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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

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Yoonkook x Reader

Touch-Starved [Main Story]

Yoongi has a crush on you, but is convinced you're not interested in him. You have a crush on Yoongi, but are sure that he'd never like you if he knew your secret. Jungkook has a crush on you but won't admit it to anyone, and you have a crush on Jungkook, but you think you know that he'd never see you as a possible partner, because he knows your secret. It's all just such a mess. How could you ever sort this out?

Tags/Warnings: Wolf!Bangtan, Wolf!Jungkook, Wolf!Yoongi, Dog!Reader, Puppy!Reader, DDLG aspects and themes, no judgement allowed here, non-sexual regression!!!, none of those themes are sexualized in this work, hurt and comfort, major fluff but also lots of angst and insecurity, friends to lovers

Length: idk long didn't count

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

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Yoongi is not good at things like affection, or relationships at that.

He easily turns red as bright as a spanked ass whenever he has to try and compliment someone he's even just remotely romantically interested in, or he will otherwise simply not find the courage to do it at all. Backhanded compliments are a regular thing with him, his character not allowing him to show someone he cares without implying that he doesn't- a trait that he hates about himself.

He'd learned it from his father, making him even more upset since he never really got along well with that man in the first place. Yet the more he thinks about it, the more it seems like his family history will just repeat itself, and he will find himself in a marriage simply created because of convenience, not love.

He cringes at that, throwing the rest of his sandwich away. His appetite has been long gone anyways.

The reason of his foul mood is in the dorm currently, sitting comfortably on the couch playfully wrestling with Jungkook over a pack of chips he can't identify from his spot.

He hates Jungkook sometimes.

He's always pictured as a shy boy, yet he's actually the exact opposite - easily likable, charming, and most of all- he's your age. The maknae and you are merely half a year apart in age, and he can see why you get along with him. He is a nice person, with his bright smile and large eyes, talented, strong, and likes video games as much as you do.

Yoongi himself does play some games to a small extend, however, he rather buries himself in his work, losing sense of time whenever music is involved.

Overly confident is not how he would describe you- you are simply uncaring of trends of the masses. You don't crave to stand out like Taehyung does, you rather enjoy simply living for yourself and what makes you happy no matter what people would think of your 'goals'. You love stuffed animals and soft colorful things no matter how childish it might make you look. You rarely take selfies of yourself, and never really pose much in images- you just smile, simple as that.

God that smile. If there is an emotion for hate and love at the same time, he is constantly feeling it when it comes to you.

Yoongi wants to be close to you as well, maybe even the closest if he is honest, yet he doesn't know how the hell he is supposed to do that. You both rarely text- he is too unsure if he can, since he is only in a groupchat with you, and only got your ID from Hoseok, who gave it to him in case Yoongi needs to text you something important. You rarely visit him in his studio, but then again, he never told you you'd be welcome anytime. Every small thing he does for you he either brushes it off as nothing speci¹al, or sometimes even tells you that he didn't do it, but one of his members, claiming that he has no Idea what you are talking about. You also show absolutely no interest in him whatsoever.

Which makes his embarrassing crush on you all the more awkward.

He's Min Yoongi for god's sake! He could have anyone if he really tried, if just for his fame and wealth and status as a full blooded Wolf-Hybrid coming from a 'clean' bloodline- yet he is stuck with you, the tiny dog hybrid who sees him as a friend only- if even that at all.

"Yoongi! Finally leaving your wife in there to join us in being social for once?" Seokjin remarks with his signature laugh following, making you chuckle as well.

"Don't be mean Jin." You softly scold the oldest. "Yoongs works hard in there." You look over your shoulder, one of your floppy ears unfolding while you smile that goddamn smile at him- not huge, not a smirk, simply a nice friendly gesture towards him, curled tail wagging a little.

The nickname doesn't make it better.

He hates nicknames, however, he could definitely keep living with your cute versions of his first name any day of the week. He wants to answer you, give you a verbal response, yet all he can bring himself to do is a shrug of his shoulders.

What the fuck.

But you only playfully hold your heart, falling into Jungkooks lap with a dramatic sigh. "Ah, always so cold-!" Which makes the guys laugh, and himself involuntarily smile to himself. He sits down, managing to actually place his ass next to you on the couch without instantly retreating for once. You bravely put your legs over his lap, and his mind is beginning to form the same amount of error messages like his PC system the last time he spilled his iced americano over his MIDI-board.

Yet he only grunts on the outside, and takes his phone out to search for something.

You chuckle, mumbling a sorry under your breath and move to slide your legs off of him again, but his unused hand stops them, shifting them back. His fingers are touching the small patch of bare skin on your calf between your leggings and fluffy sock that had slid down a little- and he has to use all of his self-control not to burst into flames.

He's never really had any very close contact with you, and always imagined what your skin may feel like- as creepy as that sounds. The smile he can see you forming from the side of his view makes him relax, as well- the first sign spotted that he might have some sort of effect on you. Taehyung makes a noise, but is silenced by namjoon who pulls him into a conversation to avoid embarrassing the producer, well aware of his own personal dilemma with you. He is the only one who really knows of his feelings towards you- having told yoongi that you actually feel the same way, yet a bit different. You are, according to namjoon, scared to overstep boundaries with Yoongi, worried that he may snap at you like he did a few months back.

There's that certain feeling whenever you do something stupid and then want to apologize, but you miss the chance and now weeks after it's just awkward, so you don't mention it, while also having to deal with the consequences daily.

Yeah. He still thinks of that moment he'd yelled at you sometimes at the most random of times, cringing internally at it. He'd been stressed with the new Album he wanted to put out, having been stuck on one song, and you had just turned up at the wrong time. You didn't cry or anything like that, you simply apologized for opening his studio without knocking, and left with your tail tucked between your legs. Since then however you'd become a bit more distant with him, more careful, and less touchy than you were with the rest of the pack.

He knows you're a sucker for skinship and cuddling, especially as a dog hybrid who's grown up in a carecenter between many other hybrids, yet you also respect if someone wants space. He loves how much attention you pay to your surroundings, eyes always wide open- you remember things for a long time, and you are able to keep track of so many things at once- yet he's also seen your apartment, a glimpse of your more raw personal side that you tend to keep close to yourself. You're a chaotic person, and he doesn't know how you find anything on that desk of yours.

You struggle to keep track of chores and your own health sometimes, yet you try hard, he knows that. And that makes him feel such an extreme need to make sure you're always happy and taken care of, that he's the one to take care of you.

"Oh, YOONGI!" You suddenly gasp at him, and he raises his eyebrows, looking at you as you move around a bit, your hands searching in your sweater pocket for something. "I actually cleaned up my apartment yesterday, and I found this. I think I borrowed it sometime ago, but lost it- sorry for that again by the way, won't happen again I promise!" You say, showing him a black and silver USB stick, your curly tail wagging in excitement.

You're right, that is his. He actually had forgotten about it.

"Took you long enough." He simply says and takes it from you to put it in his own pocket, seconds later cringing at his sentence. He could've definitely phrased that better, or maybe even simply thank you for giving it back even after all this time. Yet the timeframe of saying thank you without making it seem weird or out of place is already overstepped now, so he has to suffer.

Jungkook chimes in instead.

"I helped her get some order back into that place. Poor puppy had been so stressed with work that she couldnt keep up anymore." He says, laughing along with you, and Yoongi lets a chuckle of his own slip. But instead of telling you what a good job you did, or any praise he really wants to tell you, he only pats your leg gently two times, running his thumb over your calf for a second, internally imprinting into his mind how soft your skin is.

You however beam at this, visibly feeding off of his small gesture like a touch starved pet- and he can't help but find it cute.

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A knock on his door makes him look at it, giving a verbal response in a low "Hm?", as he hears your voice from behind it.

You're not really saying anything, just a sound of confusion and discomfort escaping you from behind the door, and he can slowly hear your slippers softly moving away, when he gets up from his chair to open his door to see you stop to look at him. You're standing in front of him with wide eyes and lowered ears, one of them being pulled on by your hand as he can hear the rest of the pack laughing in the main living room of the dorm. He chuckles at that, waving you into his studio, making him and yourself smile. You thank him somewhat quietly, and go to sit down on his small couch he has inside his studio, laying down so your feet still touched the ground as to not overstep any unspoken rules he might have.

Yoongi however walks up to you, and puts your feet up for you, grabbing a spare blanket from besides the couch, something he always kept here since he sleeps in his studio quite often. You thank him quietly for that, the soft buzzing of his studio PC and the nice air conditioning already helping your fuzzy head a lot.

Jumping over your shadow and coming here was a good idea after all, it seems like.

Yoongi sympathizes with you when it comes to headaches- and it's clear from your behavior that you probably have one, which could also explain why you don't really talk, since it probably hurts. Due to the fact that he seems to solely survive off of caffeine and a cup of instant ramen smashed in between his busy schedule, he gets them more often than he would like to admit. Yet he also remembers how you'd told him once how easily your headaches evolved into migraines if you weren't careful, so he is mindful to help you in avoiding that this time. He digs around in his mind for any small excuse to talk to you, yet ultimately decides against it, thinking it would probably be better for you to have as much silence as possible.

He wonders what your secret is.

Namjoon had mentioned something you kept secret 'for a reason', but he wouldn't tell the producer what it could be, not even a hint. You hopefully know that nothing could ever really make Yoongi see you any different than he does right now.

Except maybe murder- but he doubts that that's what you're hiding.

He also knows that Jungkook is aware of it too. Maybe you both are a couple? He does sleep over sometimes after all, seems to be awfully good with calming you down whenever you're anxious or panicking. It's like the young wolf is aware or something Yoongi isn't, able to manage you when you're becoming restless about things.

Another knock is heard. Yoongi attempts to call out- but gets up to walk to the door instead so he won't shout and worsen your headache. It's Jungkook- because of course it is.

"Hey- is- oh, there she is. I was wondering where she went " jungkook says, entering after the rapper walks aside, silently giving him permission to come in. "Hey- everything okay?" Jungkook wonders softly to you, and you quietly shake your head, whining slightly to yourself before you pull down your ears once more over your eyes, clearly signaling your headache to him as well. "I told you to drink more, puppy. Come on, let's get you home." He gently says, helping you sit up.

"She can just nap here, I don't mind." Yoongi offers- but there's something in Jungkook's eyes that seems oddly suspicious as he looks for an answer inside his head it seems like.

"Ah, I'll rather take her home, but thanks hyung." He tells him, averting his gaze as he instead occupies himself with you who's silently reaching out for him, clinging onto him as he picks you up, showing clearly how used to it both of you are. Jungkook holds you almost effortlessly, while you're instinctively laying your head on his shoulder, arms around his neck.

Yeah, you're probably a couple, and you just don't want to say it out loud.

"You know, you could just tell everyone." Yoongi grumbles more or less as he opens the door for the two of you, Jungkooks wide eyes looking at him. "No one's gonna get mad or something if you told them." He shrugs, and Jungkook looks around for a second, on edge. "You're together, right?" He asks, and Jungkook shakes his head- though with a hint of shyness in his face.

"Ah no- hyung.." He sighs. "I'll- she'll explain when she's ready okay?" He says, as you whine into his neck. "I have to bring her home now- thanks for looking after her!" He says already walking away-

leaving Yoongi confused.

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Jungkook honestly wishes you and him were a couple.

But life doesn't work like this, and sadly, you're not into him like that. You see him as a comfort person, a packmate and a friend- but nothing more than that. He remembers when he first 'caught' you in the midst of regressing in your home-

the whole apartment a mess, cluttered and absolutely disorganized.

You're one of only three percent of dog hybrids that fall into a different headspace when stressed or overwhelmed. It's not something you can control, and neither is it a trauma response- it's just nature playing a cruel joke on you, making your mind shut down to a certain degree to protect you. It's like your brain is overprotective- trying to shield you from all potential mental harm.

But all of that comes with a lot of issues and troubles, such as difficulty holding a job, or simple things such as keeping your apartment clean.

Jungkook remembers how terrified you were of him finding you in your messy apartment- having had to calm you down for a good hour or so before he could even attempt at helping you clean up and take care of your needs. He's not sure why you're so adamant on hiding it from the rest of the pack- but he's got an idea.

Dog hybrids with your condition are alienated, isolated, judged terribly. And you're probably terrified of being cast out of the pack for it, leaving you alone and without anybody.

Your personal nightmare.

So he just instead has decided to take care of you, and wait until you feel ready to tell someone else. You deserve happiness and the feeling of safety and comfort, but he can also understand that you're worried of how it'll be taken by the rest of the guys.

And yeah, he also gets to be a little selfish himself when he's got time with you like this. He gets to live out a little dream here and there, where you're actually his to love. Because he does love you, to the moon and back- and he knows his heart will surely break a little one day when you find someone to give your own heart to, instead of him.

So he takes these moments for himself, and enjoys those daydreams for now, until he has to wake up.

"There we go, that's already better isn't it?" Jungkook hums after he'd taken out your hairtie, fingers massaging the spot where it had been pressing against your scalp for the past few hours. You hum in agreement, nodding against his shoulder while you move a bit to get comfortable on his thighs.

You don't even know that you almost exposed your secret to Yoongi of all people- the one wolf of the pack you've got a crush on.

Everyone kind of knows it, everyone also knows about his crush on you as well- though you seem rather talented in finding excuse after excuse as to why that can't be true. Jungkook knows your main fear is what you're right now- and that Yoongi could find you appalling, or childish, or anything else negative that could come to your mind.

And Jungkook can't say he doesn't understand your fear- because he does.

"You're gonna get all stiff if you nap like that." Jungkook chuckles, patting your back a little, making your curled tail wag happily. "Don't be a brat now. Come on, we'll take a nap on the couch, yeah?" He hums. You whine. "No? Not a nap?" He wonders, but you nod now. "Okay, yes to a nap, no to the couch?" He navigates, laughing when you nod now, tail wagging. "Puppy if we nap in bed you'll sleep for hours though." He sighs.

But you simply wiggle out of his lap, before you run to the bedroom-

The wolf hot on your heels, when your doorbell rings.

When Jungkook opens the door, it's Yoongi- the producer holding up a jacket. "She left it at the dorm." He informs Jungkook, who reaches out to take it- though Yoongi holds it back. "I'd like to give it to her myself-"

"You can't." The younger wolf denies, panicking a little when he hears something jingle, and feels the toy hit his back softly, fabric ball tumbling to the ground, bell inside the cotton filling the cause of the noise. Jungkook closes the door a bit more now to keep you out of sight. "Just- uh, she'll grab it tomorrow-"

"Her phone and purse are in the pockets." Yoongi says. "I'm sure she'd like it back right now." He challenges, and Jungkook can feel himself squirm uncomfortably under the strong gaze of his packmate, having to avert his gaze. "What's really going on?" Yoongi asks, as the toy hits Jungkook's back again.

"Look, this is really bad timing right now-" Jungkook whines as he kicks the toy back with his food go occupy you at least for just a second to give himself more time to think of an excuse. "-She's.. not feeling well right now." He tries to justify.

"Jungkook you're not being very convincing right now." Yoongi sighs. "What the fuck is going on? Does she hate me?"

"NO!" Jungkook barks, before he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Ah.. God, fuck, alright." He sighs, defeated, letting the door slowly open more, while he turns around to throw the soft fabric ball towards where you sit on the floor, toy flying over your head, making you flop onto your back as you try to catch it.

You don't even realize it's Yoongi who's now in the doorway whole Jungkook sits in front of you to start a game of tug-of-war with the soft llushy toy with you, successfully pulling your attention away from the producer who just silently enters the apartment, and closes the door behind him before he hangs up your coat.

It takes him one good look to realize what's going on.

The hazy look in your eyes. The way you don't even greet him, rather occupied with the game Jungkook plays with you. Your almost clumsy way of movement.

"So that's the secret?" Yoongi hums as he sits down near his packmate, watching you with an unreadable expression.

Jungkook nods. "She's scared of anyone finding out." He reveals, while he watches you now nibbling on his finger instead of the toy, before you yawn.

"Why?" Yoongi wonders. "It's not like it's her fault or choice." He mumbles.

"Yeah, I know." Jungkook shrugs. "But I get it, you know? You hear horror stories about it all the time. Friends and family being weirded out and stuff." He explains, and Yoongi grows quiet.

It really is understandable.

"So that's why you sleep over so much?" He asks, and the younger wolf nods.

"She used to be triggered easily since she didn't have a person to rely on." He explains. "But when I took on that.. role, I guess, she became more stable. It doesn't happen so randomly anymore, she's got more control over it. Today was just a bad day I guess." He shrugs.

"She must be tough to handle." Yoongi mumbles.

"Not really." Jungkook denies. "She's very sweet. The beginning was hard, yeah, but mostly because I didn't know what to do. These days it's become easier." He nods to himself, though Yoongi doesn't miss the look on his friend's face.

"You love her." He states.

And Jungkook only nods.

"I do." He agrees. "It's hard not to."

Yoongi hums in agreement, and Jungkook wants to be swallowed by the ground. Now that the producer knows, he'll take over the care of you- you'll grow closer, emotionally and physically, and you'll no longer need Jungkook to care for you.

His dream is ending, and he hates it.

"She loves you too." Yoongi offers. Jungkook laughs a little.

"Situationally, yeah." He nods.

"No, in general." Yoongi argues, but he can't seem to push through the thoughts of Jungkooks mind, the wolf having already decided his stance on things. "Jungkook.."

"You'll take good care of her, right?" He asks, looking at his packmate with round eyes that try hard not to let any tears fall. "You'll make sure she doesn't have to.. feel ashamed, or bad, right?"

"I'm not taking her away from you." Yoongi shakes his head, and Jungkook nods.

"I know you're not." He says, trying hard to keep it together even as you crawl into his lap to comfort him, sensing his distress.

"She was never mine to begin with."

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You're absolutely mortified when you're informed of what happened- or rather when you connected the dots yourself, after waking from your nap with both wolves next to you in bed.

One look exchanged with Jungkook signals to him that you've pulled yourself out of your headspace- body shaking now with the overwhelming sense of shame you're feeling as Yoongi sits up now as well to look at you with a sense of worry.

"Hey, it's fine." Jungkook reassures easily. "He doesn't hate you or anything, he's cool with it."

"Oh god this is so weird.." you hide your face in your hands, embarrassed by the events unfolding like this.

"Its not. It makes sense, really." Yoongi shrugs. "So this is why you don't want to move into the pack dorm with us?" He wonders, and you nod.

"Its weird. You can say that, I know myself that it is." You sigh.

"You're not weird." Jungkook shakes his head, taking your hand to reassure you. "Promise."

"I agree. This isn't weird, it's something that happens to some." He shrugs. "I still like you." He says without thinking, as you slowly look at him.

"You.. do?" You wonder, and he nods.

"Very much." He smiles a bit awkwardly, when Jungkook let's go of your hand, clearing his throat.

"I'll.. I'll see myself out then." He mumbles, and at that your head snaps towards him.

No- he can't leave like that. Yoongi might've..somewhat confessed, but you still need him. You still want him here.

Wait.

If Yoongi likes you, and toy like him back, and that leads to you Noth becoming partners, that's great. But if that means you can't have Jungkook, you don't want it. You need jungkook.

You love jungkook, too.

"Hey, Yoongi will stay with you, you're not alone anymore-" He tries to settle your clearly bubbling panic, but its to no avail. Your head is filled with the fact that Jungkook wants to leave, and you don't want that.

You want both. Why can't they both stay?

Your cheeks are wet with tears as your puppy-mind refuses to accept the situation. You've slipped right back again, as you make jungkook hold yoongis hand, before you yourself hold onto them, stubbornly holding onto their connected hands, before you lay down on them, eyes closed and ears pinned back.

"I uh.." Jungkook stampers a big awkwardly, attempt at pulling his hand away responded to with a low growl from you, eyes glaring.

"Seems like we'll have to share." Yoongi teases surprisingly, catching the younger wolf off guard as hemeeys the older one's gaze.

"I mean- uh-" he stammers, unsure. "Is that.. will that even work out?" He worries, while you happily fall asleep hiding both their hands.

"Guess we'll have to find out." Yoongi shrugs, laying down again next to you, Jungkook slowly doing the same a few seconds later.

Looks like his dream didn't end after all-

Maybe it just begun.

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#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts jungkook imagine #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff

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foggycrusadepenguin · 2 months

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What do you get when you mix one piece with pokemon?

I've always liked the pokemon couple poses that trainers had so being able to use on made me really happy.

They are on vacation and are happily married no i don't hear suggestions.

Apart of course imagining what pokemon teams Buggy and Corazon would have which was also fun.

I did look for a few ideas for reference but they didn't convince totally so here's my take.

Prismarina it was his first pokemon, a gift from the Rogers they got along like a house on fire and now older are both a pair of drama queens.

Buggy:

Spoink, have you ever noticed how dark his Pokedex entry is? (Of he stops jumping he does) Anyway he likes shiny things and him and Buggy may have more than one dispute about the shiniest pearls and doing tricks but who doesn't.

Banette because Buggy is incredible petty and Banettes eat negative emotions, Buggy is basically a five star meal most of the time, there's also the thing that they are always searching for there missing child the one that abandoned them (they kind of wants vengeance but shush) and it kind of reminded me of Buggy and Shanks, the bittersweetness of loving someone, longing for someone and hating them at the exact same time. He is particularly mischievous and alongside mew are a flashy combinations beware when you see them together because pranks and disaster follow.

Vaporeon, looks like a clown and just feels right, she enjoys doing tricks a lot to, it's also a contrast to Rosinante Leafeon.

Mew, yes he has a legendary Pokemon, does he know that? Nope, no idea, it's just the flying rat that has been following him since he was young, Mew finds him very amusing and fun sadly she isn't much help when it comes to danger because she thinks it's all a joke, she is however pretty overprotective of Buggy when it comes to the water though at least once she understood it dangerous for him, of course for this he nearly drowned one to many times but who is counting.

Chansey which he meet after his father death, she gave one look to the small traumatized, underfeed child and said mine, she has a lot of work with how clumsy Corazón gets but she wouldn't change her trainer for the world.

Richi also exist in this universe as a male alpha Pyroar, alpha pokemon tend to be bigger than normal pokemon and Richie is really large. Though he isn't in Buggy team, he is Mohji pokemon.

Corazón pokemon consist of:

Spinda he saw Corazón tumbling one time and he was just like a brother from another mother, they tend to tumble around together even if Corazon tumbling is more involuntary thanks to his clumsiness.

Leafeon has suffered more than one accidental burn but not thanks to Corazon it's mostly because he tries to turn of the fire he creates though and he ends up crisped in the process.

Dragonite they have been together since he saw the little Dratini and decided to take it with him, he is very peaceful and caring.

No Corazon doesn't have a Luvdisc regardless of how many he has in his clothes.

Talking about pokemon got me curious about what pokemon other though fitted them so if you have any ideas feel free to share them :D

The doll that Buggy is holding is a litleo the pre evolution of Pyroar.

And the pokemon that Law is grabbing even if you only see the ends is Drifloon. They kidnap kids apparently seem familiar (I am looking at you Rosi)

Anyway have a good day :3

#buggy the clown #corabug #one piece #one piece fanart #one piece rosinante #rosinante corazon #one piece buggy #law one piece #trafalgar law #pokemon

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tilebytiles · 2 months

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infallible beliefs - a.t. (part 1)

summary: as it turns out, professors are actually capable of feeling things, and alex feels more things for you than he’d like to. word count: 7.8k warnings: age gap (reader is 21 and alex is 30), mentions of violence, abuse (physical, emotional and financial) a/n: the reason he's 30 is bc i personally didn't feel comfortable writing an age gap bigger than that ! lets all just use our imaginations and pretend that the looks are there </3

You liked to consider yourself the kind of person that had everything together. To some degree, you thought you did - you went to school and kept your grades up, you had a part-time job at a local pet store that you loved, and you shared a lovely flat with your boyfriend of three years. By all appearances, you had your life together. But that was the exact issue, wasn’t it? What good were appearances supposed to be when you constantly felt like you were on the brink of falling apart?

Coffee in hand, you rushed into the English building and made a beeline for your British Literature professor’s classroom. Due to the smaller size of your class, it was never in one of the lecture halls, meaning lessons always felt more intimate. You knew everyone’s names - you couldn’t say the same for the astronomy class you’d taken during your first year, or the nutrition class you were taking this term in an effort to chip away at your electives. You were normally one of the more participatory students, asking questions and answering any your professor posed to the class. Your love for literature ran deep, hence why you intended on getting your degree in English. It was easy for you to be invested in the lessons.

“Good morning, Ms. L/N,” your professor called from the desk at the front. He was doing something on his laptop, presumably trying to get the slides for today pulled up.

You smiled softly at him. “Good morning, Mr. Turner.” You walked to your usual seat and set your bag down on the floor, settling down into the chair. Your coffee felt like it would run cold soon if you didn’t finish it.

You were in your third year of university - in the middle of the spring term - and Mr. Turner was the nicest professor you’d ever met. You’d taken one of his classes before, and when the term had ended, you were half-tempted to sign up for every class he was offering. Would half of them even fit into your schedule? No. Did you really care? Also no. There was something about him that made his class actually enjoyable; maybe it was the way he spoke - soft yet sure, polite even when he was being forced to listen to the stupidest thing he’d ever heard - or the way he presented material, like he was genuinely interested in it and he wanted you to be, too. Whatever it was, you were utterly captivated.

The clock struck 10am, and Mr. Turner shut the door to the room before turning to the class. “Good morning, everyone. Today, I thought we could discuss Charlotte Brönte and the impact of her writing, most notably Jane Eyre.”

Rent was due soon. You needed to remind John to pay it. Speaking of John, he’d told you to ask for a raise at the pet store, but you really didn’t think you needed it. Your current wage was enough, wasn’t it? Plus, you didn’t want to come off as money-hungry by demanding more pay out of nowhere. Was he concerned about money? You knew the two of you had enough. You took a sip from your coffee and tried not to make a face; it was lukewarm. In your eyes, coffee either had to be piping hot or freezing cold to be enjoyed. You preferred iced coffee, but the risk of frying your taste buds prevented you from chugging hot coffee as soon as you got it, so you tended to opt for it instead. You were suddenly glad you didn’t try to get John coffee; he would be as displeased by the temperature as you were. He only liked hot coffee. Would you see him for lunch? If you did, you could remind him about rent then. You hoped he wouldn’t want to go back to your flat to eat.

“Ms. L/N?”

The sound of Mr. Turner’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up at him. “I’m sorry?”

His expression didn’t change, but you could have sworn you noticed a subtle shift in his eyes. “I asked what you thought of the feminism in Jane Eyre.”

“Oh, uh …” Silence filled the classroom, the kind that was all-consuming and threatened to swallow you, your classmates and your professor whole. There was a metallic thunk as someone near the back set their water bottle down. You looked down at your notes, as if they’d save you, but you’d written a whole of three sentences before clocking out. Speaking of clocks, what time was it? How long had you been deep in your own thoughts?

You finally acted as your own saviour and managed a meek, “I think it’s a product of its time.”

Mr. Turner’s eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly, and he nodded slowly. You were waiting for him to point out your spacing out to the rest of the class, but he said nothing of the sort. All he said was, “That could be argued, yes. Brönte didn’t write Jane as a hyper-feminist that smashed all stereotypes and expectations of women in the 1800s. In fact, many have argued that Jane Eyre has no true feminism due to Jane’s submission to gender roles by the end of the novel …”

The rest of the lesson went by in as much of a blur as the first half did, except now you were actually trying to pay attention. Eventually, Mr. Turner dismissed all of you, and the room was filled with bags unzipping and the clacking of pencils and pens being picked up off desks. You got your things together and stood from your seat, preparing to head out (and throw out your disgustingly cold coffee on the way). You were stopped, however, by the sound of your professor’s voice as he said, “Ms. L/N, could I have a word with you, please?”

You made a quick trip to the bin beside the door and tossed out your coffee cup, then circled back around and stepped towards the desk at the front of the room. Mr. Turner had looked down for just a moment, marking something on a sheet of paper, but as you grew closer, he looked up, offering you a small smile. It did nothing to calm your nerves. Gulping slightly, you said, “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes. It’s about your …” He looked off to the side as he searched for the right word. “… inattentiveness in class recently.”

The alarm bells sounded in your head, and your brain was a breath away from sending a signal to your legs to get you the fuck out of there. Sensing your impending panic, he quickly added, “You’re not in trouble, I promise.”

Your brain halted. “Oh. I’m not?”

“No. Believe me, you’re not the first student I’ve had to zone out during my lessons.” He waved his hand dismissively as he spoke, as if trying to shoo away your worries. “However, it is strange coming from you. You’re normally a very active participant, but recently, you’ve hardly spoken. I just wanted to know if something was going on.”

You didn’t know if you were relieved or even more scared. “No, I’m fine,” you replied, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I’ve just had a lot on my mind, is all.”

“Well, you can always talk to me if you just need somewhere to dump your thoughts. You’re one of my best students, and I wouldn’t want to see you fail.” He smiled again, and you managed a small smile in return. You appreciated his offer, although you weren’t sure if you’d be using it anytime soon. You didn’t want to burden him in any way.

You hadn’t noticed the way his gaze latched onto your wrist. At least, not until his brows furrowed. He raised his hand, but didn’t touch your wrist, just gestured to it. “Where did that come from?”

You looked at your wrist, equally as confused as he was, and saw the small bruise that had formed just below where the bone protruded. The alarm bells started back up, and your brain began drafting up that signal for your legs. “Oh.” You gulped. “It’s nothing. I just bumped into a table in my flat.”

His eyes narrowed, and his hand dropped back to his side. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Turner,” you said quickly, already turning around to leave. “I appreciate the concern, really, but I’m just clumsy. I have to go now.” You beelined for the door. “See you on Friday!”

“… Right. Have a good day, Ms. L/N.”

It took everything in you to not run down the hall and slam through the doors. You forced yourself to keep your pace at a brisk walk, gently pushing the doors open once you reached them. You spotted John’s car in the nearby parking lot with relative ease and headed towards it, cursing yourself internally for the shitty excuse you’d made for Mr. Turner. Bumping into a table? Really?

As you slipped into the passenger seat and settled your bag into your lap, John leaned over the console and kissed your cheek. “How’d your class go?”

“It went okay.”

You secured your seatbelt, and John reached over, gently grabbing your wrist. He turned it over, examining the bloom of purple by the bone. “Why didn’t you try to cover this up with makeup?”

“I was in a rush this morning. I didn’t think to.”

His grip tightened, his fingers digging into the bruise and making you wince. “No one saw it, did they?”

“No.” You didn’t dare mention your professor’s questioning.

“Good.” He released your wrist, then put the car in reverse and looked up at the rearview mirror as he began backing out of the parking spot.

The car ride was silent as John drove the two of you to wherever he planned to take you for lunch (not your flat - you’d already passed the street he would normally turn onto). You were content to stare blankly out the window the whole time, but he had other ideas. “You know I love you, right?”

You looked over at him, a little surprised. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “I know.”

“I would never intentionally try to hurt you like that, baby. Last night was just …” He sighed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I was just frustrated, that’s all.”

The frustration in question arose when you had asked if you could buy the Starry Night Lego set. Van Gogh was one of your favourite artists, and you’d been dying to get the set since it had first released. When you told him what the price was, though, John was practically seeing red. The bruise did come from a table, but it was less because you’d bumped into it and more because he had shoved you and sent you crashing down against it. You had apologised and promised to never bring the set up again.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, dragging you out of your thoughts and back into the car.

“I know,” you repeated. You couldn’t remember the last time you had said you loved him.

The car eventually came to a stop, and you looked up, spotting the café he had brought you to. The two of you had eaten there a few times before; you quite enjoyed the food, although John wasn’t very fond of coming because he was convinced the male waiter stared at you. The last time you were here, you’d made a point of checking for stares, and every time you looked, the waiter’s eyes were nowhere near catching yours. You kept that to yourself, though, not wanting to have a shouting match with your boyfriend in the middle of lunch.

As you both headed for the door, you wondered if this was his way of trying to make amends. You knew it would take a lot more than a lunch date for you to forgive him, but you at least appreciated his efforts; it was better than him doing nothing at all, right? His fingers were stiff between yours as he held your hand just a bit too tight to be comfortable, guiding you through the café as the employee behind the counter led you to an open table. You sat down across each other, and the employee informed you your waitress would be with you in a couple of minutes before disappearing, presumably to return to her post. You picked up one of the menus and opened it up, quickly scanning the options available to you.

Sure enough, your waitress came just a couple of minutes later, notepad in hand. “Hey, friends,” she said with a warm smile. You liked her already. “My name is Alina, and I’ll be your waitress. What can I get you guys to drink?”

“Can I have a margarita, please?” John asked, looking up from his menu.

Alina nodded and quickly jotted it down before looking to you. You did your best to return her smile and said, “Just water, please.”

“Alright, a margarita and some water. I’ll be back with those drinks as quick as I can, and then we’ll get going on food, okay?”

“Thank you,” you said, watching as she departed from your table. You eventually looked back over at John, doing your best to mask your mild disapproval. “Are you sure you should be drinking this early in the day?”

He scoffed. “Y/N, I can hold my alcohol. I’ll be fine.”

“But you’re driving-”

“I’ll be fine,” he repeated, his voice growing cold. You nodded and looked back down at the menu, pretending to suddenly be interested in the café’s sandwich selection.

Eventually, Alina returned with John’s margarita and your water and set both drinks down on the table before getting her notepad back out. “What can I get you guys today?”

“I’ll have the salmon Benedict with a side of chips, please,” John said, looking down at his menu before looking up at Alina.

She nodded and wrote down his order before turning to you. “And for you?”

“She’ll have the Caesar salad.”

She looked back at John, slightly surprised, but nodded and wrote it down anyway. “Will that be all for you two?”

“Yup.”

“Alright, I’ll get this to the kitchen.” She smiled at the two of you and collected your menus before departing once more.

John reached over the table and lightly tapped your nose. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” You looked up at him. “Nothing.”

“You could try to look happier, you know.” You sighed through your nose and forced your best smile. He rolled his eyes. “Not like that.”

“I’m not unhappy, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” You kind of would, but you didn’t tell him that. “You haven’t even thanked me for bringing you here when you know I hate coming here.”

“Thank you, John.”

“For?”

The image of you dumping his margarita right into his lap flashed through your mind, but you quickly shooed it away. “Thank you for bringing me here even though you don’t like being here.”

He nodded, as if to say your thanks was satisfactory enough. “You’re welcome, Y/N.”

You were beginning to wonder how much longer you could do this for.

•••••

“Alexa, I could’ve come here on me own.”

“You could’ve, but I wanted to come with you. You can shop for your cat, and I can shower the animals in attention.”

Alex sighed and pulled the door to the pet store open, allowing Alexa to step through first before following her inside. It was the middle of the week and just shy of turning to 6pm, so there weren’t many other customers inside. He kept running through the list he’d made in his head, not wanting to forget anything, and headed for one of the aisles while Alexa flagged down an employee to ask about petting the puppies.

He hadn’t intended to become a cat owner, but during an outing (with Alexa, funnily enough), he’d come across a stray black kitten shivering to death in a cardboard box. The sight of its small, furry form teetering between life and death was too much to bear, and it’d taken hardly any convincing on Alexa’s part before he was picking up the cardboard box and carrying it back to his car. They’d immediately gone to the vet and had the cat taken care of, and it turned out to be a male. Alex named it Herbert.

That was a couple of weeks ago. Although Herbert had the basics - food, a collar (for when he was actually big enough to fit in it), a bed (that he didn’t really use because he always slept with Alex) - he didn’t have much in the way of entertainment. Alex wasn’t sure which toys he’d like the most - which toys any cat would like the most, actually. He wasn’t used to taking care of animals.

He slowed to a stop in front of a shelf full of cat toys and bent down to grab a small plush mouse. He turned it over and over in his hand, trying to decide if Herbert would like it. It was a mouse, and cats were obsessed with mice, weren’t they? If the wild misadventures of Tom & Jerry had taught him anything …

“Mr. Turner?”

He looked up at the sound of his name and locked eyes with one of the employees over the shelf. “Ms. L/N,” he said, blinking a couple of times in surprise. “I didn’t realise you worked here.”

You smiled at him, perhaps a little shyly, and he instantly recognised it as the kind of smile you donned in class whenever you were invested in the topic at hand. For a brief second, he questioned why he even remembered what that smile of yours looked like, but he tried not to dwell on that for too long. “I’ve worked here for a little over a year now,” you told him, dragging him back out of his own head. “It’s a nice excuse to deal with animals all the time.”

You liked animals, then. He made a mental note of that, although he wasn’t sure why. “That’s entirely reasonable,” he replied, managing a small smile that mirrored your own. “I became a literature professor because … well, I love literature.”

You laughed at that, a small, soft laugh that bordered on a giggle. “I don’t imagine you’d become a literature professor because you love science.”

He chuckled. “No, certainly not. Science was never really my thing, anyway.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Ah, I needed to pick up some things for Herbert.” When you stared at him in confusion, he realised his error. “My cat, I mean. I wanted to get some toys for him, but, er, I don’t really know what cats like.” He held up the little mouse toy in his hand for emphasis, and your confusion quickly morphed into understanding.

He watched as you walked around the shelves and made your way to the aisle he was on, coming to stand beside him in front of the row of cat toys. “Do you know how old he is?”

“Uh, not even a year, I don’t think. He’s a tiny little thing.”

You nodded slowly and seemed to think on it before reaching out to grab a toy that perfectly resembled a fishing rod. It was one of those sticks with the line of string at the end and something attached to the string, but the something in question was a little stuffed fish. Clever marketing, really. “Kittens tend to be more energetic, so he’ll probably get a kick out of something like this.”

You held it out to him, and he took it from you. “Thank you, Ms. L/N.”

“Oh, you don’t have to call me that,” you said quickly. “You can just call me Y/N.”

His brows raised a little, although he didn’t object. He knew your first name, of course - he knew all his students’ first names - but he always opted to refer to everyone by their last name, seeing it as the polite thing to do. Calling a student by their first name felt … foreign, admittedly. If you wanted him to, though … “Right,” he said, smiling faintly. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You returned his smile, and he hated the faint flutter he felt in his chest at the sight. “Of course, Mr. Turner.”

Silence settled between the two of you, although it wasn’t necessarily awkward. A question lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t sure how to phrase it. He wasn’t sure if it was even his place to ask (it probably wasn’t). Still, before he could catch himself, the words tumbled from his mouth. "Are you ... doing any better?" He had half a mind to run out of the store and quit his job.

The way you were staring at him wasn't helping.

"Oh, um ... yeah," you said, your voice quieter than it'd been before. "I mean, it healed." You held your wrist up, and his gaze dropped to the smooth skin beneath your wrist bone. Sure enough, the purple blemish that had been there before was gone. A part of him was relieved, but another itched to know why you'd even had a bruise in the first place.

"That's good," he murmured, his gaze flickering back up to meet yours. "Y/N ..." He paused, then sighed. It really wasn't his place to ask, but - "If you're alright with me asking, where had that bruise really come from?"

He watched as your own gaze fell upon your wrist. You slowly turned it over, as if you were expecting to find some new mark you would need another half-assed excuse for. Nothing was there, though. You eventually opened your mouth, a syllable of a word escaping your throat, and he was immediately bracing himself for the answer - one he knew he wouldn't like - but you never got to tell him. At the same time you began to speak, Alexa came over, nudging her shoulder against his. "Did you find anything?"

He jumped slightly at the sudden contact and looked over at her, blinking once or twice. "Oh, er ... yeah. She helped me." He gestured to you, making Alexa glance over at you. "She's one of my students," he added.

Alexa smiled at you and held her hand out for you to shake. You did so and offered her a small smile. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Ms. Chung in the design department, but you can just call me Alexa. I don't think I've seen you around campus before."

"I'm Y/N," you told her. "I'm going into literature, so that's probably why we haven't crossed paths."

"Alex didn't have to bully you into that, did he?"

You laughed and shook your head. "Not at all. I'd already decided a while ago what I wanted to study. He's been a wonderful professor, though."

You thought he was wonderful?

It was stupid, and he felt like a teenager again, his head partway in the clouds and partway stuck to reality as he bought the cat toys and some extra food for Herbert. Stupid and reckless, that's what it was. You were his student, and as far as he knew, you were that nice to everyone. You considering him a wonderful professor didn't mean a damn thing, and it was insane of him to think it did - no, scratch that, to want it to mean something.

Those feelings of his weren't entirely out of the blue; he'd just gotten good at ignoring them and maintaining a professional boundary between the two of you. Even if it wasn't illegal - you were 21, and he 30 - it was morally reprehensible and went against everything he stood for. Sometimes, though, he still found himself staring at you for just a second too long, and sometimes your enthusiasm in his class made his heart skip one too many beats. Throughout the term, he had done his best to never cross the line he'd personally drawn, but when he'd seen the bruise on your wrist ... it was difficult to deny the feelings it stirred up within him. He didn't like the worry he felt seeing it, and he didn't like the cloud of concern that followed him for the rest of the day as your shitty excuse and your forced smile played on repeat in his head.

"Earth to Turner."

Alexa waved her hand in front of his face as they walked down the sidewalk together, heading back to his car so he could deposit the bag of goods for Herbert inside. He blinked in surprise and looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

"You're thinking awful hard over there."

"I've just - got a lot on me mind, is all," he said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand.

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't press him for answers. She just shrugged and sighed, redirecting her gaze to the world in front of them. "Whatever you say, Al." He knew she could see right through him, although he was silently grateful she didn't say anything else; frankly, he wasn't sure he even had any answers for her.

What were you doing to him?

•••••

You weren’t fond of bars. You didn’t mind alcohol - although you usually kept your drinking restricted to special occasions - but having to deal with other drunk patrons wasn’t the greatest way to spend your time, you thought. Having to deal with your drunk boyfriend wasn’t great, either.

You weren’t fond of bars, but when John wanted to go to one, you weren’t really in a position to say no.

Although your boyfriend seemed to go all-out every time the two of you left your flat, you couldn’t be bothered. You pulled on a white skirt that went down to your knees and a grey jumper than had some American university you were unfamiliar with printed on it (you had gotten the jumper from a charity shop, if you were remembering correctly). Despite it being spring, days were still cold in London, and the nights weren’t any better. Plus, you preferred to show as little skin as possible, especially if you had to be around drunk men.

You stuffed your phone, wallet and keys into your bag and double-checked that you had everything before zipping the bag shut and slipping the strap over your shoulder. John finally re-emerged from the bathroom and ran a hand through his hair, raising an eyebrow at the sight of you. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

“I don’t see an issue with it,” you said. Your voice was a bit curt, showing that you weren’t in the mood to deal with his persnickety bullshit, and he seemed to get the message. Instead of responding verbally (starting an argument), he just nodded and grabbed his keys.

Fifteen minutes later, after an uncomfortably silent car ride, you found yourself sat beside John in one of the booths at the back of the bar, nodding absentmindedly and giving false hums in an effort to make yourself seem like you were paying attention to whatever it was he was rambling about. You were only really picking up bits and pieces - his older brother was disappointed in him, he was convinced his parents didn’t love him even though you knew from firsthand experience that they very much did, all things you’d heard before. It wasn’t that you didn’t care; to a degree, you did sympathise with him. But it was only to a degree.

As he drunkenly babbled on in your ear, you glanced around the dimly lit bar, your eyes scanning dozens of faces you didn’t recognise. You could pick out a couple - students you’d seen around campus before - but the rest came together to form a sea of unfamiliarity in front of you. You sipped from your glass, wincing as the alcohol carved a burning trail down your throat. The bar you were in had live music on the weekends, and tonight, the performer was someone you hadn’t caught the name of. He had a shaved head, wore what appeared to be a leather vest with nothing underneath and a pair of black skinny jeans, and his eye makeup was leagues better than anything you could pull off. He seemed cool, and you liked the sound of his voice. You made a mental note to figure out who he was before you went home with John.

“I have to use the restroom,” you said suddenly, standing up from your seat and cutting John’s sentence short. You looked down at him. “I’ll be right back.”

His brows furrowed, and he grabbed your wrist. “I’ll go with you.”

“I’ll be fine, I promise. Just wait here.” You pried his hand off (due to his inebriated state, he wasn’t gripping you very hard) and slipped out of the booth, heading straight for the bathroom. You kept your head down, doing your best to avoid eye contact with anyone.

The music was muffled and, admittedly, a little less headache-inducing in the bathroom. You stood in front of the row of sinks and sighed, rubbing at your face with your hands. You examined your reflection in the mirror, immediately noting the dark circles under your eyes and the almost gaunt appearance of your cheeks. Had you lost weight recently? You hadn’t noticed. You’d been too busy with everything else …

“Fuck you!” a shrill voice screamed, bounding into the bathroom as the heavy door swung shut behind the owner. You jumped at the sound and turned your head, watching as a girl stomped behind you, stopping in front of the sink beside you. She was huffing, her chest heaving, and for a second, you swore you saw steam pouring out of her ears.

It wasn’t really your place to get involved, but she looked like she was a breath away from blowing the building up. Slowly, you asked, “Are you alright?”

She slammed her bag down onto the countertop - that, too, made you jump - and began rummaging through it, pulling different things out. Ah, she was fixing her makeup. “My stupid fucking boyfriend started chattin’ with some other girl and thought I wouldn’t fucking notice,” she said, opening up a pack of makeup wipes. “It’s not even the first time he’s done it, I’ve just been too nice and let him off.”

“Did the girl know you-“

“If she did, I’m rippin’ her fucking face off,” she muttered.

Fair. You turned the water in your sink on and let it warm up for a few seconds before leaning down to splash your face. “Is he still your boyfriend, then?”

She scoffed. “Absolutely not. I told him he can go find some other girl to be a wanker around since he’s so desperate to get away from me.”

As you rinsed your face off, you wondered if you should have been grateful that John wasn’t a cheater. As far as you knew, anyway. Sure, everything else he did was … less than ideal, but at least he wasn’t going behind your back. Right?

“Men are shite,” the girl said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You turned the water off and reached for the paper towel dispenser. “Yeah. They are.”

You could only think of one man (besides your father) in your life that wasn’t utter shite.

You left the bathroom after drying yourself off and intended to head straight back to your booth, but the sight of a familiar head of hair gave you pause. It wasn’t like he was the only one with that haircut, and for all you knew, you were about to look creepy as hell walking up to some random bloke and asking if he was someone else. Still, you couldn’t stop yourself from quietly approaching, hesitating before reaching up and tapping the figure’s shoulder. His head turned, his eyes seeking out yours, and for some reason, you felt comfort in being right in your assumption.

Your literature professor, the only man in your life that wasn’t utter shite, got up from his stool and turned to face you fully. “Y/N,” he said, raising his voice a little more than usual so you could hear him over the music, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I’m here with my boyfriend,” you told him, and if you weren’t paying attention, you easily would’ve missed the subtle shift in his expression before he schooled it back into a state of neutrality. “I could say the same of you.”

“Professors need a break, too, you know.”

He had a point.

You awkwardly shifted from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say now. You felt like you were seeing something you shouldn’t; like you were a child finding your teacher in the supermarket. You were both adults, sure, but the scene gave you the same feeling you’d had in the pet store. Encountering him outside of lessons just felt odd.

He seemed to feel the same as you, struggling to find anything to say. Eventually, he opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly interrupted by the sound of a voice behind you. You immediately knew who it was, and the way his gaze hardened confirmed it.

You turned and came face to face with John, who was nothing short of seething. “You said you were going to the restroom.”

“I did.”

“So then why the fuck are you here, chatting up some bloke instead of talking to me?”

“John-“

“Answer me,” he demanded, reaching out to grab your wrist. His grip was much tighter this time, almost bruising, and you winced at the pain that shot through you.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Mr. Turner began. “I’m just her-“

“You’re not a part of this, you fucking wanker,” John spat, glaring at him before looking back down at you. “Why are you talking to him?”

“He’s just my professor,” you said, forcing yourself to stay calm. “John, please.”

“Just your professor?” he echoed, ignoring your plea. “Why the hell’re you talking to your professor in a bar, hm? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Don’t do this.”

“Gettin’ him off for a good grade? Is that it?”

You felt sick to your stomach. “John, stop it, now.”

“I always knew you’d do this to me, Y/N! Can never fucking trust you with anyone! Am I not good enough for you? Everything I’ve done, and you’re shaggin’ your goddamn professor?”

“John, shut up!” you shouted, the last bit of your restraint slipping.

With your restraint went his - or what little he’d had left. Eyes wide, he lifted his free hand and quickly swung it in your direction.

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the impact, but it never came. The musician’s guitar stuttered. The drums missed a few beats. You opened your eyes and were met with the sight of Mr. Turner gripping John’s wrist, the veins in his forearm protruding with how hard he was holding it. His brows were furrowed down in rage, and you could see the anger that swam in his eyes, threatening to drown him and you and everyone in that damned bar. “Let go of her,” he said quietly, “and get the fuck out of here. Now.”

You’d never heard him swear like that before.

John stared at him, then at you, then at him again. He yanked his wrist from Mr. Turner’s grasp and finally released your own, turning to leave. Not, though, before saying to you, “Don’t bother coming home.” And then he was gone.

The loud chatter within the bar’s walls had been reduced to mere murmurs by the scene that had just unfolded. You were shaken up - quite a bit. You were used to him exploding, hurting you, but not in public. Never in public. He had gotten good at making sure his outbursts were kept behind closed doors.

“Y/N.”

You jumped at the sound of Mr. Turner’s voice and looked up at him. Your heart was thumping in your ears. You felt shaky. You needed to sit down. He could tell you were on the verge of a panic attack, and he put a hand on your back, murmuring something about finding you a seat as he led you to one of the back booths. It was a more secluded spot, away from the stares and whispers of the other patrons. You were grateful.

Murder was illegal. Murder was illegal. Murder was illegal.

That was the only coherent thought Alex was immediately capable of making. He let you slip into the seat first before slipping in beside you, making sure to keep a respectable distance between the two of you. You stared down at the table, and he stared down at you, thinking of a million things to say and not finding a single one of them appropriate given the circumstances. The more empathetic side of him wanted to dance around the issue, tiptoe around what had just happened, but he knew he’d never get any real answers if he tried to play nice. This couldn’t go on.

“Y/N,” he said again, crossing his arms and setting them down on the table, “how long has this been going on?”

You were silent for a few moments, making him panic internally and wonder if he’d already fucked up in his line of questioning. Eventually, though, your answer came to soothe his worrying brain. “At least a year, maybe more.”

“A year?” Murder was illegal. “Has he been hurting you this whole time?”

“He doesn’t usually hit me. That’s only when he gets really pissed about something.”

“When did this start?”

“When we moved in together. He had always been kind of … kind of rude before that, I guess, but once we saw each other every day, it was like he just snapped. I guess he realised he finally had power over me.”

Of course. If the flat was in his name, then he could kick you out at any point he wanted. One wrong move on your end, and you would be out on the streets. He’d backed you into a corner; a corner you hadn’t left in over a year. Alex’s heart felt heavy. “He’s always been kind of rude, you said. What … what do you mean by that?”

You sighed and sank a little further down in your seat. “He makes comments on my weight sometimes. He never calls me ugly or fat, but the implication that he’s unsatisfied with how I look is always there. He likes to poke fun at the books I like and the music I listen to and the films I watch. It’s like - like he wants me to be a carbon copy of him.”

“Y/N, your weight’s fine,” Alex said with a frown. “You look like you’ve lost weight, actually. I’m worried about you.”

You looked up at him, and the resignation in your eyes added extra weight to his heart. “I’m fine, Mr. Turner.” Even though you clearly weren’t.

Silence fell between the two of you, leaving Alex to swim in the pool of his thoughts. Realistically, the most he could do by the school's terms was offer you resources for abuse and maybe help you get your boyfriend reported to the authorities. The issue, though, was that as far as he knew, your boyfriend wasn't a student. You being one - one of his, for that matter - didn't immediately give him the right to get involved in your private life, even when you were clearly in danger. There was also the matter of whether or not you even wanted him to get involved - that one, he wasn't really sure on. He didn't want to betray your trust and interfere with your relationship if you asked him not to, but he also hated the thought of turning a blind eye to what was happening.

Alex had never been one for violence. That wasn't to say he was a total pacifist, but he typically believed things could be talked out rather than resorting to fists (or worse). When he had seen your boyfriend grab you, though, and prepare to hurt you in public with such ease and no shame, he was pretty sure he was a breath away from knocking that bastard to the floor and giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“He didn’t mean it when he told me not to come home,” you finally said, dragging Alex back out of his thoughts. “I just have to give him some time.”

Time. Of course. “If you’d like, I can drive you home.”

“I would appreciate that, Mr. Turner. Thank you.” He offered you a small smile, and you did your best to mirror it. It didn’t quite reach your eyes, but he appreciated the effort.

You would have given a more genuine smile, but you were embarrassed and still shaken up, and really, all you wanted was to curl up in bed and cry for a while. You knew that, realistically, it wasn't embarrassing to be in an abusive relationship, and you knew that Mr. Turner was one of the last people on the planet that would ever be judgmental over it. You certainly wouldn't judge anyone else for being in one. When it came to yourself, though, it was just ... you couldn't help but wonder if this was all your fault.

You weren't sure how long you and Mr. Turner sat in that booth, but it had at least been long enough that you were sure John had either cooled down or passed out in your flat. The pair of you got up and headed for the door, but not before he stopped to say something to the musician that'd been playing, who was now sitting at a table and nursing a beer. "Sorry I can't stay for the rest o' your set," he told him, "I've got somethin' I need to take care of."

The musician glanced at you, and understanding flickered in his gaze. "Course, Al. Don't even worry about it. I'll see you 'round, yeah?"

"Yeah." Mr. Turner flashed him a smile before turning back to you and leading you outside.

As he took you to his car, you asked, "Who was that?"

"Miles Kane. He's a friend of mine. We go way back."

"Oh." Miles Kane - you did your best to remember his name for later. "I like his music."

"Me, too." He opened the passenger seat of his car for you, and you quietly thanked him and slipped inside. He went around the front of the car and got into the driver's seat, turning the car on and fastening his seatbelt. You did the same.

After you gave him your address, the two of you fell into yet another bout of silence, although this one wasn't as uncomfortable as it'd been in the bar. Mr. Turner fiddled with the radio, eventually settling for a station playing rock songs from the 80s. You recognised a few of them, although you were more familiar with the general tune than the lyrics. You could occasionally see him tapping out the beat against the steering wheel from the corner of your eye.

Unlike the drive to the bar with John, which had felt like an absolute drag, the drive to your flat with Mr. Turner was much more bearable and hardly felt like ten minutes, let alone fifteen. Once his car slowed to a stop in front of your block of flats, you undid your seatbelt, the soft click seeming to echo in his car. "Um, thank you," you said quietly, popping the door open. "I really appreciate it. Sorry if I ruined your night or anything."

"No, no, it's fine," he said quickly, shaking his head. "You didn't ruin anything, alright?"

"Okay." You nodded.

You stepped out of the car, bag in hand, and were about to close the door when he suddenly said, "Y/N."

"Hm?"

"Can I put my number in your phone?"

Ashamedly, your brain immediately jumped to what you deemed the most logical conclusion: he was proving John right and hitting on you. "Huh?"

"So I can check on you, I mean." He smiled apologetically at you when he noticed the brief flash of panic that darted over your features. "I'm not, er ... I'm not like that, I promise."

"Oh. Yeah." Now you felt foolish. You unzipped your bag and fished your phone out, handing it to him. He was quick to create a new contact for himself and handed your phone back to you. His contact name was 'Alex Turner', and you didn't know why it surprised you. Maybe you were just so used to calling him 'Mr. Turner'.

"If anything ever happens, please don't be afraid to contact me, Y/N," he said softly. "I may just be your professor, but I'm also a human being. You can talk to me."

You nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Turner."

"Of course. You should go inside now, it's getting cold out."

After exchanging a final quick goodbye, you headed into your block of flats, taking a silent trip up in the lift to the floor you lived on. You retrieved your keys from your bag and unlocked the front door to your flat, immediately noticing that the lights were still off. You slipped in, shutting and locking the door behind you, and crept through the living room, being careful to not wake a sleeping John on the sofa. As you'd suspected - he must've fallen asleep after he got back. Had he been waiting for you?

You threw a blanket over him before continuing to your bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as you could behind you. You let out a small sigh and leaned against the wood for a few moments, shutting your eyes. This was not how you'd anticipated your night going. You eventually reopened your eyes and turned the light on, depositing your bag into the armchair in the corner. Out of curiosity, you stepped up to the window, peeking through the blinds to see if Mr. Turner's car was still there. He was already gone, though.

After getting changed into your pyjamas for the night, you collapsed onto your bed and held your phone over your face, peering at the screen in the newfound darkness. You kept reading Mr. Turner's name over and over, the image of his quiet rage permanently seared into your brain. You were so used to him being calm and collected at all times - quiet, too. Granted, he hadn't exactly raised his voice, but somehow, that was scarier than him shouting could ever be.

And it was all because of you.

tags: @elexnorislingtxn / @edandmollydeservebetter / @sagegreensimmr / @billyseye / @supernaturalandpain / @not-a-big-slay

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #the car era #arctic monkeys #am #fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #divider by plutism

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 11 months

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I liked your post a while back about MC just randomly singing in the LI's general vicinity, but what about a mini hc of when MC does it on purpose?

By this I mean serenading the M6 with a love song, possibly also accompanying said song with an instrument, possibly in a romantic setting for maximum flirtation >:)

The Arcana Mini-HCs: MC serenading M6

Julian: legit has to fight back tears because you're speaking his language!! covers it up with other theatrical ways of expressing emotions (big surprised face, clutching at his shirt over his heart, stage whispering your name) because this man doesn't know how to be the center of attention without putting on some kind of show

Asra: *surprised pikachu face* stays frozen while they blush all over because they are much more used to putting you in the spotlight than vice versa (and besides, anything that involves you returning their feelings is still a miracle to them). ends up staring back at you with an adoring smile until you're done and he can pay it back

Nadia: lights up with a grin so big and delighted that she keeps hiding it behind her hand. you're playing out one of her oldest romantic fantasies completely unprompted and it's a literal dream come true. goes out of her way to be the best audience/listener possible, clears the rest of her schedule to appreciate you properly

Muriel: the only way he won't immediately dip is if you do this in the hut, after dinner, as you're both relaxing by the fire. ends up sitting through it with his hand buried in Inanna's fur and his eyes looking at everything but you while he turns bright red and sweats buckets. he was listening to you though - he keeps humming it to himself quietly

Portia: squeals in surprise, blushes, and then sways in place while you sing, biting her lip with the biggest grin to keep from interrupting. keeps sending you happy, flirtatious looks with every romantic lyric and posing slightly with every compliment. bakes you cookies with her favorite lyrics stamped on them as a return gift

Lucio: this is exactly how he likes to receive his attention. reclines back like he's still on the throne in the old palace, idly petting the dogs while you sing and listening to you with a proud, happy smile. he does try to surprise you with the exact same setup the next night, but he has the dogs' howling as accompaniment since he can't play

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinavamuri #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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vigilskeep · 3 months

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Question! To you, is Minerva’s elf status inseparable from her personality? I never struggle when I make city or dalish elves but making my surana has me going nuts lol

minerva would tell you: absolutely not. to her, her identity is as a circle mage first, a grey warden second, and a fereldan third. being an elf is somewhere down below that and a few other things. she will always consider herself to have more in common with a human circle mage than anyone who wasn’t raised and trained the exact same way she is, but simply happens to have the same pointed ears. if you asked her if she was glad to have recruited one of her own people in the awakening dlc, her mind would jump to anders long before velanna

in reality, it does inform who she is. a lot of her dry disinterest in andrastianism stems from being an elf. it is a reason she has to work harder than any human to be taken seriously as a leader in most contexts. it’s one of the reasons she was a little socially targeted for her prowess by her peers growing up, which contributed to the untouchable veneer she keeps up, to not let people close enough to see she can be hurt. it obviously affects how she’s perceived by others, though she mostly considers this a lifelong inconvenience she has to work around. conversely, she is instinctively trusted by other elves, and while she doesn’t think about this much, she would be more hurt than she would expect if that trust were revoked. she also trusts her fellow elves easier herself; she is aware of the threat that humans may always pose to her, whether genuine physical danger or simply a cruel part of their worldview they may let slip at any time, and has certain kinds of emotional guard up approaching them that she would not with a fellow elf. it’s one of the reasons it’s so easy to be around zevran from the start. and finally her obsession with being seen to be the one to save everyone from the blight, hoping that could change perspectives on people like her, is as much to do with being seen doing it as an elf as the other aspects of her identity.

but just because it’s not as clean-cut as she would like doesn’t mean she’s necessarily wrong and deluded about who she is, either. the tragedy of her elven identity is often that she sees it as this inconvenience and struggle she faces, something she has to drag along behind her, while having been severed from what all the joys of community and culture should be, thus never actually experiencing what many would consider key aspects of being an elf. she can’t speak a word of elven or recall any of the foods they make in the alienage or tell you why they keep a vhenadahl. (not that this makes her somehow not elfy enough to be an elf—she is one, she knows that, she just doesn’t really connect to that fact or see it as worthwhile to make any effort to.)

instead, the closest things she had to a father and brothers were human, and she was not made to feel by those people that she should be something separate or aspire to other goals than they did, even if she would have to work harder for it. the circle possesses disparities between human and elf, but its mages are a perhaps uniquely blended community in which incredible social mobility can be possible. (the grand enchanter is an elf! that’s wild!) an elf might be less likely to get a senior enchanter’s robes, but once they had them, that clear hierarchy was what any circle mage would see first. the way she was perceived in the circle was also not only due to being an elf but to being from tevinter, too, and the associated religious stigma meant that often people focused on the latter—despite the fact that being an elf should entirely change their perspective on what that means.

of course if you’re looking for inspiration for your own surana, minerva is a unique case, and yours may be entirely different! the separation from elven culture was done to her by the circle, but she also accepted it; minerva always eschewed her past prior to the tower, determined to live this life and meet her mentor’s expectations. other suranas might have fought to keep the identity they arrived with, creating very different people and approaches

#minerva surana

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pablitogavii · 1 year

Note

can you do where the reader is a ballerina and pablo goes to see her and he brings her flowers and he’s so proud and cute 🥺🥺

Bellerina

Pablo's POV

"Will you relax already hermano!?" Pedri was helping me get ready and I was very thankful he and Ansu agreed to come with me to my girlfriend's premier night.

"Do you think we are overdressed!?" Ansu came out never in his life wearing a suit which made both me and Pedri laugh out loud when we saw him. I really needed this laugh right now!

"It's a ballet premier cabrón! Everyone is dressing up!" I said and Ansu groaned rolling his eyes while checking himself out on the mirror. I took my phone out smiling when I saw the message from her.

nena<3: I'm turning off my Pablito..I can't wait to see you after the show ❤️❤️ te amo!

pablitoo: good luck princesa mia! i'll be watching you proudly and know you will do great! just be yourself and be careful please ❤️❤️ te amo muchisimo!

"Ready to go?" Pedri said and I put my phone away grabbing the tickets and we all left to drive to the theater together.

Y/n's POV

"Your boyfriend is coming tonight right!?" Sofia (one of my closest friends) asked and I nodded blushing red at the thought of Pablo watching me dance.

"I know that's exciting, but I hope you will remain focused!?" teacher added and I nodded smiling at my friend when she left.

After texting Pablo knowing I will need to turn off my phone to stay concentrated, I also posted a picture on Instagram hoping people would come see out show we worked so hard to prepare.

y.n.bebe

Tonight is the BIG SHOW! Who is coming?? ❤️ #ballerina

comments:

pablogavi: can't wait to watch you dance bebé ❤️❤️

pablitogavii: he's going to watch her!!??

gavigavi: now i need to go!!

y/ngavicouple: it's her night! 😔

ansufati: I wore a suit for this!! 😂 can't wait!!

pedri: we're all supporting you amiga!!

sofiabellarina: let's do this!

aurorapaezg: always beautiful! 😍

Pablo's POV

We drove first to the florist to grab a bouquet for her and I was looking at all of them unsure which one is perfect.

"If you're nervous, just choose her favorite flower.." lady asked and I smiled asking if she can make anything with orchids remembering your story how people don't appreciate water flowers enough.

"That might be hard..but I'll do my best" she said making the bouquet right there before giving ti to me and I smiled really hoping my girl likes it. I payed and we left to the car.

When we arrived, we gave out tickets walking inside before the hoard of fans could get to us. I promised myself that tonight is about her, and she was going to the the only one who will have my attention.

We went to our seats and shortly afterwards the show started. This was the first time I was in the ballet show and I had to admit it was a strange feeling.

"When is her solo part?" Pedri asked and Pablo showed him the program pointing at your name proudly smiling knowing that he will be keeping this piece of paper forever.

You always told him how proud it made you when you came to watch his games, and tonight he felt exact the same finally understanding what it means.

"She's next.." Pablo said putting down the paper and looking at the stage as the curtains opened and the music started.

Y/n POV

I said my preyer before the music started cuing me to walk on stage. I forgot about everything around em just focusing on the melody moving to it on stage feeling like I was flying.

It was strange but I could feel his gaze on me the whole time. It didn't distract me, the contrary, it made me more engulfed int he feeling of the piece and the emotion it portrayed.

When my solo came to the end I kept the final pose for a few seconds while everyone applauded and I was finally able to open my eyes meeting his brown ones in the close rows.

I saw him smile proudly at me and my heart was full as I walked off the stage. It was a new strange feel of accomplishment when I saw that he was proud of me.

"Y/n!" teacher called and I rushed seeing her smile as she pulled me into a tight embrace. It was very out of character for her to show emotion but I was glad he enjoyed my performance so much.

"You were..I'm speechless..also, this was sent from the audience for you darling" she gave me the bouquet and before even reading the note I knew who it was from..the orchids..he remembered.

mi amor...you're my special water flower and I will forever cherish and appreciate you. te amo! -your Pablito

You just blushed smelling the flowers while all your friends were cheering telling you how lucky you were to have such a sweet boyfriend.

Pablo's POV

Show was soon over and everyone enjoyed it applauding loudly at the end. Even Pedri and Ansu asked if they can come again some time and I chuckled nodding my head.

"We can take you backstage now" they came to pick us up and I was excitedly rushing to finally see her again. I couldn't wait to congratulate her in person finally.

"Amor!" I called and she rushed to me still in her costume which I thought it was adorable. She jumped in my arms and I grabbed her small body twirling her around.

"You were..amazing princesa" I said and she blushed before I held her face and kissing her lips passionately. She pulled away wanting to greet my friends too which I completely forgot they were there.

"Thank you for coming..I hope it wasn't too boring" she said and both of them shook their heads congratulating her which made her smile happily. She was so pretty whens he was smiling.

"You also look amazing in a suit Ansu" she chuckled and we all joined her before both of them hugged her saying they will go back to the seats and leave you two alone before the final bow.

"What can I say except..I am beyond proud of you..and I love you so much" I held her in my arms and she chuckled going up on her point shoes which gave her enough height to kiss my lips.

"Mm those are quite helpful huh?" I said and she chuckled nodding her head before I kissed her again pulling her closer and we danced together for awhile.

"Time for the finale" teacher called and she smiled nodding her head and turning back to look at me. I didn't want to let her go just yet.

Y/n's POV

"I have to go cariño..but we're going home together afterwards" I reminded him hating to see his sad face and he gave me a smile I needed to see kissing me one more time.

"I love you.." he said after letting go off me and I smiled nodding my head.

"I love you too.." I said starting to walk away and he did as well but then something came to my mind and I called his name making him turn around quickly.

"Thank you for the flowers cariño..they are perfect" I yelled and he smiled happy he chose right.

"Just like you..go mi ballerina!" he said and I rushed away while he returned to his seat with his friends.

When we came out for the final bow, everyone applauded and Pablo's eyes were only glued on my face..tonight was absolutely perfect. <3

pablogavi

Mi ballerina, you were incredible tonight and I am beyond proud of you. I can't believe I'm the lucky guy who gets to hold you and love you. You are special mi amor..so special ❤️ @y.n.bebe

comments:

y.n.bebe: this made me cry cariño 🥺❤️❤️ I love you so much!!

pablogavi: only happy tears are allowed princesa ❤️❤️

y/ngavicouplefans: they are so perfect!! always supporting each other!

sofiballerina: you're welcome on the picture!!

y.n.bebe: 😳❤️

belengavira79: perfectos!

pablogavi: ❤️

y.n.bebe: ❤️

pablogavifans: he's so happy! you're gorgeous Y/n!!

#pablo gavi x you #fc barca #fc barcelona #fc barça #gavi #gavigif #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #pablo gavi icons #pablo martín páez gavira #pablo gavira #gavira #gavi x vini #gavi x yn #gavi x you #gavi x reader #pablogavixreaderfluff #pablogavixreadersmut

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angelkissiies · 2 years

Text

california dreamin

abby anderson x reader & lev

cw : fluff, mentions of trauma, slight angst, abby and reader have a pre existing relationship and have practically adopted lev.

wc : 1.6k

The California heat was unforgiving, sending heavy rays of sun onto your back as you sat on the deck, looking out into the vast ocean that surrounded you. From your spot, you could make out the beginnings of the shoreline, the idea of having your feet back on solid ground giving you hope- but also sending a sharp pang of anxiety into your stomach. Though you knew the WLF and that girl were long gone, the fear they instilled in you remained. You found yourself rounding every corner expecting them to be there, expecting the freedom you all had created to be squished yet again. It made you ill, the thought of going back.

“You okay?” Lev asked, nudging your leg with his elbow lightly. He was still pulling apart the twine, fingers moving out of memory from all the times he'd done this exact thing back in Seattle. He’d been adamant about his fading belief in the prophet, though it was still a part of him he held dear to him- feeling as if it connected him more to Yara, even now.

You nodded, quickly, shaking the thoughts from your head as you glanced down at the pile of wood shavings that had begun to accumulate under your knife. You’d been whittling some twigs you’d found on your last excursion on land, making them more uniform for your craft project at hand. “Yeah, all good. Just thinking.” You hummed, shooting him a convincing smile. You tried to keep your worries to yourself, reading somewhere that sometimes babies can pick up on their parent's emotions. No, Lev was not a baby. No, you weren't his parent- but surely it worked the same way right?

He snorted, shaking his head as he focused back in on the twine, pulling the strings into smaller- more manipulable pieces.

“What?” You asked, turning to him, a faux serious expression resting on your face.

Lev shrugged, glancing over at you. “You’re just a bad liar. I know you’re scared, (y/n).” He said simply as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “It’s okay to be scared.”

“Who’s scared?” Abby popped up, pushing the door closed with her foot as her hands were full of plates containing the fish you all had managed to catch earlier- she’d taken it upon herself to cook considering you and Lev had managed to catch more fish than her.

You shook your head, scooting over to make more room for her, brushing the wood shavings off of the side of the boat before she noticed them. She was big on trying to keep the place clean, considering you had so many more weeks before you were even close to Santa barbara. “Nobody,” You began, making a point to stick your tongue out at Lev, who scrunched his nose in response. “That looks really good, Abs!”

Abby set the plates down in front of the three of you, silently praying the wind kept behaving- not wanting to have another incident. (That being when the wind picked up one night the three of you were having dinner and lev’s fish flew right off of his plate and back into the water. He almost cried.) “Okay, fine, keep your secrets.” She teased, her usually sandy blonde hair glowing a much lighter color from the constant abuse from the sun. It suited her, in your opinion.

You clicked your knife closed, tucking it into your pocket before picking your fork up- pulling apart the fish on your plate. It had taken some time, honestly a lot of time, before you’d gotten your appetite back. After weeks of living off of Seattle rain, nuts, and fear- you’d lost the ability to feel hungry, the idea of eating sending you right back into that survival headspace. You somehow had begun associating the most normal human need with the trauma you’d endured, the two going hand in hand when you thought about it more- which you tried not to do. “Any luck with that radio?” You posed the question, nodding back into the main cabin just down the stairs. When you’d gotten the boat from the aquarium, it looked like Owen had begun working on the radio, leading you to think maybe you all could figure out a way to finish his work. It would make contacting the fireflies much easier.

She shook her head, taking a sip from her water bottle. “No, I think it's too busted to work. The wiring is all fried, looks like it is from a power surge or something.” She explained, her soft gaze coming to land on you. Throughout this whole trip, she’d wanted to give up. It took everything in her to not turn back around and just give herself back to the only life she’d really gotten to know, the grief she battled was enough to eat her alive. The only way she’d made it this far was by leaning on you, opening herself up to your unwavering support, because no matter how strong she prided herself on being- it didn't keep the nightmares away as you could. She’d found solace in your arms.

“Well, I mean, that's okay. We’ll still find them.” You smiled up at her, finding yourself losing the air in your lungs as you finally got a second to take her in. Yes, you’d seen her before now- but it was different. In the slight shade from the sail, she seemed to be glowing. Her hair was sun-bleached, freckles dark on her cheeks, skin tinted slightly pink from the heat. It was a new Abby, one you’d gotten the pleasure of calling your own. She’d shed her old skin, coming back as a completely new person as she tried to heal through her trauma, aiming at creating a new life for you all. “How long do you think it’ll be before we get there?”

Lev interrupted before Abby had a second to respond, “No more firefly talk while we eat, gonna make me have an attack of panic.” He huffed, stuffing another forkful of fish in his mouth as he eyed the two of you.

“A panic attack, Lev.” You chuckled, giving him a soft nod to agree to his demands. He hated having to talk about the future, constantly wondering if you all would live to see that day. While you and Abby tried to avoid talking about the subject, there were times when it felt necessary. Now, it wasn’t- so you left it at that.

“That's what I said.”

Abby laughed, her eyes crinkling as she looked towards the boy affectionately, he’d been the beginning of all of this. A revolution of her life, sending her on the right track towards her future, which in every right was being here with you two. She really couldn’t see herself being anywhere else with anyone else. Every day she wished Yara could see him, how much he’d grown in such a short time, how strong he was. All traits he got from her. “How’s crafting going?” She hummed, nodding down to the shavings you’d missed.

Lev was noticeably piqued at the question, pushing his empty plate aside gently before moving to show her the pile of twine he’d collected from just stripping the fibers apart. “Look!” He spoke quickly, dipping into his pocket to collect the symbol he’d completed earlier. “It’s holding up really well, considering the twigs aren’t very bendy.”

She smiled, plucking the prophet’s symbol from his open palm gently. It always intrigued her, and she found herself almost opening up to the idea of letting Lev tell her of the prophets writing. Though, admittedly, she wasn’t the religious type. Her father always preferred to raise her on logic and science. “This looks really great, actually.” She praised, running her thumb over the smooth curve of the wood. She glanced over at you, seeing how your legs were covered in tiny shavings, before chuckling. “Can I help?”

He nodded, pulling another bunch of twine from his other pocket, and holding it out for her to take. It was like he could hold just about anything in his little cargo short pockets, once pulling a frog from them- much to Abby's dismay. Though, in his defense, he didn’t know she was scared of frogs. “(y/n)’s good at whittling, so you can help me.” He explained, taking the symbol and placing it back in his pocket.

You finished off your food in a hurry, the familiar resistance growing in your stomach, if you didn’t get it down now- you feared it would come back up later. You recovered quickly, making it seem like you just wanted to get back to whittling. “I think I’m average at whittling, plus, these sticks are tiny. Only so much damage you can do.” You joked, pulling your knife from your pocket as you got back to work on the stick you were working on. It was significantly larger than the others, seeing as you were aiming to make it bigger.

“Don’t undersell yourself,” Abby tutted, eyes narrowing as she gave you a once over. Her hand outstretched to grab your plate, stacking it with Levs before putting her own on top. It was a bad habit you had, making your skills seem less than they were, she’d noticed it back at the stadium but through the weeks of sailing, it had only gotten worse. She’d begun to think it stemmed from a fear of disappointing them, and not living up to the nonexistent standards they held. “It looks perfect, pretty.”

“Yuck.” Lev faux gagged, side-eying the two of you as he laughed lightly.

You reached over to playfully punch him on the shoulder, taking the attention off of your embarrassingly red cheeks. “Get over it!”

“You guys are so gross.”

“Lev, are you being homophobic?”

“Don’t say that to him, Abby!”

“Home-of-phobic?”

#abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby anderson x you #abby anderson ff #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fluff #tlou abby #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby x fem!reader #lev and yara #lev tlou #yara tlou #tlou ff #tlou #tlou2 #tlou part 2 #tlou masterlist

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blueeofsl · 1 year

Text

Okay so this is going to be a pretty long analysis on @somerandomdudelmao ‘s most recent update… Will have to be split into multiple posts because of pictures

Been staring at the post for a while and damn,,, imagine going from dying in an unforgiving wasteland to waking up in what I can guess is a soft mattress with a healthy portion of sheets and blankets. Like those are absolute opposites in terms of comfort

The fact that Leo wakes up with unfocused eyes (compared to his brothers, who almost immediately shoot up), tells us that he’s still expecting himself to be back in that apocalypse.

Also the frown he has in the middle panel, it’s probably just his face relaxing, but we see that it immediately goes to a frown. An “ugh, im so exhausted why am I awake?” Sort of expression. Which kinda continues to show in the last panel of this first page.

And in that entire time, Leo’s eyes never fully focus. Because he isn’t expecting anything good to happen for him. So why should he even try at this point when there’s no one left to save?

~~~~~

Which brings us to the next page. Zooming in, we can see that Leo is staring at the back of Donnie’s shell. Im guessing it takes him a moment to realize what he’s looking at because we get enough time to see Donnie struggle to stay awake. And knowing Donnie, this hints to Leo that this isn’t some sort of normal hallucination.

We can also see that Leo is on a soft bed, and is being consistently monitored by Donnie. I am wondering what Donnie is working on though. Maybe checking Leo’s vitals? A new prosthetic for Leo? Or maybe, for once, allowing himself to start to plan on a new invention. Something that doesn’t directly involve with whether the resistance will survive the next day or not. He shows this sort of stubbornness to keep himself awake until he’s sure that Leo is okay.

In the last panel we see Leo finally perk up as he crains his neck back to really get a good look at his twin. He probably notices how Donnie’s shell looks a bit wider, his arms a bit stronger. But maybe hasn’t fully recognized it yet. This is also probably where he lets his vision come into focus, and becomes more aware of his surroundings because oh shit, I’m not dying on packed dirt any more.

~~~~~

Moving on to page 3, Leo reaches out to Donnie to see if he’s real. These poses remind me of the first episode of the comics.

(Episode 1, part 7) Here we see Leo do pretty much the exact same hand motion as his tiny, little self. Which kinda tells us that Leo is moving purely on instinct, on emotion. His mind telling him to seek for that sort of comfort.

When he falls in the last panel of the recent comic, I feel like it becomes some sort of wakeup call for him. Because the fall from the bed to the floor is pretty far from what we see in page 2. And the noise of his shell hitting the floor was probably pretty loud too. Enough to scare Donnie out of what ever he was working on.

Would also like to take a moment to look at Leo’s scars, specifically the one on the shell. I realized it’s the scar from when Donnie had to forcefully pull his shell together by screws and wire. (Part 2 of Episode 11)

The fact that that scar is still on Leo’s shell shows us that it was an impactful moment for him (the revived turtles so far have shown that the scars/features that stay are those they think a lot about or have an emotional attachment to). He was lucky at that time. Because the rubble that caused that injury could have easily killed him. A wrong crack/break in the shell could have left him immobile for the rest of the war. But that’s where Donnie comes in because he knows that Leo would hate that.

The reason why the scar is so big on Leo’s shell now shows how much impact it had on his mind. At least that’s my guess…

~~~~~

Moving onto Page 4, we get a good view of Leo’s expression in all panels. First one shows pain, a wince. His arm looks to have twitched towards himself in order to protect his head. It could have also twitched because of Donnie’s sudden yell to him.

The second panel shows surprise. Because his twin is picking him off the floor. Symbolically speaking, this could mean that his family is here to pick him up now, to carry him over to better times.

This surprise is also towards the fact that Donnie is able to lift Leo when before, right on the day Donnie dies, it was Leo who was picking up Donnie.

Also notice how in this page, we don’t see Donnie’s face at all. Even when Donnie is lifting Leo up in the third panel, we just see the confusion on Leo’s face. And also, perhaps, a bit of fear. Maybe he was fearing whether or not this was a dream.

But heres the thing. Many have noticed the parallel of Donnie and Leo switching positions in who is carrying who. But I noticed another parallel in this page.

First panel in page 4 looks nearly identical to this page of Leo dying here.

When realizing this, the parallel just made that page so much more emotional to me.

Because Leo was expecting to be brought back to the apocalypse in his head.

~~~~~

Moving onto page 5, we get another good view of the scar on Leo’s shell. First panel though, love the Donnie face squish. There was no way he was gonna just let his twin sit on the cold hard floor when theres a bed right there.

This might be looking to much into it, but in the first panel, it looks like Leo is shaking too.

We also see that Donnie and Leo are the same size now, when before, Leo was larger than Donnie when the soft shell was sick.

The second panel again shows the emotion Leo is going through. To me, it screams “is this real? I can’t believe it. How is this happening?” And we can see that Donnie’s grip on Leo is strong and firm while Leo seems to sorta cling/melt into his twin.

In the third panel, Donnie is telling Leo to sit still. Perhaps this is because of how badly Leo is shaking, or the fact that he had just fallen out of bed. Either way, what seems as a command for a shitty patient has another meaning; that Leo is okay. He’s going to be taken care of, he just has to let his family take care of him. Just like how he took care of them and so many other people.

~~~~~

Page 6, We see Leo’s expression again, and the way his arm is still reached out from Donnie pulling it off his shoulder. It’s full of surprise but theres not much fear being shown except for the hollowness in his eyes.

Leo still doesn’t fully believe all of this is real. Then Donnie goes and starts moving around him, checking what’s left of his arm (some people are saying that it’s the first thing donnie checked. Also wondering if this could be him planning on a new prosthetic for Leo), and what I can guess is Donnie checking his heartbeat (the little white ninpo rectangle thing near Leo’s heart).

For Leo, this is quite overwhelming. He lets Donnie do his thing, but it’s been years since he’s seen his brother be so active around him. He shows signs of nervousness too, the wobbly line for his lips, and the way that his arm is tucked towards his middle, and his knees slightly pulled up and together. In that moment, he’s trying to make himself smaller.

Going back to scars again, notice the scarring on his neck. It’s the same injury from when he went to Donnie’s lab for guidance after almost getting his head bitten off by a krang dog. It’s another scar that’s left a large impact on Leo’s mind. Perhaps part of it is because of the krang dog, but another part I think is because of him yelling for Donnie.

~~~~~

THIS IS PART 1 OF ANALYSIS!

PART 2

PART 3

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #future leo #cass apocalyptic series #rise of the turtles #cass fanart tag #oof ive never made a post this big before…#hope it works

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blueishspace · 14 days

Text

Looped Sun 2

Loop #16

They didn't stop looping in time, but at least they had eachother. Grian had to admit that it was almost fun with Scar around, definitely felt less lonely with someone else to talk to.

Loop #19

It took 3 loops for Scar to suggest having some fun with this, spice it up. Grian hadn't expected stealing Martyns and Ren bit would be their objective this time but he didn't mind. Getting to be king and screaming "red winter is coming" was actually quite funny and being all shady in Last Life was nice too. As Secret Life comes to an end Scar whispers.

Scar: Alright alright, let me be king next time ok?

Grian laughs at the suggestion just in time for-

Loop #21

Grian had noticed soon that not every loop started the same exact day a while ago but he never expected to wake up already during Limited Life.

Surely things couldn't get weirder then that.

Loop #26

He spoke too soon. This time around he woke up as he was singing a piece of paper, a declaration of indipendence, while wearing a very weird blue american indipendence outfit together wih people he had never met before.

He just went along with it of course and fighting against a weird masked guy for indipendence had been a breath of fresh air but Scar was still missing and Grian was very confused the whole time.

Well until ...

Scar: Thank you Soot, however I think that I could run this country far better!

Grian: Scar? Where were you!? ... What are you doing!?

Scar: That's why I'm going to run myself! Vote for Scar 2020!

To be fair it took some times for things to go badly.

Grian: This is your fault you know that right?

Scar: Hey! Look! At least the country didn't explode or something-

*Boom*

Grian: ...

Scar: ...that wasn't me.

Loop #31

Grian: Damn I didn't bring enough tnt to rig the enchanter. How did I forget??

Scar: Don't worry! I got some!

Grian: Oh thank... where did you get it?

Scar: I kept it in my second inventory from last loop.

Grian: Your what?

Scar: We have a second inventory now! Didn't you notice!

Grian: I see it now ...how?

Scar: It keeps stuff safe from one loop to the other! Cool right!?

Grian: ... Like an enchanting table? But for loops?

Scar: I guess?

Grian: How are you not freaking out about this!?!

Loop #33

This time they woke up early, back in season 6! Grian doesn't understand why Scar doesn't care because he does! Why can't someone explain it to him for ender sake.

Loop #36

Someone explained it. He and Scar woke up somewhere completely different and it was confusing and scary but they finally got answers.

Grian: So our universe is part of a big big big tree?

Anakin: Yes, like every other.

Grian: And the tree is what, under maintenance?

Anakin: Basically.

Grian: And so we are stuck looping?

Anakin: You don't need to pretend to be calm, I can feel your emotions in the force.

Grian: So... we are stuck? Forever?!?

Anakin: Not forever forever, until the tree is fixed-

Grian: So possibly for billions of years!?!

Anakin: Some of the older loops have been going for trillions even.

Grian: ... I'll... I...need to think.

Anakin: I'll write some useful terms down so you can read them once you aren't... You know.

Grian: Guess I have all the time in the world to come to terms with it... Scar is going to hate that he didn't get to meet you.

Loop #37

Scar: ....soooo what you up to?

Grian: Memorising these terms Anakin gave us.

Scar: Ooh sounds...fun!

Grian: Every loop has an anchor, without it the loop can't exist. I tought I was the anchor but it's not possible because I was sent to a different loop last tims.

Scar: So am I the anchor?

Grian: You were missing for the first loops Scar... the only option that makes sense is that both of us are anchors. But even then...

Grian underlines the term "co-anchors" a bunch of times.

Scar: Does that mean I'll get to meet Anakin Skywalker?

Grian: Probably? One day?

Scar: Wooooho!

Loop #38

They were waiting for the moon to crash when Scar posed the question.

Scar: Do you think we can just... stop the moon?

Grian: Hmmm... I guess I never tought about it, why?

Scar: I don't know, just thinking.

Grian: I have an idea...

Loop #43

Scar: Grian what are you doing?

Grian: You remember how last loop started in s7?

Scar: ... Yeah?

Grian: I decided to keep something in my pocket this time around.

Grian took out a golden gauntlet with 6 colored glowing stones.

Scar: ... The button?

Grian: The button.

Grian snapped and the moon disappeared.. He then carefully removed and pocketed it again.

Grian: Well, I'm surprised it actually...worked...

Scar: But what happened to it?

Grian: I just made it really really small.

Loop #51

This was unbearable, Grian tought it was weird when this loops Timmy was acting like an incapable child, then he became worried when he saw that Scott was a pacifist who wouldn't hurt a fly, and then Cleo started burning down literally everything and he started to question his life choices. Everyone was barely themselves, it was like they had been replaced by very cheap imitations.

(Poor Grian had to walk into fanonland)

Loop #67

Scott Smajor liked to think he was often in control of the situation. Not many people liked that about him but if he died it was by his decision.

He didn't feel very in control at the moment, back in the Last Life with Grian and Scar being completely different from what he remembered them being... And he didn't like it one bit.

Scott: Ok ok, stop it!

Grian: What do you mean? We aren't doing anything wrong!

Scott: It isn't right! You are supposed to be in a team with Jimmy and Martyn and you Scar should be alone on a mountain!

Scar: ...

Grian: ...

Scott: ... Sorry that was-

Grian: You remember too?

Scar: New looper! New looper!

Scott: ...uh?

Prev Next

#trafficblr #hermitblr #traffic smp #hermitcraft #grian #goodtimeswithscar #scott smajor #looped sun au

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justmediocrewriting · 9 months

Note

Okay hear me out! Koby x pirate reader? I mean, he's so sweet! So imagine how would him react to being in love with a pirate reader

Omg thank you so much for your request sweetheart! Never really wrote for Koby, but I am excited to do so! He’s such a sweetie, I love him so much 💕💕 I’m not sure why I never really thought to write for him before, and writing this was such a pleasure, so I really appreciate your suggestion of this.

I wasn’t sure about gender specifics or which format you wanted (headcanon or blurb), so I did both and kept the terms gender neutral! I really hope this is kind of what you’re looking for dear ❤️

Headcanons ❤️

Your first meeting is one that I commonly like to dub as the ‘marine/pirate love story trope’: the one in which you are captured by Marines.

Koby isn’t the one to officially arrest you — that honor belongs to a one Monkey D. Garp, who was more than frustrated at the disruption your capture posed to his goal, which was to apprehend his grandson; but a pirate is a pirate, and all needed to see justice, so when Garp’s ship intercepted yours he did his duty to curb your devious activities.

Koby was, however, tasked with the assignment of keeping watch over your cell in the brig, and truthfully, you couldn’t have been more delighted by it.

The timid bespectacled man had quickly caught your attention the moment you were loaded onto the deck; and by the way his eyes lingered on yours for longer than what was appropriate, you knew you’d captured his as well.

Conversation didn’t come easily at first, not at any fault of your own; despite Koby’s clear interest displayed on the deck, he was hesitant to engage in any sort of talk with you, no matter how much you coaxed or teased him.

It wasn’t until hours later that you two had any semblance of a conversation, and after getting over his initial hesitation, words and stories flowed freely and easily between you

Koby found himself deeply entranced by your sharp wit and buttery tongue, and was heavily flustered by every compliment and sultry sentence you sent his way. It wasn’t something he was accustomed to, especially not from a pirate, but what bothered Koby most wasn’t necessarily that you were a pirate, but that he was enjoying the attention from a pirate. Koby had closed down a bit after that, but you already had him around your finger, whether you knew it or not, and Koby was unable to resist the temptation to know you more and hear your voice.

Feelings spiraled quickly on both ends; you were so intoxicated by Koby’s bashful reactions to your attention, so entranced by the way his soft features colored so prettily when you’d offer him a compliment or a sultry tease — but the more you got to know him, the more you realized it wasn’t just mindless physical attraction; you liked Koby for Koby, for his admirable dedication to his own dream, for his ideology, for his soft spoken mannerisms, for the way he looked at you with those eyes — eyes that said he shared the exact same depth of feeling as you did.

It was so fast that it nearly caused you whiplash; but Koby was even more affected. Never in his life had he had the opportunity to feel anything other than fear or loathing, and emotions such as love or desire were completely foreign to him — it was even more confusing and irritating for him as you two stood on opposite sides of the law.

In total, you were kept in the brig for three and a half days; and over those three and a half days, you and Koby grew close. He was tasked with guarding your cell more often than not, and to your surprise, not only did Koby spill his entire backstory to you, but you did the same to him. It was something you’d never revealed to anyone, not even your own crew mates, so the fact that you shared it with Koby, who was a Marine, was so baffling and frankly disturbing to you; but the way Koby’s eyes glittered as he paid rapt attention to every word you spoke, as if he were desperate to drink in every single detail about you, made those ill feelings trickle away quickly.

By the time you were to face your sentencing (by now you’d already accepted the fact that you were more than likely going to face justice by means of beheading or a life in Impel Down, though it wasn’t the idea of losing your own life that hurt you, but rather the idea of never being able to speak or see Koby again), Koby was already smitten, and unbeknownst to you, he was already determined to commit mutiny.

Koby was the one assigned to drag you from the brig to the Marine headquarters, but soon as your feet hit solid ground, Koby glanced around nervously and then quickly unshackled your cuffs when he noticed you two were alone. You were completely baffled.

“Punch me.” Koby demanded, and all you could do was gawk at him and then sputter out a single consonant sound in reply.

“Just do it, fast. Punch me and run.” Koby urged again, nerves racking up with every second that passed. You licked your lips as your heart fluttered in your chest. You knew the risk Koby was taking for you, and it made your heart clench painfully.

“You could get in a lot of trouble.” You whispered back, and Koby simply shook his head.

“I don’t care about that right now. I just want you to run. You’re one of the good ones, I can tell.” Koby said sincerely, and the way his crystal blues bore into your eyes made your entire being shake.

You truly couldn’t believe what you were experiencing. You’d encountered many marines, hell, you’d been captured and escaped many times before, but never once had a marine let you escape; and Koby was throwing himself into the fire just so you could have your freedom.

Knowing the risk for Koby and feeling extreme trepidation, but also knowing that escape would mean a chance to see Koby again, and filled with so much gratitude and pure feeling for Koby, you did something you never thought you’d ever do; you grabbed the man by the shoulders and planted your lips firmly on his.

Koby was so stunned that he didn’t respond to the sudden kiss, and just when he was about to you pulled away and nodded at him before wrenching your hand back and clocking him in the jaw.

“I’ll see you again, Koby.” You promised as you darted away, fading away into the distance without looking back; you knew that if you did, you’d run back to the man behind you.

Blurb ❤️

It had been three months since Koby’s last encounter with you; and he swore that he could still feel the phantom pain of your strike and the pleasant tingle of your lips against his.

Every day Koby held your parting words close to his heart, hoping beyond hope that he’d see you again, but as the days turned to weeks turned to months, he began to lose that spark — it will still dimly glowing within his chest, but it was dimmed exponentially.

Koby was fairly useless ever since your ‘escape’; his mind was always plagued with you, with your voice, with your lips, with your laugh, with everything about you. It was irritating and slightly depressing for him, how smitten he was with you. He couldn’t entirely understand it — not only was it something completely new and foreign to him, feeling this depth of emotion, but it was for someone he’d barely known for three days, who was a pirate on top of all that; his sworn enemy, the same enemy he’d promised to capture and bring to justice.

Koby had never even considered mutiny before; not even in the case of Luffy. Though Luffy was a dear friend and an inspiration to Koby, Koby had steeled it within himself that should he meet with Luffy, he would apprehend him the same as any other pirate, and he wouldn’t dare to let him escape.

Yet he let you.

It was very frustrating, and all these emotions within Koby caused him to lose his focus. Garp barked at him many a time to focus on training, but Koby just couldn’t. Even Helmeppo had asked him what the hell was up, if he still felt guilty about royally screwing up on his first ever escort mission, but there was no way Koby could ever tell anyone the truth.

How do you tell your entire branch and admiral that you’re in love with a pirate, and you let that pirate escape, and even held a useless hope to actually see that pirate again?

Yeah, he couldn’t do that. Not in a million years.

On the third day of the fourth month of your absence, Koby laid his head down with the conviction that he’d never see you again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound was rapping but light, quiet but loud enough to cause Koby to stir to consciousness beneath his covers.

Koby reached blindly for his glasses as the tapping became more insistent, and when he finally slid them on and glanced in the direction of the noise, his heart leapt into his throat.

There, perched on the window sill of his window, was you, smiling widely and waving.

Koby threw his covers off and nearly toppled out of bed in his hurry to reach the window. With a grunt he wrenched open the pane and gawked at you.

“Heya, sweetcheeks.” You cooed, absolutely adoring the dazed smile he sent you as his cheeks colored. You wanted desperately to reach forward and bring him into your arms; except there was one problem, and that was that you were still perched on the window sill.

With little to no subtlety you clambered through the window, and Koby sputtered beside you as you did so. His gentle, dazzling smile was wiped from his face and was now replaced by a grimace of panic.

“What are you doing here?” He whisper-yelled, and you simply shrugged and smiled at him.

“I said I would see you again, sweetheart.” You said casually, and Koby glanced around the room warily, as if it any moment another marine would pop out and catch you.

“No, I know, it’s just — how did you know where to find me?”

“I have my ways.” You said, none-too-mysteriously, and Koby resisted the urge to shiver at the implication; he should he freaked out by that, but honestly, he was too overcome with happiness at seeing you again to even consider being freaked out.

Koby fell silent and appraised you; your form was hard to make out in the pale moonlight that filtered through the window, but you were still just as breathtaking as Koby remembered. Still as sultry and mouthwatering, too. The reality of where exactly you were, in his room, with him, alone, hit him like a ton of bricks, and his cheeks flushed deeply. You couldn’t help the grin that pulled your lips at the sight.

“I know it’s a bit unconventional and even risky, but I don’t like not seeing you, Koby.” You said honestly, and the way Koby’s flush deepened even further fueled your ever-present adoration for the boy. Stepping close, you wrapped your hands around his wrists and brought them to your torso. Koby’s breath hitched as you leaned closer, until your lips were mere centimeters apart. Shivers ran up Koby’s spine as you whispered against his lips, your breath tickling the sensitive skin.

“Let’s see each other more, yeah?”

MOAR HEADCANONS (because I can) ❤️

After the first night of sneaking into Koby’s room, it became a bit of a habit. The times and days varied, and sometimes you would go weeks without appearing at his window (those were the hardest times for Koby, but he understood the two completely different lives you lead). It was a little rocky at first as Koby was still unsettled by your status as a pirate, but over time he grew to accept it.

For a long time Koby kept your relationship secret; he knew the dangers of ever revealing it to anyone — it was dangerous for the both of you, and could lead to a death sentence. But Helmeppo, ever observant, noticed the change in Koby’s demeanor immediately, and after months of being pestered by the blonde, Koby finally admitted to your relationship.

Koby immediately regretted it; he just knew that Helmeppo would talk, and that your lives would be over. But Helmeppo didn’t. Instead, he clapped Koby on the shoulder and said simply,

“Good catch.”

From then on Helmeppo kept the secret; he even aided in your secret meetings with Koby, which made things exponentially easier for the both of you. The amount of time you could spend together grew, and before you knew it, you were both completely tied together.

Damn right there’s been many times you’ve tried to scoop Koby away into the life at sea.

And damn right Koby many times tried to coax you to be a Marine just like him.

But neither of you would budge, and within time just became accepting of each others life choices; Koby protected you at all costs, and kept you hidden from the marines. He would never let any harm come to you. That he promised.

The idea to label his love for you as mutiny never crossed his mind; in reality, he felt love could never be a crime, even between a pirate and a marine.

By the time Koby rose through the ranks and became an admiral himself, your relationship had grown so deeply that neither of you could stand the thought of ever being separated and it killed the both of you inside. So what did you do?

You made sure to get captured by his ship at every possible opportunity.

It became quite a thorn in his side, especially when he would have to explain to the higher ups how you somehow ‘managed to escape time and time again.’

No one ever truly caught on, much to your surprise. However, your bounty did raise a few million Berry every time, and the amount of bounty hunters you had to fight off was insane.

But it was totally worth it to have Koby get protective over you ❤️ and the way he would blush when you teased him about it was the best!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I just want to say thank you again for your request anon ❤️ this was such a pleasure to write! Ngl I wanted to add some steamy parts in there, but since it wasn’t specified in the request I held back! If that’s something you would like to see, please lemme know!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

#opla x reader #opla x you #opla koby #opla koby x reader #op koby #one piece

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