#chapter six

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Love Bites

Love Bites, Chapter 6 // Love Bites {Masterlist}

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Summary: Astarion remembers you, but it's already too late. He's bedded you and remembered the love and life you had together, two hundred years ago, and now he has to make a choice. Does he sacrifice himself, or does he sacrifice you?

Word Count: 9,455

Warnings: 18+, last night alive vibes, Astarion's memory gaps, being gentle with each other, Astarion anticipates being used but is not, vampire bite, mentions of Astarion's sexual abuse (non-con oral), therapeutic talking, reader is protective of Astarion, Astarion's bad at vocalizing his emotions, love confessions, anxiety, putting each other in danger

18+ Warnings: consensual sex, explicit smut, touching, easing into intimacy, oral (m & f receiving), masturbation (m), vaginal sex, consent & check-ins, loving sex, clit stimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, cum eating, aftercare

Note: Astarion does talk at length about the sexual abuse he's been through (not a lot of it is detailed), so please take care of yourselves as usual and don't read if you're not comfortable!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Astarion clung to your arm the entire walk back to your house. You leaned into him, at first surprised by the lack of body heat but seeming to enjoy his grip on you nonetheless. Instinctively, you put your arm through his and rested your head against his shoulder. He hesitantly placed a soft kiss on the top of your head and you hummed happily. 

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered to him. 

Astarion hesitated, wanting to return the sentiment but unsure if he should; he had spent the past two hundred years—or most of them, at least—not remembering you. But when you looked up at him with a soft smile, the words tumbled out, an absolute necessity to say, “I missed you, too. Even if I didn’t know it, I…I did.”

You smiled at him, soft and gentle, like you knew exactly what he was referring to, like you knew he had felt a hollow absence for all these years he hadn’t realized was there until you filled it again. 

There was a glint in your eye that Astarion was pleased to recognize. He bent just enough to let you kiss his cheek. The two of you both smiled the minute your lips touched his skin. 

You gave directions as the two of you walked, telling him when to turn and which way, until you came to a stop at a door. It was illuminated by a golden lamp, spilling over its lovely emerald green paint. The color was like a burst of life against Astarion’s eyes, vibrant against the blacks and greys of his Darkvision. 

The door did not hold the same familiarity as you did. He glanced at you as you unlooped your arms and slid a key into the lock. “Is this…where we lived?”

“No,” you said, glancing back at him. “Your parents still live in that house. Our bedroom’s untouched, though. The bed still unmade, curtains still closed… It’s as it was when you left for work that morning.”

Pain split through his heart. “My parents are still alive?” You stopped, almost shocked, and turned to him with your mouth slightly open. Before you could speak, he barreled on, “They still live in the same house?”

You glanced up at the sky, likely trying to gauge how much time you had left. You pushed the door open and gently guided him inside as you answered, “Yes. They found it too painful to leave. Your… Your mother said leaving it would feel like selling all that was left of you to a stranger.” You were quiet for a moment. You began lighting the wicks of candles, revealing a kitchen. “I still go back sometimes. To sit in our room. Every so often I sit on the roof like we used to. And, uh…your parents don’t know this, but I’ve been slowly sneaking away pieces of your clothes. It’s…comforting to have them near me, even if I’m terrified that by wearing them too long I’ll lose your scent.”

Astarion felt like he’d been struck by lightning. His family was alive. His family was alive, had been these past two hundred years, and they still loved him. “My mother…” he whispered, tears gathering in his eyes.

You paused in your lighting. “Asty? Are you alright?”

His lower lip trembled. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t know they were still… Do they miss me?”

You came over to him and wrapped your arms around him. “They miss you very much, darling. There hasn’t been a day when your mother has not spoken of you, or a day that your father has not stared at your painting.” You looked up at him. “There has not been a day where any of us do not wish to change what happened that day. To prevent you from going to work. To get you home faster. To convince you to take a different route home. Anything to keep you alive and with us.”

I’m still loved. They love me.

He bit his lower lip. “I wish I could see them again.”

“Perhaps one day you will,” you said. “Perhaps we’ll find a way out.”

Astarion smiled bitterly. “Cazador will take that optimism from you.”

You studied him for a moment, clearly wanting to argue. But instead you just gave him your hand and whispered to him, “Come with me, love.”

A nervousness filled his chest. “I don’t want to do this to you… I don’t want to lose you.”

You cupped his cheeks and pressed your forehead together. Your thumbs smoothing over his cheeks comforted him in a way he never remembered feeling before—but surely you must have done this a thousand times, with the practiced way you touched him. “You aren’t losing me. And you aren’t the one hurting me, darling. It’s your master who has done this to us both.”

Astarion shuddered. “Don’t speak of him. Not here. Not when we’re about to…” He bit his lip. “Not when I can have you again.”

You nodded and kissed his forehead. He leaned into it, some of the tension in his shoulders draining away. “I won’t.” You began walking him out of the kitchen, leading him up a set of stairs. “This way, love.”

Nervous in a way he didn’t ever remember being, Astarion followed you up the stairs. He glanced around the humble dwelling you had made your home—covered in paintings and tapestries and knickknacks that made it homey and welcoming—safe. It felt lived in, contrary to many of the homes of nobility he had found himself in time and time again. It wasn’t something he would have ever designed himself, at least not as he was now, but he liked it anyway. 

The door to your bedroom was open. It was a cozy, open room that felt familiar enough for him to pause at the threshold.

You noticed. “I may have designed it to be similar to our old bedroom. It was comforting.”

Astarion’s eyes scanned the room: a large bed in the middle, covered in soft blankets and piled with pillows, a circular rug underneath it, a mirror on the wall next to your wardrobe. Your desk was covered with paints and powders and pieces of jewelry similar to what you wore now. 

“I like it,” he said quietly. “I… We lived in a place like this?”

You nodded, sitting in the chair at your desk. He watched you take off your jewelry and take your hair down. “Our bedroom had a different color scheme and it was a little bit bigger. We had a washroom connected to it and two wardrobes—yours was bigger than mine. And we had a balcony we used to sit on late at night. But we shared a desk and I wore your clothes more often than I wore mine.” You smiled at him. “You used to tease me that if you couldn’t find one of your shirts, it was either in my wardrobe or on my body.”

You stood and closed the curtains of the two windows that let moonlight stream into the room. Darkness fell for a moment and Astarion watched your dim figure move to one side of the bed. You struck a match and an oil lamp flared to life. 

“Simpler than magic,” you explained. Then the two of you stared at each other. 

Astarion didn’t know where to start. He knew how to manipulate his victims into bed with him nearly every night. He knew what to say, how to move, when to smile, when to make the approach. But with you in front of him, suddenly all his best tricks seemed useless. 

You cocked your head to the side, noticing his hesitation. “Astarion?”

“I don’t know where to start,” he whispered. 

“Then let me?” you suggested. He nodded. 

You removed your apron and draped it over the back of the chair. You reached around behind you and loosened the strings of your corset, slipping it off after a moment. It wasn’t exactly graceful, but the movement still made Astarion’s throat tighten. Somehow, your movements—unpracticed for two hundred years—were more alluring than the nobles Cazador made him bed or the unfortunate virgins tripping over themselves to have him. 

It’s because it’s you, he knew. You weren’t just alluring—you were comforting. His body was strangely present, strangely here, as you undressed for him. 

You pulled off your skirt and left yourself in a poet shirt similar to the one Astarion himself had worn until it fell apart and then sewn back together time and time again. You glanced up at him for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. Astarion nodded eagerly, taking a step closer to you. So you pulled the shirt up over your head and stood before him.

Your undergarments were made of delicate lace. Automatically, Astarion reached out to touch them—touch you—then hesitated, looking into your eyes, suddenly afraid his instinct had been wrong.

But you only stepped forward and guided his hand to the fabric covering your chest. His touch seemed to arrest you for a moment before you stuttered out, “You gave them to me. The set was an anniversary gift. Somehow I knew when I dressed this morning I wanted this piece of you close to me.”

Warmth bloomed in the pit of his stomach—arousal, actual arousal, not the response he had forced himself to have when his victims got naked. He felt himself stir in his leathers.

Astarion let his fingers trail over the edge of the lace. Your eyes fluttered closed, your breaths coming in heaves. “Well, I…had good taste.”

You touched his chest, fingers trailing over the gold embroidery of his doublet. “You still do, darling.” You let out a heavy, pleased sigh. “Oh, gods, Astarion, please. Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he breathed desperately, leaning into you. “Yes.”

You stood on your tiptoes; he bent down. As your lips touched, his arms looped around your waist and settled there, holding you against him. Your lips were soft, gentle, welcoming. You let him take the next step instead of forcing it. It was a kindness he wasn’t sure you knew was a kindness. 

He sucked your lower lip between his. You whined softly and then tried to pull away, clearly embarrassed by your need for him, but it brought a smile to his face. He chased your lips and brought one hand to rest between your shoulder blades, guiding you back to him. He kissed you again, softly at first, then licked your lip, asking for more. You obliged him with a slight smile of your own. 

Your tongues slid together, both of you careful of his fangs. After all these years, Astarion had gotten good at hiding them, even during a kiss—but he didn’t feel the need to hide them from you, only keep your tongue away from them.

One of your hands slid into his hair. He tensed momentarily, bracing for an unrelenting tug, but you only scratched his scalp with your nails. He relaxed against you, falling deeper into the kiss. 

When you parted, it was slow, both of you reluctant to part from each other. Your chest was heaving, your breasts straining pleasantly against the delicate lace. Astarion’s eyes dropped to the sight, mesmerized for several moments. Then he looked back up at you with a smile on your face. 

“I missed you,” you breathed. “I’ve missed that.” You toyed with his collar absentmindedly. But your eyes were fixed on his, clear and resolute, some concern clouding your blown pupils. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “More than alright. You… You’re so gentle with me.”

“Is that what you want?” 

Quickly, he nodded again, almost desperate this time. He didn’t really want to explain the sudden tears that rushed to his eyes, but judging from the heartbreak he saw in yours, you had guessed his reasoning. 

“Then gentle we will be,” you promised. “Soft. Sweet. Slow. Like our old mornings.” Your fingers found the clasps of his doublet. “May I…?”

“You may,” he said, unbearably happy that you had asked. The feeling grew stronger as you carefully undid each clasp, rather than ripping them apart so fast and so hard that he had to fix them when the night was over. He reached up to help you undress him. 

You took the time to ask him before you removed any clothes. You took the time to admire him as skin was revealed. You took the time to kiss him when he hesitantly asked for it. You took the time to wait when you saw his uncertainty, holding him and stroking his hair. 

Is this what it feels like to be loved? 

When Astarion was left standing in only his boxers, you gently led him to the bed. You hooked your fingers into his waistband and met his eyes. Before you could even ask, he whispered, “Pull them off.”

You smiled at him and did so, your touch still light. You spared his half-hard cock only a glance as you stood back up and met his gaze. Astarion could still see the want in your eyes. But instead of doing what you wanted with him, you turned and said over your shoulder, “Would you like to take mine off?”

“Yes,” he whispered, lifting his hands to undo the clasps of your bra. He slipped the straps off your shoulders after you turned back around to him. He let himself admire your breasts as they were exposed before he dropped his hands to your hips and removed your panties in one graceful move that seemed to surprise you. 

“You were always good, but you’re better at this than I remembered,” you said by way of explanation, your cheeks turning pink. “You were always so shy when you undressed me, no matter how many times you had been inside me.”

For some reason, he felt guilty. “I’m sorry I changed.”

You shook your head, cupping his cheek. “Don’t apologize. Not for that. We’ve all changed. We would have changed whether you had died or not.” Your gaze drifted back down his body appreciatively, then to his cock. 

Skin crawling with self-consciousness, familiar from times having to improvise to explain away the struggle to get hard (especially without being able to explain how little blood he actually had in his body), but stronger now that it was you looking at the weakness that took away from the one thing he was good for, Astarion explained, truthfully for the first time, “I can’t get hard right away, not without blood and…and he starves us. Once we actually start, I can do more, but—”

You put your finger to his lips and lay on the bed. “Will it hurt?”

Astarion blinked at you. “What?”

“Your bite. Will it hurt?”

For a moment, it didn’t process what you meant. Then— “You want me to feed from you?”

You nodded. “I’m more than willing to work you up myself if you’d prefer, but…I’ll admit I’m curious. Besides…you finally have someone who knows what you are and loves you anyway. Bite me. Feed the only time you can.”

Astarion stepped closer to the bed, his hunger rearing its head. “Are you sure you want me to?”

You nodded and gestured him closer to you and, after a single moment’s deliberation that ended with the sole thought of, Fuck it!, Astarion crawled over you. You smiled up at him with a fond amazement. He grinned. “You’ve seen this view before, haven’t you?”

“Often,” you said. “I dreamt of this nearly every night. It’s almost hard to believe you’re right here… I half-suspect I’ll wake up in the morning and none of this will have happened.”

Astarion bent and began peppering your neck with soft kisses. Your blood smelled sweet, pumping through your veins with strength. “Believe me, darling, this is very, very real…”

You craned your neck, exposing the column of your throat to him. Astarion pressed his nose to your pulse point and breathed in deeply. He moaned, his whole body shuddering. You put your hand back in his hair, scratching softly. “Please…” you whispered, and all of Astarion’s restraint snapped.

He drew back enough to bare his fangs and sink them into your throat. You gasped sharply. He would have asked if you were alright if your blood did not suddenly fill his mouth, sweet and tangy and heavy all at once. He swallowed and instantly felt the difference. Bugs and rats were enough to keep him functional, surviving—this was enough to let him live. 

The next few pulls of blood had you whimpering pleasantly and warmth filling his body. Strength returned to his muscles with every mouthful and his chest began to move with the illusion of breathing. He became aware of the throbbing need in his cock and began grinding on your thigh. Your responding gasp quickly became a moan and your arms tightened around him.

Somehow, Astarion knew the exact moment that you had become equals again; he had taken half your blood and any more would kill you. In fact, any more and he would be too drunk on it to stop himself from killing you. 

Drain her. Drink her dry and go back to Cazador with enough strength to escape him.

The thought terrified him. He pulled away from you quickly, your blood dripping down his chin and onto your chest. He licked the open wounds of your neck clean of blood before he sat back and stared down at you.

You were paler than you had been when he started, but your eyes fluttered open and you reached up weakly to wipe the thin trail of blood away from the corner of his mouth. You offered him your thumb and he sucked it into his mouth without thinking, licking the blood from your skin. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing a hand through your hair.

You nodded. “A little woozy, but I’ll live.”

Astarion decided not to tell you how close you had come to not living. “What did it feel like?”

You paused, thinking. Eventually, you said, “Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It was…intimate. Magical. It was ecstasy in a form I’ve never felt before. Pain that turned into pleasure. I felt…connected with you more wholly than ever before. We always said we were one when we had sex, but that…that was being one.” You met his gaze again and breathed out one word: “Wonderful.”

Astarion couldn’t help it; he kissed you needily, pressing his entire body to yours. You responded willingly, even when the kiss turned into a tight hug that allowed him to hide his face in your shoulder so you wouldn’t see his tears. 

Eventually, you tapped his shoulder. “Sit on the edge of the bed, darling.”

A tingle of anticipation raced up Astarion’s spine—clearly his body remembered what you were going to do, even if he did not. You slid to your knees and spread his legs apart far enough to get between them. He tried to hide his shock; you wanted to pleasure him? Time and time he had been forced onto his knees and made to take a cock in his mouth, but he couldn’t remember the last time someone had done it for him… In fact, you were probably the last person to have done it, years and years ago.

“Darling, you don’t have to—”

You looked up at him. “Do you want me to?”

His chest tightened. “Yes,” he whispered.

You smiled slightly. “Then let me pleasure you, Asty.”

“Okay,” he breathed, his chest heaving with phantom breaths as he watched you lean in. You kissed the base of his cock and a quiet whine escaped him. You dragged your tongue up his length and kissed his tip before you took him into your mouth. He threw his head back, groaning. His eyes fluttered as you sucked gently, licking the underside of his cock every so often. Occasionally you popped off of him to kiss up and down his length and the sensitive area around it.

“Look at me,” you breathed. He did as you asked and you went back down on him, holding eye contact with him. He whimpered and bit his lower lip, muffling the sound. You made a face. “Let me hear you, Astarion.”

His answer was a whine as you licked a stripe along the underside of him. He brought his hand to your head and held you as you licked and kissed him. It didn’t take long for him to give into the pleasure; he began to mumble in Elvish to you until the words couldn’t roll off his tongue anymore and began coming out as moans, both low- and high-pitched. Some part of Astarion was deeply embarrassed by his sounds—but he knew now if he tried to hide them, you’d stop, and, gods above, that was the last thing he wanted. But you didn’t let up again and before he could stop himself or even warn you, he was cumming down your throat. 

And you let him. You pulled off of him only when you were sure he was spent. He flopped onto his back, panting heavily. A thrill went up his spine as he watched you swallow his spend, crawling up on his body to join him on the bed.

“That was… Hells, that was good,” he groaned as you laid next to him, getting perfectly cozy against his blood-warmed body. “How did you…?”

“You taught me,” you reminded him with a laugh. “How else did you think I knew exactly what you liked?”

“You could just have really good instincts,” he said, rolling onto his side to kiss you. He cradled you in his arms, holding you as tightly against his body as he could. You melted into his hug readily.

You pulled away for a moment and just stared at him, your eyes peering into his like you could see his soul. A little nervous, Astarion just watched you, taking in the way your eyes roamed over his face and how your lips easily came up into a happy, satisfied smile.

“What?” he whispered when the love on your face was almost too much to bear.

“Nothing,” you said. Then you shook your head. “Well, it’s not nothing. I…never thought I’d see your face again. Not really, not outside of my dreams. So I’m just… I’m glad to have you back.” You reached up and trailed your fingers across his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch. 

Slowly, Astarion began to return the favor, running his fingers across your body. He watched the way you shuddered beneath his touch, paid attention to when you giggled, noticed when your eyes fluttered shut and your body relaxed. He felt like he was learning how you ticked, but there was something about every movement you made that was almost painfully familiar. He had done this to you before, likely thousands of times, and had enjoyed squeezing your hips in his hands and groping your breasts and kissing every available inch of your skin.

“How many times?” he breathed against your sternum, pausing as he kissed down your body. You hummed and he clarified: “How many times did we do this?”

Your eyes were closed, your face the picture of contentment. “You mean the sex or the touching?”

“Touching.”

“Every night,” you answered. “Every night before we went to bed, whether we were naked or not, whether we had sex or not, we would do this. We’d cuddle and kiss and caress each other until one of us fell into trance or sleep, whatever we decided to do that night.”

“Gods,” he whispered. “I… I didn’t realize it, but I missed it. I think.”

You hesitated for a moment. Then you whispered, “I thought you did this every night.”

“Almost every night,” he corrected. “And…never like this. Never soft. Never gentle. Never…loving. It’s always rough and demanding, brutal.” He glanced at you, expecting criticism, but your face was open. There wasn’t a hint of jealousy that he slept with other people, nor anger that he was complaining about getting laid nightly when you had spent the years alone. So he continued. “I wake up sore and sometimes bleeding in places I didn’t know I could bleed from.”

You curled your arms around him protectively. “Oh, Asty… Love, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said quickly.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad for you,” you insisted. 

Disagreement coiled in Astarion’s belly, but he didn’t voice it, instead laying his head against your chest. He sighed happily when you began to scratch your fingers through his scalp. He remained like that for a few minutes before the words began to tumble out of him, slowly at first, then gaining momentum and—to his surprise—anger.

“It’s not always…random people from taverns. Sometimes he’ll…assign me victims. I’ll be sent to them. Nobles, mostly, who he wants for his thralls. Sometimes he sends them back out into the world to do his bidding, not keeping them the way he keeps me or my siblings, or draining them into dry, mummified corpses like most of the people I bring back for him. But if I don’t bring them back in the single night he gives me— Well. I’d be scarred horribly if vampires didn’t heal quickly, and even then, I don’t heal as quickly as I should so sometimes I go out the next night still wrapped in dirty cloth for bandages, bleeding through them, expected to bring home yet another meal.” 

Astarion paused long enough for you to have a quick interjection. “You have siblings?” 

“Of a sort. There are six others. Six spawn he made to do his bidding.”

“And are you all expected to…fetch your victims the same way?”

Astarion shook his head. “No. Yousen’s a gnome, for gods’ sake, who’s going to sleep with a gnome and not a handsome creature such as myself?”

You rolled your eyes. “There are plenty of people who find gnomes attractive, even if you don’t,” you chastised. 

He sighed. “But you get my point. He made his spawn from people with…different talents, so to speak, to bring in his meals. But if we fail, we all get treated the same way. Beaten. Bitten. Used. He…he does it to me more than the others. I’m his favorite to torture.”

“You mentioned that,” you murmured, touching his ear gently. His cock twitched with pleasure and he gasped. You froze. “Do you want me to stop?”

Hesitantly, he nodded. “Just— Just for a moment…please.”

Immediately, before he had even finished speaking, you removed your hand from his ear. “Alright.”

Surprise flooded his body. No one had ever listened to him before. No one had ever taken his ‘no’ to be a no. They always kept doing what hurt him, what he hated, what made his skin crawl with disgust and hate and fear. 

But you…listened. You more than listened, you stopped.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “It’s just— I…I’m not quite ready to do anything else yet. There’s so much I want to say because I’ve never been able to before and I don’t… I don’t want to ruin the moment, but…”

“But trying to push through will ruin it anyway for you,” you said, understanding him immediately. “That’s alright. Just keep talking, my love, and I will listen to everything.”

Oh, gods above, you understood him. Astarion felt the strong urge to cry until he had no tears left, all out of relief. Instead, he kept talking.

“He hosts grand, lavish parties from time to time. On those nights, we spawn are forced to pose as his…servants. It’s almost a relief to have a break, but then…then there’s the afterparties. And I’m his entertainment at the afterparties. They’re more…orgies than parties by then and I’m at the center of it all, dressed however he wants me for the night, which is sometimes nothing. He lets the partygoers use me however they wish. He orders them to, in fact. It hurts and hurts and hurts until it suddenly doesn’t because I can’t feel anything anymore.” His tears dripped onto your skin. You cooed softly, trying to comfort him, but you said nothing to stop him, so he kept going. “It’s not just the parties, either. It’s… Well, it’s like this. I’m his favorite to torture, and I’m his favorite to…to use.” 

You made a sound of both sympathy and rage. “Asty…”

Your whisper was lost in his continued tirade. “Whenever he wants, I’m there and I’m meant to do whatever he wants me to do and let him do everything he can to me. The others all know. They know I’m Cazador’s plaything and they think I get…special treatment for it. They don’t see how much it hurts, they don’t see that I suffer every night, because I don’t suffer like they do. No, no, I get to have sex! I get one of life’s simple pleasures while he beats them! So how is it fair that I complain?” Astarion looked up at you, his eyes shining with tears. “How is it fair that I complain?”

“It’s not your fault,” you said firmly. “It’s not. Darling, none of this is on you. Your master is…a leech. Yes, he’s a leech, taking what does not belong to him, forcing misery upon you. Astarion, please listen to me, honey. I mean it. This is not your fault. He is sowing dissent amongst all of you on purpose because it is the only way he can control you. If you all were to band together—”

“We’re his thralls, he can control us anyway,” Astarion snapped. “Anything he wants us to do, we do. It’s why I haven’t been able to stop him from—” He fell silent and buried his face in your chest, an unreasonable shame burrowing in his chest. He knew it was unreasonable; he knew you were at least somewhat right. He had no control over his life, and yet… The shame was there anyway. “Poetry. That’s what he said he carved into me. That’s the scar on my back.”

Automatically, your hand drifted from his hair to his shoulder. Before touching the scar you asked, “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. It hurt then, when he had to correct his mistakes because I couldn’t keep still enough.”

“Can I touch it?”

He nodded slowly and braced himself. But your touch was gentle and soothing. Your fingers ghosted across the raised marks and you peeked over his shoulder at it.

“It’s written in Infernal,” you murmured. “Last I checked, that’s not exactly the language of poets.”

Astarion raised his head. “Really? I…I didn’t know. What does it say?”

You shrugged. “I can recognize it, but I can’t read it.”

Astarion sighed and fell back against your chest. 

“What do you want to do?” you whispered to him.

“Hold me,” he breathed.

So you wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly to your body, his head against your chest, his own arms coming around your waist. You held each other in silence for quite a while. Your hand began to scratch his scalp and a gentle sound that was close to a purr escaped him. After a few moments, your hand went back to his ear. When he didn’t protest, you began rubbing his ear lightly.

A soft moan escaped Astarion’s lips. He looked up at you, his hips already beginning to grind into the mattress. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you reminded him. “You are more than just sex.”

“I want to,” he whispered, the statement true for the first time in nearly two centuries. “It’s… It’s you, of course I want to.”

You whimpered quietly at the words and pressed a tiny kiss to his forehead. “Only if you’re sure, honey.”

“I’m sure,” he promised. 

It didn’t take long for the heat in his body to rebuild. You caressed every sensitive spot on his body with care and intimate knowledge of who he was: his ears, the nape of his neck, his Adonis belt, his nipples. You touched him with a reverence that felt almost like worship and made his entire body tremble with need. You suckled on his nipples until he moaned loudly and ripped himself away from you to do the same to you. 

Very quickly you learned to give him control. He hovered above you, sucking hickies into your neck and chest, happily leaving little bites on your tits as he went.

“You can draw blood,” you whispered to him in the middle of a bite and he moaned delightedly, letting his fangs scratch your skin until you bled and licking up the crimson droplets. He met your gaze as he let his tongue linger on a deeper cut and found you looking down at him fondly, toying with one of his curls between your fingers. 

Astarion adjusted to slip a hand between your bodies. He cupped your exposed cunt and grinned at the sight of your head going back, exposing the column of your throat to him.

“I’ve barely touched you, darling,” he teased. 

“And I’ve waited two hundred years for this,” you reminded him. “Any touch is enough, but, hells, please put your fingers inside of me.”

“Needy,” he joked, but did as you asked, spreading your pussy to drag his fingers up your slit. He placed his slick fingers on your clit and began to rub gentle circles. You gasped, your body arching up into his. He chuckled and moved up to kiss you sweetly. His tongue against yours was a balm to the both of you; you calmed down enough to wrap your arms around his shoulders and he felt any lingering doubts slip away. 

You were his. You had always been his. You were not just another victim, you were the woman he loved, the woman he had been so devoted to that he was going to marry you. You were not using him like the others.

You seemed to read his thoughts and filled in the last possibility, murmuring against his soft lips, “I love you, Astarion.”

He moaned into your mouth. A single tear slipped past his closed eyelid and fell on your cheek. 

“I love you,” you whispered again. “You don’t have to say it back. I just want you to know.”

Astarion slipped two fingers into you, curling them deep inside you. You arched into him again, moaning obscenely. He giggled again; if just two fingers could make you this happy, what would you do when you felt his cock inside you again?

He pumped his fingers slowly until your hips bucked into his hand, wordlessly asking for more. He picked up the pace until you began panting. He watched you grow closer and closer to the edge, your body writhing, your eyebrows pinching together, your mouth falling open to let out delicious moans. He was almost tempted to just let you finish on his fingers, but… 

Gods, he wanted to taste you.

He pulled his fingers out of you. You whined his name, pitifully, already begging, already asking, “Why did you stop?”

Astarion’s answer was not verbal. Grinning, he dropped to his knees quickly and shuffled closer to the edge of the bed. He yanked you to the edge, letting your legs dangle over his shoulders, and leaned in. You held eye contact as he pressed a kiss to your clit. Then a second. Then a third. By the time he got to the fourth kiss and latched his lips around your sensitive nub, your eyes were rolling into the back of your head.

“Astarion,” you moaned, your hand twisting into his hair but not pulling.

He began to suck gently, letting the pressure drive you wild. He licked your clit slowly, lavishing attention on it with his tongue, feeling you grow very, very wet against his chin. He dropped a little lower to tongue at your entrance, the taste of your arousal pulling a moan from deep in his chest. You gasped at the vibration, your hips rutting against his face. He chuckled into you and slid his tongue inside you, lapping at your cunt. You were delicious in ways he hadn’t thought possible. He knew that his heightened senses meant that he could smell every bit of your arousal, every emotion inside of you, every liquid in your body—but he had not expected your lust to be infused with your love for him. 

It was a new feeling, a new taste. He liked it. 

Astarion reached up and coated his hand in your dripping arousal. Then he wrapped his hand around his cock and began stroking slowly, allowing himself to enjoy it, feeling the heady rush of blood to completely harden his cock. His hips rocked gently, the pace increasing when he glanced up at you and found you smiling as you panted, your breasts heaving. 

He released himself to bring his hand back up to your cunt. He sunk his fingers into your wet entrance and returned to sucking on your clit. You cried out, your hips bucking, and he grinned against your slick skin. 

“Cum for me,” he whispered against you, loud enough for you to hear his command. “Let me taste you. Cum on my face, darling.”

You clenched around his fingers, moaning the loudest you had all night. There was a fresh rush of wetness and the lewd sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you grew louder. Astarion slipped his fingers out of you and his tongue back into your cunt to taste you as your orgasm ripped through you. He put his thumb on your clit and started rubbing.

Astarion’s eyes fluttered shut as he tasted your cum. You were sweet, absolutely divine, your ecstasy meant entirely for him. He groaned into your pussy and your legs wrapped around his head, helping to bury him in your slick entrance. He giggled, more than happy to stay there longer and keep licking your cum out of you.

He tapped your thigh when he was done and you put your shaking legs back to the floor. He got to his feet and crawled over you, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss. You moaned into his mouth, then made a sound of surprise.

“Do you taste yourself on my tongue?” he whispered, looking at you with hooded eyes.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Good.” He kissed you again, grinding on your thigh to ease the throbbing in his cock. You groaned at the feeling, your arms tightening around his neck. You broke away from his mouth to pepper his face in tiny, loving kisses.

An overwhelming fondness filled him and he pulled away from you enough to meet your gaze. You trailed your fingertips over his cheekbone and then to his ear, rubbing gently again. He hummed happily and opened his eyes to see your face as he whispered, “I love you, too.”

You stopped, your eyes widening, your lips parting. Gods, you were beautiful. “Do you really mean—?”

“Yes,” he breathed quickly and bent down to kiss you again. You hummed into his mouth, pulling his body down onto yours. He paused in his grinding, wanting to be against you more than he wanted the friction.

“I love you,” both of you said at the same time, then burst into little giggles. You nuzzled into each other, Astarion’s cheeks hurting from the smile he couldn’t seem to drop. Then you kissed him and pulled his lower lip between your teeth. You tugged slightly.

Astarion pulled back and then glanced down your body to where his cock rested on your stomach. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He grinned. “Spread your legs a little wider for me, sweet girl.”

You did as he asked without a second thought and he settled between your legs. He guided himself against your entrance, notching the head of his cock there. He looked up at you again and you nodded. He smiled softly, kissed you once, and then looked back down to watch himself sink into you.

Astarion moved slowly, careful not to hurt you, well aware that you hadn’t been fucked in two hundred years. You sucked in a deep breath, keeping your eyes on him as he pushed into you. Astarion let out a low groan as you squeezed around him, already a tight fit, your warmth and wetness enveloping him. When he bottomed out, you released your breath, your head falling back against the pillows. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered. 

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, I’m alright. Gods… You feel…right. It’s…it’s almost as if it were yesterday you made love to me for the last time.”

He bent down enough to kiss your forehead. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to make love to you?”

“Please,” you whispered. 

Astarion began to move. He started with shallow thrusts, trying to allow you time to adjust and get used to the feeling, watching the pleasure on your face as he did. He held himself up with one hand and let the other slide up and down your side comfortingly.

Eventually, you turned your head to kiss his wrist. “More,” you said quietly. When he raised his eyebrow, prompting you, your already flushed cheeks turned scarlet and you amended, “Deeper.”

“Good girl,” he said and let his next thrust bring his pelvis to yours. Both of you moaned into each other. Your breaths came faster as he began to hit that spot deep inside of you over and over again, sure to never go too hard. Then you whispered, “Harder, Asty,” and all restraint left his limbs. 

Astarion lifted your leg to get a better angle and began pounding into you relentlessly, grunting with every thrust. Your moans became punctuated and he slowed down briefly to let you get some air.

Your response was to throw both legs around his hips, tug him down to you, and breathe into his ear, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop doing what you’re doing, darling.”

Astarion moaned happily and hurried back into his fast pace. You pulled him into a bruising kiss and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“Can I touch your back?” you whispered and he nodded quickly. 

“Scratch at me all you want, sweetness,” he replied and your blush darkened.

You settled your hands on his upper back, your nails digging in just slightly as you held onto him. You crossed your ankles at the small of his back and let him drill into you.

Lips, teeth, and tongues clashed into each other as you made out messily, the sound of your spit-slicked kisses drowned out by the rhythmic smacking of your hips into each other. You felt a soreness begin to build, pleasant and familiar and distinctly Astarion.

For his part, Astarion was pleasantly surprised at how present he was. He found himself electing to keep his eyes open to see the ecstasy wash over your face when he wasn’t kissing you and he smiled at every moan, every “Oh gods” you let out, every cry of his name that left your lips. His whole body buzzed with pleasure and his cock throbbed inside of you. He nuzzled into your neck, kissing softly and nipping gently, not taking blood from you this time. He tongued over the bite he left earlier, licking the dried residue of your blood, but the wound had since closed. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your skin. “And I am so sorry that I have been gone.”

You kissed his cheek briefly. “I love you, too.”

Astarion groaned into your neck, then pushed himself back up, fucking into your pussy wildly. “You feel so godsdamn good,” he panted, grinning down at you. “I haven’t felt this way in…a very long time.”

You gently squeezed his hips with your legs and reached up to cup his face. “I’ve missed how perfect you feel,” you said. “How you always hit the right spots.” You moaned as he did exactly that, your entire body tensing, preparing for your orgasm.

“Are you close?” he asked.

“Very,” you breathed. 

He brushed your hair from your face. “Cum whenever you’re ready, darling. I want to feel you spasm around me.”

You whimpered. “Oh, Asty,” you moaned. You relaxed into the mattress. “Go a little harder and I’ll be there.”

He did as you asked, pounding into you fast and hard and just a little bit rough. He reached down to put his fingers on your clit and you let out a shriek, clenching tightly around him. He gasped, his cock twitching at the stimulation. You threw your head back, nearly screaming as you came around him, his name lost somewhere in your shrieks of pleasure. The fresh slickness of your cum surrounded him and he glanced down to find a ring of white on his cock, getting thicker and brighter by the second.

The grunts that fell from Astarion’s mouth were rougher, louder. He squeezed his eyes shut and then forced them open again.

“Darling—” he gasped, his entire body trembling with exertion as he tried to stave off his impending orgasm. “I’m— I’m gonna cum, oh gods, where do you— Where do you want it?”

There was a soft look on your face as you whispered, “Inside. Inside like the last time you ever fucked me.”

Astarion groaned, the reveal bringing tears to his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tear drop from his lashes. Your thumb came up to his face and wiped gently at his eye. He whimpered, leaning into your touch.

“Cum for me, honey,” you whispered, softly cupping his cheek.

Astarion whined and kissed your palm, burying himself to the hilt. He moaned loudly, tilting his head back, and it quickly became a series of high-pitched whimpers as ecstasy washed through his body. He trembled, holding himself up until he was spent. Then he collapsed on top of you, panting harshly.

You held him close, soothing him with quiet hushes and soft whispers of how wonderful he had done for you. You kissed the top of his head, running your hand through his curls, murmuring your love to him with a smile on your face. 

Eventually, Astarion pulled out of you. You whimpered and he whispered a soft apology. He sat back to watch his seed drip out of you. Fascinated, he gently swiped his fingers through your mixed releases. You shuddered. He held his fingers up to your mouth. You quirked an eyebrow at him at first, then opened your mouth and let him slide his fingers between your lips. Dutifully, you licked them clean.

“I guess we’ve never done that before, huh?” he joked, laying back down on you. He kissed you sweetly, enjoying the taste of you and him together on his tongue. 

You shook your head. “Nope. You only came inside me for one night.” He raised an eyebrow and you explained carefully, “I’d been tracking my cycle so I knew you could cum inside me without us getting pregnant too early. We wanted to wait until after our wedding to start trying for a baby.”

Astarion’s heart nearly broke. “We…we wanted a family.”

You nodded, smiling in a way that made Astarion feel like you knew the pain twisting in his chest at the moment. “We’d told your parents we wanted one the night before you died. They were…ecstatic. You know, I’m almost surprised they didn’t push us to move the wedding up so we could start faster.”

He laughed, more a huff than anything with how exhausted he was. “I take it they didn’t know about us taking the risk of finishing inside you?”

You grinned. “Well… We didn’t tell them, exactly, but I’m guessing they figured it out with how loud you made me scream that night.”

Astarion smirked. “Was it louder than you just were?”

“Oh, much louder,” you said, somehow teasing and serious at the same time. “I thought the entire neighborhood could hear you making me scream.”

“So I’ve always been good at sex, then?”

You shrugged. “Not…exactly. The first few times were a little…subpar in comparison to what our sex life became, the sex we just had. But because it was you, because it was so new…we still enjoyed it.”

The two of you shuffled to lay on your sides, facing each other. You snuggled against his chest and Astarion held you tightly, pressing soft, lingering kisses to every inch of your face. 

“I love you,” he murmured. “And I see why I loved you then. You are…perfect. Considerate. Gentle. You don’t…push for things I don’t want to do. You just know what I like, even after all this time… I had thought I had changed, but…”

“You did change,” you said. “But not so much that I don’t recognize the man underneath all your disguises, all your layers. You are, deep down, still my Astarion.”

He curled more tightly around you. “I like being yours.”

You kissed his nose. “I like it, too.”

The pair of you lapsed into comfortable silence. Astarion listened to your breathing and your steady heartbeat, watching your chest rise and fall against his, moving as if he was also breathing. 

You were so comfortable with him… So vulnerable. You trusted him with your exposed neck, with your bare body, with your love. Hells, how he wished he could remember what he had done to earn that trust. How he wished he could keep your trust.

Some time later, you mumbled into his skin, “It’s two hours until dawn, my love.”

Fear crept back into Astarion’s mind. “I know.”

“We should get going soon.”

He held you just a little tighter. “Not— Not quite yet, darling. Let me hold you for a few minutes more.”

You smiled knowingly against his chest and Astarion wondered how many mornings he had refused to get up, electing instead for a few more minutes in bed with you, your limbs tangled and the sheets just barely covering your lower halves. “Alright.”

Astarion pressed a grateful kiss to the top of your head. His mind began to spin with the beginnings of half-baked plans. The two of you could run, leave now and get as far away as possible. He could simply not go back, he could hide here with you until night fell again and then the two of you could leave. He could bring you back to Cazador with a plan, with a way to kill him or escape him or both in mind.

Every plan fell short. Nothing would work. Cazador had too many eyes in the city to disappear this quickly. 

We’d never escape alive. And while Astarion was certain that death—true death—would be a relief in comparison to the past two hundred years, he wasn’t willing to force that on you.

He glanced at you, still tucked into his arm, a peaceful look on your face. He tried to capture the image in his mind for a few moments, then stirred and gently slipped out from underneath you. He stood and slowly put his clothes back on.

You watched him do so, sitting up on your arms to grin at him. “Now that’s a sight that never gets old.”

Astarion frowned. “Me putting clothes back on?”

You nodded, reaching for your dress. Astarion helped you get it over your head. “It reminds me of our early mornings when you’d get ready for work and I’d watch you primp and preen until you were perfect.” You adjusted your dress, then looked up at him. “Here—let me fix your hair, I messed it up when I put my hands in it.”

Astarion watched your face, your expression twisted into concentration, your tongue poking out just slightly, as you carded your fingers through his curls and arranged them. When you were satisfied, you stepped back.

“There, good as new,” you said and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Are you ready?”

Astarion clenched his jaw. “Are you? Are you sure you want to do this? I…I really shouldn’t do this, darling, I should just take the punishment—”

“No,” you said firmly. “I will never forgive myself if I know you’re out there, getting hurt, because I wouldn’t go with you.”

“Darling—”

“Take me to him,” you insisted. “Don’t get yourself hurt for me.”

Still, Astarion bit his lip so hard he tasted his blood. “But isn’t that what we should do? I’d be protecting you—”

“I would be putting you in danger, Asty,” you insisted, cupping his cheek. “Please. Please do this and we will find a way out of this, alright? Even if it’s a last-ditch, desperate attempt to run—we’ll do something. I promise you, love.”

It won’t be enough. It will never be enough. But Astarion didn’t want to dash your hopes; naive as it was, it was relieving to see hope after two hundred years without it. It almost convinced him that you would be the lucky soul to escape Cazador’s bite, his eternal punishment. 

Astarion offered you his hand. “Are you ready, darling?”

You nodded, slipping your hand into his. “Ready.”

Before you left, you extinguished the lamps like normal and locked your door behind you like it was any other outing. You slipped the key into a hidden pocket in your dress Astarion hadn’t realized was even there. He admired the stitchwork as you walked hand-in-hand down the street. Despite the anxiety wriggling away in his stomach, Astarion let himself enjoy the feeling of walking with you, touching you, enjoying the last few moments of the night air with you. 

The Szarr residence loomed ahead far too quickly, the palace towers casting a horrible shadow across the road leading up to it. Astarion glanced at you as the pair of you passed into the shadows.

“Last chance to back out, darling,” he said quietly. “I can always circle back to an alleyway and drag some poor soul out—”

“No, Asty,” you said gently. “If that was a real option, you would have already done it.”

He sighed and nodded. “Alright. But—darling?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for what might happen in there, what he’ll do to you.”

You smiled at him. “You don’t have to be sorry, honey, it’s not your fault. Nothing he does to me is your fault.”

“I brought you here,” he insisted. “I brought you here knowing what you’ll have to go through. I could just take the beating, but… I don’t want to, so I’m letting you suffer like I should.”

For the first time, Astarion saw a glimmer of doubt in your eyes. Your steps faltered and he felt the shudder that passed through your body. You licked your dry lips.

“What’s he going to do?”

A painful first bite. Drink you dry. Bury you. Make you dig your way out of your coffin. Trap you in chains the minute you’re free of the dirt. Whip you until you bleed and then lick your wounds. Astarion’s experience flashed through his head. But the fear on your face… He couldn’t tell you any of that, could he?

“Terrible things,” Astarion said gravely. It came out far darker than he intended and he knew what a terrifying sight he was: weak light in his hair, his red eyes glowing in the shadows, his fangs flashing in the dark with every word. You shrank away from him, stopping in your tracks, and inched out of the shadows. 

“Astarion, I—”

Fear gripped his undead heart, tainted his vision, thrummed in his veins. Astarion hissed and lunged, grabbing your arm with a vice-like grip. “Come on,” he insisted, just slightly aware of the growl in his voice. You resisted for just a moment, but Astarion was stronger than you were; it only took a tug to pull you back into the shadow of the tower. 

Servants of Cazador’s opened the doors for Astarion when they recognized him. They couldn’t hide their shock that he was dragging a victim in, his facade of the perfect lover dropped, and something clicked inside him.

It’s not Cazador who scares her; it’s me.

Astarion nearly let go of you. Then he felt the eyes of his siblings boring into him, all six waiting in a clustered group, and he knew Cazador was near. There was no escape for you now.

Astarion tightened his grip on you and dragged you into the palace’s shadows. He watched your feet cross the threshold, damning you eternally. The door slammed shut.

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil @caramel-hufflepuff @beemiilk @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @starwatch77 @julianmarie @sadexistentialism @supernaturallover15 @writinghound

[ranmacapss]

[Ranma ½] ✥ Chapter 6, Body and Soul

[bithablu]

Interview With An Agent

Vampires can suck it; agents are superior

First things first: no one will ever convince me that the props department and writers of Complete Fiction aren't HUGE Lockwood and Co fans. Someone ( edit for credit: .@cate-deriana ) already mentioned the blip moment in this chapter of a kid playing with agent toys being shown on the show but there's more.

THEY MADE SURE THE HANDKERCHIEF WAS GREEN AND WHITE SPOTTED! BOOK NERDS! ALL OF 'EM (and I love it)!

I absolutely adore how much information is jam packed into this chapter without it feeling like an info dump. I mean, yeah, we get some of the basics spelled out for us but His Geniusness, Jonathan Stroud, also did a LOT of the showing without telling.

Lucy's temperament may have been directly mentioned ("feisty") but it's also shown in a few different ways. Thanks to her narration on the general dilapidation of the house and her description of George, we realize that she has a judgemental focus on appearance. She's impatient ("see myself out" after a long silence), scared (stomach clenched, shifting slightly in her chair, heart juddering), and resigned to enduring life instead of enjoying it.

Although, I still think it's funny that she's so impatient with the living but she always has time for the dead. Lucy's excess of talent makes it seem like she finds it easier to deal with the other side than the land of the living.

We get a fantastic introduction to George's personality. Blunt, rude, also impatient, sassy, focused on facts and practicalities rather than niceties. BUT! He accepts Lucy before Lockwood allows himself to (more about that in a second). While Locky is working through his thoughts, George pipes up with "Tell her about the biscuit rule". He likes rules that make sense to him but has little patience for societal norms. This sets up the whole him getting fired from Fittes scenario perfectly.

Lastly (but never least...ly), Lockwood is more than willing to tell rather than just show but he's like jazz music; sometimes it's more about the things that he doesn't say. He rushes past talking about Robin, doesn't answer about where Skull comes from, and gives only the bare bones info about the company. Thing is, he's clearly not stupid. It's subtle but understood that he KNOWS there's a problem with Lucy. Anyone with her level of talent would be happily scooped up by another agency ("Of course you've got the job") but she's ended up at 35 Portland Row. I think that's what the priestly toilet thoughts are about- he's running through the risk assessment and trying to figure out what baggage she brings. He was also probably contemplating if Lucy and George could work/live together but George solved that one.

All in all, I thought it was a wonderful way to formally introduce the characters and their dynamic.

[the-real-treasure]

Treasure Treasure!

An OPLA Sanji x Reader

Master List Here

Previous Chapter: Let Sleeping Cats Die

Chapter Seven: Returning Tides of Home

Summary: A captain learns that prices must be paid and punishments will be dished out accordingly. A duel challenge is issued, and it leaves wounds on more than just the competitors.

Trigger Warnings: Violence, threats and descriptions of violence, swearing, trauma responses, mentions of death, self-harm, branding, scarring, mention of alcohol, duel to the death, Reader's Devil Fruit power is overwhelming and overstimulating Word Count: 9,730 **Edited: 16/09/24**

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"Did you just call that guy Grandpa?" Zoro asked from beside his captain

"Luffy," you scolded from beside Nami, "Seriously?" Luffy looks at you,

"What?"

"He takes his steaks medium rare!"

"So?!" The call comes not just from Luffy but the rest of your crewmates as well.

"So! That's so incredibly," you coil you neck in, having to physically pit out the word "boring."

"Really." Nami sounds incredibly done with you, and you're not sure why. "That's where the concern comes from."

"Where else would it come from?"

"Maybe the fact that HE'S A MARINE AND IS CURRENTLY ATTACKING US!"  Her unimpressed voice turns to a yell as another cannon ball rocks the ship. Everyone stumbles at the shock wave and you end up clinging to Nami.

"YOU MAKE A FAIR POINT, I'LL GIVE YOU THAT." As another cannonball rockets through the air, Usopp screams,

"HIT THE DECK!" Luffy and Zoro fall from the force of the blast as woodchips shower down on them, the blast taking out several spindles of the railing. As they climb to their feet, Luffy calls out,

"Everybody ok?"

"I think so," Nami replies as she pries your clawed hands from her arms, sharp nails leaving indents in the skin, but not scratches thankfully.

"No. Not okay, not even close to okay." Usopp shouts down from behind you both.

"Usopp! Fire back at them!"

"Or," the sharp shooter suggests, "how about we sail away as fast as we can?"

"I like that plan, second Usopp's plan!" You shoot your hand into the air as a vote, only to stagger and grab a desperate hold of the rigging as everything around you shakes. "Reminder Luffy, we can not swim! I do not want to try drowning out for a third time in my life, thank you!!" Luffy stares at you both in disbelief.

"Run from the Marines? No. Never! Nami, trim the-the sail thing. Let's sink their ship." You calmly ignore your captain's insane plan and barely legible request, instead checking the ropes of the sail at their base, before clambering on to the rigging up towards the crow's nest as Nami begins to argue.

"We don't have time. They're stealing our wind. If they pull up alongside us, we're finished." As he and Usopp start manoeuvring the cannon the face the Marine ship, you scamper nimbly across the head of the sail, ducking under the tack of the cross tree.

"You're the navigator. Do something." She sighs at him and begins yelling to you and the green haired swordsman.

"Zoro, sheet in and hard to port!" Leaning back, she blocks the sun from her eyes as she yells up to you, grabbing the rudder control, "Y/n, make sure the clew lines are loose! And when you've done that, get down here and secure the kicker."

"AYE!" You call back over the winds, checking that the lines running down the sail aren't jammed in the clewgarnets, as Zoro queries,

"Which ways port?"

"The left!" She yells, and you slide easily back to the deck, the years of clambering about the Orbit and Baratie's masts and rigging leaving it as a near thoughtless exercise. You couldn't cook, but you had a sharp eye and a good ear for instructions, so you were often directed to work amongst the lines and tack. The bandages around your hands, leather gloves abandoned back in Syrup Village, stank and burned slightly from the friction, but it had never stopped you before. "Usopp!" Nami yelled as you skittered past to secure the control lines, "Load the cannon in the barrel, light the fuse, then get the HELL OUT OF THE WAY!"

You look up from checking the ropes, as cannon balls bounce merrily down the stairs, perfectly happy to not be loaded up and shot at high speeds. Eyeing the mess of ropes Zoro had abandoned, you pick your way through the rolling carnage and start on the gordian knot that your crew mate had left.

"Oh man." Luffy sighed at the butchering a simple attempt at a counterattack had left the ship in already. From the Marine ship you hear a loud voice transmit across the sea to you.

"Pirate vessel, by order of the Marines, lower your sails and submit to my authority." You were getting really sick of being ordered by Marines. Luffy didn't seem to care for his grandfather's commands either as he screams in reply.

"NEVER!" You watch stunned as the man lifted a cannon ball, and chucked it towards your ship. Open mouthed, you gaped as it sailed through the air towards you, only for Luffy to begin to inflate like a balloon, catching it in his chest and sending it flying back and striking the mast of the enemy ship.

"That was," Usopp gasped, "amazing! You saved us!" He cheered excitedly. Nami gawked at him.

"You didn't tell me you could do that."

"I didn't know I could." Luffy replied, eyes never leaving the Marine vessel as Usopp bounced down the stairs to him, the pair laughing and cheering together. "Nami! Get us out of here!"

"On it!" Steering the Going Merry into a thick bank of fog, she muttered, "Let's disappear."

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"How's the ship look?" Zoro walked up alongside you and Nami as she steered and you peered over the edge, staring into the fog to keep an eye out for rocks or other dangers that might appear suddenly.

"Broken railing, minor damage. Could've been a lot worse."

"Could've been better." She shot down.

"Can't see the Marines anywhere." Usopp called over his shoulder.

"You can't see anything, this fog is too damn thick." You answer, barely able to make out his figure through the soup.

"What we need is a place to lay low, wait out any reinforcements they send after us." Nami figured.

"I know the perfect place, it's just trying to find it from here. Wherever here is."

"Let me guess," Nami smirked at you, "the best restaurant in the whole of the East Blue."

"With the best cooks, the best staff." Usopp chimed with a grin at you,

"And a sardine shaped boat called the Guppy." Zoro and Nami grinned at each other,

"Yeah, what's it called? Pure Ratty or something?" The pair sniggered as you whirled on them.

"You know its name, don't make fun of me!"

"I'm honestly starting to doubt this place's existence." Nami said, head shaking. You mouth the words at the back of her head, wiggling your head at her mocking. "It doesn't matter either way, my charts are useless in this fog."

"What did Luffy say?" Zoro asked

"He's up on the bow. He hasn't said anything since we hightailed it." Usopp answered, still staring out into the fog.

"Well, somebody needs to talk to him. About this and that other thing." Zoro swayed slightly with the ship and looked at her.

"What other thing?"

"Oh gee, I wonder. The vice-admiral-of-the-Marines-is-my-grandfather thing."

"Oooh, that." Usopp pursed his lips. "Yeah, I don't really know the guy that well."

"Doesn't seem like a big deal." Zoro shrugged. Nami glared at him.

"You're his first mate. Kind of seems like that falls under your job description, hmm?" He looked at the pair, before glancing over at you in your perch in the rigging.

"Y/n's known him longer than me, Y/n you go talk to him." You shake your head.

"Nope. That's veering into guy talk territory and I don't do guy talks, I've had enough of that for six lifetimes. I do offer a guy talk clean up service, so if it doesn't go well, I can sort it out after, but that's it. Besides," You shooed him away, "I'm just the magic compass. It's not in my job description. Off you go, First Mate."

He rolled his eyes and turned away, disappearing into the fog.

"Fine."

You, Nami and Usopp follow shortly behind, meeting Zoro halfway as he returns to your group.

"Seems fine to me."

"Did you even ask him?" Nami asked incredulously. 

"Hey!" Luffy barks, standing and sniffing at the fog. "You guys smell that."

"Smell what?" You crossed your arms,

"Please don't say smoke," Nami side eyes you, "I haven't been down to the galley, don't look at me!" Luffy takes in another long sniff.

"No, no. There's something on the breeze. Smells like butter," he continues sniffing and moves further along the boat, "Soy sauce." Another long hard sniff. "And meat!"

Usopp moves onto the bow.

"I can't smell anything."

"Think he has brain damage?"

"I think that everyday."

You push past your crewmates and move up beside Luffy as he leans against the sheep figurehead.

"Look Luffy, playing follow the smell is fun and all, but we really gotta get out of this fog."

"I know, but I smell food, which means, there's someone somewhere cooking!"

You grab Luffy by the shoulders, turning him towards you.

"The butter, was it just butter, or infused with something," his mouth pulls and he give you a shrug,

"Maybe?"

"Thyme? Garlic maybe?" He takes another sniff and nods, "The soy sauce? Dark? More for colour than for flavour?" The nodding continues as you describe the food more and more, "The meat, a full boar, cooked medium to well done, in a red wine and rosemary marinade?"

The others were looking at you weirdly now as a grin spreads across your face. You turn to look at Nami.

"I told you it was real. That is one of Zeff's signatures." You grab your captain's shoulder and give them an excited shake. "Can you lead us to the smell? DO YOU THINK YOU CAN DO THAT?!" Screaming in his face was a bit weird but you were nearly home and could hardly contain it. He smiled at you confused.

"Yea, why?" You release him with a smirk and peer into the fog ahead of you.

"Well, we can hadrly miss our dinner plans, can we!"

"Five degrees starboard!" Luffy was perched on the figurehead of the Merry, sniffing at the air wildly, your own excitement rubbing off on him. "No! No! Three degrees back to port." Nami's words don't register to you at all as you peer into the fog.

"Add food to the equation and suddenly he knows how to navigate." A beaming smile grows across your face as familiar lights shine through the thinning fog. You hear Zoro move behind you as he asks,

"What is that? Is that land?"

"Can't be. There aren't any islands anywhere near here." You turn back to your navigator, skipping across the deck as you move closer to the railing. You hear Usopp.

"What's a... baratie?" You spin to face Nami, a smug grin meeting her bewildered face through the fog.

She stares ahead as you emerge from the fog, the dipping light of the sun sending warm oranges and pinks dancing across the calm waters surrounding Baratie.

"You said it was a restaurant," she begins, steering the ship into dock along side the fish head bar. "You never mentioned it was a floating restaurant." You shrugged at her.

"Does it matter?"

"Well, yeah, I thought it was on an island. You know? Land? Not bobbing around in the middle of the ocean with nothing to mark it's location." You smile at her.

"I've never needed to look for it on a map, it's never been hard to make my way back here." You shrug, "It's home."

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You all crowd the railings as you look over the dock.

"Everyone's going to that fish ship." Nami leans on the rail beside you with a small smile.

"That smell. I can't believe it, it's actually a restaurant."

"Then I know what we're gonna do next."

"Disguise the ship so the Marines can't find us?"

"Sail back to Syrup Village where it's safe?" You snorted, your and Luffy's first conversation coming to mind.

"Nope." He whacks you on the shoulder and hops off the rail.

"Let's eat!" Zoro squints against the setting sun.

"That fish better have a bar."

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As the group filled in ahead of you, you scanned the docks for any sign of your baby, but it doesn't look to be out the front. That isn't unusual, more often then not you docked her out the back instead, so Patty may have left her back there.

Deciding to get your crew at least seated before you go galivanting off, you head in to find Luffy and Usopp trying to sweet talk the fish-man maître d'.

"Monkey D. Luffy? Perhaps you've heard of him?" Usopp shmooshes. He sighs.

"Well, in that case, we'll find a table." They both cheer and rush to peer over the railing into the main dining room. "In three weeks."

"Sorry about them, Akito." You slip past Nami and Zoro as they stand unimpressed with their captain's shenanigans. "They're with me. All of 'em."

His eyes brighten.

"Ah, Y/n, you're finally back." As you approach the host desk, he grabs your wrist and pulls you in, "Next time you leave for such an extended period, would you mind letting someone know? I don't think any of us can stand Zeff and Sanji's attitudes for a second more." He whispered. "And maybe don't get involved with pirates!"

You raise your eyebrows at him and smile.

"Akito, Zeff was a pirate. And I haven't been gone that much longer than planned, five days, a week at most. You can all survive without my dishwashing services that long." He glared at you.

"Still five days too long." You smile innocently and bat your eyelashes at him.

"Can I please have a table for my crew, my bestest most wonderful excellent glorious phenomenal fishy friend?" You clutch your hands together and drop your chin on to them, blinking up at him. He gives a beleaguered sigh. "With his lovely top fin and sparkly scales?"

"Flattery will not work on everyone, you know." He still slides out from behind the desk, waving for you all to move down the stairs. "Come along, we'll get your," he eyes the others, "crew seated." You clap your hands excitedly.

"You're the best Aki, I wanna go and check out the state of my loveliest baby, if you could please let me know where Patty deserted her?" He rolled his eyes.

"At the tail, where else?" You give his arm a squeeze in thanks and move to rush out the door again, "He says he won't be fetching her again, you know!"

"He always says that!"

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"Get a move on. You're slowing the line." The blue haired chef passes the blonde one staring at the dish he's creating.

"Gotta wait for the sauce to cool."

"I didn't see this on tonight's menu."

"It's called imagination, Patty, I wouldn't expect you to understand." Patty rounds on him.

"You wanna take this outside?"

"Are you asking me to dance? 'Cause I kinda had my eye on that blonde at table eight." The blue haired man huffs at him.

"It won't be staying there long, not if what Akito said is right."

"Oh?"

"Oh yeah, cute little thing just came traipsing in with a whole crew of pirates, 'parently." Sanji pouts his lips, waiting for him to get to the point.

"So?"

"So, apparently this little sweetheart has long h/c hair, aqua and gold eyes and a very fancy embroidered jacket to match." Sanji whirls on him immediately, nearly dropping the plate in his rush to tug the dish cloth off his shoulder and pull the tie on his collar loose.

"Y/n? They're back?" Patty nods.

"Sounds like it. But hey, hey hey hey!" He calls as Sanji shucks off his apron and fumbles with the chefs' white's buttons. "Don't go leaving the line just yet, we're in the middle of service!"

"And they've been missing for days!"

"So a few more hours won't hurt, they're not going anywhere. Just keep your eye on the menu, whatever the hell that is, boss man ain't gonna like it." Sanji passes him with a scoff, putting the plate at the pass.

"Order up!" His call draws the head chef out of the pantry.

"Aye, aye, aye, aye. What the hell is this?"

"I call it a True Bluefin Sauté. It's elephant tuna, seared asparagus in a sweet soy reduction." Zeff chuckles

"Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"Well I call it crap." Sanji drops his hand back to the pass and rolls his eyes. "The day Baratie serves a dish like that, little eggplant, is the day that hell freezes over."

"If I gotta sling one more prime rib medium-well, I am going to drop dead of boredom, you OLD SHITBAG!" Zeff drops the plate on a pile of dishes to be washed.

"It's what we serve."

"It's an insult to the meat."

"You don't like cooking our menu? Fine. 'Cause I'll be more than delighted to give you other work elsewhere. Maybe you can reduce Y/n's workload for when they get back, take over dishwashing for a while."

"They're already back, so if you're that desperate to get rid of the meal, let me give it to them! They'd eat it happily!"

"You so excited to get out of the kitchen for five seconds, congratulations you've got your wish! You are off the line! Now get out there and wait tables. Move!"

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You prance across the dock that loops the Baratie, pressing yourself close to the bobbing restaurant as you turn the tight corner - the one that isn't meant to be a corner, but you've always used it, ignoring the continuous warnings that Zeff wouldn't save you (Sanji would)- to head for the back, passing the kitchen's back door as you go. The smells wash over you and you can hear yelling as you go, but it doesn't bother you as spot your most prized possession.

The Guppy wasn't very impressive in comparison to some of the giants you had seen while sailing her, but she was perfect for you. Smaller than Nami's schooner, she could probably fit four people if you wanted to push. She lacked a figurehead, instead her bow comes up and cups the space around the deck, making a small hideaway of a bowcastle in the shadow of an intricately carved sardine head, large bulbous portholes acting as eyes as the mouth gaped and allowed the fish tackle shaped bowsprit to protrude out, the shape mimicking Baratie's bar. The railing around the edge and the deck of the ship were sitting barren of the messy ropes and stock boxes that usually travelled with you, her triangular sail lowered and droppable mast leaning on the low stern cabin.

A grin stretched across your mouth as you hopped on board. No, you thought, Patty won't be having to go and fetch her again if you can help it.

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Being outside, you don't see Sanji leaving the kitchen in a huff, or take down the squabbling pirates right outside the doors.

You're not at the table as Sanji drops the dish of complimentary rolls and begins his spiel. 

"Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant, where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?" Luffy stuffs one of the rolls into his mouth and orders,

"One of everything, please."

"Any drinks? One of our signature cocktails to help choke down your meal?" Nami lounges back in the booth, watching him.

"Giving us the hard sell, huh? Too bad, our friend raved about this place." Sanji's eyebrows rose and he smirked.

"Apologies, madam, I didn't see you there. What was it your friend said about us?"

"Only that this is the best restaurant in the East Blue." And Zoro tacked on,

"With the best chefs and staff."

"And a friend of theirs who's gonna find this thing called the All Blue!" Luffy talked through his mouth full of bread. Sanji's smirk falls as Nami's rises, realisation and hope hitting him, but before he can speak again, a yell rings out from behind them as a customer gets bowled over by a blur in an aqua coat.

"NAMI! I FOUND THE GUPPY AND SHE'S COMING WITH US TO THE GRAND LINE IF IT KILLS ME!" Sanji hops out of the way before you send him flying as your hands slam down on the table so hard all the glasses rattle. You're out of breath from rushing down the stairs and knocking over the patrons, trousers and bandaged hands wet with sea spray before you glance up at your server. "Sanji! Hi, I missed you!"

You don't give the man a chance to speak before you leap up to hug him, arms wrapping around his middle as you tug him into you, and you lift him clean off his feet for a moment. A smile splits his face, his cheeks burning as he drops back to the floor, and he hugs you back tightly, hands gripping the back of your coat hard.

"Where," he starts as he pulls back, "have you been? We've all been going out of our minds, the harbour master in Shells Town sprouted some nonsense to Patty about you raiding a Marine base and Akito said you came in with a load of pirates."

"Yeah!" You replied cheerfully, "'Cause I did!" You gesture at your crew sat around the table staring at you two. He glances at them. "Sanji, this is my crew, Zoro, Nami, Usopp and Luffy, guys this is my Sanji!" Sniggering erupted around the table as they watched his face redden. 

"Right.. Makes complete sense for you to hitch a ride home with 'pirates.'" Luffy finally looks up from the now demolished bread basket and 'ooohs' at the pair of you.

"This," he points to Sanji, "this is your friend, the cook! The one who's coming with us." You nod happily as Sanji looks between you and the captain.

"I," Sanji replies, "am not going anywhere except to take your orders to the kitchen, and you," he grabs a hold of your arm, pulling you tight against him, "are coming with me. Are there any drink orders before we go?" Zoro clears his throat.

"Can I get a beer, and something for my friends?" Sanji's eye twitches as Zoro's sweep over the rest of the table.

"Two beers. I usually have three, but-" Luffy interrupts before Usopp can begin a tangent.

"And a milk."

"Three beers and a milk. And, uh, for madam?" You look up at Sanji as he teasingly looks to Nami.

"Water."

"That all? We have lots of options."

"Yeah, still, sparkling, mineral? With ice or without? Cubed or crushed?"

Nami's wide eyes look to you for help and your own roll back.

"Normal water will do fine, let's go. I've missed you guys, I want to see Zeff!" As you pull a chuckling Sanji along with you, you hear the boys teasing Nami about being called 'madam' and feel bad for leaving her for a moment.

It passes quickly though, as Sanji slips his arm through yours to guide you into the kitchen.

The usual chattering between the chefs quiets down for a moment and silence rings. Sanji completely ignores it besides a small smirk, calling out the order of "one of literally everything on the menu, 3 beers, a milk and a water, thanks" as the moustachioed head chef comes out to see why everyone's gone quiet.

"Y/n." Zeff calls across the kitchen and you duck around the pass to look at him.

"Hi Zeff! I'm home!" You smile cheerily as he approaches, peg leg forcing an awkward gait as he crosses the kitchen. Sanji steps away from you as you stretch your arms out in a hug, not really expecting one, but you can hope. You don't expect him to whip out a rolled up newspaper and smack it down on your head with a loud 'thwack!'

"Where have you been, you little donkey? What did you do?!" You rub your head and back into Sanji, pushing your arms back to shield him.

"Nowhere! Nothing! Well not nowhere, I've been a few places but-"

"Nothing?!" Zeff yells, flattening out the paper to reveal your face, blood on your cheek and eyes wide and unfocused, staring back at you from a wanted poster listed with a bounty of twelve million Berries. "NOTHING?!"

You look at the poster, bewildered for a second before you grimace, turning your head away and peeking at Sanji over your shoulder. He's staring, aghast, at the paper.

"Ok, maybe not nothing." The edge of the paper creases under Zeff's grip.

"My office." He barks. "Now."

You hunch your shoulders and start moving. Zeff has an incredible ability to make you feel like a child caught causing trouble at any given moment. Normally, it's just the feeling but, for once, you know you messed up.

"Not you." He puts a firm hand on Sanji's chest pushing him back to the doors. "There are still tables needing served, hop to."

"They just got back," Sanji argues, "and I'm not going to leave them alone to get yelled at by you, you curmudgeonly old sack of rank cabbage!"

"That was a good one." Sanji shoots you a smile,

"Thanks."

"MOVE, NAKAYOSHI!"

"I'M MOVING!" You roar back in equal volume and march ahead into his office, slamming the door closed behind you.

You drop into the stool next to the desk, the one that's too small for you now, the one reserved primarily for you because the big chair was for Zeff, and Sanji is more likely to perch moodily -on the desk as a child, putting himself between you and the older man, now, as an adult, against the wall, like some kind of long, blonde poser.

You look over the papers scattered across the desk, inventory and stock, receipts and changes to be implemented to the menu. In the corner, partially hidden by the dry brown plant you bought him as a birthday present a year ago and just in sight below the map of the East Blue, is where two pictures are tacked, one of the three of you at the grand opening of the Baratie, and the other from your 13th birthday, five years ago now, a 14-year-old Sanji's arm draped across your shoulders. Your nose itches and your eyes start to burn.

The door behind you slams open and shut, but your eyes don't drift from the photographs as Zeff collapses into the chair with a huff. He takes a heaving breath and leans forward on his knees, pulling the chef's hat from his head and dropping it on the desk, and moves into your eyeline of the photos.

"What did you do, little donkey?"

If Sanji could hear him, he wouldn't believe the softness in Zeff's voice. The gruff man always was a bit gentler around you. As a child you barely spoke, following Sanji like a sentient shadow, only moving away because you sensed anger or danger being directed at him, and even then it was only to bite or claw at the cause, the scars littering his skin acting as proof. You had always been viciously protective of him, of your Sanji, and though he never asked, Zeff always wondered why. So, while he kept up the facade of tough love with Sanji, pushing him to fulfil his dream and achieve bigger and better things than hanging about the restaurant, in private with you, he softened. His rougher behaviour had only distanced you at the beginning, even after the display of your Devil Fruit power revealed his own dream about the All Blue. It took months of gentle prodding and tales of his adventures in search of it before you began to open up.

To him, you were still a bit too achey, too broken to be treated roughly, a unknown but violent history obvious in the stark brands of '66' and a crossed out '3' on your hands that he had only discovered after hearing a clatter of falling objects in the kitchen at night, where he found you, not even a teenager yet, wielding a large sharp knife and scoring at them with thick deep slices in complete silence, to his horror. They had scarred over, too deep to properly heal and had left a fierce shaking in their wake. Sanji had never seen them, as you kept them wrapped tightly in bandages or otherwise covered, even now when they'd long since healed. You hadn't cried that night, sitting completely soundless as he had sewn up and wrapped them best he could. You weren't crying now, but the tears were gathering in your water line. 

"I messed up."

"I noticed."

"No, I-" your voice cracked and the humour from Zeff's couldn't do much to combat it. "I meet this boy, he's a pirate," Zeff sits up eyeing you dangerously. "Not like that, you old shitbag. His dream knocked me off my feet. He wants to be King of the Pirates, to find the One Piece, and its on the Grand Line and I thought," your lips trembled, "I thought I could help, that I could be useful for once with this stupid, stupid power, and I thought Sanji could come and we could finally look for the All Blue, the two of us, like we said we would, but everything just-"

The tears were coming now thick and fast and you gasped for breath as you rubbed at them, Zeff's eyes burning into your head as you worked your fists over you face, rubbing it raw.

"-everything just kept getting worse. We had to sneak into a Marine base and steal a map," His eyebrows rocked up, "and there were the Marines at Dye Town, they sucked, and then there was the stupid fucking clown who nearly drowned me, and the Black Cats in Syrup Village trying to kill a girl and there was this man-" you sucked in another breath and squeezed your eyes shut as Roku's face, first vengeful and enraged, and then empty and lifeless flashed through your mind, "-he was going to kill me. He was going to kill me, and he said I wasn't from the North Blue, and I didn't understand, and I wasn't going to get to see Sanji again or you or Patty or anybody, and I didn't mean to, I thought I was gonna die, it wasn't me you have to believe me, I didn't want to-"

You collapsed into Zeff chest, sobs ripping your entire body and he dropped the half crumpled wanted poster on to the desk, wrapping you up and pulling you into his lap like you were still that achy broken little kid that left scars on his cheeks to try and save the one thing that still held some meaning. He rocked you, slow and gentle, not shushing you, just petting your head and rocking, like he had wanted to so badly, like he would have if you had cried that day as a child.

He let you cry yourself out in his lap, face red and runny from tears, and he didn't let you go until you finally pulled back yourself. You settled back into the stool, knees bent awkwardly, and you looked at each other. You cleared your throat.

"Also Luffy's grandfather," you look at Zeff's raised eyebrow, "the pirate boy, his name's Luffy." He oh'd, "his grandfather is a vice-admiral in the Marines, the tall scary one that eats, like, twelve steaks in one go." He ignores your "all medium-rare too" and snorts.

"Yeah. I know the one." He looks you over again, sitting with your arms crossed like you were only barely holding yourself together. "Guessing that's what the bounty's for then?" You look at him. "The first man?" Your lips thin out and you nod.

"He was one of the Black Cat Pirates. He was nasty."

"Still doesn't feel good that you've killed him though, aye?" You shake your head, eyes to the ground. "Good. You don't want it to. Hold on to that feeling. Winning a fight to the death because you want to live is one thing, winning it because you want to kill..." His eyes go distant, memories fogging over his mind for a second before he shakes them away. "Just," he sighs, "don't let yourself enjoy killing. That feeling in your gut, the one making you sick of yourself, that keeps you human. Don't you loose that." You only nod in response as you both sit, quiet once again. He flattens the poster again, smoothing out the creases as he looks it over. "Not bad for a first bounty. Not the worst picture of you either." You snort at him as he chuckles, lifting it clear of his desk.

"I look deranged. Terrifying."

"You look," he takes a tack and pins it to the wall alongside the other pictures and the map, "like a pirate. Definitely one that could take on the Grand Line."

You give him a watery smile, the man who has stood with you for most of your life at this point, and his eyes soften and watch you warmly.

There's a knock at the door. You cough and wipe your face again as Zeff pulls it open, revealing a chuckling Sanji holding a bill. His smile drops when he sees your red face, the swirling aqua and gold more watery then usual and he glares hotly at Zeff for a moment. You both ignore him as Zeff snatches the bill from him to read.

"I'll say Y/n," he flicks his hair from his face, "I didn't know what to make of that 'crew' of yours, but they're turning out to be absolutely hysterical." You watch as Zeff's face slowly turns red, and peer over his shoulder. On the bill is signed 'IOU' and the name 'MONKEY D. LUFFY'.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes!"

"Where they sat?" Zeff is quiet, that's never a good sign.

"Zeff-" You try but Zeff is already heading for the doors to the dining hall.

"Table 11." Your head snaps to Sanji, glaring at the grin he was sporting. "What? He asked!" You ignore him,

"Shit. Zeff!" He busts through the doors calling

"Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?" You see his head, straw hat and all, pop out from the booth.

"Here!"

"You seem to be confused about the rules of the house," The entire kitchen staff had poured out behind you, but you ignored them as you grabbed Zeff's arm, tugging it desperately for his attention,

"Zeff, no! I'll cover it, take it from my pay, my money! I can cover it, just leave him be!" He shushed you and you fell off his arm, shuffling back into Sanji who stood, smiling like a merry fool at the show.

"Baratie doesn't offer credit. You eat, you pay."

You could roll up into a ball and die as you hear your captain begin to speak.

"I think you're confused. The meal has already been paid for. I just haven't given you the money yet." Sanji looks down at you chuckling gently.

"You ok, mon Cœur?"

"I think I'm going to cry again, this is awful."

Zeff sneered at the boy.

"Yeah, and how's that?"

"You can add it to my treasure tab." You had sunk to the floor at this point, your desperate grip on Sanji's leg the only thing keeping you partially upright.

"Please make him stop."

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

"I may not look like a big deal yet, but you're talking with the future King of the Pirates. And as soon as I find the One Piece, I'm gonna come back here, pay this bill in full and with interest."

"Ha, I got a better idea." And Zeff grabs Luffy by the shirt, pulling him with him, past your prone form and the still laughing Sanji, into the kitchen. "What're you chuckling about?" Sanji sobers immediately, helping pull you to your feet as Zeff watches him, "Back to work."

Pushing through the doors behind your captain and your head chef, you listen to him rant.

"You, Mr Future-King-of-the-Pirates, are gonna be my new chore boy. You're gonna pay off your debt washing dishes." With a yelp, Luffy is pushed forward, barely avoiding the tall pile of dishes left by all the patrons.

"All of these?"

"For starters. You gotta remember something, the meal you had with your friends? That's one year's worth of dishes. I'd get a move on if I was you. Second service is in one hour." Behind him the door opens as Sanji re-enters the kitchen, and Zeff turns to him pulling off the suit jacket. "Oy, oy, oy, oy, oy, oy, oy! What you think you're doing?"

"Come on, old man. Enough's enough."

"Put the jacket back on, little eggplant. You're not done with your shift yet."

"Let me back on the line or I walk." Your head snaps round to him, eyes wide while he avoids looking at you, focusing squarely on Zeff.

"You can walk right back into the ocean for all I care. You cook another meal like that in my kitchen, it's going right where the last one did." You look away from the argument, one you heard variations of for years, and followed Luffy's line of sight. Sat precariously on the piles of dishes, is one meal that you don't recognise, still perfectly plated. Two cuts of tuna, seared asparagus resting in a sauce or reduction of some kind.

"You can kick me out of the kitchen all you like. I'll never be a waiter." You join Luffy in tasting the sauce, sweeping a touch up on your pinkie like Sanji and Zeff always did.

"Well that's fine by me. You sure as hell are never gonna be a cook in my restaurant. Have you got it?"

The sweetened sauce makes you smile gently, throwing a wild guess out that this was Sanji's dish. Zeff snarls after him as he walks out the back door, leaving the cooks to their job and you and Luffy to yours. He turns to look at you both as you slip an apron over your head as well, the dark navy matching the one donned by your captain.

"Don't you do his work for him." You ignore him, pulling your long hair from the loop and twirling it from a curly mess of a pony tail into a crooked bun.

"I'm not, I'm a crewmember helping their captain." Zeff's eyes flash to the beaming Luffy as you grab two scrubbers and pull a pair of yellow dish washing gloves up your arms.

"Well," he mutters, "let him do most of the work then, if he's gonna call himself a captain."

"Heard, chef." Zeff snorts and walks out.

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Luffy puffs as he rolls another trolley of dishes into the kitchen, pulling to a stop alongside where you were working, at a much slower pace than normal, with Sanji perched on the counter beside you, handing you dishes.

"Hey choreboy," he snickers, "how's that dish pile coming along?" You don't wait for Luffy to answer.

"It would've been better if somebody had kept up with the pile while I was away, don't you think?" You give him a stink eye as he shies away from you, mouth pulled into a tight apologetic smile. Luffy sighed.

"It never seems to get any smaller."

"You get used to it," you mumble, "It's better at night when service is done. And hey," you nudged him with your elbow, your hands still soapy, "at least this water won't catch fire as easy."

"Yeah, the old man's a real piece of work."

"He's not that bad Sanji."

"Mon cœur, he made you cry."

"That wasn't him, it was..." You sigh. "Other stuff that happened, don't worry about."

"Well now I'm worried. Bet your captain regrets that IOU."

"I don't really do regret. No point in looking back,"

"Lucky you. Sometimes, when I try to look ahead, all I see is back." Luffy lifts another pile of dishes into the water.

"So how long you been a waiter?"

"Oh please don't start." Sanji's finger covers your mouth and he leans forward to correct him.

"I'm not a waiter, I'm a cook. Best one in the East Blue."

"Oh! I knew that already, Y/n told me!" He scoffed, a slight smile on his face as he looked down at you, continuing your scrubbing.

"Not that it matters. As long as the old man's in charge, I'm banned from the line."

"But that meal you cooked was incredible." Your eyes widened and you groan in agreement.

"Soooo good."

"The True Bluefin Sauté?" 

"Yeah."

"You both tried it?"

"Yeah, of course we did! I couldn't help myself." You nudged his knee with a smile.

"Knew it was yours, was too good to be anyone else's'."

"I didn't think the food here could get any better. You know," Luffy spoke thoughtfully, "you're a really good cook. Why is Zeff making you wait tables?" Your eyes roll back at this topic again and mouth along with Sanji as he replies,

"'Cause he's jealous. I should be running this place, but the old man's so stubborn, it'll never happen."

"Is that your dream? To be head chef of the Baratie?" He looks down at you, it was different from what you had said. Sanji laughed and disagreed.

"Nah."

"So you love to cook. You just don't want to cook here?" Sanji flicks his lighter open and lights a cigarette.

"There's, um, this place, Y/n might have told you about it, where you can find ingredients from all four seas. East Blue, West Blue, North and South. They call it the All Blue." Luffy's eye zip to you in recognition, but you're smiling up at Sanji, the familiar thrumming warmth of his dream washing over you in waves. "Nobody knows where it is, but there's fish there that have never been seen. Ya know, rare seaweeds, spices that have never been tasted. It is a cook's paradise, and," his eyes drop from Luffy to you and the small smile on his face grew bigger, "we're gonna find it one day. That's my dream."

"If you want to cook, you should cook. Don't let some stubborn old man get in the way of your dream. Stand up to him, tell him what you want." Sanji's lips press together and you both look at Luffy.

"It's more complicated, than that."

"I don't really do complicated either."

"We noticed, Luf." A small smile twists up your lips.

You're disturbed by a banging against the back door as a voice calls out.

"Help me. Help." Sanji snuffs out his cigarette as the man lets himself in, dirty white tracksuit emblazoned with snakes, and he stumbles, falling to the floor, "Please, help me." He begs as Sanji helps him to sit at the small table.

"You okay?" Sanji mumbles to him as they sit him down.

"I'm so hungry, please." Sanji claps him on the shoulder, moving around the kitchen to grab up ingredients as you set out clean dishes for him to use.

"Okay, you got it, man. How does some corned-beef friend rice sound?" As Sanji paces through the kitchen, Patty comes through wiping his hands.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"At Baratie, everyone eats."

"And who's gonna pay for that? This is a business. We can't be giving handouts to every down-on-his-luck pirate that washes up." You left the opened bag of rice onto the counter and push it towards him, and he fills his pot, shaking out the excess and topping it with water to cook.

"If a man is hungry, I feed him." Sanji moves past the blue haired chef, grabbing the wrapped pack of corned beef.

"Zeff kicked you off the line."

"I don't see the old man here. Do you?"

"Just drop it Patty, come on." He throws his hands up at the pair of you.

"Your funerals." You and Luffy look at each other as Sanji begins to cook.

As the older pirate scarfs down the bowl of rice he breathes heavily.

"I was drifting out there for a week. You saved my life tonight." Sanji smiles up from where he's cleaning his station, you further behind him, trying to finish the still huge pile of dishes Luffy had abandoned.

"You're not only a good cook, you're a good guy." Your captain was perched beside the older man as he ate. "If Zeff doesn't appreciate you, you should join my crew." You shake your head with a smile, you're sure it will take more than that to convince your Sanji to leave the old man. "I'm serious. For real."

You call over your shoulder,

"That doesn't happen often Sanji!"

"Sorry chore boy. I've already got a job." Knew it.

"But you're not happy here. Neither of you are, and Y/n's already agreed to join!" You don't see Sanji's smile drop. "Their family lives on the Grand Line, we can look for them too! And we're gonna need a great cook if we're gonna find the One Piece." You don't notice that Sanji had completely stilled as the pirates spoon clatters into the bowl.

"The One Piece?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna find it and become King of the Pirates."

"We're were searching for it too. I was part of a mighty pirate armada. Our captain was hell-bent on finding Gold Roger's treasure, but the Grand Line was his undoing. We lost 50 ships and 5,000 men. I was the only survivor." The man looks pleadingly at Luffy. "Save yourself. Forget you ever heard of the One Piece."

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Sanji had long since left the kitchen, and you let him. His fury at you was never loud, even when stranded together or raged at by customers and co-workers alike, if he had anger towards you, it always sat, simmering silently. He never yelled, not like he did with Zeff. He and the old man were alike like that, always softening for you to avoid hurting you further. He would stand on the docks or up on the small outcrop outside your shared window and would smoke and fume and fume and smoke, before coming to talk to you.

You knew he wasn't pleased about Luffy saying you were leaving, so you left him to think and smoke and fume. You would find him later, or he would find you. You always did.

You had finally given up doing the dishes. Leaving the rest to Luffy, you were sitting off to the side stretching your shaking hands, now devoid of washing gloves. Being tired always made the shaking and stiffness worse, and scrubbing for hours on end always left them aching, so you dug your curled and stiff knuckles into the palms to relieve the aching.

"Right, we done yet?" You turn to Zeff as he walks up and wince as Luffy sends plates crashing to the ground to shatter. You drop your forehead on to your hands. Zeff snorts at him. "You're lousier at it then Y/n, but at least you do as you're told in this kitchen."

"If you think Sanji's gonna give up on his dream because of you, then forget it." Zeff peered down at you and you shook your head defeated. Luffy wasn't going to give up on this tirade until he was given the full story, and that wasn't up to you alone. You would let one of the two men share it with him.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Luffy advanced on to Zeff, standing nearly toe-to-toe with the man. "You may have banned him from the line, but you can't stop him from cooking."

"Oh really?

"Luffy-" you tried to cut in but he was on a roll.

"Yeah, really. This starving pirate washed up earlier, and you know what Sanji did? He cooked for him! Right here in your kitchen, because your rules matter less to him than making sure a hungry man got fed." You release a long sigh and prop your head on your hand, watching as Zeff lets out a quiet laugh.

"He did that, did he? What a good kid."

Before he could continue, Usopp barges through the doors swaying dangerously. You stand to right him as he gestures back behind him.

"Luffy, we've got a problem."

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"Maybe you can convince him to call it off." Nami's voice sounded from the galley as you Luffy and Usopp walked in.

"I won't do that."

"Did you see the size of that guy's sword? He will slice you into sashimi."

"What's going on?"

"Yeah, who are we talking about here?"

"I'll tell you what's going on." Nami rounded on Luffy, "Your big, bad Marine grandpa sent a Warlord of the Sea to bring you in, and instead of getting the hell out of here when he had the chance, Zoro challenged him to a duel."

"Which he accepted."

"Oh." The noise fell from your mouth before you could stop it. "Mihawk then."

Nami and Zoro's eyes snap to you.

"You knew?"

"I saw him when I saw your dream. He's..." you hesitated looking for the right word. "...good. The best, really." You wring your hands together and squeeze, "I don't know if this is the right time for you to fight him though."

"So you're a magical alarm clock now too?" Zoro sneered. Nami turned her arguments to him again.

"You are a fly to him. Something to be swatted and forgotten."

"Not if I win."

"You're not going to win."

"Guys, guys, maybe we need more drinks." You stare at him as he waves his hat.

"Usopp, you smell like one of the fish bowl cocktails we serve, you don't need anymore alcohol." You look around the table, "None of us do, not at the moment." Nami looks to Luffy.

"Tell your first mate he's going to get himself killed." Zoro interrupted her sentence before she was done.

"Tell your navigator and your compass to butt out." Luffy shrugged.

"Maybe this isn't such a great idea Zoro."

"When you met me tied up on that cross, what did I say?" You and Luffy begin to answer.

"'Get lost.'."

"'What makes you think I wanna play pirates with you?'."

Zoro rolled his eyes at you both.

"No the other thing."

"'You don't know anything about me.'?"

"'I kill your kind for a living.'?"

"No! Come-" he groans but looks up at you. You realise what he's saying and turn away, looking at the floor as Luffy 'oh's beside you.

"That you made a promise to someone a long time ago to be the world's greatest swordsman."

"The only way to do that is to beat Mihawk in a duel and take his title. I intend to do just that."

"But," you stutter out, "you don't have to do it now." You glance at Nami and Usopp who are nodding in agreement, "You can take a bit longer, there isn't a time limit on these things-"

"SHUT-" You flinch as he slams his fist down on the table and growls to himself, "You have no idea what you're talking about. All this spouting of wanting to help people achieve their dreams and whatever and you're sitting here completely aimless, following around whoever decides to give you the time of day. You have," he spits out at you, "no idea."

You stand frozen as the argument continues around you. Nami tells off Zoro and Luffy, yelling that he's her friend before he snubs her too. As she pushes back from the table, she walks out and you follow her, returning to Baratie for the night.

Walking down the stairs to the staff quarters above the restaurant and dining room, you pass Zeff and a few of the other cooks, including Patty, eating quietly in the small kitchen/dining area that you all use. The large pot of fried rice with egg and whatever meats that could be chucked in sat on the stove pot. 

Your stomach turned at the smell, appetite none existent after the argument. You don't see them turn to watch you, or Zeff stopping them from calling out to you as you wander up the stairs to your room.

You push open the door to see the window wide open and Sanji's back is to you, already dressed for bed as he leaned against the railing, looking over the water with a cigarette in his hand. You don't bother turning on the lamp. When he didn't turn to greet you, you left him be, instead shuffling behind the changing screen to slip on some of random strewn-about clothes to sleep in. You hang up your coat on the coat hook on the back of the door and move to your bed, the blankets and pillows littering the single mattress. It was messier than you left it, but you assume at some point Sanji had decided to swap, his own crisply pressed sheets tucked in tight and untouched, the only spot of colour being the fluffy blue cushion you always left there when he makes his bed. He did so sometimes, if you were away longer than intended, commandeering your space until your return.

You drop face down on to the bed, and lay there, arm hanging off the side, crossing the halfway point of the tiny box room you and Sanji have shared since forever. Your calves are bare in the sleep shorts you donned, the scratches littering them from the gravel at Kaya's mansion and the bruising from the fall down the hill are left to the open air, and scruffy old t-shirt leaving your chains uncovered too, the spot where they meet your wrists still red raw. You hear Sanji shuffle, snuffing out his cigarette and clambering back inside, pulling the window closed behind him. You hear the sheets rustle as he pulls them down and slips into them, probably shoving your cushion into the wall so he didn't lie on it.

Then you both lie, in silence, the only sound being each others breathing.

A beat.

"I think," you break the silence, quiet voice louder than you meant in the stillness, "my friend is going to die."

Sanji doesn't reply.

But in the darkness, you feel as his hand drops into your palm, fingers interweaving with yours.

And you fall into the most comfortable sleep you'd had in days, eased by the smell of home and the warmth of his hand in yours.

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As the sun rises in the morning, you walk on to the Going Merry and go down into the galley, where Zoro stood arming himself.

He stands with his back to you, and doesn't turn except to slide the trio of sheaths into his belt loops. You pull and squeeze at your fingers, twining them together and cracking your knuckles, the pain shooting across them a welcome distraction, if only for a second.

"I don't think you'll listen to me," you begin, voice soft but your words desperate to escape, "I'm not surprised. I felt your dream, I felt the pain it brings you, and the determination." He turns his ear closer to you, black bandana obscuring his hair. "I don't know her name, but I could feel how important she was to you, how important she still is to you. And me asking you this isn't to lessen her importance, or to make you give up on your dream all together. I just think," you stumble for the words, tongue growing heavy as he stands completely rigid, "would it not be better, to train, and to know you can beat him easily, rather than just saying 'screw it he's here now' and dying in the process?"

His hand rests on the hilt of his sword. You purse your lips and hesitate, but the words come out anyway.

"Would she want you dead too?"

It was the worst thing to say.

You know that as soon as it comes out of your mouth, but you don't have time to regret it, as Zoro pulls the sword, the one with the white hilt she had wielded, free of its holding, and swipes at you. You drop to the ground, rolling away from his next swing and back out the door. He follows, stopping in the door frame and filling it completely.

"Don't you ever ask me something like that-" he growled out,

"I'm sorry, it wasn't-"

"-you know nothing about me," he marches on you again, and you move back further, scrambling up the stairs backwards as your hands hit them,

"-I know, I'm sorry-"

"You know nothing about her, about my history, my promises-"

"-I just-"

"-don't you dare show your face at this duel, or I will-"

"-I JUST DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE!" You cut him off completely, and you both stop, panting as he glared down at you. You swallow harshly, your eyes beginning to water in frustration. "Winning a fight to the death because you want to live is one thing, doing it, fighting him like this just because you want to the title..." You shake your head of the thoat, "No matter what promises you made Zoro, you're just as scared as we are, you just can't let yourself admit."

His face darkens with anger again.

"Don't-" You cut him off.

"Don't try and tell me you're not. I've seen this plenty of times, I was raised on it." You take a deep breath and stand, putting yourself toe-to-toe and face-to-face with him. "You can't fulfil your dream if you're dead Roronoa Zoro. I respect that you want to win," your voice cracks, "but you cannot become the greatest swordsman dead." You blink and pull back, turning to walk up the stairs and leave him to his preparations.

"Nakayoshi." You stop at his voice and turn to look down at him, face blank. "Don't come down to the duel this morning. Stay with your waiter. I'm sure they'll have some use for you, scrubbing dishes or something." His words leave him with bite, but your face doesn't shift.

You're so tired.

"Please don't die Zoro." You reply with no emotion, "for her sake, and your own." You turned.

And you left.

Next Chapter: Mon Cœur Est Un Petit Âne

[kinzis-writing]

Better than Revenge | Mattheo Riddle [6]

The end of the school year is approaching, and Y/N is trying to make a plan to flee from her house. Where could she go that the death eaters wouldn’t find her? Better yet, how could she manage her relationship with Mattheo.

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Y/N Nettleby

Warning(s): a few cuss words, mentions of sexual material, out of character Mattheo, soft! Mattheo, ooc theo. mentions of smoking.

vi. “what if all i need is you?”

Chapter Six

Note: Long time no see! I went ahead and tagged everyone who I had for my list, if you wish for your tag to be removed just let me know! If I forgot someone, just let me know and I’ll fix it. ☺️ I’m finally done with school; I took my last final yesterday. This means that I know have time to update so it should be finished by July! 🫶🏼

Word Count: 4k

*Not proofread or edited* — *Gif Not mine*

It had been a month or two since students came back to Hogwarts from their holiday breaks. Since then, everyone at Hogwarts had noticed a difference between Y/N and Mattheo. Their relationship seemed to flow naturally, and they did not look to be on edge. Everyone knew that things had changed during winter break, even Hermione had figured it out and confronted the Gryffindor group about it in front of the Nettleby girl. Y/N obviously told them the truth about how they had connected over the course of the break and had admitted that everything from two years ago to now was just in their feelings. It was safe to say that Hermione, Ron, and Harry did not approve and had nothing nice to say.

Y/N had taken off and headed towards the library knowing that finals were coming up soon and she wanted to give her friends time to come to terms with her having feelings for the Riddle boy. They needed time to adjust to the information and she was more than happy to give it to them when needed. She truly understood both sides of the people in her life. She knew the golden trio only seen her boyfriend as Tom Riddle’s son, the same way that Mattheo only seen Harry and all his friends as an enemy because of his father. She could see and understand the conflict from both sides, but she hated that she was in the middle of the battlefield.

Y/N was knocked out of her thoughts as a tall figure fell into steps with her, “Been awhile. I almost did not recognize you without your boytoy on your hip.” The voice of Theodore Nott spoke up as he made sure to keep up with her. She was not in the mood to deal with the stuff from her ex-boyfriend, usually she avoided him or let Mattheo handle to conflict as he knew how to take care of his friends. The last time she had seen Theo was when they were at the family dinner months ago.

Y/N Nettleby rolled her eyes and came to a halt to keep him from following her any further, “What do you want Theodore?” she asked annoyed, crossing her arms over her chest as the boy stepped in front of her.

Theodore made sure he was facing her and leaving little room between the two, “a little birdie told me that your relationship with Riddle was a ploy. A way for you to make me jealous.” He spoke with amusement in his voice.

Y/N let out a laugh while looking over her ex, “and you believe that because?” she asked and trailed off for him to answer her question. When he did not say anything, but still held himself with a smirk and arrogance, she knew that he wouldn’t leave without a fight. “Listen, if you’re still pissed about us having sex, get over it. It is MY body Theo and I decide who I want in it.” She snapped her anger growing at the tall boy in front of her. “… and who I don’t.” she added hoping to strike a nerve.

“If you honestly think your relationship with Mattheo is real, you’re sadly mistaken.” Theo replied dangerously low. Y/N could tell that he was angry, but she wouldn’t fear him or back down. She knew how to take on Theodore whether she acted like she did or not. “He told me himself that he doesn’t believe in love, that he doesn’t believe in relationships.”

Y/N shook her head, “People change Theodore.” She stated, knowing that his only fight would be to try and ruin what the couple had built. “The sooner you realize that he’s using you, the easier the heartbreak will be.” The Nott boy muttered to the girl in front of him. “Did he tell you why he dated you so easily, and do not say it’s because he “cares” or “loves” you” Y/N glared at the boy in front of her. What did she ever see in him, she didn’t know. “He wanted to get close to Harry and your friends. He is doing his mother and father’s dirty work, and he knows if he gains all your trust that you’ll give him the information he needs to know.”

Y/N’s heart was thumping, because she knew that Mattheo had his own reason to start the plan and what if her ex was right? It didn’t change what had happened over the break, but to think that she would agree so easily without knowing what he fully wanted made her nervous.

“What the hell did I tell you about staying away from my girlfriend, Nott.” The voice of Mattheo Riddle spoke up from behind the Gryffindor girl. Theo’s smirk never wavered as he took in his ex’s appearance in front of him. He knew that she was considering what he had said. “What do you want with her?”

Theo wasn’t startled by the boy who was talking to him. If anything, he expected it. He knew that Mattheo had feelings for the girl. Mainly because Riddle had never shown any kind of emotion the way he had around Y/N. “Just shedding some light for your sweet little Y/N.” He replied.

Mattheo took Y/N’s appearance into account before stepping in the small space between the two. Her body language was obviously uncomfortable, and her eyes were still glaring into her ex. “Whatever you felt the need to tell her is irrelevant. Leave her alone if you know what is good for you.” Mattheo snarled before grabbing Y/N by the hand and leading her towards the library where he assumed she was going.

The couple didn’t say anything, but Mattheo did take a detour, leading them out towards the black lake. Knowing that they could have alone time there and he also wouldn’t get in trouble for smoking. The couple sat on the ground making sure to face the lake. Mattheo had an idea of what Theo wanted to talk about, mainly because Enzo had come to the boy this morning and told him that Theodore was telling everyone that his relationship was fake.

“It wasn’t your smartest idea to bring me with you when you’re smoking.” Y/N mumbled as she picked at the green grass beside her. Her gaze quickly turning to the calm water in front of her, yet she knew what lingered in there. “Besides I have studying that needs to be done.”

Mattheo blew out a puff of smoke while analyzing her demeanor, “What did he say to you?” he asked softly noticing the way you were acting. It made him anxious, knowing that Theo knew some information that could make you think differently of him. He held out hope that you wouldn’t judge him if you ever found out because for the longest time, he just wanted to make his father and mother proud. Now he could care less.

Y/N’s gaze remained on the black lake while her boyfriend was smoking, “you know how Theo is when he’s jealous.” She shrugged, bringing her knees up to her and tucking them into her chest.

“You don’t have to be hesitant to talk to me.” Mattheo muttered looking away from the girl that he was starting to fall for.

Y/N sighed, “he just said that you don’t believe in love or relationships and that you’re just using me to get to Harry and my friends. He also said that he “heard” that our relationship was fake.” She shrugged trying to make it seem like it was nothing. Most of it was nothing, she was starting to fall in love with the boy beside her and she didn’t really care how it went. Riddle took an inhale of his cigarette before slowly exhaling while he processed the information that he had just heard. “You were the reason I didn’t do relationships.” He spoke softly and quietly. He avoided her gaze as he crushed his cigarette to the ground to stop it from burning. “I have been drawn to you since I met you formally at the Malfoys Christmas party five years ago. It took me almost a year just to start talking to you and gaining you as a friend. Sean had talked about his sister but for the longest time, but I never looked at anyone that wasn’t in Slytherin.” He started explaining and moved his gaze from the ground to the black lake. He could feel y/n’s eyes burning into him. “I liked you before we even became friends, but I felt as if I didn’t know you enough to feel like that, so I pushed it down and then we got close. I convinced myself that I was wrong for you, and you fell into the arms of Nott.”

Y/N carefully scooted herself over, so her side was pressed up against his, “what about after that night?” She asked carefully, wanting to know what went through his mind three years ago. “You avoided me, acted like you hated me, and then I got with Theo.”

The riddle boy wasn’t sure what to say. He understood why he did what he did, but when he thought about it, it was dumb and selfish. “I was worried that you would regret it, and I knew the life you were trying to make for yourself. It didn’t involve my dad’s army and I knew I wouldn’t have a choice. You deserved better and you still do, but I want you to do whatever makes you happy and if that’s being with me then I’m not denying.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around his arm and laid her head on his shoulder, “I didn’t regret it. I love you, Teo. I know that you may not want to say that yet and that’s fine. I just want you to know that I’m not going anywhere, I wanted you instead of Theodore this whole time.” She finally admitted. It felt good to get that secret off her chest, all those times that she had wished she were with Mattheo instead of Theodore.

Mattheo gently placed his head on top of hers, “I agreed to the plan for two reasons. I wanted to show you what being with me would be like and at first, I did think I could get close to Harry. But I wasn’t planning to use you or getting information out of you.” He told her honestly knowing that it was best to tell the truth instead of trying to dodge it.

Y/N gently pulled her head out from his and looked up at him, “thank you for being honest.” She whispered and gave him a small smile. Mattheo nodded knowing that as long as he’s honest with her that they could get through anything. Mattheo carefully leaned forward and captured her lips with his. Wanting nothing more than to be able to feel her next to him.

Off in the distance an angry Theodore watched the couple, knowing that the information about the said relationship being fake was untrue.

A few days later Y/N sat snuggled up on Mattheo’s lap in the Slytherin common room while the couple talked to Enzo, Draco, Pansy, and Sean. A couple of Slytherin’s had joined in on the conversation who everyone called Astoria and Daphne, Astoria was the youngest, and was only in her third or fourth year.

“Y/N, what’s your plans for the summer?” Pansy asked, everyone turning to the girl that hadn’t said much. Sean knew that she was trying to come up with a way to not return to their house. Knowing that the dark mark awaited her the second she stepped into the house.

Mattheo gave her a little squeeze from where his hand was sitting on her side, “I, I was thinking about looking for a place on my own.” She spoke after a few minutes of being silent. “I’m at the age of consent and we’ll be finishing up here soon.” She tried to make her plans sound casual and not like she was in a rush to leave her current living situation.

Just as she was hoping, no one thought much of what the girl had said and went into their own conversations. While everyone was arguing over their life and what they were going to do the next two months, Y/N and Mattheo had managed to sneak off and go towards the dorms.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but is Daphne always like that?” Y/N asked as Mattheo shut the door behind them. It felt nice to get away from the Slytherin friend group, while it was nice to see what her boyfriend and brother are up too, she missed her friends and, in some ways, it reminded her of them.

“She’s probably a bit tipsy.” Mattheo replied while shaking his head at his friend’s downstairs. “She’s had a bit of a problem since her boyfriend dumped her.” He added joining Y/N to his bed.

“Understandable.” Y/N nodding knowing that she would probably be tipsy most of the time if Mattheo left her.

“So… about you looking for a place in a few weeks.”

Y/N nodded knowing that he knew the reason, but she had yet to talk to him about it. “Yeah. I know running from my parents isn’t going to work forever but maybe it will for a bit.” She explained. It was going to be hard looking for somewhere to stay, but she knew that it was possible “Have you heard from your family?” she asked carefully, knowing how the boy in front of her hated talking about his parents. He acted cold and distant around school but deep down she knew that he just wanted to keep the intimidating façade up.

“She’s probably with my father.” Mattheo muttered loosening his tie due to him feeling like he’s suffocating just thinking about the plan they’re creating. “Just waiting for me to get home.”

“You don’t have to let them control you- “She started only to be cut off by a scoff from him.

“They’ll kill me, Y/N.” He snapped. He didn’t mean to get hostile but knowing he’d be back to school with the dark mark worried him about her wellbeing.

“You’re their son.” Y/N argued.

“That doesn’t matter, if they don’t want to do it his minions will.” Mattheo argued back with her.

Y/N stayed quiet knowing that he understood his father’s army better than anyone. Since he had stayed with death eaters his whole life. No doubt they were always looking for a way to bring him back. “You’re just going to take the mark? No fights.” She asked knowing that he would obey his so-called parents. Sometimes Y/N wonders how Mattheo turned out the way he did because he did not let his family define who he was. Yes, he acted like a dick around school but how he acts around his friends and the people he cares about was another story. Had Harry not described to her what Tom Riddle looked like in his Hogwarts days, Y/N would guess that his father was someone completely different.

Mattheo didn’t want to answer the question that she had asked him. Did he want to be like his father? No. Would he follow him? Probably. Not because he wanted to but because deep down, he was scared but he would never admit that. “The only thing I am going to promise you is that I’ll try my best to protect you from my family.” He whispered, not even knowing if he could accomplish that but he knew that he would gladly take any blame, curse, or punishment for keeping Y/N safe.

Y/N’s gaze softened at his promise, all her questions about his family gone. Knowing that it didn’t matter what happened, because overall, she wasn’t turning her back on the boy in front of her. “I love you.” She assured him. Again, she knew how hard it was for him to say any words of that sort, so she didn’t expect to hear it back. She just knew that he would need those reminders for the days to come.

Without letting him even consider saying it back, she gently placed her lips on his. One of the first times that she had initiated the kiss first, but she knew that he didn’t mind. Her hand came up and landed gently on his jaw line while one of his moved to the back of her neck and the other one wrapped around her hand that laid on his face. Y/N gently pulled back; her eyes still closed as Mattheo started trailing kisses down her neck. The boy gently pushed her back so she would hit his soft mattress and give him better access to all of her.

Mattheo hovered over her as he connected their lips again. It was clear to Y/N that he needed her in a way that he hadn’t had her for two years. She would be lying if she said she didn’t want him like that as well. During their make out session, she helped him slide his blazer off and untie his tie. She had quickly gotten out of her clothes as well, making sure to be as problem free as possible.

“Good?” he asked carefully. Y/N knew what he was asking, because she knew that he sometimes didn’t get the right words out or he just wasn’t used to saying a couple words. No matter who he had been with, it had been consentful, but he always made sure before they removed the clothes. “Are you sure?” He corrected knowing that being with Y/N made him want to get over what he thought was weakness and showing emotion.

“Yes.” She nodded, being the green light for him to go further. Which was exactly what he was waiting for.

The aftercare had been just as great as the sex, at least to Y/N. She had fallen asleep laying on Mattheo’s bare chest, the sheet and blanket keeping them covered if anyone would dare to enter the boy’s dormitory. Mattheo was awake, smoking a cigarette because he didn’t want to wake her up from her slumber. He had kicked the habit of smoking in the dorm, but he was desperate, and he had waited until Y/N fell asleep because he didn’t want to leave right after.

Y/N had fallen asleep talking to the boy after that had done their activities and he was gently running his hand along her bare back. After taking his last puff of his cigarette, he used his old tray to squish it and quit the burning. He blew out the last of the smoke just as the dorm room door burst open. A Theodore that looked like a kicked puppy entered the room followed by Sean.

“You lose them how you gain them.” Sean told Theo not noticing the couple in bed yet. Theo went to reply to his friend but stopped when he noticed Mattheo’s bed was occupied. Sean followed his line of sight only to quickly cover his eyes even though nothing was exposed. “I’m out.” Sean muttered before turning and exiting the room. “Better not knock her up, riddle.” He joked on his way-out causing Mattheo to roll his eyes.

Theo avoided eye contact, but his eyes were raking over the parts of Y/N’s bare back that was exposed. The riddle boy was growing annoyed having his friends eye wonder over his girl’s body. He had finally gotten her after Theo screwed up and he wasn’t letting her go.

“Can I help you with something?” Mattheo asked in an annoyed tone. He tightened his arm around his girl that was laying on his chest. “I would appreciate it if you stopped loo- “

“Do you love her?” Theodore asked, moving his eyes to meet the one who used to be his best friend before he treated his ex-girlfriend like shit and pushed her into the arms of his best friend.

“That’s between us.” Mattheo stated his anger starting to show.

Theodore shook his head, “If you don’t love her, let her go.” He told the riddle boy knowing, well, thinking that he couldn’t love someone. “I know you like her, but if you can’t love her then she deserves someone who can.” The friend and ex knew that he was pushing boundaries, but he didn’t care.

Mattheo scoffed, “someone like you?” he grumbled.

Theodore shook his head, “No. I couldn’t love her the right way either.” He admitted watching the way Y/N’s breathing was smooth, showing sure signs that she was asleep.  “We both know the life that’s coming for us in a few months and she’s the only one I know from a family like ours that has a heart like hers.”

Mattheo couldn’t argue with that, considering her family were purebloods, Slytherins, and death eaters, she had the heart of someone like the Weasleys. She wanted to see the good in many people, but she kept to herself. It was a no brainer as to why the sorting hat chose Gryffindor because she was the farthest thing from her family. She was what they would consider an outcast because she wasn’t like them and didn’t have the wants and desires of her family.

“I do.” Mattheo sighed looking at the boy who he had hated the past couple of months. “I do feel like that towards her, and I just can’t bring myself to say it.”

“It’s because we’ve never fully felt it that way before.”

Once Theodore had left, Mattheo had sat in his thoughts. He knew that his friend made a good point, but he could say that he did in fact love the girl who was stirring in his arms. He did, every time he went to say it nothing came out or it was like his mouth wouldn’t move. Maybe because he had been told growing up that love was a sign of weakness and that Slytherin’s, especially Tom Riddle’s son, does not show emotion.

Whatever the case may be, the boy was knocked out of his thoughts by a low groan, “Why did you let me sleep?” A groggy Y/N mumbled when she woke up. She let out a big yawn before moving her head up to look at Mattheo’s gaze, “I should have studied after.” She mumbled relaxing again at the action of Mattheo running his hand along her back.

“Don’t worry yourself studying so much.” He muttered gently making sure to keep her comfortable. “You’re the smartest girl I know.”

“That’s Hermione.” Y/N argued in a tired voice.

Mattheo didn’t say anything, but he disagreed with her. She was by far the smartest girl that he knew and had he not been who he was, they could have been prefects together with how they acted. The fact that she was in the situation that she was in broke his heart, because he knew that it was his father’s fault. “What was your life like… before you were sorted?” He wanted to know if her parents had always favored Sean or if it was just because their daughter was in Gryffindor.

She sighed, “Not as bad. My parents thought that their kids would be following in their footsteps and when word got around that I was in Gryffindor, they acted colder towards me. My mom told me that I should be glad they have a reason to keep me around because I was an embarrassment to the family name.” She mumbled, her fingers drawing shapes on her boyfriend’s chest to manage her anxiety.

“Hey,” He stopped her hand gently knowing it was an anxiety tick. “No matter what happens we’ll be the last ones standing, together.” He promised. He had no authority to promise that, but he would make it his mission to make sure they were okay no matter what his father’s army did. No matter what they go home too and must turn into.

“I hope you’re right.”

*Not edited!*

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Again, if I missed anyone let me know! It has been a while and my old computer deleted the list I previously had written out. If you no longer wish to be tagged don't hesitate to let me know. 🫶😊

[dawntilduskclan]

Damn it sounds like living in Mapleclan kinda sucked, I wonder if anybody should do anything about that

The boys finally get to have some proper introductions and Chanterelleclaw is here! He made a brief cameo in the prologue but now he gets to speak. He and Nightstar have a lot of history and it seems like Nightstar has a things she still has yet to let go of.

Also, it's been a year since I uploaded the prologue! I wish I could have gotten more chapters out in that time, but I'm determined to stick with this project for as long as I can. And thank you all for supporting me thus far :)

Previous / Next

[night-market-if]

The new interactions with malcolm in chapter 6 are EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING DAMN YOU

That was my favorite part to write! There is something about him that is just so soothing and sexy. That man is quickly becoming one of my favorites to write. There is an upcoming scene in chapter seven that just makes me melt.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Part 6

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader

Themes: Soft

Warnings: Mention of Elwing casting herself into the sea prior to the beginning of the story | Mentions of other character deaths prior to the beginning of the story

Wordcount : 3.1K words

Summary: Thranduil attends the feast held in honor of Angon taking Nitiel to wife.

Minors DNI

Masterlist

Thranduil’s POV

The feast Lord Thiliedir and Lady Annien held in honor of their son taking Nitiel to wife was a most splendid affair. 

Guests came from all over Amon Lanc. They poured through wide open doors leading to a vast garden, dressed in their finest furs and silks. Gold and silver, rubies and emeralds, glittered around the throats and lips and ears and wrists of many. Newly forged circlets rested amidst dark, crimson, and silver-gold hair that had been combed into intricate braids. Some of the visitors bore the marks of beasts and leaves and flowers along their arms and along their cheeks. Heralds called out the names of each new visitor, and attendants walked amidst the invited elves, their hands heavy with gilded pitchers full of wine and trays full of delicate pastries. Thranduil stood by his father’s side, observing lords and ladies joining an ever-growing line of those wishing to offer their felicitations to the newly wedded pair.  

“The marriage of Lord Angon and his lady has been well received.” Oropher nursed his chalice of wine, while minstrels kept to the grotto set aside for their use during the festivities. The music they played and the songs they sang drifted around the garden, barely heard over the chatter of elves and the clinking of glass. “I confess, I expected to hear and see quite the opposite when I was told the news.” 

“Were you hoping to witness the tearing of hair and the gnashing of teeth?” Thranduil whispered. He sipped his wine and then smiled. “Lord Angon’s lady mother and lord father are too well bred for such theatrics. So are their kin. If they truly are unhappy with their son taking a servant to wife, then they have taken great care not to show it.” 

“You are studying those who serve us,” said Oropher. “That is a good thing, my son. Continue it. It will serve you well should my crown pass on to you.” 

Thranduil shivered. His lord father’s demise was not a matter he wished to consider. “It will not happen,” he replied, “for you will live on for more ages than you could care to count, and then we will both take a ship leaving for the Blessed Realm so that we can be reunited with my mother.”

“That is my hope also,” his father returned. “But so long as Belegûr’s servants remain abroad, we must prepare ourselves for the dark possibility of my perishing in this land. Do you understand me, my son?” 

“Yes, father,” Thranduil told him, albeit reluctantly. 

Oropher clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Enough of such talk. Come! Let us join the throng!”  

The throng had grown in size by the time they joined them, and they had grown more carefree despite the late autumn chill. Golden lamps adorned the low-hanging branches of trees, their light limning all those who stood beneath them. Trestle tables had been arranged at the far end of the garden, with a raised dais facing them. Kitchen attendants were occupied slowly turning wooden spits and roasting wild boar and deer over a fire pit, basting the meat with honey and herbs until it crackled. The smell of freshly baked bread and pies wafted from the nearby kitchen. Even the tables themselves had large bowls placed in the center, all filled with wild berries, cheese, and olives brought in from Esgaroth. More wine was served, along with ale and mead. Thranduil joined his father while he spoke to the others, taking great care to listen to all that was being said and answering any question that was asked of him. 

It was an aspect Thranduil had long prepared himself for: the tediousness of everyday duties. He had to attend council meetings even when he wished to do nothing more than lay in bed; he had to hear out supplicants that came to him, begging for a listening ear; and he had to speak to elven nobles he had no desire to speak to, all while having a warm smile or a look of deep concern on his face. All of this he did splendidly well, which pleased his father greatly.  

“Now all you need is a bride who might one day make a fine queen,” Oropher said when they had a moment to themselves again. “Someone worthy of you, and of course, someone worthy of the crown that would rest amidst her hair.”  

‘Tis the same song as always, Thranduil thought. He forced himself not to sigh. “I will wed when my own household is ready, father,” he said through gritted teeth, and he set his jaw in determination. “And I will decide for myself whom I should marry. Me, father, and no other. Any command for me to bind myself to a stranger in a marriage of political convenience will be answered with a swift and certain no.” 

“I swear to Eru, my boy, you can be as stubborn as your beloved mother sometimes.” Oropher laughed. “And I understand the need to wait until your household is ready to receive a mistress. Pray tell me what is becoming of the halls our builders are making for you.” 

They spoke at length while they made their way to the dais. Angon and Nitiel had already taken the seats of high honor, and the king and the crown prince took their places on either side of them. Then the mother and father of Angon, and the mother and father of Nitiel, took their seats accordingly.  

Angon only waited a moment before rising, his cup in hand. “Let us drink!” He cried. “A toast, my friends! To Lady Nitiel! My wife and the companion of my life!”  

The others rose and lifted their cups. “Lady Nitiel!” They shouted as one. Nitiel flushed, and she bowed her head as a gesture of thanks.  

The first course was a dish of soup made of leeks and mushrooms, served in glazed green bowls. Lady Annien took the first spoonful to taste, and the others were served after she gave her approval. 

Lady Nitiel looks so different now, Thranduil thought. The lady who once served in the kitchens was dressed in robes sewn especially for the feast, and with colors that matched those on her husband’s tunic. Green velvet slashed with cloth of gold adorned her person. New gold caught the light of nearby lamps as they lay around her throat and around her wrists. More gold gleamed where it lay in her auburn hair. It had been combed into elaborate plaits and then arranged in a style he did not recognize.  

The gold and the robes must be gifts, no doubt, Thranduil thought, from her doting husband. The way her hair has been arranged, on the other hand…

“Forgive me,” he leaned in and said, “for asking this, but who arranged your hair?” 

Nitiel leaned in as well and lowered her voice. She did not wish for the king to hear what she had to say. “Y/n, my lord,” she said. “She helped me dress, and then she arranged my hair for me. It is the style favored by those who dwelled in a city called Alqualondë, she said, but without the adornments of shells and pearls.” 

Thranduil knew of Alqualondë, having heard the tales told by Lady Galadriel. “The style favored by the elves of Alqualondë?” he whispered, “and not the kind favored by her own people?” 

“She thought the sight of it might anger the king.”     

“Of course. It was wise of her to make such a choice. And it was thoughtful of her as well, to help you prepare for this feast.” 

The next course was a dish of sage and potato tarts, and the course that came after that was a dish of roasted boar and venison with stewed carrots and potatoes that had been boiled to a mash and mixed with cream. Thranduil ate with great relish, and he ate in silence.  

Y/n would have had to have learned the art of such arrangements from her mother, as she was born long after the first kinslaying. And it would have served her well during the years she spent wandering from one place to the next, perhaps even keeping her safe, as the few who served the sons of Fëanor and remained in the new land they had come to call home found little welcome wherever they went.  

There is the grandson, he remembered. Why did y/n not go to Lord Celebrimbor? 

It was a question he had asked when he first procured her freedom, and it was a question he thought of asking her himself, as those who held her could not give him an answer. Until the opportunity to do so presented itself, he would have to bide his time. 

A minstrel plucked at the strings of a high harp while another sang, her voice as sweet and clear as a bell. It was nowhere as lovely as Tinúviel’s otherworldly voice, Thranduil thought, nor was it as bewitching as her lady mother’s. Still, it was enchanting to hear, and a tear came to his eye when he remembered Menegroth in all of its glory. He harkened back to the days of his youth, when nightingales would make their nests in little nooks and crannies that dotted the great city of many caves, where flowers of rare beauty would bloom to life during the spring, where Daeron played the harp and Tinúviel sang, and they were sheltered from the darkness that tainted the lands beyond their own. Then the sons of Fëanor came to reclaim what was taken from their father, they had said, and to seek justice for the slaying of their grandfather.  

The sons of Fëanor came, Thranduil thought as he drained the last of his wine. The sons of Fëanor fought. And the sons of Fëanor perished. Thranduil set down his chalice when a dish of gammon pie was set before him. And the line of Melian and Thingol nearly ended because of them and that blasted Oath of theirs. 

Grief and bitterness gathered around his heart like a swarm of angry bees. Thranduil still remembered King Dior and his queen, Lady Nimloth. He remembered their sons, twins who were all of three when their father came into his inheritance, and he remembered the dreadful winter that brought about an end to Dior’s reign, the tragic fate that befell his sons, his queen, and the great city of caves they all called home.   

And then there was the daughter, the princess who was forced to abandon her own children as she was once forced to abandon her home, and cast herself into the sea after those who sought the Silmaril came for her. That too angered Thranduil—that swords were raised against those who fled the violence that fell upon their once-fair city. He remembered the dark words that were brought to them on a night with the moon and stars hidden behind thick clouds. Perhaps that was a sign, a portend of the dreadful message they were to receive. His father gave the order for their warriors to march, but by the time they reached the Havens, it was already too late. 

At least Elwing's sons lived, he thought, and I pray word of their living lives of great renown reached her ears in the Blessed Realm.  

He took the pie with both hands and bit into it. The meat melted in his mouth, as did the pastry that held it. And it tasted almost like ash against his tongue. Thoughts of the lives lost because of an Oath that could never be fulfilled tainted whatever joy the prince would have found in the food he ate. He waived away all further offers of refreshments, claiming that he was already full. 

I need to step away for a moment, he told himself, and free myself from such dark and dismal thinking.  

He rose and excused himself. “Pray allow me to take my leave of you all for a moment or two,” he said. “I will return soon enough.” 

“Of course, my lord,” Lady Nitiel said. Thranduil bowed deeply and took his leave of them. 

The air outside the manse was no less fragrant. This time, the smells that greeted him were of night-blooming flowers and not the scents of delectable dishes being brought to the table. He walked toward a nearby marble pond, listening to the little waterfall bubbling at the far end of it. There was no other elf to be seen. Most were at the feast. Others were keeping a watchful eye along the city’s high walls or tending to their duties in the palace itself, and there were those who had already retired for the night. Still, the absence of other elves was a welcomed thing, as was the cool wind that swept around his face and hair. Thranduil felt the anger and grief within him ebb away. He stopped and sat on the edge of the pond. 

Tis good to have a moment to clear my head, he thought. Tiny fish darted beneath the leaves of water lilies and around his fingers as he trailed his hand through crystal-clear water, their scales glittering with silver and gold whenever they caught the light of nearby lamps. He heard the sound of leather against stone. Another elf was walking toward him; the sound he heard was the sound of their slippers falling over polished cobble. Thranduil sighed as his peace was disturbed. Then he heard a gasp. The elf who came upon him did not expect to find him there.  

“Forgive me, my lord,” they said. “I… I was told this part of the city was empty at night.”  

“The one who told you this did not err on that score.” The prince turned to face the one who approached the pond. “This part of the city is quiet at night. And there is no need to ask for forgiveness, y/n. You have the freedom to walk about Amon Lanc; there is no one to hinder you from doing so. Pray why are you here, at such an hour?” 

“We were not needed in the kitchens.” Y/n dipped into a deep curtsy before rising again. “And the cook told me that I would not be needed on the morrow. I… I thought of seeing something of the city while the others were not about, my lord.” 

“Yes,” Thranduil smiled. “Amon Lanc feels like a city found only in fairytales when one walks about it at night. I will not say more, lest I spoil the beauty of the city for you.” He paused and decided now would be an opportune time to speak to y/n about Celebrimbor and why she did not approach him for shelter. “But I do have a question to ask of you.” 

“Go on, my lord,” said y/n. 

“That day when I procured your freedom, I was told you spent your days wandering. You put down no roots, not even with Lord Curufin’s son, Lord Celebrimbor. Why is that, y/n?” 

“Being the daughter of an attainted kinslayer made it hard for me to put down roots, my lord. And Lord Celebrimbor made it plain that anyone who served his father and his uncle would find no welcome in his home.” 

“Is it because of what happened to Lord Finrod?” 

“Yes, my lord. Lord Celebrimbor never forgave his father, nor his uncle, for that matter, for what became of Lord Finrod in the end.”  

“And so you kept away from his realm,” Thranduil said. He patted the space beside him.  

“Yes, my lord.” Y/n smoothed her skirts and sat a respectful distance away from him. Etiquette demanded it, for she was but a kitchen maid and he was the crown prince. “I did not have the stomach to bear the sight of another door closing on me, so I kept away.” 

The crown prince tried to envision what such a life would have been like: walking from place to place without a proper home to claim for oneself, selling what little possessions one had to keep oneself alive, having no friends, no family, and no one to turn to for aid. He shivered.  

Such a wretched life, he thought, and yet the lady is still here, enduring each hardship as best as she can. 

Enduring such hardships without complaint was to be expected of the Noldor; it was something minstrels waxed poetic about in story and song. Thranduil studied y/n discreetly. Her hair had grown a fraction longer, and already she looked less gaunt than she did before. The robes she wore were blue and gray, simple but well-made. A tarnished pin was all she had for an adornment. Its painted flowers had faded, and they were the likes of which Thranduil had not seen before. 

“The flowers on your pin,” he began, “are those found only in the Blessed Realm, yes?”

“Yes.” Y/n reached up and touched it. Her fingers trembled when they brushed against the filigreed silver. “My father had this made for me when I came of age. My mother painted the flowers you see in the center. This is all I have left of them.”

To have only one token left of one’s flesh and blood, and that too in a poor state, pricked at Thranduil. But it could still be saved, he thought. It could still be restored to its former glory.  

Ah, but would the goldsmiths agree to such an undertaking when the request to do so came from one such as her? Thranduil knew they would turn her away the moment they saw her standing at the door of their forge. A respected courtier who carried the order of the crown prince, on the other hand… 

“It must have great value to you.” Thranduil rose. He could not linger for much longer. The others would expect him to return to the feast without further delay. Nevertheless, he did not intend to leave until he spoke to y/n about what he had in mind. “And it can be returned to what it looked like when you first received it. Give it to Feren when you see him next. I will speak to him, and have him go to our goldsmiths. If there is anyone in Amon Lanc who could restore that pin to what it once was, it is them.” 

“I…” Y/n paused and hesitated. She lowered her gaze, took a deep, steadying breath, and then she dared to look him in the eye. A decision had been made. “Thank you, my lord.” 

Thranduil nodded. “And now you must excuse me. I must return to the feast before my father sends someone to search for me.” 

“Of course, my lord.” Y/n rose also, and curtsied to him again. “Good night, my lord.”  

“Good night, y/n,” Thranduil said. He looked back at her over his shoulder for a moment as he walked away. The sight of her beneath a spill of lamplight, her eyes sparkling as she turned to admire the fish in the pond, tugged at him in a way he could not describe.

tags: @deadlymistletoe @coopsgirl @lemonivall @tigereyesf @thranduilseyebrows @cupids-got-me @asianbutnotjapanese @kurochan3

[redux-iterum]

Charred Legacy: Chapter Six

(AO3 counterpart here.)

Nights progressed onward, and Fireheart delightedly watched as his siblings and nephew climbed out of the nursery and wandered around camp with increasing confidence—especially Cloudkit, who waddled about like he was the leader of all the territories. He attacked Fireheart more than once, chomping on his tail or swatting harmlessly at his haunches.

“Is he our nephew, too?” Tawnykit asked one night, watching with Fireheart as Cloudkit led Aspenkit and Ashkit on a march to the elders’ den.

Fireheart blinked down at her. “I actually hadn’t thought about that. I guess he is! Isn’t that funny?”

Tawnykit squinted a little as Cloudkit clambered into One-eye’s lap, between her front paws. “Yeah. He’s older than us. S’funny.”

Fireheart regarded her sitting beside him, and then looked back at Bramblekit, who was being groomed by Goldenflower, then at Cloudkit again. Warmth spread through his body, starting from his chest, and his heart swelled with affection and pride, threatening to break out of him through his throat.

Family. What a beautiful thing to get to experience.

At this thought, a ruddy tortoiseshell with huge, pleading eyes, wet with fear, popped into his head. Not for the first time, but it still made him barely hide a jolt of guilt, fresh as it always was.

Fireheart hadn’t gone to see his sister in the Houses for a very long time. He’d had no news to share with her about the son she had given to him, since he couldn’t even visit the growing Cloudkit, and now that he was out and about, Fireheart had been trying to stay busy and spend time with his Clanmates, adopted family or just friends. Perhaps just because he was desperate to keep everyone’s spirits up, but still, he should have seen her way sooner.

She must be desperate for any news, he thought, and with that he stood up. Tawnykit watched him in surprise as he touched his nose to the top of her head, then turned to Goldenflower and said, “I’m going to go out and see if I can hunt.”

Goldenflower paused in her grooming and nodded. Bramblekit copied her nod, looking a bit puzzled as to what they were nodding for. Fireheart trotted over to repeat the nose-touch to Bramblekit’s forehead, and then pressed his own forehead to Goldenflower’s. She purred and waved her tail as he trotted away, heading straight for the entrance tunnel.

As soon as he was outside, he buckled down into a run just below sprinting speed, careful to not make too much noise as he rushed through the forest. The half-moon grinned down at him through the naked tree-branches; the leaves on the ground had all but rotted away at this point, leaving soft earth to greet Fireheart’s paws with every swift step. It was chillier tonight, but a nice sort of chill, the kind that made catching one’s breath almost pleasant.

Fireheart reached the border along the Houses and slowed down, taking a moment to breathe (and it was nice indeed) and eye the fencing that stood straight and narrow, a firm line between civilization and the wild. The grass that humans hadn’t clipped and watered were little more than yellow-brown stalks, scratching faintly at Fireheart’s pelt as he made his way up to a familiar part of the fence.

“Smudge!” he called as loud as he dared, half-worried a Clanmate would be out and catch sight of him. “Smudge, are you here?”

Silence for long enough that Fireheart started to turn away, then: the tell-tale click of a doorflap being pushed open and shutting again, scratching and scrabbling, and in a moment a friendly black-and-white head popped up over the wood.

“Fireheart!” Smudge hefted himself onto the top of the fence, tail dancing around. The rotund tom clumsily hit the ground and stumbled a bit before hurrying up to his old friend and greeting him by rubbing their pelts together, purring like a car. “Where in the world have you been?”

“Sorry.” Fireheart leaned a bit into Smudge’s shoulder. “It’s been a crazy time, I can’t even begin to tell you.”

“Well, you better, I’m curious,” Smudge said, stepping back a bit and looking Fireheart over. “You’re a little thinner than last time. Is the cold getting to you?”

Fireheart flicked his tail dismissively. “Oh, prey is thin around this time of year. Listen, I was going to go see Rosy and tell her how her son is doing. Wanna come with?”

Smudge gave him an amused look. “Of course I do. And on the way, you can fill me in.”

Fireheart’s whiskers twitched grimly. “You’re not going to like it.”

The lazy cheer on Smudge’s face wilted a bit, but he simply cocked his head in an inviting gesture and turned with Fireheart to start walking down the road to Rosy’s house.

As they walked, Fireheart (praying that StarClan wouldn’t get angry at him) recounted what he hoped was a short and softer version of the past couple months. Smudge listened with growing shock and poorly-concealed horror, especially when Fireheart’s voice caught in his throat as he ended the former deputy’s story.

“And we’ve all just been recovering from that since then,” he said with an unsteady sigh. “The Clans don’t allow you to talk about cats who get their names taken away, or who did bad things like that. But now my mira had her kits, and one of them looks just like his father. Everyone gives him a startled look when they see him for the first time.” He narrowed his eyes. “Sometimes after that, too.”

“Good heavens.” Smudge shook his head in disbelief. “And here I thought the most danger you could face was from the animals out there, not your own colony. Well, at least you came out of it alive.”

Fireheart just hummed, his ears back.

Smudge looked at him, eyes now shaded with concern. Hesitantly, he asked, “Mind a nibble on your thoughts?”

Fireheart’s answer was delayed and so quiet he half-expected Smudge to not hear him as he finally gave voice to a thought he didn’t want to ever hear out loud. “…That tom was arpam to me, and I killed him. If– if I’d just kept my mouth shut, either time, he’d still be alive. Bramblekit and Tawnykit would have a father to be raised by. Goldenflower’d have her mate, and—”

“No, no, none of that.” Smudge stopped suddenly, and when Fireheart paused and looked his way, he had a very serious, stern frown on his face. “Don’t you get to feeling guilty for consequences that cat had coming to him whether or not you were there. He murdered and crippled your friends, Fireheart. You should be proud of yourself, if anything.” Fireheart flinched, and immediately Smudge’s expression and voice softened. “I know, you don’t want anyone to be hurt, but he deserved it. If he was still alive, your leader would be dead, and who knows who else. He could have turned on you, for all you know.”

“He wouldn’t,” Fireheart wanted to say, but it stuck in his throat. He swallowed the words back down and squeezed his eyes shut, fighting a tremble that tried to sweep through his body.

A very light weight rested itself on his hindquarters; when he opened his eyes again, Smudge’s tail was draped over his side and he was giving Fireheart a sympathetic look.

“Come on,” he said gently. “Chin up. You’re not responsible for anything but justice, even if it was to family. Let’s get you to Rosy, alright? Give you something happier to think about.”

Fireheart swallowed again, this time a much larger lump, and nodded. Smudge patted him with his nearest paw and withdrew it to start walking again, his friend slowly following.

By the time they reached Rosy’s house, Fireheart’s chest was looser and his stomach less queasy. He took the lead in leaping onto her fence and dropping down in her yard. Through the glass door, he could see his sister asleep in a little bed.

“Rosy!” he shouted, feeling half-guilty for waking her up.

Immediately, the yellow-green eyes flew open and her head lifted sharply. As soon as her eyes landed on him, she bolted upright and scrambled out of bed, her back feet kicking it hard enough to send it sliding halfway across the room. She belted through the door-flap and crashed into Fireheart, knocking him over.

“Sorry! Sorry!” She backed up just enough to let him get back onto his feet before pushing forward again and putting her head under his chin, purring almost as loud as Goldenflower. “Fireheart! I haven’t seen you in forever!” Before he could respond, she pulled back and looked around wildly. “Where’s Cloudy? Where’s my baby?”

Fireheart gave a low chuff and replied, “He’s still at home, growing up and being kept safe by my Clanmates. You should see him, he’s—”

“Ooh, tell me everything!” Rosy vibrated with excitement. “Where does he sleep? How’s he doing in training? All of it! Tell me all of it!”

With a calming paw-gesture for quiet, Fireheart’s eyes creased with affection. He’d missed his sister’s eager energy. “One thing at a time. First, he’s completely fine. He’s fat and happy and all of my Clanmates love him.” Except Darkstripe, but it’s hard for me to care about that at this point. “What I wanted to tell you first is that he’s gone from all-white to being white with this ginger patching on his ears and nose, and his tail too. Even some of his toes are starting to get it. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Oh!” Rosy straightened up even further with delight, somehow. “He’s like his father! Onion had grey instead, but he had the same thing.”

“‘Had’?” Fireheart tilted his head, his happiness faltering. “What happened to Onion?”

Rosy’s face fell into a melancholy disappointment - nearing a scowl, to Fireheart’s surprise. “I don’t know where he is now. He just strolled off without even asking about his kits, and I never saw him again.” The scowl turned more glum and solemn. “All of my babies went to different homes. They barely stopped nursing before they were taken away from me. I have no idea how they’re doing or where they are…” She suddenly shook herself violently and forcibly perked up, beaming at Fireheart now. “But I know where Cloudy is!”

“Well,” Fireheart said, relieved to move on to something happier, “he had a slight name-change. The Clan named him Cloudkit. When he’s an apprentice, his name will be Cloudpaw.”

“Oh! That’s right!” Rosy nodded rapidly. “The name-changing, I forgot about that.”

“Why does your Clan even do that?” Smudge asked, sitting a body-length away. “Gets real confusing, if you ask me.”

“It makes sense if you live there.” Fireheart looked at him now. “It helps tell you where a cat is in rank. Plus, it feels really rewarding to have a special name. It’s like everyone gets to see you say, ‘Look, I grew up and I proved I can be one of you. I earned my name through hard work and determination.’” His eyes unfocused as he reflected warmly. “And hearing your name be chanted by the entire Clan… it’s among the best feelings I’ve ever experienced.”

Smudge’s mouth stretched to one side in an amused grimace. “I’ll take your word for it, bud.”

“Well, Cloudkit then!” Rosy nudged Fireheart’s chest. “Tell me about him! Are you raising him?”

“Oh– no—” Fireheart shook his head. “Toms aren’t allowed in our nursery. He’s being taken care of by Brindleface. You’d like her, she’s very sweet—took to him immediately and adopted him without a word. He has two siblings, Ashkit and Aspenkit.” He snorted. “He’s always leading them around on pretend patrols. He can’t wait to get out and see the territory. And he loves our elders. He spends more time with them than he does me! And—”

He cut off his next sentence at the confused and slightly sad look on Rosy’s face. Her voice was much less eager than before. “He… has an adopted family out there?”

Ah. Fireheart nodded, trying to break the truth gingerly. “He’s had Brindleface, his siblings and me. That’s the family he knows.”

Rosy’s eyes fell and her energy dissipated like mist. “…So he doesn’t know me.”

“I…” Fireheart didn’t have it in him to lie so boldly. “No. I’m sorry. He’s too young to remember being brought out here by you.”

Rosy breathed out unsteadily. Her nose pointed down to her paws.

“I don’t mean to keep you a secret,” Fireheart said quickly. “When it comes time to make him an apprentice, I’m going to mentor him, and then I’ll tell him about you. When we can talk privately, and he’s old enough to handle being born an outsider.”

“Why can’t he handle it now?” Rosy asked, voice barely above a mutter.

Fireheart stayed patient and careful. “Remember that the Clans don’t really like outsiders. They barely accepted me when I first got there, and there was a debate on keeping Cloudkit after I brought him in.” He leaned in a little and spoke kindly, trying to get her to lift her head. “Telling him right now would be a lot on such a young mind. All he’s ever known is the Clan. He doesn’t know that it’s okay to be born elsewhere, so long as you’re loyal to your Clanmates. I promise, he will know about you, sooner or later.”

Hesitantly, Rosy looked up at him, cautious optimism on her youthful face. “And will I get to see him again? Will you take him to meet me? Or… can I visit?”

Bringing her to visit immediately peppered Fireheart’s mind with angry ThunderClan faces and potential fights. “He’ll come see you someday. I’ll bring him here myself. I can’t say when, but I know he will meet you for real.”

This got Rosy to sit up taller again, though slowly and with less enthusiasm than before. Fireheart gave her an encouraging blink, adding, “And until then, you can rest assured that he’s okay. He’s better than okay, really. Round and happy and energetic and bold. He’s a spark of sunset, even among the other kittens.” He purred. “Actually, with my mira and siblings, he’s got an even bigger support system—”

“Your ‘mira’?” Rosy echoed, tilting her head. “You’ve seen our mother again?”

“Oh, ha, no.” Fireheart’s ears went back sheepishly. “The matriarch took me in as her son.”

He didn’t expect Rosy’s face to fall again, even deeper this time. Her voice dropped the lowest it had been this whole conversation. “You have family out there, too…”

“Don’t be disappointed by that, Rosy,” Smudge said quickly. “It’s good that his Clanmates like him so much that they’d adopt him. And he still came to see you, didn’t he?”

“Right.” Fireheart nodded. “You’re my family, too. You’re by blood and they’re by bond. That’s all.”

Rosy took in a breath and copied her brother’s nod, but her face did not look any cheerier. “You have so much of a life, Fireheart. I hear you talking about all these things and I’m happy for you, but… it’s hard to not be a part of it as often as I’d like.” Fireheart’s face must have changed, because she hastened to add, “I know you aren’t allowed to come see me. That’s not your fault. I just miss you, you know? I miss Rusty, and sometimes it feels like I don’t even know Fireheart.” She exhaled with force and scrubbed her face. “Look at me, being selfish and dumb. I’m sorry. I’m grateful you came, and that you took Cloudy– Cloudkit. I’ll be happy whenever you bring him, whether he’s an apprentice or warrior.”

Fireheart leaned forward to rest his chin on her head. He had no idea what to say, beyond a soft, “You’ll see us both again, as soon as I can manage.”

Rosy said nothing, but he felt her faint purr through his throat.

“Well,” Smudge said with a clearing of his throat, “I do hate to interrupt this, but I’d say you ought to get back to your forest before any of your friends and family miss you.”

Fireheart turned his head with a puzzled frown. The tense look in Smudge’s eyes told him something—he wasn’t sure what, but he drew away from Rosy and said, “I should, yeah. I’m sorry. I’ll visit again when I can.”

Rosy, luckily, did not look too sad about this. Weary and resigned, but not sad. She nodded and yawned. “Please be careful out there. And… and make sure Cloudkit is ready to be the best apprentice in the world.”

“He will be.” Fireheart rubbed his cheek on his sister’s. “I can’t wait to show him off to you.”

This cheered her up enough to make her tail curl over her back. Fireheart waved his own tail before turning around and following Smudge to the fence. The two jumped over together, Fireheart landing smoother and first on the other side. They walked together in silence, until Fireheart was sure Rosy couldn’t hear them so he could lean in and whisper, “What’s up?”

Smudge’s mouth was thin and stretched. “I haven’t told Rosy yet, she’s been inside so much. There’s a dog loose somewhere around here. I wanted to get you out of here before it can find us.”

Fireheart stiffened and almost stopped walking. “Here? Really?”

“The rumor goes that it’s already killed a house cat.” Smudge looked to Fireheart, his eyes widening in realization. “You’ve heard about a dog too, haven’t you?”

Fireheart’s bones were ice-cold. “One of the other Clans’ leaders told us all that they’d lost a cat to a pack of them. But they’re easily more than a day’s travel from here.”

“A pack?” Smudge’s short fur flared in alarm. “And they’re even attacking your colonies?”

“And it sounds like they might be moving around.” Fireheart shivered, like that would make the frosty fear in his body go away. “Smudge, do me a favor and make sure you and Rosy and your friend at my house stay inside your yards. I have to tell my leader and deputy about this.”

“You might get in trouble for coming out here…”

“Then I’ll get in trouble.” Fireheart’s firm tone eased some of his chill. “I can’t keep this a secret. Bluestar knows about Rosy, she’ll take this the best. I don’t think our deputy will mind how I got the news either, when it’s this important.”

“You’re bold.” Smudge gave him a respectful look. “Then get to your camp as soon as possible. I’ll be fine walking home alone.”

“You sure?”

“Very sure. I’m more worried for you.” Smudge nudged him with his head. “Get to running, Fireheart. Be careful, alright? I don’t think even you could outrun a dog.”

“Good thing we have trees to climb,” Fireheart said, almost to himself. He nudged Smudge back and, after a confirming look to a nod, started off at a run.

Perhaps he was going faster than usual as he entered the forest, dodging dead ferns and fallen logs, but it certainly felt as sluggish as a nightmare.

[darwinquark]

Can we get a lil sneak of what’s coming in the party?

haven't had a chance to start writing it yet (will probably get the ball rolling this weekend) buuuut if you want a spoiler 👀

[ranmacapss]

[Ranma ½] ✥ Chapter 6, Body and Soul

[darkness-and-books]

The Things We Do For The Fleet

Chapter 6: Clumsy Greetings

💙eventual Leonard McCoy x fem!reader💙

⚠️: minor injury, slight language

word count: 2,907

<-Previous-Next->

There was an incessant pinging sound coming from the living room, Why in god’s name would anyone be here before my alarm even goes off?!?. Leonard grumbled and rolled over when a yelp came from beneath him. “Oh! I’m sorry, darlin!” He nearly fell out of bed, and took the blanket with him trying to roll back to his own side of the bed. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll get the door. You should get more sleep if you can,” Y/N encouraged as she walked out of the room to see what was happening out there. That’s nice of her, I coulda gotten it though, Leonard thought as he went back to sleep, seeing as he hadn’t been particularly awake to begin with.

Y/N opened the door to be met with Captain Kirk, she stepped outside the door and let it close behind her. “Good morning Captain, what can I do for you?” She greeted, voice still laden with sleep. “Have you seen Bones?!? I called him, but no one picked up, went to his quarters and no one was there! I’ve been checking rooms between his quarters and here looking for him!” Kirk rushed to explain in a single breath. “Why do you ask?” Y/N followed, fully aware of where the Doctor was, but not willing to give him away to the captain unless it was actually necessary. “For one thing his shift started fifteen minutes ago, and for another we have an injury on the bridge,” He explained to her in a voice that told her she probably should have answered the question instead of asking her own. “Aren’t there other doctors?” Y/N asked, fiddling with the cuff of her nightgown. “Yes, but-” Kirk was cut off by the sound of Y/N’s alarm sounding from inside her quarters. “Y/N what do you want me to do about this damned thing?!?!” Leonard asked, muffled by the door. The captain smirked, “I see, you’re keeping him to yourself. Just tell him I told him it wouldn’t be so bad and that he’s late,” Kirk pressed, continuing to walk away with a devious grin plastered to his face. She wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘it wouldn’t be so bad’, but she went back into her now shared quarters anyway. She took a stop in the kitchen and put the kettle on again before she walked back to the bedroom. As she stepped into the doorway of the bedroom she stopped to see Leonard up now and toying with the alarm to get it to stop. Y/N took him in, now seeing him for the first time this morning in all his early morning radiance: hair mussed and nightgown rumpled. “I guess you’re late,” Y/N announced, now making her presence behind him known. “Shit, am I really?!” Leonard asked looking back to the clock in his hands, he looked back up to her, “How did you know that?” He asked. “That was the Captain, he came to say you were late and that he couldn’t find you,” she relayed, “Gah, dammit Jim!” Leonard exclaimed as he ran to the closet for a uniform. Y/N giggled in his wake and grabbed a uniform for herself as well, opting to change in the bedroom since Leonard was already in the bathroom. “Bye, have a good day doing whatever you do!” Leonard shouted, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. Y/N was still tying her shoes when she heard this and giggled at the thought of him running down the hall. Maybe having a roommate will be fun. She walked out of their quarters with a pair of gardening gloves half tucked into the waistband of her pants. Y/N turned down the hall just in time to see the turbo lift doors close with Leonard behind them. Y/N decided on skipping breakfast that morning, something she knew she would regret later, but wasn’t worried about at the moment. She took the stairs down to the botany lab, a time consuming route she could afford to take because she was already early. She had a lot of reports to fill out on that Cotton Candy Flower, including giving it an actual scientific name instead of continuing to call it cotton candy. When Y/N arrived in the botany department she found it empty, something that wasn’t surprising as most botany personnel tended to be at breakfast right now. She sat down at the bench with her cotton candy flowers, tapped on her padd to turn it on and hit the audio recording button. She always preferred recording her notes as she went because the gardening gloves didn’t allow her to use the touch screen.

Leonard caught a glimpse of Y/N down the hall just as the turbo lift closed, he would have caught the door for her, but it was mostly closed by the time he caught her eyes and he wasn’t about to catch his fingers in the door just to be polite. Of course you overslept, you didn’t set alarm, He felt like an idiot, Leonard would have to do his best to avoid the bridge today. He walked into his office and fell gracelessly into his chair. Just what I always wanted, more paperwork, Leonard grumbled as he sat up to take a look through all of his newly acquired papers. If I just strap everyone on this death trap to their bed, then no one can get hurt, job done, Leonard thought to himself as he rifled through to find some of the most terrifyingly ridiculous injuries he’d seen. Nurse Chapel walked into his office, “The captain’s here to see you,” She informed and walked away without leaving room for him to argue with her. Today must be my lucky day, Leonard straightened in anticipation of Jim’s entrance. “So,” Jim started as he walked in and took a seat without being asked, “Enjoy yourself in Y/N’s bed?” He asked with a devious smirk. “My doings are none of your concern, and I’ll have you know she slept so far to the other side of the bed, I’m surprised she didn’t fall off,” McCoy retorted sternly. “Alright, alright, I get it. Grumpy cause you didn’t get any,” he joked with his hands up in mock surrender, earning himself an even stronger brand of glare from Leonard. “Did you come here for something other than to harass me?” McCoy asked venomously, “Just saying hi,” Jim defended, standing up, “Well you’ve done that now,” Leonard was absolutely not in the mood, not that he usually was, but today he already seemed worse than usual. Jim walked out of McCoy’s office, requesting that the rest of the medical staff leave Leonard alone unless it was an emergency. Clearly something was eating at him and Jim would hate for unsuspecting patients and staff to be caught in the crossfire. Leonard sank further into his chair with a hand over his face before standing up and leaving his office to check in on his patients. As he walked through the medbay the whole medical staff did their best to stay as far out of his way as possible.

Y/N stood from her station to get some petri dishes for soil samples, she put on her headphones before leaving the room, a habit she had developed in order to avoid awkward conversations. With her headphones on and her music playing as loud as was reasonably possible, Y/N headed to the supply closet. Opening the door and walking in she tripped over a plant pot, she let out a squeal as she fell forward. Y/N gritted her teeth in pain as she felt that her ankle had twisted in a way that it definitely shouldn’t be able to under normal circumstances. “Sulu!” Y/N called, knowing that in his spare time he liked to hang out in the botany labs. Nothing, he wasn’t there, Guess I have to do this myself. She gripped the door frame for support as she pulled herself up, Y/N stood leaning against the door for a moment more. Breathe in, breathe out, now walk She swung on the doorframe trying to keep weight off of her ankle and began to limp towards the turbo lift as she dragged against the wall. Of all the times to get hurt, I picked a time when somehow no one’s around Y/N heaved as she got to the turbo lift, she would have to step away from the wall to get in, and she really didn’t want to. Here goes nothing she braced herself as she stepped away from the wall, pain shot through her leg, she was starting to wish she had just waited for someone to find her in the supply closet. When the door opened she slowly moved in and fell against the wall, taking a breath of relief as her ankle was relieved of pressure, “Medbay,” Y/N groaned and tried not to think about her ankle or about the looks she would get when she got off the lift. The door opened again to reveal medical personnel in a sea of blue shirts, one looked over to see Y/N pulling herself out of the lift and rushed to help. “Here,” the girl said, taking Y/N’s arm to put it over herself. “How’d it happen?” the nurse asked, “Tripped over a planting pot,” Y/N answered, trying her best not to sound too pathetic. “Botany personnel or just stealing their supplies?” The nurse joked in an attempt to distract Y/N as she sat down on a chair in the waiting area, “Don’t worry, someone will get to you in a moment,” The nurse reassured before leaving to do whatever it was she needed to do. Leonard was walking back into his office, “Oh, hi Len,” Y/N waved with a smile. “Oh, hi Y/N,” Leonard greeted without looking up from his padd as he continued. He stopped abruptly, looking back at Y/N, “What are you doing here?” McCoy asked with a raised eyebrow. “Just thought I’d sprain my ankle for funsies!” Y/N joked downtroddenly with a quick look at her ankle. “Oh for the love of god,” Leonard murmured, “Come on,” He said as he picked you up. Leonard took Y/N into his office and sat her down, he left her in the chair and searched his desk drawers for a tricorder. “Well,” He said, reading the tricorder, “At least you didn’t break it, the best we can really do is wrap it and keep you off of it,” He told Y/N with a smile that disappeared in an instant. "You can stay there if you want," Leonard offered as he sat back down in his own chair behind his desk.

Looking up to see the clock, Leonard sees the time, “you hungry?” He asks, seeing as it’s almost noon. “Starving, honestly,” Y/N replies, remembering that she had yet to eat today. “Alright, what do you want?” Leonard asked, ready to bring back whatever she requested. "Whatever you bring back, I'm not picky and it's all replicator food," Y/N answered, trying to find a way to settle her ankle. "Alright then, but don't complain if I bring back something you don't like," Leonard warned. He tended only to do what he absolutely had to, but for some reason he found himself jumping at the chance to do something for Y/N. it was just that they had to live together indefinitely, he told himself this repeatedly as he left his office and went down to the officers mess for food. Leonard couldn’t actually decide what to pick as far as food, he tended to air on the bland side, that way he couldn’t be disappointed by the fact that the replicators very rarely got flavours right, they were always just a bit off. Y/N probably favoured sweeter flavours, Leonard thought as he found himself sifting through the dessert cartridges. Leonard didn’t think he’d ever felt so much anxiety over what food to pick. Is Y/N really a sweets person or is that just a silly assumption?, as he asked himself this footsteps came up behind him.

“Oh, hey, Bones! Fancy seeing you here,” Jim greeted as he gave Leonard a clap on the back. “Could you not?” He grumbled as he continued to pretend considering what he was gonna pick for lunch. “You don’t usually eat lunch. What’s up?” Jim lightly questioned, “Well maybe if you didn’t get so many people injured on away missions, I wouldn’t be too busy to eat!” Leonard shot back without regard for anyone nearby who might be listening, or really just within earshot. He opened his mouth to continue having it out with Jim when his ears closed in on the sound of uneven and inconsistent footsteps, accompanied by a more stable set of footsteps. Leonard looked away from Kirk and focused on where the steps were coming from. Dammit, why won’t anyone listen to me, he began to fume as he saw Y/N walking up behind Jim, supported by Christine. “What are you doing?” Leonard asked, a strange combination of anger and concern boiling inside of him. Y/N Looked up to him with a pained smile as she let go of Christine to wave at him. Jim looked behind him to see who McCoy was talking to and turned back to Leonard with a raised eyebrow.

“You said you would bring back lunch, but I didn’t think I would have to wait three to five business days for you to come back with it!” Y/N smiled, some of her sass, which Leonard hadn’t seen before, peaking through. Jim looked at Leonard with a pressing glance and a smirk, he shot back a ‘not now’ glare. “I couldn’t decide what I thought you might want,” He admitted, briefly looking down at the floor and stealing Y/N’s signature move. Y/N smiled deeper and attempted to move closer, only to lose balance of her weight and fell into Leonard’s arms. He readjusted her so that she was more comfortably resting her weight off of her bad ankle and leaning into his side. “I told you I’m not picky,” Y/N reasoned in a near whine, pressing even further into Leonard’s side to punctuate her point. Leonard briefly considered the idea of wrapping his arm around Y/N’s waist, in the name of keeping her stable of course. In the end he decided he had better not do it in case she didn’t like it or it made her uncomfortable. “Well you should have just told me what you wanted to eat instead, then I’d already have brought you food and you wouldn’t be here walking on your ankle,” Leonard added the last part rather sternly. “Well just grab me a Y/F/F smoothie,” Y/N said, turning around and nearly falling over trying to reach for the cartridge. Leonard quickly caught her with both arms caged around her waist, “Maybe just let me get that for you,” Leonard kindly offered as he put back the cartridges Y/N had knocked out of place and grabbed one for a Y/F/F smoothie. All the while keeping a hand firmly pressed into her side. “Alright, walk with me here,” Leonard said as he began to guide Y/N towards a table where she could sit down. He carefully lowered her onto the bench, making sure not to bother her ankle. “I’ll be right back with your smoothie, don’t move this time,” Leonard ordered as he walked back to the replicators, cartridge in hand. “Getting a little handsy over there,” Jim remarked while wiggling his eyebrows, “I can’t help that she’s too clumsy for her own good. Now get out of the way,” He said, shouldering Jim. McCoy stood in front of the replicator and waited a moment for the little door to slide up again to reveal Y/N’s smoothie. So I wasn’t entirely wrong with the sweets thing, he told himself rather proudly as he popped in the cartridge for his sandwich and waited again. Leonard walked back to the table where Y/N sat across from Christine, Sandwich and smoothie in hand. “Do you wanna try eating here or head back to medbay?” He asked, glancing at Y/N’s ankle as he placed the food on the table. She looked down at her ankle and then to the bench, “Back to the medbay?” She asked, seeming to have decided that it wasn’t worth the work to get her legs over the bench. “Whatever you like,” He said as he sat down next to you and put an arm around your waist. “Ready?” Leonard asked, Y/N gave a nod and prepared herself. “And up,” He guided her up in one swift motion. They stood still together for a moment, being sure of their balance, “Ready to try walking?” Leonard asked, looking down at her. “I think so, yeah,” Y/N replied. “Nurse Chapel,” He turned his head to look back at Christine, “Would you grab our food and follow us back to the medbay?” Leonard asked her as politely as he could manage. “Of course,” Christine answered, picking up the food and following behind them. The walk was slow, but not too uncomfortable for Leonard, although he was becoming tired of leaning so far to the side so that Y/N wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.

I hit a brick wall like halfway through writing this chapter and dead stopped writing it for three days. 💀☠️

[alwoobles]

It’s so hard being a borumitsu truther in these borusara and borusumi times, let alone being a borumitsusara fan 🙁 y’all the girls are fighting and I hate it 💔 they’re supposed to be a team 👏

[amethystskeleton]

(Excerpt from Chapter 6):

Rainwater sloshed around in his shoes with each step that he took and Liam shoved his wet hair out of his face for what felt like the hundredth time. Ahead there were only more trees and a rain shadowed road, stretching out into nothingness. Suddenly something in the distance shifted. A large square shadow off to the side of the road. Liam squinted at it and picked up the pace moving closer and closer. Through the rain he could see the faint reddish gleam of brake lights. 

[thenotebookwizard]

She-Ra | Defiance CH6: Into Darkness

Perfect art by the amazing @rhnalli! Many thanks to you for your work, encouragement, and stunning artwork. I could not have done this as well without your help!

The last day of the @spopbang, and the last chapter of Defiance until next week. I may have a present for you this weekend, though. We'll see!

Adora walks into darkness - and life without Catra - with Shadow Weaver behind her. Not everyone she meets in the dark temple is an ally, but not everyone is an enemy.

Time has moved forward, and we are now moving into regular, weekly updates. As I've said, probably Fridays.

However. There are some scenes, some moments in this story that never found a place. My outtakes may end up as side stories here and there. If that happens, I'll make Defiance a series, and post about it here.

This chapter is an amazing place to end. Not only is it a turning point in the fic. Not only do I get to bring in Scorpia (one of my favs) to my fic, but I get to introduce the first transplanted and borrowed character.

It marks the first time I've added a character to the tags. It will not be last, because if you've read the tags, you'll know there are a lot of important people from Etheria missing.

Don't worry. No one will be forgotten - but it may be awhile before we meet them.

As always, my deepest thanks to everyone reading this story. The comments, the kudos, the bookmarks - the subscriptions - the give me life and they make me want to write faster.

May your friends and your magic always stand between you and harm in all the empty places you must walk.

A paraphrase of the late, great Harlan Ellison.

(Anyone who can tell me, in an ask, where that quote is paraphrased from gets one spoiler.)

[night-market-if]

LOL There’s no way you make Bella the messy one in Book 3. Girlie is already hanging on by a thread in this book 😭

LOL!

I was waiting for someone to say something about that. I don't know if everyone knows just how bad it is but Chapter Six should make that abundantly clear. Especially if you are romancing her.