#but part of it is also that i could share some small piece of myself and watch it be handled with such care and appreciation

[eskawrites]

not to get all up in my feelings about art and creativity but today (at work, not even as a fandom thing lmao) one of my friends went out of her way to tell me how much she liked a piece of my writing. and the thing is, i wasn't even that attached to this piece. it's small and written for a work thing and a lil clunky and a lil too personal and i almost didn't share it, but i decided to anyway because whatever

but after she told me that, the first thing i did was go back and re-read it, because i wanted to see what she saw in it. not in a self-deprecating, 'why do you even like this?' way, but just because it meant enough to her to say something about it, and i wanted to read it again through her eyes and wonder which phrases made her stop and think, or how the themes hit home, or what part made her like it enough to tell me about it

and i do that with my fanfic sometimes, too. when someone points out a certain detail or predicts what will happen next or even just says they read this at 2:30 in the morning with their cat on their lap. i read those comments, and i go back and look at this story i made, and i remember that i'm real and they're real and the things i create have changed the world in some tiny, ultimately insignificant way--but it was enough to affect what someone was doing or thinking in that moment

and something i've thought a lot about since covid happened and the vast majority of my social interactions started taking place online (it's a problem, i'm working on it, but it's true nonetheless) is that art really, truly is a love language. and not just when you gift it to people, or when you use it to show appreciation, or however else it can coincide with the traditional love languages. but because it's a way to share a little piece of yourself. and it might be silly and it might be sad and it might be fun and it might be meaningful but no matter what, it comes from you. a lot of the time, it comes from a part of us that we can't really effectively express otherwise. i mean, i can say 'i love x ship' in a thousand different ways but that's never going to compare to pouring my heart into stories or arts or edits exploring all my favorite things about those characters and their dynamic. that's why 'bad' art from writers or artists who don't really know what they're doing is still good--because if it comes from you, if it has meaning to you, it's special

but the thing about love languages is that there has to be a recipient. sometimes my writing is an act of love for myself, and that's good and lovely. but other times, when i share writing with friends or fandom or just strangers on the internet who have a thing or two in common with me, when you become the recipient, it really does transform the work. all these things that are so meaningful to me that i turned them into art are suddenly meaningful to you, too. it's like confessing a secret and having someone say yeah, me too. it's vulnerability and acceptance and kinship and community. it makes me see the things i create in a whole new light. it makes me see myself in a whole new light.

[thewidowsledger]

Looking Out For Three

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairing: Avenger Natasha Romanoff x Agent Female Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags | Warnings: +18, Natasha has a penis (no smut though yet), pregnant reader, kinda gruesome details of organ taking/trafficking, self-destruction if you squint, angst, bad writing

Author's Note: This is a scheduled post; I just recently lost my cousin so I may not be able to be active here for some time but I’ll for sure check in once in a while. Happy reading! I hope you're all having a good time.

MINI SERIES: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⧗

Natasha's eyes fell upon the woman's lower abdomen. Her stomach is slashed open, and the crimson depths reveal that something has been taken from within…

A baby, she could tell that it was a baby as the skin on the stomach of the woman was slightly stretched out and the umbilical cord splayed out on the bed.

A life that had just begun, now cruelly snuffed out.

Two lives cruelly snuffed out.

⧗

After Natasha had taken care of Strange, her focus immediately returned to you. Seeing your unconscious form, her heart broke as she frantically searched for something to cover your exposed stomach.

She found a blanket and tore it into a small piece and she gently draped it over your stomach, her hands trembling, staring at your wounded stomach. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at you, whispering words of apology.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, her voice choking with emotion. “I should've listened to you last night, if I knew you wouldn’t…you wouldn't…” Natasha gasped for air but still trying to hold back a sob, she finally looked at your face. She held your hands and pecked a kiss all over it.

“I could've lost you, detka. I can't let that happen…I’ll never forgive myself if I lost you.”

“Everything's going to be okay. You, me, and our baby,” she smiled at the thought, wiping some tears on her face, “We're going to be a happy family.”

Tony landed with a heavy thud, the suit's thrusters kicking up a cloud of dirt and debris. Bucky quickly joined him, eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. A doctor's body lying on the floor, unrecognizable as its face has a lot of holes in it.

He started to move towards you and Natasha, but Natasha's steely glare made him stop in his tracks.

Yelena tried to approach her sister and offered her help but Natasha ignored her as well. The expression on her face was cold and distant, her only priority was getting you to safety. She carried you in a bridal style and the rest of the team watched, unsure of what to do, as Natasha carried out of the room and started heading onto the Quinjet.

⧗

Steve and Tony spoke quietly to each other, trying to make sense of the situation. Tony couldn't provide any concrete answers, but he did share one unsettling detail. He projected a hologram display, showing the scans of the doctor's body. The bullet holes were highlighted in red, showing exactly where each of the 21 shots had landed. The lone bullet in the shoulder was also indicated by a separate red mark.

“Here,” he said, pointing to the tiny screen. “21 bullets to the head and one in the shoulder.”

The team winced as they took in the information, their gazes shifting to Natasha, who was still holding your hand in her lips.

Tony shrugged, holding his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Hey, I'm not judging,” he said. “I've done my fair share of blasting people in the head too.”

The team started to look your way, their gazes shifting towards your unconscious body and Natasha, but then they quickly averted them when they saw Natasha glaring at them. They scrambled to look busy, trying to avoid her disapproving glare.

In an attempt to look as if they weren't just staring at your unconscious body and Natasha sitting close to you, Sam awkwardly broke the silence by pointing at the glassed windows of the Quinjet, “Wow, a bird.”

His words hung awkwardly in the air, only to be met with Natasha's continued glare and the team's collective facepalm at his failed attempt to diffuse the tension.

⧗

When the Quinjet landed on the compound, the team immediately got up and was welcomed by Clint as the door of the Quinjet slowly opened. He already knew what happened and he was on leave since Laura just gave birth to their third child.

He walked towards the bed where your unconscious body was laying.

“Hey Nat.”

She didn't answer, but as soon as Clint touched the bed to help her get you out the Quinjet Natasha swiftly pulled a gun and pointed it towards his head.

“Nat…” Clint called, the team became frozen in place at the sight.

“Don't touch her.” She said her voice was hoarse and shaky.

“Yes, I'm not touching her. I am touching the bed,” he offered a logical argument, his tone gentle as he tried to diffuse the situation. He immediately but slowly moved his hands away from the stretcher you were in and put them in the air where Natasha could see.

The room's tension rose even more as the team started calling her out.

“Romanoff.” Tony called in a warning.

“Natasha.” It sounded more authoritative coming from Maria.

“Natasha, calm down.” Steve’s voice joined the fray, calling out gently.

“Back down! No one gets to touch her!” Natasha furiously exclaimed.

Natasha's grip on her gun tightened further, she pushed the tip of the gun on the back of Clint’s head, her eyes beginning to well up with tears.

A ripple of tension ran through the group everytime Natasha spoke. The atmosphere in the room immediately grew heavy, and the team members instinctively also tightened their grip on their own weapons.

“No one’s gonna hurt Y/N, Nat…please.” Clint reassured pleadingly.

“Shut the fuck up!”

And with that a loud thud echoed through the Quinjet with Natasha’s unconscious body laying on the floor. Yelena, her sister sulking at the corner with her hands clenched into fists pointed towards where Natasha was and her widow's bite smoking.

“Izvini, sestra.” (Sorry, sister)

⧗

Dr. Cho launched into her report, clearly concerned about the oversight. Wanda, Steve and Bruce were in the medbay with you.

“So no one noticed the bleeding on her head?” the doctor repeated incredulously. The room fell silent for a moment, and then Steve spoke up.

“Natasha wouldn’t let us near her.”

“Yeah,” Bruce confirmed, “She came before the team, I prepped the stretcher and she immediately snatched it away from me, not even letting me help her.”

Wanda clenched her jaw in frustration, her eyes narrowing as she listened to the two about what happened. She couldn't help but feel annoyed and frustrated with Natasha's behavior, which had led to your current situation. If Natasha had just been a little more cooperative and let the team help her help you, you would've been fine and awake by now. Instead, you were lying unconscious in the medbay, not sure when you're going to wake up.

“And no one knew that she's pregnant?” Dr. Cho added that made the three wince in guilt, how could they not notice? You live in the same place for god's sake, in the same compound.

Wanda was particularly hard on herself, her face filled with guilt. She’s your best friend and you two had spent so much time together, she felt ashamed that she didn’t notice anything different about you, especially since the two of you are inseparable when Natasha was away for 2 months.

You always had a morning walk together, gets to shop together, you two always watched sitcoms together and trained together. Wanda could only remember a moment when she had accidentally hit you in the abdomen during combat training, and you had collapsed on the floor laughing at the witch. You were for sure pregnant at that time and Wanda could only wince at the memory hoping that hit didn't affect her growing niece at your stomach

And the fact that she covered up for you made her want to let the ground eat her, what if she just let JARVIS figure out that it was you who was pregnant? This wouldn't have happened to you…

“Don't worry, Y/N is stable" the doctor said reassuringly, “and she should wake up at any moment. However, we can't say for sure when that will be.”

She looked around the room, meeting the worried gazes of the team members who's nodding at her words.

“I’ll get her an ultrasound later which should give us more accurate information. For now let's give her body a break. And I need Romanoff here as soon as possible.”

⧗

Natasha tossed and turned in her sleep, distress written all over her face. She rubbed her eyes and slowly sat at the bed, she took the place in where she was; it was your shared bedroom. She can feel her brain pounding inside her skull but still, she immediately got off the bed as the first thing she thought was you, she found herself frantically walking down a dimly lit hallway, approaching a closed door at its end.

As she neared the closed door, she noticed a soft glow and a bed with a woman laid out on it, bathed in a dim light. The sight invoked a pang of uneasiness in her, but she couldn’t shake the compulsion to get closer.

Natasha continued walking, drawn to the woman on the bed like a magnet. Each step seemed to echo loudly in the silent hallway, but she pushed onward until she was near the bed.

With a heavy heart, Natasha makes her way to the bedside of a woman who lies there lifeless and unseeing. Her eyes, hollow sockets staring into nothingness…

Her eyes scanned the woman's body, taking in every detail of the horror.

The ribcage splayed open like a grotesque butterfly…

The heart and lungs are missing, leaving a gaping hole…

Natasha's eyes fell upon the woman's lower abdomen. Her stomach is slashed open, and the crimson depths reveal that something has been taken from within…

A baby, she could tell that it was a baby as the skin on the stomach of the woman was slightly stretched out and the umbilical cord splayed out on the bed.

A life that had just begun, now cruelly snuffed out.

Two lives cruelly snuffed out.

The redhead's gaze lingers on the woman's lifeless hand, before her eyes widen in horror. She recognizes that hand, and with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she starts to panic.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she spots a manila folder beside the bed, within her grasp. With trembling hands, she snatches it up and flips it open, gasping as she scrolls through the contents.

“Y/N Y/L/N”

Natasha gasped in horror, she flips open the file, page after page of personal information and photographs spill out of the folder, painting a detailed portrait of your face and body. Each page she turns reveals more information about you, and with each turn, her heart drops further into the pit of her stomach.

This body that is lying in front of her with no eyes, ribcage splayed open, heart and lungs missing, stomach slashed open and a baby taken out of it…

Is your body and your child. Her child.

“No…”

“No, no, no,” she gasped, “Fuck no!” She threw the folder away and your body was already gone in the bed.

She immediately shot her head around when she heard a faint cry of a baby, but as soon as she turned she saw a shadow of a woman carrying a baby.

She knows it was you only by its figure…

Your voice reached her ears, filled with desperation as you called out to her.

“Natty, love? Can we talk?”

“Help us, Natasha.”

“Natasha, please talk to me.”

“Natasha!”

“Natasha! Wake up!”

“No!”

Natasha jolted awake, the loud call of her name immediately took her away from the depths of her dream. She panicked as she found herself surrounded by the darkness of your shared bedroom. Clint was holding her and she immediately ripped herself away from him, her movements sharp and agitated.

“Hey,” Clint's voice was gentle, a calming presence amidst the chaos of her thoughts. “Natasha, breathe,” he urged, his hand reaching out to rest on her shoulder but Natasha flinched, “You’re okay, everything is fine.”

“Where's Y/N?” Natasha demanded, her voice husky and rushed as she moved away from the bed ignoring her best friend's concern for her because clearly, nothing is fine.

“Nat,” Clint circled the bed to get to Natasha and she immediately got into defensive form.

“Are we really gonna do this again?” He asked, his hands raised in a placating gesture. And that's when the memories came rushing back, flooding her senses with a torrent of emotions. She remembered the weight of her gun in her hand, the cold metal pressed against the back of her best friend's head and the team trying to calm her down. The last thing she saw was your stretcher above her.

Natasha's breath hitched as the memories overwhelmed her, and she felt her legs buckle under her. She reached out to grab onto the bed, her legs weak and unsteady. She had come dangerously close to losing it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Natasha's voice shook as she apologized over and over again, her eyes filling with tears as she felt the weight of her emotions bearing down on her. She felt Clint's arms wrap around her once more, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

He tightened his grip on her, feeling the tremor that ran through her body. “Shh,” he whispered, rubbing small circles on her back with his hand. “It’s okay. You're fine, Nat. You're safe here.”

Natasha nodded, taking a deep shuddering breath as she tried to collect herself. “Where's Y/N?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Clint, where is she? I need to see her.” Her eyes pleaded with him, searching for answers.

Clint could see the desperation in her gaze and knew exactly what she needed, you.

“You'll see her alright?” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “But right now I need you to rest.”

Natasha was about to refuse, she needs to see you now, but she knew better than to fight with her best friend. She needed to rest, to get her strength back before she gets to see you again. She nodded weakly, allowing Clint to help her up.

“You shower, get some fresh clothes and I’ll have some food over. After that you can see your girlfriend.”

⧗

Natasha worked diligently, her eyes alight with a soft and caring glow as she arranged everything on the bed. She had brought out all of your favorite blankets, each one softer and more comforting than the last. Her eyes landed on the strawberry plush, and her lips curved into a soft smile. She remembered how you had squealed with delight when she had won it for you at the basketball booth at a carnival.

“Hey Nat, you ready to go? Dr. Cho is waiting for you.”

Natasha startled at the sudden interruption, blinking as she tried to shake off her thoughts. “Oh, uh, yeah,” she said, her voice a little softer than usual. “Did she ask me to bring something? Does she want anything? Food? How's Y/N?” Natasha continuously asked as she put the blanket and pillow on a bag.

But Clint only muttered, “C’mon,” not wanting to break the news himself to her best friend. He’ll let Dr. Cho do the job on answering that.

Natasha felt her heart beat faster with each step as she and Clint made their way to the Medbay. She could feel her hands trembling, but she clenched them into fists at her sides, trying to keep her composure. As soon as she entered the medbay, she saw Dr. Cho and Wanda by your bedside. Her eyes immediately went to your unconscious form on the bed, her worry deepening. Why aren't you awake yet?

She felt Wanda's intense gaze on her and Natasha immediately put her face away from her direction, gripping the bag she brought. She couldn't shake off the feeling of discomfort of the witch’s presence.

Dr. Cho, as if reading the room, asked Wanda and Clint to give them privacy.

When the two left the medbay, Natasha finally allowed herself to breathe. The witch's intense gaze had made her uneasy, adding to her worry about you. She let out a long sigh of relief as the doors closed behind them, leaving her alone with Dr. Cho.

“How are you feeling, Romanoff?” Dr. Cho started.

“I’m fine. How is she?” Natasha immediately asked as she put the bag down at the side table of your bed.

Natasha's eyes lingered on your unconscious form, she carefully held your hands and a sudden flash of her dream returned to her mind.

Your body lying in front of her with no eyes, ribcage splayed open, heart and lungs missing, stomach slashed open and your baby taken out of it…

She immediately shut her eyes to remove the thought in her head, the urgency she felt in the dream now mirrored in the real world.

“Romanoff.”

Natasha's gaze snapped to Dr. Cho at the sound of her name, quickly trying to mask her panic with a cool, calm expression. She took a deep breath, her voice coming out steady and collected, “Yeah? H-how is she?” she asked once again.

“Y/N suffered a blow to the head, causing significant trauma. There's no way to predict when she'll regain consciousness...”

Natasha's brow pinched at Dr. Cho's words. The idea of you being unconscious, possibly for an extended period of time, weighed heavily on her. She searched for more information, “Are you saying she's in a coma?”

“A light one.” The doctor pointed out, correcting her.

“And the baby?”

Natasha's gaze shifted from your face and to the printed ultrasound image Dr. Cho handed her, she shakily reached out to get it and her other hand never leaving yours. Her features softened as she took in the small, blurred figure on the paper. “So that's our little one?” she murmurs, a touch of awe in her voice.

Dr. Cho nodded, smiling gently at Natasha's reaction. “Yes, that is your baby at 12 weeks. As you can see, the limbs are well-formed and the baby's major organs have started to develop…”

“Oh look at that! That's your baby Romanoff!”

“Romanoff, your baby is healthy and developing just like it should. All the organs, muscles, limbs and bones are in place.”

Natasha winced as Dr. Cho pointed out the tiny head, spine, and other features of the developing fetus to her, explaining that these details were visible at this stage of pregnancy. Natasha tries her best to listen attentively, but the memories are trying to get back in her head.

“Did you know she was pregnant?”

“You didn't know until now did you?”

“Oh, that's a shame.”

“You are a bad mother.”

“Romanoff, are you sure you're alright?” Dr. Cho asked, worry written all over her face as she noticed Natasha drifting off once again.

“Yeah,” she answered dismissively, “There's uhm uhh…a cut on her stomach—”

“It's all patched up now.” The doctor said reassuringly, not letting her finish.

“Can I uhm…can I have some time with Y/N alone?”

“Of course, whatever you need. I’ll leave you two now.” Dr. Cho tapped Natasha's shoulder for comfort as she retreated to the medbay.

Natasha swallowed thickly, her throat constricting as she finally, finally felt like she could breathe freely. It was just the two of you now and that's what she needed. The machines beeping in the background seemed to fade into the distance as Natasha's gaze locked onto your unconscious form.

She was acutely aware of the soft rise and fall of your chest as you slept, the gentle curve of your belly where your little bean settled.

“Detka, I need you to wake up now…” she said as she gently removed the blanket you had and replaced it with the ones she brought, which is your favorite one. She now pulled the strawberry plush and laid it beside your pillow.

“I need you to wake up so I can make it up to you.” Natasha gently brushed a strand of hair from your forehead.

A single tear slipped down her cheek as Natasha brought your hands to her lips, pressing a tender kiss before resting it gently on her cheek. She closed her eyes, taking in the warmth of your skin against hers before falling into slumber.

⧗

You slowly blinked your eyes open, your senses still groggy from whatever they put or injected in your body. Your left hand was wrapped around by a figure, holding it close as they slept sitting up right next to you on the bed.

Your right hand snatched the nasal cannula out of your nose and the IV lines that are connected to your forearm. Slowly, you pulled your left hand out of the tight hold of the figure sleeping beside your bed. You started to breathe hard, finding some support for you to stand up.

Natasha's eyes snapped open as she felt the bed movements and the warm hand she's holding is now out of her grasp.

“Baby? Hey…”

She felt alarmed hearing the machine beeping continuously and the oxygen out of you. You snatched everything that is connected to your body and now slowly moving away from the bed.

“Detka,” she called again, holding her hands out even though it's your back facing her.

But you didn't hear, there’s this loud thumping in your ears, you can feel as if someone is hammering your head, and the only thing you can see is a blur. Nothing is clear and you’re feeling numb.

You continued to move until your feet felt the cold tiled floor and that's when you lost consciousness for a second. You can only feel a warm body catching you, you locked eyes with the emerald ones before you feel your body taken out from her embrace.

⧗

Natasha paced back and forth outside the medbay, her mind racing as she waited for word about you. She was still reeling from the events that had led to this moment, and she couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that had settled into her bones.

“You deserve it.” Wanda’s words cutting through the air like a knife. “You're the reason why she's there.”

“Whatever is happening to you right now, you deserve it.” She spat, Natasha now sat outside the medbay, her hands over her head as she faced the floor. “I am one blink away from invading your mind, to see what happened but I respect Y/N so much. You deserve everything that you feel right now, every guilt and shame. You deserve what's happening to you but my best friend doesn't deserve to be there!”

She could only bite her cheek, shutting her eyes as if she's not hearing the witch, but she could feel the heat of Wanda's words as they washed over her, stinging like a slap in the face.

Natasha and Wanda both turned their attention to Bruce as he stepped out of the medbay, the tension between them dissipating in an instant. Wanda took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down and Natasha immediately stood, her heart thumping on her chest wanting to hear about your condition.

“How is she?” The two redheads asked in unison, Wanda can only roll her eyes.

“She's awake now.”

Wanda didn't waste a second moving inside the medbay, walking past Natasha and Bruce.

“She's stable for now,” Dr. Cho informed Natasha who was left outside the medbay, “she just disassociated when she woke up earlier.”

Natasha nodded peeking over the doctor’s shoulder to get a sight of you but she can only see Wanda sitting beside your bed.

“Hey…how are you lyubov?” Wanda asked her fingers grazing yours.

“I feel weak,” you mumbled but gave the witch a soft smile, you managed to hold her hand that made Wanda sob. “Hey, I’m fine Wanda.”

She held your hand tightly and brought it to her cheek, “You should be, you really should be.” You hummed as you wiped the tears that streamed down to her face.

Natasha stood just outside the medbay entrance, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched you and Wanda interact. Your eyes flick towards her and you can read her lips muttering, “Hey,” to you.

“I want to rest for a bit.” You said, immediately avoiding Natasha and the witch noticed the tension between you and your girlfriend.

“Sure.” Wanda was about to stand to leave when you held your hands up, “Stay, Wanda. Please.”

Natasha could read the situation clearly, you didn't want her around. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut because all she wanted to do is to hold you and pepper you with kisses, take care of you. But she did notice what you want and it's not her, so she respectfully stepped back, retreating out of the medbay. The coldness in her chest had deepened into an ache, but she pushed it down as she always did.

For now, she’ll give you what you need but she will never stop trying and making it up to you.

⧗

Dr. Cho informed Natasha that you are now discharged and can leave the medbay anytime soon.

Right now, she's supposed to be sitting right next to you, apologizing or…begging for forgiveness, peppering you with kisses or cuddling you. But instead here she is walking alone to your shared room. Natasha had held back her tears as she walked towards the room, but the moment she stepped inside, the floodgates opened. She couldn't hold back any longer. She let out a choked sob and collapsed onto the floor, burying her face in her hands.

Suddenly, Natasha surged to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. She couldn't contain her anger and frustration to herself any longer. With a roar of rage, she began to pummel the walls of the room, punching it with all her strength.

Eventually, Natasha's frenzy subsided, and she steadied herself against the wall, forehead resting against its cool surface. Natasha took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She closed her eyes and imagined herself in your embrace, feeling your arms wrapped around her, holding her down and keeping her grounded like you always do.

“You cannot be like this,” She whispered to herself. “You have a wife and a baby on the way to look up to. You cannot…you cannot be like this.” She repeated, as if trying to drill the words into her own brain.

Natasha slowly turned back, surveying the room with keen and puffy eyes. Without hesitation, she removed her jacket and top revealing her gray sports bra and started deep cleaning everything. Something that will occupy her for a while besides she doesn't want you to come back here with a messy and dirty room, though you always make sure that your shared bedroom is clean, both of you have tasks on what to do, on who's gonna do this or that, clean this or that. Actually it's you who gave her tasks, Natasha can be careless and a messy person at times but with you, it all changed.

Natasha started to take off the cover of the pillows and replaced them with fresh, clean ones from the closet. She then moved onto the bed sheets, pulling off the used ones.

After that Natasha moved to the bathroom, checking every corner, she pulled out the trash and some stuff scattered at the counter. When she opened the cabinet she was welcomed by a pregnancy test, not just one but three tests with two lines showing in each one.

Natasha picked the three, studying each one carefully before setting it back down again at the counter. She wondered if this was the thing you wanted to talk about before the mission. She clenched her jaw remembering how she treated you that night.

A call on the door pulled Natasha out of her thoughts. She retreated from the bathroom, taking a deep breath before opening it to reveal Clint standing on the other side.

“Hey, here's the flower you asked me to get.”

Natasha smiled as she took in the sight of the beautiful bouquet that Clint had brought for you. “I know you asked me to buy roses, the pink ones which is Y/N’s favorite but I saw these chrysanthemums and carnations. I bought this for Laura when she was pregnant with our Nathaniel. You should avoid-strong smelling flowers. Y/N’s sense of smell might be a little bit sensitive now.” Natasha listened intently as she had seen how Clint handled being a father of three. How he was able to protect her family while being an Avenger so might as well take her best friend’s every advice.

“You might wanna do some research. It's gonna be a lot but I know you two can do it.” She nodded solemnly. “Thanks, Clint.”

“Mood swings, Nat,” Clint chuckled as she warned Natasha, “It's gon’ be a hell of a ride.”

“Oh yeah it is, even though she wasn't pregnant yet it was a rollercoaster already.” She smirked remembering how she handled your mood swings during the course of your relationship.

“Oh Nat, now it's gonna be a whole new level.”

After a few more words of farewell, Natasha went back inside the room, and placed the flowers gently in a vase beside your shared bed. She filled the vase with water from the bathroom sink, letting it flow over each bloom as she arranged them.

Natasha settled on the couch after putting back the vase beside the bed. She put on some headphones as she lost herself to some music. An automatic vacuum hummed quietly in the background, gliding smoothly over the floor and picking up any debris.

Natasha indeed took Clint's advice, she was reading and researching about the changes that were happening to your body and what to expect during the course of the pregnancy. You're now in your 12th week and she read that during week 12 of pregnancy you’re wrapping up your first trimester and the odds of miscarriage are highest in the first trimester.

She took notes and made a mental list of things to expect.

“Your baby is only as big as a passion fruit but is growing and developing.” Natasha read to herself.

“Baby bump’s first appearance depending on the body type, food cravings, weird food cravings,” Natasha murmured, she continued, “Dizziness, mood swings, sore breast, heightened sense of smell,” She hummed, remembering her best friend's advice about sensitivity of your smell.

Natasha did a double-take as she read the last item on the list.

“Spike in sex drive?”

A knock on the door interrupted her researching and reading and she quickly put her headphones down, turning her attention towards the entrance.

She opened the door to see you standing there, a strawberry plush in your hand, and Bruce behind you carrying the bag of blankets she brought in the medbay. Her eyes widened slightly but she quickly composed herself, her expression softening as she took in your face, “Hey.”

You took in the sight of Natasha, your mind being in a haze. She is dressed in a gray sports bra and matching sweatpants, headphones clinging on her neck. Her arms were flexed like always and you could see the details of beads of sweat on her defined abs. Your breath hitched in your throat.

Natasha, noticing your gaze on her, quickly took the bag from Bruce. You walked past her already and went inside the bedroom.

“Dr. Cho will check in on her periodically.” Bruce informed the redhead.

“Thanks, Bruce.”

You sat at the bed slowly, noticing the new sheets of the bed and the flowers, the smell of it invading your nostrils. You caress the softness of the sheet while the strawberry plush sat on your thighs.

“Hey baby, how are you feeling?” Natasha asked as she closed the door. She put the bag down where you put your dirty laundry.

“Baby?” She called again, “You know you can't avoid me forever.”

“Yeah, like you did me the other night?” you replied with a dry tone.

A heavy silence fell between the two of you and Natasha bit her lower lip in contemplation. Without hesitation, she immediately removed the headphones from her neck and walked in your direction. She gently knelt in front of you, placing the plush beside you as she took both of your hands in hers. Her bright green eyes searched for yours.

“Baby,” she began, her voice gentle and soothing. “I'm sorry.” She paused, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hands. “Please, I was out of my mind that night,” her voice is becoming shaky this time. “It was the stupidest thing I ever did,” she continued, the regret evident in her expression. She swallowed hard, squeezing your hands gently. “Please, forgive me detka? I promise it won't happen again. I’ll take care of you, cook for you, buy you gifts, whatever you want baby, just—just forgive me.”

You actually stopped listening when she said “I’m sorry” all you could focus on was her arms untensing and tensing with each movement of her hands gently gripping your own. And the smell of the flowers were now gone as your girlfriend’s cologne, which was your favorite cologne of hers, started to envelop your senses. You don't know why you're being like this.

Natasha watched as you yawned, “I'm sleepy,” you slur.

“I uhh…alright baby,” She immediately let go of your hands and stood up, hesitating for a moment. She gently guides you as you lay down to your shared bed, putting the comforter all over your body and handing you the strawberry plush.

“Sleep tight detka, I’ll be here,” to her surprise, you hummed in response as you snuggled the strawberry plush close to you, a small sound that filled the air between the two of you and it made Natasha's heart jump. She took that as a good sign and she will for sure do anything to earn your forgiveness.

Next

[claws-and-quills]

Not So Silent Treatment

A/N: This is the first time ever written anything on Logan in a really long while. Shootout to my bestie @callsignred for the idea!

CW: Profanity, Primal Hunter/Primal Prey Kink, Mentions of Male and Female Anatomy, Unprotected Sex (we're all adults here 😂), Slight Praise Kink, Oral (Female Receiving), Over Stimulation

Word Count: 5,089 I really outdid myself on this one

It had been a few days since you and Logan had returned back to the Mansion after a mission that had gone awry. The tensions that lingered between you and Logan were so thick and suffocating that you could cut through them with a knife. The mere idea of being in the same room, much less under the same roof of the Mansion as him made your blood boil. You could still hear his words. They were practically burned into the back of your mind.

During the mission, you had refused to take orders from Logan towards the end. It was a do or die situation, and you let your emotions get in the way of your judgments. If it hadn't been for you having your own healing factor, that day would have been your last. While attempting to take down a rogue mutant, you and Logan both had been overtaken from underestimating this mutant. You refused to flee despite Logan yelling at you to get out of there. In turn, you sat there on the bed you usually shared with Logan, gazing up at the roof.

The bed felt so empty without Logan laying next to you. After the argument each of you had, he had refused to sleep in there with you. This hurt worse than that piece of steel that had impaled you through the left lower portion of your abdomen. Neither of you would apologize for the things that each of you had yelled at each other. It was in the heat of the moment and out of irrational emotions. You sigh with exasperation, tossing and turning, unable to find sleep.

“This is stupid…all of this is stupid.”

You curse under your breath and force yourself up and out of the bed. The emptiness of the room felt suffocating. It felt as though someone had dropped a ton of bricks onto your chest. Glancing at the small clock that rested on the dresser, the time read 02:45. It was almost three in the morning on the fifth day, and still, neither you nor Logan spoke a word to each other. You angrily grab a pair of your jeans and a tank-top to replace your pajamas. At this point, you had figured maybe getting out of the mansion for a little while could do you some good.

Cracking the door open, you glance both ways around the hall to be sure no one was wandering this late. Seeing it empty, you quietly exhale a breath and sneak towards the staircase and tiptoe down to the first level of the mansion. Parts of you begged that Logan was asleep, but your heart screamed that he would be awake and that you could try to talk about what happened. Straining your eyes, you try to see if you can see the figure of Logan on the couch. Your gut nagged at you to sneak closer, but you also wanted out of there for a few minutes. Fresh air would do you some good, and hopefully a jog around the campus would tire you enough to be able to sleep.

Furrowing your brows, you sigh dejectedly and quietly snake your way out of the door of the mansion. The night air was cool and crisp. The pale moonlight had cast an eerily familiar glow across the night sky. Stars twinkled like tiny lanterns against the blanket of black sky. The moisture that clung to the air had formed a ghastly ring around the moon, and filled the air with a soothing chill that prickled at your skin.

Once you are far enough away from the mansion, you bring yourself into a light jog. The cool, night air stung your lungs and gripped your chest, almost constricting your lungs. Cursing, you push yourself to pick up your pace. The only sounds you could hear were the chirping of crickets and the light fluttering of your heart in your chest. In that moment, your legs brought you further and further away from the mansion. The farther away you managed to bring yourself from there, the closer you drew to breaking.

Your chest grew tight and the back of your throat began to burn with emotion. Tears had begun to sting the corners of your eyes, and before you knew it, your knees were crumbling from beneath you, sending you to the ground onto your hands and knees. Hot tears fell from your eyes, staining your cheeks as you punched the ground. Your emotions hit you like a runaway freight train. Anger. Sadness. Remorse. Hurt. They surged through your veins like a hurricane threatening to tear you apart from the inside out.

Your mind wandered back to the mission. You could still picture everything vividly. Hear everything vividly.

“Get out of here! Go! I can handle these assholes!” Logan had yelled at you while struggling against the rogue mutant and several of its cronies.

“No! I'm not leaving here without you! We came here as a team, we're leaving here as a team!” You had retorted. Ya'll were outnumbered and potentially outmatched. But neither of you wanted to give up so easily. Your protesting against Logan had distracted him enough to leave him vulnerable. Even if it was just a few seconds, you saw the impending attack coming.

“Logan!!!” You cried out, rushing to him and hastily pulled him out of the way of the approaching attack that landed you injured. You didn't care about your own well being at that moment. You had pulled Logan out of the way, but landed yourself severely injured and the rogue mutant had escaped.

As you thought back to it, the more tears that fell down your cheeks. You were mad at yourself, mad at Logan, mad at everyone and anyone possibly that was involved on that mission. But that wasn't even the part that had hurt you the most. It was the argument after you had recovered.

“When I tell you to leave, I mean it. You could have gotten yourself killed! What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I was trying to protect you! You're welcome by the way. No thank you. No that you're glad I'm okay. No nothing?! Just straight to tearing into me?!”

“Protect me? By getting yourself killed?! Oh, very smart. Perfect. You almost got yourself killed and we failed the mission thanks to you!”

“Fuck you. You can be a real prick, Logan. A real fucking prick.”

“Rather be a prick than an idiot, Princess.”

“Just get out. If you're just here to lecture me, then get the fuck out! Get out! I'm done!”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

That wasn't how you wanted things to go. It wasn't how you pictured things would go. The last thing you wanted to do was to yell at Logan the way you had, much less end things on such a sour note. You sniffle, wiping your eyes on the back of your wrists. The damage was done. The words were said. You curse under your breath at yourself for breaking down again like this. Just as you began to move to get to your feet, you could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Your heart crawled its way deep into your throat, making you almost choke on your own breath. You recognized that stride; Logan. What the hell was he doing out here?

He walked next to you without a word. His brows were knitted together tightly, eyes dark and lost in thought. Without a word, he plops down next to you, resting his forearms on his knees. His eyes were fixed on the dark labyrinth of forest that surrounded the mansion. A rich had worked its way into his jaw as he silently mulled things over in his head. There was so much he wanted to say, but yet he still remained adamant on not breaking his silent treatment towards you.

It took everything in you to not stare at him. Your heart somersaulted in your chest. It felt like you were laying your eyes on him for the first time all over again. You missed him, and he missed you, but both of you were too level headed to say anything. You swallow dryly as the corners of his lips twitch slightly. Fuck. You knew he could hear the way your heart was fluttering. You wanted to stay mad at him, but at this point, you didn't have the energy anymore. Before you can open your mouth, by some miracle, he broke the unofficial oath of silence between you two.

“Stop trying to fake it. I can hear it , y'know.” You wanted nothing more than to pounce on him right then and there, but you kept your composure. Sniffling again, you shrug off his comment.

“I was jogging. Of course my heart is going to be beating a little harder, Captain Obvious.” You practically hiss at him. It was growing harder to stay mad at him. You missed him. You missed his voice. You missed the way he smelled of oak, leather, and mint. You frantically blink away the tears that threatened to form in the corners of your eyes.

“Can tell the difference, Princess. Don't have to lie about it,” he states bluntly. He knew he was getting under your skin at this point. You hated how smug he appeared to be. You hated how he could be so comfortable doing this without so much as an apology. At this point you'd be satisfied with a half-assed ‘I was wrong’ from him, but you knew that would never happen.

Silence then fell between each of you again. You tried your best to ignore him being there, focusing your attention on anything but him. But his presence was damn near unbearable. He had sat close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, but just far enough to be right out of immediate touch. You catch yourself glancing at him, eyeing him up and down. With the white beater he wore, you could see how visibly tense he was. His biceps looked tense, hard even. His chest slowly rose and fell with steady breaths. It felt impossible to pry your eyes off of him.

“Y'know, for being so mad at me, you sure are starin’ a lot. S'there something on your mind?” He finally turns to face you, cocking his head to the side. You tried your best to look away from him, but for some reason, he just wasn't having that. He moved closer to you despite your efforts to keep your gaze away from him. He finally settles himself in front of you; the way he was crouched in front of you forced you to drag your eyes towards him. His gaze was hard on you, but something about it was different. Part of you half expected another lecture to come from him.

“If you came out here to give me another lecture, you're wasting your time.” You state bluntly and try to turn away from him, but he grabs your knee tightly in his hand, dragging you closer to him. The sudden tug earns a soft yelp from you. The force causes you to fall against your back into the grass. Logan moves to rest his weight on the palms of his hands on either side of your head, his knees encasing your hips leaving you with nowhere to go. Your heart thundered in your chest and ears. As much as you wanted to stay mad at him, your body instinctively gave in to how easily he could overpower you. You felt mad; you felt hopeless; but underneath everything, you wanted him–no–needed him back. Tears began to burn the corners of your eyes again, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut again to keep the tears from falling.

Logan audibly exhales a heavy sigh. He moves his hand to gently rest on your cheek, using his thumb to wipe away your tears. Seeing you like this tore him apart on the inside. This hurt him in ways he never knew he could hurt. “Look at me. C'mon, hey. Hey…look at me, please. You know damn good and well I don't like beggin’ now, Darlin’.”

His gaze was still hard on you, but his voice was surprisingly soft. You finally open your eyes to gaze up at him. God you wanted him so badly. You finally move your hands to gently rest against his chest. His heart thrumbed rhythmically deep in his chest; every beat you felt against the palm of your hand pushed your anger down further. You knew it, and he knew it too that neither of you meant all of those words from before. “Lo…I--I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry…”

Your sentence is cut short as he presses his lips against yours for a hungry and needy kiss. He tasted heavenly on your lips, sinful even. His tongue flicks against your lower lip, begging for entrance. Your lips part with a needy moan, allowing him entrance. His fingers find their way into your hair at the base of your skull, tugging harshly to force you to crane your neck as another sinful moan fell from your lips. The new angle allows him to deepen the kiss even further. Your arms snake around his neck, wanting to hold him there and never let go.

He breaks away from the kiss to hungrily gulp down air. A string of saliva remained connected between both your and his lips. His eyes close again as he presses his forehead against yours, breathing in your scent and slowly exhaling a shaky breath. “M'sorry too. I really am. Thought I–I was going to lose you…” He buries his face into the hollow of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites along your pulse. The heat of his breath against your skin sends bolts of electricity through your body. A layer of goosebumps scratch their way onto the surface of your skin.

“Lo…” You whine quietly, craning your neck to give him better access. The scruff on his chin scrapes against your skin, making your eyes flutter as your entire body begins to grow hot. You wanted him. Needed him. A soft gasp escapes you at the sensation of his teeth sinking into your tender skin just above your collarbone. Any harder and you knew his teeth would draw blood, but you didn't care. You wanted him to take you, to mark you, to make you his again. “Lo, please…my god, please…”

He releases your shoulder, his mouth leaving behind a rapidly bruising hickey there. You couldn't help the heat that you felt growing in the pits of your gut and loins. Your thighs ached and your pussy burned for him and his touch. You lift your head to gaze up at him. He was hunkered down on all fours, his eyes were dark, primal even as he licked his lips. He could still taste your sweet and tender skin on his lips, and he wanted more, needed more. Your heart began to thunder uncontrollably within your chest. Fear and arousal filled your body. The sweet scents made his pupils dilate as he breathed you in once more, growling lowly deep in his chest.

“Run. Run little lamb. I'll be kind enough to give you a headstart.” He husks through a growl that sends a shiver down your spine. The look in his eyes was so much more than a wanting need. This was a primal want, a hunger–a hunger that only longed for you and your body. Your legs felt weak with fear and arousal. There was only one other time you had experienced Logan like this, and by God's did you want to experience it again. You're slow to get to your feet. Your head is swimming with different emotions and scenarios.

“Lo–”

“Ten seconds, little lamb.”

Fuck, he was serious. You were almost too afraid to turn and run.

“Nine.”

He was standing at this point. He stood close to a foot over you in height. The corner of his lips twitched into a near snarling grin as he started to walk–no–stalk towards you. Your heart is still thundering in your chest, you manage to find the strength in you to try to run. You didn't know where you would run to; all you knew is that your legs went into overdrive, carrying you wherever you could. All you knew is that you had to run. Run as far and fast as you possibly could. You glance over your shoulder, seeing him still standing there with his eyes still trained on you.

‘Five. Come on legs, move! Faster dammit! Faster!’ Your thoughts raced wildly. You had two options, run to the forest or try to run to the Mansion. You felt hopeless, cause at any second, you knew Logan would be on you like a rabid and hungry animal. The thought of that only added to your growing arousal. The heat between your thighs was almost unbearable. You needed some sort of friction to help with the ever growing ache.

‘Shit. Shit. Shit! Oh god, I can hear him. Move legs! Move faster, dammit!’ It was undeniable. You knew Logan was now rapidly closing in on the distance you had made from him. You could hear every breathy, pant he took with every step he made towards you. Taking one last glance over your shoulder, your eyes widened in shock at how quickly he moved across the ground. He was on all fours, bounding towards you with no intention of stopping until he had you in his grasp. You try to force your legs to move faster, but your calves begin to burn. You were doomed. Your chest and lungs burned with every breath you gulped down. He was drawing himself closer by the second. You could see his silhouette on the ground behind you growing nearer. You gulp down the lump in your throat.

“Not fast enough, little lamb.” His voice rasped as he grew closer. Within seconds, his arms are curling around you as he tackles you down to the ground. Curling his body around yours, he takes most of the impact as you're both sent tumbling across the grass. You desperately try to push him off, but it’s to no avail. You're pinned to the ground by him, but still, you desperately try to wriggle free from him which only makes him growl with pleasure at your struggling.

“Logan, please.” You whine again, chest heaving and body aching. You try to rub your thighs together for friction, but that idea is short-lived. Using his knees, he forces your thighs apart while hungrily crashing his lips against yours. The heat of his mouth swallows up your moans.

“Please what? Use your words, little lamb.” He husks against your lips. His hands snatch your wrists as you try to touch his chest, pinning them above your head. Like this, you were completely at his mercy, awaiting to viciously and lavishly be devoured by him.

“Need you. I need you. Please. Logan, I need you.” You beg hopelessly beneath him. He growls lowly under his breath, his entire body vibrating against yours as he does so. You weren't sure how much longer you could handle this. Your entire body felt like it would explode at any moment from the anticipation. “Logan, I need you…need you to take me…claim me…fuck me…”

“That's a good little lamb,” he husks again. His voice is raspy, bassy even. Leaning back onto his heels, he pulls you flush against his chest with a sinister smirk. “Tonight, you're mine, and only mine.” In one fluid motion, he's onto his feet, pulling you along with him as he tosses you over his shoulder with ease. You clamp a hand over your own mouth to muffle your pitiful squeak. This was it, you were done for, but by the gods did you need this. For days, each of you had been starved of attention, affection and each other's touch. Each of you needed this more than either of you could comprehend.

His chest was heaving. The scent of your arousal was driving him crazy. He could hear your heart fluttering rapidly in your chest, your shallow breaths, and the soft, muffled whimpers of need that you desperately tried to hide through the palm of your hand. Every step, he grew closer to the Mansion where he quietly entered and made his way up the stairs with you. You prayed that everyone was still asleep; that no one would be able to hear the way he was going to fuck you.

He sets you down so that he can open the door to the bedroom he shared with you. You practically stumble through the door, eager for his touch to be on you again. Once the door is closed and locked, he's on you again like a feral animal. His lips crash against yours as he backs you up towards the bed. He breaks the kiss for a moment, eagerly tugging your shirt up your body and over your arms, tossing it somewhere across the room. You take the opportunity to hike his beater up his stomach and chest; grabbing the garment and tugging it over his head, he tosses it as well before reconnecting his lips to yours.

His fingers maneuver around the waist of your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them with ease. Your hands wrestle with his, eagerly tugging both your jeans and panties down your thighs while trying to kick off your shoes. A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest at your eagerness. Gripping your hips tightly, he guides you to lay back onto the mattress where you finish kicking off your shoes and garments. He drags his eyes across your body. The moonlight casts soft shadows across your curves, making him drag his tongue across his lower lip.

“You next,” you pant to him. You needed him like a drug. Against his will, you sat up and eagerly reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle due to how your hands trembled. He groans as you eagerly tug his jeans and boxers down his thighs; his erection springing free from the confines of his boxers. You move to take him into your mouth, but he stops you with a harsh hand on your throat.

“Oh no, princess. Not this time. Tonight, you're mine. You belong to me.” The words sounded like sinful silk coming from his mouth. You scoot back onto the mattress, heart pounding as he follows right behind you. Beads of sweat rested along the ridge of his brows and his back glistened in the pale moonlight of the room as he drew closer to you. He wraps your legs over the top of his shoulders, dipping his head into the aching heat between your thighs. He slowly drags his tongue through the slick folds of your cunt. You moan heatedly, arching your back slightly at the sensation. He growls into your slick cunt, sending vibrations straight to your core as he drags his tongue through your cunt again, pausing over your clit where he draws tight, deliberate circles over the bundle of nerves.

His fingers dug deep into the fleshy parts of your thighs, his nails leaving tiny crescent shapes that were bound to bruise later. A needy growl falls from his lips as he sucks your clit between his lips, flicking the tip of his tongue against the sensitive bud. Your legs trembled at the sensation, making you desperately grind yourself into the demanding heat of his mouth. He pulls away briefly, only to dive back into the heat between your legs. His tongue plunges into your sopping and trembling cunt; the scruff on his chin adds the friction you desperately needed. Your hands manage to find the crown of his head; your fingers become entangled in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp as you desperately chant his name.

“Mmph–fuck, Lo…don't stop, don't stop…” You chant through desperate, breathy pants. He was edging you closer and closer to your first orgasm. He could feel the way your pussy flexed as you were nearing your first orgasm of the night. He groans at the way you ground your cunt into his mouth. His hand releases your thigh, plunging two fingers deep into your trembling core. His tongue flicks against your clit again, and again, drawing you closer to spilling over the edge. He draws his fingers away, only to plunge them deep into you again in rhythm with the movements of his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….Logan, I'm so close…please–” Your eyes roll to the back kf your head as your vision goes white. Your first orgasm hits you like a freight train. Your thighs shake and tremble uncontrollably as you desperately try to push him away from your aching clit, but his grip on your thigh helps to hold you down in place. It felt as though your whole body was lit ablaze while you rode out your first high of the night, gasping for air as he finally pulled away once he's finished lapping you up.

“You're doing so well for me. Look at you, making such a mess for me like a good girl.” He coos while massaging your thighs. The remnants of your orgasm glisten on his chin as he drags his eyes across your body again. “I fucking need you. Crave you. We're just getting started. Don't tell me you're all fucked out already.” He places a tender and chaste kiss to your clit, and then onto your stomach, working a trail up the length of your body until he meets your lips. You eagerly and hungrily kiss him, tasting yourself upon his lips and tongue.

“No. Need you. Please.” You beg against his lips. He rests his weight on one of his forearms, using his other hand to swipe the head of his cock through your still ever weeping cunt. A shaky sigh falls from your lips as his cock slowly fills your still sensitive and overstimulated folds. He pulls out, only to snap his hips against yours, filling you to the brim as he buries his entire length into you up to the hilt. You groan into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

His lips find yours again, desperate and needy. Your lips part, allowing him more access into your mouth. Your tongue meets his, dancing for dominance through the kiss. He tasted heavenly sinful on your tongue; you could still taste the faint remnants of yourself in his mouth and saliva. He snaps his hips against yours again, grinding his hips against yours. You whimper out out needy moan as he somehow buries himself deeper into your folds. Every thrust of his hips was harsh and deliberate, filling you to the core and splitting you open more.

You break away from the kiss, your lips meeting his jaw with a trail of kisses along his jawline and to his neck and throat. You trail your tongue along the length of his pulse while dragging your nails down his back. He growls almost primitively, snapping his hips once again. The room is filled with the sinful sounds of skin colliding against skin; the sounds mixed into the soft symphony of moans and groans that come from both you and Logan.

“Do it again. Fuck…” He groans against the shell of your ear. Nodding, you rake your nails down his chest this time, your nails leave behind welting scratch marks on his skin. Your back arches up from the mattress as he slips a hand between your bodies; his fingers find your clit, drawing tight circles around the bud, eliciting a high pitched squeal from you. Desperate for more, you wrap your legs around his waist, digging your heels into the back of his thighs. Your toes curl as another coil begins to tighten in your abdomen. His cock throbbed deep within your quivering pussy, his length dragging along your walls made your legs tremble and shake.

“Lo…Oh fuck, I'm so close…” You pant desperately. Your hands rest on his shoulder blades, your nails sinking into his chiseled back. His thrusts stutter slightly, faltering as he grew near the edge. You could feel the way his cock throbbed that he was close to orgasm. “Oh fuck…please, Logan…don't stop, Don't stop…” You chant, burying your face into the hollow of his neck.

“Fuck…you're so tight. Feel so fucking good. Want you to cum on my cock. Cum for me, princess. Fuck…” He groans, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His breath is hot against your skin with every desperate pant that escapes from him. He slips his other arm underneath your back, pulling you close against him as the walls of your pussy tighten and contract around his cock. Your vision blurs to white again as you cry out his name like a sinful prayer. He groans heatedly, his back arching as his orgasm finally hits not too far behind yours, painting the inside of your cunt and cervix white.

His thrusts slow until his hips finally still against yours. He pants raggedly against your shoulder, removing his hand from your abused and overly stimulated clit. He gazes down at you, his expression soft and brows furrowed with concern. The back of his throat burned with emotion as he rests his forehead against yours.

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” He asks softly, his hand gingerly cups your cheek.

You shake your head, placing a tender kiss on his nose. “No. Not at all. I'm so sorry, Logan…for everything. I didn't mean any of what I said…”

“Ssshhh…I know, I know…” He gently pulls you with him as he rolls onto his back with you laying on his chest. His heart pounded rhythmically against your hands. “I'm sorry too…I was a dick. I shouldn't have yelled at you.” His eyes fell on the jagged scar that now claimed the lower left portion of your abdomen. His eyes soften more as his hand gently touches the scar for the first time since you had been released from the infirmary.

“Guess this means we're on talking terms again? No more silent treatment?” You try to tease lightly, which earns a chuckle from Logan.

“Oh,I think we're well past the silent treatment, princess.” He gently pulls you down for another chaste kiss.

[firstkanaphans]

I know this post is only for like two people, but I’m going to make it anyway. So, my obsession with Dead Friend Forever finally reached critical levels and I resorted to binge-watching The Hidden Character just to get more content. For those that don’t know, The Hidden Character (which they literally call “THC”) was the reality show Be On Cloud used to cast DFF. It is bad. Like really bad. And not in a it’s-so-bad-it’s-good-type way. It’s one of the most exploitative pieces of media I have ever watched. I walked into it with a favorable view of BOC, Mile, Apo, and Pond (the CEO), and walked out of it hating all of them.

A small collection of things that happened over the 11-episode run:

Everyone was told that they had to share every single aspect of their life with the viewers or they would be eliminated. And, in fact, the first person eliminated was told that it was because he wasn’t being open enough with the audience. They filmed these boys—one of whom was only seventeen at the time—talking explicitly about their sex lives. Which is, of course, fine to talk about. It’s not fine to air it on television! Even some of the games themselves contained sexually suggestive content (i.e. Which do you prefer "eating" with—your hands or your mouth? If you were to cheat on your significant other, would it be just sex or a full-blown affair?)

During the first part of the show, everyone had a secret that the other players were supposed to guess. One of the player’s secret was that he used to be homophobic. (Questionable casting for a company that only hires men, but I digress). He was praised for having changed his mind. In contrast, JJay’s secret was that he was raised in an abusive household and had once hit his father. Pond crucified the poor guy for this. He made him sit there in front of the whole cast sobbing and apologize for hitting his dad who was an abusive asshole.

After the first half of the show—which served absolutely no purpose at all—we finally move onto the acting portion. This is, after all, supposed to be a talent competition. The judges were so mean. Especially Apo. He was like the Simon Cowell of BOC. There was no constructive component to their criticism. The fact that any of these people are still acting is honestly unbelievable. I would have gone home and cried myself to sleep and then never stepped foot on a stage again.

At one point, each of the groups was assigned a scene from KinnPorsche to act out (because BOC very clearly owns no other IP). One of the pairs was given the scene where Porsche gives Kinn a handjob in the bathroom. I wish I was kidding. 

The judges constantly told the contestants to make their scenes feel new and different but any time the actors actually tried to change anything, they complained it was “too” different and the original script was already perfect so who were they to think they could create something better. Once again, Apo and Mile, the original actors of these scenes, are the ones judging them! Like of course they like their version better. What is even happening??

And finally, the whole fucking thing was rigged for Ta to win. Like don’t get me wrong, I love Ta and I think he did a great job, but he was the only one who came into that competition with a built-in fanbase and the winner was chosen by popular vote.

It was all just…baffling. Especially from a company that claims to be trying to change the industry. Like if you want the industry to stop being so exploitative to its actors, maybe start with yourself? It also makes those condescending “how dare you watch our shows just for the NC scenes” press releases they do every week even more annoying.

I have no clue what the reaction to this show was while it was airing but god I hope they never do it again. It literally makes me feel so weird watching DFF now. I feel like those poor kids are being held hostage. Maybe CEO Pond’s been the one under the mask the whole time 🔪

[kittybroker]

Update on the music situation! Sheet music is available here:

One of them is a piano trio. I didn't include parts because I think reading off main score is easier but I can get a separate violin and cello part if needed. If you do take a look at it or play it I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts. On the rare chance that someone would want to get a decent recording and would be fine with me using it that could also be cool. I've got one for the piano trio but am still waiting on permission from the performers for now.

For those who don't read music I have a soundcloud here:

A lot of old stuff and a lot of stuff I never finished or don't care about any more. A few quite nice pieces here.

My personal favourites from the set for the piano pieces are the 2nd and 3rd phantasmagoria. I've actually played the 2nd in a few concerts. The masquerade is a lot of fun but terribly difficult. I made the mistake of trying to give myself four weeks to get it to a performance level for a small concert. Of my older digital music I particularly like 'Eternal Clockwork Night' if you just want one of them to listen for.

I've got a few other projects upcoming I can share later, as well as some finished stuff I'm still waiting on being able to share (or can only share midi rendering from the notation software which suck).

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Bucktommy prompt: Buck finds out Tommy D&D (and is a pretty big nerd overall)

Hope you like it!

"Hey Ev, I know we were planning on date night on Friday, but is there any way we can raincheck it?" Tommy asked.

Buck was a little surprised. "Of course. Is everything okay? I checked our calendars and Friday was open for both of us. Did you pick up a shift or something?"

"No, nothing like that," Tommy replied. "There's this monthly first responder thing that I try to go to, and I've missed the past few months."

"Oh yeah? What kind of first responder thing? Another sport? Poker?" Buck asked, curious.

"Uh, not quite," Tommy said, blushing slightly. He mumbled, "It's Dungeons and Dragons."

"Wait? You play Dungeons and Dragons?" Buck said grinning at Tommy like he was the cutest thing in the world.

"Uh, yeah," Tommy replied, looking a bit sheepish. "It was sort of my escape as a kid. I would come up with these elaborate quests, and it was just so much better than being the awkward closeted gay kid. That and comic books were kind of all I had," Tommy admitted, his voice softening as he shared this piece of his past.

Buck's expression shifted from amusement to understanding, his eyes filled with warmth. "Tommy, that's... that's really cool. I had no idea you were into that stuff."

Tommy shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, well, it's not exactly something I advertise. But it's still a big part of who I am, you know?"

"I get it," Buck said, reaching out to squeeze Tommy's hand. "Thanks for sharing that with me. So, tell me more about this first responder D&D group. How did that even start?"

Tommy chuckled, seeming more at ease now. "Well, I've only been a part of it since I started at Harbor. I guess when I started there, I came out not only as gay but also as a giant nerd," he laughed.

Buck joined in the laughter, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I love that. It's like you got to be your whole self all at once."

"Yeah, it felt pretty good," Tommy admitted. "The guys at Harbor were surprisingly cool about both things. Turns out, there were a few other closet D&D fans at the station."

Tommy's expression grew more serious for a moment. "It's definitely not something I would've admitted at the 118 with Captain Gerrard in charge. And after my dad's reaction when he found out... well, let's just say it wasn't great, to say the least. I learned pretty quickly to keep that part of myself hidden too."

Buck's face softened with understanding. "I'm sorry you had to hide that part of yourself for so long. But I'm glad you found a place where you can be open about it now."

Tommy nodded, a small smile returning to his face. "Me too. It's nice to finally feel like I can be my whole self, you know?"

"I do know," Buck said, squeezing Tommy's hand. "And for what it's worth, I think your nerdy side is pretty cute."

Tommy's face lit up at Buck's words. "Thanks, baby," he said, a warm smile spreading across his face. "And maybe someday I can help you learn about it. Maybe even help you create a character," he added, his eyes twinkling with excitement at the prospect.

Buck grinned, clearly charmed by Tommy's enthusiasm. "You know what? I'd like that. And you've already met my inner nerd – the one who loves to watch documentaries and info dump about random facts."

Tommy chuckled, nodding in agreement. "That's true. And I love you for it, by the way. Your excitement when you're sharing some obscure fact is one of my favorite things about you."

Buck's cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. "Well, then maybe it's time I embraced my nerdiness fully. Who knows? Maybe I'll discover a hidden talent for D&D."

"Oh, I have no doubt," Tommy said, pulling Buck into a hug. "With your imagination and your love for details, you'll probably end up being the dungeon master before you know it."

Buck smiled brightly and somehow found himself falling even more in love with this man who could be both a brave firefighter pilot and an enthusiastic D&D player. It was just another reminder of the many layers that made up Tommy Kinard, and Buck was grateful for the chance to discover each and every one of them.

[terry-perry]

Are requests for the Alastor x carmine!reader still open because I thought of something about the early stages of their dating?

What if even though they're trying to keep it a secret and not tell a lot of people, but they can't resist being in such good moods because they're clearly in love with each other?

"I can't tell you their name but let me tell me how amazing this person is SWOON!!"

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce y'all to Lillian!

"Y/N! So good to see you baby! I feel it's been ages!"

Y/N walked into the salon and greeted her nail tech with a couple air kisses and a big hug. "Hi, Lillian -I know! I'm most definitely due for some new acrylics. Also, is Shannon in? I wanted to get my hair done too. Give it some shine, add some curls."

"She's got a few appointments, but for you? She'll make time!"

Lillian gleefully took her favorite client by the hand and led her toward her workstation. "So, nails and hair, huh? What's the occasion? Are you guys working on an important deal?"

"Nothing like that," Y/N said as she dipped her nails in the bowl of acetone placed in front of her, unable to keep her giddiness inside since she was still having trouble trying not to think about him anymore than she could help. "I have a date tonight!"

"Oh, is that so?" Lillian pondered, wide-eyed as she observed the big smile on Y/N's face.

"Yeah, it's with this guy I've been seeing for about a couple weeks. We've been going out for coffee and taking walks after work, but tonight is our first real date!"

"And where's the lucky guy taking you?" Lillian asked sweetly, focusing on buffing out the last bits of Y/N's acrylics but still investing in their conversation.

"We're going to this jazz club downtown that he likes for drinks and maybe dancing. Then he's planning on taking me to...The Severed Head."

Lillian stopped herself from making her buffer sponge slip out of her hands from surprise at hearing this. She lifted her head to show her disbelief to a practically beaming Y/N. "The Severed Head?! The fancy place people can't even afford to eat bread from?"

"The very same!" Y/N said with a giggle.

"I heard it can take up to months to get a reservation there. How'd you guys swing that?"

"He's got connections. He made a deal with the owner a while back, so you can say he's a big part of why the place has good business."

Lillian continued to look positively agog at this piece of gossip. "So he's an Overlord then. Impressive!"

Y/N hummed, looking very pensive suddenly. "He's incredible, a little rough around the edges, but he's quite the gentleman who treats me well. He's also pretty funny and charming. I feel like I can really be myself around him."

Lillian softly looked at the clearly lovestruck girl in front of her. Something rare to see in Hell was something so pure, but there it was. She was happy to witness such a sight until Y/N got serious about what she said next.

"The thing is we're not out in the open just yet. You know my mother; very few things meet her approval. I don't know if me going out with another Overlord would make that list. So we're doing our best to keep a low profile for now. We have a chance to go out tonight, but only because he had to pull some strings to ensure we'd be alone. So do you think you can keep this to yourself?"

"Oh, of course, my love! You know you can trust me. I'll take this to my grave!" When Y/N gave her a strange look, she added, "You know what I mean."

They shared a small laugh before Lillian continued her work.

Lillian heard the bell above the salon's door chime, indicating someone entered. She paused her clearing up her table to see who it was and gave them a big smile.

"Oh, if it isn't the lady killer himself!" She chirped while walking over to the front to greet them.

"Now my dear, we've been over this," Alastor replied with his trademark smile. "Those particular cases went cold. It was never proven that I was involved."

She laughed at his remark. "How can I help you today handsome? Your usual sharpening?"

"Yes, and if you don't mind, perhaps a clear coat polish. I want them to look extra sharp for tonight!"

"I can take you in a second! I just gotta finish clearing up my station." She gestured for him to follow her there while they continued their conversation. "So, what's going on tonight? Meeting the next star of your radio show? I've been kinda missing it since you've been gone."

"As much as I'd love to feature guests on my show again, I'm going to have to put a pin on that for now due to my current obligations with the princess," he sat down when she offered him a seat and when he sighed dreamily she had to do a small double take as though making sure this was still Alastor she was talking to. "No, I have plans to meet with a special lady this evening."

Lillian paused setting up her tools for Alastor's claws. Did she hear that correctly?

"Am I hearing this right?" She voiced her wonder. "Is the Radio Demon seeing someone that isn't a potential deal or guest on his show?"

"I suppose..." Alastor replied coyly, mindlessly twirling his microphone that suddenly began to play romantic jazz while he displayed a gentle smile. Seeing him like that was almost endearing, if a bit strange. "She's lovely - a dove among all the crows you find here in Hell. Our budding romance could blossom beautifully if I play my cards right! It's why I must look my best and give her a night she won't soon forget!"

Her suspicions were rising, but she needed more to absolutely know. "So what do we have planned for tonight?"

"Oh, I have quite the enchanted evening planned. We'll let some beautiful music play while we share drinks. We'll enjoy dinner and dancing, and if we have time left, I have a surprise for her I know she'll love."

"Ooh, spill!" She had to know what he had up his sleeve.

"This stays between us, right?" He asked with small notes of malicious intent as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Of course, dear," she said, not seeming to be affected by his subtle threat. "I wouldn't dare to dream of breaking nail tech-client confidentiality. I just love romance!"

He took another second to stare at her but went back to discussing his plans excitedly. "Well, she happens to love old movies. As you know, I'm not a fan of visual mediums, but she's worth it."

Lillian almost squealed right then and there. He must really think highly of this girl if he's willing to go through watching a movie with her. "Oh, so you'll finish the night with a movie?"

"A private screening of an old thriller from my time, yes," he answered. "It's about a hypnotist who brainwashes someone to commit multiple murders. I know she'll love it!"

Oh, Lillian knew this had to be Y/N he was talking about! His plans perfectly aligned with hers, and he's right about the movie. As sweet as Y/N can be, she also had a small edge which included having bizarre taste in films, books, and apparently men. She was astounded to learn about their relationship, but the more Lillian thought about it, the more they made sense. The daughter of the best arms dealer in Hell and the mischievous radio host with a soft side very few knew about. It was an unexpected pairing but also a pleasant one.

She couldn't believe she had front-row seats to what could be the start of Hell's cutest couple!

[pdpenpals]

hihi! i was wondering if i could get a romantic letter from phoenix drop high gene? she/they pronouns please :)

and for the context of the letter, maybe Gene & Reader recently started dating but can’t text because Reader is away at an academic sleep away camp (preferably centered around literature/writing)? Reader is on the more academic/nerdy side and not officially part of the SK so them doing these kinds of programs is their usual summer thing but it’s the first time Gene and Reader have been away from eachother since they started dating

tysm <33

hihi!! thanks for sending this in, i think this prompt’s absolutely adorable!

unrelated but speaking of literature whenever i see gene now that i’m older i think of heathcliff (more of the name) or the phantom for some reason.

your entire being perks up at the mention that a letter’s arrived, and your heart races as you go through who could have possibly sent it in your head. the moment you have it in your hands, you can almost tell exactly who it’s from. the envelope’s a dark gray, close enough to be black. there are stickers all over its back next to your name and address, same goes for the front. opening it, you catch a whiff of someone familiar’s cologne. that cheeky bastard. 

you notice almost immediately that there’s not only a letter inside, but a bunch of printed photos and some unused stickers. after finding a spot to settle your new goodies upon, you get comfy and get to reading.

Hey cutie. Miss me yet? 

Heard a fair’s coming to town soon. I think it’ll still be there when you get back. There should even be fireworks on the last day. We can go there if you wanna.

Other than that, nothing much happened today. Dante was out, and I had the house to myself for a good portion of the afternoon. Without sugarcoating it, I was bored out of my mind.

It took me a while to figure out my texts or calls weren’t getting through to you. Mom must have seen how frustrated I was about it, so she shared some of her spare stationery with me as a last resort. She said something about wanting to hear about how your summer’s been doing so far.

That’s all the small talk I can handle for today. You might get too tired of staring at only words for too long over there, so you might want to check out the pics taken these past few days. The stickers are from Zenix and Sasha by the way, they also say hi.

Kidding aside, I know how much this whole camp thing means to you.  But I’ve been feeling weird ever since you left. It’s weirder knowing you’re not nearby. When you’re not a walk or a call away. Even though I know exactly how many days and many hours are left until you come back.

Sappy shit out the way, I decided to read that one book you lent me at random. I’m not sure you remember it much since you hurriedly gave it to me without a second thought, but it’s that really old one about the day before the world ends. All that apocalyptic and sad shit. Even though I didn’t get it, I guess it was nice that Vincent and Leticia got their happy ending. To be honest, the book overall didn’t stand out to me much, but the concept of having one day left to live sure did.

If I knew the world was going to end tomorrow I would

Y’know, maybe it’s for the best I save it for when we meet again in person, so you better come back home in one piece, yeah?

With an aching heart and hand, Your Gene, who misses you terribly

PS. I feel like you’ve been rubbing off on me recently, state-of-mind-wise. While it’s not that bad, it gives me the chills.

PPS. If not having you near me hasn't driven me insane yet, I definitely will go mad if this letter doesn't make it to you. Especially after all I've put my wrist through just for this. Maybe I should visit the post office a few more times?

[ejzah]

As promised, here is a summary of my experience at Epic Cons Chicago and meeting Eric! I’m including some of the pictures I took (with poor attempts to censor my face). Heads up, this is a long post.

I started off early in the morning with a long drive since I’m a scaredy cat and avoid the expressway as much as possible. The convention center was very full when I arrived and it took about 50 minutes for me to register because the process didn’t seem well-organized, so that wasn’t the most fun.

But after that, I was on my way to watch Eric’s panel! The panel he appeared on, had actors from several different shows, so he wasn’t asked that many questions. As usual though, he was charming and disarming. One fan asked everyone what word they would use to describe their character and I believe Eric chose “fearless vulnerability”, which is technically two words, but so very in character for Eric. I always love listening to him talk about Deeks and the depth that he infused into the character.

I have a few poorly filmed videos from the panel that I can share if you message me. I’d rather not post them just in case my account would get deactivated again. I thought of asking a question myself, but chickened out.

After that I had a very long break before my next event, so I got some tacos from a little place inside convention center. I’d give them a 5/10. They were overpriced, pretty tiny, and overall mediocre.

Now on to the really good parts!

Next I attended a meet and greet with Eric. I was super nervous leading up to it, and kind of regretted the tacos at that point. About ten of us were ushered into a small private room with chairs set up in a circle. We were instructed not to take any videos, picture, etc, before the start, so I don’t have any additional content. Eric came in a few minutes later and ended up sitting one seat over from me (😱), which was pretty darn distracting for me.

After telling us he’d never done a meet and greet before, answered several questions and chatted with us. One of the things that really struck me was just as with every video and interview I’ve seen over the years, is that Eric was so genuine, honest, and generous.

In answer to questions, he talked about the last few seasons and why there were some irregularities. Such as that the show was supposed to end after season nine and each season after that was considered a bonus and based on ability to form a tight budget. He also confirmed that none of them knew what was in “the box” aside from possibly Shane Brennan.

The greet part of the event went by far too quickly, and before we knew it, one of the volunteers announced it was time for the selfie portion. Fortunately, another fan noticed I had been trying to ask a question and spoke up for me.

Before I asked my question, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to shoutout wikiDeeks first. Eric really lit up and expressed how much he appreciated the hard work and thought put into the writing and contributions. He brought up an episode many fans had issues with (we figured out it was probably from the FLETC episode that shall go unnamed), and said he showed a piece of wikiDeeks writing to the writers/TPTB and basically said that it was deeper and better writing. I believe that might have been @anonkp’s wonderful work! In general, he was very appreciative and complimentary of everyone at wikiDeeks. He’s so very gracious!

We were really short on time, but I did get to ask the question “what would you change about Deeks if you could?” Eric couldn’t come up with a response on the spot, so he asked me the same question in return. I told him I didn’t think anything needed to be changed about Deeks, but didn’t always enjoy how silly he was written in later seasons.

Eric shared that he tried to play those moments in a way that put Deeks in on the joke instead of being the butt of the joke as much as he could. Unfortunately, he didn’t always have that luxury.

During our conversation, Eric was very engaging and attentive. For those couple minutes, I forgot to be nervous because he made the atmosphere so comfortable. It felt like he genuinely cared about what I was saying. My only regret is that I didn’t have time to emphasize how much I appreciate Eric’s acting and portrayal of Deeks.

After that, it was selfie time! When it was my turn, Eric bent down to my level (oh my lord he’s tall), naturally in my usual awkward way, I bent down too. 🤦🏻‍♀️ Hopefully Eric saw it as charming rather than incredibly silly and awkward. Hey, at least I made him laugh, right?

He’s so beautiful!

If any fans on here were present for the meet and greet, please let me know if I forgot anything or misremembered events. My memory is often faulty.

I also chose to get a professional shot with Eric and for that one I got a hug! I’m still not over it yet.

It was a really long day and a lot of driving, but so worth it for the chance to meet and talk with Eric. And, I’m pretty sure I came out this experience even more of a fan of Eric than ever.

[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

[yuurivoice]

Hi Yuuri I just wanted to say I miss Howell. That’s all I hope you have a good day😊

I do too! There's still a lot about him I want to know and figure out. I was able to delve into him a bit more (and get some much needed closure) with some friends. I don't think he's really a character that I want to do various iterations of in different worlds and campaigns, because it's that specific story of his that I love. If it's removed from that world and story, I'd rather have another shot at a new character.

I was able to salvage a couple of relationships out of the rubble from the entire ordeal surrounding TnD, and I've got no beef with anyone who wasn't literal human trash, so Howell's place in my heart is unscathed in terms of being attached to a really shitty time and situation.

Reflecting on those days, that shit was a nightmare scenario. Obviously my own emotional turmoil pales in comparison to the literal criminal and victim in our midst, don't get that twisted because those most directly impacted by one asshole's actions should be the primary concern. It is a hell of a pill to swallow having something that dear to you go up in flames in such a public and grotesque way.

I don't blame anyone who feels any type of way about how it was handled and the aftermath of it. The truth of it all is, one person's really fucked up actions had widespread effects on a lot of people. The radius of that bomb was no joke.

Howell is very dear to me, and those Sundays were genuinely the favorite day of the week for me over that time. The backlash, anger, resentment, and then emptiness of it all really took its toll, as I'm sure it did on everyone caught in the blast zone.

The bad guy got got in the end, and I'm thankful for the folks who made sure that happened.

That year as a whole was really difficult. That wasn't the only heavy thing I had to work through that year. There was a stretch of six months that were probably the worst of my adult life in terms of interpersonal turmoil. The universe really took a bat to my kneecaps.

Saying ALLLLLLLL of that to say, if I had lost my love for Howell, it would have taken a significant toll on me creatively. I would not so freely share the parts of myself it takes to create the stories and characters I do now. I can pretty confidently say that something like Echoes or Shattered would never happen.

I struggled mightily with BitterSweet Chapter 3 for that reason. It was hard to want to carve out pieces of myself to share with the world, and certainly very difficult to work with anyone else out of fear that their bad actions could rob me of my passion even more.

But I learned a lot, and over that time I also think I was able to show my community how serious situations get handled while I'm at the helm. I hate that me and the team have been on the frontlines of a few really serious community PR nightmares, but I do think we've been able to exhibit an ability to treat things with maturity, respect, and direct action.

So Howell means a lot to me. We've been on two journeys, one fictional, and one real...and boy we've gotten our asses kicked more than a few times.

There is a chance, albeit a small one, that there's a DnD story to be told with Howell and some friends, for the world to partake in. Don't know if it'll happen, but the chances aren't 0%...

[goldxnfemme]

Missed Her by Ivan Coyote

ID under read more

ID - images show a piece by Ivan Coyote from their book Missed Her.

Text in image 1 reads:

"Throwing in the Towel

Sometimes you say things without really thinking. Sometimes you write things on Facebook without really thinking about the nine hundred people who will read them.

It all started with the towels. Not just any towels, mind you. These were brand new, fresh out of the laundry, white, pristine, and über-fluffy. I had just stepped out of my clawfoot bathtub in my new-to-me bathroom in my recently painted apartment and into the softest, most absorbent and slightly lemony scented towel this forty- year-old ass has ever felt. That towel wicked the moisture away from my butt like a dream. It felt better than my mother's towels. Better than a fancy hotel towel, even, mostly because it was mine and I knew for a fact mine was the first ass it had ever wicked water from.

It's the little things, right? I sat my luxurious towel-wrapped ass down at my desk in front of my computer and wrote, "My new towels are so fluffy and absorbent. I feel like a queen. A queen, I tell you." And then I hit "share."

Within minutes, the comments started to roll in. My lady friends all concurred. Some of my butch friends, well, some butch bonding time. A small debate ensued. A femme friend of mine suggested we all conceptualize fine linens as a high quality tool, used to entice fine ladies into your bathtub. We riffed some"

Text in image 2 reads:

"about stereotypes. I thought it was over.

The next day, I hung the freshly hemmed and pressed, sand-coloured velvet draperies in my living room, and stood back to appreciate how well they complemented the dark olive accent wall and the bone-white window trim. What can I say? It has pretty much been five years since I have had a stable, solo, sexy roof over my head. I am nesting. I sat at my desk and wrote: "Enjoying my new draperies like I do does not make me any less butch."

And again with the stream of comments. One of my friends responded that butches were supposed to keep thoughts like that to ourselves. Someone said that draperies could be butch as long as there were no pink bows on them. Someone else suggested that we needed a word for a butch metrosexual. This began a longer discussion on the various types of butch: soft butch, stone butch, old school, fag butch, gentlebutch, dandy.

I should say that all of this was fairly good- natured, and everyone's feathers went for the most part unruffled, at least on the page. But something about the whole discussion bugged me, and it got me to thinking about it all.

My first question was for myself. Why did I care if my butchness was called into question anyway? In my whole entire life I have never felt anything but butch, even before I knew the word. That is certainly the way the world views me (going mostly on what rednecks call me from passing truck windows) and how my lovers place me on the fuckability spectrum. So why did someone I barely knew"

Text in image 3 reads:

"calling me a girl and suggesting I needed some butch bonding time chap my tender ass so much? Perhaps it was all those soft towels making me more thin-skinned than usual? And what was up with my butch brothers and sisters? I re-read the comments. Most of the femmes who responded maintained that the word butch didn't need adjectives or qualifiers: just butch would do the trick. It was mostly butches who were uncomfortable with my love of fluffy towels and draperies, and mostly butches who felt the need to further categorize ourselves.

One of the femmes who responded posed the following: "There's also an element of internalized homophobia in all of this. Maybe it's a conceptual leap but it seems to me that the notion that a 'real' butch can't like a fluffy towel or use words coded as feminine to describe her-/him-/hir-self isn't that far from the idea that it's not okay for boys to play with dolls. Are queer masculinities (or whatever you want to call them) so fragile? Their beauty, diversity, and resilience over the generations prove otherwise."

I thought about it all some more. Thought back to being eight years old, and frozen in the girl's dressing room at the ladies' wear store on Main Street in Whitehorse. My aunt was getting married and my mom was insisting that wearing anything but a dress to the wedding would be rude and she wasn't going to tolerate any more arguments from me about how dressy my brown corduroy suit could really be with the right blouse. I was being forced to try on this yellow and grey dress. My mom and the shop lady were"

Text in the last image reads:

"looming outside the dressing room door, taking turns cajoling and threatening me to come out and show them how I looked. My guts were in my throat and all the moisture in my mouth was now collecting in my eyes. I was seriously too humiliated to open the door and come out. I was afraid of the wrath of my mother, and scared of the scorn of the saleswoman, but I was even more terrified of how vulnerable and wrong I felt in my body, in my skin, in my life in that dress. It wasn't just that I didn't want to be a girl. And it wasn't as easy as just wishing that I was a boy. It was the horrible realization that I was facing a world where there were no clothes for me because I didn't fit the world.

So I don't think that butch fear of our own femininity is all that simple to unravel. It is not just our own misogyny that makes us see anything less than manly as weak or less than. Our fear of our own inner girl is so much more complicated than that. Most of us grew up uncomfortable not only in our clothes, but in our pink bedrooms, our gender roles, our families' expectations, and even our own skins. We had to fight to find ourselves in all of that. And sometimes that makes it hard to drop all that armor and just sit back and enjoy the fucking draperies."

End ID

[holymaccaronii]

AAAAAH okay okay, I decided myself to share 2 things in one in this post: the lore of my ihnmaims AU + a design I’m working on. To be completely honest, I’m not sure if I’ll want to develop this AU into a fic or anything like that, but for now I’ll use it as an excuse to draw and design characters. Note that I might come back to this post and edit the lore paragraph, as it is still a work in progress, though I am liking where this is going. Please PLEASE excuse my English, some things might not make sense without me noticing, but I tried describing the plot the best I could. *Ahem*, now, the lore:

“PLAN B”

The lore takes place after the bad ending in the videogame where the player is turned into the worm, yet still doesn’t allow AM to access and torture the humans sealed in the moon colony. Since the last humans had “failed” their mission to defeat AM, a “Plan B” was scheduled to happen. Unbeknownst to the humans of the colony, another AI was created and implanted within the moon, taking up almost all of the space in its core due to its large size. This machine had the sole purpose of ensuring the survival of those humans once AM was defeated, or not. Inside it were millions of plant seeds, animal embryos and frozen samples that would later be used to repopulate the earth, yet it also had defense and destruction technologies to be used in case AM was not defeated. This machine was perfectly calibrated to be able to overcome any adversity that arose, but of course, all that changed when one of the humans managed to wake up and leave their capsule. This human got to understand what all of this was about, though they did not like where this was heading one tiny bit, thus they used the time they had left before the last human on Earth was killed to change and mess it all up. Humanity's greed had claimed yet another victim, as this AI was torn apart piece by piece until it was completely separated and rebuilt into an insane amount of sentient robot models as the years passed. This human managed to transform their own body as well, rebuilding it just as a sacred temple in order to be crowned monarch of this new society now living in a city on the moon. Despite all this, the goal of bringing humanity back still remained, now with the small condition that this human had to be considered a savior and supreme leader to all. Once the last human on Earth had died, robotic troops began to be sent to Earth to study it in detail and plan attacks against AM’s systems, which were disadvantageously located deep underground. Many of these attacks resulted in large unnecessary losses as these robots were not calibrated to combat AM, but they still continued to upgrade themselves to increase their damage range over time. This continued on as a seemingly endless war that barely progressed.

Again, I am aware that maybe some stuff might not make sense (or maybe it does?), but this is basically a continuation of what happened canonically in the videogame. The name “PLAN B” also makes reference to my OC BE, thought that was cool :p. I’ll explain the events that happen here later on as well.

Many if not all of the robots I’ll design will include a whole lotta exposed wires + their outer shell/ body parts, as I liked this dynamic, and it will be important later. The “monarch” that I mentioned in the paragraph is turning out to be this guy down here. I based myself off from those ceramic sun decorations, and thought it would be cool to make his face switchable. In reality they have a body too but I jus like wire amalgamations too much + they’re easy to draw. I’ll continue workin on em :-)

Edit: [THIS LORE IS NOT UPDATED]

[electronickingdomfox]

"Black Fire" review

Novel from 1983 by Sonni Cooper, and as far as I know, the only TOS novel from this author. This one was pretty fun, fast-paced, and a real page-turner. It's also notorious for being totally nuts, and having Spock going rogue and doing all sorts of crazy things. The intro was written by Theodore Sturgeon, no less. It's also very, veeeery spirk-heavy (and so far, the only K/S novel I've read that seems to get their relationship right, without going over-the-top).

Spock is the central character, and for the most part, the story follows his solo adventures, though Scotty shares some of these exploits in the early chapters. Amazingly, and despite all the unusual stuff that Spock gets involved with, he manages to stay believable. The other characters are all well-written too, even if they take a background place. And the same goes for the original ones, in particular Desus, the Romulan befriended by Spock.

The story takes place shortly before TMP. One thing that surprised me, is that this novel doesn't seem afraid to modify canon in substantial ways. Most of these books are more timid when playing with the characters, and focus on self-contained adventures that have little impact on the whole. Main characters are rarely put in real danger, or suffer grave injuries. Here, on the other hand, we have the entire primary hull of the Enterprise being destroyed and jettisoned in the very first chapter (a year before The Search for Spock blew the ship to pieces). The TMP uniforms are introduced already by the end of the five-year mission. Spock suffers a disabling injury, portrayed with realism, and not resolved immediately and easily with a magic pill. Also, this book gets pretty dark at times; Spock tries to kill himself not once, but twice... And a popular guest character from the series is also killed for real.

Some spoilers below the cut:

The Enterprise is in a routine mission, training cadets fresh from the Academy, when a massive explosion in the bridge leaves the primary hull destroyed, Kirk in critical condition, Spock with a splinter lodged near his spine, and many cadets dead. The primary hull has to be evacuated and separated, while the rest of the ship limps back to a starbase. In the following investigation, Starfleet declares that everything was a mere accident. But neither Spock nor Scotty are satisfied with this answer, since nothing on the bridge could cause an explosion of such magnitude. Therefore, they travel back to the jettisoned hull to find clues.

Spock is suspicious of some new yeoman, who entered and left the bridge shortly before the explosion. In her abandoned quarters they find two clues: a piece of paper with dots, which seems to be a star chart; and a ton of depilatory cream. However, Starfleet isn't convinced by this flimsy evidence. So Spock starts the first of a long series of reckless actions, and steals a small ship with Scotty, to travel to the star system depicted in the paper. Spock is in severe pain (and having suffered a similar injury in the past myself, I can testify: he IS in pain), but leaves nonetheless before undergoing the necessary surgery (I told you Spock is nuts in this novel). Meanwhile, Kirk's still recovering and has no clue of what's going on.

When Spock and Scotty arrive at the only habitable planet of the star map, they find out that a Romulan and Klingon ships have also been lured to that place by similar maps. Everything was a trap, and all of them are captured by the Tomariians, and brought to their home planet in an ancient rocket. The Tomariians are short, stocky and very hairy aliens, living in an extreme cold environment. Being poor and primitive, they've turned to scavenging, adapting the most disparate technologies to expand across their sector of the galaxy. Spock and the others meet the Tomariian leader, Ilsa. The one who disguised herself as a yeoman to plant the explosive in the Enterprise (hence all that depilatory cream). And she takes a liking to Spock, just as every other woman in this book.

The Tomariians plan to test their captives' strenght by sending them to different battlefields. This way they could determine the weaknesses of Federation members, Klingons and Romulans, in order to expand later through their territories. Spock's injury worsens, to the point that he's left immobile from waist down. But due to her attraction for him, Ilsa spares his life. Meanwhile, Kirk has found clues about Spock and Scotty's whereabouts, so finally, the Enterprise rescues them in the nick of time.

Back in the ship, Spock has to fulfill the promise he made to the Romulan woman captured with him: to warn the Empire of the Tomariian threat, should she not survive. After this, Spock has to face a court-martial for all his offenses: stealing a starship, and above all, establishing secret communications with the Romulan and Klingon empires. Charged with treason, he's sent to prison, where he meets and befriends the Romulan pirate Desus.

I won't spoil anything more (this is about halfway through the novel). Suffice to say that, after this, Spock gets involved in a prison break. He becomes a pirate by the name of "Black Fire", and gains a following of fangirls that write love poems about him (an amusing parody of real-world fandom). And finally defects to the Romulan Empire, creating massive drama with Kirk. Of course, there's a satisfactory explanation for Spock going amok, at the end.

Spirk Meter: 10/10*: Kirk and Spock are separated most of the time and have little physical contact, but the story truly reads as a break-up/reconciliation one. Specially with the introduction of Desus as a rival for Spock's affection. In the first chapter, Kirk is partially healed by a mind meld with Spock, and sighs his name upon waking up. Then Kirk anguishes over Spock's disappearance, and risks the entire ship to go rescue him (well... and Scotty). And there's a lot of commentary about how Kirk is Spock's only close relationship, and how his defection to the Romulans is a particularly painful blow for Kirk. The whole issue of Spock's treason has Kirk on edge and in a foul mood, to the point that other crewmembers are afraid of bringing the subject in his presence. As other books with a lot of spirk content, it's difficult to pinpoint single scenes, since it's a general theme all over the place. Add to this, Spock's absolute indiference towards all the women swooning around him.

Then there's, of course, Spock and Desus' extremely close friendship, said to rival that with Kirk. At one point, Desus reads aloud some of the love poems that Spock has inspired as "Black Fire". And one has to wonder if he isn't adressing the words to Spock himself.

McCoy doesn't appear much in the novel. But still gets some McKirk and Spones. In the beginning, he's devastated by Kirk's serious injuries and his inability to cure him, crying about the prospect of losing "the man he both admired and loved". Then, at the end, McCoy asks Spock to sign his book of love (and erotic) poems dedicated to him (!!!???), as an excited fangirl. "To belong to this man of fire, if only for a moment. - My flaming love." he reads aloud. And Spock even gives him his pirate earring as a gift. The novel closes with these lines: The black jewel gleamed its strange luminescence in McCoy's palm, but it was no match for the gleam in Spock's dark smiling eyes.

*A 10 in this scale is the most obvious spirk moments in TOS. Think of the back massage, "You make me believe in miracles", or "Amok Time" for example.

[l-in-the-light]

Hey 😊👋, I totally agree with your character analysis of Law. How do you think he would behave towards someone who is Traumatized too? Or maybe someone with a chronic disease? Would he offer not only medical but emotional support? Or would he hold back cause he's an emotional vrack himself?😊

Thanks for liking it! I was actually thinking about that possibility before myself as well. Because there's one person in One Piece we met at Egghead that is revealed to have suffered from sapphire scales disease and Kuma was even searching for Law at some point, hoping he could cure her. Isn't this a perfect opportunity to imagine what could have been if Kuma was more lucky?

I think Law and Bonney would understand each other like no one else could. They both had to deal with diseases other people feared and felt disgusted by, one got practically locked up in church, the other had his freedom restricted by Flevance's closed borders and a war. They also both ended up pretty lonely as a result.

Both were also saved by a loving person who made sure to give them affection and assure them touching is okay. It was Corazon in Law's case, even though it didn't prevent him from developing trauma. We don't see enough yet of Bonney to know if she also developed a trauma as the result, but I'm sure it would be less severe at the very least, Kuma made sure of that. But it's just to be expected that it also affected her in significant way, despite Kuma's best efforts (might explain Bonney's rude attitude towards strangers, both Law and Bonney share that, it's just difficult for them to open up to people they don't know). Bonney and Law both can be interpreted as people who tried to overturn their condition into something positive after it's visual signs are gone: Bonney with her jewel on her cheek, and Law with his tattoos. This time it's them who made the choice about how their skin looks like and what it stands for.

Still, understanding each other on such an outstanding level is different from being at ease interacting with each other. Law might be very caring towards Bonney (in his usual non-obvious way), but it won't change his personality 180 degrees, he's still gonna be annoyed at all the ruckus she might cause, after all. But since he knows how it's like to have a loud, busybody younger sister, I think he would find himself very nostalgic about all of that. I think it could even heal his soul a little. At first he would probably try to keep it professional (if he's her doctor), but he wouldn't be able to keep pretending it's just that forever. It just hits too close to home, after all. If Kuma disappeared one day like in canon, Law would definitely not leave Bonney alone to travel and search for him.

Imagine this attitude Bonney shows towards people who call her a monster. For Law seeing that would mean a lot. He would definitely defend Bonney as well.

Bonney on the other hand, is not used to having siblings, she never had any. That could create new experiences for her, allow her to create new bonds and find a new person besides her dad to rely on, and we know she also often felt pretty lonely. If Law's treatment would be enough to cure her, they could grow closer together, maybe Law would even go as far as share his own experience of having to live with amber lead syndrome. They have a huge age gap, but that could be a good thing too, Law could be the responsible older sibling he never got to be, since he lost his sister at a very young age. Maybe Bonney could also teach him how to have faith again, after all they both have ties to church and religion. But how would the two of them evolve with time? Would Bonney think of Law as her rolemodel? They sure do share some no-bullshitting rude vibes attitude, it would be really exciting to see where it goes from that point on.

Now to answer the first part of your question, I think we saw Law interacting with other traumatized people already! For example Robin. And we are shown a small tidbit of their interactions, especially in Wano when Law shares something he didn't share with anyone besides his own crew so far: his true name. I think he can easily relate to Robin (Ohara's incident wasn't exactly top secret) and they don't even have to talk about it to be on same wavelength. They even share same deadpan sense of humour:

Their trust can show in small gestures and hints of mutual understanding no one else but the two of them would pick up on. For example, whenever Law clams up Robin would be able to guess why (a nightmare, a flashback, she can pick up on smallest hints after all) and she would just offer him a timeout and quietly tell others not to bother him, because she also knows how irritable one can get after a triggering event. We can see evidence below that Robin can pick up on hints in Law's behaviour no one else truly can:

Or she would sent Luffy his way, because if there's one thing Robin truly believes in is that Luffy can fix it on emotional level. Law of course would be sure to return the favour back to Robin.

And then we have another person who is also traumatized and Law understands it without any need for words to be shared. It's Luffy. Luffy lost Ace and went through a breakdown, Law also knows how that feels like. He doesn't need to ask him about things, Luffy doesn't have to say anything at all, Law would just take one look and know. After all, their reactions to trauma are extremely similar, with them shutting off others and isolating themselves (Luffy after Usopp left the crew, and also when mourning Ace). If Luffy would have a nightmare and escape to Sunny's figurehead to be alone, Law would just stand guard silently so no one bothers him till he's fine. That's the level of understanding without words those two already share. It definitely also helps Law to heal old wounds if he can take care of Luffy just the same way he would take care of Lammy. After all, Luffy does seem to remind him of her:

To sum it up, I guess shared traumatic experience or chronic disease would make it easier, but it wouldn't change the fact Law would act coldish at the beginning anyway. It would help him grow fonder and relate to those people quicker (no longer considering them strangers he has nothing to do with, like Law did with Kid in Sabaody), but at the same time it won't make him into a different, suddenly open person. With enough time given his shell would finally crack though and once he's dedicated to people, he's dedicated to them for good. Still, don't expect him to suddenly be very open and overly affectionate in front of everyone, it's just not his type of personality. Even as a kid Law wasn't the overly expressionate type, in his flashback with Lammy he was mostly just smiling to himself thinking of her. He always shows how he cares in smaller gestures and is considerate in ways that aren't super obvious, but they're definitely always there.

I'm also really sorry for the late reply and I hope you enjoyed my answer/personal opinion. If not, please feel free to drop me another ask, I will try to do better next time :D Thank you for your question, I really enjoyed answering it <3

[magica-ren]

Old Habits Die Hard! [1]

Synopsis; In which Scaramouche takes what he’s gotten back for granted.

Warnings; None for now.

Word Count; 654

CRASH!

That’s the very last thing you probably remember hearing before you blacked out- Nothing else… Maybe you felt yourself stop in your tracks, maybe your felt a throbbing pain before blacking out- Perhaps you felt nothing at all. I wouldn’t know.

You wake up on a hospital bed, the bright artificial lights of the room seemingly blinding you- I sit by your side, gazing at your beautiful face. Oh how I miss looking at you… Can’t you see how beautiful you are to me? The way your gaze shifts at every moment, all those little expressions you make; It’s so adorable, I can’t help but wish to hug you oh so tightly. But I’d never admit it to you in your face- No, of course not!

You attempt to adjust your pretty eyes to the blaring iridescent lights, wincing in what seems to be pain, most likely from what had happened. Your blank gaze settles upon me, the guy sitting in a chair right beside you, and a nurse who bares witness to this life-changing moment.

I look at you with relief- Relieved that you’re awake, relieved that you’re alive. What a joyous moment this is; However, my expression remains calm as I request for the nurse to call over for a doctor- Talking about how you’re finally awake.

Unfortunately for me, that moment is short lived as I look down upon you, my shadow casted over your beautifully limp form.

“Who are you?”

Those words break me, how could you not remember who I am? You’re beloved Scaramouche? Is this a joke? Some kind of sick prank to pull? But that confused look on your face says otherwise… How could you not remember the man you’ve claimed to have an pure, unadulterated love for; The man you’ve made promises to share the rest of your life with-

How could you not remember me?

But alas, that’s okay! I’ll help you out! I am your only lover after all!

“I’m your lover, [Name].” I say, giving you a small smirk as I gently stroke your head. Tears prickle in my eyes, seemingly about to burst out. You look at me with furrowed eyebrows, analyzing and scanning me like some sort of machine.

“You’ve been gone for over a month, pet.” I begin to explain, “You’ve had quite the accident!” I chuckle sarcastically, which makes the whole thing seem as not as big of a deal it truly is.

You look at me in confusion, before asking, “Wha- Accident? I was in an accident-?” I watch you piece things together, and then look down at yourself, your right arm put into a cast. You attempt to move your body slightly, only to stop and wince in pain.

I nod in confirmation, “Mhm, a pretty shitty one if I do say so myself.” I cross my arms, staring at you with intent.

Just before you can ask about the accident a doctor comes in, checking in on you. I sigh in relief for a moment, which you didn’t seem to notice.

Then doctor then tells us that you have amnesia. You’re able to remember parts of your identity (for example, your name and age) and compute other basic functions, but you can’t seem to remember other people. Which is the case for me and Archon’s know how many others.

You were asked to try and dig deeper into your memory- Friends, family, animals, places- Anything really. But you come up empty handed explaining to the doctor that you can’t remember anything.

You’re out of it, really. It’s been a month or two since you’ve last stood up, so movement is hard. You tell me your body feels stiff, to which the doctor then replies that you’ll need to do a bit of physical therapy before being discharged from the hospital.

I suppose I’ll just have to visit you to and from for the time being then.

Notes: Reader becomes a bit more timid and shyer after amnesia, before that they were still a bit shy but less timid, more willing to stand up for themself. Reader is gender neutral.

Also, slightly based off Lolita (I know, crazy right?) by Vladimir Nabokov, and Restart by Gordon Kormen.

Originally pitched this idea to @r0ttenhearts (if you don’t mind me tagging you!)

THIS IS GOING TO BE A SERIES!!!