Nobunaga was already lounging in the hot spring, steam obscuring his body so no prying eyes can take advantage of his visage, well he doesn't mind the prying eyes of his lover.

Y/n was hesitating at the edge of the hot spring, she wasn't even in the warm water and yet her cheeks were as red as the sunset behind her.

“We didn't come so I alone could bask in the water” Nobunaga declared as Y/n paced around the edge and he watched her

“Hang on, I'm trying to sike myself up” she said while trying to shake the nerves off. It was silly to be nervous as it's not like her beloved would see anything he hadn't seen before.

“I guess you don't love me enough to keep me company” Nobunaga had the audacity to pout and show his childish side while saying that.

Y/n laughed slightly, feeling glad that her beloved was free from stress and showing weakness.

“Okay okay, I'm getting in” she chuckled and dipped her toes in before sitting down a ways away from Nobunaga.

“Come closer” Nobunaga demanded in his lordly voice.

“As my lord says” Y/n jokes and makes her way over to Nobunaga but not close enough for Nobunaga’s liking.

He sighs before grabbing her waist and guiding her onto his lap, she wraps her legs around his waist in surprise so she doesn't fall backwards.

“That's better” he stated, staring into her eyes with his own carmine ones. He smirks as she puts her arms around his neck as he adjusts his grip.

The movement of them both had caused Y/n’s thin, almost seethrough bathing robes to ride up her thighs. Blushing furiously, she quickly tries to pull the cloth down before Nobunaga can get any steamy ideas.

Nobunaga can't help but try to sneak a peek of her perfect thighs but something else catches his attention instead. He firmly grabs her hand before she can fully cover her thighs.

Startled, she looks up at Nobunaga only to see him staring down at her thighs with trembling eyes.

“When did you get this?” he questioned in a nonchalant voice but those who knew Nobunaga well would be able to pick up the hint of obvious worry that was apparent.

He reaches down and lightly brushed his long fingers across a brown bruise on the top of her thigh, in no more than a phantom touch.

Y/n looks down to see what Nobunaga is talking about and sees a bruise decorating her high but she can't answer his question because she doesn't recall when she got it but then suddenly remembers something.

“Oh, I remember. I was organising the archive when a book fell off the top shelf and the corner of it hit my leg” she revealed before looking up at Nobunaga.

She could see the telltale signs of worry for her wellbeing in the set of his face so she continued talking.

“I didn't even know it had bruised, it was only a slight pain” she adds to try to soothe her black haired lover.

Nobunaga lifts his eyes off her thigh and looks into her eyes before his next action makes her gasp.

He bends slightly and presses a soft kiss to Y/n’s thigh, like a mother kissing away the pain of their child's wound.

“I conquered your thigh at this very hot spring. Have you forgotten?. It is mine, not even you are allowed to harm it" Nobunaga asserts with admonishment in his eyes.

And just like that, Nobunaga the warlord has come back to the forefront but his strong minded lover will cherish the brief and rare show of concern for her that came from his slow thawing heart.

Please don’t repost, edit or steal. Reblogs are more than welcome though!