#captain jag

[catchcrows]

"What about the other Jedi spread across the galaxy?" "Their betrayal will be dealt with."

[totallycorrectjediorderquotes]

Comet: It's spooky season!

Jag: Every season is spooky season when you're haunted by your life decisions.

[barriss-and-coffee]

I know TCW gave a few of them one off episodes, but I've always found it disappointing how little attention the RotS commanders have gotten in both canon and legends, at least Cody got a spotlight episode in Bad Batch!

Did Commander Thire understand that Vader and Anakin were the same person since he found Vader on Mustafar? What about Appo when the chips made him and his brothers storm the Jedi Temple, and attempt to kill a Senator before gunning down a youngling? What was Jag's relationship to Plo, and Wolffe? What did Bly think in the aftermath of Order 66, where he and his brothers literally shot their general in the back? What are Baraca and Neyo's stories?

[short-wooloo]

LEGO 75402 ARC-170 Starfighter

[nchlsdmn]

Hello there! In Star Wars Revenge of The Sith, Jedi Master Plo Koon gets executed by Order 66, but how will Commander Wolffe and the 104th Clones react to this shocking revelation? Find out, now!

[bullet-prooflove]

I’ve got a request for Harm and Sav on their wedding night (your last Beau story got me thinking about Harm’s big day)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @keyweegirlie @buckysteveloki-me @sca3a @flopiboni

Companion piece to Chevy Corvette - Harm asks you for an answer regarding a very personal question.

There has never been anyone as beautiful as you, especially in white lace. Harm thinks that, the moment he sees you walking down the aisle towards him in an off the shoulder wedding dress. When he puts the silver wedding band on your finger, for the first time in his life he feels complete. It’s never been like this with another woman, they’ve never been able to make him feel the way that you do.

The day moves quickly, the ceremony, the photographs, the reception, it’s a constant stream of congratulations and merriment. Harm finds it exhausting, all he wants is a couple of moments alone with you but you’re constantly being stolen away and so is he.

It’s much later that you find yourselves in the Corvette overlooking the water, the moon shimmering as the waves lap against the dock. Harm’s stayed dry throughout the day, sipping from the champagne flute instead of drinking it. He wants to enjoy the time he spends with you tonight, to treasure it.

He’d intended to drive the two of you back to the hotel but he’d found himself here, at the spot where he’d got down on one knee and proposed to you properly. It’s the place you watch for his ship when you know it’s coming in. A unique scenic space tucked away from the rest of the world.

It’s there that you make love for the first time as man and wife, his fingers threading through your hair as you rock together in the darkness. There has never been a moment as perfect as this, the sensation of being with you underneath the stars. Your breath quickens and your body tightens and Harm, he can’t tear himself away because you are absolutely stunning. You take him with you when you climax, the ecstasy echoing through the night as he spills his release deep.

“Oh Mrs Rabb.” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

Love Harm? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[nikkeisimmer]

Kimber "Jugs" Benton

I still think that she's the prettiest sim, I've made so far.

...and she's in love with her CO and thanks to retiring from flying F-14s, she's happily able to go after him.

This...craggy old hunk of grouchy granite stone.

[celestiall0tus]

Tales of Bloody Bug and Chat Noir - Chapter 31 - Captain Hardrock

Beginning || Previous || Next

            Alix leaned back in her desk chair as she worked on her assignments. She glanced up at the time, mindful of it for when she needed to head to Jagged Stone’s concert tonight. She sighed and took deep breaths when her phone rang. She picked it up to a video call with Rose and Juleka. Both Rose and Juleka were decked out in Jagged Stone merch.

            “Well, this is a surprise. Heading to the concert tonight?” Alix asked.

            “Yup. We called to see if we all wanted to go together?” Rose asked.

            “We?” Alix echoed.

            “Yeah. Didn’t you get a ticket too?”

            “Uh, no.”

            “What? But you looked relieved when you and Adrien took your stockings. I thought for sure you got one.”

            “Yeah, sorry, but I didn’t.”

            “Oh! I’m so sorry. I should have asked instead of assuming. I-!” Rose started.

            “Rose, it’s all good. I don’t mind. Besides, it’s probably best that I don’t go. A Christmas party is one thing. A stadium full of smelly strangers is another.”

            “Hey, check out Luka,” Juleka interrupted.

            Alix tilted her head as Juleka turned the camera around to him. The tips of his hair were dyed a teal-ish blue and messed up akin to Jagged Stone’s hair. His usual black hoodie replaced with a blue zip-up with a jean jacket over it.

            Alix whistled. “Looking good, Luka.”

            Luka’s eyes widened as he blushed.

            “Make sure to get lots of pictures.”

            “Oh, you bet. There’s no way we aren’t. It’s a Jagged Stone concert after-,” Juleka started.

            Juleka and Luka’s mom, Anarka stormed into view. “What is this mutiny I hear? A Jagged Stone concert? None of my crew shall pay that wretch a visit. Do we have an accord, mates?”

            “Fuck! Run, Luka!” Juleka yelled.

            Alix raised a brow while Juleka’s screen blacked out and she heard muffled yells and breathing.

            “I hope they didn’t forget their tickets,” Alix remarked.

            “Oh, they’re good. Juleka knew something like this would happen, so they had me hold onto the tickets.”

            “So, what is the deal? Why does their mom not want them to see Jagged Stone’s concert? I thought she was the ‘do whatever you want’ type of mom.”

            “I’m not sure. As long as I’ve known, Anarka hates Jagged Stone with a fiery passion. I just don’t know why. You should have seen this one time when a Jagged Stone song came on the radio and Anarka threw the boombox into the Seine.”

            Alix grimaced. She pulled up her messages and warned Adrien of a potential Akuma that may come from Anarka if they see Juleka and Luka at the concert.

            “Well, I think you need to come to the rescue there, Rose, so I’ll let you go.”

            “Ok. I’ll be sure to get lots of pictures. Oh! And a souvenir. What size do you wear?”

            “You’re asking me that like we’re not the same size?”

            “Well, you are, uh, muscle-y? Uh, you know. You’re built, not like me.”

            “Right. See about an oversized shirt if you must. I’d rather have it to sleep in.”

            “You got it! Talk to after the concert.”

            Alix hung up and smiled. “Alright, Tikki, Ziggy, we have a concert to attend. Tikki, spots on.”

            Tikki disappeared into the earrings and transformed Alix into Bloody Bug. Bloody Bug headed out to the concert. She met up with Chat Noir, Gallic Chick, Porcelet, and Carapace atop the stadium.

            “What’s up, dudes? Who’s ready to rock n’ rule?” Carapace asked.

            “You three head down. We likely have an Akuma coming here shortly,” Bloody Bug instructed.

            “Then shouldn’t we all wait?” Porcelet asked.

            “Nah. I don’t expect this to take long. Besides, we don’t want to rise suspicion.”

            “How about this then. You go down and I’ll stay up here with Porcelet?” Chat Noir offered.

            “Are you sure?” Bloody Bug asked.

            “Yeah. I know the fans are just dying to see me, but they want to see their Bug more. Besides, I can handle this with Porcelet.”

            Porcelet gasped and beamed. “Really?”

            “Of course. We’re just as-.”

            Chat Noir was just off by cannon fire that hit the stadium. Screams erupted from the civilians in line. They looked out on the horizon as a flying ship approached with Anarka dressed up like a pirate captain. Bloody Bug snorted and took out her yo-yo.

            “Looks like she’s here sooner than expected. How about we start the pre-show here?”

            Bloody Bug and Chat Noir leapt from the stadium to the ship’s deck, followed by Carapace, Gallic Chick, and Porcelet.

            “Seize them!” Captain Hardrock commanded.

            Chains shot out to capture the heroes but were deflected as Carapace put a shield around them.

            Captain Hardrock laughed. “You aren’t going anywhere now, heroes. Trapped by your own doings.”

            “That’s where you’re utterly wrong. Allow me, Bloody Bug,” Gallic Chick said.

            Gallic Chick used Sublimation and used the power of chaos to create a field around herself. Captain Hardrock ordered the ship to seize them, but the chains that entered the field froze midair.

            “Woah! How did you think of this one?” Chat Noir asked.

            “Porcelet showed me some crazy villain that could use chaos to do things like this. Seemed useful enough,” Gallic Chick answered.

            “What are we waiting for? Take the ship! Throw the captain overboard!” Bloody Bug yelled.

            Carapace dismissed his shield as they followed Gallic Chick up to the helm. Bloody Bug used her Lucky Charm to create a pirate cutlass as she took on Captain Hardrock with Chat Noir. They dueled the captain while Porcelet, Gallic Chick, and Carapace destroyed parts of the ship in search of the Akuma. Gallic Chick destroyed the compass and released the Akuma. Bloody Bug glanced over, then kicked Captain Hardrock into the ship.

            “Cat, take the captain overboard! This ship’s about to go down.”

            Chat Noir grabbed Captain Hardrock and jumped off the ship. Gallic Chick, Porcelet, and Carapace followed suit. Bloody Bug caught the Akuma before she jumped. She purified and released the Akuma before she used her Miraculous power, relocating Liberty back to the Seine. They landed outside the main entrance of the stadium. Everyone cheered for them while Bloody Bug and Chat Noir spoke with Anarka.

            “What happened? How did I get here?” Anarka asked.

            “You were akumatized. Probably the most fun we’ve had with an Akuma yet,” Bloody Bug commented.

            “Why were you akumatized?” Chat Noir asked.

            “Because my sweet little scallywags ran off to see that horrible Jagged Stone’s concert. And they know we’re not to speak or think about him under my roof.”

            “But why? What do you have against Jagged Stone?” Bloody Bug asked.

            “It’s… it’s a long tale, lass. But I cannot let Jagged see them. I cannot let them near him. Please, you have to get them out.”

            “Tell ya what, captain. Give us the names and what they looked like, and we’ll keep them busy. After all, it’s not just Jagged Stone they’d be meeting tonight, but all their heroes,” Bloody Bug offered.

            Anarka grumbled, then sighed. “Alright, lass. Their names be Luka and Juleka Couffaine. Juleka will look like me with her sweet round face, raven black hair with dyed purple tips, and with her grandmother’s piercing amber eyes. Luka… Luka won’t look like Juleka or me. His face is more angular, serene blue eyes, and raven black hair with blue dyed tips.”

            “Got it. We’ll find them and keep them from Jagged. You have my word, captain.”

            “Thank you, lass.”

            Bloody Bug nodded and headed off. She, Gallic Chick, and Carapace disappeared to recharge their kwamis while Chat Noir and Porcelet headed inside. Bloody Bug, Gallic Chick, and Carapace regrouped and slipped in backstage, meeting up with Jagged Stone, Chat Noir, and Procelet.

            “There she is! Bloody Bug! Welcome to the concert of the century by yours truly. You ready to rock n’ roll?” Jagged Stone asked.

            “Ready as I can be. Let’s rock Paris to its core.”

            Jagged Stone whooped and hollered as everyone got into position. Bloody Bug looked out at the crowd from the rafters with the others. She looked down at the VIP section, recognizing Rose, Juleka, Luka, Alya, Lila, and Marinette. She tilted her head seeing Alya standing away from Marinette. She wondered if what happened at the Louvre had caused a rift between them.

            Bloody Bug was pulled from her thoughts as the concert began. She jumped down with her team as the first song started. The crowd roared with cheers and praises as their heroes took the stage. Chat Noir smiled and nudged her, motioning to the audience. She smiled as she threw her yo-yo onto the rafters and swung around the concert. She high fived the concert goers, did aerial tricks, and landed in the crowd randomly.

            Bloody Bug soaked in the praise and admiration from everyone. She enjoyed the rush and pure, unfiltered joy it filled her with. She took to the air again when a shadow backstage caught her eye. She pulled herself to the ceiling and stared at it. She struggled to focus on it when glowing, fuchsia dots lined the blue shadow. She tilted her head as a fan unfurled with the same fuchsia dots along it, staring back at her like a million eyes. She closed her eyes and shook her head, then opened them again, but the shadow and the fuchsia eyes were gone.

            “Bug. What’s wrong?” Chat Noir yelled.

            Bloody Bug glanced over to see Chat Noir beside her with his claws dug into the ceiling. She hummed as she glanced back at where the shadow once stood. She looked around to find an explanation, but nothing could explain away what she saw.

            “Bug?” Chat Noir asked.

            “I saw something. I don’t know what it was, but it felt… unsettling. Like it was watching me.”

            “What do I look out for?”

            “Look for shadows moving. If you see any hint of blue or fuchsia, get me immediately and we’ll pursue it together.”

            Chat Noir nodded and fell back to the crowd. Bloody Bug took a breath before she joined him. They continued the theatrics for the rest of the concert while they kept an eye out for the mysterious shadow. The shadow didn’t make a reappearance even as the concert came to a close. Bloody Bug furrowed her brows in though when Chat Noir nudged her.

            “You ok?”

            “No. I saw something, and that something never showed back up.”

            “What are you thinking?”

            “Step lightly moving forward. Who or whatever that was meant for that encounter. That, I’m sure.”

            “Will do. For now, we have a meet and greet to attend to.”

            Bloody Bug sighed and followed Chat Noir backstage where Jagged Stone, their team, and the VIP ticket winners waited for them. She took a deep breath and forced a smile as she was separated from her team. She was pushed onto a seat next to Jagged Stone as people swarmed them.

            “Bloody Bug! I’m Alya Cesaire. I was hoping now you would answer some questions for the Ladyblog.”

            “Uh, sure?”

            Alya beamed. “Tell me, had you and Chat Noir met prior to your first meeting with Stoneheart?”

            “Uh, no. Not at all.”

            “What about the others? Gallic Chick? Porcelet? Carapace?”

            “Sorta? I knew of them. I guess.”

            “And what made you put together a team?”

            “It was a decision made by Chat Noir and I. We were just two people, and we can’t be everywhere all at once. It made sense to put together a team of people we trust.”

            “Was this idea pushed further along with incidents like, I don’t know, when Volpina and Heart’s Design kidnapped Adrien Agreste?”

            Bloody Bug stiffened. She glanced around the room. First at Marinette, who flinched and retreated to the back. Second to Lila, who tensed up and stared at Bloody Bug with wide eyes. Lastly to Chat Noir, whose attention turned fully to her and Alya.

            “It was one of many instances.”

            “And, if I may be so bold, what happened exactly that day? Why did the villains steal Adrien Agreste? Did they do anything to him?”

            Bloody Bug narrowed her eyes. “Something happened, yes. However, I will not share private information like that if it is within my power. If you want information like that, you’ll need to convince the victim to share the accounts of what happened. And with that, this charade ends.”

            “No need for it to continue. I have everything I need,” Alya said as she shot a glare at Marinette.

            “Well, that’s weird. Anyway, who’s next?” Jagged Stone asked.

            A few concert goers approached Jagged Stone while Rose, Luka, and Juleka approached Bloody Bug. Rose squealed and tackled Bloody Bug.

            “It’s so good to see you again, Bloody Bug! And under better circumstances too!”

            Bloody Bug grimaced and patted Rose’s head. “Yes, very, but off. I’m not the hugging type. You want that, go tackle Porcelet or Cat. Maybe if you’re lucky, you can get the cat to purr.”

            Rose’s eyes widened. “Chat Noir can purr? Seriously?”

            “Go find out.”

            Rose gasped and tackled Chat Noir. Juleka flinched and rushed after Rose. Bloody Bug snickered as Luka stepped up.

            “Uh, Bloody Bug? Do you… do you remember me?”

            “Your face is familiar. Would you be that kid that was Silencer? Luka?”

            Luka ducked his head down, took a breath, then raised it high and nodded.

            “I thought that was you. You did something different with your hair since then, haven’t you?”

            “Oh, yeah. Just today, actually. It was Jules idea. I don’t know if I’ll keep it yet.”

            “I hope you do. It looks good on you. Suits you both.”

            Luka blushed as he ruffled his hair. “Oh! Uh, thanks. And, well, thank you for everything else.”

            “What everything else?”

            “It’s… a little embarrassing, but you’ve inspired me. After that whole incident and that talk, I’ve done my best to be more like you.”

            “Like me?”

            “Yeah! You’re so strong and fierce, but even you have your own demons to fight. Despite them, you still hold your head high and live to the fullest. At least, from what we’ve all seen. It’s very… inspiring. You’re inspiring.”

            Bloody Bug smiled and messed up Luka’s hair. “Just be the best you that you can be and don’t forget to live for the here and now. If we get stuck in the past, we can’t live for the here and we certainly can’t see our future.”

            “I’ll keep doing my best.”

            “Good. Now go sit with your sister and the cat.”

            “What? But I was hoping to speak with Jagged.”

            “Yeah, well, your mother was akumatized because you two came here. And I made a promise that you two wouldn’t meet with Jagged to keep the peace.”

            “But-!” Luka started.

            “Ah, let them have this. I can handle any woman,” Jagged Stone boasted.

            Bloody Bug rolled her eyes. “Sure, you can, but I’m not about to have Anarka-.”

            Jagged Stone squeaked, jumped out of his seat, and cowered. “Anarka? She’s here? In Paris?”

            “Uh, yeah? She’s our mom,” Juleka commented.

            “Hold up. You and the boy here, your mother is Anarka? Anarka Couffaine?”

            Juleka nodded.

            Jagged Stone pursed his lips. He looked up as he counted on his fingers and went over different thoughts in his head.

            “You ok, Jagged?” Porcelet asked.

            “Huh? Oh, yeah. Uh, girl, I have one last question for you.”

            “I’m waiting.”

            “Would you and that boy’s birthday be roughly, what was it now, early March? Where you’ll be fifteen, yeah?”

            “Uh, yeah. How’d you-?”

            “Marvelous. Alright, back to the groupies!”

            Bloody Bug raised a brow as Jagged Stone returned to the other fans. She looked away as she remembered Anarka’s hatred for Jagged Stone, Jagged Stone knowing Luka and Juleka birthdays and age, and, looking at the two of them and from what Anarka said, seeing an eerie resemblance between Luka and Jagged. Her eyes widened as everything clicked.

            “Oh. That makes so much sense,” Bloody Bug muttered.

            “Bloody Bug?” Lila said.

            Bloody Bug broke from her thoughts and looked at Lila. “Yes?”

            “You wouldn’t mind if I get some pictures with my best friend, would you?”

            Bloody Bug rolled her eyes. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

            Lila beamed as she pulled Bloody Bug close for pictures. Bloody Bug moved through the motions until Lila kissed her cheek. Bloody Bug’s eyes widened as Lila stepped away.

            “Thank you, Bugaboo.”

            Bloody Bug furrowed her brow as unease brewed in her. Something would come of this.

            “Uh, Bloody Bug? I have a question for you,” Marinette said.

            “Alright. Out with it.”

            Marinette pulled out a folded note and handed it to Bloody Bug. Bloody Bug took and read the contents. She raised a brow as she read that Marinette wanted to talk with her, alone, in a few nights time. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.

            “Fine.”

            Marinette gasped and hugged Bloody Bug. “Thank you.”

            Bloody Bug grimaced as she patted Marinette’s head. “Now, go.”

            Marinette nodded and moved to speak with Jagged Stone.

            Bloody Bug sighed and looked at the time. She whined seeing she had another hour of the meet and greet. She shut off her brain and moved on autopilot through the rest of the night. She said her good-byes once they were finished and headed home. She de-transformed and collapsed onto her bed.

            “I don’t ever want to do something like that again,” Alix groaned.

            “Well, hopefully you won’t have to,” Tikki reassured.

            “Fingers crossed, but I have to ask. Did you see what I did? That shadow?”

            Tikki nodded.

            “What was that?”

            “I’m not sure, but I have a feeling it might have been the peacock.”

            Alix gasped. “The peacock? What was it doing there? What did it want? Who has it?”

            Tikki shrugged. “It went missing with the butterfly brooch, so we don’t know. I know Master has been looking for it. And apparently Adrien’s cousin.”

            “Well, someone has it, and they can’t be up to anything good to be lurking in shadows.”

            “I agree. You both should be careful,” Ziggy butted in.

            Alix nodded. “We will, but we’ll have to also see what their true intentions are.”

            “Oh, what do you think they are?” Ziggy asked.

            “I’m not sure, but only time will tell now.”

Patreon || Discord || Ko-Fi

[tortoisesshells]

Fair Winds and Following Seas

I think this has to be a fic about Our Heroes (1899 edition) leaving the simulation and the Kerberos behind after the end of - well, of the plot. It wasn't a pleasant experience for any of them, but it's hard to say goodbye to any kind of home, because the line between who you are and what's your home can be terribly thin, can't it? even if who you are (in the context of 1899 as a simulation) was some kind of an external imposition? The Kerberos was real to them, for a time & for good and ill, but it's finally gone, and that's not a painless realization.

[kamaluhkhan]

IS IT CASUAL NOW?

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 14.6k summary: you and vi are both tired of complicated relationships so try the whole friends-with-benefits thing....and maybe forget the whole point of your arrangement in the first place. warning: lesbian situationships (there is so much angst and yearning), brief mention of (internalized) homophobia and struggles with addiction....but mostly cheesy domestic fluff and smut [oral (vi receiving), fingering (both receiving), thigh riding, slight bondage play, switch!vi has my heart] (18+) ! a/n: merry (belated oops) xmas girls and gays <33 i've probably spent way too much time on this but it's my BABY....kinda based on leighton and alicia's plotline in s1 of sex lives of college girls and ofc casual by chappell roan (there are many other chappell references throughout too hehe). also yes i made a mini playlist that consists of the songs that i think reflect this fic's sun, moon, and rising signs....pls enjoy and happy holidays !!!

♪: "angel baby" by troye sivan (sun); "pretty girl" by hayley kiyoko (moon); "casual" by chappell roan (rising)

“not even one week into the new academic year, violet rose atlas, captain of the varsity soccer team, has been suspended from gameplay due to recent unsportsman-like behavior, sentenced to 100 hours of community service, and banned from the local lesbian bar.” 

mel removes her eyes from the screen to raise an eyebrow at you. you just shrug and take a sip of your coffee. you glance over at the clock on the wall. 

11:09am. 

“to top it all off, she’s late,” you declare, trying your best to hide the anticipation simmering in your stomach.

“what’s your deal, anyways? you totally flirt with her whenever she’s at the bar. not even we get that good of service,” gert points out. they’re searching through a stack of cd’s and cassette tapes for something to play. 

“that was before.” 

you walk over to sit next to gert, taking it upon yourself to choose the music. you settle on jagged little pill; alanis morrissette’s lush voice is a welcomed addition to your conversation.

“our funding is at risk,” you explain. “it’s like the dean assigned her to us because she knew it would end terribly and the board would have an excuse to finally cut us loose.” 

“if they need an excuse, they’ll find one,” gert grumbles.

you shrug. “i just think violet is bad news, which is something i’d prefer we avoid..”

“the article does say that she punched maddie nolan in the face during an exhibition game against the piltover knights.”

“see? bad news. literally.”

“well, i think we lucked out,” sky gushes, though her focus remains on finishing her current project. she’s crocheting so fast that you only catch glimpses of her sparkly pink fingernails. you’re sure she’ll be done with this blanket before violet shows up. if she even bothers to show up. “the yellowjackets might’ve lost their captain, but we get to spend quality time with the hottest butch on campus.”

“whatever,” you sigh, though you don’t disagree with that description. you check the clock again — 11:11am — and settle against the worn couch. “since we have the time — mel, why don’t you read our horoscopes? i’m itching to see what the universe has in store for us today.” 

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi spent the better part of last night crying and getting wasted in her bathtub with cheap dye burning into her scalp. 

she just couldn’t stand the memory of caitlyn kiramman’s perfectly manicured nails running through her formerly pink locks as they kissed, tugging on vi’s hair to bring her closer —

enough. fucking pull yourself together. 

cait’s moved on, that much is clear, with someone more like her. someone whose last name is on buildings all around the university of piltover’s campus.

so far, no amount of bar fights or red cards or late nights in some random girl’s bed seem to mend the heart that caitlyn shattered to pieces, but vi doesn’t give up easy.

soon enough, she’ll be back on the field, leading the yellowjackets to victory at nationals; she’ll finish all her classes, graduate with honors and have a great plan for an even greater future; all while having amazing, mind-blowing sex that won’t lead to serious heartbreak.

relationships are overrated, anyways. 

the first step in this plan: spending 100 hours with a bunch of angry, bra-burning lesbians.

maybe vi will fit right in.

so, vi walks into her community service assignment with a wicked migraine and hands that look like lady macbeth plotted to murder an oil spill, but with her usual confident swagger nonetheless, as conversation echoes down the hallway.

“according to your rising, there will be a much needed spark in your romantic life. my guess is a fire sign is gonna sweep you off your feet.”

another voice chimes in, a gentle rumble. “could that be your sweet jules?” 

“i’ve never asked about her chart,” an achingly familiar voice replies. it brings back memories of dizzying lights and strong whiskey coursing through her blood, but something else, too. a sky full of stars and too-sweet alcohol on her tongue. “paula was a fire sign, though, and that blew up in my face.”

“paula was a walking red flag.”

“yeah, well, apparently red’s my favorite color.”

“maybe that was just the heartbreak you needed to bring passion back into your life. do you feel that with jules?”

“i don’t know — maybe? we haven’t had sex yet.” 

“passion isn’t just about sex, you know —”

“gert, i love you, but i cannot handle a sex therapy session right now.”

someone else giggles, bright and bubbly. “hm, i wonder what sign our pink-haired hottie is.” 

vi clears her throat to announce her arrival, leaning against the doorway.

everyone turns to look at her then, with varying degrees of shock, and vi feels like she’s just walked into an after midnight roommate vent session.

she isn’t sure what she expected the space to look like, but zaun university’s women’s centre is well-lived in, defined by a sort of organized chaos. each wall is covered in posters and collages, multicolored flags and fairy lights; there’s a shelf in the corner with assorted trinkets and books piled high, a table next to it with baskets of condoms, pads, and tampons and informational pamphlets, and a door in the opposite corner, slightly ajar. a vintage boombox placed on the coffee table plays 90s alt rock, circled by mismatched seating with patterned blankets and brightly colored pillows strewn about.

someone with dark lipstick and an eyebrow piercing is drawing on their converse; a dark brunette wearing glasses is draping a blanket over the arm of a couch; another person is scrolling on their laptop, a gold necklace glittering on their collarbones. 

vi’s attention is stuck on you, though, the origin of the aforementioned familiar voice: the very hot bartender from sappho’s, where vi happened to be kicked out of not even 72 hours prior. 

you’re wearing a vintage wonder woman t-shirt tucked into faded blue jeans with a carabiner clipped to a belt loop. the sleeves of your shirt are rolled up, displaying your array of tattoos — vi’s already decided that her favorites are joan of arc holding her sword, a pomegranate that’s been cracked open, and lyrics from bikini kill’s ‘rebel girl’ (which admittedly, vi had to look up when she first saw). it’s everything vi’s booze-soaked brain had apparently memorized after many nights of staring at you across the bar counter, licking up whatever honeyed flirtations you’d spill from your lips. vi always noticed your hands, too: the many rings you’ve stacked on your fingers, the lavender sprig sprouting from your middle finger and venus symbol etched onto your wrist, the nails that are always clipped short and painted black. 

one of those nails is tapping anxiously on your coffee mug, which has a picture of hayley kiyoko as lesbian jesus.

“pink-haired hottie, reporting for duty. though, i might need a new nickname.” vi grins; you roll your eyes. “i’m an aries, by the way.”

“good to know.” the brunette winks not-so-subtly in your direction before walking towards vi and extending a hand, gold bangles clinking together at the motion. “i’m sky, she/her. we had electromagnetic theory together last spring. it’s lovely to officially meet you.”

vi makes a big show of leaning down and kissing sky’s hand.

“nice to meet you, too, sweetheart.”

“such a gentleman,” sky giggles and leads vi to the patchwork couch. she curls up like a cat, and vi follows suit — the couch is cloud soft, and vi tries not to sink into the cushions. “i’m our supplies and communications coordinator.” she turns away from vi to look around the room. “okay, that’s my intro. who’s next?”

the person with an eyebrow piercing nods at vi, a sort of effortless greeting. “gert, they/them.” they snap the sharpie shut after writing ‘the future is intersectional’ on the tip of their toe. “i curate and design our newsletter, the black rose. i’m also in a band —”

“the sirens of zaun. yeah, i recognize you. you’ve played a few gigs at sappho’s.” 

vi looks at you pointedly, and you take this as your cue to disappear behind the door, which appears to lead into some sort of office.

gert seems pleased, though. “then you might also recognize our lead singer….”

the person with the gold necklace, who vi does, in fact, vaguely recognize but can’t quite name, closes their laptop and waves at vi. “i’m mel. pronouns: she/her. i mostly deal with the finances around here. and, from what i understand, you’re already well acquainted with our fearless leader —”

mel is cut off by the sound of her phone alarm. 

“shit — it’s already 11:30. our set at campus radio starts soon.” mel gestures at gert. gert picks up the bright red guitar case behind them and secures it around their shoulder as mel packs up her leather satchel. 

“damn, i gotta get to class, too. the space-time continuum waits for no one.” sky gets up and gathers her things, too, stuffing yarn into a fruit-printed tote bag. “it was nice meeting you though.” she pats vi’s head affectionately before throwing out a loud: “see ya later, boss!”

mel and gert offer similar farewells, and you shout goodbye from the other room before the three of them are out the door. vi expects you to reappear a few moments later; when you don’t, she ventures into the office.

it’s smaller, but just as decorated as the lounge space. there’s a desk that seems to be more storage than actual use, littered with piles of books and old copies of the black rose. you’re sitting on a fluffy rainbow carpet that looks like every member of sesame street stitched together, writing something in a sticker-covered notebook. 

“so, violet —”

“vi’s fine,” she tells you. she decides to sit on the floor next to you rather than the zebra striped chaise lounge.

you nod, rip a page out of your notebook, and hand it to vi. there’s something a bit too intimate about knowing what your handwriting looks like before even knowing your name. 

“this is a run down of everything you’ll need to know, but real quick: we do feminist film fridays and trivia tuesdays on alternating weeks; our radical reads book club meets once a month, along with our slam poetry group, and we have a bunch of other events in between — workshops, art builds, discussion groups, and so on. sky keeps everything in the centre stocked, and occasionally the rest of us will pitch in when organizing a charity drive. our newsletter publishes the third wednesday of every month — gert puts it together, but we print in pairs since it could be a lot of work for one person. we have team meetings once a week to share updates, make sure we’re all on the same page, stuff like that. any questions?” 

“wow, okay. that’s a lot.”

you smile. “i’m sure you’ll be able to keep up, varsity.” 

“so….where do i fit in?” 

“that depends on you, really,” you tap your glitter gel pen on your notebook, thinking. “like, i’m assuming you’re not well versed in feminist literature.”

vi puffs out her chest. “based on what assumptions? i’m not a dumb jock.”

“yeah, i know you’ve made the dean list ever since your freshman year.” 

vi raises an eyebrow. “keeping tabs on me, wonder woman?” she teases. 

you laugh. “don’t flatter yourself. sky’s the one who mentioned it to me. so, unless you mean your very large, unpaid tab at sappho’s...”

“the bar i was kicked out of, you mean.”

“well, yeah, because you —” you take a deep breath. “not the point. anyways, we don’t have a complete schedule for book club, so you can maybe take the lead on one of our meetings. do you have a favorite author?” 

vi smiles at you sheepishly. “ah…..you got me there.”

“thought so,” you smirk and vi covers her blush. “if you’re curious, this bridge called my back is a good place to start. oh, and audre lorde is a classic and a personal favorite…..” you pause when you catch vi staring at you. she wants you to keep talking, to appreciate the way your eyes light up so enthusiastically, but you blink away, and a veil of professionalism falls back onto you. “sorry. anyways, we’re having trivia tomorrow — would you be able to help us out with that?

vi nods. “sure.”

“sweet.” you check your phone. “i’ve got a coffee date, so i should get going.”

“wait — you never told me your name, wonder woman.”

“well, it’s not diana prince,” you quip before finally introducing yourself. 

“nice to finally put a name to the face.” vi winks at you, standing up. she extends a hand to guide you up. your hand is cold against her skin, your metal rings even colder.

“i’ll see you around, varsity.” before you’re out the door, you turn back around. “oh, and vi?”

“yeah?”

“don’t be late.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

you had stepped away for a quick smoke break — a habit you knew you had to kick — but you’re so fucking drained and it’s only wednesday. 

you were up all night bickering with your girlfriend. it started with her admitting that she really doesn’t want to meet your friends, which transitioned into her asking you to not talk to anyone about her or your relationship, which prompted you to make a (maybe slightly insensitive) comment about how she’s welcome to stay in the closet but has no right to push you back in. 

needless to say, you did not get any sleep.

you’re about to walk outside, and finally get a moment of peace, when your phone rings. it’s your sibling, and the fact that they’re calling instead of texting tells you that this conversation is about to be (A) exhausting, (B) infuriating, or (C) both.

the correct answer is C.

it’s the same story over and over again: your dad drinks too much, your mom is absent. it hadn’t been this bad when you were growing up, but you suppose you’d been around to ease the damage, or at least step in and take care of your sibling as needed. 

“just — take a deep breath. you can come stay with me for the weekend, okay? it’ll be good for you to get away from the chaos for a bit….we’ll go apple picking if the weather’s nice, maybe start working on your halloween costume — whatever you wanna do.”

“you know, i’m not five anymore,” they mumble, stifling a small laugh along with some tears. “but…okay. that sounds nice.”

you smile to yourself, shoulder pressing against the door. “it’s a plan then. we’ll sort out the details later. and, don’t worry about mom and dad — i’ll take care of it. love you.” 

you hang up and exhale as you finally push the door open, happy to finally get one moment to breathe.

except, just as you’re greeted by a crisp breeze on this beautiful late september evening, you’re also greeted by the sight of vi pressing someone against the brick wall, their legs wrapped around her waist as she kisses their neck.

something ignites in your abdomen, familiar after many nights of seeing vi at the bar, charming her way into another woman’s bed. except, it’s definitely not jealousy, this time.

(okay, maybe it is; but only a bit.)

they spring apart upon hearing the door slam closed. you recognize who vi’s with — maya, a sophomore who’s frequently attended women’s centre events since last year. she’s always been friendly with the team, but never this friendly.

“oh my gosh, i am so sorry!”

“you don’t have to apologize,” you tell her sincerely. her cheeks are flushed, and she’s busy smoothing down her skirt, clearly trying to distance herself from vi, who’s leaning against the wall nonchalantly. “i just need to talk to violet, so do you mind giving us a sec?”

you wait until maya disappears inside to cross your arms and glare at vi.

“so, it’s violet now, huh?” she teases, wiping red lipstick off her smirk.

“you were supposed to be helping facilitate this workshop,” you note. 

“well, it is a queer sex ed workshop.” vi rolls her eyes. “i was giving maya a hands-on experience.”

you grit your teeth together. “and you just had to do that now? like you just had to go down on that third year during trivia last week?”

“well, see, i don’t have a ton of free time, and since i’m not allowed at the local lesbian bar….” she trails off, looking at you pointedly. “i’ve had to resort to multi-tasking.”

“multi-tasking.” you let an exhausted, bitter laugh slip from your lips. “you’ve showed up late to every single event in the past few weeks, and once you’re there, you’re either on your laptop, getting drunk, or hooking up with someone. tell me, violet, as captain of the yellowjackets — if someone on your team was acting like this, what would you do?”

vi narrows her eyes at you, like she can’t believe what you’re asking, and admits, “i’d call them out, tell them to do better.”

“right. and if they kept giving you empty promise after empty promise? you’d have to do something more drastic, even if you didn’t want to, yeah?”

no response.

shaking your head, you take out a cigarette. there’s only silence when you flick the lighter open and light it between your lips. you inhale deeply, letting the smoke enter your lungs, exhale slowly, and decide: “i’m gonna ask the dean to reassign you.”

“fine by me,” vi scoffs, but you swear that something close to disappointment flashes across her face. “clearly, this isn’t working out.”

“clearly.” you take another drag of your cigarette, and as vi walks back inside, you can’t help but try to get under her skin. you’ve had a bad week, between family drama and turbulence in your relationship with jules, and you’re just sick of people not giving a shit. “the year’s already started, so i doubt there’s something available. which means you’ll remain on academic probation until spring.”

and, okay — you do get some twisted satisfaction in how that makes vi stop in her tracks. you’re leaning against the wall, and she strides over to stand in front of you, her jaw and fists clenched.

“i’ll miss the whole tournament.”

you shrug, and blow smoke in her face. “i’ve given you plenty of chances.”

“but the team needs me —”

“you should have thought of that before you fucked up, varsity,” you snap. vi’s eyes widen; you’re usually more level-headed. “you’re cocky, irresponsible  — ”

“i lost my scholarship,” vi blurts out, prompting you to pause, the cigarette millimeters from your lips. 

you blink at her, blood still roaring in your ears.

“i…don’t know why that’s relevant.”

vi just sighs, so deeply that you feel it in your bones. you haven’t seen this side of her before — no flirtatious smile, no overconfident posture. instead, she slips to the ground, knees pressed to her chest. feeling a bit guilty for pushing her buttons, you slide down next to her. you offer her the cigarette, but she shakes her head.

“i…i’m going through a shitty breakup. i’ve been lashing out, and i lost my scholarship. i haven’t asked my parents for money, because the last thing i want is for them to worry about me. so, i started picking up these odd jobs to make ends meet, and the hours are a bit crazy so between school and practice and — fuck, there’s also shit going on with my sister that i won’t even get into now, but it’s a lot — and i also need to do this because i let my team down and i need to be there for them, whatever it takes, and i’m just so fucking —”

“exhausted, yeah.” 

you can see more clearly now — the slump in her shoulders, the shadows underneath her eyes; you see her more clearly. you realize that you might have more in common with violet rose atlas than you initially thought.

“so the laptop —”

“finishing assignments.”

“the drinking?”

vi juts her chin out at your smouldering cigarette. “we all have our vices.”

“and the sex?”

her lips curl into a sheepish grin, and she shrugs. “we all need to relieve stress.”

you clear your throat, blinking away from her gaze and trying to ignore how you can feel warmth radiating from her body, so close to yours. “right.”

vi runs her hand through her tar-black hair. that should have been your first hint — nothing says lesbian breakup more than terribly dyed hair and questionable decisions. 

“look, i know i can’t do everything, but i have to, and i’m still trying to figure out how.”

“well….as far as excuses go, it’s not the worst,” you admit. “thanks for telling me. i know that couldn’t have been easy.” you take a deep breath and get to your feet. “i stand by what i said earlier, though — this isn’t working out. you just can’t tell us that you’ll be helpful and not follow through. it means a lot, to a lot of people, that there’s a space like this on campus. mel, gert, sky— they all work so hard to make that happen, and that’s something i need to protect. i’m sorry.”

“wait.” vi grabs your wrist before you can leave. “i’m sorry. really, i am. i promise to do better.”

“you’ve made that promise before,” you point out. “why should i believe this time will be different?”

“because…you’re right. i’ve been too caught up in myself, in what i need, in what my team needs. i can see that you really care about your team, though, and i should have respected that. they’re — you’re — amazing, everything that you do to make people feel safe and heard and loved. i’m sorry for taking that for granted.”

wow. okay. 

you did not expect that. you’re hoping that vi can’t feel your pulse quicken at her words, but you’re glad that she’s holding on to you, keeping you steady.

“yeah, well…flattery’s not gonna get you far.” you clear your throat. “but, you’re obviously going through a lot right now, and it can drive you crazy, feeling like you’re the one who —”

“has to keep everything together,” vi finishes, sliding to the ground once more. you follow. “seems like i’m cracking under pressure, this time. fucking everything up.”

“you’ve got a reckless streak.”

“must be the aries in me,” she laughs, softly. “apparently it’s my Ieast attractive quality. along with my stubbornness and selfishness.”

“well, i don’t think that’s the whole picture,” you assure her. vi looks at you incredulously. “i won’t lie and say that your actions aren’t….thoughtless sometimes. you’re more self-centred than selfish—”

“hey!” 

“but you obviously feel some sense of responsibility, for your team, your family, for what you think is right. hell — the reason my boss asked me to kick you out is because you started a bar fight with that frat boy who was insisting he had the right dick to set lesbians straight.”

vi scoffs. “asshole.”

“i was about to throw him out, but you beat me to the punch. literally.” you nudge your shoulder against vi’s, and she chuckles. “and, yeah, you’re stubborn, which can be annoying, but it also means that you’d never give up, that you’re willing to keep trying despite the odds, so….” 

“so….?”

vi’s looking at you with the widest, softest eyes. fuck, you never expected her to be this gentle, so much so that it you want to melt to her every need. 

“i’m hoping third time’s the charm, varsity.”

vi smiles, the most sincere one she’s probably ever given you, and the scar on her lip stretches; for all your talk about responsibility, there’s a part of you who’d risk pushing your already tenuous relationship with your girlfriend to its breaking point just so you could kiss vi, guilt-free, just once. maybe you have a bit of a reckless streak, too.

“thanks, wonder woman. you won’t regret it.”

yeah. you kind of already do.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi would never admit it, but one reason she fought to keep her community service assignment here is because she wanted to keep seeing you. 

she likes getting under your skin, seeing those pretty eyes roll whenever she strides in late for a meeting, that kissable jaw clench any time you catch her tangled up with someone else. 

it almost makes up for all those nights at sappho’s you’d spent flirting back and forth, some sort of unspoken agreement between you to never go further.

sometimes, it’s just nice to have a crush in your back pocket, to know that they’ll always be there to admire and admire you back while others come and go.

the more time you spend together, though, the more vi realizes that you’re not just a fictional character in her head, in a fantasy she pictures before bed — no, you’re tangible.

vi watches as you bring special tea for gert when their period cramps are particularly painful; she listens to you console mel after another fight with her mother and offer advice to sky when she was hoping to ask out her lab partner. vi notices how you prefer your coffee with a dash of cinnamon; and she learns that you had your first kiss with a girl in your freshman year journalism class, and that your first tattoo was done by the same person. a stick-and-poke star on your ankle.

she can hear your laugh, feel the cool metal of your rings brush against her skin accidentally when you’re squeezing past her in a crowded room, smell your perfume when you hug her goodbye. you have stories and quirks and expectations and opinions that vi subconsciously files away as she gets to know you better.

you’re not just a crush, anymore. 

you’re a friend. 

vi likes having you as a friend. really — she does!

you’re a friend who makes vi’s heart jump at the sight of your name on her phone. a friend who smirks when vi blushes after you tell her she has the prettiest cheekbones you’ve ever seen. a friend who mentions this vibrator that gave you one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had, so vi orders the same one and maybe still pictures you before bed, imagining that you’re using it at the same time. except someone else might be next to you.

yeah, vi’s pretty sure you’re dating someone, but that’s something she hasn’t gathered enough information on. 

not that it matters. she wouldn’t be interested in anything serious, anyways, after the mindfuck that was her relationship with caitlyn, and the damage she’s still having to heal from.

though, if that hadn’t happened, vi would have never gotten into a fight with maddie nolan, the second striker for the piltover knights, who taunted her during an exhibition game about how caitlyn is so much happier now that she isn’t disgracing herself with a filthy zaunite. vi would have never been banned from the first half of the tournament and chewed out by coach sevika for fucking up the yellowjackets’ chance at nationals. 

vi would have never been put on academic probation and assigned to 100 hours of community service, either.

she certainly wouldn’t have been here, now, in the women’s centre office close to midnight on a tuesday, folding the most recent issue of the black rose when you walk in.

“oh. hey, v.” you drop down on the zebra-striped couch, your tote bag falling to the ground. “i thought sky was gonna be here tonight.”

vi shakes her head, removing one earbud and letting it dangle from the cord. “she’s got this huge chem report due tomorrow, had to meet up with viktor to get it done.”

“right…” you sigh and lie back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. a few moments pass, and there’s only your steady breathing. “what are you listening to?”

your eyes are closed when vi settles in next to you. it’s a relatively tight fit, but it doesn’t seem like either of you particularly care. vi gently places an earbud in your ear.

you snort, opening your eyes. “you could have just said the cranberries.”

“i’m surprised you recognize them,” vi quips. “it’s not your usual angry girl music.”

“well, sometimes people surprise you. this is actually one of my favorite songs,” you explain. “it’s in one of my favorite movies, too.”

“you’ve got mail?”

you furrow your brows. “when harry met sally.”

vi shakes her head. “no, ‘dreams’ is definitely in you’ve got mail. but, i agree that when harry met sally is a better movie.”

“you’ve watched nora ephron movies and enjoyed them?”

“well, sometimes people surprise you,” vi teases. “i can appreciate a good love story as much as the next person.”

you let out a short, airy laugh. you tilt your head and you’re so close to vi that you’re practically exchanging the same breath. your eyes land on her lips for a millisecond, and vi starts to lean in before you sit up abruptly. 

“i could use some alcohol.” you climb over vi and go to the desk, pull out a half empty bottle of fruit-flavored soju from a drawer. you grab two mugs — the hayley kiyoko one, and another with frida kahlo. you stop short of pouring, looking to vi. she nods. 

soon enough, you’ve got your legs strewn along vi’s lap, sipping lychee infused alcohol. 

“can i ask you something?”

“anything,” vi answers, squeezing your calf.

“why’d you and caitlyn break up?” the question hangs in the air for a second before you add: “if you don’t wanna talk about it though, i understand.” 

shit. it’s definitely not vi’s favorite topic of conversation, but….

“i think she thought that i was one of the good ones, that regardless of the way i grew up or the blood that coursed through my veins, i would be her perfect little charity case. people would be like: future president kiramman definitely cares about the poor — just look at the broke angry lesbian she’s turned into her docile wife!” 

you suck in a sharp breath. “fuck that.” 

“yeah,” vi laughs sadly. “the worst part is that she wanted me to be vulnerable with her, so i was, because i thought the more i opened up, the more she’d love me, but, in the end….i was too messy. i was too much.” 

vi hates the lump that starts to build in her throat, the tears that threaten to spill. she cannot cry in front of you —

you grab her hand. your skin is cool against hers, and it eases her quickening heartbeat.

“you’re not too much, v.” your voice soothes her like honey, trickling down her throat. “it sucks, though, when they ask you to rip your heart out of your chest and get mad at you for bleeding out in front of them.”

“shit, i never thought of it so…viscerally, but that’s exactly what it feels like.”

“well you’re not a creative writing major,” you quip. “i know it still hurts — trust me, i know — but your heart was never hers if she treated you that badly. you deserve more.” 

is it the alcohol messing with her brain, or does it look like you want to kiss her?

fuck. 

vi clears her throat. “why’re you asking?”

you pull your hand away, take a sip of your drink. “jules broke up with me a few days ago.”

you’re single now. good to know. 

“what happened?”

“i caught her kissing someone at a bar. a boy.” you roll your eyes. “maybe she just wasn’t ready, which is fine, but when we had it out, she told me that what we had isn’t what romance is supposed to feel or look like, which sucked. especially after being so….vulnerable with her.”

“you offered her that bleeding heart of yours, didn’t you?” 

you click your tongue, pouring some more soju into each mug. “course i did, v. and it didn’t mean anything in the end. because relationships suck.”

“i’ll drink to that.” 

you cheers, keeping eye contact. 

“and you know what?” you take a big, long gulp. “i know that relationships aren’t just about sex, but i’ve been having to get myself off for months now and sometimes, i just want someone else to —”

“take care of you?”

vi sips her drink, watching you mull over her words.

“not sure if i’d put it like that,” you decide. “i just miss that excitement. when another person wants to discover what makes you feel good, and wanting to learn how to make them feel good, too. i miss having that connection with someone.” 

“i’m guessing you didn’t have that with jules, then.” 

“ha! no. and paula…the girl i dated before….let’s just say, she didn’t give a shit whether i felt good, in any sense.” you shift in your seat; vi senses there’s a story there, but she doesn’t push. “how about future president kiramman — she take care of you?”

vi can’t help but laugh. “nah. i mostly took care of her. she sure liked it when i got down on my knees for her.”

you hum. 

“lucky her.” 

you wink at vi, and she chokes on her drink. 

i would gladly do it for you, if that’s something you want.

“is that a genuine offer? because, if you’re joking —”

shit. did vi say that out loud? 

vi’s heart is beating out of her chest, but she sits up straighter to regain some level of composure. she nods. 

no use in turning back now.

“i’m serious, wonder woman.”

you stare at her. “i really can’t have another relationship that’s just gonna crash and burn.”

“that’s not what i’m offering. i care about our - our friendship. i care about you.”

you swallow. “i care about you, too.”

“right, and when our friends need help with something….”

“we help them,” you finish. “so, you’re really just talking about casual sex. right now, on this couch?”

“yes,” vi answers. maybe a bit too quickly. “if that’s what you want, too.”

“that’s what i want,” you reply. maybe a bit too quickly, too. “but none of this one sided bullshit: you do me, i do you.”

vi takes your mug, puts it next to hers on the floor, and repositions your bodies so that she’s hovering above you, hips set between yours.

“sounds perfect to me.” 

you finally, finally kiss and it feels oddly…familiar. you taste like lychees and nicotine and cherries, burnt sweetness, and your skin is so fucking soft.

“wait.” you tug on vi’s hair and she has to bite back a moan at how fucked out you already look underneath her, all wide-eyed and desperate. “just so we’re 100% clear: just sex.”

vi nods once. “no strings attached.”

“it’ll be casual.” 

“we’re not doing the whole relationship thing.”

“promise?”

vi sticks out her pinky, grinning at you sheepishly. you roll your eyes ever so slightly, but still wrap your pinky around hers.

“promise.” 

so, you take care of each other. no strings attached.

because that’s what friends are for, right? 

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

v ⚽

are u busy rn? got out of my lab early and im bored 

wndr wmn ☆

yeah, im at work

v ⚽️

leave early. im BORED and HORNY

wndr wmn ☆

ofc you are 

v ⚽️

pls u love it 

u know #6 isn’t just my jersey number ;))

i’m implying that i will give u 6 consecutive orgasms

wndr wmn ☆

yeah i got that 

v ⚽️

so….

wndr wmn ☆

….

leaving now

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“you sure about this, v?” 

vi hums, looking up at you through hooded eyes. “isn’t it every girl’s dream to get tied up by the lasso of truth, wonder woman?”

you’re straddling her, still wearing your red and gold bodysuit underneath blue shorts that you’ve decorated with silver stars. your makeshift lasso of truth — really, just some gold rope — sparkles, tying vi’s wrists together to the headboard.

the theme of the women’s centre halloween celebration is always the same — dress up at your favorite female icon — but you’d never seen someone look as good as vi does. she dressed as trinity from the matrix, all tight, black leather and vinyl, showcasing her defined muscles as the gods intended.

now, she’s left in a sleeveless cropped top and black boyshorts, with her pants and jacket thrown somewhere on your apartment floor. 

you have a feeling she really liked your costume, too, because she practically begged you to take control tonight. 

“if it gets too much, our safeword will be —”

“sappho.” the slight whine of impatience in her voice sends a jolt right to your core.

“perfect.��

you kiss her lips, her jaw, her neck, your lipstick leaving angry red marks. you lodge your bare thigh in between vi’s legs, biting your bottom lip when you feel her already warm and wet, when you hear her whimper as you apply more pressure to where she needs you most. you reach into your nightstand for your vibrator and switch it on, teasing vi’s nipples through her shirt. 

vi moans, deep and loud. not even thirty seconds, and she’s already pulling at the restraints, the headboard creaking. 

“are you gonna be a good girl for me, violet?” you coo, inching the vibrator lower and lower, feeling her shake underneath you. “because we’ve got all night, and you better not break my bed.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“hey, so — i found these in between one of the couch cushions, thought maybe they might be yours.”

you can only spare a glance at the item mel is holding up — you’re grading freshman papers, focused on this one student’s thesis about gender fluidity in shakespeare’s twelfth night.

“oh, those are vi’s.”

“hm. and just how is it that you know what her underwear looks like?”

you stop writing mid-sentence and look up at mel who’s giving you a pointed look. 

you and vi had been the ones to clean up after feminist film friday last week, and one thing led to another….

in your defense: vi had been wearing these low cut jeans that showed off her v-line, and you could tell she didn’t have her usual sports bra on because you could see the outlines of her nipple rings through her tight, white tank top. it took everything in you to wait until people cleared out during the credits of the watermelon woman to pin her down and have her whimpering for you.

“i just…guessed.”

“right.” mel rolls her eyes. “so, you and violet are….what? fucking? dating?”

you clear your throat and take a sip of lukewarm coffee. 

“we’re keeping it casual,” is all you say.

“are you sure that’s a good idea?”

you just shrug.

“just — be careful,” mel, always the diplomatic one, eases. she walks towards you, sits on the edge of the desk, and hands you the pair of black briefs. “i know we all teased you about it before, but i don’t want to see you get hurt. i’ve seen you get your heart broken one too many times.”

“it’s fine, mel,” you assure her, grabbing the piece of fabric and shoving it at the bottom of your bag. you’re visiting their owner after this, anyways. “vi and i are just friends helping each other out.”

mel raises an eyebrow. “well, you and i have been friends for years and we’ve never gotten that close.”

“that’s different.”

“how so?”

“i appreciate your concern,” you say, avoiding the question. “but it’s fine. nice, actually.” 

“it’s your life,” mel sighs. “maybe don’t fuck on our couches anymore, though.” 

your cheeks heat up. you turn your attention back to the essay in front of you.

“noted.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi starts showing up at your place after soccer. 

she’s allowed back on the field during games now, so she appears with a winning grin, a grass-stained uniform and fresh bruises on her knees. one time, she had the remnants of a bloody nose after a header gone wrong, and you could taste copper when she pressed her lips against yours before she hopped in the shower.

you keep her go-to body wash stocked — bergamot and cedarwood scented old spice — but she always walks out of the bathroom smelling like your mango-vanilla shower gel. sometimes even your coconut shampoo. she slips on one of your oversized graphic tees, drapes a light purple towel around her shoulders to avoid staining your shirt with her cheaply dyed black hair, fading back to pink with each wash. she walks over to the fridge in her soft gray sweatpants rolled at the ankles and cracks open one of the spiced-pear red bulls as you pull ingredients out for dinner. usually something quick and simple, since it’s always a long week and neither of you have capacity for anything more.

vi chops garlic and tells you about her game; you boil water for pasta and tell her about the latest drama between students in your literature class. 

you pretend you have all the time in the world.

because you both know that vi’s got the strap packed in her gym bag, that soon one thing will lead to another and she’ll be fucking you with it until you’re both sweaty and spent and exhausted in the best way possible. 

you’ve established this routine together, agreed upon several unspoken rules: no pillow talk once it’s over; no actually falling asleep in the other’s bed; no crossing that thin sapphic line between friendship and romance. 

no breaking that promise.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

wndr wmn

wanna come over? i’m watching bend it like beckham

v ⚽️

MY FAVORITE!!

i would love 2

but lucky fell asleep on me 

we just finished devouring an xl pepperoni pizza 

wndr wmn

remind me again why your one-eyed golden retriever likes pizza so much?

v ⚽️

come on it’s cute

[v ⚽️ sent an attachment]

wndr wmn

yeah, you’re cute

v ⚽️

<3 

come over here instead?

wndr wmn

omw

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi whines, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“come on — hurry up.”

“you practically begged for this, v,” you chide. 

“yeah, but you’re taking too long and your hands are fucking freezing.”

“it’s the irony deficiency, babe,” you quip. “now, are you gonna be a good girl and let me finish?”

“fine,” vi grumbles. she does stop squirming, though. you hum, pleased.

you certainly didn’t miss the way her breath hitches at the nickname. vi’s right hand, freshly polished, tightens on your thigh.

you’re not sure why she called you at 1:27am for your help with this, or why she couldn’t just do it herself, but you’re sitting on her lap, painting her nails the color of pomegranate juice, a color she had chosen from the options you brought.

sure, you were about to turn in for an early night, but the moment you heard her voice through the phone, you rushed over to her place wearing nothing but your pajamas — plaid boxer shorts and a spiderman shirt that vi wore last time she was at yours, and you haven’t washed since.

you stretch time out as much as you can, meticulous in every stroke, but painting her nails doesn’t take much longer. you start to move off her lap — it’s probably time for you to leave — but vi grabs your hips, a playful smirk on her lips.

oh, right. that’s the type of relationship — friendship — you and vi agreed upon.

shit. you’re pretty sure that you’re wearing your days of the week underwear. is it a turn-off that you’ve got on a saturday pair on a thursday?

it doesn’t really matter, anyways.

instead of initiating a kiss, vi takes the bottle of polish from you, swaps it for black, and gestures for your hand. you blink at her, until you realize what she’s asking.

“oh! you don’t have to —”

“you do me, i do you.” vi grins at you. “i thought that was our arrangement.” 

you laugh, feeling warmth radiate from your chest.

it’s kind of….adorable, the furrow of her brow, the way she curses under her breath when a drop of nail polish falls onto your skin. she’s surprisingly gentle, too, one of her hands holding yours for support while the other paints. 

while she focuses on getting the polish onto your nails in even layers, you busy yourself by counting vi’s freckles. 

violet rose atlas has a constellation of freckles sparkling across her cheeks. you hope there’s enough time in the world for you to memorize every single one.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

v ⚽️

do u need more nicotine gum? 

im at cvs rn

wndr wmn

yeah that’d be great!!

v ⚽️

ok 

i’ll get u the cinnamon one

that’s the one u like right?

wndr wmn

yep!!!

v ⚽️

okay cool

im also gonna get u some of those iron supplements

wndr wmn

my hero 🙏🏽

thank you sm

v ⚽️

ofc

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“that red head was trying to get your number.”

“are you jealous, v?”

vi scoffs, sipping her cherry coke. “of course not. i’m just observant.”

you’d convinced your manager to let vi back into sappho’s. it’s nice, really, to see her back here again. 

nice, but different. 

gone are the days of staring at her from across the room, where she would be charming someone else, and only flirting with you when she came over to get another whiskey for herself and vodka something for her date. instead, she jokes around with mel, sky, and gert if they’re around, and sometimes brings her teammates in as well to play a game of pool. she usually has one drink, and then switches to something non-alcoholic. sometimes, vi doesn’t even come in for a drink; she just stops by to say hi before a team dinner or a study session.

(it’s fine — never once have you gotten an overpriced coffee from the cafe she started working at mid-october, and you probably stop by once a week between errands. that’s your excuse, anyways.)

so. things are different, but nice. 

you lean across the sticky counter. “you want me to get down on my knees for you right now to prove which girl here i’d like to go home with?”

“baby….” vi shifts on the bar stool. it’s hard to tell under the dim multicolored lights, but you’re pretty sure she’s blushing, too. 

“i think we both know you’d draw a bit too much attention to yourself. especially when i use my tongue to —”

“my car’s outside.” 

you smirk. “my break’s in 15.”

you used to spend your breaks in the alley outside sappho’s burning through a cigarette. now you find yourself knee-deep in the passenger seat, eating vi out like she’s the last thing you’ll ever taste. 

“f-fuck,” vi groans. 

“feels good, yeah?” you tease her clit with her tongue, sliding two fingers into her easily. you work fast, determined to let her finish before you run out of time.

“so fucking good. i’m gonna —”

she clenches around your fingers; you lap her up eagerly, let her writhe against your face until she’s had enough. 

you sit back on your knees once her hips still, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. you crane your neck to check the time on the dashboard, when you notice something in the footwell.

“vi! i thought i lost this.”

vi grins at you sheepishly, chest still heaving as you hold up the complete works of audre lorde, a tattered book with a well-worn spine and dog-eared pages. 

“sorry. i meant to put it back on your nightstand once i was finished.”

you open to where she’s placed a makeshift bookmark — the ticket from an underground sirens of zaun show you’d both gone to. you’ve had this copy since freshman year, the scribble of your handwriting in the margins of practically on every page.

“it’s okay,” you tell her. “you like it so far?”

“yeah.” she grabs the book from you gently, thumbing through the pages. you wonder if vi registers the curves of her own smile, tender and bashful. “honestly, i’m not usually a fan of poetry, but it’s really cool how lorde writes about desire between women in such a tangible way, you know? i really liked this one verse in ‘recreation:’ ‘touching you, i catch midnight as moon fires set in my throat.’ it’s just so - so beautiful, the idea of something so domestic and mundane being almost magical, because that’s what it’s really like when —”

you don’t even realize that you’re staring until vi looks up at you and freezes.

“sorry,” she clears her throat, closing the book and setting it aside. “did i say something wrong?”

you assure vi that she did nothing wrong. 

you exit her car, the taste of her lingering on your tongue, the feeling of her keeping your body warm on this cold november night.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

wndr wmn

hey

are you in town during break?

v⚽️

having dinner at my dads’ on friday but otherwise im here

why? u gonna miss me?? 

wndr wmn

lol

im having ppl over for friendsgiving on sunday

if you wanna join

v ⚽️

hell yeah

can i bring anything?

wndr wmn

just your pretty face

i’ll take care of the rest

turkey, cranberry, sauce, stuffing, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie…

etc. etc.

v ⚽️

damn!!!!

full course meal

wndr wmn

yep

im basically wife material

v⚽️

pls we’re so over gender norms

but yeah

you are

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi has never been the type to wait by the phone for a girl to text, or to show up at her place after not hearing from her in a while, worried that she might have done something wrong. 

yet here she is, standing outside your door.

it’s cool, though. completely platonic behavior.

she knocks. 

there’s no answer. 

she knocks again.

nothing.

vi waits another second, leaning her shoulder against the door.

“it’s me, wonder woman,” she tries. 

hope flutters in her chest as she hears you shuffle, unchain the lock. vi stumbles as you throw the door open, but she recovers quickly to find you: smudged black eyeliner enhancing the shadows underneath your eyes, hair in disarray, clothes disheveled. 

“i’m not really in the mood for sex.”

vi can’t help but laugh, even though your comment feels like a punch to the face.

“wow. figured you would think more of me by now than just some horny teenage boy.”

“look, vi —”

vi? 

since when do you call her that?

“i’m sorry i missed the meeting today. i texted mel —”

damn, so your phone does work. 

you’ve just been ignoring her calls and texts.

“but i’m just… it’s not a good time, okay? i’ll see you around.”

ah. 

the classic generic excuse and non-committal statement combo.

you start to close the door on her before she even has a chance to get a word in.

the hits just keep coming. 

thankfully, vi’s always been a good fighter.

“wait.” vi places her palm firmly on the door before you can fully shut her out. “i’m just here to check on you.” 

your face remains unchanged.

“okay, well, you’ve checked on me.” 

“yeah, i’ve checked on you. you look like shit.”

you glare at her. “well i’m sorry i didn’t have the time to get all prettied up for you. i know that you like me better that way.”

“that’s not what i  —”  vi inhales sharply. she’s a fighter, but she doesn’t want to fight you. “mel dropped the news — about admin officially cutting our funding. i knew how that would affect you, so….” vi lifts the bag of takeout. “i brought some thai food for us to share. a pomegranate, too, because i know you like seasonal fruit. it’s been a while and honestly, i just….i just wanted to spend time with you.”

you exhale, your eyes softening. 

there. 

a hesitant smile, an invitation to come inside.

there are clothes all over your floor and dishes piled high in the sink. your desk is littered with empty boxes of cereal and cans of an energy drink that normally you’d never touch. the blanket that sky had crocheted for you — lavender and pink checkered — is unfolded on your couch, your laptop half-closed on the coffee table in front next to two stacks of printed essays — ones marked with purple pen, the others untouched. in contrast, your bed is still perfectly made. 

you take the blanket and wrap it around your shoulders, sitting at the kitchen table and curling into yourself. vi busies herself in cracking open the pomegranate, putting the seeds into the last clean bowl in your cupboard. the palms of her arm wraps are now stained a reddish-purple, but she doesn’t care.

vi manages to find two pairs of clean chopsticks for the thai food, and the two of you eat in silence. 

“so….” vi starts, watching you stab a piece of chicken before popping it into your mouth. “you wanna talk about it, or….?”

“what’s there to talk about?”

“well, for starters, maybe tell me what’s been getting you into full hibernation mode? we haven’t seen each other in, like, a week.”

“six days,” you correct, chewing a mouthful of noodles. “last tuesday, we played pool during my closing shift at sappho’s. i lost. you made me down two shots of tequila because you’re a menace and you know i hate it.” 

“yeah, but i drove you home and tucked you into bed with water and advil for later, so i’m also a gentleman. so, just tell me what’s been going on. we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

“it’s fine,” you grumble.

“clearly, it’s not. just tell me what you need.”

“what i need is to not be distracted,” you huff, avoiding eye contact. “i certainly don’t need you —”

“taking care of you, i know.” vi grabs your hand from across the table. she feels you stiffen on instinct, and then ease into the heat of her skin. “trust me, i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want to be. so — humor me.”

vi squeezes your hand, hoping to reassure you. 

you sigh. “i’ve just — i’ve been spiralling trying to figure out how the centre can keep going with, like, half our required budget, trying to see if we can get some external donors and i still need to finalize the venue and equipment rentals for our last open mic….and….and my sibling called again to tell me that things haven’t been great at home, so i want to go down there this weekend to sort everything out, but my car hasn’t been starting….plus i’m behind on grading, and i told my supervisor i’d have a complete draft ready by thursday and i’m not even halfway done, and that’s the same day we’re having that art build for the climate rally on friday, and i’ve been having the worst cramps since this afternoon, and all i wanna do is pass out and sink into my duvet, but i need to keep going —”

vi squeezes your hand again, this time more firmly. “you need to slow down.” 

“i can’t.” you huff. “i have to keep everything from falling apart, and if i don’t….”

vi shifts to the chair next to yours, still holding your hand. 

“but you can’t do it all if you’re too exhausted to take care of yourself. from the looks of it, you’ve been living off of frosted flakes, red bull, and zero sleep.” 

you shrug. “if that’s what it takes.”

“if that’s what it takes, then maybe it’s not worth it.”

“don’t say that,” you tell her. “it’s all worth it. i just wish it wasn’t so…heavy.”

vi nods, because she really, truly understands. she gives you the advice she can see you giving her in another context.

“you ever think that maybe it wouldn’t feel as heavy if you…i don’t know…weren’t too stubborn to ask for help.”

“there are things that are my responsibility, violet,” you tell her, slipping your hand away. you reach for the bowl of pomegranate seeds, meticulously picking up one at a time with your chopsticks and crushing it in between your molars. “i can’t just pass those off to someone else.” 

“fine. but what about other things? like the women’s centre stuff — we’re a team, right? so we’ll figure it out together, divide the labor so you’re not doing everything. and, maybe ask your supervisor for an extension, too? and, well, i don’t really need my car this weekend, so you’re welcome to borrow it.”

you pause, narrowing your eyes at her. 

“you said…. ‘we.’”

“well, yeah. i’m part of the team, aren’t i?”

“but you’ll be finished with your hours in a week. there’s no reason for you to stay.”

“of course there is,” vi whispers, studying your face as it morphs from suspicious to something else, something gentler. 

her heart is pounding as she waits for you to say something, so vi starts to dig into the pomegranate seeds, the juice surprisingly more sweet than sour. some dribbles out from the corner of her lips, and you reach over to wipe it away with your thumb.

“i’d love for you to stay,” you hum, smiling, and vi feels her chest glow with a brightness it seems only you can bring out. “turns out you give pretty good advice.”

“so…you’ll consider it.”

you shrug again. “maybe. i am very tempted to take you up on the car thing.”

“all yours, if you want it.”

“are you sure?”

“it’s fine, wonder woman. i’ll just carpool to practice — it’s better for the environment, anyways. can’t show up to the climate rally as a hypocrite, can i?” she jokes, and you roll your eyes playfully. “and, i’ll try to fix your car while you’re away.”

“wow. you are a gentleman.”

“gentleman? baby, i’m husband material.”

you actually laugh.

“i thought we were over gender norms,” you quip. “but yeah. you are.” 

vi’s cheeks heat up at your statement. you most definitely notice her blushing because you break out into a toothy grin

“i missed you, v,” you admit. “any other words of wisdom?”

despite your tender smile, you look exhausted. vi just wants to hold you through it all, tell you it’s gonna be okay. instead, she settles for placing a gentle hand on your cheek, running her thumb over the deep shadow underneath your eye. 

“get some rest, pretty girl.”

a few hours later, you wake up alone. 

you have a vague memory of warm arms wrapped around you, a heart beating steadier than yours. your sheets smell like old spice, your apartment smells like fresh laundry. you get out of bed and notice that there are no more dishes in your sink, no more cans or containers on any surface. all the clothes you’d been meaning to wash are now carefully folded on your couch. 

there’s a bright pink sticky note on your nightstand next to the keys to vi’s car.

you talk in your sleep. something about stargazing? maybe we can go when you get back. 

drive safe. text me if you need anything.

xxx

- v

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

zaun yellowjackets vs. piltover knights. 

two minutes left in overtime. 

one goal standing in the way of their trophy. one goal to end piltover’s monopoly over the title of national champions. 

caitlyn probably told her knights to be extra aggressive — win by any means necessary — so it’s been a long game of dirty plays and intentional fouls.

vi always puts her heart into every single game, but this time —

this time, it’s personal. 

zaun’s defense works to regain possession and prevent piltover’s attack. ashe manages to intercept a pass between two knights, and is quick in dribbling the ball until mid-field. she sends it over to vi with a swift kick. vi’s quick on her feet, catching piltover’s defense by surprise, sprinting closer and closer to the goal. she makes it to the penalty box.

this could be the winning point. 

vi has it, too. she’s so fucking close, about to fake out the goalie and kick into that hard-to-defend sweet spot — until a sharp, pointy elbow collides with her ribs so abruptly, it knocks the wind out of her lungs. she stumbles forward over the ball, knees skidding onto the grass. whoever it is also steps on vi’s cleat for good measure. 

“fuck!” she looks up to see who it is.

of course. it’s maddie fucking nolan, who doesn’t spare so much as a glance as the ref doles out a red card. she nods at caitlyn as she walks off the field, no doubt following her captain’s orders.

her teammates help vi to her feet, and the ref makes sure everyone is in position for the penalty kick.

this could be the winning point. vi just has to ignore caitlyn’s icy stare from a few feet away, and the heart threatening to beat out of her chest. 

vi takes a deep breath. 

she looks to the stands. among the crowd of screaming fans, zaunites and pilties alike, is vi’s family. they’re cheering.

you’re there too, sitting next to them. 

everyone is staring at vi, waiting for the whistle, waiting for her to make the shot, but the only person she stares back at is you.

you’ve got this, v, you had whispered to her the night before. she couldn’t sleep, so she called you. vi wishes she was back there, now — tangled in flannel sheets, lucky snoring at the foot of the bed, gazing up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling until she finally fell asleep in your arms.

but, vi’s on the field. 

and this is the winning point. 

the whistle blows. 

she makes the shot.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“i told you i wasn’t a jinx!” powder sticks her tongue out at mylo.

she’s all sweat and dirt and adrenaline, but, fuck, if vi isn’t so, incredibly happy and proud of her team, of everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve accomplished.

it almost doesn’t feel real.

just like it doesn’t feel real, seeing you talk animatedly with her sister’s boyfriend, laughing along with her siblings, smiling as you watch her dads hug and praise her.

when it’s your turn to do the same, you practically leap into vi’s arms, gushing about how amazing she was, how proud you are of her. 

“this looks good on you,” vi hums, as you pull away from another hug. her fingers play with the bottom of the jersey, and she bites the inside of her cheek to ground herself in the moment. you, with her family. you, in her jersey. “thinking of joining the yellowjackets?”

“i think i’ll leave the soccer to you,” you tell her. “you were amazing out there. guess i should be calling you wonder woman from now on, huh?”

“wonder woman! that’s where i remember you from!” vander suddenly exclaims, stepping closer to the pair of you. silco turns around, too. “you once tried to get into the last drop with a fake id, didn’t you? under the name diana prince?”

“shit,” you laugh nervously, eyes flickering between vander and the ground as if you’re once again a teenager caught in the act. “i….probably did.”

“i kicked you out, told you to go home to themyscira.”

“yeah…i….i remember that.” you nod slowly, furrowing your brows. “except, i didn’t want to go home that night, so i lingered outside,” you continue. you turn to vi, and your face softens. “which was when you —”

“brought two glasses of cherry coke and rum,” vi finishes; she sees flashes of that night as you gaze into her eyes. “we climbed onto the roof and —”

that was her first kiss. vi never even realized until now, but —

you were her first kiss.

“i can’t believe i forgot that.”

“weird, how memory works,” you agree, tilting your head curiously, looking at vi with a newfound interest, like a ghost from your past.

“well, isn’t this a story we’ll be sharing on your wedding day!” vander chuckles, ruffling vi’s hair. 

“don’t pressure them, darling,” silco chides, but the smirk growing on his face gives him away. he’s loving this drama. “they’re barely 23 — i doubt they’ve discussed marriage.” 

“oh, we’re not —”

“yeah, we’re just —”

“friends,” you say at the same time, careful to avoid eye contact.

vi feels like she might burst into flames at the knowing look vander and silco share.

“well, violet, would your friend like to join us for a celebratory dinner?” silco asks.

so that’s how you’re sitting between powder and claggor, listening to them talk your ear off about the young innovator’s competition. vi’s sitting across from you, next to ekko, who occasionally pipes in. 

you’re here, sharing the tradition of a post-game meal with vi’s family at the local pizza parlour. 

caitlyn never even wanted to meet vi’s family.

a few pizzas are ordered for the table, and you eat and laugh and sip your soda along with everyone else. you make a flower out of your paper napkin and hand it to isha, who’s on the other side of powder, and she gives you a toothy grin in return. you answer all the standard questions about your job and major and plans for the future.

“after graduation, i’m probably gonna take a break, get some work experience,” you explain. “maybe save up some money for law school a few years down the road.”

“you wanna be a lawyer, huh? you sure you wanna be friends with a felon, then?” powder asks, blowing bubbles into her soda through her straw. 

vi coughs, choking on a mushroom. 

“powder!” 

“what! she never told you?”

you shake your head, glancing over at vi who suddenly finds it hard to look you in the eye. your foot has been pressed against hers underneath the table all night; you pull it away now. she takes a big gulp of water; vi looks over at vander and silco for help, but they seem to be caught up in their own conversation.

“oh, damn! ” mylo adds, leaning over. “it’s a great story!” 

“guys, maybe don’t —”

“but it’s a great story!” mylo insists. “shows what a badass you are!”

“she didn’t do anything serious, like murder or anything,” powder clarifies. “it was really just her pissing off some enforcers —”

“rightfully so,” ekko adds. 

claggor nods. “we were just kids. they were harassing us for some bullshit, disruption of property or whatever, so vi steps in and things get heated —”

“it takes three of enforcers to get her handcuffed, but she manages to get a few nasty hits in before they send her off to stillwater —”

“she spends three days there —”

“i thought it was two —”

“no, it was three —”

“needless to say, this isn’t the first time vi has been sentenced to community service, but it seems she’s really enjoying it this time, thanks to you,” powder finishes, winking at you. 

“well that’s….quite the story,” you finally say, voice steady. 

“oh! let’s tell her about the time she stole from some enforcers that were hoarding food —”

as powder continues the story, and you listen intently, it’s hard to read your expression.

are you ashamed of being friends with her? disgusted by her family, her past? regretful that you ever let her touch you, let her into your life? 

vi’s stomach turns when your eyes collide; she’s been down this road before, and vi’s scared that she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

she pushes her chair back and disappears to the bathroom before she has to watch you walk away.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

there’s a knock on the door.

“someone’s in here,” vi says. she grips the edge of the counter so hard, her knuckles turn white. 

deep breaths. 

this isn’t the same as before.

this isn’t caitlyn, who threw vi out like a piece of trash when something better came along. 

then again, you never knew this much about vi’s past. you’re well within your right to —

there’s another knock.

“v? it’s me….i have to get going, but i wanted to check on you before i leave.”

“okay,” vi clips. she looks up at herself in the mirror; she had splashed her face with cold water to calm herself down. a drop falls from her chin. “bye.”

“are you sure you’re okay?”

“i’m fine. see you around.”

you sigh, and vi hears you settle against the doorframe. 

“violet, let me in,” you press. “please?” 

“i’m fine. you can leave.”

“okay, well, i’m not leaving until i see that gorgeous face of yours one more time,” you whisper. “i got all dolled up just for you, and all i wanna do is give you a proper goodbye….” 

well, when you put it like that….

vi grabs some paper towel to dry her face and fixes her hair before opening the door for you. you smile knowingly, enter and lock the door behind you. 

you lean against the door as vi leans against the counter, the marble digging into her lower back.

“okay, i’ll start because, frankly, i don’t have time to waste,” you state after a few moments of silence. “nothing i’ve learned about you tonight has changed how i see you. it’s just confirmed some things.”

“right. like how impulsive and violent and reckless i’ve always been,” she lists glumly, unable to look you in the eye.

“maybe you are all those things,” you pause. “but, i don’t fucking care. i mean, i do, because it’s part of you and i like who you are. i like you.”

your words do wonders to ease the tension throughout vi’s body, and she feels like she can actually take a breath.

vi’s eyes lock onto yours.

“you do?”

“i like who you are, every part of it,” you tell her. “well, i don’t like that you’ve had to fight your way through an unbelievably fucked up system ever since you were a kid, but the bottom line is that you’re the strongest, most compassionate person i know.”

vi blinks at you.

“funny, i was just thinking the same thing about you the other day.”

neither of you say anything for a minute or so, letting the sentiment linger in the small space between you. once more, you’re the one to break the ice.

“well, you know what they say about great minds….” you step closer to vi. you take her chin between your thumb and your index finger. "can you guess what i’m thinking now?" 

vi shakes her head, throat suddenly very dry.

“i’m thinking that i’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”

“what’s stopped you?”

you grin. “i didn’t want to make a fuss in front of your family, but now that we’re alone….”

vi doesn't say anything, but instead closes the gap between your lips.

you kiss her, harsh and messy, tongue and teeth, swallowing her moans as your fingers snake down the waistband of her pants. you pull vi’s bottom lip with your teeth before moving to her neck, nipping along the outline of her tattoo. you bite down harder on her skin, right at her pulse point. 

"what’s that you said earlier —” a low groan tumbles from vi’s lips when you start to suck just above her collarbones. another when your tongue soothes over the sting. “about a proper goodbye…?” she tugs your hair so that you’re looking right at her. 

it’s quite the sight — your lips swollen, chest heaving, eyes curious and lustful.

“anything you want,” you whisper, all breathless. 

vi hums. she slips a hand underneath the frayed hem of your denim skirt, and you gasp as her nails scrape against your inner thigh.

she likes that you’re here. here for her.

"get on your knees for me, sweetheart.”

she pulls down her pants along with her briefs, as you kneel before her without hesitation.

you drape one of her legs over your shoulder, giving your tongue better access to her cunt. vi grips your hair tighter, bringing you in closer, and you moan, sending vibrations up her body.

"fuck," vi hisses. you add a finger, while your tongue works her clit. 

you bring her to the edge, stay with her even as her thighs clench around your skull. she expects you to get back on your feet right away, but you stay, adding another finger and sucking her clit. she moans your name.

you pull away slightly. "one more, pretty girl," you promise. your chin glistens with vi’s release; you lick your lips as you gaze up at her through thick eyelashes. "can you do that for me?" she nods furiously, and you get back to work.

after letting her ride your tongue and fingers through another orgasm, you kiss her ankle before releasing her leg. vi pulls you up to your feet, sucks the taste of herself off your tongue.

you pull away slightly, heart racing against vi’s chest. 

vi swipes her thumb over the smudged lipstick below your lip. she studies you, admires you, like you’re a fucking work of art that belongs in a gallery, like you didn’t just fucked her through two consecutive orgasms in the bathroom at a pizza parlour while wham's "last christmas" plays through shitty speakers.

"take these off." vi tugs at your tights. you do as instructed, slipping off your underwear as well. she pulls you towards her, and lodges a leg in between yours. your bare cunt brushes against her thigh, back and forth as she guides your hips. "i can't believe you got all dressed up…. wearing my jersey, and this pretty little skirt even though it’s so cold outside. all for me?"

vi flexes her thigh muscles, pushing you down faster and harder. you whimper.

"all – all for you.”

vi feels her pussy clench, with the desperation in your voice, the stickiness of your heat against her skin, the smell of the two of you intertwining. your orgasm crashes into you, and vi holds you through it. 

you kiss her ever so sweetly before removing yourself from her grasp, smoothing down your skirt and looking around for your underwear.

"where are my...." 

you look over as vi tucks your fuschia thong into the inner pocket of her jacket.

"i'm guessing you'll buy me replacements for christmas."

vi flashes you a shit eating grin before putting on her own underwear. she then pulls up her pants, not wiping your release from her thigh. she likes the idea of walking around with you seeped into her skin. 

when vi looks over at you, you’re as fully dressed as you can be and busy checking something on your phone. she only sees a flash of your lock screen, but it’s her. a photo of her and lucky playing at the park; there’s snow, so it had to have been a few days ago. 

that doesn’t mean anything, right? people use photos of their friends for their wallpaper all the time.

“i really have to go,” you sigh. you pull a tube of lipstick from your pocket and step closer to the mirror. “hey — do you think we could switch shirts? not sure i should wear this to my next dinner.”

vi nods and you remove her jersey, revealing a matching fuschia bralette. she wonders what’s got you all coordinated — who else you’ve clearly dressed up for. 

“so, you’ve got a hot date?” vi tries to act casual as she takes off her jacket, pulls off her shirt, and waits for you to answer. you take your time, fixing yourself in the mirror.

“something like that,” you finally say with a shy smile.

later, when isha’s asleep on powder’s lap in the backseat, vi thinks about how your date might have gone, if you’re taking them home to the same bed vi has fucked you in throughout these past few months.

where do you get off, fucking vi in the bathroom during dinner while her parents are at the table, only to leave for another date, wearing vi’s shirt, too?

“hey, can i ask you something?” ekko asks from beside her, cutting off the angry monologue in her head.

vi reaches over to turn down the music.

“sure, little man. what’s up?”

“what’s the deal between you and wonder woman?”

vi clears her throat, gripping the steering wheel. “what makes you think there’s a deal?”

“oh, please, we all noticed that hickey on your neck after she visited you in the bathroom.” 

the car crawls to a stop as the light turns red, and vi adjusts the collar of her shirt.

“we’re just friends.”

“well, powder and i were just friends for ages,” ekko points out.

vi doesn’t notice that the light’s turned green until someone behind her honks. she steps on the gas, but the idiot behind her still cuts in front of her.

“asshole,” she grumbles, throwing them a middle finger for good measure. vi glances to her right at ekko, who’s scribbling something in his sketchbook despite only the streetlamps outside providing light. “so, what made you….realize that you wanted something more?”

ekko closes his book, smiling to himself. 

“honestly? it was kinda a million little things, but what it really comes down to is that she’s the only person i could spend every second of my life with, and i’d still want more time. and, in my experience….it’s better to tell someone how you feel sooner rather than later.”

“or, some people prefer to wait a few weeks,” powder mumbles, stirring awake. “nice try, mister, but no interfering. i’m not losing 20 bucks.”

“wait — you’ve bet on my love life?”

ekko smirks. “so it is love.”

vi shrugs, pretends that she doesn’t immediately picture you in your kitchen, making her banana pancakes at 2am when she hears the word love. 

“it doesn’t matter.”

because, it really doesn’t matter. 

you’re out with someone else right now. 

it’s over before it really had a chance to begin.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

cupcake 

Hey, Vi

Just wanted to say good game today

You played brilliantly

Violet

k

cupcake

No need for the attitude

I was just trying to be nice

Violet

my apologies!!!

thank you SO much for recognizing my talent captain kiramman

i feel like i’m actually worth something now!!!

cupcake

Bitterness isn’t a good colour on you, darling

Violet

im NOT your darling

cupcake

I’m aware

I saw you earlier with that girl

Are you together? 

Violet

idk

are you still with maddie?

cupcake

Actually, we broke up

I was hoping you and I could chat

Violet

what’s in it for me?

cupcake

The chance to reconnect with an old friend

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

you can excuse vi no longer attending the weekly team meeting. she finished her 100 hours around thanksgiving, so technically she didn’t need to be there anymore.

maybe you could excuse her ignoring your calls, or leaving your texts on read. it’s finals season, and she did mention picking up a few extra shifts to save up for christmas presents. 

but you simply can’t excuse vi walking into sappho’s with caitlyn fucking kiramman, ordering drinks from you like you’re absolute strangers.

“what the fuck, vi?” you seethe. 

vi glances at her date. caitlyn’s waiting for her back at a table, the glow of her phone screen illuminating her pretty face.

“what, should i have ordered something else? not every girl likes cherry coke and rum.” 

you glare at her from across the counter, but start preparing their drinks nonetheless. 

“why are you with her?” you throw some ice in a glass, the cubes clinking aggressively against the crystal. “are you back together?”

vi has the audacity to roll her eyes at you. “why’d you care?”

you catch yourself before saying something you���ll regret, something about liking her more than you definitely should considering the agreement the two of you had made. 

clearly, vi doesn’t feel the same way; it’s not worth spilling your guts to her at your place of work. 

“because we’re friends.”

“yeah, right,” vi scoffs. “you’re jealous, which you have no right to be because you’re seeing someone, too.”

you accidentally pour a double shot of vodka. you don’t really care, and mix the drink anyways.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“i’m talking about the date you went on the night of my championship game.”

“what date?” you slam the glasses in front of vi, so hard that you’re lucky they didn’t break.

“oh, don’t play dumb.” vi spits your name like it’s poison. “this whole thing started because you said you didn’t want a relationship, when really you just didn’t want a relationship with me. you used me until someone better came along. you lied to me.”

her eyes are glazed over, her voice shaking ever so slightly. you’re not sure if you’re more hurt or angry by what she’s saying, but it cuts deep; you continue as though you aren’t bleeding out in front of her.

“i don’t want a relationship with anyone and certainly not with you —”

“excuse me! are we able to order something?” someone with bright green hair and a septum piercing waves their hand in front of your face.

“yeah, just give us a second —”

“look, you and your girlfriend can fight on your own time.”

“she’s not my girlfriend!” you and vi snap simultaneously. 

you glare at each other.

vi grabs the glasses from the counter, and walks away.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

it took many brainstorming sessions, many boring conversations with potential donors, and many, many tears, but you managed to secure enough funding to keep the women’s centre going for the foreseeable future.  

it was a team effort, of course, so you just want everyone to enjoy this open mic night, the last event of the semester — even though you are weighed down by the absence of a certain someone.

the gallery space on campus that you rented out is both cozy and electric, decorated with fairy lights on the walls, with pillows and blankets on the floor for people to sit and watch performances. there’s a table with drinks and snacks, a corner for people to make art if they’re inspired. 

you’re rearranging the food, watching gert perform an original song when mel slides in next to you, wearing a gorgeous white dress with gold accents. 

“do you mind running to the office? we’re out of paint.”

“really? people don’t usually use the paint.”

“well, it seems to be quite popular tonight.”

“it’s fine. we still have lots of other stuff. they can just collage or something.”

mel shakes her head. “i really think you should go get more paint.”

“maybe ask sky? i should stay here —”

“you could use a break, too,” mel cuts you off, placing a hand on your shoulder. “you’ve been nonstop all day; the rest of us can hold down the fort for a little while.”

you concede, mostly because she’s right and you don’t have the energy to argue. 

when you get to the office, you’re surprised to find the lights on. even more surprised that someone’s already there, sitting on the zebra-striped couch.

“vi?”

she jumps slightly when you say her name.

“mel texted me,” she rushes out like she’s been caught red-handed. “said she needed help with something she’d been planning.” 

you frown, until you realize why mel must have sent you here, specifically. 

you haven’t seen vi since that night at sappho’s; you’d been quite a mess after your shift, ranting to mel on the phone about how she’d been right and you should have been more careful, how you don’t know what you did that ruined whatever you and vi had, and you really don’t know what you can do to fix it.

you’re both too stubborn to reach out to the other, so it seems like mel decided to take matters into her own hands. 

“yeah, i doubt she’s coming,” you tell vi. 

“okay,” vi says, but she doesn’t move. “i, uh, i was hoping i’d run into you, though.”

“yeah?” you raise an eyebrow at vi, crossing your arms. “needed another vodka martini for your piltover princess.”

“she’s not — we’re not together.”

“oh,” you exhale. the animosity you were holding towards her evaporates, but doesn’t completely disappear. you watch her, watching you stand by the doorway. 

there are so many things you want to tell her, but you don’t even know where to start. you know that you’ve hurt her. she hurt you, too.

but, also:

you miss the cloudy blue-gray of her eyes, the scar on her upper lip. 

you miss her.

“do you wanna come sit?”

after being so far away from vi, for what feels like forever, you don’t hesitate to take her up on the offer. your knees brush together as you settle next to her on the couch, a jolt of electricity passing through your body at the contact.

“so, i admit that —”

“vi, you were right —”

both of you stop your sentences short, chuckling nervously. you each urge the other to continue, and only get caught in a similar mess:

“i fucked up,” vi blurts out.

“i lied to you,” you confess at the same time.

an awkward, unfamiliar silence hangs above you; you’re not sure what to do next. 

vi takes the leap. she tells you that mel explained everything: that you had to attend a dinner with alumni and potential donors on the same night of her championship game, but you kept it from vi since it was already a big moment for her; that you haven’t been on a real date with anyone else since september. vi apologizes for jumping to conclusions and falling back into caitlyn’s arms, shutting you out when she should have just talked to you.

you’re the girl who was her first kiss, she says. the girl who lingered in a vague memory, appeared in the fiction of her daydreams, and then suddenly became too real. 

“i like you. i really fucking like you. and if it has to be as a friend, that’s fine because i don’t want to lose you.” vi takes a shattered breath, blinking back tears. she fiddles with the ring on her index finger, anxiously bouncing her knee. you place your hand there to steady her, and she exhales. “i guess i’m just not sure….when you said you liked me that night at the restaurant….is that what you lied about?” 

vi’s practically doe-eyed, waiting for you to respond. 

you shake your head. 

“i lied when i said that i didn’t want a relationship with you,” you admit, and the hint of a smile dances across her lips. “i had this major crush on you, you know? every time you came into sappho’s….i couldn’t help it. and then you showed up here and we became friends, and then we started….well, you know the rest.”

“duh. i was there,” vi jokes, easing into her usual, playful self.  

“i can’t do the whole casual thing,” you continue, rubbing circles into her knee with your thumb. “i know we made a promise, but i just can’t, not with you. it’s like…in every other relationship i’ve been in, i was trying to run out the clock. with you, though, with us, i feel like there’s never enough time —”

vi grabs your neck and crashes her mouth onto yours before you can finish your sentence. 

you’ve kissed each other many times, in many different places, in many different ways, but never like this: like you’re both willing to break one promise if it means forging a new one.

“will you be my girlfriend, violet rose atlas?” you whisper as you pull away, lips brushing against hers.  

you start to count the freckles on her cheeks as she beams at you, pulls you into her lap.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

[bi-writes]

ghost is off limits. not just emotionally or romantically, but physically. you have seen the aftermath of when someone so much as bumps into him or brushes past his arm in a tight hallway. they learn very quickly that lieutenant riley isn't to be touched, not even a little, not at all. (18+)

ohhhh but not for the medic. your touch is clinical. necessary. ordered. ghost glares, but he does not tell you to go away when you make your way into captain price's office. it's late; they just touched down not even ten minutes ago, exhausted and burdened by an op that took a few weeks of their absence.

he smells like sweat, like grime, and you can taste the sand in the air when you take a seat next to him. even seated, he is taller than you. he takes up a ridiculous amount of space, dwarfing the office chair he sits in. you set your kit down on your captain's desk, turning to face your lieutenant.

"uhm...could you show it to me?"

he huffs in annoyance before he pulls his tactical vest over his head, tossing it onto the floor. you swallow, blinking, focusing, as he unzips the jacket he wears and lets it fall at his feet. your lips part a little as he reveals the strength of his arms, tight muscles straining against the shirt he wears and showing off the sleeve of ugly military tattoos that are sunburnt along one arm.

gorgeous, giant man, but then your eyes take interest on the nasty gash along one arm, a jagged wound that stretches nearly from shoulder to elbow. it looks angry and irritated, much like the look in his eyes.

when you put your hands on him for the first time, he flinches. not because he is in pain, but the feeling of skin against skin is so foreign, like a wound of its own. you blink up at him, soft and sweet, and you show him your hands, what you're doing with them.

"just going to clean it out and stitch you up, lieutenant. promise i won't take too long."

but he likes it. the way your soft palm cups his scarred forearm, running a cloth over the lines of blood that trace along the length to his wrist and drip onto the floor. the warm drag of your fingers pushing his skin together so you can hook the needle through and stitch him up solid and effectively. those easy, gentle strokes, threading through skin as you would hem a skirt, a pattern that you have not forgotten that is now being weaved onto his very body.

he'll wear your stitch pattern like a patch he has so dutifully earned. and you will wear his marks just the same, yes she will, the good girl that she is.

when you finish, he grunts, flexing his fist to gauge the tautness of his skin and the way the wound burns as he stretches his arm. he tilts his head to the side, glaring. your hands rest easy there, still pressed up against him, and he nods at you expectantly.

"open y'r mouth, sergeant."

and you do. because he's your lieutenant, and he has given you an order. he hikes his mask up, revealing a disgusting grin and the sharp edge of a torn lip, a face mangled beyond recognition. when he spits in your mouth, he tastes just as you expected--like sand and smoke.

"now swallow."

and you do, but not because he's your lieutenant, it's something else, something more. not afraid, but intrigued, somehow not put off, but needing sustenance.

when he crowds you in the infirmary later that night, you don't understand. you don't understand the sudden need to touch, the way he grips your ass, the nasty way he bites at your jaw and pushes your pants down your thighs and puts his cock between your thighs.

he promises he won't fuck you, promises he'll be nice this time, but it's hard to discern between reality and heaven when he lets the tip catch on your clit with every frantic stroke. you squeak with every rough thrust, pressing your ass against his pelvis as you arch your back, wanting to see his face, wanting to kiss him, wanting to make this tender and soft and a little romantic, but that isn't ghost.

ghost is mean. ghost isn't a giver, he's a taker. ghost is made of sharp edges only, broken glass on all sides, it's such a shame his cock is so nice and so big and so good, lieutenant, please, i need it--

"need more," is what you beg, even though you know he can't give it to you. you know, but he does it anyway, he slips a big hand between your thighs and opens you up, and you cry when he finally sinks deep, hoisting you up, your back tight against his chest as he learns how quiet the voices in his head are when he's so deep in your pretty, pretty pussy.

he slips another hand around your throat, baring it, giving himself room so he can bite at your neck and lick over the salt and brand you with the evidence of the reprieve he refuses to give, but you don't care, all you can do is smile.

you know his secrets now, the things he would never tell, the things he can't say out loud.

it's almost frightening that you don't really care if he has to kill you to keep you quiet.

[yeyinde]

The 141 finding out you've never had sex.

Just casually drinking, playing cards. A joke causes it to slip out.

body electric: the virgin edition

Gaz, the instigator, mutters something about not having been fucked in ages. this springs up a sudden surge of comradery, because, yeah. neither have they.

Soap's devote Catholicism (i like to imagine) leaves little room for flippant intimacy. he tries to be a good boy. key word, of course, being: tries. but the last serious relationship was years ago. back when he was grunt. he's pent up. abstinence, yeah? he holds it tight in his hand. but the thing about fists is that they're often mistaken for anger. Soap's a realist masquerading as an optimist. he knows whoever falls into his jowls next will be a MacTavish by the time he's through with them. and commitment. well. his comes at a price. a hefty one.

Ghost prefers casual flings where he doesn't have to take any clothes off. unzips his trousers, frees his cock, and then tries to pretend he's a real, flesh and blood, human. to feel something, anything, except a vacuum between hollow bones. but his tastes are peculiar. on the side of unhinged. he hasn't found the perfect body yet satiate himself with.

Price. well. with his bloody hands, he thinks he'd rather not dirty the same people he swears to protect. and divorcing at the age of 30 does that to a man, maybe. his role as a captain (an excuse in retrospect) also keeps him from unleashing his wants. the very same ones that are probably best under lock and key, anyway. it's just for the best, really. something he ought to do because the moment he has another chance to sink his teeth into someone's neck, he'll tear them apart. break them into pieces.

despite bringing it up, Gaz knows the real reason he's single is because he's pushy. he wants. so he takes. and then takes some more. more. more. until his gullet is full of the person he's obsessed with. carrying them around in his breast pocket everywhere he goes. the perfect mate. the one he can shower with unfettered affection. a deluge, in all honesty. one with the ideation to drown. biblical floods. trapped beneath him. he likes it more than he should, but. singedom, then, he supposes.

and then you roll the dice. admit, sheepishly, that, technically, you have them all beat. zero is always lesser than five, ten, twenty. but it's this misstep—zero, never—that catches their attention.

suddenly, you're not surrounded by kin but a pack of wolves. all hungry in their own ways, all starving. it just makes sense to quench their hunger with you, doesn't it? friend, ally. pretty little thing. so sweet for them. and perfectly mouldable. putty they shape to their hearts desire. the perfect mate.

Soap grips his rosary. the sign of the cross, heavenly Father and Holy Spirit, digging into his palm like the burn of a baptism. what's devotion if not pain? he cuts himself on the gold. offers blood of the sacrament to whoever might be listening, and leans in, sniffing.

Price's knuckles are white. he leans back, hidden in shadows. all you can see is spark of burning orange from his cigar as he takes mouthful after mouthful of smoke, contemplating. assessing.

"that so?" he doesn't even need to look at his Lieutenant to know that the man has gone still. too bad for you, it's not from shock.

Ghost barely holds himself back. keeps tight in his seat. fists clenching. unclenching. he has a good enough read on the people around him to see the unfiltered desire ripping across their face. scorching. but to bite, with his mouthful of jagged, seraded teeth; ones meant to rip, break, tear, would ruin you. permanently. unequivocally. and—

"wanna give it a go?" all eyes turn to Gaz, electric in his seat. eyes smouldering umbre. "i mean, you trust us the most, don't you?" us. it's stunning, he thinks, the way Gaz can weave tapestry in the air like this with just his words. one tangled like shibari binds. "and we care for you a lot. we'll be gentle. it's up to you, of course, but—"

Soap's bloody hand disappears under the table. you gasp. "yer askin' fer it, ain't ye? beggin' so pretty fer it."

"n-no, i—"

"mind your manners." Price. his voice is chiselled into char, authoritative; low. a lulling command spoken in a breath of smoke. "and don't lie, love. or i'll have to take you over my knee."

the tension is thick. Soap's arm moves, slow. deliberate. Ghost has clench his jaw to avoid bearing his teeth. snarling.

Gaz cuts it with a knife. hews compliance into your skin with a fine needle point. "it's okay. we'll take such good care'a you. make you feel so good."

your submission is a heavy thing. oppressive. the shallow dip of your chin, the blistering heat simmering under your flesh, burning right, is the prettiest fuckin' thing he's ever seen. he does clench his jaw this time. tight, tight. tight

until something pops.

"okay." you yield. head bowed. beautifully submissive.

when he looks around, catches the predatory crackle in the air. his hackles raise. immediate. instinctual. and ah, right.

it's easy to forget he's surrounded by a wild pack of stray dogs. starving ones, too.

[arixella]

Even Without Power

╰┈➤ pairing: Luffy x female! reader

a/n: : clearing my drafts 😭

summary: Captured and cuffed with sea prism stone, you and Luffy endure fear and helplessness—until the crew arrives, and Luffy unleashes his fury to protect the one thing he refuses to lose: you.

wc: 1.7k

contains: Protective!Luffy, Sea Prism Stone imprisonment, captivity angst, emotional hurt/comfort, intense tension, slow and tender post-rescue intimacy, and Luffy being dangerously furious when someone threatens you.

Your head was pounding.

The first thing you noticed was the cold stone beneath you. The second? The tight weight around your wrists.

Sea prism cuffs.

Then you heard his voice.

“(Y/N)... hey, wake up. Please.”

You opened your eyes slowly, vision blurry—but there he was. Luffy. Sitting on the ground next to you, wrists shackled just like yours, his hat hanging off one knee.

“Luffy?” you rasped.

His eyes softened instantly. “You’re okay.” His voice cracked just a little, relief pouring out like a flood. “Thank god.”

You tried to move, but the sea prism cuffs made every muscle scream. “Where…?”

“Some bastards grabbed us when we were separated from the crew,” he said through clenched teeth. “I woke up first. Tried to break the chains, but…” he held up his wrists with a bitter laugh, “I can’t even stretch.”

You glanced at him. His face was pale. His hair clung to his forehead. He was furious. But he was holding it in—for you.

And then the door creaked open.

“Well, well,” a voice drawled. A tall man with a jagged scar across his cheek strolled in, a small crew of thugs behind him. “Our little captain and his pretty friend are finally both awake.”

Luffy’s body went rigid.

“Don’t talk to them,” he said lowly.

The man smirked. “Aw, come on. We just wanna have a little fun.” He stalked toward you, eyes lingering far too long.

Luffy snarled. Actually snarled. “I said don’t touch them.”

You flinched when the man crouched beside you, brushing a finger under your chin. “They’re a cute one. What do you think, Straw Hat? You sure you wouldn’t rather trade places?”

“Don’t touch them!” Luffy bellowed, lunging against his chains. His whole body shook with rage, fists clenched so tight they were turning white. “If you lay one more finger on them—”

The man chuckled, unfazed. “What’re you gonna do? You’re powerless.”

Luffy’s eyes burned—pure fire behind them, like he was ready to kill with just his stare. “You don’t get it,” he growled. “Even if I can’t use my powers… I will still tear you apart if you hurt them.”

You felt it—his presence. Even cuffed, drained, and chained to a wall, Luffy still felt like a storm ready to break loose.

The thug paused, like he finally noticed the danger in the room. The way Luffy’s aura shifted—deadly, protective, unyielding.

“Y’know what?” the man said, standing. “Maybe we’ll just give you two a little more time to think about your situation.”

As soon as the door slammed shut, you slumped.

Luffy turned to you immediately. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No,” you whispered. “But… he scared me.”

“I won’t let him touch you again,” Luffy said fiercely, eyes locked on yours. “No matter what.”

You leaned against his shoulder. He leaned right back.

“We’re gonna get out of here,” he said softly, like a promise. “I don’t care how—I’ll find a way. I’ll protect you.”

The cell was cold, silent—except for the soft clinking of chains when either of you shifted.

You sat beside Luffy, arms brushing, wrists heavy with sea prism cuffs. Every time he glanced at you, you saw the storm still behind his eyes. He was still furious—at himself, the enemy, the cuffs. All of it.

“We’ll get out soon,” he muttered, gaze fixed on the locked door. “The crew’s gotta be looking.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “But…”

Before you could finish, the door creaked open again.

Same guy. Same smug smirk. This time? A little more confident. Like he was sure no one was coming for you.

“Well, Straw Hat. You said I shouldn’t touch them,” he said with a sneer, walking toward you, “but what’re you gonna do if I do it anyway?”

Luffy’s voice dropped into something cold. Dangerous.

“Don’t.”

But the guy just laughed—and then grabbed you by the arm, yanking you roughly toward him.

That was it.

Luffy. Lost. His. Mind.

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF THEM!”

He lunged. Full force. The chains snapped taut with the impact, but it didn’t stop him from fighting like a wild animal, dragging the entire wall if he had to, roaring with fury.

You cried out as the man shoved you against the bars, but then—

“BOOM!”

The wall behind the cell exploded.

Smoke. Dust. Screaming.

“(Y/N)!!” a voice called—Nami. Then another—Zoro. Usopp. Sanji. Robin. Brook. The crew was here.

The enemy turned just in time for Zoro to charge him, blades flashing.

Sanji darted straight to you, kicking the guy in the gut and dragging him off you.

Luffy’s cuffs clattered to the ground as Franky, with his giant hands, crushed them open. The second they were off—

Luffy didn’t move.

He didn’t even look at the enemy yet.

He rushed to you.

“(Y/N)!” He dropped to his knees in front of you, grabbing your face gently but frantically, eyes scanning every inch. “Are you hurt? Did he touch you? Tell me.”

You blinked back tears, heart hammering. “I’m okay—just bruised, I’m okay—”

He crushed you into his arms before you could finish.

“I was gonna kill him,” he mumbled against your shoulder. “I was gonna kill him if they didn’t show up. I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t protect you—”

“Luffy.” You cupped his cheek, making him look at you. “You did. You protected me the whole time. And we’re safe now.”

He exhaled shakily, nose brushing against yours, eyes still burning but softer now.

“…Okay,” he whispered. Then he turned slowly—toward the enemy.

Sanji had him on the floor. Zoro stood nearby, arms crossed.

“Don’t kill him,” Nami warned.

“I’m not gonna kill him,” Luffy said, voice flat. “But he’s gonna wish I did.”

You didn’t stop him.

Because in that moment, Luffy wasn’t just a captain. He was a storm wrapped in rubber and rage.

But before walking away, he looked back at you one last time.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, gently. “And after this… I’m not letting you out of my sight.

Hours later you were back on the Going Merry. It felt like heaven compared to that dungeon.

You were clean, bandaged, wrapped in warm clothes, and finally free of the sea prism cuffs. But the whole world still felt a little heavy.

You sat on the bed in the infirmary cabin, staring at your hands. Your wrists were sore, skin still red where the cuffs had clamped down. And your body ached, sure—but your heart ached worse.

Then the door opened quietly.

Luffy stood there, silent. His vest was off, bandages around one shoulder, and he looked... tired. Not physically, but emotionally. The kind of tired you don’t sleep off.

“Hey,” he said softly.

You smiled weakly. “Hey.”

He walked in slowly, like he wasn’t sure if he should, until you patted the bed beside you.

He sat—then instantly leaned into you, head dropping to your shoulder like a magnet. His arms wrapped around your waist tight, like he still thought someone might try to pull you away again.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he murmured.

“You didn’t even try.”

“…I didn’t wanna leave you alone.”

You reached up, running your fingers through his hair. “You saved me, Luffy. Even when we were chained up. Even when you couldn’t fight. You were still protecting me.”

His grip tightened.

“I hate that he touched you,” he mumbled, voice rough. “I hate that I couldn’t stop him. If the crew hadn’t shown up—”

“But they did.” You turned toward him, placing your hands on his cheeks. “And now I’m safe. I’m here, Luffy. With you.”

His big brown eyes met yours, vulnerable and wide. “I thought I lost you.”

You leaned your forehead against his. “You didn’t. You never will.”

He closed the tiny space between you and kissed you—soft, slow, and a little shaky. Like he needed to feel you to believe you were real.

Then he pulled back, just a little. “I’m gonna stay here tonight.”

You blinked. “In the infirmary?”

“With you,” he said, laying down right beside you and pulling the blanket over both of you. “Right here. All night. Not going anywhere.”

You smiled, letting your head rest on his chest as he curled around you.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” he mumbled sleepily.

You tucked your hand over his heart. “Good. Because I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

Outside, the ship rocked gently with the ocean.

Inside, in the quiet warmth of that cabin, Luffy held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

And this time, he wouldn’t have to fight to protect you. Because now, you were both home.

♡♡♡

© 2025 arixella | please do not plagiarize or translate any of my work without my consent.

[leyavo]

Sergeant!Reader that always checks their food thoroughly before taking a bite.

A simple white bread and ham sandwich, the captain’s knuckle prints and jagged cut telling everyone he’d made them before you all left. Huffing about how he won’t make you ungrateful bastards a snack on the next training drill. The derelict safe house, in the middle of nowhere not offering much, but a roof and brick walls. Least the bloody birds aren’t nesting in the chimney this time.

Soap and Gaz always comment about how it’s not poisoned, your eyes trailing from whatever food’s in their hand to their face.

Ghost, sees you though. How you’re checking for mould or lifting it to your nose slightly to check the smell. He remembers you returning like a bag of bones, cheeks sunken in and eyes red as you squinted at the sun. Even years later you expect whatever you’re eating to be your last your meal.

Price knows too, your lack mentality noted in your file. Christ’s sake. How you’re resourceful, can make something with barely nothing and he’s not talking about food.

The competitive streak that sees you butting heads with Soap, but it pushes both of you to get creative and get the job done. You and Gaz debate about the outcome, you thinking the worse and Gaz thinking best case scenario. You’re both able to think of multiple variables and adjust accordingly. Ghost giving his food the once over, but it’s subtle that you know yours is also good enough to eat. The lieutenant telling you to finish whatever eating before you even think of standing. Price making you all eat a meal together straight after a mission and a trip to the infirmary.

The guys slowly chipping away at your scarcity mindset. Gaz influencing your thoughts and showing you that not everything falls apart, but if it does you’ll face it together as a team. Soap teaching healthy rivalry and that you can also ask for help when you need it, at no expense to yourself. Ghost’s grounding presence reminding you that you survived and don’t have to be scared of the future. And Captain Price helping you branch out, giving you the resources to find your first flat and somewhere to call your own when not on base.

All the things you could do yourself, but it doesn’t hurt to allow some help.

[Masterlist]

[lay-z]

battered and bruised | 1/3

Synopsis: Captain Price won't tolerate you risking your life on a mission again.

Pairing: alpha!Captain John Price x fem!omega!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Omegaverse; comfort fic; humour; blood and injury; morphine/medical drug usage; fraternising; teammates/friends to lovers; dub-con; sexual/suggestive content; a/b/o dynamics; cussing; fluff (Some of these apply to upcoming parts!)

Word count: 2.2k

🖤 masterlist

Location: Hereford/UK | TF-141 HQ Date: Friday, 24/01/2025 Time: 00:37 a.m.

A door is flung open and then you’re harshly pushed and shoved, nearly sending you stumbling and crashing in your heavy boots before you barely catch yourself on the edge of a sturdy table, head spinning as your eyelids blink rapidly. 

Your sight is somewhat blurry, dust and eyeblack smudging your vision, white-speckled stars dancing and flickering in the corners of your eyes in the semi-darkness of what must be some vacant, random briefing room. 

The door slams shut behind you with more force than necessary, making the surrounding windows tremble in their frames, and then the room is filled with thick, accumulating tension as you feel Captain Price’s piercing glare on the back of your skull, his tangy scent surrounding the space, making you bristle like an animal caught in a trap. 

His voice is sharp and jagged, a combat knife slicing through heavy silence when he snaps at you: “You wanna explain that little stunt you pulled earlier, Sergeant?” 

“Oi–!” You huff, rolling your aching shoulders underneath your heavy tac gear as you turn to face him on wobbly knees; swiftly pulling your black balaclava off in one smooth motion and taking a greedy breath while tucking the fabric into an empty pocket of your cargo pants; revealing your dishevelled hair along with a thin, bleeding cut on your right cheekbone. 

“We finished the mission successfully, innit?” You counter briskly like the bloody smartass you are, though you usually never dare to adopt a tone like this with Price, not even in the privacy of twosomeness, and you gulp a gasp of air, eyes widening as you realize your mistake. 

This isn't John, your packmate and friend, but Price, your alpha superior. 

Price’s steel blue eyes darken another shade as he steps forward with a grim frown, tilting his head slightly, the look almost murderous. He stops in front of you, tips of your chunky boots touching now, before he grabs your chin with his gloved hand, lifting your bruised face up towards him. 

“You almost got yourself bloody killed, you goddamn fool!” He snarls, eyes scanning over the cut on your cheek before he lets go of you roughly. “You weren’t supposed to get that close; do you understand me? Never!” 

You tut, scrunching your nose in a small snarl like a disobedient pup baring its baby teeth at his rough manhandling, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes while your supple omega skin pounds and burns around the cut, irritated and raw. 

“Sir, I took those fuckers out efficiently, giving you and Gaz the necessary time to take out the main target–” you explain, trying to stay calm though your voice keeps wavering, “Call me a fool all you want, but you know I’m right, Captain.” 

Price growls at you as you continue to talk back to him; eyes hardening and turning to a shade of navy blue while his jaw clenches so tightly, you’re surprised it didn’t break yet. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, trying to calm himself down as his alpha pheromones turn too heady and aggressive, causing your gut to clench and your throat to tighten as you hold back a submissive whine. 

“That wasn’t part of the bloody plan, and you know it, Sergeant! Shouldn’t you be better at following orders by now? Ya could’ve gotten yourself–” He stops mid-sentence, his buff chest deflates with a rushed exhale, lids narrowing and zeroing in on the gnarly cut and bruises on your face once more. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath and the roughness in his voice makes you shiver in your boots before he reaches up with both hands to cup your face this time, gentler and tenderly; thick thumb lightly brushing away coagulated blood, making you wince and flinch, and melt simultaneously. 

“That needs to be taken care of, dove,” he says much quieter, his anger now replaced with worry as his frown softens and the wrinkle between his brows smoothens out. 

A tingling sensation spreads over your face, making it feel hot beneath his touch, like someone tugging on your hair so tightly, your skin is pulled taut while the tips of daggers are wrenched into your eye sockets, prodding at your brain and scraping inside your skull. The sudden pain makes you dizzy and sway.  

Time slows down for you, crawling along like thick tar, though, it merely takes seconds. 

With fluttering lashes, your eyes flicker up to stare blankly at his ruggedly handsome, dirty face; pain and adrenaline lowering your inhibitions and qualms, all reason melting from your brain and running out of your ears in an instant as you catch another whiff of his alpha scent. 

Cold bones covered in rich dark chocolate, wrapped in ripe tobacco leaves and presented to you. 

“Sergeant?” 

Swallowing down a mouthful of foamy saliva, your black pupils dilate as your wide doe-eyes flit down to stare at his lips as John speaks up again, and in a moment of weakness, your omega instincts manage to slither from your grasp despite the strong suppressants you take religiously and you reach out to clutch and curl your gloved fingers into the front of his tac vest to pull him to your level for a rash, first kiss. 

John freezes the second your soft lips connect with his; initial clumsiness balanced by raw fervency make his chest rumble with a pleased growl, and he finds himself kissing you back for a second, fingers carding through your hair and cupping the back of your neck, applying some pressure; sighing as he finally gets that ardently longing taste of you before his brain screeches to a halt; duty and regulations forcing him to act and contain his alpha nature, to be the reasonable one again. 

He pulls back with a sharp curse, lips smacking and stealing another peck before a string of saliva connects his bottom lip to yours. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He breathes harshly, uncurling his mammoth hands from you reluctantly before stepping backwards, running a hand through his short, brown hair in frustration. “Bloody Christ, Sergeant,” he huffs, “–you’re not... We’re not supposed to–What are we doing here, huh?” 

The feeling of his lips on yours, the taste of him melting on your tongue like hard candy, bursting on your tastebuds, and his beard scratching your sensitive skin, was enough to distract you from the throbbing pain and fuzziness in your head momentarily, though now it’s hitting you again full force. 

Inhaling a sharp breath through clenched teeth, your eyes widen as you stammer for an answer: “I–I–I’m–” you stutter, heart now hammering in your throat as your ears start ringing. “I’m sorry! I–I don’t know–ah!” 

You wince as you pinch the bridge of your nose harshly, and John can merely stare and watch you struggle to speak while his heartrate increases, strong muscle slamming into his ribcage underneath his layers of gear and clothing; both thoughts and emotions all over the place uncharacteristically after you’d kissed him without so much than a friendly premonition. 

Then, he steps forward again, pushing your hips back against the sturdy table behind you, large hands grasping the front of your tac vest more desperate than he’d like to admit. “You’re sorry?” He repeats in disbelief. “You kiss your superior just like that and you’re bloody sorry, Sergeant?” 

“Y-Yes, sir. I–ah... Fuck,” you curse and groan, squeezing your eyes shut as the splitting headache worsens; barely registering the way John has grabbed you by the shoulders now. “Please–” you whine, unable to keep the pathetic sound concealed this time while you reach out to get a hold of his strong forearms, finding purchase against the table as you lean back.  

As soon as your soft whine is torn from your delicate throat, alarm bells go off inside the Captain’s head as he ignores the pleasant shudder running down his spine and focuses on the need to protect and take care of you blossoming behind his ribcage instead.  

“How are you feeling?” He asks, eyes filled with worry as he witnesses you practically falling apart in front of him and not knowing why is driving him mad already. “Jesus, you look like you’re gonna pass out any second now, dove.”  

Wrapping an arm tightly around your waist despite the bulky gear covering both your bodies, John pulls your smaller frame as close as he can get you; securing you against him. “Let me help you, okay? I’m taking you to the medbay. Just breathe for me and calm down. We can’t risk you getting sick–” 

You feel even weaker in the knees now, but you manage to loop your arms around his neck somehow while you take eager little sniffs of his calming scent at this proximity, and as soon as John notices you trying to seek out his comfort, he swiftly unzips his combat jacket and tugs at the tight collar of his compression shirt to expose more of his scent to you, mumbling to himself. “Damn it, honey, why is my life never easy with you?”  

A pleasant tingle runs down the length of his spine when the tip of your nose grazes along the curve of his neck cutely, narrowly missing his sensitive scent gland as you breathe in his scent, and John’s jaw clenches while his mind short-circuits at the featherlight contact. He should be able to resist it, being an experienced SAS Captain and all that, but he’s slowly realizing how powerless he is when you’re all submissive and vulnerable for him like this. 

“Hit my head... pretty badly when–when I grappled and–an' took out that ah... one bloke,” you explain in a muttered murmur while John hums affirmingly and starts leading you out of the briefing room, down the long hallway towards the nearest elevator, making you lean heavily against him with his arm curled around your waist below your vest. His jaw is clenched tightly, his face set in a frown once more as he tries to keep his simmering anger at bay. 

Given the chance, he’d rip that fellow apart with his bare hands. 

Pulled away from his violent thoughts, his attention shifts again when the bright fluorescent lights along the ceiling crackle and switch on automatically, filling the eerie silence inside the building at this hour, and causing you to groan pitifully as you squeeze your eyes shut immediately. “Ouch... Please, make them stop!” You mewl before twisting and turning your face to bury into his shoulder for protection like a lost, helpless kitten, and John feels something else stir in his chest, something heavy and warm that slows him down. 

“You hit your head, and you didn’t tell anyone?” He hisses, though it’s lacking harshness, and he gently pushes his hand into your hair, along the side of your head until his fingers shield over your temple as he tries to block out some of the light. “Fuck me, Sergeant, you’re too bloody stubborn, ya muppet.” 

He’s never truly witnessed you acting like an omega; always too guarded, too stoic and professional; constantly drugged up with military issued suppressants and scent blockers while the knowledge about that has always sort of peeved your alpha teammates, including John himself, leaving them worried and itching to order having you to throw them away recklessly, make you go natural, knowing each of them would more than willingly take care of you. 

Almost subconsciously, John leans in and sniffs your hair; catching a slight whiff of your scent, though it’s still heavily suppressed, and he swallows down the rumble in his chest, ignoring the flutter in his stomach as he thinks back on that kiss. “And we’re gonna have a long discussion about that kiss, too, when you stop being so bloody delirious.” 

With another breathy whine of pain, you practically curl into his side, holding on tightly despite his cussing and scolding; despite him being your superior. “Don’t cuss at me,” you whimper, nuzzling your face into his shoulder as he keeps guiding you towards the elevator that will take you down to the medbay. “I’m sorry... for the kiss, John.” 

John croons lowly in his chest as you apologize, trying to soothe your pain and distress. He hates that he can’t smell you, which means he can’t read you properly; it's like trying to read the most interesting novella through a veil. And he hates your apology, too, not wanting to hear it.  

He huffs sharply as he adjusts his grip around your waist, stopping in front of the closed elevator doors before pushing the button for it with his free hand. “Don’t talk back to me, you little brat.” John straightens and grumbles half-heartedly, trying to keep his professional demeanour up here out in the open around HQ, though the smallest smile tugs at the corner of his mouth when your soft snicker reaches his ears. 

The elevator doors open with the faintest gust of wind, and he catches another whiff of your scent, though– 

His heart drops into a pit as he freezes, pupils dilating instantly.  

A bouquet of wildflowers, resting on a pile of fresh white linens, surrounded by an assortment of candied fruits; succulent, soft, and utterly saccharine.  

[inseobts]

In the Shadow

Trafalgar Law x fem!Strawhat!Reader + Eustass Kidd x fem!Strawhat!Reader (not really but could be implied)

Reader power explained: Chaos Magic (like Scarlet Witch from Avengers), aka telekinesis, telepathy, and energy manipulation.

Tags: wano arc spoilers, love triangle, blood, fluff

Masterlist // ko-fi

The battlefield in Wano was chaos, flames and smoke rising into the blood-red sky. The rumble of Kaido’s forces clashing with the samurai and pirates was deafening, but you stood your ground on a jagged cliff overlooking the chaos.

Beside you, Trafalgar Law stood stoically, though his exhaustion was evident. His breathing was shallow, and blood dripped from a cut, but he refused to lean on anyone for support.

“Don’t move!” you snap, crouching beside him where he leaned. His hand pressed to the wound, blood pooling through his fingers. He looks at you with his silver eyes, sharp even through his pain.

“I’m not your responsibility, Y/N-ya” he muttered.

“Shut up.” Your words come out harsher than intended, but you don’t care. “I can’t just leave you to bleed out!”

He smirks faintly. “You’re a Strawhat. You should be chasing your captain, not wasting your time on me.”

“You’re an ally now.” Your voice wavered, betraying more emotion than you wanted. “I’m not going anywhere until you’re safe.”

Law looks away, the tension in his jaw softening for just a moment. It isn’t like him to let anyone fuss over him, but something in the way you hovered told him it was useless to argue.

You worked quickly, tearing a strip of fabric from your shirt to bind the wound. “You know,” you say, trying to fill the silence, “for a brilliant tactician, you’ve got a real knack for getting yourself nearly killed.”

“Funny” Law says after a small chuckle.

After a few seconds of silence, an all-too-familiar voice cut through the tense air.

“Oi, Strawhat girl! Didn’t think you’d be babysitting him of all people.”

You turn, meeting Eustass Kidd’s cocky grin as he walks toward you. Despite the chaos of the battlefield, he looks annoyingly composed.

“Kidd,” you say, voice laced with exasperation. “What do you want?”

“Nothing much,” Kidd replies, stopping a few feet away and crossing his arms. “Just wondering why you’re babysitting him when you could be out there kicking more ass.” He nods toward Law with a smirk. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to play nursemaid. Guess the surgeon isn’t as invincible as he thinks.”

“Say that again, and I’ll carve you into pieces” Law growls, though his voice lacked its usual menace.

Kidd laughs, crouching beside you with an infuriatingly amused expression. “Relax, doc. She’s got it covered. Right, Y/N?”

You sigh. Kidd’s presence is a double-edged sword—helpful, sure, but he never knows when to stop pushing buttons.

“We don’t have time for this” you mutter, tying off the bandage around Law’s wound.

“Hey, I could carry him if you want” Kidd offers, his grin widening when Law shot him a murderous glare.

“As if I’d let you.”

“Oh? Afraid I’d drop you on purpose?” Kidd teases, standing back up and stretching. “You should be thanking me for offering to help your girlfriend.”

Your face burning, “He’s not…”

“She’s not…” Law cut in at the same time.

Kidd’s laughter echoes, “You two are pathetic.”

But before you could fire back, a distant explosion shook the ground beneath your feet. You all turn toward the palace in the distance, where Luffy and the others are undoubtedly making their stand.

You stood, determination hardening your features. “We need to move.”

You are now at Law’s side, wrapping an arm around him to steady him. He stiffened but didn’t pull away, too proud to admit he needs the support at least until his wound would heal a bit.

Kidd raises an eyebrow, clearly biting back another remark. But this time, he says nothing, merely watching as you help Law.

Later, after the fighting died down, the allied forces regrouped at the ruins of the performance floor. The surviving fighters gathering to tend their wounds and plan the next move.

“You didn’t have to save me back there” Law says quietly, breaking the silence.

“Don’t be stupid” you reply, staring out at the sea. “Of course I did.”

He stays silent for a long moment. Then, almost too softly to hear: “You’re too kind for your own good.”

You turn to him, frowning. “And you’re too stubborn to admit you care about anyone.”

For once, he doesn’t argue.

From a distance, you hear Kidd’s voice as his crew prepare their ship for the next adventure.

“Hey, Strawhat girl!” he calls. “Try not to get yourself killed before I see you again.”

You roll your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Why tomorrow don’t you try saying goodbye without the insults” you shot back.

Kidd grins, a glint of something unspoken in his eyes, before turning away.

You feel Law’s gaze on you.

“You really attract the strangest people” he murmures.

You laugh softly, leaning back against the railing. “Takes one to know one, doesn’t it?”

Law doesn’t respond, but the faintest smile plays at the corners of his lips.

For now, it is enough.

Everyone is now enjoying the celebration, the air filled with laughter, food, and the occasional argument over meat.

You sit cross-legged a bit farther from your friends, jocking with your powers. Threads of energy between your fingers, forming intricate shapes that shimmered.

“Hey, Y/N!” Luffy bouces over, eyes wide with excitement. “Make something big this time! Like… a dragon like Momo!”

You smirk, twisting your fingers in sharp, deliberate motions. A glowing construct of Momonosuke’s dragon form coiled into existence above your hands, its fiery eyes flicking toward Luffy.

“Whoa! So cool!” Luffy reaches out to touch it, but the dragon snaps at his hand, dissolving just before contact.

“Careful,” you tease “It bites.”

Luffy laughs, unfazed, and then goes off to wrestle more food.

From across, you hear Kidd’s voice booming over the din.

“Still playing with your little magic tricks, Y/N?” he says with a grin plastered across his face.

You roll your eyes, “Jealous I can make things without smashing half the town?”

The crews burst into laughter as Kidd scowles, though a small smirk tugged at his lips.

Zoro observes the scene while drinking, “She might make you disappear next.”

“Like I’d let her” Kidd shoots back, crossing his arms.

“Should I prove it?” you say, standing and letting threads of energy crackle around your hands.

Before things could escalate, Law’s voice cut through the noise.

“Enough” His tone is calm but firm, the kind of voice that demanded attention.

You turn to see him standing with his arms crossed with his usual stoic expression. But there is something different in his eyes, something that makes your heart skip.

His gaze locks on you as he says “Don’t waste your power on pointless shows.”

Everyone stops drinking and laughing and went quiet, turning to watch the exchange. You feel a flicker of irritation rise in your chest, you drank a bit too much for this.

“It’s not pointless, I’m just having fun.”

“Fun gets people killed” Law replies evenly.

“You’re so dramatic” you say as your temper flared, and before you could stop yourself, you raise a hand. A surge of energy lashes out, wrapping around Law’s hat and yanking it from his head.

The entire crowd froze again.

Law’s expression darkens, and you could see the faintest twitch in his jaw.

“You’ve got three seconds to give that back” he says, his voice dangerously low.

You twirl the hat in your hand, smirking: “Make me.”

Gasps erupt from the crews. No one ever challenged Trafalgar Law like that—at least, not without regretting it.

But instead of retaliating, Law surprises everyone. He steps closer, closing the distance between you, until he was inches away. His eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Then, in a move so swift you almost didn’t see it, he snatches the hat from your hand and place it back on his head.

“You’re impossible” he says, turning to walk away.

“Aw, is that your way of saying you like me?” you tease, your grin widening.

Law stops in his tracks, his back to you. The crews erupted into laughter and cheers, but you barely hear them over the pounding of your own heart.

When Law finally turns, his face was unreadable, but there is a faint flush on his cheeks.

“Maybe” he says quietly, so only you can hear. Then, louder: “But if you pull a stunt like that again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The crew’s laughter grew louder, and you can’t help but laugh too, the tension between you and Law dissipating in an instant.

“Guess I’ll have to keep you on your toes, then” you say, your voice light.

Law shake his head, but there is a small smile on his lips as he walks away, the crews still hollering behind him.

And from the other side, Kidd watched the exchange with a scowl.

“Idiots” he mutter, but there was no mistaking the jealousy in his eyes.