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selene-ella · 3 months

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"Relics of the Past"

Pair: Qimir×female!reader

Summary: you shared the beginning of your journey with him. You were his ride or die, until life choices separated you. He remained to walk on the dark and you walked the middle one.

Warnings: improper use of the force, allusions to intimacy and nudity

Notes: English is not my first language and this is the first piece of fanfiction I ever posted so enjoy!

Part II , Part III , Part VI(final)

The memories of him lingered, impossible to forget. How could you? Pain and shared experiences had etched themselves into your very being. Days like this, when your quest led you to relics of the past, resurrected those feelings.

You stood before a collection of artifacts from the Old Republic era: ancient manuscripts, data holocrons, and one peculiar item. The scavenger, a dubious character with a knack for extracting credits, eyed you as you assessed the treasures.

“How much for all of them?” you demanded, your voice firm.

He scratched his chin, feigning uncertainty. “These, uh... how do you say in your language.. ah, rare items—5000 credits.”

His lack of credibility amused you. “5000 credits for some scrolls and dust covered metals!?"

“Business is business,” he replied, undeterred. “For you, 4500. Final offer.”

You take a look again at all of them, trying to figure out which one could bring you the most use. "What about that one?” you asked, pointing.

"Ha, that one... ehh it's useless. It doesn't work. Not turning on, ehh...broken I think yeah." He said while slamming the metal piece on the counter.

"I'll give you 300 credits for it" you make your offer.

He hesitates to give a response.

“Well, you did call it useless. So 300 is my last offer" you tapped your fingers on the counter.

" Fine, 300. But don’t blame me if it’s a scam.”

As he turned away to collect your payment, you deftly concealed one of the scrolls in your robes. “I’m in a hurry,” you quipped. “Consider it payment for the entertainment.”

With a chuckle, you left the alien scavenger behind, happy with your purchases.

Back aboard your ship, you left both acquisitions on a small table before heading to the cockpit. The coordinates punched in, you exited the planet’s atmosphere and slipped into hyperspace. Your attention returned to the two objects—the old scroll and the secrets it held.

Years ago, you and Qimir had scoured the galaxy for these ancient Sith relics. Clues were scarce, hidden and those who knew bout them were either dead or hiding. Some relics had been seized by the Jedi Council, while others lay buried in forgotten temples on distant, obscure planets.

As you scanned the inscriptions on the aged paper, your ship’s autopilot guided you to your destination. You stowed the relics in a small leather pouch next to your lightsabers—the familiar weight of purpose and history.

The place hadn’t changed: the cool ocean breeze, the salty tang of water mingling with damp soil. You navigated the rocky shore, wondering if Qimir’s hideout remained where it once was. The air was fresh, and the memories fresher still.

Then, the unmistakable hum of a lightsaber reached your ears. You followed the sound, drawn inexorably toward the lone figure training on the cliffside. Qimir. It had been four, maybe five years since you last saw him.

The wind whipped your hair and robes into a trail behind you as you approached. But you got too close—dangerously close. His blade materialized inches from your face, and you instinctively parried with your armored forearm.

“Still wearing the armor?” he quipped, lowering the hilt of his lightsaber.

“It hits pretty hard when you want to smack a nasty bounty hunter,” you retorted.

“Still a scavenger, I see,” he remarked, stepping back.

“Part-time relics collector,” you corrected.

“Well collector, care to join me in a fight? Or are you too scarred you’ve lost your spark?” he asked.

You drew your saber, assuming a battle stance. “Who? Me? The only thing here without a spark is your lightsaber.”

The clash began—a dance of blades. His malfunctioning weapon met your cortosis armor, and the Force became your ally. “Who’s out of spark now?” you taunted.

His red blade regained its power and answered with a powerful strike. You fought fiercely, but perhaps you’d lost some edge over the years. Cornered between rocks, you pushed him back with the Force, then drew your second saber. Three blades intersected dangerously close to his neck.

“That wasn’t fair,” he grumbled, lying on the rocky ground.

“Maybe I had an advantage” You extended your hand. “And since when are you interested in fairness?”

He accepted your help, rising to his feet. “You could have killed me.”

“I know you,” you replied. “That would be impossible.”

His eyes lingered on your white-bladed lightsabers. “Our ways are far apart.”

You remained silent, watching him shove some belongings back into his bag.

He turned away, but you caught up.

“What brings you here after all this time?” His back remained stubbornly turned.

“This!” You pulled out the scroll—the relic you’d taken from the scavenger.

“What’s that?” Curiosity laced his voice.

“We searched for it years ago. One of the Sith relics—supposed to unlock more pathways to the dark side of the Force.”

Your gaze is still fixed on the relic. “I had no time to decipher it.”

Qimir’s eyes bore into yours. “Where did you find it?”

You stepped closer, examining the ancient parchment once more. “Some outer rim trash heap of a planet. A peculiar character peddling these items as pricey rarities.”

“Why did you get it?” His question cut through the air, sharp and direct.

You hesitated. The dark side no longer held sway over you; you’d broken free from its grip. Now, you considered yourself an unaligned Force user—no allegiances, no rules except your own. “I got a good price for them,” you replied, evading the truth.

He hummed, placing the scroll among his scattered belongings. You turned away, drawn to the artifacts and tiny objects he seems to have collected as well.

As you stood there, the scroll nestled among Qimir’s belongings, he traced its edges with his finger. The Force whispered secrets to him—the ancient ink, the forgotten symbols. But deeper still, he sensed your presence, your return.

"Why had you sought out this relic? Was it merely about obtaining a good price, or did it carry another purpose?" Qimir’s mind spun possibilities. Perhaps you wanted to reconnect—with him, with memories long buried beneath the weight of time and choices.

He turned toward you, eyes narrowing as if seeking answers in your expression. But you remained elusive, your intentions veiled. The old companion who had once walked the precipice now stood before him, and the scroll held more than its cryptic inscriptions—it held the promise of something unfinished.

"It- ...we spent a lot of resources and energy trying to get at least one of them back then. I figured it would be of use to you still"

"How’s your power?” Qimir asked, accentuating the last word.

“Of pretty good use for what I do,” you replied, setting down the small metal cup you were holding. “Getting into people’s heads was never easier.”

He stepped closer, the air charged with tension. “That… or…”

“Or?” you prompted, your pulse quickening.

“No one is presenting a challenge to you?” he continued.

“Not gonna do it,” you answered firmly.

“Why?” He moved past you, taking a seat on his bed.

“You were always asking me to get into your head for all the wrong reasons,” you said, sadness tingeing your tone.

“I wanted to test my strength,” he replied nonchalantly, chewing on some fruits placed on a near table.

“You were torturing yourself, Qimir,” you whispered.

“Oh maker, you’ve gotten even softer than when you left me,” he laughed.

Your anger flared. “And you remained the same—stuck deep in your pain and past!” Silence followed, heavy as the memories that bound you.

“You’ve never offered me a real chance to test my abilities,” you continued. “It was all for your gain—to access your deepest emotions and use them to harness the power of the dark side.”

Yes, you had softened. In your eyes, conquering your past, pain, and fears meant no longer tethering yourself to the dark side. It didn’t weaken you; it set you free.

“Don’t try to turn this against me,” he retorted. “If I was such a menace, I wouldn’t have let you go.”

You closed the gap, your hand finding its way to his face, brushing strands of hair behind his ear. He leaned into your touch, arms encircling your waist.

He looked up at you. “So… not even once? For the good old times?”

Your fingers traced down to his temple, cheek, and partially rested on his parted lips. “This looks like another win for you.”

His voice was muffled by your hand. “But you won against me earlier.”

“You can’t remember your past?”

“It’s more exciting when you’re involved.” His hands slipped past your robes, finding the small patch of skin you’d exposed on your back.

He used to ask you to slip into his mind, amplifying whatever he felt tenfold. It helped him connect with raw emotions and harness the Force’s power—a skill that cost you your Jedi Knight title and led to your expulsion from the order.

“It depends on how it’s used,” you murmured. “Bright corners of the mind, holding our light, peacful emotions or the corners of the datkest and deepest desires.”

“I knew you’d do it,” he exhaled, your hand supporting his neck. You glimpsed recent memories: fights, betrayal, murder, his apprentice.

He was annoyed. “You’ve found someone eager to learn your ways, I see.”

“Useless,” he scoffed. “Betrayed me and then ran away.” Your pulse raced.

He longed for someone to learn from him, to face their deepest darkness. It had started with you, but you were different—an equal, not an apprentice.

He removed your robe, pooling it at your feet. “Why so much clothing?”

“It’s windy on Arvala-7. Sand gets everywhere.” He remained silent.

You gently pushed him back onto the bed. In moments like these, you held the upper hand—the only person he felt safe surrendering to.

“Shall I continue, then?” Your lips hovered inches from his.

“Please,” he breathed.

You delved past surface emotions. He felt lonely, lost. His apprentice was just a tool.

The Force pulsed between you, a current of memories and unspoken longing. You had held back, wary of what lay beneath your calm demeanor. But Qimir sensed it all—your hesitations, your buried desires. Your minds were entwined, bound by shared history and unfinished business.

Breaking the kiss, he studied your face. “Still afraid?” His voice held a mix of challenge and invitation.

He was right. You feared the floodgates—the rush of emotions that threatened to drown you both. Yet, here you were, drawn to him after all this time.

His scarred skin cradled your touch as your fingers slipped fully under his shirt. The fabric yielded, revealing the contours of muscle and vulnerability. His breath hitched, and you felt the tremor—the awakening of dormant feelings.

“No need to hide from me,” he murmured against your lips. “Let yourself go.”

And in that moment, you surrendered—to the Force, to him, to the memories that surged forth. Desires resurfaced, amplified by the connection you shared. The past and present collided, and you wondered if this reunion was salvation or damnation.

But there was no turning back. Not when his lips met yours once more, hungry and insistent, and the Force whispered promises of both ecstasy and reckoning.

You used to do this in the past, whenever he felt lonely. It sometimes translated to real intimate connection, but the feelings behind it were never spoken about.

His room's stone walls whispered secrets, and the air hung heavy with memories. Qimir's lips tasted of insight—a blend of determination and vulnerability—as they met yours. The kiss was a collision of past and present, a bridge between your minds.

His arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer. The texture of his scarred back against your fingertips was both rugged and tender. His breath hitched, and you felt the tremor—the awakening of dormant feelings.

"Still afraid of what might lay underneath your calm demeanor?" he murmured, lips brushing yours.

You leaned into him, your heart echoing the rhythm of shared history. "Maybe I'm afraid of what it means," you confessed, your voice a fragile thread."

His thumb traced the curve of your jaw, mapping each part of it. "We were bound," he said, his gaze intense. "By choices."

"Choices," you agreed, your pulse racing. "Only choices?"

His kiss deepened, and the Force surged—a tempest of desire and danger. You shifted, aligning your bodies—the electric tension pulling you together. His heartbeat synced with yours, and you wondered if this reunion was salvation or damnation.

His other hand slid up your spine, fingers tangling in your hair. "Fate's pull," he whispered against your mouth. "We're suspended between past and present."

You surrendered—to the taste of insight, the touch of connection. His lips, like whispered secrets, traced forgotten paths across your skin. “What do you want?” he asked, voice rough yet tender.

"Answers," you replied, your arms winding around his neck. "Redemption."

His lips found your pulse point, and you gasped. "And me?" he murmured, teeth grazing your skin.

"You," you confessed, "after all these years, I find myself back here."

Qimir pulled you into his lap, the weight of unshared words settling between you. “So it is me,” he mused. “Who would travel all this way for an old piece of paper?”

Your head rested on his shoulder, mind racing. You didn’t need much to understand your purpose—the pull of fate was undeniable. “I oftentimes regret leaving you,” you whispered, “but these years served me well. I have my own path now.”

He inhaled your scent, fingers digging into your lower back, drawing you impossibly closer. Vulnerability had always been his armor, but this moment held a different kind of surrender.

“I searched for you,” he exhaled, “in those I sought to mold into my pupils. Yet, you eluded me.”

“You looked for the wrong kind of companions,” you murmured, brushing your lips against his. “Maybe.”

He cupped your face, eyes intense. “Are you leaving soon?”

“No,” you said, examining the cut on his forearm. “By the looks of it, you’ve tangled with something significant. I’ll stay—for a while.” Your smile held promises of healing, and new shared battles.

#qimir #qimir x reader #qimir x you #the stranger x reader #the acolyte fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #the acolyte x reader

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latimeria-fell-from-heaven · 1 year

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⌗︙・⚠︎ obsessed blade being an utter sadomasochist when it comes to you ⚠︎ ♡⸝⸝

Blade knows you. He knows everything about you—Blade knows everything about what makes you human. He knows what you love, he knows what you dread.

Blade knows that you're the only person who could possibly get his adrenaline pumping in ways he hasn't felt in all of those long, dreadful years of his immortality. Never have you once shown him an ounce of fear during each of your intense battles, eyes piercing into him as you parry his attacks, formulating ways to land a hit on him. Even if he'd managed to overpower you, his body pinning you down as he pants hungrily in excitement and exhaustion, you'd still find a way to headbutt, punch, or kick him away.

It's why he always looks forward to fighting you whenever he's sent away on a mission, barely able to contain the excitement of both inflicting pain upon you and having you inflict pain on him.

He ignores the teasing from Kafka and Silver Wolf, the likes of whom are well aware of just how deep his obsession for you truly runs. But it's not like they can do much to stop him, since he's disgustingly stubborn in his ways, and trying to get him to stop obsessing over you would just be a pointless endeavor. At the very least, there are times when Elios' script does not require the swordsman, though Blade makes his frustration of not being able to see you very obvious.

Blade makes it very clear to the other Stellaron Hunters that he doesn't want any of them to engage in any sort of combat with you. Your fighting prowess is reserved for him and him alone. Those warnings are mostly directed to Kafka since Blade knows that she'd toy around with you for a bit just to mess with him. And in Blade's mind, his rules apply to you as well; you aren't allowed to fight anybody else other than him. If you take aim for Kafka or Silver Wolf, Blade is right there, parrying each and every one of your attacks. You originally thought he was just simply providing time for his accomplices to escape or formulate an attack plan, but he proves you wrong.

He only has it out for you, ignoring your fellow Trailblazers aiming hits at whoever is accompanying him in favor of pouring each ounce of his focus on you. When your companions attempt to distract him with an attack of their own, all he does is kick away your companions, barely sparing them so much as a glance. It's so blatantly obvious to everyone in the vicinity, even becoming a bit of a joke (a rather dark one) that you dryly chuckle about.

Blade's temperament blooms like a hellish flower, corrupt roots digging under his skin and sapping away at his patience when he watches you in secret. He can see the way you interact with your fellow Trailblazers, particularly Dan Heng. How you so openly douse that pathetic little bastard in waves of affection, presenting him with warm smiles and cheerful embraces that have that sniveling coward freeze up. No, he is not jealous, not one bit. His blistering anger bleeds into his strength, and when he faces off against you once more, he does not allow you any breathing room as he mercilessly lands hit after hit on you. To make you feel even a snippet of the pain that you have so unknowingly brought upon him gives Blade a shuddering thrill.

And yet Blade truly does not want to kill you, to snuff out your life and be done with this twisting obsession. He once thought about it—he'd thought it over multiple times inside his broken mind—but found that even thinking about it made a coil of unease squeeze deep inside of him--it felt painful. He's much more willing to drag out these skirmishes, to relish in the feeling of his hands wrapped around your throat, and your weapon just moments away from cutting his throat open.

When Blade feels the oh-so-familiar sting of his flesh having been sliced open by your weapon, a hot pulse of arousal squeezes in his crotch.

"Ah--" It takes a bit too much restraint to swallow up the rest of the satisfied moan that nearly escapes the wide grin spread across his lips. Blade briefly almost humors the sinful thought of letting loose that perverse noise, to see what kind of reaction he could pull from you. It wouldn't matter if your expression would be blank or if you'd given him the most disgusted look you could muster. He'd do anything to get any sort of possible reaction from you.

Though it seems that he doesn't need to bother, as you clearly heard his little slip-up and gave him a look that was clearly saying Really? Did you really just do that? It doesn't matter to him that you're probably misunderstanding why he just nearly moaned, so long as your attention is on him, then he could care less if you think of him as a pervert.

"You're a real piece of work, y'know that?" A sarcastic half grin forms on your lips, though your mood is anything but amused. You grunt as he brutishly swings his sword a little too close to your face, just barely nicking at your skin. "Bet that's why ya keep tryna fight me all the time huh?"

Blade scoffs, though the smoldering excitement in his eyes gives away just how fucking excited he truly is. "What's it to you? If you got a damn problem," he heaves as you land a booming kick to his hip, forcing him to skid away, "Then keep it to yourself."

"Yeah I got a damn problem, you freak." Oh yeah, call the guy who's currently trying to tear you into fucking pieces a freak. That'll help you beat his ass and successfully retreat back to the safety of the Astral Express. Seriously, if he wanted to get his rocks off just because of a fight, he could've fought anybody else and been done with it. It feels pretty icky knowing that this guy was a deranged pervert who got off from getting the crap beat outta him.

And now you're stuck fighting him. Great. The universe must truly savor your suffering.

Over and over the pattern is repeated—you land a hit on Blade, he kicks you away, he shoves his entire weight against you, lands a hit on you, and vice-versa. His sword doesn't cut you deep enough to be fatal, but the open wounds still fester with your blood. Blade isn't looking much better either, a single harsh bruise upon his cheek where you'd punched him before. His clothes are ripped in various places, his blood staining the cloth. His wounds are healing though, no thanks to that stupid self-healing ability of his. But it's clear that you're still wearing each other down rather significantly, though Blade seems to be recovering his strength bit by bit.

"Fuck, you asshole.." You cough, attempting to keep your body steady despite the throbbing aches all over. If this keeps up, you'll be too exhausted to even block an attack and if that happens you'll—

Just vaguely, you can hear your name being called. A familiar voice, though tinted with a touch of anxiety, is nonetheless filled with concern. It breaks your concentration from the fight, and even if your entire body is screaming from pain and exhaustion, you strangely find it in yourself to smile in relief as you call out his name.

"Da-.."

There is a sudden sharp pressure against your neck, and your vision suddenly spins as the ground seemingly disappears beneath your feet. You feel yourself flying. You can barely even think before thundering pain violently assaults your head and spreads to your back and the pressure around your neck tightens. All you can feel is pain, a newly born headache pounding at the back of your head, and your limbs too heavy to move. It isn't until Blade ducks his face down uncomfortably close to yours that you realize what has happened.

He fucking slammed you against the ground. That flighty sensation you'd felt was just him lifting you up by your throat and then slamming you back down. You stupidly let down your guard and now you barely have the strength to even breathe. Blade watches you, now akin to prey caught by the hunter.

He looks excited.

"He can't save you," he hisses. His smile is like a crescent moon. "None of them can. I could kill you right now and they can't do anything about it. Your final moments could be all mine."

To prove his point, he digs his fingers into your skin, readying to crush your windpipe. Dry wheezes and gasps escape your mouth, and even despite all the pain, you struggle fervently. You are scared, yes, but more than anything, you are angry. If you wanted to die in a fight, you rather die at someone else's hands rather than the bastard above you.

He chuckles, a dreadful sound that pierces your ears. "That's it, keep looking at me like that. Show me everything of yours, (name)--your hatred, your fear, your pain, everything." His grip loosens and you hold in every urge to vomit. You feel sick, sicker than you have ever felt in your entire life.

"Quit... quit talking like you know me or some shit.." You angrily wheeze out. A thick metallic taste spreads on your tongue. Shit, a concussion is the least of your worries now if you're suffering from internal bleeding.

"Oh, but I do know you. I know everything about you (name)," Blade is no longer human to you now. He is a monster, a monster that is enjoying the torment that he assaults you with. "I know what you love. I know what you dread."

The hand around your throat withdraws swiftly, but you can't even try and make a move before your face is cupped, almost tenderly. With your head in place, all you can see, feel, and hear are Blade. He overloads your senses with him. Forcing you closer to him, you realize that he's going to kill you and squirm. He wants you to look him in the eyes as you die—

"I know everything about what makes you human."

Blade kisses you. He doesn't kill you. Blade kisses you, the taste of cigarettes and blood filling your mouth as he hungrily devours your lips. He doesn't kill you, because he loves you so much that he hates you for rendering him into such a love-stricken fool.

#lati thirsts #tw yandere #honkai star rail x reader #blade x reader #hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere blade #yandere blade x reader #lmao if someone gets the reference at the beginning i will smooch you

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eydi-andrius · 8 months

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Sore Loser (Love and Deepspace Characters x F!Reader)

Synopsis: After a very shitty day, you thought playing Kitty Cards with him will make your day better.

A/N: Girl, I hate this damn game. Lmaoooooo!

🗡️ Xavier 🗡️

Xavier didn't mean anything from it. He was just playing by the rules of the game, using his advance cards to parry and block your attempt to stop him from freezing your turn, four times by now. He was so focused on the game that he did not notice how your face became harder, and your eyes stared coldly at the board, now filled mostly with Xavier’s number cards. His kitties were cheering for him, and you watched helplessly as your kitties cried from defeat.

“That was a good game.” Xavier smiled to himself, as he saw how the game ended beautifully for him. He saved up as many good advance cards and used them at the right moment. He was so proud of himself and he can't wait to see your face. You usually analyze how he won, and take notes of what you did wrong. However, when he looked up, his joyous face turned down, and his heartbeat quickened when he saw how cold and mad you were. Your anger wasn't directed at him, instead, you were staring at the board coldly. But he knew at that time, he fucked up.

“I’m tired of this stupid game.” The chair scraped the floor, as you stood up so fast and grabbed your coat, placed atop the top rail.

“Hey wait!” He tried to stop you from walking out but he accidentally bumped into the board, almost toppling the cups and kitties over. In panic, he tried to support the wobbling table, and sighed with relief when it stopped shaking. He tried to find you afterwards, but he lost sight of you.

It has been two days, and as his partner hunter, it shouldn't be impossible for you to meet, but you must have been so mad because whenever he asks of you, you decline his calls and only reply in messages as promptly and professionally as an HR. He tried looking for you on your table, but most of the time, you were out or doing something else, whenever he came over. He was about to give up apologizing and accept his fate that he pissed you off at a game, so bad, you decided to cut him off, when Jenna ordered all the alpha team to meet at the unicorns headquarters for a debrief.

And he was right, you were there, but you were sitting in between two hunters he knew nothing about. He wasn't listening at all, he can always check on the information later, but he was afraid that if you manage to sneak out again this time, your relationship will fall apart and he doesn't like the sound of it, even when it wasn't going to happen because he will make sure of it.

“Let’s talk.” Before you can even stand up from where you were sitting, Xavier immediately moves over in front of you, calling your attention in front of the other hunters, making you unable to turn him down.

“Sorry. I should have known you were playing to enjoy that day. I didn't mean to make you mad. I will make sure to be more sensitive in the future about your needs. I know I can be slow at times, sometimes emotionless, but I don't want to repeat the same mistake and lose your company over a silly game.” Xavier started right after the door closed, leaving the two of you alone together. He looks tired. There were visible dark bags right under his eyes. He must have been torturing himself after you gave him the cold shoulder.

You feel silly now. You were not mad at Xavier for winning. It was just a shitty day and you were just looking forward to having a good day and resting with Xavier at your side, when it seems like even the Kitty Cards were against you. Xavier keeps on getting good cards, and you keep getting the most useless advance and number cards. You sighed and closed your eyes. You shouldn't have run away from him. Now, you made it worse and made him feel like he should tiptoe around your mood, instead of enjoying each other's company in your free time.

“Please, don't. It wasn't like that. I was just annoyed about my day at that time and losing was the final straw for me. I’m sorry that I made you feel like that for days. But I wasn't sure how to confront you, especially when I was just acting like a sore loser. Have you not been sleeping well? You have a bag under your eyes.” Worried, you cupped his cheek and moved his face closer to yours, inspecting and noticing how his face looks paler, dry, and tired.

Instead of saying anything, he hums at your touch, and he moves forward, resting his head on your lap.

“Let me take a little sleep. I miss you.” He said before dozing off, and you stroked his hair while he slept.

❄️ Zayne ❄️

Zayne is bad at playing the Kitty Cards game. Due to his fatigue, sometimes he mistook some colors as the same, making his turn score nothing. But today was a bit different. Zayne keeps on winning, and he keeps on using advanced cards that will be fatal on your turn. He steals your advance cards, takes away your good number cards, and freezes your turn. Meanwhile, you keep on getting advanced cards that mean nothing when you have no good cards at hand.

“I win again, huh.” It was obvious that Zayne didn't mean anything from that, other than him wondering why he won again. But maybe you're already at your limit and hearing that made you snap.

“Well good for you. I’m going home.” It was all you have told him before you left him dumbfounded on his seat, leaving him alone at the cafe.

Whatever you did back there was just embarrassing. It was just a game but you took it personally. You're not going to wonder if Zayne refuses to talk to you now, other than being your physician, after that embarrassing display of attitude when you lose. You're not even sure how you're going to talk to him today.

It's your physical exam and it's been two days since you always kept him on read or only replies with emoji. You have to toughen up and apologize. Zayne did not deserve being treated that way.

Upon opening the door to his office, you breathed in, swallowing all the courage you needed. You walked towards the chair and sat in front of him. He was busy typing whatever on his computer, but you know, he already glimpsed on your way, because you felt his heavy stare for a second, before it went back to his task at hand. It didn't take long when he finished and stared you down. It was so awkward and it was at this moment, where you wished to be swallowed down by the earth and be gone. You gulped and opened your mouth to apologize when he started talking first.

“You didn't tell me you were injured that day.” You shivered at the icy tone in his voice. Just like his evol, Zayne can also be cold and scary. He didn't even need for you to emphasize on what he just said, because you already knew what he was talking about. A wanderer caught you off guard hours before meeting Zayne and it scratched your arm. The wound is not that deep, and you already put first aid on it so you never thought about it much, until the small wound did not heal as fast, and almost gave you a fever when it deepens. You realize now that it was the guilt of keeping you're injured to Zayne, and also, being a sore loser from the pain.

“It was very small. I don't want to bother you on your day off so….I kept it.” You squeak, when he glared at you, for being nonchalant about it.

“I don't care if it was my day off. It was my duty to take care of you. I hate it when you lie to me about being fine, when you know too well I can help you.” He continued scolding you, as he inspected the scarring wound, and offensively stared at it.

“I’m really sorry.” Was your only answer, to both, hiding your wound from him and to him receiving the burnt of your pain.

“Also, you can always ask me to switch our cards. I don't mind.” Zayne added as he patched you up.

🧜🏻‍♂️ Rafayel 🧜🏻‍♂️

Rafayel is the ultimate king of petty.

You already know that right from the start but nothing prepares you for the way he massacres you from the game Kitty Cards.

During at the last hurrah of your showdown, Rafayel finally revealed his advance cards, he uses freeze to stop you from playing, uses advance cards that will turn your cup scores into one, kicking out your highest score kitties from the colored cups, and replacing it with his, stealing your deny cards, and using it against you. It was so bad, that on the inside, you felt your blood boil on how cruel it was. If he did it the first time, you would be proud of him, but he’s been winning all the rounds, and every time, it ends up with him brutally winning. His wins hit a nerve and you finally snapped.

“Ha! Please don't cry. Losing isn't that bad.” He said proudly, as Rafayel nodded to himself. He loves teasing you and he enjoys your banter together. He knows at this point, teasing each other is a form of bonding.

He was celebrating his win when he noticed how quiet you were. When he opened his eyes, the smug look on his face dropped and he stopped in his tracks. The look on your face was devastating and he never saw that before. Your scrunched up face, eyes filled with upcoming tears. When both of your eyes met, there seemed like a switch in you, that made you burst into tears. Rafayel, who doesn't know how to handle your outburst, tries his best to console you. But he did not expect that you were still mad at him, so when he tried to hug you, you pushed him away and ran.

Since then, you have refused to reply to his texts. You even muted his calls so you won't have to answer it. Whatever you did that day was so embarrassing that you’d rather sever whatever relationship you have with Rafayel instead of relieving how sore loser you were. It was just a game, and you cried like a baby from it. There were times that you're trying to justify your tears by saying maybe Rafayel’s insults were too much that day, and it was the reason why you burst into tears, but there would be nothing so petty as pushing someone away and running due to losing from a board game.

Sighing, you just accepted that Rafayel will probably stop talking to you. It is what it is as you continue to go on with your day, when your phone blares and a notification about Rafayel being in danger popped up in bold letters. You did not hesitate as you rode your bike and flew to Rafayel’s whereabouts.

You burst through his studio door, and your eyes caught his figure slumped on the floor, leaning to his couch.

“What happened? Are you okay? Did you slip on your paint brushes again?” You asked worriedly, as you touched his shoulder, arms and legs, to see if he injured himself again. You were so worried and kept asking many questions that were meant silently, you were about to unleash the hulk at him for not answering, when you stopped on your tracks when you noticed the frown on his forehead and his glare.

“Really? Do I have to injure myself so you can notice me?” He bit down and you whimpered, not from his anger but from guilt.

“Sorry.” You apologized. You look down and twiddle your thumbs, not knowing how to dissipate the awkwardness of the situation and Rafayel’s glare.

It took a moment before you hear Rafayel’s sigh in defeat and open his mouth to talk again.

“You could have just asked me, and I will allow you to cheat by putting my kitties in different cups, or even by replacing my advance cards. All you have to do is say please.” He continued, exasperated.

All you can do is look down in shame and murmur an apology for acting so childish.

“Just….. don’t ignore me again like that, please. It doesn't feel good when the most important person in your life suddenly stops talking to you.” He added, his voice quivered a bit and you wince when you realize how your action affected him. Opening up his old wounds.

“I’m really sorry, Rafayel. I promise to be better next time.” A silence falls between you again. It took a moment before you realize despite how mad he was, he refuses to move his left hand. The air of guilt slowly turned into worry again.

“Did you injure your left hand?” You asked worriedly and slowly touched his left hand when he flinched and gritted his teeth from the pain.

“Probably sprain it when I fell.”

“You fell!?”

“It's fine, Ms. Bodyguard. I bet it will heal tomorrow. Just feed me for now.” He chuckled at your worried face and you watched him move his left hand with no worry, following your reaction from it. You just shake your head at how silly that was, and was so happy he was okay, before you stood up, helped him up, and treated him like a prince just for today.

#eydi andrius #fic title: sore loser #love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader

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anilovie · 9 months

Text

My Love, My Life

Summary: You and Anakin are on a supply-run and get caught in a storm, forcing you to find shelter amidst growing tensions.

WC: 9.3k

CW: MDNI, pwp, oral (f recieving), mild size kink, shared shower, lots of fluff

AN: I swear this whole thing was revealed to me in a vision.

You and Anakin had been watching the weather closely since being sent out in the dingy little transport ship. The mission was to deliver supplies and medical aid to an incognito Obi-Wan on the planet Leaze— before the storm got bad enough where travel became impossible.

It was a simple mission, if not complicated by the sudden turn in their seasons, bringing forth a front of strong winds and heavy rains. Anakin could have even come himself, but the two of you played up the extent of Obi-Wan’s sustained injuries so that the Council would feel the need to send a medic – you – along for the ride as well. Any opportunity for you and Anakin to spend time together, you exploited.

Really, Obi-Wan just sprained a wrist. He was low on food, water ammo, batteries, and his clothes had been all torn up in a nasty skirmish with some bounty hunters. “A joyride,” Anakin referred to this mission as. That is, until you began the descent into Leaze’s misty, swirling skies.

In between tracking his location and watching the weather radar, Anakin’s focus was on bringing you down to the ground safely — with a little more emphasis on safe, since you were here. Thus, his hands gripped the controls with a bit more force than normal, jaw clenched and brows furrowed as he met each gust of wind with a controlled parry. He pulled the shuttle through the misty skies, stabilizing the rocking foundations through the whipping winds that threatened to toss you right out of the air.

You weren’t sure how he could even see. The rain and leaves that had stuck to the window obliterated any view– he likely wasn’t even trying to see. You realized this as he answered Obi-Wan’s incoming call without even sparing a glance out the window, fingers flying over the dashboard, weathering the elements through intellect and feeling alone.

“Anakin, Y/n, I trust that you’ve made it here safely,” Obi-Wan’s hologram displayed before you and Anakin. He looked alright – his disguise was off, for now, and he seemed to be someplace warm and out of the rain, a complete juxtaposition to the two of you.

As soon as the words warbled through, something slammed into the shuttle, rocking the foundations with an ominous groan as you began to plummet.

Anakin swore and yanked on the yoke, flicking some switches on the dashboard. “Working on it,” he bit through clenched teeth, huffing as the inferior ion engines sputtered and popped to life, breaking your fall. The shull continued to rattle and jerk, throwing you around in your seat despite being fully strapped up.

“I can see that,” Obi-Wan quipped. “Well, once you make it to the ground, don’t bother coming to my location. The storm is worse than the reports have indicated. Find shelter for yourselves – I can hold out another day.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. It’ll do more harm than good forcing you out there in these conditions. I am safe where I am.”

“Which is where?”

The transmission cut out for a moment, shuttering off and on again as sheets of rain pelted the aluminum roof. You caught the last half of his explanation. “--they offered a room for the night, though at a high price. I hope you brought extra credits.”

“Some,” Anakin grit.

“Perfect. Well, I won’t keep distracting you. It looks like you’ve got your hands full,” Obi-Wan bid goodbye, his cheery tone outlandish among your current predicament. “Happy landings,” he bid, and the transmission cut off.

Your fingers dug into your armrests, trusting Anakin’s skill to see that wish through. He was still deeply concentrated, and more than a little stressed as he pulled the yoke and typed over multiple colorful buttons.

“Well, at least he’s safe,” you offered offhandedly, trying to diffuse the tension. Another hard gust of wind slammed into the hull, this time on your side, followed by a hard sheet of rain. You flinched.

The lights had begun to flicker a while ago, and now they shut off completely, leaving you in the pitch black. Your sharp intake of air was audible, heart dropping to the pits of your stomach as the assault on the ship heightened.

“It’s okay, I did that on purpose,” Anakin explained. You could hear the strain in his voice, the clacking of his fingers over the overworked dashboard. “We need more power to the engines and thrusters. It’ll be a bumpy landing either way, but–”

“It’s okay,” you squeaked.

“We’re almost there…”

Bracing yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped the armrests, anticipation swirling around in your gut. You trusted him. You didn’t have to be so afraid. It was the weather you didn’t trust. Maker forbid you land in a pit of mud, swallowed up before you could escape.

A sudden jolt threw you forward, the sickening screech of bolts and rods fighting to hold the metal panels of the shuttle together drowning out all other senses. Inertia pushed you forward in your seat, and you would have gone flying out the windshield if it weren’t for the double straps tightened over your chest, the lap belt, and the death grip you had on your armrests.

Slowly, the sliding of the shuttle ship began to slow, the tension in the shuttle easing, parts settling back into place. Then, the sounds of the vicious rain pelting the roof returned, your body relaxing against the seat with a huff, blinking your eyes open to the pitch blackness of the hull.

“You okay?” Anakin worried, clicking out of his own seatbelt to reach for you.

You followed suit, fingers fumbling around in the dark for the clasps that would free you. “All good,” you released one set of straps, and Anakin found the two others for you. “Thanks.”

Another gust of wind nudged the shull forward, groaning under the pressure. Some lights flickered on, and there was Anakin fiddling with the control panel overhead so you could see.

“I don’t think we can stay here for very long, unfortunately,” he said, and you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him look so stressed. “The ship appears to be sinking. We’ll have to pack a bag and get going.”

Abandon ship? In these conditions?

Again, your unshakable trust in him erased any fear in your mind. He’d done far riskier and more dangerous things – his own fear now was because of you. You’re safety.

But you were fine – just a little shaky as you stood and reached for the supply crates in the back, rifling through them for necessities, tossing them to Anakin to shove into a bag. You managed to get half of what you’d originally planned to drop off for Obi-Wan into two bags. Anakin shrugged the larger one over his shoulders, and you took the smaller one.

You’d both come prepared, already wearing rain ponchos, but it seemed like they’d do little good as Anakin kicked the stuck door open. The sound of the rain coming down was deafening, a roaring torrent that could easily sweep you away.

“Hold on to me,” Anakin yelled over the sound, and you hooked an arm around his, pulling you out of the ship with him.

Mud and rain splattered your face as your boots met the ground, and he immediately took off, dragging you with him. Again, your blind faith in him came in handy. All you could focus on was spluttering around the rain for any pocket of air you could find, trying to keep upright as your heels slipped and skidded in the mud, hoping you weren’t slowing Anakin down.

Of course you were slowing him down. You were no Jedi. But you both knew that, and he didn’t mind. Just wanted you out of the wind and rain so you wouldn’t catch a cold.

After what seemed like ages of the two of you fighting through the elements, narrowly avoiding trees and branches and sharp rocks, Anakin pointed out an abandoned shed in the distance. He ran for it, pulling you under the awning with him so he could pound on the door.

“No one’s here,” he spoke after a moment as you were still wiping water out of your eyes. Something clicked in the door, unlocking so Anakin could open it up and peer inside.

He found the light switch on the wall, flipping it up and down uselessly. “Power’s out,” he mumbled, searching around in the force for some mechanism of light. Apparently finding something, he released your hand. “I’ll be right back.”

You stood shivering by the closed door, dripping a puddle of water onto the ground as you waited for him to return. With your sight gone, your other senses were heightened – you could smell the dust of furniture long forgotten, hear the creeks of unkempt floorboards as Anakin explored the shed, and feel the bone-cold chill of the storm seeping in under the crack in the door. Wherever you were, it was very old, and likely abandoned.

Anakin came back around the corner brandishing a candle, shielding the flame with one hand as he made his way back to you.

“This looks like it was somebody’s home at one point,” he thought aloud, pointing to the way he just came. “That’s a kitchen over there, and there’s a loft with a bed in the back. Pretty sure I saw a shower, too. I can probably get the pumps running long enough to make use of it.”

You wouldn’t question how he could do that– sometimes it seemed like he had magical powers, even without the force.

“Is there a fireplace?” you wondered, shaking off your drenched poncho and stepping further in now that you could see. “Maybe I could heat up some water to use, warm this place up a bit, too.”

Anakin held the candle out before him, casting shadows over the interior of the little shed. Right in front of the door was a wooden stairway – more of a ladder – that led to what you assumed was an attic. Deciding to avoid any bats or rodents, you agreed to keep that shut and rounded the ladder to what looked like a tiny living room opposite the kitchen, separated by a thin wall.

A couple threadbare sofa-chairs sat dusty and weathered on the dull carpet, a table set before the both of them, and – jackpot – a little stone fireplace in the corner.

“The wood from outside is too wet to burn,” Anakin poked at the empty log pit. “But I could break down that table and use it as fuel…”

“Good idea,” you chirped, taking the candle from Anakin to free up his hands for the task. “I’ll go look for more candles and matches.”

The kitchen was just as tiny, standing room only and no dining table. It consisted of a slab of wood for a counter, an empty ice box that was cracked down the middle, and some drawers which were also mostly empty.

One of the cupboard up top held a few random supplies, mostly rubber bands and bottle caps and dead batteries. But amid that was a bag of little tea candles, a few larger ones made of a slippery wax, and a box of matches. Half were no good, but you only needed to light one and then share the flame with all the others.

You planted the tea candles around on various surfaces, lighting the space up as Anakin broke down the table. You threw some old papers you’d found bunched in a drawer into the fireplace for more starter fuel, scratching another match to life against the grated box once Anakin dropped a leg of the table into the fire. You tossed the match in after it, satisfied when the flame caught the edge of the papers and flared to life, enveloping the wooden leg.

“That’s so much better,” you sighed, holding your hands out to warm by the flame.

“Mmhm,” he agreed, crouched beside you. He stared, mesmerized by the flames for a long moment before suddenly standing. “Alright, I’m gonna go look at the pipes. Will you be okay for now?”

“Yup,” you nodded cheerily. “Where are the pipes?”

“There’s a cellar out back. Should be down there.”

“Oh…” this time, your shiver wasn’t from the cold. “Want me to go with you? Sounds kinda creepy.”

Anakin huffed a laugh, running a hand down the back of your head affectionately. “No, I think I’ll be alright, thank you. Want you to stay here and warm up.”

“I’ll go get the bed ready.”

“Perfect,” he brought you toward him with that hand, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be back.”

Now alone, you fed the fire with some more wood from the table, crouching down before the bags to get out your and Anakin’s spare set of clothes. You hung them up on the sill of the fireplace, weighing them down with the candles so they could dry.

There were a couple of large buckets beside the fireplace, probably meant for gathering wood. You took one and set it outside to collect rainwater. It didn’t take very long at all – it filled up from the downpour within minutes, and you hung it up on the metal rod above the fire to boil for drinking water.

Then you grabbed one of the thicker candles to light your way to the back of the shed. The floorboards lifted slightly back here, half of a wall hiding the bedroom from the rest of the interior.

The bed was quite large for such a small space, half-made with a quilted cover. It looked all dusty and gross, so you tore it off and opened all the drawers and cupboards in the space, praying for some spare sheets.

Luck seemed to be on your side. There was a set of sheets, blankets, and even a couple of pillows stowed away atop the first shelf in the closet. You had to strain on your tiptoes to reach them, but eventually knocked them down to your height. You took them to the living room and shook them out, making sure no dust or any bugs hid inside, then brought them back to the room and made the bed.

It was a lot more than you were hoping for, for an abandoned shed in the depths of the forest.

With the bed all made and Anakin not back yet, you decided to use the old dirty blanket to wipe down the interior of the bathroom. There was a shower – if that’s what you could call it. Really, it was just a spigot attached to the wall with a drain beneath, the floor here made of smooth rock rather than wood. But if Anakin could get it to work, and you warmed up some more water over the fire, you could have a real, warm shower using the soap you’d brought from the ship.

The sound of the door opening let in the roar of the rain once more. Anakin closed it behind him, shaking water out of his hair.. “Good news,” he called, voice carrying from the door to the bedroom in the small shed. “There’s a water heater down there that I got working, as well as the pipes. I just have to fill the tank and we’re good to go.”

“Ohh,” you cooed excitedly, rounding the corner to meet him again. “I found a bucket we could use– hold on.” You grabbed the spare bucket from the fireplace and handed it to him. “The bed’s all set, I found some clean sheets and cleaned up the bathroom. There doesn’t seem to be anything useful in the kitchen or anywhere else,” you shrugged. “But I think this will do pretty well for the night.”

“I think so, too,” Anakin said, and despite the howling wind and icy rain pounding into the roof and threatening to shatter the windows, he smiled.

He left to go fill the tank, and you laid out the rest of the supplies before the fire. The bigger bag was for Obi-Wan– those things you didn’t touch. But you and Anakin had a couple extra blankets, some food, a blaster, maps, and your medical supplies. Most of it survived the rain.

By the time Anakin came back, you were still sitting before the fire, occasionally feeding it with more scraps of wood and poking it around with a longer piece. He kicked the mud and dirt off his boots at the door before coming in, shrugging off his poncho.

“Alright, bad news…” he started this time. You turned to look at him. “The heater is the slowest thing I’ve ever come across. It’ll take hours. I don’t think showers are in the cards for us tonight.”

You twisted your lips, trying not to seem too disappointed. “Bummer.”

All you wanted to do was get out of these sticky, soaking wet clothes and immerse yourself in a warm shower. But at least he tried, and it really wasn’t the end of the world.

“Maybe in the morning,” you reasoned, trying to stay positive. He joined you by the fire as you tugged on the clothes you’d hung up, seeing if they were ready. “At least these are dry, and warm now. That’s better than nothing.”

“It is. Smart girl,” he tilted your face toward his with a finger, crouched before you again. His lips met yours – wet meeting dry, cold meeting warm. It took you by surprise a little bit, the intensity he kissed you with out of nowhere. But you responded in earnest, as if the simple touch of your flesh could warm him from the torrents coming down outside.

After a long moment, he pulled back an inch, mumbling against your mouth, “Let’s get out of these wet clothes, yeah?”

You nodded silently, standing once he gave you room to take the clothes down from the fire.

You’d been on missions with Anakin before, just the two of you. But nothing like this – so raw, so intimate, so secluded from the rest of the world. You could feel a strange tension in the air between you two, not bad. Just… different. Like there was an energy pulsing alive, waiting for something to snap.

You’d been with Anakin for a few months now, and in love with each other for far longer. But… you’d never truly been with him yet. In any way.

He knew you weren’t ready, and explained you could take it slow. As slow as you wanted. He, of course, was already experienced, and that intimidated you. Which is why it had been months, and you still hadn’t made a move to progress things. Just the thought of doing those things with him made you impossibly nervous.

But lately, like now, you were thinking about it more and more. You couldn’t do this with anyone else, you thought. Just Anakin. You loved him more than life itself, and your ability to express that with words or innocent touches was growing limited.

You wanted more of him. And you wanted him to have more of you.

What are you thinking? You shook the thoughts out of your head as you took your clothes into the bathroom to change. These thoughts had nothing to do with the predicament you found yourselves in. The last thing he was thinking about was sex.

In fact, upon exiting the bathroom, you found him already changed into his dried pair of pants and nothing else, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you with a tired, slumped look in his eyes.

He’d given you his spare shirt to wear since it was bigger and warmer than yours, and he wasn’t going to wear it anyways. You also had on a pair of shorts, the comfy ones you brought for sleeping since you thought you’d be in an inn right now.

You approached him slowly, shadows cast over his face from the candlelight, flickering off the walls. The air was a bit chillier back here, away from the fire that you’d let simmer to embers for now. Naturally, you gravitated toward his shirtless form, slotting yourself in the space he’d opened up for you between his knees, and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“What an odd change of plans,” you muttered into his hair softly.

His flesh hand found your back, holding you close as he nestled his head against your chest. “Agreed.”

You remained like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other’s warmth and rain-damp hair, listening to the constant thrum of the downpour above, the gusting wind in the trees.

“You tired?” you asked, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. You liked how it looked dark and burnished in the candlelight, holding the shape of a ringlet curl as you wrapped and uncoiled it from around your finger.

“Very,” he breathed, turning his face into your neck to leave a kiss on your collarbone. “C’mere.”

Both of his wrapped around your back, securely holding you to him as he fell backward onto the bed, with you on top of him. You laughed, steadying yourself with your arms on either side of his head, ducking down to plant a sweet kiss above his brows.

“You’re not even on the bed,” you pointed out, referring to his legs which were still on the floor. You pulled back the covers, and you both slipped under, instantly finding the spot between his chest and shoulder to lay your head. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you snuggly into his side, allowing you to slot one of your legs between his.

This is how it always was when you and him could truly be alone, uninterrupted, with no threat of someone finding you out. It was a rare moment, which is why your skin sang with every inch it pressed against his, heart soaring in your chest as your body seemed to settle so perfectly against his, erasing any doubt in your mind that any of this could be a mistake.

Before long, and without even realizing, you slipped into a deep sleep. Despite the harsh weather outside, you’d never felt so comfortable, wrapped up in warmth and darkness. That is, until Anakin woke with a start, wrenching you out of your slumber.

“What issit?” you slurred, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. It wasn’t like when he’d have nightmares, where you’d usually wake up before him due to his tossing and turning and mumbling. This was sudden – like something had possessed him, stolen all the air from his lungs as wide eyes turned to you.

“The transmitter,” he said, throwing the blankets off of him and getting out of bed. Your head was still lagging behind, having no idea what he meant.

“What transmitter?”

“The one on the ship. The only way we can contact Obi-Wan. We left it behind.”

He was already pulling on his boots and reaching for his other shirt, sparing no time. You pushed yourself further up in bed, swiping your hair out of your face. “D’you have to get it now? Can it wait till the morning?”

“The ship was sinking when we left it. It could be buried in mud right now,” he rushed the words out, grabbing his utility belt from the sill and securing it around his waist. “I’ll be back in an hour. Go back to bed… I’m sorry for waking you.”

“No, I’ll come with you,” you were already swinging your legs off the bed too, about to stand up when Anakin put a hand on your shoulder. It was dark now, the candles having been blown out without you realizing, and you could barely see his face.

“No. Stay here. I don’t want you out there, it’s too dangerous.”

“It’s just some rain,” your argument sounded meek, even to you. “Come on, Anakin, I don’t want you to go alone. ‘S not fair.”

“Fair?”

“You shouldn’t have to be out there while I stay here and sleep. I won’t be able to, anyway. It is dangerous, so I should come with you, in case something happens.”

“Y/n. No,” he said sternly, and you flinched. A heavy pause hung between you, where you searched for what to say among the scattered thoughts in your brain. He’d never been stern with you before. Ever.

“I won’t be gone long. I promise I’ll be there and back as fast as I can. Okay?”

“But,” you insisted stubbornly, desperately fighting back the sting in your eyes. “I want to go with you, Anakin. I want to help you.”

You tried to stand up again, but the hold he had on your shoulders wouldn’t let you. You tried to fight back the emotion rising in your throat, threatening to spill over your eyes at his defiance. He was too strong, his word absolute– and for once, you couldn’t sway him.

The thought of him out there, alone in the dark and cold and rain… it killed you.

You grasped at his wrists, still holding onto your shoulders, and squeezed as if you could keep him there. As if he wasn’t laughably stronger than you, and could pull away from your touch without realizing you were trying.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? This isn’t like you,” his words came out hushed now. Worried.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you sniffed, lip beginning to wobble. “Just don’t want you to get hurt.” It’s scary out there.

“I won’t. I promise… I’ll be okay. You’ll see,” he kissed the stray tear that squeezed out of your eye, collecting it with his lips before it could trail a path down your cheek. You tried to steady your breathing, shaky as it dragged in and out of your lungs, quelling the rising feeling of dread and fear.

Somehow, he’d coaxed you back into bed, on your back, tucking the sheets in around you nice and tight. Tight enough so that you couldn’t get out, perhaps. Whimpering in defeat, you felt another few tears squeeze out of your eyes, turning your head away from him to bury into the pillow.

“Don’t do this,” Anakin murmured, stroking a hand over your hair. “Please, don’t cry.”

“Fine,” you snipped, immediately regretting it. “‘M sorry… just don’t get hurt. Come back.”

“I will,” he whispered, and trailed warm kisses down your temple.

And then he was gone.

His voice, his touch, his scent, his warmth – all of it, vanished like it had never been there to begin with.

It’s not the fact that he’d left to go do something dangerous on his own – it was the fact that he was out there all alone, in a terrible storm, fighting through the unpredictability of the elements. It had been violent for the short time you’d been out there earlier, the rain pelting your skin so hard it stung, the mud sticking to your boots, refusing to let you move, the wind nearly toppling you over if Anakin hadn’t been there to steady you.

You could have gone with him. You could have kept up. And Maker forbid anything happen to him – if he got stuck, trapped somewhere, if a tree came down over him, if he got lost and couldn’t find his way–

You couldn’t stay in bed. Half of you wanted to pull your boots on too and meet him out there, but you knew that was a stupid decision. You didn’t have his sense of direction, the built in radar that he had. And even as you peered through the cloudy window to the outside world, you knew it would be in vain. The night forest was alive with shuttering tree limbs, branches fighting each other in the sky as the terrible wind tossed them around. The rain never let up, the same suffocating sheet of water dumping from the moonless sky above.

Anakin was far gone at this point. You could only sit by the window, alone in the cold, dusty dark, until he returned.

The sleeves of your – Anakin’s – shirt had grown damp by the time you spotted his figure appear out of the trees.

It startled you at first, worried some stranger had come across the shed in the same way you and Anakin had, and was now heading this way to seek shelter. Once he arrived, he might find you here, and maybe he’d try to hurt you.

You slipped off the ledge you were sitting on and grabbed for the water-logged blaster you’d set on the floor, shaking out some raindrops and hoping it wasn’t one of the things that got destroyed by the rain.

Your worry was for naught - the closer the figure grew, the more you recognized the height, shape, and gait of Anakin Skywalker. The hood of his poncho was pulled up over his head, but it did little good as the wind tugged and pulled at it, letting the rain drench his face anyway.

You set the blaster down and met him by the door, pulling it open to reveal him soaked to the bone and panting. He truly had run the whole way.

“Anakin,” you started, trying to stay out of his way so he could take off his poncho and boots without spraying you with water. “Are you okay? Did you get the transmitter?”

“I made it just in time,” he explained, reaching into his belt pocket and brandishing the little metal device. Such a small thing, important enough to risk his life over.

At least, to him it was.

“You must be freezing,” you muttered, still upset at the fact that you hadn’t shared in his suffering. You hated seeing him go through these things alone. You should have been with him.

“The heaters have probably had enough time to warm the water up,” his attempt to distract you didn’t go unnoticed. “You wanna go check for me?”

You whispered, “okay,” and flit back to the bedroom, lighting a couple of candles inside so you could see. The spigot was stuck in place due to years of sitting unused and abandoned, but eventually you managed to wrench it to the side, almost splattering yourself with brown water.

Your face crinkled in disgust, but soon it began to run clear. You tested the temperature with your fingertips, pleased to feel that it was warm.

Anakin rounded the corner, leaning against the doorway of the bathroom with his arms crossed. “Is it working?”

“Yeah. It’s warm,” you pulled your hand away and wiped it dry on your shorts. “You should get in quick so it’s not wasted.”

“Wanna join me?”

His offer caught you by surprise.

Join him? In the shower? As in… naked?

The look on your face must have given your thoughts away. He chuckled and reached toward one of the tea lights you’d just lit, snuffing the flame out between two gloved fingers. “I can turn off the lights…” he teased.

Damn him. As if you weren’t already flustered –

The steady trickle of the spigot remained at your back, seducing you to the warmth of the shower. It would feel so good to be able to wash up. And with there only really being enough time for one shower… it would make sense for the both of you to just do it together.

But Anakin had never seen you without clothes before. And you hadn’t prepared for that to happen today.

“Yes… no…?” he drawled, uncrossing his arms and reaching out for the other candle. Like the first, he pinched the flame out, blanketing the room in darkness. The sound of the floorboards creaking was the only way you knew he was approaching, tensing as you felt his hands tug at the hem of your shirt. “C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll behave.”

You were still upset with him being stern with you earlier. And even more upset that he didn’t let you go with him.

But something about his honey-smooth voice reduced you to putty in his hands. Warmth budded and bloomed deep in your stomach, and a certain resolve passed over you. You didn’t want to be upset anymore. You wanted this.

“Okay,” you whispered, fingers finding Anakin’s at the bottom of your shirt. You didn’t miss his slight inhale.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” you tugged the hem up yourself, urging him to guide the material over your head.

The darkness of the room was the only thing that offered you any sort of comfort, knowing he couldn’t truly see you just yet. You knew, logically, that he could fathom things in his mind without having to see them, but purposely ignored that fact.

You weren’t sure where your shirt landed, as he’d been the one to tug your arms out himself. Riding the adrenaline high, you slipped your thumbs under the elastic of your sleep shorts and pushed them down, kicking them somewhere in the corner.

And there you were, standing completely naked in front of Anakin Skywalker – your love, your life – for the first time ever.

Again, the only reason you could really do this right now was because it was pitch black in the room. You only had enough nerve to then reach for him, hand finding the soaking wet material of his own shirt as you shivered in the cold.

“Hurry up and get undressed, I wanna get in,” you pleaded. He’d gone eerily silent.

At your request, he started into motion. You could hear the sounds of his wet clothes slopping to the ground heavily, trying to fight the blush off of your face as you turned around to pull the spigot further. The water began to rain down in a warm current now, and you stepped underneath to douse yourself in the glorious heat.

“Where are yo–? oh,” you jumped as you felt his hands find their way around your waist, his naked chest pressed up against your back. The water sprayed over the both of you, trickling down his body to fall onto yours, shivering at the added heat.

The blood in your face grew warmer, trying not to think about how close his hands were to two very sensitive parts of your body. They spanned almost the whole length of your torso, tummy twisting as you realized just how big he was. Just how strong.

But he chose to be gentle with you.

Trying to steady your breathing, you reached for the soap you’d stowed away in the notch in the wall, flipping the cap open and squirting a generous amount into the palm of your hand. Anakin trailed his fingers down your arm, taking the bottle from you and setting it down again.

You rubbed the soap between your hands, letting the excess drip down your body so it wouldn’t go to waste. Then, you began rubbing the suds all into your skin, feeling impossibly feverish at the predicament.

It just felt… wrong, somehow, to be touching yourself like this in front of Anakin. Even if you were just washing up.

His hands had returned to your waist, and you smoothed them over his own as you worked your way down your body. Wordlessly, he turned his hands over, capturing your soapy fingers in his and stealing some of the suds. You huffed a laugh, heart fluttering in your chest as he began to work that soap into the soft skin of your stomach, hips, and waist.

You tried not to squirm too much. Forced yourself to relax, and just let him do what he wanted. He was obviously enjoying it, the way he lingered, rubbing circles into your soft skin, kissing at your shoulder blade as he brought his hands around and up your back, almost massaging the soap into you.

The way his hands moved over your body was so different than anything you’ve ever felt before. You’d never been touched so tenderly, so unrestricted yet loving as you’d been now. And though he had free reign, he avoided the parts that might make you uncomfortable… until you grew bold enough to capture his wandering hands in your own, leading them to the soft mounds of flesh yourself.

On instinct he squeezed, ever so gently, with your smaller fingers bracketing his own. “You can touch me,” you whispered, encouraging now that you were fully relaxed and comfortable with him.

“You’re perfect,” he replied, lips finding the curve of your neck.

What had he said about behaving?

As if he could read your thoughts, his lips released the skin of your neck with a small sound, pressing a kiss above that spot, and then one more under your jaw. Then he began to move his hands over your breasts, not quite sexual, but gentle. Caring. Washing you of rainwater and chill, so all that was left was the sweet smelling soap and the feel of him.

You sighed in relief, bones turning to mush in his hands. Soon, he reached for the soap again and squeezed more out, stepping around so that he was in front of you.

His hands found you again, your waist this time, the unpredictability of his touches making your heart hammer against your ribs. Something about it was so thrilling, not being able to see where he was or where he was planning to go, especially now that you’d given him permission to touch you. You weren’t sure where you’d draw the line if it came to that. If you’d draw the line.

His touch remained wholly innocent, though, focusing back around on your stomach, dragging down the curve of your waist, your hips, the tops of your thighs. You could feel his breath on your tummy, butterflies flaring to life as you realized he was on his knees before you, dragging his touch up and down your thighs as his lips pressed a sensual kiss to the top of your tummy. Then above your belly button. Then one below–

You held your breath, anticipating him to keep going. But he lingered on the last kiss, and you could feel his teeth on your skin as he smiled.

“On my best behavior, remember?” his voice was deep, almost a purr.

You could only manage a meek “Mmhm,” as he continued on, tracing his fingers down to your knee, lifting one leg slightly so he could trail kisses down your thigh, over your knee, down, down down, all the while rubbing soap into your skin in his lip’s wake.

By the time he reached your foot, you were bracing yourself with your hands on his shoulders, trying not to jump out of your skin as his lips continued. He kissed your ankle, the top of your foot, massaging soap into the soles of your feet.

He wasn’t just washing you. He was worshiping you.

That much was clear as he released that leg and started over on the other side.

You were almost relieved when he was done. Every inch of your skin was alive and buzzing, standing on edge with electricity and embarrassment and something else. Something deep, and smooth, and warm like bubbling molasses. You could barely breathe, glad for the moment of reprieve when he finally released you, and deposited more soap in his hands so he could wash himself.

Your legs were jelly, afraid you’d fall down right there in the shower, completely baffled how he could just do something like that and continue on like nothing happened. Then, you heard the speed at which he was rubbing the soap over his own body – clearly, he wanted to get out to continue this elsewhere.

You weren’t terribly ashamed to admit you were thinking along the same line.

Before the water could run cold, Anakin had urged you both under the spigot again and rinsed all the suds off your body. Then he grabbed for the single towel that you’d brought from the supply bag, turning the water off and wrapping you up in it.

“Hey– what’re you doing?” you pouted, undoing the towel just as soon as he’d tucked it into you, secure.

“Getting you dry,” he responded like it was obvious. You rubbed the towel over your skin quickly, then wrapped Anakin in it like he’d done to you. Or– you tried to, at least. You still couldn’t see, and completely missed your mark, caught off guard by the absence of the body you confidently reached for that you almost slipped, bracing yourself on the first thing you could reach.

“Woah,” Anakin chuckled, easily steadying you with his hands around your waist. Your bare chest was pressed against his, glaringly obvious with the way the cold air tightened your skin, and you blushed furiously.

“Sorry– couldn’t find you,” you mumbled, hopelessly patting at his chest with the towel now that you had him.

“Alright, let’s get you dressed and out of here before you take us both down,” he teased, bending to retrieve the clothes you’d both discarded in the dark.

You let him pull his shirt over your head first, shielding you from the nippy air. You were disappointed with the loss of contact, but glad for the sense of normalcy. He knelt before you again and urged you to lift your leg with his hand around your calf, guiding one leg, then the other into your shorts, pulling them up until they rested comfortably on your hips.

He pulled his own pants on, the only thing he’d be wearing, and you finally reached for the bathroom door, ready to be able to see again even if it was only by candlelight.

It was like re-entering life, after being in the dark for so long. You turned to see if Anakin was following you, finding him close behind as he shut the door behind him, and just the sight of his ridiculously handsome face, gilded by the glow of the fire, set your heart aflame.

You needed his lips on yours. Now.

This time, he was taken by surprise with the intensity of your kiss. You stood on your tiptoes and captured his lips with yours, barely noticing as he fell back into the door slightly, hand finding your hip to steady you. His surprise quickly melted into an intensity that matched your own, hot lips sliding over yours, tongue dipping into your mouth for a taste, palm guiding your jaw just how he liked.

He kissed like he was drinking you in, breathing your air, as if he wished to share the same skin as you. And though you’d started it, now you were trying to keep up, head growing fuzzy from lack of oxygen as he began to guide you backward, onto the bed.

As soon as your back hit the mattress, the reality of the situation dawned on you. He wasn’t slowing down, and you didn’t want him to. His touch dragged fire across your flesh, tracing down the places he’d just worshiped under your clothes, pulling you so close to him you could feel his heart hammer in his chest.

Your hands buried in his hair, the other on his shoulder for stability, grounding as he released your lips with a gasp, wasting no time before claiming the sensitive skin of your neck with the same furiosity.

“Anakin,” you breathed, not really sure what you wanted to say. You just wanted to taste his name in your mouth, the way the syllables sounded so pretty, so perfect between your teeth.

He answered with a short “mmm,” listening but not really. He was too deep into it, kissing and sucking and nipping at your neck, tongue laving over the small hurts that his teeth dug into you.

Somehow his flesh hand had drifted to the elastic of your shorts. You’d missed it before, too caught up in him toying with the skin over your pulsepoint. But now his fingers teased the elastic that he’d just put on you, and despite your livewire nerves and the pound of your heart, you lifted your hips in invitation.

His mouth detached from your neck, shocked again as he breathed, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you forbid him from asking again by pulling him back to your lips. You needed the distraction, bracketing his jaw in both your hands as he pulled your shorts down your legs, slowly. Giving you time to back out.

You kicked them off once he reached your feet, flinging them out of sight. Anakin settled back between your thighs, your knees squeezing his waist, squirming as his touch now roamed free under your shirt.

“Anakin,” you pulled away to breathe once again, lips swollen and wet, filled with the taste of him. “I– I don’t know what to do.”

His eyelashes shuttered, delicate as a butterfly wing, and he leaned back in to peck you gently on the lips. “Don’t worry about a thing,” he murmured, eyes all melted and soft. “I’ll take care of you.”

There it was again. That blind trust.

He could do whatever he wanted to you right now, and you’d let him. Half dressed, strewn over the bed, all for his taking… and he moved down your body to recount the kisses he’d pressed to your stomach in the shower only moments before.

Your muscles clenched and unclenched, hips squirming as you felt an uncomfortable warmth, a wetness, an ache between your legs the further down he moved. You were no stranger to that feeling, or how to relieve it– but you were new to sharing it with someone else. Sharing it with him.

Though it made you incredibly nervous to have him down there, the need for his touch outweighed everything. He kissed your stomach, hips, and thighs until he felt you relax under his palms, and only then did he slide his hands beneath your knees, pausing one last time to ask:

“Will you let me taste you?”

It felt like something exploded in your face, with the intensity that heat bloomed in your cheeks. Those bejeweled eyes shining in the candlelight, intent on you, hands clutching the plush softness of the backs of your thighs, breath ghosting over the bottom of your stomach– it was almost too much.

“Okay,” you answered quietly, nodding your head. “Y-yes.”

His responding grin was wicked – roguish. Broad hands pushed your legs up and spread them apart, baring it all for him to see.

It was quick– so quick you barely had time to be embarrassed, like ripping a bandaid off. He just… did it. And now he was looking at you, holding your thighs so steady in his strong grasp that you couldn’t even dream of closing them on him.

You threw a hand over your eyes, unable to watch him look at you.

“Baby,” he breathed, flesh hand releasing one of your legs so he could slot it between your thighs, thumb pulling you open a little. You didn’t think it was possible to be more embarrassed as he studied you, only opening your eyes to look at him when he tugged at your wrist in silent demand.

“C’mon, don’t be shy,” he teased, though when you blinked open your wet eyes to look at him, his face had melted into one of adoration. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, before pressing his lips to the swollen bud of your clit, taking you by surprise again. “The prettiest there ever was,” he smirked when he saw your reaction, pulling you open with both thumbs now so he could press a hot, deep, lingering kiss into you.

You gasped at the contact, blood rushing in your ears as your back bowed off the bed. Sparks of pleasure battled the humiliation as he continued planting sweet little suckling kisses to your clit, over and over, as if he couldn’t get enough.

Once you’d relaxed back onto the bed, and the first pathetic whimper left your mouth, he let his tongue roam your folds, collecting your taste.

He knew this was new for you, so he went slow. Started gentle, getting you used to the feeling. And it was strange for you, just a little bit, but mostly it felt… good. So good. Indescribably good. So much so that you couldn’t believe you’d held out on this for so long.

Couldn’t believe you were letting him do this to you now.

Your hips twitched and jumped as his tongue traced down to your entrance, teasingly licking you in circles, using pressure like he might try to put it in. The thought had you reaching for the bedsheets, needing something to squeeze in your fists. One of his hands intercepted yours, bringing it back to your thigh so he could hold you still and let you squeeze his hand at the same time.

He licked your arousal up, truly drinking you now, allowing his tongue to lave over your clit all slow and smooth and warm. You mewled, a sweet, innocent sound that went straight to his cock. With a desire to pull more pretty sounds from you, he kept drawing circles over your clit, increasing the pressure and speed until your eyes were closed, and you were biting your finger between your teeth, unable to help the sounds escaping you.

“Fuck, Ani–” gasped, thighs falling open by themselves now, inviting him deeper. He licked you again, closing his lips at the top of your heat to suck your clit into his mouth, pulling it between his lips with a pulsing suction.

He didn’t let up.

Your muscles tensed, the fuzzy warmth building in your gut, between your legs, spreading down your thighs, becoming all consuming. And just when you thought it would burst, he let go.

“Shit,” you cried, breathless as your hips rocked against his mouth. He laughed, sticking his tongue out so you could hump the met muscle, hot breath fanning over your most sensitive parts. His teeth gleamed in the firelight, dark eyes trained on you, and you had to shut your own so you didn’t cum right there.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he pulled his face away, pinching the inside of your thigh just enough to sting. You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze again. “Stay with me, pretty girl.”

His mouth, shining with your slick, lowered to your pussy again. And you couldn’t stop from moaning, hips canting up and down even though you knew it made his job more difficult. You just couldn’t help it– it felt too good.

And he knew that, so he was nice. It was your first time, after all. So he relaxed the hold he had on your hips and let you squirm, just a little, to delude you into thinking you had even an ounce of control.

“You gonna cum in my mouth, sweet thing?” he spoke against your cunt, sealing the words off with a loud, wet, kiss. “Gonna make a mess for me?”

You’d never appreciated the velvety timber of his voice more than right now.

“Mhm,” you whimpered pathetically, eyes squeezing closed. And again, he let you. There would be other times to play his wicked games.

“Alright, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready,” he soothed, returning his mouth to your clit. He licked and sucked, sliding his tongue back down to your hole and breaching the entrance like he’d fantasized about doing with his cock for so long now, carving the exact path he would take. You gasped for air, humming it out in cute helpless whines and whimpers, cheeks permanently stained in a flush.

“Anakin, I–” you wanted to say you loved him, no matter how pathetic that sounded. But it was true, it was all you could feel as his lips suctioned around your clit again, pulling it into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue in torturous circles. You loved him, loved his mind and his body, and the way his lips and tongue were pulling that glorious wave of heat from out of you now, swallowing the gush of hot slick that escaped from your pulsing hole.

He brought you down with his thumb on your clit, soothing gentle circles into it as you cried, body shaking and jerking beneath him. He watched you come undone with a small smile on his face, not allowing you to escape his attention for even a moment.

The last gulp of air that you took to settle your shivering muscles felt like the sweetest breath you’d ever taken. Anakin climbed back up your body, hands sliding over your knees, so he could kiss you deep on the lips.

You tasted yourself – it wasn’t bad… slightly salty, but not quite. That mixed with the taste of Anakin had your brain turn to mush again, lips lazy and compliant under his.

“See how good you taste?” he hummed, going back in to flirt his tongue around yours. “Fucking delicious.”

“Anakin–” you were pushing at his chest now, the buffer of arousal no longer shielding you from so much embarrassment. He laughed as you covered your face with your hands, immediately trying to tug them away again.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted with that lover’s pur, and you pouted once he finally succeeded in seeing your face again. He traced your bottom lip with his thumb, still smiling. “You okay?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, unable to fight back your own matching smile. “‘T was so good, Ani. Didn’t think… didn’t think it’d be like that.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm,” you shook your head, leaning into his warm palm as he cupped your cheek, thumb still stroking your bottom lip. “Thank you. Do you– do you want me to…”

It took him a second before he realized what you were talking about. His eyes widened slightly and he looked down, then laughed. “No– no, you don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t you want me to?”

“Of course I do,” he insisted, mirth and adoration oozing from his gaze. “But I can handle it tonight. Think that was enough for you.”

You pouted again, about to insist, but he kept you quiet with a kiss. “Another time, okay?” he whispered against your lips.

You nodded, complaisant.

“Good.” With a deep breath of his own, he lifted himself off of you, carefully closing your legs so they wouldn’t ache from being held open for so long. “Wait here,” he requested, and then left for the bathroom again.

He grabbed the towel you both had used, and sat on the edge of the bed. “Can you open up for me?” he asked, fingers sliding around your thigh in silent request.

Your face burned even harder than before, somehow, as you fulfilled his request, spreading your legs a bit so he could clean you up. It was a strange feeling, almost more intimate than what he’d previously been doing– but it was quick, and it felt nice now that your arousal was all cleaned up, and he could slip your shorts back on with you having to get up.

Anakin retreated back to the bathroom and was gone for a few long moments. You had an idea of what he was doing, another burst of heat blooming in your stomach at the thought of what was going on behind that door. You had half a mind to suggest helping him again. You were more than willing.

But he came out only a short time later to find that you’d straightened all the sheets, and were now waiting by the pillows for him to come back to bed with you. He blew out the candles as he passed them by, getting into the bed and wasting no time pulling you onto his chest.

He’d never felt closer to you. And you, him.

In the morning, you’d probably be embarrassed again, recalling what you’d done. The storm outside seemed to trap you in a bubble, your own world, and everything else seemed so far away now.

You pressed your palm to his chest, letting the strong thud, thud, thud of his heart lull you to sleep. Before he could feel you drift off, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” he said, and you heard it in your dreams.

divider from @saradika

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader fluff #anakin #anakin x reader fluff #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker x reader fic #anakin x reader fic #fluffy anakin #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader smut #fem!reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin oneshot #anakin smut

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shuttershocky · 2 months

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youtube

ARISE MY FELLOW GUNLANCERS WE'VE GOT BULLET BARRAGE BACK AS A CHARGING DRILL ATTACK

#monster hunter #Youtube #Strafing shells and Fullburst swings and even a parry we are so fucking back

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koter-irl · 15 days

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I'm done after this I promise but I love that the hunter parries you if you try to punch them

#astro bot #bloodborne

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herzzgeist · 9 months

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One Piece Headcanons - As If It Was Yesterday

Characters: Zoro, Law (pre-relationship) | Trope: Their little 'first' moments special to them | Content: For fem!readers - Wholesome and a tiny bit angsty in the end- enveloping you in bunny plushies

A/N: A 'little' headcanon for my favorite swordsmen, which 'first' moments they shared with you and cherish the most

Dividers by cafekitsune ~

Inspired by @themushroomofdeath - I really hope you like it

1st time you sparred together Your powerful blows, ferocious attacks and eager upkeeping grabbed the swordsman's attention. It's rare he lets a woman fight him, countering your advances with everything he's got. Usually, Zoro's one to lay low on fighting a woman - but you? He hasn't had this much fun in quite some time.

Swords clash against your weapon, sparks of friction restricting your vision as you notice the devious grin of your sparring partner, Zoro.

"Not bad. I feel like fighting a feral kitten."

"Oh shut it!"

Dodging and parrying every last counter of the pirate hunter, you can hear an amused huff, panting at you in nearing exhaust.

"Hold still already!"

"Only to be Lion song'd by you? Are you kidding me?"

Too fast you spin around, trying to face him while you reply, losing your balance in the process. Very smooth (Y/n). However it was a close call - Zoro caught you just in time, sneering at you in victor.

"Didn't need a fancy attack to sweep you off your feet eh?"

He most certainly did not. Zoro's face is close, too close - you feel his hot breath fanning against your skin. Clearing his throat in the faintest of abashment, he straightens you again and compliments you. Yes, compliments you.

When it's due, the swordsman isn't one to withhold you from earnest opinion, thus he grumbles:

"You did good. Just work on your focus and you'll be rocking the battlefield in no time."

"Thank you, but-"

The onyx of Zoro's eye sparks up, glaring you down in sheer annoyance.

"Just take it."

Seeing the tinge of dusted pink on the tip of his ears, it indicates you to simply accept his final resort. He sure is flustered . . for a reason you cannot explain, one he will remember all too well.

1st time you took a nap together How dare you take in his favorite spot? He loves snoozing on that exact spot, and you sat there, all curled up like a cat and snoring like a woodcutter. Might be an overstatement, at least the woodcutter part, however he cannot help but find it inviting to scoot over next to you and let your head fall down onto his shoulder.

Growling in irk, Zoro scratches the back of his neck - lost in what to do with you. Little you, who lies on his favorite spot to nap on.

"Ugh, what now . ."

Easier said than done, he decided to take a seat beside you. A bit stiff and insecure on his feet, he lowers down and shuffles closer, your legs touching slightly. By the warm sensation you rustle up in your sleep, yet only for a split second - practically jumpscaring the man.

Luckily, Zoro was able to keep his grunt of surprise at a lower volume and his gaze shoots to your mellow, sleepy face. Your head rests on his shoulder, breathing in steady pace. Adorable, is what comes up in the pirate hunter's mind - observing you closely and a smile hushes over his lips.

"Annoying little thing."

As annoying as he likes to describe you, he swiftly adds, giving a kiss to the crown of your head:

"Sweet annoying little thing."

And all that he muttered, whispering to himself in disbelief how warm and soft he feels in your presence. Truly calm and at ease. Something only you can provide him.

1st time you gave him a nickname What did you just call him? Wait. It actually sounded nice, coming from you. (Not like that shitty cook) The way you cood, almost singing it to him all sweet and with a hint of tease. Zoro knew you weren't a person to test him by calling him names - you simply showed your rosy, loveable side. Oh and he knew - and how he did, to this day.

"Hey tiger, got a minute?"

"Erm, are you talking to me?"

"Do you see anybody else around?"

Confusion is beyond what plasters over Zoro's face. He is utterly dumbfouned - uncertain on how to react to that highly unusual 'nickname' you just shot at him. Tiger?

"Say it again."

"What, tiger?"

"Again."

"Uh . . tiger."

It grows on him, not to mention bears a flattering effect on the stoic swordsman, thinking he's as strong as that striped beast. He does like the sound of that, especially how your voice melodically hums it to him.

"One more time."

"Zoro, come on don't play that card on me I-"

"That's not my name anymore."

A wide grin flashes at you and he approaches you slowly, making you a tad bit rattled. You feel how the heat in your cheeks saturates your skin softly, earning a vexed sigh out of you. However, the booming call of a certain cook lets the so called 'tiger' gnash his teeth in gremlin like manner.

"Oi Marimo! Get your ass over here!"

"Can't you see I'm busy, curly brow?!"

He isn't done with you, oh no. After losing the cussing battle against Sanji, Zoro swears to come back and make you say it. Again.

"Don't move a muscle. You and I have to settle something, sweet thing."

Oh dear . .

1st time he saw you There you were, your wanted poster. It was the high bounty that caught Law's attention first, then remembering the rumours of your foolish doings and last but not least - analysing your appearance. The surgeon isn't prone to be attracted to the outside of a person, still you withheld a certain esteem that he finds vaguely intriguing, even upon your first meeting. This is a feeling he dearly holds in his memory, to say the least.

"Well, nice to meet you. I'm (Y/n)."

"Trafalgar Law."

His hand is cold, calloused, rough around the edges. The firm grip tells you he isn't likely accustomed to this sort of introduction - a calm one, where individuals can actually look into eachother's eyes and not throw curses of rivalry against one another's heads for once.

Though that you are rivals, you thought it to be a more decent, mature way of greeting a fellow pirate. Strange? Yes, but it's extraordinarily welcoming for the Surgeon of Death, knowing there are in fact less numbskulls around than expected.

Grey irises basically scan you, closely following the outline of your feminine frame. You're smaller than he ought you to be. Staring down at you, he notices an intesity within your eyes - one that captivates and lures him to think you are smarter than you give yourself credit for.

Modesty is something he dare say deems attractive - he remembers the moment he realized what kind of woman you are.

"Let me make this clear, don't cross me. I don't take kindly to idiots hindering me, understood?"

"Oh I would never."

It's the mischevious tone in your voice, mixed with a coy sneer that opts him to click his tongue and roll his eyes. She's a rival alright, a supernova at that. She's dangerous - more than in one aspect.

1st time he fought beside you Law was astounded by your endurance and bravery throughout the first battle beside you, not to mention your cunning - knowing where and when to engage and find possibilites to support your partners. Yet also, it wasn't a surprise that you are too naïve, too impulsive and impatient for the next move. Speaking of, Law found himself staring whenever you strike with all your power - it left him rather entranced seeing your gracious demeanor, unadmittedly for certain.

"Watch where you're going idiot! Wait for the right moment!"

"I'm not yours to command, Trafalgar!"

Of course you run off by yourself. Law is used to that kind of behaviour, to his misfortune. Sprinting after you, he watches in horror as a giant's hand is about to grind you into dust and pounds the earth with an ear deafening rumble.

"(Y/n)-ya!"

Out of impulse he cuts the enormous fist in two, only to find . . nothing beneath. It was then where a sudden booming groan takes Law aback, coming to notice the giant loses his conciousness and slams to the ground face foward.

"What the?"

"Were you looking for me?"

Tapping his shoulder, you stand next to the panting doctor, who subsequently snaps at you for scaring him like that. How dare you!

"Y-No! Absolutely not! I knew you were alright, his hand was just . . conveniently in my way to be torn to shreds."

"Ah, I see. And it wasn't my name you called out to I assume."

"I didn't call for anybody, you're simply imagining things, (Y/n)-ya."

An arrow aims straight for your head, which you dodged in a swift move, almost effortlessly. More and more arrows follow, a rain of wooden projectiles threatening to pierce every inch of your skin, yet you scoff at the Heart pirate and beckon him nonchalantly.

"Come on, Law-ya! This isn't over yet! Let's find the others!"

With his mouth wide agape in appall he glares daggers into your back, grinding his jaw in rage as he yells close behind you:

"Mock and boss me one more time and I swear I'll hold your heart hostage."

"How romantic."

It's how you chuckle while hurdling the battlefield like a cat, parrying and countering attacks along the way, leaves Law tongue tied. He growls - deftly supressing the wave of emotion he hates the most. Fluster.

1st time you hugged/kissed him Never has he thought of getting this close to you, or you to him. And to his absolute demise, he never imagined to 'long' for more, after you wrapped your tiny self around his neck to console him. Nevertheless, the kiss was nothing but malice, taking him off guard - oh how he wanted you to do it again. He reminisces in that past moment almost daily.

"What was that just now, Heartstealer?"

"It was nothing! Can you just not? I'll treat this laceration with a quick precautionary stitch and cauterize. Just- have my back will you?"

You notice distress in his quaking frame, shaking and riled up as if seen a ghost. His hand takes care of the deep wound on his forearm, which he only recently caught, not accepting a unanticipated infection. There's too much blood loss and Law feels his concentration fading.

Without further ado, you support the man who gnarls at you immediately. Not keen on your kindness.

"Don't touch me!"

"You need my help right now, dumbass! Hold still and tell me how to stitch and cauterize!"

He obeys - for now. Unwilingly he instructs you how to lead the needle and burn the tissue in order to close his wound. The process is quick but rather painful, seeing how Law grits his teeth and hisses by the contact of the searing heat.

"You're distraught."

With your voice low, you attempt to find the reason for his unease.

"It was the burning chapel wasn't it?"

No words are needed to see the overwhelm in Law's expression. Never have you thought to witness this man in genuine worry, almost fear. He mutters, swallowing the clump of sorrow to maintain his pride.

"They didn't deserve to pass like this. They haven't done anything wrong . . I was too slow. Too weak. I couldn't -"

"Hey, hey . ."

After you wrapped up his lower arm with bandages, you enclose the distance between you and Law - slinging your arms around his neck to sufficate the dark thoughts fogging up his mind.

"Sshh, don't dig into a scar that's still healing. Calm down."

Your warmth singes his heart, earning a surprised 'Mhm' out of him as he earnestly enjoys being hugged by you.

"Oi, what are you-"

It's forgein, still unpleasant somehow, nevertheless he cannot bring himself to turn you down. Slowly, his functioning arm glides over your back, subtly pulling you closer, movements hestitant out of uncertainty.

Drawing back, you look deeply into his eyes, smiling bright enough to reassure he isn't alone. Not anymore.

"Now isn't the time to talk. If you ever wish to get rid of the weights on your shoulders-"

A tad bit awkward - your face inches closer to his, your hot breath fanning against Law's cheeks - making him . . feel. Thus you continue with the sweetest of consoling hums:

"- know you can put your trust in me. Your sense of security is important to me and I will never force anything out of you. Just pay mind to your mental stability. Alright? We need you as the Surgeon of Death in battle right now . ."

Unexpected, lips, soft and sweet as honey, peck the round of his face, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. Law is left speechless, unsure how to respond, dumbfounded by your gentle gesture he cannot fathom if he ever received.

Besides Corazon's affection he earned, this is fairly different. He sighs as he sees you walking out the room to check the battle's situation outside.

Fingertips drift along the spot you placed your velvet skin upon. Why does he want you to do it again?

"Tch, this woman . ."

No, this is bad. He needs to forget this ever occured, but he couldn't, he never did.

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece roronoa zoro #one piece trafalgar law #fanfiction #fluff #light angst #zoro x reader #law x reader

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heich0e · 2 years

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"you can't eat blueberries for dinner."

the berry pinched between your thumb and forefinger pauses just at the threshold of your parted lips, your eyes flickering up to the man before you who watches you with his hands on his hips. you hold eye contact as you pop it into your mouth, something almost smug in the deliberate maintenance of his stare.

"god gave me free will and a chequing account, so actually i can do whatever i want."

rintarou doesn't find this funny–he does actually, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction of knowing that–and his expression stays passive as he watches you pop another little blue fruit into your waiting mouth. he continues to stare, and you continue to eat (ignoring him) until finally he sighs and shuffles away.

you have very little time to appreciate your victory before you hear a racket coming from the kitchen.

you wouldn't consider yourself a particularly intrusive person, by nature. you're generally happy to live and let live, especially when it comes to your longterm, live-in boyfriend: oftentimes it's better not knowing what suna's up to, for your own sanity. but your nosiness, and his noisiness, soon gets the better of you, and you shuffle over to the kitchen with your little bowl of blueberries in tow.

"what are you doing?" you ask, watching as rintarou rifles through the refrigerator in a crouch. there's something very primitive about his stance, hunter-gatherer even–though you know enough about him to know that were he a hunter-gatherer he'd be unlikely to survive a winter.

suna rises from his stoop with a strange assortment of ingredients in his arms, none of which really go together, and he looks at you proudly.

"i'm making you dinner."

you scrunch up your nose.

"uhhhhh-" you draw out the noise as your brain struggles for a proper response. "i'm not hungry."

he might even have believed you, if you hadn't popped a handful of blueberries into your mouth just after saying it.

rintarou drops his armful of ingredients onto the counter, looking at you pointedly.

"you can't eat blueberries for dinner," he repeats his earlier point firmly.

"why not?" you parry petulantly.

"blueberries aren't a meal. they're a fruit."

"they have antioxidants. they're anti-aging."

suna pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out a long, aggrieved breath. "you're the most pro-aging thing in my life."

you waggle a finger at him accusatorially. "don't blame me for your grey hairs. if anything blame atsumu–he beat me to you by like three years."

rintarou places his palms flat on the counter and leans towards you on the other side. "baby, let me make you dinner."

he's changed his tactic now, playing a different angle in his effort to persuade you. he's softened his tone, lets his lashes flutter in a demure blink, his lower lip pouts slightly. in any other argument it may have been enough to sway you.

there's just one problem:

suna rintarou cannot cook to save his own life.

this is not to say that rintarou can't feed himself, or relies on you to take care of him in that regard. suna's happy to eat whatever he manages to scrape (or singe) together for his own consumption, and does it without complaint. it's just that, in all the time the two of you've been together, you can count on your own ten fingers the number of times he's made a meal that could be considered edible (and that's under relatively lenient terms.)

it really only becomes an issue at times like these.

"rin," you start, choosing your words very carefully, "i'm really not that hungry."

"it's the first night all week you've been home in time for dinner," he argues, "shouldn't you eat a real meal?"

he's not necessarily wrong–much to your eternal dismay. you've been working late all week, and it's the first evening you've made it home while the sun is still up, let alone at an hour that could be considered a normal meal-time. but as a result of your long work days, you're left with no energy to even think about what you might want to eat, let alone prepare something. even just ordering takeout seems too involved for the meagre amount of brainpower you have.

ergo, blueberries.

"i'm too tired," you say, your shoulders slumping slightly. you set your (mostly eaten) bowl of blueberries down on the countertop in front of you.

suna watches your body language shift, sees the visible deflation of your frame. he approaches you, slinking up alongside and pressing himself into you, an arm snaking around your waist. it's comforting, protective even. it makes you feel nice.

suna tugs you into him a little bit further, and you don't have the energy (or the desire) to fight him off. you let him pull you into his arms, burrowing your face in the front of his t-shirt, and you feel his palms brushing comfortingly along your back.

"long week?" he murmurs into the top of your hair after a moment of letting him hold you. you nod as much as you can, squished against his chest. his hands stop patting along your spine, and (mortifyingly) you let out an involuntary sound of displeasure, he chuckles lightly and then resumes the motions, swaying you gently while he's at it.

it's kind of nice, just letting him hold you like that.

you might even call it romantic if you could ever consider yourself so sentimental.

emphasis on might though, because your stomach chooses that exact moment to rumble, shattering any semblance of ambiance that may have existed.

rintarou laughs, really laughs, when it happens. it's the kind of laugh where you know if you were to look at him his teeth would be bared and his eyes would be crinkling, his head tipped back in his mirth. but you don't look up at him, instead you groan and press your face even further into his chest to hide your shame.

suna's arms wrap around your waist, squeezing you tightly before hoisting you up–still laughing as he plunks you down onto the kitchen counter right between his forgotten ingredients and your abandoned blueberries, slotting himself between your legs.

he takes your chin in his hand and tilts your face up to meet his, your nose scrunched up in embarrassed indignity. he kisses your cheek, but he's grinning, so you mostly just feel the press of his teeth.

"at least one part of you is honest," he teases.

you can't really even argue with him, given the circumstances.

suna steps away for a moment, reaching up to the top of the refrigerator and snatching the stack of takeout menus to nagano's finest(-ish) eating establishments (at least within 6 blocks) that the two of you have collected over the years. he fans them out between his fingers and totes them over to you, slipping back between your thighs and holding them up in front of your nose.

"pick one," he says.

"rin, i'm too tired to-"

"just pick a menu and i'll do the rest," he assures you gently. "i'll order, pick up, and hand deliver it right to you on that couch,"–he nods his head over your shoulder in the direction of your living room–"all you have to do is pick one."

you peer at him for a moment, a little shocked–a little moved–by his thoughtfulness.

you place a hand over his and gently lower the fan of takeout menus between you, craning up to press your mouth to his. he seems a little bit surprised by the gesture, but happily reciprocates, parting his lips against your own and tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

you pull away before anything gets too heated, plucking a menu at random from his hand.

"this one," you say, clearing your throat and looking away coyly, a heat prickling through your cheeks.

rintarou laughs lightly, taking the menu you've chosen with a nod. he kisses your cheek again.

"whatever you want," he agrees, turning the menu over to see which restaurant you've chosen for your evening's meal.

"you're being really nice to me," you say to him quietly, appreciatively, as close to proper thanks as the two of you usually ever get.

he lifts his gaze from the menu to peek at you.

"duh," he replies, "i love you."

the heat in your cheeks intensifies, and you can't blame the feeling in your stomach on a pang of hunger.

you can't help but laugh at how plainly he says it.

"besides," he goes on to add, setting the menu down under his palm on the kitchen counter, dipping down until the two of you are nose to nose and your lips are almost brushing, "i'm getting dinner, so that means you're responsible for dessert."

#suna x reader #suna x you #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou x you #suna rintarou #suna drabble #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

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felassan · 2 months

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Dragon Age: The Veilguard Steam "About This Game" section -

"Enter the world of Thedas, a vibrant land of rugged wilderness, treacherous labyrinths, and glittering cities – steeped in conflict and secret magics. Now, a pair of corrupt ancient gods have broken free from centuries of darkness and are hellbent on destroying the world. Thedas needs someone they can count on. Rise as Rook, Dragon Age’s newest hero. Be who you want to be and play how you want to play as you fight to stop the gods from blighting the world. But you can’t do this alone – the odds are stacked against you. Lead a team of seven companions, each with their own rich story to discover and shape, and together you will become The Veilguard. Rally the Veilguard and defy the gods in Dragon Age™: The Veilguard, an immersive single-player RPG where you become the leader others believe in."

"UNITE A BATTERED WORLD Enter Thedas, a vibrant world of rugged wilderness, treacherous labyrinths, and glittering cities. The world is teetering on a knife’s edge while corrupt gods unleash havoc across the continent. Nations war, and factions splinter. Who will you trust? From the Arlathan Forest to the back alleys of Minrathous, this is a broken world. Your actions will affect the fate of Thedas forever. - Dramatic Single-Player Campaign — When corrupt Elven Gods threaten Thedas, lead the charge to save it. Rook isn’t afraid of a fight, no matter the odds. No matter the cost. - Vibrant & Diverse Environments — Enter a vivid fantasy world, and experience imaginative new locations as well as some you’ve heard of but never seen. - Larger-than-life Foes — Battle darkspawn, demons from beyond the Veil, dragons that rule the skies, and unique enemies as you advance your quest and fight for Thedas’s future."

"RALLY THE VEILGUARD Rally a team of 7 companions, each with rich lives and deep backstories. These are characters to befriend and even fall in love with. Among them, an assassin, a necromancer, a detective, each and all bringing their own expertise and unique abilities to the fight. You are never alone — decide who to take into battle, and together face down demons, dragons, and corrupt gods. - Recruit Distinct Companions — Your team is full of individuals with grim and wondrous histories, their own personal struggles and motivations, and rare skills that’ll help you survive. You’ll fight alongside Harding: The Scout, Neve: The Detective, Emmrich: The Necromancer, Taash: The Dragon Hunter, Davrin: The Warden, Bellara: The Veil Jumper, and Lucanis: The Mage Killer. - Rich Companion Stories — Deepen relationships with each companion and learn more about them on your adventures in Thedas. Your choices in these stories will impact how they develop, and completing them might unlock powerful abilities. Create memories with your team that will deepen your experiences in Thedas and give you more to fight for."

"BECOME THE LEADER OTHERS BELIEVE IN Select from different races and combat classes, customize your appearance, choose your character’s backstory, and begin your journey as Rook, Dragon Age’s newest hero. The choice is yours. On your adventures, you’ll gain new abilities and discover unique, powerful artifacts to enhance your own combat style. Brace yourself: there are tough decisions to be made, allies to inspire, and a fight that needs every sword, staff, and bow you can muster. - Be Who You Want To Be — Craft your personalized Rook with a robust character creator. Choose from a diverse set of appearance options for Human, Qunari, Dwarf, and Elf lineages. - Choose Your Way To Play — Select from 3 classes (Warrior, Mage, and Rogue), each with 2 distinct weapon types and unique abilities you can select between mid-combat. Experience new strategic depth as you combine fast-paced attacks, parries, and dodges with the companion ability wheel to exploit enemy weaknesses and seize victory with devastating combat combos. Customize a combat style that works for you. - Deep RPG Progression — Level up your Rook and companions with their own skill trees. Choose perks and combat abilities as you climb towards more powerful specializations. WARNING: See important flashing images and other health and safety information at www.ea.com/legal." [link]

[source: Steam]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #I think parts of this blurb might be new? maybe? 🤔#like some parts of it I definitely 100% remember like the glittering cities and teetering on a knife's edge #but some parts I don't feel familiar with #like factions splintering and who will you trust #and like i post/paste everything to my blog #and I can't find the bits I don't feel familiar with on here except in this post obviously #but I don't see anywhere on steamdb where it mentions the 'about' blurb was updated lately #🤔🤔#update: I think I found where it's from originally. :D dont mind me hhh

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sordidmusings · 8 months

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A Coronary Tale - Chapter 1 (Sanji x Reader)

Chapter Summary: You have been hiding away in The Wood, biding your time with the company of your three dear ravens. Fearing those who could find you should you leave your new home, you settled yourself deeply in with the trees and rocks and river, building a quiet routine. Unfortunately, you were wrong to expect no one else to enter the abandoned woods.

Themes and tropes: slow burn for her/lit fuze for him, hidden identities, witchcraft, curses, political pit of vipers, lost royalty, witch hunts, nonverbal gestures of love

A/N: Howdy doodie I finally done did this 😩 My addition to @fanaticsnail's Storyteller collab with the tale of The Three Ravens! I am shuffling stuff around quite a bit and I really hope that you all enjoy my changes and additions! What we have here is an absolute train wreck of a meet cute so that's a start lol The title is a reference to one of the songs I had in mind writing this and definitely the main one with lyrics, A Coronary Tale by Dana Sipos

@fanaticsnail also gifted me the mood board

Wordcount: ~5.2k

Warnings: fem!reader, bit of blood, descriptions of injury but no gore, you're like a little feral maybe, Sanji's kinda into that too at least

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Another twig snapped and your breathing stopped. Every nerve threading through your body pulled your mind from one place to the next: under the skin of your palms, scraping against rough bark; in the balls of your feet, throbbing from their recent pounding at the ground; in the depths of your lungs, burning for oxygen but turned still as stone in fear. Mostly, though, your mind lived in your ears, desperately sifting through the forest ambience and calling ravens for clues of your hunter.

Enough moments passed to release your lungs from their stalling and you began planning your next steps. Your burrow was far but that was good; you had more time to make sure he couldn’t track you there. You had been leading him East, away from your home, since he’d chased you across the river. The last you’d heard of him was due Northeast of you. If you headed exactly opposite him, you’d be back at your river, able to follow it down to your stuff and scramble back to your hide.

The weight of the risk settled down on you and kept your body from following through with your plan. What if he circled back to find your trail again? What if he was waiting for you at the river, knowing you’d likely collect your things?

You shoved your forehead into the scabbed bark of the great oak that hid you. The calming breath you hissed out held the hint of a whine and you cursed yourself further for the noise. Each moment he was more likely to turn back. Each moment he was closer to finding you.

Scrunching your face in a snarl towards your fear, you shoved yourself off the tree and ran westward.

Traversing the Wood was second nature to you by now, but you’d only flown through it with such great speed one time before. You moved much more like a fleeing elk than the panicked rabbit you were then, even with your fright measuring close to that of your memory. Your eyes and body knew the trappings of the woods before your mind could even name them; thorny vines were ducked, wayward branches were parried, felled trees were vaulted. Even your long dress wasn’t a hindrance; you simply gathered the skirts high and tight to free your legs and keep the cloth from stretching branches. The only thing slowing your race home was your adrenaline beginning to weaken beneath the force of your exhaustion.

You burst forth from the Wood’s edge, scattering leaves and dirt and noise in your bid for speed over stealth. You could see the river close now, only a stretch of stony shore between you and safety. Not a single stride shortened despite the shrieking of your muscles or the begging of your lungs. You were beginning to boil in the heat of your blood pumping in your hands, feet, and head, but you would not slow, not even with the new glare of the sun making the air feel even more hostile. Your flight would continue as long as the flutters and caws of the ravens urged you on.

“Wait!”

You shrieked in response and slid right into the swirling current before you. Still furious and frigid with late spring melt, the river overwhelmed you, forcing a gasp from you at the shock to your system. Water flooded into your open mouth and nose, choking you as you spun until up was left, down, and sideways. Despite flailing for a chance at breath and life, your mind kept screaming, West, west, that came from the west!

Your saturated dress sunk you deeper in the toiling water. It gave the chaotic current more purchase to rip and tug you in every direction, bouncing your limbs off all the river’s hidden weapons. Rocks tripped your sandaled feet at every attempt to find footing and thudded against your shins and arms with each turn in the water. Skeletal branches from long submerged trees scraped at you and grabbed at your skirts. Each new hold on the cloth only ended with another old seam ripping and releasing you back to the whims of the river.

Reigning in your sense, you curled into a ball to keep your feet from shoving beneath a rock, trapping you, and to protect your head from smashing in on any of the great boulders that lurked under the water's surface. Just when your world was fuzzing away at the edges, one of those boulders found you and punched the last bubbles of air straight from your lungs.

Before the current could take you further, you used the last of your strength to spin and scrabble at the rough stone’s surface. The moment you got a grip you summoned every ounce of life in you and heaved.

With a crouping cough you broke the surface of the water. Great lungfuls of cold water scraped their way out of you. Through your heaving and gasping you drug your upper body to splay across the sun baked stone. It burned into your cheek and you couldn’t help but be thankful for the distraction from your raw throat and skinned fingertips. Everything but that sensation began to swirl and drift away into a distant fog.

Within that fog was a warm embrace. It wormed around your chest and lifted you away from the grounding heat under your cheek. You whimpered, agitating your tender throat, but couldn’t bring yourself to do anything further to protest. Sweet shushing soothed your mind, quickly replacing the comfort of your stone and covering the distant cawing. As you floated away, the steady rhythm of each hush set your sore lungs to breathe in soft waves.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

The afternoon sun pierced right through your eyes the moment you opened them. Wincing them back shut, you changed your goal to taking stock of your injuries. Your whole body was throbbing, muddling the deeper hurts in a constant protest that sounded with each beat of your heart. Through the cacophony, you heard your right ribs screaming, your throat moaning, and your fingers sobbing.

You flexed your hands slowly to test them. They trembled and ached at your orders but followed through with no great spike in pain. Next, you shifted your torso in a minute rock from side to side. Your ribs punished you spitefully for the motion, but there was no telltale crackle of bone and you were able to keep breathing throughout your shimmying. Lastly, you began sucking in a deep breath to attend to your throat and lungs. You began hacking halfway through, earning more ire from your battered side.

“You’re awake!,” a relieved voice chimed. Gentle fingers traced your face, continually brushing from your skin into your hair. “Thank goodness. You haven’t been out long; it's only been a minute since I pulled you from the river.”

Your heart kick-started again, not caring the least bit about the man’s attempts to seem non-threatening. His claim as your savior did little too; wishing you death and wishing you harm were two separate things. Your pain quieted to a whisper as your awareness shifted to scouring the space around you for information. The ground under you was solid and your palms felt warm stone. The constant swish and rumble of rapids filled the air. I’m still on the riverside. Calm breathing sounded quietly from your left, only a foot beyond the fingers still caressing your face. He’s already recovered.

“You gave me quite the scare there, Bichette. I thought the river took you,” he whispered to you. “I’m so glad I ran back to the river instead of continuing in the woods.” The genuine care and worry in his tone only made your distrust grow. You instead trusted the continued caws from the treeline. His touch disappeared and you heard the grind of his shoes against the rocky ground as he stood up.

“Keep resting, Mademoiselle, I’m just going a short way down the river’s edge to see if I can spot us an easy way back.”

You counted each step he took away from you, every crackle on stone ramping your anticipation higher and higher. The roaring of your blood in your ears grew to match that of the river but his footsteps still cut through. You slowly bent your knees up to remove your sandals and plant your feet on the ground. Despite their exhaustion, your muscles listened when you tensed them. Your count was nearly there. Thirty! You flung yourself onto hands and knees then bolted.

“Stop! Please!”

You were much slower than before, having to drag the weight of your water-logged clothes, half-drowned body and freshly abused skeleton with you. Your lungs couldn’t keep up with even the diminished speed of your strides and you had to fight with each breath not to cough, yet the urgent calls of the ravens circling you pushed you on. The man’s thumping steps were quickly catching up, but you were almost at the treeline.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, chérie, please stop,” he tried again, begging through panting breaths.

One raven sped ahead of you and landed on a large branch with another loud call. You zeroed in on his choice - an old maple spreading high over its neighbors. Its branches started far above the ground, but that was no problem for you, even now. Your switch from sprint to climb was seamless; one step launching you from between the maple's snaking roots and the next propelling you just that much higher with a bare foot catching deeply against its sturdy bark. Ignored the warnings from your hands, you used knots and lumps for handholds, hauling yourself higher and letting your feet follow the same path. You didn’t let yourself slow until you were well mingled in the smaller branches of the tree, nearly forty-five feet in the air. The way the distance shrunk your pursuer gave you a small bit of comfort.

“I’d climb up there but you’d just jump out, wouldn’t you?” he called up to you.

As if to prove his point, you widened your stance and bent low, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. The three ravens flapped their wings in threat of flight. It was all mostly for show; your body was at the end of its rope.

“Ah, Bichette, what has you so scared?” he asked, voice and eyes mourning.

You bared your teeth at him and hoped that he was too far to see your watery eyes. The aches of your body were becoming too much; your bruised ribs stunted every breath, your flayed hands trembled and bled, your scraped toes weren’t far behind their damaged state, your abused throat burned at every scrape of air in and out, and your shaken head, as well as all below it, thudded with pain. The worst of your worries though was the wooziness creeping in on the edges of your mind in the wake of your adrenaline rush. Also the man below you, wrapped in his absurdly expensive clothes, which were just as soaked as your torn rags.

“You’re a strong one, I’ll give you that.”

You held your shaky snarl. The ravens flapped and cried.

“But even you need food, water, and rest after a chase like that. You nearly drowned,” he pressed, desperately trying to make you see reason. “I’m not going to hurt you, Mademoiselle, I promise.”

You continued to stare down at him with all the ferocity of a caged animal, and he sighed.

“You’re also going to want to get out of those wet clothes. Your laundry on the shore should be dried by now and I dropped my food there as well. There’s plenty to share. I can help you back to go get it,” he persuaded. “I’d go get it myself, but I don’t want you to disappear.”

You’d hold my clothes hostage to find me again, you grumbled internally. The three ravens stilled and took their time looking down at the man. After their analyzing, they took off, leaving you feeling truly cornered and alone. The man saw your face crumble as you watched them go and he ached for your sorrow.

“Well, neither of us are going anywhere, so-” he blew out a long breath and looked down at the tree’s base “-might as well get to know each other.” He found a spot he deemed worthy and settled into the cradle between two large swells of roots. He craned his head back to check on you and found you still staring down at him. He couldn’t decide if he preferred your teary glare to the lost look you sent the birds; both had him wounded.

“I’ll start,” he offered patiently, looking down to his hands fidgeting with his gold rings between his bent knees. “My name’s Sanji.”

He waited a good twenty seconds but received no response. He looked back up and you stared down.

“Can I have your name, chérie?” he pleaded gently.

He was met with more silence.

“Okay,” Sanji relented. “Okay, Mademoiselle, that’s fine. I’ll talk for both of us for now.”

He settled in deeper against the tree, continued his fidgeting, and wished he had his cigarettes.

“I’m a chef; feeding people is my greatest joy,” he started earnestly. “I was sailing the seas, feeding a patchwork crew. Our captain managed to find trouble everywhere he went, dragging us along with him toward his ridiculous dream.”

Sanji paused. You watched as he raked a hand through his shiny blonde hair and attentively took in the way his face softened into a fond smile. Craning further for a better look, you managed to see the sad scrunch in his brows conflicting with the upturn of his lips.

“He was dragging us towards our own foolish dreams, too, though. I want to find the All Blue,” he admitted. He looked up in time to see your incredulous look and the curious tilt of your head. They made him burst out in bright laughter at the dramatic shift in expression from you. You hated how pretty he looked like that.

“Yeah, that’s what I expected; most people think it's a fairytale.” He calmed his chuckles and asserted delicately, as much to himself as to you, “I know it’s out there though. It has to be.”

You fought hard against this man’s charms chipping away at your suspicions. Your complaining injuries helped keep you cautious, even through the strong pull of his placating eyes.

“Our captain would like you. Anyone with your tenacity catches his eye. He’d probably want to add you to his collection,” Sanji joked lightly. “You would fit right in; our navigator and archaeologist always respect a strong woman like themselves. Our musician and engineer are welcoming to new company. Our sniper and doctor might fear you a bit though.” He took a moment to think before looking down and grumbling, “And that damn mosshead would complain, but when isn’t he.”

You were about to start tuning him out, needing to defend yourself from being endeared, when his next words cemented your curiosity to the forefront of your mind.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now. I’m stuck here.”

He sounded so heartbroken. You knew that sound; had heard it leaking from your father and brothers - from your own lips.

“My family-” he spit the word with potent vitriol “-found a use for me. Pulled me back here with a threat against my real family.”

You diligently tried to see the emotions in his face, but he kept it firmly turned from you, hiding away. You cursed him for adding a sad ache to your chest as if you didn’t already have enough pains. Looking again at his fine clothes, you began to wonder if they felt more like a trap than a trophy to him. Sanji turned back up to you and his heart stuttered at the first glimpses of compassion on your face. It made you even more beautiful.

“I-I’m sorry, chérie, I didn’t mean to make this a therapy session.” He chuckled awkwardly at his own foible, frustrated with himself for dumping his emotions on you but happy with the result. You decided with great conflict that his unsure smile was just as pretty as his laugh-scrunched face. He let that smile slide off of him, meeting you instead with a vulnerably relaxed face that looked so intrinsically forlorn. Seeing his bare humanity, you needed no further prompting.

Sanji watched in bewildered awe as you pursed your lips at him and sent him a warbling whistle. Your imitation was perfect; it sounded exactly like a robin greeting the sun.

“What…” he trailed off, still taken aback by the strange but sweet turn. “What does that mean?”

You finally allowed yourself to relax your posture and settled your beaten body to splay across the tree’s limbs. Your legs dangled around a few branches, allowing them some much needed relief, and you laid on your front, making it easier to keep your watchful eyes on the man below you. Bedding your forehead into your forearm, you offered a miniscule smile from tight lips before repeating the birdsong.

“It’s beautiful,” Sanji complimented. “Fitting for such a striking lady.”

You scrunched your nose disapprovingly at him and whistled out a piercing warning call.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed. “I just can’t help myself with-”

Avian shrieks split the air and you shot up to find their source. You easily ignored the whimper the action forced from you, but Sanji struggled to do the same.

“Ma chérie, please be careful-”

You spotted six flapping wings and laughed in bright joy, fully distracting Sanji from his worries. The flying forms looked odd; one had a bulbous blob by its head and the other two had billowing streams of color falling from them. You recognized the streams as cloth as they grew closer, but the final item remained a mystery. That raven landed the easiest, having nothing that would snag on leaves or branches. The other two were having much more trouble.

You giggled again at their hijinx, fully amused by their frustrated crying and hopping and flapping at the edge of the tree. To help them, you began weaving your way out towards them until you were at the limits of the branches’ strength to hold your weight. You reached your arm out as far as it would go, feeling the straining stretch in each joint, but still fell short of bridging the gap between you. The whole time, Sanji was calling up fretful and concerned warnings, which you easily ignored.

Despite your attempts to help, the two raven still just fretted about and progressed no closer to a solution. A shrill whistle cut their actions short and captured their attention. You held up two fingers to them then pointed to the smaller garment. They stayed still and you frowned at them with all the practiced disappointment of a school teacher. You repeated the actions with more gusto, this time finishing the display with a hand waving them toward you. Suddenly getting the memo, both ravens began working the same cloth in your direction, repeating the process of free-shift-snag until it was within your reach.

You grabbed the familiar green cloth and held it in front of you, recognizing an oversized men’s shirt. The ravens continued their work until you were holding a pair of loose beige pants too. You gave the two birds a loving pet and a quick kiss on their bowed heads in thanks. You slinked your way down to about thirty feet from the ground, seeking more open space between the branches to change out of your sopping and torn dress.

Sanji took in the whole exchange with wonder.

“You really are the Witch of the Wood,” he whispered reverently.

Your face twisted with confusion at the title and you rapidly shook your head.

“But your ravens!” he argued. “They all say the Witch has three ravens for familiars - that they help her spy on all who enter this stretch of forest.”

Well… he’s close, you admitted to yourself. You squeezed the excess water out of your ruined skirts (you hoped some would land on his head), removed your freezing underwear, and slid the pants on under your skirts. The top went on next, acting as a cover for you as you squirmed your arms out of the sleeves of your dress. Once that was accomplished, you began shoving the heavy material through the neck of the shirt. The process was frustrating; the wet material clung to you with every move, forcing you to make more and more and agitate your wounds further and further. When you finally managed to get it all out of the shirt, you shoved your arms through their holes and pulled the dress over your head.

Luckily, your quick work left a minimal transfer of moisture from your old outfit to your new one. The relief of mostly dry clothes felt even greater than you imagined, and you took great pleasure in balling the ruined fabric up and tossing it to ricochet its way down the tree, landing next to Sanji with a great plop. Staring at him again, you turned bitter at the reminder of the title he gave you. I am no witch. You wished you aimed for his head.

The deep crimson smears and fingerprints Sanji spotted on your discarded clothes refreshed his worry. He had gotten far too distracted trying to charm you and even more distracted once he saw your smile. Sometimes he regretted his overwhelming soft spot for women. Then he would see another woman and have that thought overwhelmed. C’est la vie.

“Bichette,” he cooed, hoping again to win you by charm, “ma chérie, please let me take you back. We need to get those wounds looked at.”

You looked down your nose at him then pointedly turned away, looking instead to the final raven bearing a gift for you. He was still holding tight to a cloth knot at the top of a parcel, but he had adjusted to rest its weight on the branch below him while he waited for your attention. You grabbed the parcel from him, immediately noting the intricate weave of the fabric beneath your fingers, matching well with the delicate patterns unfolding throughout it. This must belong to the expensive man at the foot of the tree. A shame to get bloody fingerprints on his fineries, you thought with sadistic glee. Serves him right for chasing me through my woods.

Untying the cloth proved easier on your fingers than your wardrobe change, they had turned to a monotonous pounding instead of the sharp alerts of pain sometime during your first challenge. Opening the wrapping revealed two containers of food, a smaller one sat atop the larger. First popping the top option open, you found two perfectly prepared pieces of meat on the bone. They were seared to perfection, browned just so, and smelled of gentle spices, just enough to enhance the natural flavor of the meat. You snapped the container back closed so you could check in the other. This one contained the most mouth-watering curry you’d ever seen or smelled, nestled in a thick pool next to fluffy white rice. You looked back and forth between the food and the man below with a raised brow.

“A quick lunch I whipped up,” Sanji responded to your unspoken question. You rolled your eyes at him, doubtful that anything in this meal could be made quickly. Maybe the rice. You wrote his dismissal off as showboating in a further attempt to woo you.

Having no silverware, you prepped your fingers as best as you could by dabbing them on the rich cloth, licking them to wet any dried blood or dirt, and repeating the process until only the barely there leak of fresh blood remained on your raw fingertips and broken nails. The process had them stinging angrily at you again, leaving you biting desperately on your tongue to hold back whimpers that still pushed through. Thankfully, it didn’t take very long. The river water had rinsed them mostly clean, leaving only the layered mess of blood and the dirt from your climb.

Taking a clump of sticky rice, you scooped up a bit of the fragrant orange curry. The taste was just as divine as the smell and you moaned at the best food you’d had in years. You bit into a piece of the scrumptiously tender meat next, recognizing sea king, and you were yet again reminded of Sanji’s opulence. You had to admit to his good taste though; the meat from this variety of sea king leaned much more towards chicken than fish in both texture and flavor, absorbing the bold mix of spices in the curry perfectly. Judging by the vibrant tint to the meat, he set it in a well-crafted marinade as well. Had he not told you he was a chef before you got the food, you would have never believed this was the work of his own hands.

“At least I know you’re getting a good meal,” Sanji said. You were angered and endeared by his honesty. “I came to The Wood for a break. Before the rumors of the Wretched Witch of the Wood, this land and its river were known for their beauty. I can see why now.” He looked up to you with warm eyes and an affectionate smile. You snubbed your nose at him.

“Before I found you, my plan was to find the calm stretch of river, wade around, then sit and eat where absolutely nothing and no one needs me. I chose the food to bring the memory of some of my friends with me.”

You slowed your ravenous shoveling to stare at what was left of the curry with guilt twisting your gut. If it were just food you were taking, you’d happily rob this rich stranger blind, but memories were a different story. Your gaze roamed your three ravens, earning inquisitive coos from them with your misty eyes. You centered your gaze back on the massacred curry, feeling hot shame smother over you. A gentle beak nudged at your cheek.

Sanji let himself sit in the quiet following his confession. He was glad you slowed down, fearing you’d upset your stomach with a quick and filling meal, but he did have to admit, it warmed his heart how much the messy display reminded him of his captain.

While he had no great time to appreciate the beauty of the scenery before, he found the time now. Trees old and new clustered lovingly around each other in a long stretch, interwoven with blooming hedges of mountain laurel and patches of lacy ferns. Moss hugged the damp places of The Wood, keeping them warm and alive. The earth here was not soft; it was made of packed dirt, rock falls, giant boulders, and wrestling roots, but sweeps of dead leaves did their best to cushion the path of each resident.

The river that had previously felt so threatening and cruel now soothed him with its endlessly running waters. He was mesmerized as his eyes followed the shifts from a shrouding deep blue to frothing white and back again. The cycle felt endless and inevitable, stable and sure, outside the reach of time or the shortfalls of consciousness. It made him small, it made his problems small, and he found peace.

The whisper of rustling feathers broke him from his blissful mindlessness. Sanji turned to see one of your ravens nudging the mound of his tied cloth toward him. The reminder of you made him realize he hadn’t heard a peep from you since he started his zoning. He found you had fully turned your back to him and you were staying statue-still. Now slightly concerned, he reached for the cloth only to stop with a surprised yelp when the raven pecked his hand. It cawed mockingly at him before flying right back to your side.

Reaching cautiously despite the raven’s distance, Sanji grasped his cloth. Again, he looked at your bloodied fingerprints with a clenching heart, but he brushed past it as best as he could and untied the limp fabric. Laying out the cloth, he saw that it held the smaller of his food containers. Opening that, he found the two pieces of meat on the bone untouched. His cheeks ached with the force of his new smile.

“Thank you, ma chérie, you’re very kind,” he called up to you. He shook his head at your lack of response and began munching happily.

Hearing that he had begun his own meal, you were able to stomach the rest of your food.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

The sun had long since bruised the sky, its wounds showing the end of their healing in purples and blues instead of oranges and pinks. Sanji still sat stubbornly and dutifully at his post under your tree. You had succumbed to sleep a while ago, your body much too ravaged and worn to fight the need for rest any longer.

Seeing you’d fallen under, Sanji tried to scale the tree to bring you down and carry you back to get help, but each attempt was swiftly thwarted by stabbing beaks and talons. They first started as more of a threat, tugging at his clothes, but as he got bolder in his attempts so did the ravens. They found their courage to fight him and would not back down. Instead, Sanji backed off fully after a beak opened his hand for first blood and the other two readied their screeching weapons at each of his eyes.

Retreating from them, Sanji took his time to collect you some fresh water from a fast-flowing piece of the river in his rinsed container. He used the clean inside of his cloth to dry the excess from the outside of the sealed container before laying it carefully on the expensive fabric at the base of your tree like an offering. He stood before it and looked at you through the time passing around his frozen stance, wishing he could just decide what was best for you. Your ravens seemed to think it was not him, nor his wishes to take you away. They were adamant that you were best left to rest as the tree cradled you. He supposed this forest was your home, it fit for its pieces to care for you.

Then again, it was the very river of these woods that so readily snatched you up to steal you from the living.

Sanji waited until the sky had grown much darker than the deep blue of his eyes in the waning light to leave you. He feared more for your future than finding his way across the river and out of The Wood in the dark. Before he could tear himself away though, he had to take you in one more time, hoping the vision will last him until the next time he lays eyes on you. He grieved for the state of you; not just your new hurts but your patchy clothes, your frayed hair, your callused hands. He felt especially for the prominent ribs that greeted him when he wrapped his arms around you to free you from the river. His mind toiled with worries and indecision his whole trek back to the castle.

“Oh, Bichette, how am I going to help you?”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

End Notes: Robins can symbolize renewal, new beginnings, and finding joy as they are one of the first signs of spring. They are also part of the dawn chorus, announcing the sun each morning.

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