#i didn't think i was going to slam out this chapter as quickly as i did but the power of nice words and yuri pulled me through..... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingkat12 · 8 months ago

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say it (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, mentions of sex, jealousy-schemes, depictions of violence, blood, angst, fluff, Roman using his powers for no good as always

summary: many questions have been left unanswered-- is Roman really going to take revenge on the girls that hurt you, and will the avalanche of events lead him to finally tell you the words you've been longing to hear?

word count: 9,208 (holy fuck)

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seven minutes in heaven masterlist

a/n: celebrating 400 followers (???) with an extra long chapter!! thank you all again for the support of this series!! all the comments have warmed my heaaarttt omg hope you enjoy!!!<3333 love u!!

Roman had always been highly unpredictable-- but this, I should've expected.

My hands trembled as I reached for the brand new phone in my locker, realizing he had bought me the most recent model he could find. As I picked it up, I slowly pried away the attached post-it note;

taking care of things - the one thing I do well

Knowing I had asked him not to do this, I could only sigh as I tucked my new phone away in my pocket. The day had certainly started on an odd note, but my main concern wasn't this-- it was rather the question of what Roman had done after he stormed away from my house that kept my mind occupied.

Roman could be scary, and I was aware of this. But gifting me a brand new phone for several hundred dollars? It just proved I could never foresee his next moves. This only made me more anxious to learn why he had left my place in such a hurry shortly after seeing the cuts Jasmine had left on the back of my hands.

As I closed the door to my locker, a group of girls passed me, their whispers catching my attention. I turned around, ready to face off with another group of bitches just like yesterday, all until I realized what they were whispering about. It wasn't me.

I followed their gazes which were focused on something further down the hall, and it was at this moment that I spotted the man who hadn't answered any of my panicked messages or calls-- instead, he stood talking to Jasmine.

Thankfully, it seemed to be quite a heated conversation, unlike how he usually spoke to girls. Roman's brows were drawn together in anger, nearing her slowly in his typical tactic of intimidation, clearly telling her off; I stood frozen by my locker, not bothering to suppress my growing smile at the sight. My stomach fluttered with warmth as I realized that he was standing up for me.

... However, my smile quickly faltered as I caught the change in Jasmine's face. Her lips had been pursed, her finger had been drawn forward to point at him in defense, but her whole fight-back demeanor faded within the snap of a second. It was as though she lost all the blood in her face, eyes not blinking as they met Roman's intense gaze-- everything about her state reminded me of mine yesterday, when I suddenly couldn't control my own words when I looked into his eyes and he interrogated me about my wounds.

I couldn't deny how dangerous Roman looked, watching as he told her one last, short thing, before harshly nudging her shoulder and disappearing out of view.

Jasmine stood by her locker, completely frozen. I wondered whether she was still breathing, all until she finally moved. She slowly turned to stare into her reflection in the mirror she had hung up on her locker, still not blinking.

I didn't think I could shriek the way I did-- the extent of my voice was something I discovered as Jasmine unexpectedly slammed her head against the mirror, a loud thud echoing through the hall.

I wasn't the only one who had been caught by surprise, and I watched the people around her jump away in a mix of both fear and shock.

Jasmine didn't look like herself; her eyes were dull, hollow, as she brought her head to her locker once more, now leaving bloody cracks in the mirror.

I recognized Jasmine's posse of girls flocking to make their way through the crowds, and Letha appeared almost out of nowhere to grab her and pull her away from her locker. A shrill cry followed from Jasmine, who was clawing at Letha as though possessed. I watched as she fought, yelled-- I couldn't look at it anymore. I couldn't look at the tiny trickle of blood running down her nose, similar to Roman yesterday, or the small shards of glass she had managed to get lodged into her forehead.

I turned away, clasping a hand over my mouth as I squeezed my eyes shut; something told me that the sight of the whole thing would burn itself into my mind forever.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Oh, how right I was. I kept replaying the whole scene, but I had oddly enough fixated on something that wasn't the blood-- suddenly, my mind kept replaying how ridiculously hot Roman looked leaned over Jasmine with his intense, big eyes.

I did my best not to think too much about it. I couldn't; it all brought back thoughts of how soft his lips were against mine.

Speaking of Roman, I didn't expect to talk to him at all today. He still hadn't answered any of my messages, so I assumed he needed time away to cool off. However, I knew I had him cornered when I accidentally walked into the chemistry lab, catching him in the middle of... an experiment?

This was certainly a new side of Roman which I hadn't seen before-- I had never seen him do anything school-related, as I had gathered he didn't care much for it from our study sessions at Letha's place before everything happened. But here he was, so consumed in whatever he was doing that he didn't acknowledge that I had closed the door, leaving us alone in a confined space.

I pressed my back against the cold door, watching him from afar. Something about how calm he was made me uneasy; why was he so focused? Roman, captivated by the small, compact container before him, kept his eyes on his work as he spoke; "Are you lost?"

My brows drew together as I watched him pour a liquid gel into the container which contained what looked like blood-- he was so meticulous that it gave me an inkling that he had done this several times before. "No," I mumbled, clearing my throat as I fought my queasiness at the sight of his experiment. "What are you doing?"

Roman barely reacted to my question, busy with putting the container into a machine nearby. "Genetic testing,"

"Since when do you know how to do that?"

Annoyed by my continuous interruptions, Roman's gloved hand put the blood-box into the machine and pressed a button to start it, finally looking up to meet my nervous, flickering gaze. "You certainly have a lot of questions today," he huffed, adjusting his protective glasses. "My turn. How are your hands?"

I suddenly became very aware of the cuts on the back of my hands, and my eyes diverted down to watch my thumbs nervously brush over my wounded skin. "They'll heal. I'm not too worried about it," My next inquiry was one I was wary to say, but it became obvious to me that I had to; "I'm more worried about why you stormed off like that last night."

Roman didn't move a muscle, watching me with a blank look on his face. "You told me to go,"

"Come on," I was reminded of what my state had led me to yesterday; the way I wanted to push Roman away, to never see him again. But here I was, standing before him with no greater wish than to run to him. "I was worried sick that you'd do something... You looked like you were ready to kill someone." It was at this moment that I dared to look back at him and suddenly caught a glimpse of the hickey I had left on the side of his throat-- I immediately felt a familiar warmth creep up my cheeks, leaving me with a flustered, reddening expression on my face. "What did you do?"

Roman tilted his head to the side, scanning my state. "I haven't done anything--"

"Then why did you?--"

"Major," Roman bit down on his lower lip, trying to suppress his shameless grin. The familiar spark in his green eyes returned, and I could see it perfectly clear through his protective gear-- no matter how worried his words made me, that look never failed to make the butterflies in my stomach explode all over the place.

I had to pull myself together, but my voice came out frail and shaky; "You're kidding, right?"

I recognized Roman's wish to remain reactionless and the way he fought the rounding out of his big, green eyes. It seemed to dawn on him that I was genuinely concerned. "... Sure. But what did you think of what happened this morning with Jasmine?"

"What?" That was certainly unexpected-- "Why?" I wanted to ask what he had said to her, but something told me he wouldn't tell me the truth about it anyway. Instead, I opted to find comfort in the fact that he had confronted her for my sake.

Roman shrugged before his attention moved back to the machine. It was beeping rather obnoxiously, a sound impossible to ignore. He got back to work, pressing a few buttons here and there; "Just wondering. Did it not make you feel good to see her like that?"

I couldn't put my finger on why he was asking these peculiar questions. "Well... No? I was mostly scared. I've never seen anyone have a nervous breakdown before, and I didn't expect something like that to happen to Jasmine,"

"Nervous breakdown," Roman echoed, checking some numbers he had written down on a sheet nearby. Something told me he was upset I wasn't over the moon about it. "Don't you feel like she deserved it?"

It was mind-boggling to hear him talk like this, with such nonchalance about a girl slamming her head bloody-- I had suppressed the memory of this side of him. The inclination to anything pain-related, the scorching look of amusement in his green eyes at the sight of my flaring anxiety, and the infamous fucking needles. How he had gotten hard when seeing how scared I was when we hid from Letha on our first date.

I hated every reminder of this side of Roman. Hated it.

"I don't think anyone deserves to be driven to that," I mumbled, picking at my nails out of nervous habit. "I didn't know she was dealing with anything that would lead her to do that. Maybe that's why she acted out yesterday? I hope that's the reason, and not because Letha sent her to do it... " With a sigh, I brought my hands up to rub my temples. "It was so damn scary... The whole thing. And ever since, my head has been hurting like crazy."

Taking in the silence that ensued, Roman tapped the spot next to him on the counter-- come here.

I held my breath as I made my way over with shy steps, hoisting myself up on the cold surface. I watched as Roman removed his gloves along with the protective glasses, now reaching forward to part my legs and make space for himself between them. He listened to the hitch of my breath as he laid his hands on my hips, his calculated gaze scanning mine whilst pulling me towards him.

By instinct, I rested my hands on his broad shoulders, taking in the moment our breaths became shared. Right now, it was impossible to believe that I had made the wrong choice in choosing him over my friendship with Letha-- something about the tenderness with which he was touching me, told me he was changing right before my eyes.

With baby steps, of course.

Roman seemed to be taking pity on my state, softly nudging his upturned nose against mine. "Try not to think about it too much," he breathed, watching as I closed my eyes to savour the moment. "Trust that I know how to take care of this."

No, no, no-- "Please don't say that," I pulled away, my hands slowly reaching for his face, searching for the intent behind his eyes. "I know you well enough to know that you're capable of things I don't want to get into, and honestly? You scare me when you say shit like that."

Roman's brows drew together in a troubled look; "I scare you?"

"Yeah," I breathed, stroking my thumbs across his cheeks. "You and your infamous needles and stuff."

A drawn-out groan ensued-- "Again with the fucking needles!--"

"Roman!" My grip on his face hardened in an attempt to keep his focus. I watched his green eyes widen, clearly not used to being handled like that. "Whatever it is, please snap out of it! You can't even tell me that you're into me, but you're ready to go back to being all dark, and for what? My honour?"

Something in Roman's eyes changed-- For once in his life, he was stunned, unable to utter a proper response.

Overcome by a newfound sense of confidence in his unproclaimed feelings for me, I gently twisted my fingers into the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a soft kiss. Roman let out a relieved sigh against my lips, his grip on my hips tightening as he moved me closer to the edge of the counter, closer to him.

It took a lot of willpower to disconnect our kiss, the warmth of his touch luring me in. "I'm serious," I said, nudging his nose as I felt his breath hot against my upper lip. "I can stand up for myself--"

"Shut up," Roman's lips came crashing against mine with a hunger I hadn't expected, especially knowing we could be walked in on at any moment. But I gave in, letting his greedy hands travel further to grab my ass, pressing me against him as his tongue moved softly against mine.

Usually, I'd taste the hints of his cinnamon cigarettes, but today there was nothing-- I knew he didn't smoke the days he knew he had to be focused. There wasn't much time to ponder why, especially now that our kiss heated further.

As I felt Roman drive his teeth into my lower lip, I could only whimper against him. My grip on his hair tightened in an attempt to pull him even closer, but the sharp sting of the tug only fueled Roman's obvious growing need for more.

It was building in me as well-- in my anxious daze, I had forgotten how good it felt to feel him against me. How thrilling every touch, every kiss, every little breath was. And if anyone had told me a month ago that Roman Godfrey would be grabbing my ass in the chemistry lab, I would've probably fainted; which I struggled not to do right now.

And I knew we would've gone further, beyond all restrictions and rules of the school, had the door not opened with a loud creak.

Squeaking, I pushed Roman away out of pure instinct. He didn't go very far, feet planted to the ground, as his hands trailed down to rest comfortably at my thighs when he met the eyes of the intruder of our moment.

Letha still held onto the doorknob as though her life depended on it, knuckles nearly turning white at the sheer force-- she inhaled sharply, not yet able to exhale.

I felt like an icicle, frozen by fear on the counter after meeting the eyes of my ex-best friend. Roman's hands on my thighs burned, the realization of being caught in such a compromising position making me want to burst into flames like the witches of Salem.

Roman took the lead, catching onto the intense staring-contenst which ensued between me and his cousin; "Did you need anything?" he asked, gaze hardening.

Letha cleared her throat, letting go of the door. I couldn't help but notice the slight shake of her hands. "I need to talk to you, Ro,"

"I don't want to talk,"

She sighed, visibly fed up with her stubborn cousin; "We didn't finish this conversation yesterday. Don't act like we're not still talking because she's here,"

Oh? I held my breath, my nervous gaze moving to Roman. He remained unfazed, but the minuscule twitch of his eye revealed that he didn't enjoy that information being aired out. "What do you want?"

"To talk. It's important," Letha glanced at me once more, an unintelligible emotion glossing over her eyes as she looked back at me; "Could you please leave?"

It took a few seconds before I realized she was talking to me. The coldness in her voice broke my heart all over-- I didn't have the energy to fight her. Uncomfortable and mortified by the situation, I nodded to myself before sliding off the counter, Roman's hand never leaving me. He now held onto my arm, not letting me go just yet. Leaning down to my level, he made sure he had my attention before he spoke in a hushed tone; "My number is already in your phone. Give me a text when you're free for lunch,"

My heart leaped up into the air as Roman pressed his lips against my forehead, the sincerity of the gesture flustering me beyond any previous point-- it was especially meaningful now that he did it in front of Letha. Realizing there was no going back, I got up on my toes to give him a short, soft kiss, feeling the plushness of his lips against mine before making my way to the door.

Passing Letha might've taken less than a second, but it felt like hours. I felt her green eyes burn into me, a sense of shock apparent in her body. We exchanged a short look, and I wondered whether I imagined the look of longing that so clearly streaked across her face; I didn't allow myself to dwell on it.

After closing the door behind me, I realized I had been holding my breath. I took a moment, regaining my composure before I got ready to kick off the door-- all until it dawned on me how clearly I could hear Letha's voice through the wall. My heart stopped, realizing I was about to do something I never thought I'd do; I pressed my ear against the door, mentally beating myself up for doing this.

"I see you guys are still getting along," Letha said, her fingers tapping against the door. "That's longer than any of the other friends you've stolen from me."

Roman groaned-- I didn't need to see him to know that he was rolling his eyes. "Get to the point,"

I drove my body closer to the door to hear them better, hearing Letha stepping away from the other side of it to come closer to her cousin. "Tell me why I had to drive Jasmine to school today because the wheels of her car had been punctured? Or even worse, how she got a note under her bedroom door saying she should watch her back?"

There was a long silence before Roman finally answered, a hint of humor in his voice; "... Maybe she should, then?--"

"Ro, you were in her house! Are you out of your mind?!"

As he groaned, I could almost see his usual annoyed stance and the way he grabbed the surface in front of him as his anger simmered to a boil. "Me? I would be more concerned about your own mind if I were you! Your cunt of a friend would've done it all again in a heartbeat if I hadn't scared her a little!"

Letha gasped; "What are you talking about? You have no right to call her a!--"

"That bitch hurt her!" Roman's fist came down against the counter, the thud making me jump away from the door. "Have you seen the state of her hands? How do you expect me to react when our petty bullshit comes down to this?!"

I imagined the stunned look across Letha's face, the way her eyes widened as her lips parted, unable to find the right words. Eventually, she spoke; "Jasmine did what?"

I pressed myself harder up against the door, closing my eyes as it dawned on me how concerned Letha sounded. Everything about it made my heart swell with hope-- this meant she hadn't been the one to send Jasmine and her girls. If anything, she sounded horrified about the ordeal.

"Yeah... She did. And when I talked to Jasmine this morning, she seemed quite proud of it. You should be damn happy I didn't kill her on the spot," I heard the humming of the blood machine starting again, along with the snapping of gloves being pulled back on, indicating that Roman was back to work. "But does Jasmine suspect it's me?" he asked, a certain nonchalance about him. "The car and all?"

Letha sighed, trying to contain her outbursts; "She has no idea. And now she's just rambling incoherent things after what happened this morning... I think she's concussed,"

A hum. "Good,"

I clasped a hand over my mouth to suppress a snort. Against my palm, I could feel my growing smile as I realized this confirmed that Roman wasn't motivated to take revenge on Jasmine to quench his thirst to cause fear, but that he cared for me.

He cared for me.

My smile only grew as I stepped away from the door-- He cared for me. He cared for me!

Now, what remained was for Roman to actually own up to it... And I realized I was grinning as the perfect idea of how to get it out of him came to mind. But my plans came to a hard stop when Letha's voice sounded through the door once more; "Whose blood are you using this time?" she joked, trying to lighten the mood. I grimaced as I walked back to the door; I felt bad listening in on their conversation. Still, I imagined Letha was pointing at the machine Roman was using, as it kept making noise.

"Jasmine's," Roman mumbled. "Got enough scraped off her locker to make a sample."

"Ro, that's not funny!--"

"Why haven't you girls made up yet?"

Letha sounded confused as she mentioned my name, not having foreseen the change of subject. "Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Yeah? It's getting annoying at this point. I thought this would blow over several weeks ago," With another loud beep, Roman stopped the machine. "She talks about you a lot. Gets all quiet when I tell her we're having family dinner at your house... And she still has a picture of you two by her bed."

"Oh, and how do you know that? Did you spot it one of the times you were reaching for the condoms on her nightstand?"

His breathing got harder, choppy, before his frustration sounded through his answer; "It's not like that,"

"Okay, then," Letha snorted, clearly not sold. "I'll put it simply for you. How would you feel if I fucked your best friend?"

"Ew, don't give me that mental image!--"

"Fuck you, just imagine a world where I would be enough of an asshole to do that! Imagine I slept with Peter. How would you feel?"

Roman took his time to answer, clearly flustered. "... I get it, okay? I get it!"

"No, you don't," I could almost see the way Letha now avoided his gaze. "But... did it have to be her? Why couldn't you mess around with anyone else, why did you choose the first girl I trusted to get close to me after you screwed all my other friends?"

Learning of his previous conquests with Letha's long line of friends made me sick, but I focused on the fact that Roman remained quiet. Honestly, I would've cut off my left arm in exchange for seeing him right now. I wondered whether he could meet her eyes or not, and whether he was defensive or anxious.

Eventually, Roman answered; "She... sees me. And she makes me feel good about myself. So I'm sorry your bitch-friend got hurt or whatever, but I'm just trying to return the favour,"

I had to do a lot to contain my instinctual jump of joy-- I was two seconds away from skipping down the hallway like a German child in a fairytale. Everything about this conversation made me want to squeal and melt into the door.

However, the other part of me hurt for Letha. Hurt for the girl who knew me better than anyone else, hurt for the first person to have shown me true friendship. I hoped that we could get together someday, to talk it out like people, and not like the two crazy families from Romeo and Juliet.

The rest of the conversation quickly became a childish spat similar to one between siblings-- I stepped away from the door, making sure to keep breathing.

The most important thing I gathered from that conversation was the fact that Roman saw me and that he definitely had feelings for me. However, I couldn't quite put my finger on why he couldn't say it to my face. If he was willing to go so far as to scare off Jasmine for my sake, why couldn't he look me in the eye and tell me what he truly felt about me? I knew it would make me feel much better to get his feelings for me confirmed-- the fact that he was evading it left me uneasy. Uncomfortable. And quite frankly, it only made me further insecure.

What if I had sacrificed my relationship with Letha for someone who would never commit to one with me?

My mind returned to the plan I previously made up with my ear pressed to the door; maybe Roman just needed a push in the right direction?

Either that, or I had been led on like the biggest idiot of the century.

I couldn't do this anymore-- I needed to know.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

And so, it was all set in motion.

The first part of the plan was to find out whether it was necessary to have a plan at all. This, I decided to investigate in the backseat of Roman's car.

It used to be a place that I refused to step foot in after hearing of his cheerleader-conquests. However, right now, it was a place of comfort and peace; he had parked it somewhere desolate, per my request. My parents had gotten suspicious after hearing steps on the roof the other day, and were now watching the whole area around our house like hawks to spot any possible intruders. So, as I didn't want to be caught sneaking a boy into my room, I told Roman to get creative-- and he had hit the jackpot.

This summer night was nice and warm, and we lay curled up in the back of his car as we stared up at the starry sky; this was one of the perks of Roman's car having the function of pulling down the roof. He sat with his back against the car door, me between his legs with my head leaned on his shoulder, the both of us looking up at tonight's constellations decorating the darkness above.

"I'm not even going to act like I know what that one is," I mumbled, pointing up at the scatter of stars. I wrapped myself further up in his sweater, tracing patterns over the arm he had around me-- the night air was crisp, filled with the earthy scent of grass and the faintest hint of rain as my body filled with a certain satisfaction I hadn't felt in a while.

Roman chuckled, pressing a kiss against my cheek as his arm pulled my back flush against his chest. Like this, I could spot my hair ties still worn around his wrists. "It's the Little Bear constellation," he murmured, his long, slender fingers rubbing circles into my side. "See how it looks like a bear cub?"

I decided not to lie; he'd see right through me, anyway. "... No,"

"No?" Roman reached forward to grab my hand into his, closing one eye to position my hand properly with his vision. "Even if I trace it for you?"

It was impossible not to blush. His hand against mine, his warmth against my skin-- everything about this was so incredibly intimate, and I had to hold myself back from simply jumping him out of pure joy. "I-- Well," It was hard to speak when I was this flustered. I swallowed hard before trying again; "I don't think bears have long tails like that."

Roman seemed amused by my answer; "You make a good point," he purred, gently intertwining our fingers before bringing my hand towards his lips, pressing a kiss against my cuts. "As always."

I only blushed further, not bothering to suppress my smile anymore. Turning to him, I watched his big, green eyes meet mine with a softness that nearly made me melt right into him. "How do you even know all of this?" I asked, leaning my head on his shoulder. "You don't strike me as a constellation nerd."

Roman rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. Something told me he was charmed by the subtle compliment of his intellect; "Is it hard for you to believe I'm not braindead?"

"Maybe," I turned back towards the stars, hoping he wouldn't spot my grin. "Pretty boys usually don't even know how to count to forty."

Chuckling, Roman nuzzled his cheek against the top of my head, wrapping both arms around me again. "So now I'm pretty, huh?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, deciding to be blunt-- I didn't gain anything by lying to him about it, anyway. Not after everything we had been through. "I think you're really damn pretty."

Something told me he hadn't expected the frankness, or for me to even be truthful at all. Roman remained quiet, taking in the sweetness of the moment. He took the time to kiss my temple, humming against my skin; "I think you're pretty too," he murmured. "Very, very pretty."

There was no way to suppress the blush burning its way up my cheeks, and I closed my eyes to savour the moment he kissed me. Roman was being so gentle, so loving-- I couldn't believe this was the same boy I had been running away from because I was scared he'd prick me with his scary needles. He seemed to notice how flustered I got from the compliment, letting out a warm chuckle as his gaze turned up at the sky again. As he pointed out a new constellation, Roman's voice was laced with a kind of wonder that made me smile; "If you want the full answer, it is the fact that there's something more up there that makes it interesting. Something much bigger than us... Something worth reaching for, y'know? The stars are just a blatant sign,"

I turned to look at him, watching the way his green eyes sparkled almost as brightly as the stars above us. Roman was so painfully beautiful, and so wonderfully at ease-- there was nothing I wanted more than for him to feel this peaceful all the time. I knew it would be good for his soul.

I wondered whether Roman knew that he was something worth reaching for, as well.

Everything about this evening made my body feel like gelatin. I couldn't even feel my fingers anymore, engulfed in the euphoria that was Roman. This was the perfect distraction from everything that had happened this week, and I realized it was also the perfect time to set my plan in motion; "So... you're willing to admit I'm pretty, but you're not going to say it?"

"Say what?"

I shrugged, feeling myself grow nervous. Roman was usually the one to mess up cute moments by saying something stupid, but I wondered whether now was my turn. "That you like me,"

However, he remained unfazed-- or, at least he was very good at acting like he was. His silence made me further anxious, now starting to wonder if I was the reason he wasn't able to say it to my face. Maybe he wasn't as into me as I had thought? Maybe this was just how he treated every girl he liked?

I knew it wasn't, but I realized I was spiraling; I needed him to spell it out for me. I really, really hoped he would-- then I wouldn't have to go that dreaded extra length and go into phase two of my plan.

Roman pressed his lips against the top of my head, clearly lost in thought as he brought me back from mine. "Do you need me to?"

That was a good question-- one I knew the answer of. "I think so, yeah..."

"You need it spelled out?"

"Yeah,"

"Verbatim?"

"Verbatim, Rome,"

The nickname seemed to throw him off; he let out a breathy chuckle, shifting to get a good look at me. "Since when am I Rome to you?"

I shrugged, meeting his green eyes. "Since... now?"

Roman smiled down at me, clearly flattered. "Cute," he breathed, leaning in to place a sweet kiss against my cheek. I giggled as Roman's fingers dug into my skin, pressing me further up against him in a flash of passion-- although this moment was perfect in theory, I knew I hadn't gotten what I wanted out of him tonight, and I dreaded what I had to do because of it.

Quite frankly, I dreaded it mostly because I was very well aware that the second part of my plan was incredibly high-risk. Stupid. Reckless, even.

However, I didn't see any other way of forcing those three words out of Roman that I needed so much. How else was I supposed to prove to myself that I hadn't sacrificed my friendships for nothing?

I dreaded every single step up I took as I made my way through the cafeteria the next day. In my peripheral view, I saw Roman sitting next to his best friend, Peter, chatting away about something as none of them had noticed me yet. It was only when I caught Roman's eyes that my heart started racing-- I watched his confusion build as I started walking in the opposite direction.

Determined, I knew this was the perfect moment to execute the second part of the plan. I did my best to keep my face neutral, hoping not to be visibly bothered by Roman's watchful stare, as I deliberately sat down next to Daniel-- the guy who had flirted with me at an assembly a month ago.

I specifically chose Daniel because I remembered Roman saying he had noticed me talking to him; I also knew that this guy was the key to making him see the consequences of staying unofficial.

I didn't need to look at Roman to know he was seething.

Daniel turned to me, putting down his fork. We hadn't talked since I started seeing Roman and stopped responding to his messages-- he was visibly confused, but there was a certain sparkle in his blue eyes that gave away his delight. "Hi?" He quickly turned to his friends who were all staring at us and motioned for them to get back to their own shit.

"Hey, you," I shifted in my seat, attempting to make myself comfortable whilst Roman's gaze drilled holes into the side of my skull. "Haven't seen you in a hot minute. How are you?" Putting on my nicest smile, I tilted my head a little as I spoke-- that used to work on him.

Daniel blinked twice, clearly unsure what to say. "Uh... Yeah, of course I haven't seen you, you've been busy with Roman," His eyes darted over to the latter, watching as my very unofficial boyfriend glared daggers his way. "I'm fine now, but I'm afraid I won't be later if you don't move soon."

This had been one of the driving factors of me not falling for Daniel-- this guy was an absolute wuss. I did my best not to roll my eyes, knowing how to rope him back in again; I placed a gentle hand against his arm, rounding out my eyes as Daniel turned back to me. His blonde hair fell over his eyes, a bright contrast to the dark blue of his varsity jacket, as his heart visibly skipped a beat.

"You want me to move?" I tried, keeping my tone soft as I gave his arm a short squeeze.

In my peripheral view, I caught a glimpse of Roman stiffening in his seat. His green, intense eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and his fingers tapped impatiently against the table as his mood darkened. That same, unmistakable anger looming over him like a dark cloud worried me-- I knew I didn't have much time to make my point before he'd explode.

However, distractingly comical, was the sight of Peter next to him, debating whether to put his hand on his best friend's shoulder in an attempt to calm him down; his hand kept jerking back and forth, jumping with every twitch of Roman's eye.

Daniel swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving mine. "Well... You don't have to move," He cleared his throat, giving in to a nervous chuckle. "You're already here, I guess. Pretty as always."

I had to fight my instincts to not throw up in my mouth-- it made me physically ill to flirt with him when I was so sickeningly crazy about Roman. "Oh, you're too kind," I tried, forcing a smile.

Daniel flashed me that typical heartthrob smile of his, finally giving in to my antics. He tilted his head, mimicking me, as his eyes sparkled with want; "Fuck, I've missed seeing you around,"

That seemed to be enough for Roman-- his possessive intensity came to a simmer, boiling over. He kicked away his chair as he got up, an angry groan escaping him as stormed off with balled fists. Peter sent me a sharp look of come on before he left his food behind to follow his best friend.

That was my cue to leave. "I, uh... Sorry," Releasing Daniel's arm with a quickness I didn't know I had in me, I practically jumped out of my seat, allowing myself to shudder when I was out of view. I didn't like touching any other guy like that, but I hoped that Roman would take the time to let it dawn on him that this could be his reality if he didn't step the fuck up.

... I really hoped that would be his conclusion.

However, it dawned on me that this might've been my biggest misstep so far. I had learned that one of the most important things for Roman, was loyalty-- maybe I shouldn't have toyed with his perception of mine?

Putting it all together, I realized I should've expected it to blow up in my face.

The third and final part of my plan had been simple in my head; Roman would confront me about what had happened in the cafeteria, and then he'd tell me he couldn't stand the sight of me with another man and therefore wants us to be official.

... It seems that I had gotten in over my head.

The exact opposite of that happened. Now, Roman wasn't answering my calls. He would walk past me in the hallway as though I was a ghost, even though the fading hickey on the side of his neck served as a reminder of our time together. I hadn't expected him to ignore me like this, I really hadn't-- he was utterly unforgiving.

It had been three days of no contact. No shared glances, no exchanged words, simply because I got too confident. Why had I thought it would be so easy to get what I wanted? Why had I felt the need to drag a confession out of him when his actions spoke for him?

Roman had made sure none of Letha's friends would touch me again-- or, at least in the near future, seeing as the main instigator was at home with a severe concussion. He had put in a good word for me with Letha, he had bought me a new phone, and he had opened up enough to both accept and enjoy physical affection. Why hadn't I seen it this clearly before I messed it all up?

It all came down to one moment in the hallway.

Exhausted and alone, I had zoned out like I usually did to distract myself from everything as I rummaged through my locker for my book. My body felt heavy with the sadness coursing through my veins, knowing I had no one anymore. No one. My every moment was slow, not having the energy to hurry much as I spent an unusual amount of time looking for the specific book I needed.

Up until my body froze at the sight to my right.

My head slowly turned to watch what was happening a few meters down the hall. There he was, the man that had haunted my every waking moment, vexed my every thought, with a girl.

Roman had that classic heartbreaker look about him as always, leaning his hand next to the girl's head against the locker. From this angle, I could see the upward turn of his nose, the way his smirk painted across his lips, and the way his eyes practically sparkled at the sight of his next prey.

The most jarring part about it was the fact that I could still see my hair ties around Roman's wrist as his palm lay flat against the locker behind her, almost as though it was on purpose.

It became downright nauseating when the girl giggled and started twirling her finger around her hair-- I did my best not to throw up my breakfast. Questions raced through my mind, fogging up my brain; why was he doing this here, in front of me? Why was he doing this at all?

I was sure this was what people meant when speaking of tasting their own medicine.

I stood frozen by my locker, one hand still shoved beneath the rubble of books, as involuntary tears pressed up against my eyes. I tried to ground myself with a few deep breaths, yet the world around me felt as though it was crumbling. All these games were so damn childish from the both of us; when would it end? I was living through my worst nightmare, and it became a hundred times worse when I realized I had been warned about this before by Roman himself.

I was reminded of the first night we kissed in that closet during seven minutes of heaven;

Roman stilled, eventually letting out a hum which sent a shiver down my spine. "You know nothing about nightmares," he breathed against my lips. "If I tell Letha we fucked in here, you'll be living through your worst one."

Oh, if only he'd known how right he was. Now I had no one to run to, no one to seek comfort from, all because of my own stupidity. Not only had I managed to lose all my friends, but now I had lost the one thing I had sacrificed everything for; Roman.

A pit formed in my stomach as I watched him lean closer to her, laughter dancing between them. Didn't he know how much that hurt? Didn't he see me standing here, shattered? I was so lost in the shock, that when Roman turned to face me, revealing that he knew exactly where I was and that I was watching, I barely registered it. My eyes had welled up in tears, looking completely shell-shocked as I watched his smirk immediately falter at the sight of my watery gaze.

In a flash of action, I slammed my locker shut, not bothering to look for my book anymore. I needed to get away. Now.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

When I got home that same day, I had expected to be left in peace-- that was the most logical conclusion. My parents were at a loss with what to do with me, and of course I had no friends reaching out to check up on me. I was quite sure I had hit the lowest of the low, simply sinking into a state of forced apathy as I lay with my face down into my pillow, spreading out on my bed wearing Roman's enormous sweater. I was quite sure I had been like this for hours, not getting up, not eating-- I didn't care anymore.

I couldn't care; it would break me. Just like that sight of Roman with that girl.

I touched my neck, feeling the soreness of my fading hickeys as lightning struck outside. There were barely any traces now, and the realization that they would be gone in a day or two hit me like a truck. Thankfully, I didn't have many tears left in my body. I lay in the coldness of the puddle of grief I had left on my pillow, shivering as it dawned on me that I might never feel Roman's lips against mine again. Never feel his hands around my waist, never be in the back of his car, and never get to lay in his arms ever again. As the heavy rain continued to tap against my window, every drop felt like a reminder of the moments we'd shared, slipping away.

I remembered that first time Roman smiled at me in class. Every memory came to me; the rush of excitement coursing through my veins during our first kiss, the feeling of laughing with him at that café on our first date, and the way I would sometimes wake up to Roman's arm tightly wrapped around me in a protective, loving embrace. He wanted to hold me, even in sleep.

He wanted me. Roman Godfrey wanted me, and I threw it all away because of my incessant need for him to commit.

And just as I was about to choke out any remaining tears, I heard a knock at my door. I didn't care to move, knowing my parents knew of my state, as my words got muffled against my pillow; "What is it? I'm not having dinner!"

"That's not it," My parents seemed to be whispering between themselves before one of them continued; "Sweetie... there's a boy for you at the door."

I bounced off of the bed as though I had heard a gunshot, and I landed on the floor with a groan as I crashed down against the hard wood. Wondering whether the thud had sounded through the ceiling downstairs, I realized I didn't have time to think about that; "Okay, give me-- Give me a second!" I got up from the floor, feeling my breath get stuck in my chest as I ran to my mirror, doing my best to fix the way I looked before leaving my room.

My thoughts were racing as I made my way past my parents, realizing they were staying upstairs to give us some space. I didn't need to guess who the boy at the door was-- still, I froze halfway down the stairs at the sight of him.

There he was, drenched in rain. Roman took a deep breath at the sight of me, watching the way his sweater draped over my shoulders with his big, green eyes. He, too, seemed to have frozen to his spot like an icicle, and a thick silence ensued as I gripped onto the banister of the stairs-- I was afraid I'd faint and roll right down. As he stood there, cold and vulnerable, I felt the walls of insecurity I had built up begin to crumble; his presence was both a comfort and a reminder of everything I'd lost.

Even worse was the way I tensed up, ready for him to yell at me and blow up. My grip on the banister tightened to suppress the subtle shake of my hands as I held my breath.

Finally, Roman spoke-- but it was far from what I had imagined him to say; "I don't know what happened. It doesn't make sense," His eyes rounded out, so heartbreakingly sincere. "We were good, and suddenly we weren't. I made sure you were safe from those girls, and then you went and flirted with that assembly guy... It doesn't make any sense."

I let in a long, shaky breath, feeling the guilt seeping through my veins. "I thought... I thought I needed you to say it,"

"Say what?" Roman shivered, clearly cold from his wet clothes. It made me wonder how long he had paced back and forth in the rain before approaching the door. "That I like you?"

My cheeks burned-- "Yeah..."

Another wave of silence ensued as Roman no longer met my gaze, biting his teeth together as he tried to steady his breathing. I could feel hints of his brewing anger beneath his attempts to keep calm; "Did you need me to say it so bad?" he mumbled. "Have I not shown you what I feel for you? Was it not blatantly obvious?"

Everything about his tone made me want to burst into tears-- it made me feel seven again, being told off in front of the whole class. "I'm sorry," I didn't know what else to say, at a loss for words. "You're just so hot and cold sometimes, I thought it would make me feel better if I got it confirmed. I sacrificed so much to be with you, and it was freaking me out that you couldn't say you want to be with me as well... I guess it really got to me."

It was clear that Roman was conflicted, consumed by a storm of thoughts. His green eyes softened, his brows drawing together in a look of melancholic sorrow as he let out a sigh. "I hear you, but it's just... Those girls went after you because you were with me. I know you've had a tough time, and I didn't want to make it any worse for you by making us official... By making my feelings official," His voice trembled, revealing the cracks in his tough exterior-- it was as though the weight of his own fears had finally become too much to bear.

Another wave of guilt washed over me, knowing I had driven him to this point with my schemes. "Why would that make it worse?" I dared to take another step down the stairs, letting go of the banister. "Wouldn't it be a good thing? Don't you think it would've made me feel better?"

Roman's eyes fixated on the laces of his wet shoes, and I watched him change his weight from one foot to the other. It was obvious that he was nervous, especially as he cleared his throat. "I don't think I'd be a good boyfriend," he mumbled. "I shut down. I retaliate when I'm angry. And I don't know whether Letha would ever forgive you if we got into a relationship, and I know that would crush you."

Despite the reminder of Letha, I had to bite down on my bottom lip to suppress my growing smile-- it warmed my heart to hear how he had thought this through down to every last detail.

Roman was rambling at this point; "I was just so shocked when you went to Daniel, I thought I was going to faint. The way you smiled at him, the way you touched him... I couldn't even look at you these past few days, and then I couldn't stand the silence either, hence that show in the hallway... I just didn't expect you to cry. I fucking lost it,"

I reached the end of the stairs by the time he was done, now close enough to see that his drenched clothes were leaving small puddles of rain along the hardwood floor. "Roman--"

"--And I just don't want to hurt you, y'know?" He finally looked up to meet my gaze, an unfamiliar emotion swimming in his green eyes. There was a certain desperation about him as his words came out like a stream in a never-ending river; "Because even though we're fighting, you're still in my sweater. And even though you're fucking infuriating, I still want to hold you. No matter what people think, you're good. You're sweet, you're kind, you... There is a sanctity about you in my mind. I really don't want to hurt you, but it's fucking inevitable with me! That's just who I am!"

I was batting away tears at this point; "Rome, please, that's not!--"

"--Of course I like you!" Roman's eyes glossed over, letting his emotions shine through his tough exterior at the sound of his new nickname. "If anything, I adore you half to death, and you doubting that makes me feel like I've failed! I've failed to keep you happy, I've failed to make you feel seen, and I'm just-- I'm a mess!"

Attempting to pat away my tears with the sleeve of Roman's sweater, I sniffled as I realized I was unsuccessful, my tears now spilling down my cheeks. Suddenly, many parts of him made sense to me; after finally letting me hear his true, inner thoughts, I had never seen him more clearly than now.

Roman sniffled as well, head hanging low in shame. "Why would you want a mess?" he echoed, his voice breaking. "I don't want to hurt you. I really, really don't."

Enough-- It was breaking my heart to hear him so broken. I finally dared to step towards him, slowly reaching for his soaked jacket. Roman's eyes widened as he watched me hang it up in the hallway; "What are you?--"

"Stay the night," I placed myself in front of him, having to get up on my tippytoes to brush his wet hair away from his forehead. "My parents probably won't mind if I ask nicely."

Roman's green eyes rounded out with every soft touch against his skin, and he placed his hands over mine as I cupped his face; it dawned on me that I hadn't felt so calm in a while. "I want to be yours, Rome. In every sense of the word," My thumbs stroked over his cheeks, watching his heavy lids fall over his eyes as he keened against my touch, succumbing to the comfort. "So what if you're a mess? You think I'm not, with the way I've been running around you for months like a dog?"

It warmed my heart to hear him laugh, even if it was for a few seconds-- I knew my eyes weren't deceiving me when I spotted a tear or two heavying down his long lashes, making their way out of hiding.

I had to bat away my own, my voice barely baring through the sentence; "You're much kinder than you think you are, much more gentle... If only I could make you see it yourself," Getting up to his level was impossible, but I was able to tilt his head down enough for me to place a soft kiss between his brows. "I want us to be together. I want us to at least have each other,"

Roman's breath hitched, letting his hands travel down to rest at my waist as he opened his eyes. revealing an ocean of tears about to spill down his rosy cheeks. "We're going to crash and burn,"

"... Let us, then,"

It was as though time stood still in the moments I waited for signs of a yes. My thumbs stroked over his temples, realizing our chests were rising and falling at the same time, trapping us in one breath, one body. For a second, it felt as though Roman and I melted into each other, the green of his eyes engulfing me with a look that told me everything I needed to know.

Roman's breath was hot and heavy as he searched for the right words. I was sure he'd said enough dumb things for a lifetime to know he needed to choose wisely for once. But hence, his lips curled up into the sweetest smile known to man as he spoke against mine--

"Let us," he breathed. "Let's burn together, then."

(a/n: if you've come this far, thank u so much omg!! MWAHH)

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seven minutes in heaven masterlist

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #roman godfrey x reader #x reader #bill skarsgård #fanfiction #oneshot #bill skarsgard #angst #toxic relationship #highschool!au #vampire x you

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countcvnt · 1 year ago

Text

Experiment

Chapter One: Scrambled

[Poly!TF141/Fem!Reader]

Summary: Your memory is hazy, almost nonexistent, after being plucked out of a safe house and experimented on for months. When you're finally rescued you don't remember the people closest to you. Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (not much else this chapter), me using an english to scottish translator, not beta read Word Count: 3.3k A/N: Had this silly idea and turned it into a serious/angsty fic. I hope you all will like it as much as I do! Also, Reader has a call sign! It's Ace. If you prefer, you can read it here on AO3

Your eyes are heavy, your body burns, and you can't stop shaking. You aren't even sure of where you are. Your eyes are trained ahead of you, looking at what you assume is a two way mirror. A scientist is standing to the side of you messing with some needles and medicines. Your half lidded eyes cut towards him and you see a thick blue substance in a syringe.

“What's that?” You croak, voice hoarse.

“Hm?” The scientist doesn't even look at you, “curious now, are we?” He asks, pulling the syringe up and turning to you. He doesn't answer your question though, not in a way you would like. “We are about to figure out what this is.”

‘We’. Your stomach flips. He didn't even seem to know what it was. You accept your fate. You have from the very beginning. You don't know how long you've been part of this ‘program’, and to you, it didn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is trying to get out alive. No one seemed to be coming for you. No one has in all of the days you've been hidden away. You didn't expect anyone to save you now. So, you had decided to save yourself. Figuring out how to do that was becoming difficult though.

You know that behind that two way mirror are a bunch of guards. You know they're heavily armed. You know, no matter what they have juiced you up with, you aren't beating a bunch of armed men. So, you sit idly. Letting them poke and prod and decide you are going to wait until the perfect opportunity shows itself. You just have to hold on until it does.

A loud alarm suddenly rings throughout the building and you cover your ears, flinching. The scientist seems more agitated than anything. He doesn't seem as bothered as you are, by any means.

“Guards!” He calls out, looking towards the large mirror. “Guards?” He questions.

He puts a finger up at you, asking for you to wait a minute. As if you have any other choice. A loud bang comes from outside the room and chills run up your spine. The guard walks towards the door and he peeks out. He quickly shuts and locks the door before returning back to you. He scurries over towards the metal stand beside your seat. He grabs the syringe and picks it up.

Something clicks in you. The alarms are still blaring and the guards seem to be gone to check it out. You watch as the syringe comes towards you, headed right for your neck. You move faster than you're used to, and grab the man’s hand and push him back. A lot harder than you had meant to. He slides back and hits the wall. The syringe does not leave his hand.

You rush towards the door. You wiggle the door knob and try to rip the door open. It doesn't budge. You turn your head back and see the scientist steadying himself. Fear kicks in.

“Help!” You scream, slamming your fists into the door. “Please, help me!”

“That was really stupid,” the man behind you says. “No one can hear you, no one is coming to save you. They haven't yet, have they?”

Tears prick your eyes. You turn back around and your back hits the door.

“Y'know, I'm going to be honest.” He stalks towards you. “I know they picked you because you're so… compliant. But really? I think that big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.”

That stings. “Who?”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

“You know I can't give out classified information. But if this works, I promise, you'll know everything. As for the other guy? I'm surprised you don't know who I'm talking about. But honestly, after all the brain scrambling you've had done to you, I understand how you don't remember him…”

You lose it. Something in you snaps. You lunge forward and grab the man. The both of you tussle briefly. Until you get him pinned. Your body slams into his and you hold him down. You raise your fist and bring it down, slamming it into his jaw. Screams, pleas fall from his lips. He's begging for you to quit. But you don't. You, at that moment, decide you are going to do that to every single person who has harmed you, who caused this.

The door behind you blows open, but you don't falter. Your fists continue to slam into the scientist’s face. Until you hear someone with a Scottish accent say your name. You freeze. You turn to find a man in the doorway, his eyes wide. You furrow your brows when he whispers your name again. You move to get up, without thinking about the man below you. You don't realize he's moving. His hand comes up and the needle is pressed into your neck. Whatever the liquid was is quickly administered into your bloodstream.

You hear your name again, louder this time, but you fall to the side, eyes too heavy to hold open. Your head slams into the now bloodied white tile and you're out.

So much for escaping. _____________________________________ You wake up to beeping. A sound you had grown accustomed to recently. You feel monitors hooked up to you, and an IV in your arm. You twitch ever so slightly, every muscle in your body contracting. And then it hits.

Anger.

Your eyes snap open. Your legs swing over the side of the bed. You rip every single monitor off of you, the IV flying across the room. The monitor begins to beep loudly and as you rush towards the door, exiting the isolated room, an alarm blares. You flinch momentarily, but do not let the sound stop you. You are looking for someone, anyone to give you a hint of what's going on. Nothing around you looks familiar. But from all the ‘brain scrambling’, that's normal. You're used to not knowing as much as you figure you used to.

A man in a bucket hat turns the corner, rushing towards what can only assume is you. You let out a low growl and begin to sprint. Your body slams into his and the both of you are sent sliding across the floor. You grab his vest and lower yourself to him, all of your weight holding him down. “Where the fuck am I?”

He's looking at you with confused eyes. He doesn't make any sudden movements. He immediately presents himself as a friend, not a threat. You squint and then see someone else coming around the corner.

“Price! Oh my-” the young man freezes. He says your name and your world is instantly rocked.

You haven't heard your name in god knows how long. The Scottish man had called out for you earlier, but before that? You really can't think of a time when someone had called you something other than some experiment number. “Who are you?” You hiss.

You feel the man under you tense up. He swallows hard and he says your name this time, slow and soft. He isn't showing any signs of wanting to throw you across the room or knock the shit out of you. You take it he isn't a threat and shift.

“You don't remember me?” The man in the ball cap asks, brows furrowed. “You don't remember us?”

Your heart jumps into your throat. You push yourself off of the man below you and you stand up. You brush yourself off and watch as he stands up. He radios someone to cut off the alarm and it's promptly stopped. You are thankful for that. You stand in the hall awkwardly and watch him and the other, younger man talk to each other with facial expressions.

“You're probably hungry,” the man in the bucket hat turns towards you, “how about we go get you some food?”

You aren't stupid, you know that also entails speaking with them about everything you just went through. Despite not wanting to talk, you nod. You are hungry and haven't had an actual meal in possibly months. The man reaches out to touch your lower back, to lead you to wherever he wants to go. You flinch away from him, everything in you tensing. You can tell it's a reflex. A habit. He's used to doing that. Your eyes scan him and you're searching your brain for everything, anything about him. But there's nothing.

“Sorry.” Is all he says. He leaves it at that. “Gaz,” he looks away from you and towards the other man. “Please go grab some food and meet us back at room 2B.”

“Yes, sir.”

The tension is palpable. You want to run. Fast. You can. You know you can. But something is keeping you tethered there. You follow a couple feet behind the man who had yet to introduce himself and keep thinking about ‘Gaz’. Your mind is reeling. You keep thinking about his name, his face, everything. You close your eyes tight and inhale sharply.

“Kyle.” It's all you say. It stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyes open and your breathing is heavy. “His name is Kyle.” Your breathing is suddenly ragged. You can't catch your breath and feel like everything is crumbling in on you. You fall to your knees and try to keep yourself from wailing. “I don't even know your name!” You whisper to keep yourself from sobbing. Your voice cracks.

“Price. John Price.” He drops in front of you. He reaches for your bicep. You don't flinch away this time. “Hey,” his voice is low, “look at me.” Your eyes cut up to him. “We're gonna help you through this. I promise.” You nod. You want to trust him. You need to. You feel like you can. You inhale slowly and Price helps you up. “We're going to go to room 2B, you're going to eat some breakfast, and we're going to ask you some questions.”

You nod and start following Price again. You make it to the room in silence and Price opens the door for you. You walk in and find four beige walls, a table, and four chairs. Nothing else. Until you look in the corner of the room and find a little camera. You lock onto it and squint.

“Why?” You point at it.

“Oh,” Price walks in and closes the door behind him, “it’s protocol. Security and all.”

“Fair enough.” You sit down at the table and look at the Price. “You gonna sit?”

Price holds onto his vest and leans against the table. “Not yet.”

You shrug. “Suit yourself.” Your stomach growls. You touch it through the thin white shirt you're wearing. “You think Gaz will be here soon?”

With that, a knock comes from the other side of the door. Two knocks, a pause, and another knock. Price opens the door and Gaz walks in. He has a tray filled with food and you are growing antsy. He sits across from you and slides the tray towards you. You try to not immediately dig in, but you can't help it. You grab a glazed donut first and begin to devour it.

“Oh,” you pause your munching, “thank you, Kyle.”

Gaz freezes. His eyes widen and he turns towards Price. It's your turn to freeze. You look up at him mid bite and blink. Gaz motions towards you and asks, “Did you tell her my name.”

“No.” Price shakes his head.

“You remembered?” Gaz seems ecstatic. “What else do you-”

“Nothing.” You snap. “I don't remember a damn thing.” You huff as you move onto the muffin on the tray. You unwrap it and begin to devour the sweet. “All I know,” You speak through bites, “is that I was locked up for God knows how long and they were experimenting on me-”

“Four months.” Gaz speaks quietly.

“Huh?” You question him. “How do you know?”

“We looked for you when you disappeared. It was four months ago when they got you. You really don’t remember anything?”

“Like I said,” You huff, “I just know they were juicing me up.” Before they can question you further, a light bulb goes off in your head. “Wait.” You squint at them, “The Scottish one. Where is he?”

They tense up. Gaz talks first, “You remember Soap?”

“Huh?” You cock your head. “Is that his name? He’s the one that found me. I assume he’s here. Or did he not…” You trail off.

“No, he’s here…” Price begins, “…We don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Oh.” You shrug. “I guess that makes sense. How am I supposed to, uh, assimilate without being overwhelmed. I mean, why don’t we just rip that band aid off?”

“Trust me,” Price locks eyes with you, “we do not need to rip that band aid off right now.”

“Okay, okay,” You put your hands up. “Do you wanna ask your questions now?” _____________________________________ “This cannae be healthy,” Soap looks at Simon.

Simon shrugs, “Don’t care.” He’s watching the cameras closely.

“Thay aren't even in th' room yit! Ye'r peepin' an empty room!” Soap’s eyes move from the screen and back to Simon.

Simon’s eyes cut from the screen and to Soap, “Shut it. Price wants us to stay away from her for now. He didn’t say we couldn’t do this.”

As he says that, the door of the room opens. Price is visible first. And then, another figure walks in. You. Simon and Soap both tense. You look directly at the camera and point, asking why it’s there. You’re so clear. Soap’s heart jumps. Simon shifts.

“She remembers Gaz’s name.” Simon speaks through gritted teeth.

“A'm sure that's a targeted attack against ye, Ghost.” Soap is trying to find humor in this situation. He’s grasping for straws.

Simon is not enjoying it. “Shut the fuck up, Johnny.” Simon growls.

Soap focuses back on the screen and notices you aren’t even sure how long you’ve been gone. As Gaz gently tells you four months, Simon grumbles the amount of time at the same time.

“If Price doesn’t wanna overwhelm her, why the fuck is Gaz in there.” Simon is seething. “Why can’t we all be in there.”

Simon shuts his mouth as you say they had been juicing you up. He tenses. Soap does the same. They both need to know what it means. Simon feels like he’s going to combust. His eyes narrow once you mention Soap. Soap looks like he’s about to jump with joy, until he realizes you don’t actually remember him. Not past him saving you.

“Fuck this,” Simon pushes past Soap. “I'm going in there.”

“Hey! Price said-” Soap starts. He doesn't finish. “Fine-” he rushes out behind Simon. He guesses they're just going to bust into the room and Simon is going to make you remember. He isn't quite sure what Simon has planned really. But he decides he can't sit in the security room and just watch. He needs to see you.

So does Simon. _____________________________________ You reach for a fork for your eggs and lean back in your seat, plate in hand. You relax (as much as possible) and you look at Gaz and Price. You are studying them. Really digging into their features. You want to remember so badly. You have no reason to trust that they used to know you, a part of you is ready to attack in case they are lying. But most of you trusts them. How else would you remember Kyle’s name?

“Listen,” Price inhales sharply, “we want to help you, without overwhelming you. We need to know what you know.”

“Listen,” You mimic his tone, “I don’t know what you aren’t getting. I remember nothing, nada, zilch.”

“Okay,” Gaz interjects, “What’s your last memory?”

You're sent into deep thought. You place your hand on your chin and look off. “Well-” You begin, “I remember-”

The door of the room busts open. You tense, ready to pounce. Your palms hit the table and you stand up straight. The fork clangs against the ground. Two men walk into the room. The one who saved you and-

Words play in your head over and over again. ‘I think the big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.’ For a moment, your world is completely rocked. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know who I'm talking about.’ Your eyes lock with the large beast of a man. His eyes soften. Briefly. You swallow hard.

The entire room is silent. Until you open your mouth. “He wanted you…”

“What?” Soap is the first to question you.

“The scientist, the one doing the experiments on me-” You are tense again “-he didn’t want me.” Your head hurts. You place your hand on your forehead and groan. You are thinking too hard. Remembering too much.

“Hey,” Price motions for you to sit down, “it’s alright.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ghost,” Price looks over his shoulder, “not right now.”

Ghost stiffens. He doesn’t say anything else. You sit down and inhale slowly. Your eyes move from the floor, past Price, and they hit Ghost. You feel something stir inside you. Like your emotions know more than your brain does. You want to scream. Every single man in that room seems to think so highly of you, and you don’t even remember them.

“I think I need to sleep.” Your voice is a whisper.

You don’t know the last time you got a good rest. You figure sleeping will help you. Price begins to grab for you, before freezing. You lean into him, letting him help you up. Price moves past the men and you tag along beside him.

“I’m going to show you where your room is. If you need anything, please let one of us know. But for now, we’ll leave you alone.” You are led down the hall and towards the barracks. It’s silent between the two of you, until you reach your room. “You have this room to yourself. I had some things rearranged, if it needs to be changed, and you aren’t comfortable alone, let me know.”

You nod at him. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“0600 sharp.” Price begins to leave.

“Wait,” You stop him. “You don’t happen to have my phone, do you?”

Price turns back to you. “No, that was not recovered. But, we can get you a new one. I’ll work on that while you rest.”

You nod. You head into your room and close the door behind you. You look around. There are two beds. You groan at the fact you can’t remember who used to be your bunk mate. You’re scraping through your brain, really searching for just an inkling of a memory. But… Nothing. Nothing at all comes to your mind.

Nothing about the four men convinced that you know them, anyway.

You lay down in bed and cover up. It’s not the most comfortable bed you’ve ever been in, but it is the most comfortable bed you’ve laid on in the last four months. Your head hits the pillows and you close your eyes. It takes longer than you’d like to go to sleep, but not as long as you expect it to take. You only hope you don’t dream of anything at all. You can’t be that lucky. _________________________________ “Price!” Simon shouts at the captain. His face contorted with anger and pain, and he is more glad than ever that they can’t see him through his balaclava. “What the fuck was that? We need to know-”

“No,” Price stops him immediately. “We do not need to stress her out further. We will figure this out eventually, on her time.” Price reassures his team. “You did not see the look in her eyes, the way she tackled me to the floor-”

“She what…?” Soap tenses.

Simon bristles instantly. He’s seething again. “What do you mean?”

“Ghost,” Gaz starts, “I know you want to know what happened. We all do.” He’s trying to get through to him. “But something is not right. The way she easily took Captain Price down- That wasn’t the Ace we know.”

“Of course!” Simon growls, “She was gone for four months, being poked and prodded-”

“Ghost,” Price interrupts, inhaling sharply, “she pinned me down and I could not get up. They did more than poke and prod at her. They-”

It clicks. “They were making soldiers… Enhanced soldiers.” Simon whispers. His face contorts again, this time with confusion, “Why did they pick her?” He remembers what you said. ‘He wanted you.’ Simon momentarily feels a pit in his stomach. “Ace couldn’t have been the only one… There’s no way they did this experiment on one person.”

“She was the only one at the underground compound.” Soap shifts. “Maybe she was the only success?”

Simon is stuck on why they picked you. It’s not like you weren’t capable. But you were never on the field fighting for your life. You were always on the sidelines, helping them get into the places, helping them get information. How had they spotted you and decided you were the best candidate? He knows that question is going to keep him up at night.

“Come on,” Price brings Simon back to reality. “We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

#ghost x reader #john price x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish #john price #cod x reader #cod #call of duty #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #captain john price #x reader

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physics-of-one-piece · 2 months ago

Text

Merlot & Primroses (Doflamingo x Reader)

Chapter 3

AO3 link

Summary: Your husband’s brother finds you. Life with him and his sham of a family is as cold as the snow your husband was found buried in. You're going to wilt slowly living with Doflamingo, you’re sure. No flower can survive in such snow.

Masterlist

Chapter Navigation: 1 , 2 , 3 (here), 4

Tags: Female!Reader, Rosinante's Wife!Reader, Civilian!Reader, Rosinante x Reader (mentioned through flashbacks), Donquixote Pirates, Kidnapping, Gaslighting, Forced Proximity, Doflamingo's Comforting Skills are Non-Existent, Mentions of Fratricide, Grief, Angst, Post-Minion Island, North Blue Doflamingo, Red Suit Doflamingo, Touch-Starved Doflamingo, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Protective Donquixote Doflamingo, Adult Themes

Word Count: 11.5k

A/N: I am so fckn nervous about this chapter it makes me anxious as hell. If there are any mistakes, pls do let me know. On a happier note... The Donquixote Pirates are here at last! 🦩🎉🎉Also, I didn't think the DQ Pirates were all so tall - I thought only the executives were above 3 meters - but was I wrong. They're all big. Gladius, my hedgehog pufferfish punk baby ❤️🦔 Also, Doffy & Baby 5 in this GIF aaaaa he's such a girldad 🥹🥹😊😊 Thank you everyone for the support! 🫶🏻🩷🦩

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @moonbaby26 @daydreamer-in-training @queenmimi2817 @dummyduck44 @pinejayy @tellynojelly @capycapy-bara @dilf-destroyer-04 @yataidiot @orioncipher @isabeauwolf @r-amenegg @skullfacedlady @wrennyx @yan-love-reader @caldrien @rujellyroll @bonzaibaby @emilyfeetumbrella @ghostiequill @pipsterz @graceland321 @panthorastormheart @thesmolestsage @thesaltycrisp @hurricanebrownie @heroinicyfingers @t-sarah @aganhim @smol-flower-kiddo @vaniiiavengeance @sagyunaro @froggiewrites @doffyslittledove @7wanne @ohnomyhooves @tinycreature21 @aganhim @anime-fan-isa-art @fruity0salad @tavsianus @xblackxjackx @hime44444 @ripndips @shanalikeanna @multifandomgirl2018 @shirayuki-ayumi @misaneeragoni

Chapter 3

“Diamante!” Doflamingo yelled, entering the top officers lounge room with sharp steps of his pointed shoes.

Corazon and Pica looked up from their reading material and toward the swordsman with an unspoken, ‘What did you do now?’

Doflamingo lifted his hand, revealing the pink magazine filled with adultery to Diamante, his tanned forehead covered with roads of his throbbing veins. Rosinante’s eyebrows shot up all the way up to his hairline, and he was rather grateful for his bangs. Pica blushed, hiding his face into the geology book he was reading.

“How many times did I tell you?” growled Doflamingo, throwing the porn magazine onto the coffee table. “Stop putting your porn magazines on Law’s study pile!”

“Well, he needs to study about that, too, Doffy, hehe!”

“He’s ten,” said Doflamingo, frowning at the man, feeling the veins on his temples throb. “I see any of your magazines one more time on his study pile, I’m throwing out your entire stash. I know where you keep them.”

Diamante started to sweat.

“Oh come on, Doffy,” Diamante said, “they’re all going to grow up eventually. Even Baby 5. She’ll be taking picks of which man to ri —”

Corazon covered Diamante’s mouth before Diamante could put himself into an early watery grave.

Doflamingo slammed his hand on the table, making the entire wooden surface shake from the sudden force colliding with it.

Doflamingo growled, veins bulging on his forehead. Baby 5 and the words ‘having a boyfriend’, ‘suitor’, or ‘lover’ were banned from being spoken in the same sentence.

“Riddle with bullets!” squealed Pica quickly, sweating. “She’ll be taking picks of which man she’ll riddle with bullets!”

Doflamingo frowned, glaring at Diamante. Then, slowly, his mouth curved into his infamous grin.

“Exactly,” said Doflamingo, accentuating the word, smile sharp and dangerous.

“I’ll be taking this one,” said Doflamingo.

“Huh?!” cried Diamante. “H-Hang on, Doffy! That’s one of my favourite ones!”

“Shouldn’t have left it on Law’s desk, then, fufufu!”

As Doflamingo approached the couch to sit down, he tilted his head curiously at the magazine in his brother’s hands. “What are you reading, Corazón?”

Corazón jumped.

“Don’t keep them all to yourself, fufufu…”

Corazón rolled his eyes at him.

It wasn’t a porn magazine — which was a shame, Doflamingo definitely needed some new material, the models in his porn magazines were getting boring with similar physical features and poses — but a furniture magazine.

“Why are you looking through this stuff?” Doflamingo asked. “You want a new couch in the tea room or the study? An armchair in your bedroom?”

‘Just killing time,’ Corazón wrote. ‘I like reading through them.’

“If you say so,” said Doflamingo, not questioning his brother’s strange choice of entertainment at all. He sat down beside his little brother, spreading his legs to be more comfortable. “Oh, there are some nice armchairs…”

Corazón rolled his eyes at him, but Doflamingo’s trained eyes captured the slight movement of his brother’s lips curving into a tiny smile.

Doflamingo felt his chest swell with happiness at the sight of it. He’d buy Rosi some more furniture magazines at the port tomorrow. The magazines seemed to put his brother in a good mood.

***

You knew that at this point, your face had been squashed against the soft, warm red fabric of Doflamingo’s suit for what felt like hours, and you had learned exactly what Doflamingo smelled like against your own will.

Much like Rosinante turned selectively mute with Doflamingo, you turned selectively deaf. You stayed aware enough of his words as he happily — way too happily — told you all about his ‘family’. You hummed affirmatively when you knew you needed to.

“And that’s everyone,” said Doflamingo. “I know Lao G’s puns may sound...” He paused for a moment, humming to himself. “Repetitive, but he never sticks with one word. You have to admit, he has a large vocabulary. Large. There’s the g! Fufufu!”

“What about you?” he asked, his deep voice carrying across the clouds and sky like the loud voice of a god. “Any friends in Marineford? Or on that island I snatched you from?”

His long fingers moved, deploying more strings, pulling himself forward in a blast of speed, the feathers of his coat guarding your left ear from the hard wind pressure. His arm was squeezing you to him so tight your right ear was safely guarded by your right cheek being smothered to his suit.

“No,” you said, cryptically enough for him not to know whether it was a lie or not. You didn’t want to put anyone in danger.

“I see...” said Doflamingo, letting the words hang in the air as he flew over the sea. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be friends with everyone in the Family. We’re not as uptight as the marines and people of Marineford.”

You felt your brows furrow in anger. Marines and the people of Marineford were not uptight. You’d know — you grew up there. It was no Water 7, Sabaody Archipelago or Dressrosa by natural beauty, but it was the safest place in the world, and most of the people there were kind and always helped each other.

You opened your mouth to tell him just that, to tell him the marines were a thousand times better —

“Don’t,” came Rosinante’s voice, cutting you off before you could open your mouth. “He wants to make you talk, let you reveal personal information about your life by discarding it as worthless. It’s a trap. Don’t fall for it.”

You clamped your mouth shut, softly exhaling through your nose, letting your tense muscles loosen.

Something cold landed on your eyelashes; it felt fresh and chilly. It was a snowflake. You blinked it away, adjusting your neck to be able to look at the sky better. Snowflakes soundlessly descended down the sky. They twinkled and shone under the sun. A few of the white crystals landed on Doflamingo’s coat, littering the pink feathers with dots of white. More snowflakes landed on his blond hair and atop the white frames surrounding the red lenses of his sunglasses. They were swept away by the brush of wind with the next leap of his long legs, scattering to the wind. The entire colours of the sky turned frosty, dimming in the cold climate.

You were clearly travelling away from the edge of the Calm Belt bordering the island you’d lived on for the past few years. The few islands that didn’t experience the harsh, long North Blue winters filled with endless snow were the ones close to the Calm Belt.

“There she is,” said Doflamingo fondly, gathering your attention.

For a moment, you thought the ship was a huge flamingo floating on the sea.

The figurehead was exactly as Rosinante had told you when describing the flamboyant ship reflecting Doflamingo’s entire personality; a flamingo’s long, curved pink neck and head, the flamingo wearing Doflamingo’s red sunglasses. The flanks of the ship were covered with a layer of thick pink-painted oak wood carved like a flamingo’s folded wings. The front hull and back hull were made of red cedar, framed by white wood. The deck was surrounded by a white balustrade supported by thick vase-shaped balusters topped with a thick top rail covered with a thin pile of snow.

As Doflamingo flew closer to the massive pink vessel, you saw the white sail with a large, cerise grinning smiley with its left eye crossed out hung from the dark red wooden yards of the foremast, the large cerise letters DONQUIXOTE written underneath on the same sail. Above the two crows nests, black flags with the same jolly roger painted white waved high in the wind. The stern was shaped into a curved, pink bird tail.

The only ships that huge you’ve seen were the marine warships.

It was ridiculous, and yet, there was a certain charm to it. It was so pink.

“Numancia Flamingo,” said Doflamingo proudly. “My home.” He grinned down at you, and you felt your stomach sink in dread; you decided you liked it better when he didn’t smile. “And now yours, too.”

You felt like the chill of the falling snow entered your skin. Doflamingo called it home, but the closer you grew to the ship, the worse your gut felt, and what was once a cute ship started feeling intimidating despite its child-friendly design.

You saw something move atop the crow’s nest. It was a big blob of what appeared to you as blue slime. You stared in shock as you saw the large blue blob fall off the main crow’s nest and down to the deck.

Was that thing... That person that just dropped from the main crow’s nest looked like slime.

“We’re going down,” Doflamingo informed you, his musky scent and deep voice filling your senses.

With surprising smoothness, Doflamingo landed on the deck of the ship. The walnut hardwood floor of the deck was covered with a thin sheet of snow.

You watched in horror as the slime you saw turned out to be a large, hunchback man.

The slime is a human. you thought panically, staring at the hunchback man in shock and disbelief. The slime is a human!

“Welcome back, Doffy!” said the man nasally.

Despite having a hunchback, he was taller than Doflamingo by about half a meter. He wore a green bowler hat, and a pair of black sunglasses covered his eyes. His appearance was ragged and unkempt, with a long, thick beard; he looked like some sort of helpless beggar you’d see in the back alley, someone you’d stay the hell away from. A long, ragged light blue coat that seemed to be made of dripping mucus and slime covered his entire body and hunchback; the mucus constantly trailed from the hem; it was like he was a living slime. His broad nose had snot hanging out of it, which nearly made you gag at the sight of the size of the snot. He held a cane in his right gloved hand.

“Any trouble while I was gone?” asked Doflamingo, calm and authoritative.

Thinking it was over, you tried to get out of Doflamingo��s long arms with some squirming, but his gloved, large fingers dug into your shin, pressing into your bones. The sudden jab of pain made you wince, turning still.

“None, behe!” said the large man covered in snot, his thick lips pulling into a smile; his teeth were round with some spaces between them. All the hairs on your nape stood on end. Something in your gut told you how dangerous this man was, no matter how unkempt his appearance was; you knew better than to judge someone’s strength based on appearance alone. “We’re still on a stable course for Beliera.”

This guy must be Trebol. Rosinante had warned you about him the most. Trebol had been the one to give Doflamingo means of “taking revenge” and giving him power in the shape of a devil fruit and a gold plated flintlock pistol.

It must have been terrible for Rosinante. To have the same gun used to kill his father facing him next.

A swell of sadness filled you.

Rosinante...

You clenched your teeth, your jaw clenching as a surge of anger boiled in your chest. Sadness and anger mixed within you, the first for Rosinante, the latter for Doflamingo.

“Don’t underestimate him.” Rosinante once told you when showing you pictures of the Donquixote Pirates. “The mucus is just a way to hide how weak his body is, but it's hard to find it because of the mucus. That entire coat is made of mucus. He’s a Paramecia, not a Logia. If you’re gonna aim for him, aim for his face.”

“Good,” said Doflamingo, his deep, commanding voice startling you out of your thoughts. “Gather the Family in the dining room so I can introduce her properly.”

“Yes, Doffy,” said Trebol. He was much taller than Doflamingo, wider as well, taking up three times the space of a normal man.

You could feel Trebol’s eyes watching you behind his black sunglasses, and suddenly, you decided you could endure being in Doflamingo’s arms a bit longer if it meant not getting any closer to this creep.

“So, this is her, eh?” Trebol tilted his head down at you curiously, a smile that reminded you of leers of old men on his face. You forced yourself to glare at his sunglasses, clenching your jaw, frowning, trying to make yourself appear as angry as possible. Better to show anger than fear. “She’s cute.”

Doflamingo grimaced at the taller man. “You’re too close, Trebol.”

“Behe, sorry!” Trebol leaned his towering body away from you, and looked at Doflamingo, asking, “Will she sleep with Giolla and Baby 5 in their room?”

“No,” said Doflamingo. Slowly, he smiled, that devilish, unsettling grin, and patted the top of your head with his free hand; you stiffened up, since his hand was bigger than your head. “She’ll sleep with me in my quarters.”

You stopped breathing. Your heart stopped. You could feel the colour drain from your face, could feel yourself turn as pale as the snow on the balustrade and the figurehead.

No. No no no no no. Anything but that.

You went to open your mouth to tell him that you’d be fine sleeping in the bunks in the women’s quarters, but Trebol’s laugh cut you off.

“Behehe! She’s cute!” said Trebol. “Who’d think Corazón was hiding such a cute woman.”

Your skin crawled. Before you could stop it, you shivered. Between this creep and Doflamingo, you’d choose Doflamingo any day.

You couldn’t believe this. You were surrounded by pirates, you were on a pirate ship. This was a nightmare. Absolute nightmare. You felt sick. You were so terrified you were going to throw up what little breakfast you had on the deck.

Following your trail of thought, your stomach let out a small, low grumble.

Doflamingo turned his face down to you with a curious hum, slouching down to you, craning his neck, bending over you. He had no sense of personal space, and it seemed he wasn’t going to offer any of it to you.

“Fufufu!” Doflamingo smiled at you, the sharp smile chilling you to the bones. His gloved thumb rubbed your bare, goosebumped shin; you would have yelped, shrieked and jumped if you weren’t two meters high from the ground. “Seems someone’s hungry. Don’t worry. We made it right on time for lunch.”

Heat climbed up your neck, enveloping your cheeks. It was embarrassing to have your stomach growl like that near strangers.

Doflamingo headed to the foremast of the ship, under which stood a circular cabin. With his free hand, he deployed a string, opening the large wooden door. It was a navigation room and an office, full of maps and books. There was a wide tunnel of staircases leading below deck.

Doflamingo walked down the wide, wooden staircase to the underbelly of the ship. He turned into the first arch of the cabin doors, and swung them open, entering into the timber labyrinth of the first level of the ship.

Your jaw nearly dropped. The ceiling was about ten meters high. The panelled walls decorated with intricately detailed wall mouldings were painted a luxurious light blue shade of periwinkle, framed with thin, narrow, ornate strips of gold. On the opposite wall, between the portholes, ornate paintings of all styles and themes in golden frames hung every few meters. They weren’t normal paintings bought at a market. Your eyes widened when you saw a painting of the lighthouse at the starting point of the Grand Line. It looked real.

“Isn’t that Monet’s Grand Line Lighthouse?” you asked, staring at the detailed oil painting.

“It is,” said Doflamingo.

“It’s -” you started.

“Three hundred million berries,” said Doflamingo, smile wide and big, sending shivers down your spine. “It was stolen in an underground auction.”

It wasn’t just this painting. All these paintings were reported to be stolen over the last six years in North Blue. Some were stolen from rich noble’s houses, from auctions, from museums, from art galleries…

“You stole it?” you asked, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” said Doflamingo, still smiling, seemingly pleased you caught on so quickly. It was unnerving how long he could smile for. “That was fun. You should’ve seen how delighted Giolla was when Corazón and I brought it aboard — like I brought her the most precious treasure in the world, fufufu! I didn’t let Corazón carry it. It would’ve ended up broken on the street with him.”

“You like stealing, huh?” you asked him.

Doflamingo hummed. He tilted his head down at you, giving you another smile which made your body squirm on the inside.

“I like stealing beautiful things and making them my own.” he said.

You had a sinking feeling this wasn’t limited to objects.

Right as you thought this, Doflamingo’s right gloved hand reached down to your face. The suddenness of it had your entire body retreating further into the crook of his elbow. Your breathing picked up; you could feel your own terror in the loud thumping of your heartbeat in your throat as you waited for whatever happened next.

Doflamingo tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear carefully, curving it behind your earlobe. The tip of his thumb brushed along the skin of your ear as he did so. Goosebumps rose on the nape of your neck. Your chest felt hot, rising and falling rapidly.

Doflamingo’s browline creased in amusement, the neutral line of his mouth quirking up, curving across his cheekbones smugly. You could imagine his narrowed, scrunched eyes laughing at you behind his sunglasses. It seemed he himself was struggling not to chuckle at how flighty you were.

“You really are a little canary,” he said, smiling devilishly, turning from mysterious and frightening to dangerously charming. “Shrieking like mad and fluttering about, but when I pick you up...”

His gloved thumb slid down your cheek, tracing along the softness before settling under your jaw; your breath caught, and you held it trapped in your lungs. You stiffened in his arms, looking up at him like a fish pulled out of the sea. Doflamingo’s mouth curved wider, lips opening into a devious grin of white teeth, forming dimples on his cheeks. You could feel his satisfaction at being right, at reading you like a book.

“You turn docile and sweet.”

Doflamingo chuckled. “How cute.”

He lifted his gloved thumb from your face, releasing you from his invisible grip, lowering his hand back to his side. You let out the breath you’d been holding. Doflamingo chuckled darkly again, and started moving again.

There was enough width to the hallway for two people of Doflamingo’s size to walk comfortably without brushing shoulders. Crystal sconces hung from the ceiling, swaying with the sea’s movements, casting soft shades of light into the hallway. The polished, hickory wood floor was covered by a dark red carpet runner, muffling his steps as he walked toward the end of the hallway leading to another set of doors.

Was this really a pirate ship?

“Have you sailed before?” he asked as he prowled through the hallway, steps muffled by the red rug.

“Yes,” you replied, continuing to look around; the portholes were crystal clear, showing the movement of the ship as the sea swayed by. The interior of the ship didn’t look very much like a pirate’s ship. “With the marines.”

“The white-coats must have been so uptight, fufufu!” Doflamingo flashed you a playful grin, but all it did was make you shiver in fear. “You’ll have much better sailing adventures with me.”

At the end of the hallway was another door, this one wooden and more fitting for a sailing ship, taller than Doflamingo, with a porthole window; you couldn’t see through it. There were voices coming through, muffled through the thick wood.

Doflamingo opened the doors, and entered the room. It was the galley. A long, large oak dining table covered by a silken mauve tablecloth spread out across the length of the large room. The main crew of the Dobquixote Pirates, the Donquixote Family, were all satten on the table.

The greetings of “Young Master!” and “Welcome back!” filled the dining area.

You felt the way Doflamingo’s body relaxed, his usually squared, pulled-back shoulders loosening, his chest deflating.

He gave the twelve people a warm smile. “I’m back.”

Doflamingo continued toward the table, carrying you.

Shame flooded you, self-consciousness swelling in your gut. You wanted to hide your face from view.

Doflamingo was unbothered by whatever emotions rolled within you, uncaring, no expression on his face as he walked through the galley packed with his crew members, carrying you cradled in one arm, his hand under your knees, warm and large. You felt like a puppy who he picked up on a whim and decided to take home with him.

The Donquixote Pirates were all huge. The ones of a normal height were the kids. But even the oldest kid, Buffalo, was as tall as one of the elite officers, Pica. Even the only female officer, Giolla, was over two meters tall.

Having been married to Rosinante for five years and often working closely with him on translating documents and decoding messages for his squad and the rest of the Navy, you grew a new habit. Whenever you entered a room, be it your house, a meeting, an office, your eyes instinctually searched for Rosinante.

Rosinante was the human equivalent of a warm hug.

All you felt in this room was the lack of warmth.

It didn’t take you long to feel it. The remnants of warmth, the feel of Rosinante’s presence. It was the empty chair on Trebol’s left.

If you weren’t so struck with grief at the awareness of being able to still sense Rosinante’s presence even if he hadn’t sat on that spot for six months, of being able to identify it was his seat even though you’d never been here, you would have laughed and broken down crying.

Law wasn’t here.

The relief you felt at this realization was indescribable. Law was safe. He was free from Doflamingo’s clutches and influence. It wasn’t all for nothing.

You felt like the odd one out right now. All the people gathered here were much, much taller than you. Sure, you were used to hanging around with people of differing heights while working for the marines, attending meetings and formal events with Rosinante many times. Rosi’s own crew consisted of marines taller than you, but at least he had two crewmates below two metres tall with whom you could converse without having to look up sky high.

You were… the shortest adult in the room now.

Doflamingo reached the end of the table where there were two chairs, one already occupied by Trebol. He put you down, and your feet touched the ground at last. You unwillingly used his leg to stabilize yourself as the ship sailed over the sea; you felt the difference in footing from it.

Twelve pairs of eyes were on you.

The thought of running for the doors crossed your mind, and was quickly vanquished when Doflamingo settled his large, gloved hand on your shoulder, his palm completely enveloping it, your shoulderblade and your upper arm. All your joints stiffened.

“This is Donquixote (Y/N). She’s my sister-in-law.” said Doflamingo, speaking the surname with the same pride as he did when saying it with his name. “I’m sure Diamante, Pica and Trebol set out the rules before we returned, but I’ll repeat them again. I’m instigating the Blood Law on her. If anyone harms her, outside or inside of the Family, I will put them to death. She has no battle experience or any fighting ability. She’s a civilian, and a translator. Since she’s mourning Corazón’s passing —”

What an elegant way to say murder.

“— she doesn’t have to work unless she wants to. Be kind to her and get along.”

The replies of, “Understood,” and “Yes, Young Master.” went around the table.

Doflamingo removed his immense hand from your left shoulder, and your body slumped in relief. Thank the fucking seas.

You took the chance to look over at Doflamingo’s crew. They weren’t that frightening.

You gulped.

Not frightening at all.

You wanted to glare at them and say, “I don’t like any of you. I don’t want to be friends with you. I hate you all, and I’m going to kick your asses.”

That’s something someone brave would do. Someone like Wulf. He would probably say, “I hate each and every one of you shitheads and you better keep one eye open while you sleep because I’m going to kill you all.”

But Wulf had something to back it up. He had his Devil Fruit, his battle experience, his Haki.

All someone like you — someone normal — could do was wish you were more like your husband, or your husband’s best friend. All someone like you did was feel a thick tightness of terror surround your throat whenever you thought of saying something; it was paralysing fear. One pirate, you could act tough in front of, especially Doflamingo. Twelve pirates, all loyal to Doflamingo, ready to kill you if you put a toe out of line and did something to hurt their captain? Not a group you'd pick a fight with.

You might as well be a delicious little tuna fish thrown into shark-infested waters. Wulf could pick fights with everyone. You couldn’t. You didn't have the luxury of being reckless now, of telling them outright you don’t want to be in the same room as them. You couldn’t piss them off. You couldn’t attack them. You had to stay civil and avoid them. That was the best way to survive for you.

You were deep in the enemy territory, and your best choice was not to antagonize them and stay out of their way.

“Trebol, pass the chair,” said Doflamingo, gesturing with his chin to the empty chair — Rosinante’s chair.

“Yes, Doffy!” said Trebol.

The man grabbed Rosinante’s chair like it weighed nothing, and next thing you knew, Doflamingo had put it on the right of the empty chair next to Trebol; you jumped a little when Doflamingo put it down.

“Take a seat,” said Doflamingo, pulling out the chair for you. You found yourself sitting down in a mere moment, listening to him without realising it.

Doflamingo sat down on the chair on your left, took the napkin beside his plate, and tucked the napkin into his collar to protect his suit and tie. He took off his gloves and put them in the pockets of his merlot suit pants, revealing his long, smooth, tanned, puppeteering fingers. The sight of them filled you with a terrible sense of helplessness.

He put you on your husband’s empty seat. Talk about a bullet to the gut. A bullet to the gut would have hurt less.

If I don’t punch this bastard in the face at least once in my life, then I have failed as a human being. you thought, glaring at Doflamingo.

You nervously eyed the table. None of Doflamingo’s crew was too heavily eyeing you. Good. The more they ignored you, the easier your life would be.

Talk about being satten between two boulders. Doflamingo was sitting at the head and center of the table with you sitting on his right. Diamante, the tallest of the crew at five meters tall, looming two meters taller than Doflamingo, was on your right, on the first seat on the length of the table. At least Diamante wasn’t as broad in shoulders and torso as Doflamingo was, and you had plenty of space to dine comfortably. In fact, Diamante was slender and lanky all around; he reminded you of those slender, long-limbed rock singers you watched on the projector snail, who wore face makeup and had long hair. He looked like he could fit right into a rock band as an electric guitarist.

Pica, who sat on Diamante’s right, was the complete opposite. He was huge, like a human boulder, with a hulking frame and incredibly muscular body; his arms were thicker than the width of your head. His lavender hair was much like Diamante’s; wavy and long, hanging down to his shoulders. The golden, three-spiked shoulder guards covering his shoulders made you shiver.

You felt sweat coat your palms. This was bad. You were surrounded by the strongest people in the crew and Doflamingo. There was no slipping away.

Well… there was always the dive under the table and try to make it out before they catch you idea.

The servants came in, carrying plates of appetizers. Doflamingo called one of the maids over with a wave of his hand.

“Take these to my cabin,” Doflamingo ordered, taking the bouquet of primroses from where it laid in your lap; the action was so sudden it made you jump when the flowers suddenly disappeared. “Put them on my office desk.”

“Yes, sir,” said the servant, carefully taking the bouquet, mindful not to touch Doflamingo while doing so. Doflamingo didn’t even look in the woman’s way, as though she didn’t even exist.

You frowned. A royal through and through, this brother of yours, Rosinante.

That commanding, overpowering tone of Doflamingo’s sent chills down your spine. It was clear Doflamingo was used to ordering people around and grew up doing it; he expected people to obey him.

Rosinante was completely different. He was always polite with all the staff wherever he went, speaking politely to them, thanking them for their help and work.

For appetisers, the servants served deviled eggs topped with shrimps.

Deviled eggs — how ironic. The devil was literally sitting on your left. You grabbed your fork and stabbed through the shrimp and the hard-boiled egg, and took a careful bite, neither too big or too small. The tastes mixed together pleasantly; eggs, shrimps, mustard, mayonnaise, garlic, paprika and salt.

Beside you, Doflamingo did the same thing, eating the deviled eggs slowly, picking them off one by one. Unlike you, who got six of them, Doflamingo got twelve, but he was picking them off at a slower pace than you were.

That was weird.

Wait… how many pancakes did you put on that plate?

Ten? No, the pile was taller than ten…

Of course. The pink-feathered idiot’s stuffed himself full of pancakes, of course he can’t eat more right now!

He really is Rosi’s brother! Rosinante did the same thing once. Once, and never again. For a reason.

And here you thought Doflamingo was supposed to be the smarter one.

These Donquixote brothers and their eyes bigger than their stomachs!

Furrowing your brows, you reached out with your foot and tapped the side of Doflamingo’s dress boot. He shifted slightly, then turned his head toward you, that cold expression on his face momentarily frightening you. He leaned his head down to you.

“You ate more than ten pancakes, didn’t you?” you whispered to him.

Doflamingo’s lips curled; whether he was amused by the frightening effect his presence had on you or your question, you couldn’t tell.

“So?” he asked.

“So, you won’t be able to eat much.” you said, voice steadier now. “Pancakes are filling.”

Doflamingo merely smirked, guiltless and arrogant, patting his red suit where his stomach was happily. “That they were, fufufufu!”

You counted to five inside your head not to snap at him.

“You won’t be able to eat,” you said.

“You underestimate my appetite.” said Doflamingo, smirking confidently.

Rosinante said the same thing. Then he overate, eating a full serving of thirty pancakes. And ended up sleeping the rest of the day away.

Doflamingo leaned back from you and went back to the food.

“Is the food not good, Doffy?” asked Diamante.

“No,” said Doflamingo calmly. “The food is fine. I already ate. My sister-in-law here made me pancakes.”

This fucking pancake-thieving, lying —

“Pancakes, you say?” asked Diamante, tossing four deviled eggs into his massive mouth. “She made you pancakes?”

Doflamingo simply grinned like a child who got the best candy.

“I didn’t make them for him. Your captain stole them.” you said, unable to take it anymore. The last thing you wanted was for these criminals to think you could be stepped on, that Doflamingo managed to scare you into making him pancakes, or worse, that you offered them to him.

Diamante chuckled. “Free food is free food, missus.”

“They were delicious. Best pancakes I ever had.” said Doflamingo, chuckling like a giddy child who didn’t regret his actions at all; except his voice was deep as the sea and not the innocent squeak of a child. It made your insides squirm fearfully.

You frowned at him, hating how flippant he was about it, how casual. You could tell Doflamingo was never disciplined for anything he did — ever — in his entire life. It was frightening, because that meant he would do whatever he wanted to do, which made him incredibly unpredictable.

“Well, now I want some.” said Diamante, and you felt your entire body tense up like a cat’s. You didn’t want to make pancakes for Doflamingo, and you certainly didn’t want to make pancakes for any of his crew, for the people who hurt your husband.

Because there was no way Rosinante would have gotten killed in a one on one fight against Doflamingo. He’d have gotten away. He wouldn’t have gotten killed.

“Sure,” said Doflamingo, chuckling, not even asking for your opinion, whether you wanted to make a bastard like Diamante the pancakes you only made for your friends and family — for Rosinante. “I’ll have the chef show her around the kitchen tomorrow and help her out.”

You wonder why on earth you would need help from the ship’s chef or cooks to make something as simple as pancakes, but after a moment, it dawned on you. They wouldn’t be there to help you out. They’d be there to watch you, to make sure you don’t poison the food.

It was slightly insulting to you, really. To you, food was something sacred, something that shouldn’t be used to kill people with. You’d never poison food, not after spending so much time making it. You never really thought of that. You haven’t thought about hurting Doflamingo in the ways assassins would.

In truth, you wouldn’t dare.

You looked at Doflamingo. Here, eating with his crew, conversing with them, he looked almost friendly. Almost... harmless.

It terrified you, how harmless Doflamingo looked while dining with his ‘family’. Just an hour ago, he was the materialisation of a villain, sitting on your couch with a ruthless, cold look on his face, sneering at you. Now Doflamingo looked warm, comforting, like a family man.

After the plates were clear - Doflamingo gave the leftovers on his plate to Diamante “Well, if you insist!” What the hell? Does Diamante have some sort of need for affirmation of his greatness? - the servants picked them up.

It all felt so regal and peaceful, so unlike what you expected of pirates. Most of them were still messy eaters, such as Diamante and Trebol, and Buffalo was no better, either. But people like Giolla, Gladius, Pica and Señor Pink were nothing short of neat eaters. Doflamingo ate differently in public than Rosinante did. When eating in public, Rosinante always dove into his plate, hunching over it protectively, eating as fast as possible. You knew why. It always broke your heart. After Rosinante told you of his two years of childhood with his family in the North Blue, it made you realise that Rosinante did his best not to show you that part of himself on the first few dates because he was ashamed of it.

Doflamingo ate like royalty, like a king. It was so obvious he had a noble upbringing it was funny. The way he cut his food, the way he stabbed it with a fork, the way he brought the fork in his mouth, and how he made next to no sounds while chewing, keeping his mouth closed, and the tissue in his collar and over his lap. Most people wouldn’t notice it. But you got to see Rosinante eat when he was relaxed, when he was alone with you, not in public when his ‘eat as much as you can or someone might take it from you’ instinct won over. And he ate alone with you in the exact same way as Doflamingo was doing now. With grace and elegance only high nobles had.

You remembered how you gawked at Rosinante the first time you saw him like that — the first time he invited you over for dinner at his place — unable not to feel awed by simply watching such a beautiful, mannered man with his head held high and lanky frame straight and relaxed, eat the food you two made together. Eventually, over the years, Rosinante got more comfortable eating in public and not rushing (though he did still take a lot on his first serving during public events like barbeques in case all the meat and burgers were gone by the time he wanted seconds) letting himself enjoy the food and savour it.

The public meals you hosted — and all the public parties you and Rosinante were invited to on the island — always had enough for endless servings. You made sure of that.

The main dish was baked sausage and cheese rigatoni; pasta and sausage with thick, melty ricotta and provolone cheese baked through and crisped and crusty on top, served in a deep, large baking dish.

You always gave Rosinante five times the size of a normal portion, and every time, he was over the moon. Rosi always ate everything on his plate, and always asked for seconds and thirds. It made you worry you weren’t giving him big enough portions, but Rosi later confessed that he ate so much because it was so good he couldn’t physically stop eating.

The moment Rosinante patted his stomach and said with a happy sigh, “I’m full!” you were overjoyed. Rosinante worked hard while undercover, and you wanted to always welcome him with a meal, to take care of him as he took care of you. If you ever missed his return — sometimes he arrived late — you made sure to get up early to prepare him pancakes.

The same pancakes you prepared for yourself in an attempt to comfort yourself.

The same pancakes Doflamingo devoured after breaking into your house.

Doflamingo, Trebol, Diamante and Pica got their own rigatoni in jumbo sized baking dishes placed in front of them. It didn’t surprise you they got entire servings for themselves; they required much more calories and nutrients than normal-sized people.

You picked up your fork and knife and started eating.

Fuck, this is delicious.

Eating beside Doflamingo felt like eating beside a lion. The last thing you wanted to risk was bumping elbows with him. You also knew you couldn’t curl your body in and take as little space as possible. It would make you appear weak. You decided to sit as casually, as normally, as possible with the pink demon sitting beside you, the feathers of his coat brushing your elbows as you ate, forcing the food into your mouth.

Doflamingo looked like a chipmunk with his mouth full and cheeks puffed out — much like Rosinante.

If you didn’t look above his chin, if you focused on just his jawline and the curve of his chin from his side profile, if not for Doflamingo’s tanned skin, you would definitely expect Rosinante’s features to materialise up above, his brown eyes instead of Doflamingo’s red sunglasses, his curly tufts of blond hair over his ears rather than spiked-back blond hair revealing the ears completely, one earring dangling from each.

You shook your head off of the image, blinking away the image of Rosinante, your vision shifting back to reality.

That’s Doflamingo. Not Rosinante.

“Figured out the parts of me more attractive than my brother’s or do you want a closer look, darling?” Doflamingo asked, startling you.

You stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Doflamingo wasn’t even looking in your direction. You didn’t realise he noticed you looking at him.

How could you realise? All his sunglasses revealed were what he was looking at, and sometimes, such as now, it wasn’t even that, because his red-orange lenses were reflecting the way his face was turned, the length of the table, the room. But in truth, his eyes were on you.

“No, thank you.” you said simply, and returned back to eating. It wasn't that Doflamingo wasn’t handsome. He is. But he is the sort of handsome man that was bad news for women. The macho sort of man oozing with masculinity. The dangerous sort of man, the one who could command an entire country, the one with so much pride it could overflow the Grand Line. Some women were attracted to that. You preferred gentle, honest men who wore their heart on their sleeve over dangerous ones who barely communicated, who gave you cold looks, and you won’t even get started with those men’s hearts.

Absolute nightmare.

You heard Doflamingo huff an amused breath through his nose, the line of his mouth quirking into a curve of an arrogant smirk. He chuckled. The sound sent goosebumps up your spine.

“Tough woman, isn’t she?” you heard Doflamingo say to Trebol.

“You’re definitely more handsome, Doffy, behehe!” Trebol said.

You continued chewing in silence.

Wine started pouring all across the table.

All of the wine bottles were dark green, with the same label name Petrus on the middle of their label. They were one of the expensive red wines in the Grand Line. It was the sort of wine you saw Fleet Admiral Sengoku sip at when he had dinner with you and Rosinante.

Doflamingo took the bottle in front of him, and poured the dark red liquid into his glass of wine, filling more than half of it with the rich red wine. It was the same colour as his suit.

Then, Doflamingo’s large hand holding the wine bottle extended to your glass, clearly intending to pour the wine for you.

Your heart dropped to your stomach.

Oh, hell no. Hell to the One Piece no.

You snatched your glass into your hand and pulled it toward yourself, meeting his feigned innocent face with a firm, hard glare.

You reached forward and grabbed the jug of orange juice, and poured yourself a full cup into the wine bottle beside your plate. Once you poured enough of the orange juice, you placed the jug back onto its place on the table with a firm thud.

Doflamingo scowled, as though you’d hurt him, then turned back to his glass, and poured himself more wine, continuing to scowl.

That’s right. Drink your tantrum away, asshole. Get alcohol poisoning, see if I care. Oh, boohoo, I can’t pour wine while sneaking some drug into my sister-in-law’s glass, poor me. Fuck. You.

After Doflamingo poured his wine, he slammed the bottle down with a resounding, loud, rattling THUD! The table wobbled, shaking from the impact, as though an earthquake hit it.

You jumped in your seat, flinching violently. Some of the officers were startled as well, slowing down in their dining. The blond toddler with a fin on his back clutched onto Giolla’s orange dress, looking more worried for you than scared of Doflamingo.

That was fine. You were scared enough.

Your heart beating in your ears, you moved your eyes up to Doflamingo, holding your breath in your lungs. Doflamingo was looking at you, his forehead and browline scrunched, his anger leaking out of him in silent waves, all directed at you. Veins throbbed along the length of his thick neck, his jaw clenched.

You realised you were trembling.

Diamante snickered at you.

You clenched your teeth. Unbelievable.

Damn it. Fuck. Damn it.

You’re shaking… just from that? What the hell is wrong with you? You’re the wife of a Navy commander. You shouldn’t show fear, especially in front of pirates.

You pressed your fingers deep into your thigh, hoping the pain would force your body into settling down. Breathe. You had to breathe.

You breathed in, and breathed out.

You broke eye contact, looking away from Doflamingo, metaphorically backing down and submitting. The thick, suffocating air bearing down on you slowly retreated.

“Next time you do that, it will be your head smashing on that table, Corazón’s little wife.” said Diamante, while Doflamingo looked at you with his mputh downturned, forehead furrowed, his face cold and heartless. He looked like he was going to kill you in cold blood just like he killed Rosinante. “Doffy can crack your skull open if he wants to.”

“Diamante,” said Doflamingo. The suddennes of hearing his deep voice filled your veins with ice. There was an outline of blood vessels forming on his forehead. “Enough. How I deal with my sister-in-law is up to me. She’s already terrified enough as it is. Play nice.”

“Of course, Doffy,” said Diamante. “I was just giving her friendly advice.”

Doflamingo went back to eating.

You made sure to empty your plate. You felt like Doflamingo was intently watching you eat, and you could feel that he wanted you to eat everything on your plate. Doflamingo finished half of his meal, and as he did with the deviled eggs, offered the leftovers for Diamante to eat.

It reminded you of a master giving his uneaten leftovers to his dogs.

The main dishes were taken away and the dessert came. You felt your traitorous mouth water at the sight. It was a chocolate souffle, covered in chocolate syrup.

Doflamingo waved the server away when they wanted to place his plate in front of him.

You fought back a smirk. Those pancakes are finally hitting, huh?

“I’ll take his,” you said with far too much enthusiasm, smiling at the server. “Can’t waste it, can we?”

The server glanced nervously at Doflamingo, asking for permission.

“Give it to her,” commanded Doflamingo frigidly.

“Y-Yes, sir,” stuttered the server. He placed the second plate in front of yours.

“Thank you,” you said politely to the server, with a lot of satisfaction.

Doflamingo stared at you intensely. Especially so as you hummed, lifting your spoon and taking a large spoonful of the delicious souffle.

You ignored him and started devouring the souffle. It was delicious like the rest of the meals.

You felt the weight of Doflamingo’s presence shifting. He leaned over to you, resting his long forearm on the table, more of the pink feathers of his coat gathering against your left thigh.

This time, you did look. You wished you didn’t. Doflamingo was leaning over you like a bird of prey towering over a mouse, his neck and spine bent.

Doflamingo’s large tongue slipped out, licking along his lips hungrily. He continued hovering over your meal like a lion patiently waiting for the lioness to be done eating so he could have a taste of the meal.

The way he was looking at the souffle… one would think he wanted to do unspeakable, lewd things to the poor thing.

Doflamingo lifted his face up from the angle where he’d been staring down at the souffle and looked right at you, his face relaxed, mouth curved into a close-lipped, wide smile, warm and charming.

You inhaled sharply, nearly gasping in shock. You recognised that look.

The Donquixote puppy look.

No. That can’t be.

You didn’t think Doflamingo was capable of that!

“Who do you think taught me the look?” Rosinante asked you; you could imagine him deadpanning, giving Doflamingo an unimpressed look.

That makes sense, but is also incredibly disturbing.

Doflamingo leaned closer, until his face was right in front of yours, his nose an inch from yours, that charming expression still on his face.

Your stomach clenched and squirmed. You cast your eyes left and right panically, but you could feel the heat of energy pressing upon you, the unspoken words clearly said by the expression on Doflamingo’s face.

Won’t you give me the souffle won’t you give me the souffle won’t you give me the souffle, just a bite, just a bite, won’t you be nice and give me the souffle?

It was too much. There was no way to fight against it.

You could feel the heat of the blush on your cheeks, could feel the strangeness in your stomach, the wide openness of your eyes, taking in the handsome man in front of you; the same reaction you had when Rosi had gotten in as close as Doflamingo was now, with his nose an inch from yours, with that pleading look on his face.

There was no pleading in Doflamingo’s expression, simply… pure, sheer charm. He looked completely innocent.

It was overwhelmingly charming. All your determination and walls crumbled away while facing such a look.

Damn Donquixote puppy eyes.

Not that you can see Doflamingo’s eyes, but you can feel them. The bastard was giving you his puppy eyes, or something like it!

There was no use fighting it.

You took two spoonfuls and put them on Doflamingo’s plate. He beamed like you just gave him the world, the dimples of his cheeks full of triumph.

Did you just get charmed into giving him the souffle?

Yes.

Yes, you did.

All Doflamingo did was relax, his face softening into a look of warmth, removing any roughness from it, and curving a close-lipped, charming, entreating smile onto his mouth, leaning forward until he was extremely close that one more inch would make his nose brush yours, and that was that.

It hadn’t even been deceitful. It had been an honest look speechlessly asking you to give him just a bit of the souffle, just so he can try it.

What the hell? What the fucking hell was that?! What is wrong with me?! What the hell?!

Doflamingo just… Doflamingo looked so…

Cute.

What was worse was... He wasn’t leaning back. He was still there. His face remained right in front of yours, that innocent close-lipped smile on his face.

Doflamingo was unabashedly staring at you now, and was uncomfortably close, his large hand resting on his cheek, his tall body lounging and... Enjoying the view.

The view of you.

It reminded you of —

Rosinante clung to your legs, his long arms wrapped around your legs in two layers because of their length. He was crying openly, his long body sprawled out across the floor as you dragged yourself — with a lot of effort because you were lugging a one-hundred-seventy kilogram giant that decided to flop down and not move — and the second plate full of ume mochi you made to the table. His feet covered in his donkey-themed slippers were so long they touched the end of the wall of the dining room.

You were starting to sweat now, losing your breath as you dragged yourself forward with nothing but determination. Rosinante was so heavy… It felt like a baby elephant laid down, wrapped its tusk around your legs, and was waiting to be dragged around by you.

Rosinante was always mindful not to put his entire weight on you, but he had no shame in using all of it against you when he needed to, it seemed.

Like right now, when he was begging to eat your mochi.

“I never thought I’d say this in our marriage, but…” You sighed, took a deep breath, and yelled, “Rosinante, get off of me!”

Rosinante was not discouraged.

“Pleaaaaseee!” he cried, lifting up his face to you; you froze at the cuteness you were faced with; soft, shining, warm brown eyes full of tears and a pleading, sweet, handsome face of a man who might as well be an angel. “Just a little bit! I can eat it, I promise!”

“Rosinante, you can’t have the mochi. You’re going to get sick from overeating.” you said, putting on your best stern look. “You’re going to get sick from overeating. You already have a stomachache!”

You couldn’t let yourself be influenced by your husband’s puppy eyes; he always used that weapon against you, and with Law sitting here at the table watching the scene in utter bafflement, you had to at least appear mature and not melt under Rosinante’s sweet face and gaze as you usually would. You couldn’t give into it!

“B-But...” Rosinante managed through his sniffles. “You made it... You worked hard on it... I wanna eat it...”

“That’s what you get for stuffing yourself with (Y/N)-san’s pancakes, Cora-san.” said Law with a blank, blunt tone that would make even the toughest marine feel like they got shot in the heart.

‘Cora-san can stuff himself with my pancakes and other things of me any time,’ you thought, but didn’t say. The smile that came across your lips while you had that thought might have betrayed you. Thankfully, both the man and the boy remained none the wiser, focused on their conversation.

“You’re so cruel, Law!” cried Rosinante, tears streaming down his face. Law sweatdropped at your husband's emotional reaction.

Law put another mochi into his mouth. He didn’t like umeboshi or plums of any kind, so you filled his mochi with black sesame paste instead, which he seemed to enjoy. You only made the ume mochi because you had to use up the leftovers and intended to eat the plate you were carrying yourself.

Your husband who had spent the entire afternoon on the couch digesting the thirty pancakes he ate had other plans.

“Look! He’s eating! He’s doing it on purpose!” Rosinante gasped. “He smirked! He just smirked! The little smartass smirked at me!”

You couldn’t believe your husband was fighting with a sick, small thirteen-year-old boy who didn’t even reach to his knees.

“That’s because Law ate his serving of the pancakes in moderation like a normal human being, unlike you, who ate five servings!”

“I couldn’t help it! They were so delicious!” He smiled goofily, dreamily. “And we couldn’t have wasted the mixture!”

“We could have had the mixture for dessert after dinner or put it overnight for tomorrow, you know this! That’s how we always do it! You let your stomach make your decisions for you!”

“Just a bite!” insisted Rosinante.

“No!”

“One bite, por favor!”

Law took another mochi, amused by the scene in front of him.

You sighed. “Rosi…”

“Please.” whimpered Rosinante, sniffling.

"Fine," you said, giving in. "But only one!"

Rosinante beamed like you just gave him the world.

Rosinante let go of you. Free at last, you took one of the ume mochi from the pile and gave it to him. Rosinante grabbed it and bit into the soft, mellowy mochi, chewing through it with eyes closed, moaning happily, lost in deep bliss.

“Delicious!” said Rosinante cheerfully, cheeks blushing a sweet pink, a big smile blooming on his face. “Thank you!”

And just by that face Rosinante made, you fell in love with him all over again. Your heart bloomed, butterflies flying wild in your stomach.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and cradled your husband’s face, bent down and kissed him deeply, wrapping your arms around his thick neck and strong shoulders, burying your fingers in his fluffy, wavy blond hair.

Rosinante made a surprised sound, but he recovered quickly, closing his eyes, kissing you back, his large hands sliding around your body, pulling you flush to his warm, broad, strong chest.

Rosinante hummed, smiling lovingly into the kiss.

“Really?!” asked Law, baring his teeth like an angry gremlin at the two of you. “Right in front of my mochi? Get a room!”

You giggled, exchanging one more kiss with Rosinante before parting from him.

Rosinante looked adoringly at you, his half-lidded brown eyes full of love.

“Stop staring at her like a lovesick puppy, Cora-san!”

Rosinante giggled.

“Nope,” he said playfully, continuing to stare at you lovingly, looking completely smitten, a goofy, dreamy smile on his face. You were starting to smile despite yourself, feeling yourself blush more and more, staring at your husband lovingly, equally enchanted by him.

“I love my wife, and I’ll stare at her as long as I want!” announced Rosinante proudly.

Law stared at Rosinante in what could only be described as disgust and disappointment.

“If I ever become like Cora-san, I want to be shot.” said Law.

“Hey!” Rosinante whined.

You laughed, burying your fingers in Rosinante’s soft hair, gently petting his head to calm him down. He settled with a grunt, resting his cheek on your bosom, closing his eyes. He squeezed you tight in the encompassing embrace of his large arms, his palms easily wrapping around your waist, his fingertips on the middle of your back.

You rested your forehead on the crown of Rosinante’s head, closing your eyes, basking in the peace.

“I can eat the rest of the mochi if you two are gonna cuddle, right?” Law asked, eyeing you curiously.

You chuckled. “Sure, Law. But no more than five mochi for you.”

“Yes, (Y/N)-san,” said Law politely. “Don’t worry, I know how to count, unlike Cora-san.”

Law smirked like the mischievous boy he was; it was adorable.

Rosinante peeked his left eye open to look at Law. “If I wasn’t having a great time on my wife’s bosom, I would sooo eat all your mochi, Law.”

Law made a face. “You’re a perverted klutz, Cora-san.”

“A happily married perverted klutz,” said Rosinante proudly, lifting his arm and showing Law his hand with the gleaming, golden wedding band on his ring finger. “And don’t you forget it.”

You laughed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Law’s lips twitch into a tiny smile.

Your heart clenched painfully tight. You turned your head away from Doflamingo, back to your souffle.

Doflamingo’s charming expression shifted, his brows furrowing when you looked away from him, when the blush on your face faded away as well as the reflection of him in your wide eyes.

“Young Master, you can have all of mine!” said Gladius enthusiastically.

“That’s fine, Gladius.” Doflamingo said. “Anymore and I’ll bloat.”

Tears welled in your eyes, clogging your throat. The need to cry was so great it was physically painful.

You can’t cry. You can’t cry here.

“Is she really Corazón’s wife?” asked the black-haired girl in the maid outfit. She must be Baby 5. Rosinante told you she doesn’t know how to say no to people asking her for help, and her entire purpose in life is to be useful. Apparently, Doflamingo found her starving on an island, on the brink of death.

“No way, dasuyan. I bet she’s Young Master’s secret wife.” You had to swallow down your orange juice not to choke on it, the sudden need to heave overwhelming you at the mere possibility of being married to a man like Doflamingo - that sounded like absolute hell. “He must’ve gotten tired from hiding her, so he finally brought her aboard to sail with us, dasuyan!”

“How romantic!” squealed Baby 5.

I wouldn’t touch your captain with a twenty meter pole. you thought, staring at the kids blankly, wondering whether they were really that ignorant.

“They’re pirate kids.” said Rosinante. “They’re stupid, vulgar, adjusted to violence, and have no filter. They don’t know anything. Don’t take it personally.”

You exhaled, and got back to eating your souffle.

“So, missus, where are you from?” asked Giolla. “North Blue?”

You gulped, feeling a heaviness settle over your chest. Telling them Marineford was your birthplace and hometown was suicide. They’ll tackle you and kill you the moment you say the word. Should you lie? If you lie, will Doflamingo punish you? He must know where you’re from.

No. You weren’t going to lie. Screw them. You were proud to be born in Marineford, proud to be the daughter of two marines.

“Head high. Stare right into their eyes.”

“Marineford,” you said firmly.

You might as well have thrown a live grenade on the table, because the chaos that resulted from that single reveal equaled that.

Diamante spit out his red wine, spraying it across the table and right into Trebol’s face. Gladius started choking on his meat. Lao G stood up and performed the Heimlich maneuver, helping the explosive man cough out the meat.

Doflamingo didn’t say anything.

“Seriously?” asked Gladius in disbelief, staring at you.

“Behe! I’m all covered in wine, behe!”

“You’re already covered in snot, though...” said Diamante.

“Behe! It’s so funny, I can’t help my nose running!”

You gagged in your mouth. You clenched your eyes shut not to see Trebol’s booger, turning your face away; you felt your stomach roll with nausea, at the edge of throwing up. That was disgusting.

“My parents were marines,” you said.

Gladius collapsed down into his seat, holding his head in his hands, moaning, “Not another one.” under his breath miserably.

“Are your parents still alive?” asked Diamante.

“They’re gone now. Killed by people like you guys.”

“By pirates, eh?” asked Diamante, and you were starting to realise why Rosinante called him a sick sadist. “Which ones?”

Sadistic pieces of shit like you.

“More dangerous ones than you,” you said flatly. “How many parries do you think you have in you before Mihawk slices you to bits?”

Diamante gaped. Whatever he had been expecting of you to say, it clearly wasn’t that.

“You had that coming, Diamante,” Pica said. Your eyes widened at the sound of his voice. Rosinante told you how high-pitched it was, but you didn’t think it would be this squeaky, like a balloon losing air. “You started it.”

“Behehe, Diamante got defeated by Doffy’s sister-in-law, behehe!” said Trebol, laughing.

“Shut up, Trebol!” yelled Diamante, grabbing an empty bottle. Your eyes widened, your body springing to duck in case the swordman threw the bottle at the slime man.

“Don’t throw glassware,” said Doflamingo, taking another spoonfull of his chocolate filled souffle with a spoon.

Diamante huffed, lowering the glass of wine. Doflamingo lowered his pinky. You caught the gleam of strings disappearing.

You could feel eleven pairs of eyes on you. Oh, there’s the weariness. About time.

“Calm down,” said Doflamingo. “(Y/N) isn’t a marine. She never went through training. Never applied for it, even. She works in the civilian service, in the translation and cryptography department. She knows almost all languages except Godly Tongue and Amazonian. She translated the contract of trade routes between Fishman Island and Marineford, as well as trade routes between Dressrosa and its neighbouring countries. She and her co-workers translated a lot of Arabastan books into Common, and even Flevan medical books, so the government and medical schools all have copies of all their research, just as they translated Common books into Flevan. I’m sure Law studied from one she translated among all his pile of medical books.” Your stomach sunk at the mention of Law. “And, she’s been one of the translators at the Reverie four years ago. She was King Riku’s translator.”

The entire table shifted gears at this load of information.

“What an impressive résumé!”

“Indeed,” said Doflamingo proudly, as though your accomplishments were connected to him. “She even translated the collection of Dressrosan Poems.”

“Fufufufu... speaking of translating... Did my little brother help you out with those?”

“Sorry?”

Doflamingo leaned down to your ear. His breath was hot on your ear. “Did my little brother whisper filthy things to you in Dressrosan or will I have to provide that, too?” His tongue licked his teeth; he looked hungry. “Because I’d be happy to.”

For the first time, you were frightened enough to physically defend yourself. Your arms shot out and shoved at Doflamingo’s suit, on his shoulders, hard. You shoved him away, getting him away from yourself, from your personal space.

Your face was burning. You were breathing hard from terror and disbelief of what he’d said.

Doflamingo laughed. “You’re so red, fufufu! Like a lobster. So cute.”

Doflamingo cooed the last two words, which only frightened you further. He didn’t take you seriously. Not you shoving him away, and not you being unsettled by his implications that no normal brother-in-law would say to his sister-in-law.

“Did my little brother teach you that?” Doflamingo had asked.

Rosinante taught you how to wield a knife, and how to throw it. He also taught you how to shoot, and the basics of self-defense. Your husband taught you many things, but he never thought to teach you how to handle missing him, how to handle this hopeless, empty void in your chest. You thought to fill it with something - the first emotions that came to mind were all for Doflamingo; rage, revenge, hatred. But Rosinante wouldn’t want that.

You didn’t want that. You didn’t want to become a husk of yourself, to make it easier for Doflamingo to manipulate you. Rosinante wouldn’t want you ten kilometers near his brother.

But what Rosinante wanted didn’t seem to matter anymore. He was dead, after all. He couldn’t help you.

“I’m teasing, querida,” he crooned, flashing you another of those vicious-looking grins that set you on edge that made you want to run and flee into the cold sea. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed. I do think they were very well-translated.”

His large hand reached for your face, taking your jawline into his grip with ease, the pads of his fingers touching the back of your ears, caging your head in his grip. He brushed his thumb along your chin, trailing it down. He put your chin on the knuckle of his thumb, lifting your head up to look at him. He smiled, smug and curved. “Romantic.”

Doflamingo removed his touch from your face, and your stomach deflated in relief. You didn’t realise you’d been holding your breath in terror, releasing it through your nose in relief the moment Doflamingo’s hand left your face.

“Pardon me, but do you mean Poems of Dressrosa Collection?” asked Giolla. “You translated it?”

“Uh… yes.” you said.

“Oh my goodness!” squeaked Giolla, the sudden energy in her startling you. “Young Master, why didn’t you say so before?”

“Fufufufu...”

Giolla reached down to her bag, taking out a leatherbound book; you recognised the cover of engraved roses, your eyes widening.

“Would you sign my copy, missus?”

What the actual fuck…

This day was getting weirder and weirder.

It would be rude to say no. Pirate or not, Giolla was asking you politely, and there didn’t seem to be any trick to it.

Oh, what the hell. Might as well.

“Sure,” you said.

“How did you end up translating them?” asked Señor Pink curiously. He was the only man on the crew who truly didn’t appear like a pirate, like he belonged there, with his combed hair and neat suit.

Rosinante had found out on his mission Señor Pink was secretly married to a civilian woman and your husband had nearly bust his gut laughing at the absolute irony of it all. Neither Rosinante or Señor Pink had let Doflamingo know about it, but Rosinante said unlike with him because he was his brother, Doflamingo wasn’t very interested in what his officers did in their personal lives as long as they did their job and put the crew first.

“That wouldn’t be the case for me.” Rosinante had told you. “He wouldn't leave us the hell alone if he found out. Which is exactly why I’ll never let him find out!”

And in the end, he didn’t. Rosinante took the secret of his marriage with you to the grave. It wasn’t his fault Doflamingo had his own spy in the Navy — it was the only possible way he could have found out, because you didn’t sign yourself as Donquixote in any of the published translated books.

“After the Reverie, King Riku commissioned me to translate them.” You shrugged. “They sold pretty well, I suppose.”

It was a very old book, and the author had been dead for five hundred years. They’d never been translated into Common until King Riku commissioned you - and by formality, the World Government - to translate it.

“You’re being too humble, damasu! They became one of the best-selling books from Dressrosa, shipped all over the world! They earned Dressrosa five hundred million berries!”

You felt uneasy. You didn’t like attention. Translators and cryptographers didn’t get attention, and you were very happy with your job because of that fact alone. You enjoyed supporting the marines and helping them in your own, stealthy way.

“That’s uh, nice...” you said. Giolla sent the book through the officers, and it reached you through Doflamingo.

You opened the book on the first page.

Doflamingo was peering over your shoulder with his unnerving smile. You could guess why. He wanted to know what your signature looked like. How you would write the letters of Donquixote.

Ugh. Great.

“You’re credited with your maiden name... That’s how you kept me from finding out." said Doflamingo.

Damn it. you thought. That sea king was out of the ocean now.

Knowing Doflamingo, he’ll now demand you write him a full list of every single book you ever translated in your career. You didn't even know all of them!

You signed the Donquixote as you did through the last five years of signing official documents and reports, with a bit of a curve at the q as you always did. You loved Rosinante’s surname. It was always fun to write it. You added a dedication to Giolla and drew a heart for her, because fuck it.

Doflamingo smiled.

“This is wonderful!” Giolla squealed, beaming left and right, holding the leatherbound book close to her chest, like it was a precious treasure. “Thank you very much!”

You weren’t expecting thanks from a pirate.

“Uh… you… welcome…” you said.

Doflamingo leaned down to you and whispered in your ear, “The worth of that book just skyrocketed, at least to Giolla.”

It seemed as though now that Giolla liked you, there was some unspoken stamp of approval among the officers. The entire atmosphere at the table turned less quiet and more light-hearted.

After everyone finished their desserts, small talk started while everyone digested the food. Soon, the officers started taking their leave. The children got second servings of the souffles and were busy eating them. You were absentmindedly still picking at your souffle.

Trebol leaned to Doflamingo and said something to him, hushed and for Doflamingo’s ears only. You felt your stomach clench the longer you sat there, with no knowledge of the layout of the ship, and no knowledge where you were supposed to go until it was time to head to bed which wouldn’t happen for another six to eight hours.

Doflamingo got up from the chair. Trebol and Diamante followed, and you nearly collapsed from fear at the sight of all three of them at their full height.

“Baby 5, show my sister-in-law to my cabin,” he said.

The devilish, curved, scythe-shaped smile bloomed on Doflamingo’s face as he looked down at you. “Help her get settled in.”

You felt like you were going to throw up all the food you ate.

Baby 5 beamed. “Yes, Young Master!”

“I’ll come and check on you later, little bird,” said Doflamingo. He bent down to your height and kissed you on the cheek.

Doflamingo gave you a smile; the sight of it made you nauseous.

“Welcome aboard.”

***

#doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x you #doflamingo x y/n #one piece x reader #x reader #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #op doflamingo #doffy #doffy x reader #doffy x you

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ariestrxsh · 11 months ago

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🤍 content warning: smut, masturbation, getting caught, sneaking around, risky sexual encounter, fingering, praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

🤍 summary: you're on a road trip with your three favorite people, nick, matt, and chris, staying in hotels and eating gas station food. one night, when you finally think you have to some time alone, you decide to relieve some stress. you're going at it with your favorite vibrator in the hotel room when chris walks in on you, and he has an unexpected reaction.

Road Trippin'

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 |

[ back to Road Trippin' masterlist ] ↖

I had been roadtripping with the triplets for close to a week now, and it consisted of staying in random hotels, long drives, and gas station food. I wouldn't have it any other way. Except for the fact that it had been a week since I had some alone time, and I was dying for a few minutes by myself so I could release some built up tension. This obviously wasn't something I could bring up to Nick, Matt or Chris without enduring relentless teasing, but I hoped they would find something to do soon without me so I could have the hotel room to myself, even if just for a few minutes. That was really all I needed. I had a small bullet vibrator with me, and it was tucked discretely away in my suitcase. I was just waiting for a chance to use it, to hear its familiar hum, to find the vibration pattern I liked, to find the perfect fantasy to finish myself off to.

A couple days prior, I tried to bring it into the shower with me, but we only had one bathroom to share between the four of us, so as soon as I turned it on, Nick came in and started asking if I had seen an item of clothing he was missing, and then Matt came in to brush his teeth a few minutes after, so I figured even the shower wasn't a safe place. The worst part about all of it, was when I got out of the shower, completely unable to find any relief, and left the bathroom, I realized I had left it next to my razor on the ledge of the tub, and I had to find a way to sneakily get it back before anyone else used the shower and found it, and thank god I was able to. Don't get me wrong, I loved adventuring with my three best friends, but us all living on top of each other and getting little to no privacy was really wearing at my patience.

"Hey, Matt's gonna take Chris and me to go get food. You wanna come with?" Nick asked. About damn time. "You know, thanks for the offer, but I'm feeling pretty tired. I think I'll just stay here," I said, trying to hold back a smirk. The three boys left, and then the sound of sweet silence filled the room, but that silence was quickly broken by the hum of my vibrator. I wasted no time kicking off my pants and underwear and collapsing onto my bed. I was laying on my back, legs spread, in nothing but a baby tee, and I had my little compact pink vibrator resting on my clit. I started moving it around in circles, coaxing a few moans from my lips. I loved the way it felt and how wet it was making me. I could feel a damp spot forming underneath me on the bed. I turned my vibrator onto my favorite setting, which was just a continuous vibration, but the intensity came in steady waves. I started to roll my left nipple between my fingers, which was very sensitive.

I threw my head back, closed my eyes, and just as I was about to release, I heard the door open. Shit shit shit. I scrambled to turn off my toy, slam my legs shut, and pull the nearest blanket over me, but it was too late. Chris was standing in the doorway, stunned. "Oh my god what were you doing?" He asked me, wide-eyed, and I watched as he tried to adjust his hardening cock in his pants discretely. "Oh my god Chris. I thought you guys left already," I responded, humiliated, but my humiliation quickly shifted to anger, "why didn't you fucking knock?" "I just came back up for my wallet. We literally just walked out the door like two seconds ago. I didn't think you'd be.. you know," Chris replied still mesmerized by my half naked body that was barely hidden from him and the toy I had that was still between my legs. "Sorry, Chris. I didn't mean for you to see me like this. I just haven't been able to - you know - like alllll week. I'm dying here," I whined. "Shit, Matt's calling," Chris looked at me and then looked down at his phone. "Great, tell him and Nick to come up here so we can all share this moment together!" I sarcastically exclaimed, rolling my eyes, clearly pissed that I couldn't even get two minutes alone without someone walking in on me, and hoping he'd get the hint to turn around and walk out, considering that's what any other normal person would have done had they walked in on someone masturbating.

"Hey. I can't find my wallet. Could you just pick up food for me and I'll venmo you later?" Chris asked Matt over the phone, smiling at me. I looked at him confused and shook my head no. "No, go with them, please let me have this," I begged him in a volume just above a whisper so Matt couldn't hear. I put my hands together in a prayer position. "Whatever loser. Text me what you want," Matt responded and then hung up. "What the fuck are you doing?" I shrieked at him, knowing I wasn't going to be to finish with him here even though I was like a second away right before he walked in.

Chris locked the door and starting texting away on his phone, and I assumed it was his order to Matt. He put his phone in his pocket, sat at the foot of the bed, and began parting my legs with his hands. "What I'm gonna do is sit right here, and what you're gonna do is show me what you were doing when I walked in," he said to me in a dominant voice that instantly had my demeanor changing. I was stunned. "You heard me. You know what I wanna see. Don't you wanna cum before Matt and Nick get home?" He asked, moving his face closer to my pussy to get a better look. I laid back again, loving the way he just spoke to me. "Yes sir," I said in a soft voice, succumbing to him. "Good girl," he cooed as I turned my vibrator back on to the lowest setting. Having him watch me turned me on even more than I could imagine. He was staring between my legs, licking his lips, and he started touching himself through his pants.

"Well would you look at that," he whispered as he watched the way the wetness coating my entrance started leaking out of me. "Let me help you," he said taking his finger and running it up and down my wet slit. I gasped at the way it felt. He teased me like this for a couple minutes, running his fingers along my folds, but to my dismay, still leaving me empty. "Please," I begged him, bucking my hips against his fingers, hoping that would make one slip in. But Chris really knew how to drive me crazy. He took my bullet vibrator out of my hand and held it up against my clit in the same spot I had it before. "Hey what does this button do?" He said, changing the setting to my favorite setting. I moaned loudly in response as he worked the little toy in circles on my little bundle of nerves. He was almost too good it, and my imagination started running wild, wondering if this wasn't the first time he'd used a toy with a girl. "Oooh, you like this setting," he said, observing the way my body was reacting. "Oh Chris. Please," I whimpered. "What is it, pretty girl? Use your words. Tell me exactly what you want." "Please put your fingers in me," I begged him. "Only because you begged so nicely," he said, smiling and obliging.

He looked into my eyes while he filled me with his middle and ring finger while he continued holding the toy against my clit. "Fuck, you're so wet and tight," his eyes widened while he penetrated me. "Mhmmm," I bit my lip and moaned. I felt a sensation building in my core, and I knew what was coming next. "Oh Chris," I moaned while my pussy throbbed around his fingers, and my legs started shaking.

After my first orgasm, Chris didn't slow down, and I went to push his hands away. "Chris please.. already came.. so sensitive," I said brokenly. "No, I know. I think I can get a few more out of you, though," he said winking. "But Matt and Nick.. what if they come back?" I panted. "Yeah, they could walk in any second," he whispered, smirking at me. Just like that, I felt another orgasm coming on, and this time it hit me even harder than before.

"You like how risky it is. You like that they could walk in on you and see me finger-fucking you, don't you?" He responded. I ignored his question, even though he might have been right. "Please.. no more," I said breathlessly. "Just one more, princess. I know you can." His fingers were moving in and out of me with incredible speed, and the vibrator had been on my clit so long it was nearly going numb. I was so overstimulated. "I can't, it's too much," I started to sob. "Yes you can, pretty girl, I know you can. Let go for me," he whispered, looking into my eyes. The way he was holding eye contact and talking me through it sent me over the edge one final time, and finally he slowed down the pace of his fingers. He removed them, took them into his mouth, and licked them clean. "Mmmm, you taste as good as you look," he muttered as he handed me back my vibrator that was still buzzing away.

I turned it off and slipped it back into my luggage. Chris pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Shit, Matt texted me. They're downstairs. Okay, you hop into the shower, and I'm gonna make your bed," Chris said, panicked while he tucked his erection into the waistband of his sweatpants, "we can't let anyone know this happened." I nodded, discarding my bottoms that were still on the floor, scrambling to grab a change of clothes and dashing into the bathroom.

By the time Matt and Nick returned to the room, the wet spot on my bed was covered up, I was in the shower, and Chris was on the bed that he and Matt shared, and he was texting away on his phone. "Hey loser. We're back. Did you sit on your phone the whole time we were gone?" Nick asked, holding the majority of the food, while Matt walked in behind him carrying the drinks. "No, actually I helped our friend take care of something she was really putting off," he smirked, knowing Nick and Matt wouldn't understand the innuendo. "Whatever weirdo. Here's your Pepsi. You owe me $15," Matt said, setting the drink on the nightstand. Chris ignored him.

Once I got out of the shower and started to dry off, I saw I had an unread text. It was from Chris, and it read: "You know, it's been about a week since I've been able to get off too. It's really hard to jerk off when you're laying in bed next to your sleeping brother. Help me tonight after they fall asleep?"

I found myself getting hot and bothered by the text. I could never look at Chris the same again after how he just made me cum all over his fingers three times in a row. I no longer saw him as the goofy, annoying kid who always knew how to get on my nerves. Now I was lusting after him. I knew the way he looked at me and the way he spoke to me while he turned me into an incoherent puddle of my own drool and cum would fuel many, many fantasies to come. "What is it, pretty boy? Use your words. Tell me exactly what you want," I texted back, biting my lip, giving him a taste of his own medicine. A few seconds later, he answered me: "Please. Let me bust in your mouth, pretty girl. That's all I want."

part two posted here 🤍

#sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #ᴀʀɪᴇꜱ' ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙#ᴄʜʀɪꜱ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙#ʀᴏᴀᴅ ᴛʀɪᴘᴘɪɴ' .ᐟ ✮⋆˙

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kpop---scenarios · 5 months ago

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Finally Yours

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Reader

Genre: Non - Idol! Au, Friends to Lovers

Warning: Smut [oral m. receiving, unprotected sex] 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

Summary: You've been in love with Seungmin for so long, you'd always thought there was times he felt the same but you never had the nerve to confess. Until now.

Word Count: 4,043

A/N: This story was commissioned by @curiouscocoabean ! I hope you love it! And if you want to commission your own story, or a new chapter of an already existing story, you can do so HERE

Everything Taglist: @wife2straykidss @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon @dwaekkiiracha @silly250 @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @satosugu4l @gabriellamarie @tsunderelino @iovecb97 @1810cl @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog @anskiiz @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr @jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx @ayyonoona @31maze13 @stay-tiny-things @thegingerthatwaited @hoesheez @stayatinykatsy @catlove83 @jeonginstulip @kaleigh-2002 @honeycombbaybee @hyuneyeon @flylis @kpop-choco @chloe-elise-2000 @eastjonowhere @stephanieeeyang @nightmarenyxx @0325tiny @m1nn1everse @igot7bulletproofmonstas

“My god, there's nothing to watch.” You groan, tossing your remote onto the couch beside you. You had been flipping through the channels on your TV for what felt like hours in a desperate attempt to distract yourself but with nothing on to watch and your mind racing, it was seemingly impossible. Just as you were about to give up and go to bed, you hear your front door opening, slamming shut.

“Seungmin?” You call out. You're met with a grunt, an annoyed one at that. Seconds later he emerges from around the corner, a beer can, from your fridge in hand, sighing heavily as he sits down on the couch beside you, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Bad date?” You ask.

“Bad everything.” He sighs. “You know, I really thought that this one was going to work out… but I just can't get behind someone who wears socks with sandals. I mean, who does that?” He asks.

“Weird ass people, that's who.” You say, watching the time you didn't want to look at him. Well, you wanted to, but you worried if you did look over at him, he'd see you staring at him like you were in love with him or something, and that's what you didn't want. Because you were.

“You'd never do that, right?” He asks, looking over at you. “Wear socks with sandals? I don't think I could handle losing you like that.” He whispers.

“Gross.” You half chuckle. That was all you had. There were no other words you could use. Losing you like that? He never said losing a friend like you was that a sign? Were you overthinking things? Probably.

You quickly glance over at the handsome man sitting beside you, and your heart flutters, while the internal battle on what the fuck you were supposed to do continued.

You and Seungmin had been friends for years, while also apparently crushing on each other but the two of you just never seemed to get the timing right, nor let each other know about said crushes. You were pretty sure you were the one who fell for him first. It was a rainy afternoon a few years ago and the two of you were hanging out with mutual friends. You had looked over at him, watching him as he laughed along with friends and it was like something in your heart and mind flipped. You stopped seeing him as your best friend and started seeing him as a man, one that you wanted to have do some dirty things to you. But then you met San, and San became your boyfriend after a few dates. Even though you weren't single, your little crush on Seungmin never went away. You had heard through the grapevine that Seungmin admitted to having feelings for you while you were with San, but when the time came that the two of you had broken up, Seungmin had started dating Rachel. And it was a never ending loop of crushes happening, never at the same time and no words of admission from either of you.

Until now.

You had been internally going back and forth, like an angel and a devil fighting to decide what you were going to do. Now that things didn't work out with this girl, and you were single, you wanted to admit your feelings to him. But the fear you had of him having a change of heart, or your friendship being ruined stopped you. You had a lot of people in your life that you would be okay losing but Kim Seungmin, well he wasn't one of them.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Seungmin asks, standing up from the couch, shuffling towards the fridge.

“I don't have any plans. Why?” You respond, knots in your stomach starting to form. You knew he wasn't about to ask you on a date, but in your mind, it was apparently a possibility.

“Chan is having people over and asked if we wanted to go.” He mentions.

Part of you feels disappointed but you knew better than to get your hopes up. It was on you.

“Yeah, Sure. Sounds fun.” You sigh.

“What's wrong?” He asks, walking back into the living room, a new beer can in his hand.

“Mhm? Oh nothing, I'm just tired.” You say, faking a yawn.

“Lay your head on my lap. I'll rub your forehead.” He smiles. “I know you like that.”

Fuck.

You did like that. But you also wished he would rub something else.

You laid down, your head resting on his lap, your face was facing the tv so he couldn't see the obvious pain that was all over. The pain of him being so sweet and kind to you, in a friendly way when you wanted him so much in an unfriendly way.

Not even just sex, you wanted to be the one he gave that smile to, the ‘I'm so in love with you’ kind of smile. You wanted to hold him, kiss him, just do those cutesy coupley things with him.

“Does that feel nice?” He asks, gently gliding his fingers through your hair. You want to moan because of how good it feels. And you don't trust your voice at this moment.

“Uh huh.” Was all you managed to squeak out of your mouth. He doesn't respond but you can feel the smile on his face radiating down to you, and you could feel it warming up your body and soul. You weren't sure when it happened, but at some point, you must have fallen asleep, as did he. When you woke up, Seungmin had fallen asleep and the two of you had somehow maneuvered into a spooning position. You were on the edge of the couch with him behind you, his cock pressing into your ass. To say it made you horny was a complete understatement. Your eyes were wide as you tried to think of how to discreetly get his arm from around you and gracefully slide off the couch.

Seungmin groans, stretching his body, pushing his cock even more into your ass. You panic, yelping before rolling forward, dropping directly to the floor.

“Ow.” You groan, picking yourself up off the floor.

“What are you doing down there?” Seungmin asks, so nonchalantly while rubbing his eyes.

“I fell.” You begin, clearing your throat. “In my dream.” You finish, standing up and dusting yourself off. You walk away listening to Seungmin laughing.

You stand in the shower, letting the water just pour down on top of you as you think about the night and morning, and if it meant anything.

“It was two friends. Two friends who fell asleep… that's all.” You groan to yourself, wiping the water away from your face. “He doesn't feel the same. You missed your window, again, y/n.” You murmur to yourself. Once the water started feeling cold, you turned it off, wrapping a towel around yourself. You were sure he had left, but that didn't matter because you were going to see him later tonight at Chan's, and you couldn't decide if you were excited or dreading it.

You opened the door, listening into the rest of the apartment. You were met with silence. Not sounds of laughter, the tv, cooking, or even snoring. You walk out of the apartment, the feeling of slight disappointment taking over you. You had genuinely hoped that he would still be here but there was also no reason for him to stay.

Again. You two were not a couple because you couldn't admit to him that you had feelings for him. And you weren't sure if you ever would.

You puttered around for the rest of the day, snacking, playing on your phone, taking a nap and tidying up a little bit until you felt like it was time to start getting ready. Chan didn't live terribly far from you so you didn't want to start too early but you also didn't want to be the first person there. That felt more like an intrusion than being a guest. You start playing your favorite music as you get yourself ready, your makeup and hair ending up just the way you like. You put on one of your favorite outfits, before heading to your fridge to take a few shots. You felt like you needed one or two to decompress your nerves. It wasn't like this was going to be your first time meeting any of them, but Seungmin had you all the way fucked up these days and it was eating away at you from the inside out. The burning in your throat was enough distraction but only for a second, until you were on your way out the door and then your mind started spinning but your nerves weren't as bad as before. You headed downstairs and into your cab, headed to Chan's house.

When you got there, you knocked on the door before just letting yourself in. You were close enough that you could walk in at any point in the day, whether he was home or not and help yourself to whatever and hangout, if you wanted to.

“Heelloooo?” You call out. You can hear chatter from the living room. You set your bag down, walking into the kitchen to grab an already mixed drink before joining the others. You smiled as you walked in, seeing your friends, but as quickly as your smile appeared, it dropped. Seungmin sat on the couch with a woman, who was sitting a little too close for comfort…for you. You had decided on the ride over that if you drank enough, you were going to fully admit your feelings to him tonight, but if he's here with that girl you probably shouldn't do that.

“Y/N!” Chan smiles, pulling you in for a hug. “I'm glad you made it.”

“Yeah.” You smile. “Me too.”

“There's my girl.” Seungmin smiles, walking over to you. He grabs your hand, pulling you to the couch. Your heart was about to beat right out of your chest. He sits down, sitting you next to him, in-between him and the girl. You took some deep breaths, taking another swig of your drink. You needed to relax. You were jumping to conclusions left and right and normally you weren't like that. You just didn't want anything to get in the way of finally confessing. It had been too many years of harboring these feelings and you needed to let them out, like tonight.

“Why did you just leave this morning?” You ask him.

He laughs. “Cause I stunk.” He says. “I needed to get home and clean myself up.” He finishes. He slouches on the couch, spreading his legs. What you wouldn't give to put his cock in your mouth right now. He pulls you back to lean against him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, holding you close. Your breathing was heavy, your heart thumping. You really hoped he couldn't hear how hard it was pounding.

“We're just waiting on the others and then we'll play a game.” Chan says.

“What game?” The girl next to you asks. “Hopefully truth or dare.”

“We're not fucking 12, Anne.” Seungmin scoffs.

“Cards Against Humanity.” Chan announces.

“Oh shit, I love that game.” You giggle. “No one better judge me for my choices.”

“Oh I'm gonna judge the fuck out of you.” Seungmin whispers in your ear.

You almost moaned. Out loud. In front of all the people already there. You were going to start sweating. The feeling of his warm breath in your ear sent shivers down your spine. Fuck, what was he doing to you?

You had heard what he said. But your mind just continued to repeat the words, “I'm gonna fuck you.”

You would have spread your legs right then and there in front of Chan's guests, had he asked you too.

A few minutes later, Changbin, Minho, Felix, Hyunjin, Jeongin and Han walk in, and a few of their girlfriends. You and Seungmin stand up, hugging them all, saying hello before sitting back down. Chan hands out more drinks, before setting out the cards, shuffling them and dealing out everyone's cards.

“So, y/n.” Han begins. “Are you guys finally dating?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows. Your eyes go wide. You almost choke on your drink.

You open your mouth to answer but Seungmin lets out a big laugh.

“Me? And y/n?” He laughs. “Yeah right.” He says. Your heart sinks. You feel the tears welling in your eyes. The lump in your throat gets bigger by the second. Fuck, that hurts so bad.

“y/n.” Felix whispers. He can see the hurt on your face.

“I-I'm just gonna go to the bathroom.” You murmur, getting up from your spot.

“You fucking moron.” Changbin quietly hisses to Seungmin. You can hear Seungmin call out to you but you ignore it, quickly going into the bathroom and locking the door. You sit down on the toilet, letting the tears fall from your eyes. Silently whimpering. You wanted to not let this affect you, but sometimes you just needed to cry, especially when your heart gets shattered. It was obvious he didn't feel the same way as you and now you were worried he would never get back there.

“Y/N.” You hear from the other side of the door. It's Seungmin. He bangs on the door, yelling out your name.

“Go away!” You cry.

“Open the door!” He yells, banging continuing.

“No! I need a minute.” You say. “Just leave me alone.”

“Y/N, i need to explain! Please open the door.” He yells.

Anger becomes you. You stomp towards the door, unlocking it, and ripping it open.

“Explain!?” You yell. “I got the message loud and clear. There's nothing for you to explain.” You snap.

“Yes there is!” He gasps. “You took it the wrong way!”

“You saying ‘yeah right’ about dating me, how could I possibly have taken it the wrong way?” You ask.

“I meant it like yeah right you'd ever date me.” He sighs. “Look at you! And look at me.” He says.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, right.” You scoff. “You're like a god.” You murmur.

He smiles.

“Y/N, you're the funniest, smartest, sincerest, most beautiful woman I've ever met in my entire life. Ive spent years being so fucking in love with you but I never once thought that you would return those feelings.” He explains.

“You've been in love with me? For years?” You ask.

He nods his head.

“I've been in love with you for years… I was planning to confess… tonight.” you sniffle.

“Shut the fuck up.” He laughs. “I was going to confess tonight.”

“No you were not.” You laugh.

“I was. So here it goes.” He sighs. “L/N Y/N. I've been in love with you since I first met you. Your smile, your eyes, your heart continue to make me fall for you more and more everyday. Would you be my girlfriend?” He asks with a big smile.

You're about to go off on him but his hand slides to your cheek, he pushes you back into the bathroom, pinning you against the wall before he kisses you. It’s hard and passionate, his lips moving against yours. You move your hands to wrap around him, holding him closer.

The kiss was better than anything you could have ever imagined, the chemistry that you felt between the two of you was the strongest that you'd ever felt.

Seungmin pulls himself away from you, breaking the kiss. He grins at you, running his finger along the bottom of your lip.

“You're so beautiful.” He whispers. The butterflies swirled in your stomach. You were a giggling mess.

“Should we go back to the group?” You ask. He nods his head, intertwining his fingers with yours as he pulls you from the bathroom.

“Come on, girlfriend.” He whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Let's go, boyfriend.” You murmur. You were on top of the world and nothing was going to bring you down.

“You okay, y/n?” Chan asks before noticing the two of you were holding hands. “Wait… are you two…?” He pauses.

“Yes, yes we are.” You grin.

Your friends all cheer, congratulating you all on the exciting news.

Changbin clears his throat, looking around the room. “Can we get this fucking game started now!?”

***

A few days later, you and Seungmin had been almost inseparable. You spent the last few days making out, cuddling and doing a lot of heavy petting. The one thing the two of you hadn't done yet was fuck. You had wanted too, on more than one occasion, it had been something you thought about for a long time but when it actually came down to it, it made you nervous. It was the realness of the whole thing. He was your friend for so long and now he was your boyfriend and that honestly shocked you.

He had planned a night for the two of you at his place. He didn't tell you much but just to look nice and what time to show up. You planned a little something of your own too, putting on a sexy little piece of lingerie under your outfit and right now, you couldn't wait for him to take it off of you.

You opened the front door to Seungmin's place, a delicious smell wafting into your nose. The lights were dimmed down low, the glow of candle light guided your way inside.

“Seungmin?” You call out.

“In here, baby.” He yells from the living room. Your stomach twists and turns with excitement instead of nerves. You had decided to pass on the clothes, instead wearing your sexy little piece of lingerie that accentuates your breasts and your body under a long jacket.

“Hi.” You smile, standing a few feet from him.

“Hi gorgeous.” He grins. “Aren't you going to come give me a kiss?” He asks.

You shake your head. He looks at you, raising one eyebrow. “Oh?” He murmurs, starting to walk towards you.

You hold your hand out. “Stop.” You say. Your voice shakes. “I have a surprise for you.”

“For me?” He asks.

You watch him as you begin untying your jacket, looking away as you drop it to the floor, revealing the surprise.

“Oh… my… fuck.” He groans.

“You like it?” You ask, biting your lip.

“No, I do not like it.” He says. “I fucking love it.” He groans.

He doesn't say anything but instead walks towards you, grabbing your hand, pulling you to the bedroom, making you giggle.

“What about dinner?” You laugh.

“Fuck dinner. I want you more.” He says, pulling you into his room. “I can't wait any longer.”

Something comes over you, maybe the fact that you'd wanted this for so long. You grab his shoulders, pushing him down onto the bed. He props himself up on his elbows, smiling widely as he watches you walk towards him. You crawl onto the bed, getting straight to the point. You began unbuttoning his pants, pulling them and his boxers off his body with his help, letting his cock spring free.

“What are you gonna do, baby?” He asks you.

“First, I'm gonna wrap my lips around your cock.” You whisper, trailing the tip of your tongue around the tip of his cock. Seungmin gasps as you wrap your hand around his shaft, gently and slowly stroking him as you close your mouth around his tip.

“Fuck.” He hisses. “Watching you suck my cock, is one of the hottest things I've ever seen.” He groans, throwing his head back. You move your hand, slowly taking more of him in your mouth, letting his cock slide down your throat. You begin to pick up your pace, moving your tongue around while you let him throat fuck you.

“Stop, stop.” He gasps. You sit up, wiping the spit and cum from your mouth.

“What's wrong?” You ask?

“I'm gonna cum, and that can't happen. Not yet at least.” He says. He sits up, pulling you towards him. Seungmin pulls down your top, letting your tits fall out. He groans as he grabs them, holding them in his hands. He sucks your nipple, gently nipping it with his teeth before moving to the next one. You can feel your pussy getting wetter the more his hands are groping you. They're trailing up and down your body, feeling and loving on every single part of you. He pulls your head in for a kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth, his hands having moved back to your tits.

“I wanna fuck you so bad.” He groans.

“Do it then.” You moan. “Fuck me.”

He pushes you off of him, your face down on the mattress. He pulls your ass up, you spread your legs. You're panting as he positions himself behind you. You want to feel him in you so badly. You can feel the tip of his cock pressing against your hole as he slowly pushes himself into you. You gasp as your pussy stretches out, Seungmin moaning behind you while you squeeze yourself around him.

“Fuck, You feel so good around my cock, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He pulls himself out of you, slowly sliding back in, teasing you, making you want so much more.

“Please.” You whine. “Harder. Faster.” You gasp. Seungmin tightens his grip, slamming his cock into you.

“Like that? You want it like that baby girl?” He grunts, ramming into you over and over again.

“Yes… fuck… just like that.” You moan. You squeeze your eyes closed, reaching underneath you to rub your clit. The tips of your fingers just grazing your bud, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. You can feel your orgasm building faster and faster with each thrust of his, it felt so fucking good.

“I love that no one else has seen you like this baby.” He groans. “They don't get to have you like this, but I do.”

“Yes… just you, fuck.” You cry out, rubbing your clit faster.

“Cum baby, cum for me.” He moans, digging his fingers into you harder, fucking you harder.

You cry out as your orgasm washes over you, your body jolting as the pleasure spreads across your body. Your chest is heaving as Seungmin continues to fuck you, chasing his own orgasm. It doesn't take him long to cum, spilling his seed into you, coating your walls. He takes a few seconds, trying to catch his breath before he pulls his cock out of you, collapsing on the bed beside you. He smiles at you before grabbing your hand, helping you up, pulling you towards the bathroom. Seungmin starts the shower, helping you out of your outfit and the two of you hop into the shower. You stand there enjoying the feeling of his hands rubbing your body, washing you.

“Shit, your food.” You gasp, turning around to face him. “It's probably not very edible now.” You murmur, your stomach growling.

“I told you baby, fuck the food.” He laughs. “When we get out I'll order us something.” He says, rinsing off your body.

He got out of the shower first. “Stay in the warm water, I'll be right back.” He says, leaving the bathroom. You stand there for a moment, until you hear the door open again.

“Okay, you can come out now.” He says. You can hear the excitement in his voice. You turned off the water, opening the curtain, seeing Seungmin standing there holding up a fuzzy robe in your favorite color. “I got this a while ago… in case I ever confessed to you.” He smiles. Your heart melted as you stepped out of the shower and he wrapped it around you. He leads you to the living room, sitting on the couch with him, while he orders food for the two of you. You're snuggled up, looking over at him, and he looks at you and smiles. You're filled with nothing but just pure love for the man that you wished you had, and was now finally yours.

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spiderb00 · 3 months ago

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- Fam out #6

Sophia Laforteza x reader

“You and Sophia never fight, so imagine Yoonchae's surprise when she found out she would have to postpone her plan for a few more days”

Genre – Fluff Warnings – Sophia and Yn fight, but it's the usual fam out cuteness

(request)

Now playing – Compass, by The Neighbourhood

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The towel on the bed was grabbed roughly, Sophia's hands squeezing the fabric tightly as she hurried downstairs. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but Sophia always let it go, every time it happened she just took a deep breath and put the towel away, talking to you about it and listening to the embarrassed apologies that came out of your mouth. But this time, she was tired.

As soon as you appeared in Sophia's field of vision, the towel she was holding was thrown over you, covering the view you had of the television. “Seriously, Yn!”

You quickly tried to get the towel off your head, but it seems you weren't quick enough, because now your character was on the ground, while some other player was stealing the items that were yours. “NO! Sophia, you made me lose.”

“I don't care about your stupid game! How many times have I told you not to leave a wet towel on the bed? Seriously, Yn. How old are you? Five years old?” Running a hand through her hair in frustration, Sophia watched you get up, while throwing the towel on the sofa.

“Yeah, but what was the point of waiting until I'd finished the match?” You say, barely having time to react when the video game controller is snatched from your hand and thrown onto the sofa.

“I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT YOUR GAME!” Sophia says, coming closer to you, making you automatically take a step back. “THIS WOULDN'T HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU'D PUT THINGS IN THE RIGHT PLACES!”

“I PUT THINGS IN THE RIGHT PLACES!” The look Sophia gave you made you think about all your life choices, and lower your voice the next second. “I mean... I put things in the right places.”

“No, you don't! I've been complaining about your towel on the bed for weeks, but what do you do? You keep leaving the towel on the bed!” Sophia says, making your head spin.

The shouting, the complaining, you know it's your fault, but it was all making you a bit dizzy. “I just forgot...”

“You didn't forget. You're acting like a damn child, you were addicted to this stupid game and you're simply forgetting the basic things you used to do.” Sophia said.

She was frustrated too, not just about the towel, but because she'd missed you lately. You were spending so much time on your video game that you were forgetting about her. It had been weeks since you and Sophia had gone out together, weeks since you had done anything nice, or romantic, or even “family”. All because of that stupid video game.

“Well, I have the right to have a bit of fun too. Maybe I'd like to be with my company, be alone for a bit too!” You say, without thinking.

Laughing sarcastically, Sophia pushes your chest, making you fall onto the sofa. past you, the Filipino girl picked up her phone, putting on her shoes and texting someone.

“What are you doing?” You said, getting up from the sofa quickly.

“I'm going out. You want your space, have your space!”

The deafening slam of the door was the last thing you heard, trying to follow Sophia only to see an Uber pull up in front of both your houses.

It was Thursday, the silence in the house bothered you, any noise could be heard, and that made you feel empty. The days have gone by very slowly, since your fight with Sophia, you've been getting more and more upset, the thought that things didn't have to come to this, the thought that it was all a stupid fight, the thought that you could have avoided it. It was stupid.

You wanted to make up with Sophia, to tell her that you'd been an idiot, that you'd been childish, that she was right and that she could come home now, because you missed her so much. But unfortunately, since that day, you haven't been able to see Sophia, you've respected her space, but you couldn't lie in saying that your heart didn't race every time she sent you a message.

“Yoonchae is waiting for you.”

“Come back at eight, we have appointments the next morning.”

Parking the car in front of the Kats' house, you waited for Yoonchae to get out, seeing the younger girl running towards you. “Hey, kiddo! I missed you.”

Yoonchae didn't really understand why you and Sophia were fighting, she just assumed it must be something serious, since you've never fought before. How wrong she was... “I missed you too. It's very strange to see you and Sophia apart.”

As you got into the car, you sighed at Yoonchae's words, you knew that it affected her too, even if only a little. She was used to you and Sophia going out together, spoiling her constantly, looking after her like two mother tigers look after their cubs, and now, it was like she was missing out on part of a good thing.

“I know...” You say, starting to drive through the streets towards the mall, where Yoonchae would spend all your money. “I'm sorry about that, it was just a stupid fight...”

“But you'll fix it, right?” Yoonchae's question made your heart skip a few beats.

Honestly, you had no idea. You and Sophia had never fought like this, you'd never gone more than a day without speaking to each other, you hoped it would never happen, and if it did, it wouldn't be because of something stupid you'd done.

Giving a tight-lipped smile, you glanced at Yoonchae briefly, only to see the younger girl already looking at you for some kind of confirmation, anything that might reassure her. “Yeah, of course.”

Boy, you were so lost.

The clock on your wrist read 8:30 p.m., and you knew Sophia was going to kill you. Damn it, she was already mad at you, and now this? But it wasn't your fault that you were having so much fun with Yoonchae, the younger girl's happiness was making you forget your responsibilities.

“You're late!” Sophia was already at the door, she was probably spying on the car through the window, and when you parked, she was already ready to unleash the dogs on you.

“Sorry, we lost track of time...” Yoonchae tries to explain, lifting the shopping bags as if that justifies everything.

“We have appointments early tomorrow morning, and you know she has trouble getting up early, Yn!”

“I don't...” Yoonchae tried.

“I know, I'm sorry, we were just having fun. It's been a while since we've seen each other.”

“You could see more of her if you came here. Or were you still glued to the video game?”

“Guys...” Poor maknae.

“Why do you have to be so mean?”

“Because someone has to put this family in order!” Sophia said, sighing before pointing in the direction of the bedrooms. “Yoonchae, go get ready for bed, we have a busy day tomorrow.”

“But...”

“Do what she's saying Yoonchip.” You say, giving a small smile to the younger girl, who was hesitant to leave you two alone.

“Are you guys going to fight?”

“No.”

Looking at the two of you skeptically, Yoonchae sighed, knowing that she couldn't win the 2x1. Waving goodnight, she headed for her room, leaving you and Sophia staring at each other awkwardly.

“Sorry.” It was the first thing that escaped your lips. Sophia's sigh was heard, and you took it as a chance to continue. “I know I was wrong, and I'm sorry for that. We've never spent so much time fighting, and that scares me.” You said, pausing, wondering if you were bothering her or if she was ready to have this conversation. “I miss you, baby.”

Looking at you, Sophia's eyes softened, coming closer to you, she hugged your shoulders. “I miss you too, baby.”

The truth is that you both recognized how silly it had all been. You knew you'd made a mistake, Sophia was right to complain to you about your sloppy attitudes, since you'd never been like that and seemed to be in a kind of constant black hole with that new game you'd picked up. And Sophia recognized that perhaps she had stressed herself too much, getting overwhelmed with the job of leader and all the things she had to deal with on a daily basis.

“I'm sorry for yelling at you, and leaving...” Sophia began.

“It's okay, baby. I understand, you were overwhelmed.” You said, placing a kiss on her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Sophia said, moving closer and sealing her lips with yours.

The kiss was full of love, saying all the things you've wanted to say to each other for weeks, killing all the desire you've felt all these days.

“How about we say goodnight to Yoonchae, and you take me home?” Sophia said, looking at you with a look full of love.

“I think that's a wonderful idea.”

Yoonchae's voice was muffled, but the two of you could hear her saying “Come in” right after you knocked on the door.

You could have sworn you saw Yoonchae's eyes light up when she saw you and Sophia's hands intertwined, finally getting the confirmation that everything would return to normal that she so desperately wanted.

“We came to say goodnight.” You said, approaching and kissing the forehead of the youngest girl, who was lying between the warm covers.

“Are you all together again?” Yoonchae asked with a smile on her face.

“Yes, everything's fine.” Sophia said, kissing the back of your hand as you smiled at her.

Your cloud of love was soon broken by Yoonchae, who coughed falsely to get your attention. “Well then, since you've made up, I think it would be a good time for you to meet Evie.”

Frowning, you looked at Sophia with a slight smile, seeing that she didn't know what Yoonchae was talking about either.

“Who's Evie, Yoonchip?” Sophia asked, a confused smile on the Filipina's face.

Looking at the two of you, Yoonchae took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders, only to make yours tense at her behavior.

“My girlfriend.”

Holy shit.

“YOUR WHAT?”

Hey babies, how are you?

It's been a while, hasn't it? We're already on part 6 of fam out, and I'm surprised this series has so many chapters.

Anyway, I've been very busy these days, I have some asks to answer, and I'm going to answer it!

just a quick stop around here, drink some water, stay safe

xoxo, spider

#katseye imagines #katseye x reader #kpop gg #gxg #kpop fluff #sophia laforteza x reader #jeong yoonchae x reader #spiderb00

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oval3000 · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 1

Yandere Psych Patient König x Nurse Reader

Warning: Possesive, Obsession, Death, Gore, Blood, Smut, Toxic behavior, age gap.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

(This story might suck idk)

-------------------------------------------------------

König felt three of the guards holding him down while one of the other nurses stuck a needle inside his arm. It took a while for it to work on him, but eventually he fell asleep.

The doctor infront of him, pressing his hands on the open wound of the other, unfortunate, nurse's neck trying to control the bleeding.

It was no use, the wound was deep the pressure barely hold the amount of blood she lost. It was honestly foolish of her. What did she think will happen? She kept rolling her eyes whenever König needed something. It was easy, she was sloppy, always leaves things unintended. It was time for a new nurse anyway all the other ones that come and go don't meet up to his standards.

The amount of nurses he has killed was all fun and games to him, but he got bored. Now it was anger that drives it. Before, he would play a game with them, he flirts to get them near him and it works until he chokes them with one hand or slits their throats with anything he can get his hands on or just simply slamming their heads to the wall. It was funny seeing them put up foam in the walls inside his room, it wasn't too long for them to realize it won't do anything when he smashed a guards head onto the floor and quickly stomped on it like it was nothing.

Bashing their heads to anything it's what got him here in the first place. Being in the military is something not everything can stand. For König it became a playground. Killing his enemies however he wanted. Breaking their heads, their necks, arms, legs, ankles, practically anything.

The amount of meetings the staff has to attend to acknowledge Königs behavior and how it's partially the staff's fault for being so careless. It was hilarious for him honestly. Having the entire building walking on egg shells around him. They don't know how to tame him, how to tame a monster who kills someone as if they are a cockroach

The only person that could possible get through his head is his psychiatrist. However his attempts to clear him backfires when König kills someone. At times the doctor is to frustrated that he gave up and he did, so he got a new psychiatrist.

He finds his new psychiatrist annoying. She puts other people's sceneries to get into his head to see what is wrong with him. Telling him that his suffering in the military is similar to a women going through a divorce. König could care less about her personal life or anyones.

She got up a left after his session while the guards took him to his room. The psychiatrist told the staff to give König his medication, but they all took a step back. She ask for his nurse, but they all stood quiet until one spoke up and said that König doesn't have a nurse, his last nurse died and it has been hard for them to find a new one.

She quickly made her way to the administrator's office and plead for a new nurse. The administrator told her no so she spread her legs and he quickly said yes. After all she didn't want to be the next victim of his so a nurse should do.

Then you came along. Sweet and innocent you. You took the job when you saw the job opening on their website and it was perfect timing. You just moved here and needed a job asap. After you graduated you worked at a hospital for a year until the bills and rent went up and the pay stayed low so when you found out that a facility needed a new nurse with triple the pay, you took it.

You waved at the receptionist hello while clutching the strap of your crossbody bag. "Hello, I'm looking for the administrator, I'm (Y/n). I'm the new Rn"

"Oh miss (Y/n)." He gave you a hesitant smile which caught you off guard, but you didn't think too much. I mean the receptionist has seen so many new nurses come in go fast, but you didn't need to know that, do you? "The administrator is waiting for you in his office."

"Okay thank you." You signal some confusion to the receptionist. "Um?"

"It's down to your right, left office." He said hand signaling the directions.

You gave him a smile and quickly headed to the office by giving a few knocks until you heard a male voice telling you to come in.

The men stood, shook your hand and told you that a fellow nurse was going to give you a rundown about how things work.

You followed the nurse has he took you to the floor you'll be working on. This will definitely be different then working at a hospital. He told you where the nurses station is and the name of the doctors that come to see the patients aswell as the patients themselves. However, your only worry is one patient in particular. König.

He showed you where his room. "This is where he stays. Now, you have to be careful with him. Can't turn your back on him. Don't leave anything near him and don't be near him in general."

'Don't be near him. How will you give his medication if you can't be near him'

"If you feel like your in danger, don't hesitate to scream for help, besides the door will always be open when you go in and two guards have to be with you at all times if you go inside his room. Don't make small talk to him, don't give him anything unless it has been confirmed with the heard nurse here. Which is me okay."

You nodded in understanding of the situation. He gently grabbed your arm and pulled you to a place away from everyone else. "Look I shouldn't be telling you this, but I feel like you deserve to know. But you can't tell anyone I told you this, okay."

"Okay." You responded.

"The last few nurses that attended him always ended up getting killed by him. He is the reason why we always need a new nurse."

'So that's why the pay is higher'

"If you want to quit I don't blame you, but you should know what you're getting yourself into." He whispered to you.

Are you scared? I mean the fact that you can die is. Either stay and get paid or go back and be in debt, which one is better? "Thank you," you looked at his tag, "Jacob"

"No problem. Oh and Dr. Smith is his psychiatrist so whatever she tells you, you do. She can be a bitch sometimes, but she only comes in on Tuesdays and Thursdays or if there is a tragic emergency."

You gave him one last okay before he went back to his computer. You looked around and saw how many guards there are in the floor. More guards than nurses.

You saw docotrs leaving the patients rooms, you strolled around getting to know the facility. You went to the locker room and quickly placed your bag inside while fixing your scrubs and your hair. You head your way the nurse's station ready to do what you need to do. They started you off by you giving medication and taking vitals to some patients, just for you to get the hang of it as well as report anything back to their medical files and re-learn how to work the system. Jacob gave you a little index card with the information you need about König. Mainly how to give his medication. As for needles, a guard has to hold him down.

"(Y/n)" Jacob called for in the desk area. You went up to him. "This will be your work space, you are in charge of these patients, which includes König." He showed you the list of patients which is not a few compared to others. "The biggest one is König, which is why you don't have a much. All their routines are the same. Sometimes the patient will call out for you."

"How?" Not like they have a control to call for assistance.

"A guard will come and tell you. Everything else is pretty straight forward all of their medical history is in their charts aswell as their medication and their dose. They all share the same doctor who comes by every few months, unless they need medical attention. You get the gist right?"

"Yes." You said staring at the computer screen.

"Good. All the medical supplies are back here." He pointed to the big beige cabinet that is behind you. "And obviously the patients medication are in their and here are the keys." You looked at what the computer was placed, a big drawer each with a key hole and a sticker of the patients name on each one. "If you have any question, feel free to ask me."

You nodded and did what you are paid to do. You quickly got the hang of things. Lunch came in quick as you saw the kitchen staff making their way to the dining room area. The guards went in took all patients to the area ready for them to eat. They two went in and brought out König. He was wearing the usual white t-shirt with the white sweatpants. Part of his hair was tied back into a low ponytail while the rest hanged loosely to his face. He doesn't have long hair, but not short either. He turned his head towards you. You can see his eyes as they stared at you.

König didn't smile, didn't frown. He was intrigued.

You looked back into the computer and quickly pulled up his file. Ex- Military, age to be around 40. Austrian. Can speak German. Suffers from severe social anxiety. Blood type AB. Activities in the facility- arts and crafts. Suffered from multiple injuries during his deployment. History of broken arm, leg, stab wounds.

'Ex- Military. No wonder.'

After lunch it was time to give them their meds. You went to do your round, checking their vitals and giving them their medication. You made your way towards König's room. The two guards opened the door widley while one entered in. König saw you as he sat on his bed legs slightly spread open while his triceps rested on his things. His head hanged low but peaked up when you entered.

You took out the aneroid Sphygmomanometer. You made your way towards him. Already doing something they warned you about. His eye sight followed your figure. You were too nervous to look at his face. If you don't look at him then nothing bad will happen. König stared at you as you place opened the cuff and wanting to place it on his bicep. You were honestly doubting that the cuff was going to fit around his bicep, compared to yours it was like comparing a mountain vs a sand castle.

He moved his bicep slightly up for you too take a better look. The guards gave eachother looks as if he never done this before. You wrapped the cuff around his bicep, not wrapping too tight. You felt bicep, they're hard. Hard as a rock. You pressed on the little latex bulb, giving it a few squeeze while checking the gaudge. When you got the results, you wrote it down quickly.

As for König, he didn't do anything, he just watched. He watched as you came near him. To check his tempt, his heart rate. He saw you bringing the little Dixie cup with his medication. He felt the guards stiffen knowing this is the part where he will either snap your neck or crack your skull open with ease.

You placed the cup on to the little table you have to take with you with all the supplies you need and rolled it near him. Your guess is that he snaps when someone wants to drug him. Ex- Military, you won't be surprised he they forced him to take some sort of drugs while fighting off his enemies. "It's okay. This one is to calm your nerves, I know they can hard to deal with. Trust me I know. I'll give you the one that will help you sleep at night so you can't get comfortable."

He took the cup and threw the pill inside his mouth, quickly swallowing it. The little cup is so tiny compared to his hands you couldn't even see the cup. He placed the cup back onto the table. "Thank you." You said to him while walking out of his room. As soon as you heard the guards shutting the door you felt the nervousness leaving your body.

König laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He felt a smile on his face.

He haven't felt this way in a long time. Quite frankly never.

You are definitely getting in his interest.

#yandere könig #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #fanfic #konig #könig cod #könig x reader #könig #könig x y/n

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jitarossun · 2 months ago

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You need an attitude check

Summary : After teasing Jayce a bit too much, he finally decided to take matters into his own hands.

TW : Smut, use of toy, spank, slight praising, rough treatment, description of female anatomy

Pairing : Jayce x fem!reader

Words count : 700 A/N : Just a little smut between two chapters of smoke and sparks, this is my very first spicy fanfic, i hope it's good, enjoy!

"Yeah that's right..."

His voice low and not above a whisper, his eyes were fixed on what he was doing, his eyes narrowed and a smirk written on his face.

"Taking it so well… You were made for this aren’t you ?"

You were standing facing the wall, your hands flat on it, slightly bent over to give Jayce better access. Your shirt was half unbuttoned, revealing your bra, your panties at your feet, your legs slightly apart and your skirt hiding what was going on underneath.

Jayce was crouched behind you, his hand firmly gripping the base of a dildo that he was slowly pushing into you, stretching your walls in a painful pleasure.

He hadn't even taken the time to finger you first. To be honest, he was a bit pissed.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

He'd had a long day and you'd decided to tease him a bit since he'd come home, which he didn't like at all.

As you were getting ready to go into the bathroom to get ready for bed, you made one thought too many, which caused him to turn you around and push you against the wall, one hand around your neck and the other sliding down your panties.

"Okay, I get it now, you're really asking for it." He just murmured in your ear before raising his hand and giving you a big, hard smack.

Okay, this time you really made him angry.

After a few warnings, whispered in a sultry voice and through gritted teeth, he went to your shared closet where you were storing all the toys you had. He obviously hadn't chosen the biggest, but he hadn't chosen the smallest either. The perfect size to make you regret all that teasing.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

A moan escaped your lips to replace the whimpers and whining you were making when Jayce’s free hand reached your clit, rubbing in a circle with two fingers while his other hand was busy making sure you were taking the whole dildo in your tight heat.

"Good girl, keep making noises for me…" He praised you as he kissed the back of your thigh, watching the dildo being now fully into your cunt, your walls spasming around it, trying desperately to adjust it.

But when you thought you were finally adjusting, Jayce pulled out the dildo almost totally before slamming it back into you, drawing a loud moan from your lips, tears at the corner of your eyes, threatening to roll down at any time.

And immediately, Jayce instaurated a relentless and brutal pace, dragging the toy all along your warm walls, making sure you’ll remember it, you’ll still feel it after a few days.

His fingers increased their pace on your clit while he was pounding the dildo into you, hardly, deeply and quickly. You couldn’t say anything, only moans could get out of your mouth as you bend over slightly to give him a better access.

"And believe me that’s not even half of what I’m going to do to you."

He said as he pinched your clit and made the dildo thrust deeply, hitting that sweet spot that made you cry out of pleasure. You could feel your stomach tighten, you were really close but he wouldn’t let you come, not now, not after all of that.

"Nuh uh, I don’t think so." he said as he pull out the dildo from your cunt, glistening with your arousal and letting go of your clit, making you whine at the loss.

You were sweating, breathing heavily, your body trembling with need and desperate for release. Jayce stands up behind you, kissing your neck, one hand cupping your breast and the other one grabbing your waist. You tilted your head a bit, he licked all along your neck before biting in, hardly, as you gasp, just before he slammed his hand around your mouth to cover the noises and he spoke, close to your ear, his breath tickling you.

« On all fours, on the bed, right now. I’m going to fuck that attitude out of you. »

#arcane #arcane fanfic #jayce talis #jayce x female reader #jayce x reader #jayce talis smut #jayce talis x reader #arcane smut #jayce arcane #arcane x reader #jayce talis arcane

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 7 months ago

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Beautiful Stranger

(5) I'm thinking back to when I was young

Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Fem!Reader

Summary: It's time for Thanksgiving and you aren't used to so many people, but what happens when Vis insults Wanda it's the tipping point for you.

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: 18+, Men and Minors DNI, suckling, intimacy but no sex, angst, hurt/comfort, Vis is an asshole, family dynamics, cultural sensitivity (mentions of Wanda's family), alcohol use, gender roles and expectations, pregnancy

A/N: Honestly this was the first thing my brain wanted to do after kinktober because I'd been sitting on the idea since before kinktober! Next chapter will be Christmas/Hanukkah!

November 7, 2023

The soft moans that you pulled out of Wanda in the morning as you suckled gently from her breast; the warm milk filled your mouth. Her hand cradled the back of your head, gently scratching at your scalp.

You let your eyes flutter open to catch her smiling down at you. Though it had only been a few months of showing Wanda things, letting her explore things and just all around getting comfortable with each other.

You let go of her darkened nip with a pop. She closes her eyes and lets her head lean back against the headboard. You never thought you'd find a pregnant woman this attractive, but here you were. Getting to explore things you'd only ever fantasized about.

You push yourself up to give her a kiss. Her shirt falling back into place just in time as you hear the pitter pattering of the boys before the door is slamming open and they're belly flopping onto the bed. Sending Wanda into a laughing fit as you do a complete 180 to how you were mere minutes ago in her lap.

You're wrestling the boys. Showing off how you can still lift them both so easily before play slamming them back into the bed. Holding them there.

“One. Two. Three. The Troublesome Twins once again are defeated by The Giant!” Wanda calls out as she gets out of bed. “Now you two head down stairs go play a game or watch TV while we get ready, okay?” Wanda informs them and they waste no time racing down the stairs to get first choice at the game or show.

You shake your head with a smile, closing and locking the door before getting ready with her.

°○°○°○°○°

Just as quickly as the Halloween decor went up, the late Autumn and Hanukkah decor started going up. Christmas tunes humming from your mouth and this time the boys offered up their help. Wanting to be good boys and get the newest gaming system on the eighth night.

Wanda and you had discussed it and didn't want to leave out Christmas so while they taught you about Hanukkah you'd teach them about Christmas. You'd get to take the boys to go pick out a real tree just like you and your father had always done.

“Come on you three time for a break. I made hot chocolate!” Wanda called and Billy's head spun around.

“With the marshmallows?”

“Mhmm.”

“And the whipped cream?” Tommy chimed in.

“Of course.”

“And the–”

“And the sprinkles of peppermint and cinnamon sticks. Yes, my two beautiful boys. I'd never forget all the things that make Mommy's hot chocolate so special.” Wanda took both boys in each arm. Giving them a kiss on top of their heads. “Now go grab a cup before it gets cold.” They hurried off to the kitchen as Wanda walked up to you. A hand on the back of her hip as she let her arms rest on your shoulders.

You smile down at her, gently letting your thumbs massage her lower back. You knew this little girl had nothing on Wanda carrying twins, but you still knew Wanda was hurting at 6 months pregnant. You held her close a moment before the two of you joined the boys in the kitchen. Wanda grabbed her cup first before handing over one for you with a smile.

You watch the three loves of your lives realizing the short time they had been in it, but just how big of an impact they’ve had. You couldn’t imagine a day without them. Wanda looks at you from the boys trying to get whipped cream on the other. Seeing the sappy smile on your face as you look at them distantly.

Her weight brings you back to the moment. Looking down at her head leaning against your arm. A smile on her face as she’s looking up at you. A hand cups her cheek and you lean down, letting her meet you halfway. Her lips are always so soft and you never want to stop. You hear the boys make playful gagging noises. You smile against Wanda’s lips. “I’m gonna go take care of the peanut gallery.” You whisper against her lips before letting go and chasing after the boys, laughing as they scream down the hall and up the stairs.

°○°○°○°○°

November 23, 2023

The house was abuzz with life. Much more than you were used to. You had tried helping Wanda and her mother but the two of them quickly threw you out of the kitchen so you were now sat on the couch.

Your father, Wanda's father, her brother Pietro, Natasha, Yelena, finally Natasha's and Yelenas's father all sat around the big TV of Wanda's house watching the big Thanksgiving day football games.

You knew Vis was off somewhere and so was your mom which made you anxious, but Lena and Tasha kept you grounded about the whole situation. Soon enough you could get into the game. Even though the teams playing weren’t anyones team you all still went back and forth rooting for the teams as touchdowns were made and passes were successful.

Eventually you had to get up and grab another beer as you made your way to the kitchen where Wanda was alone for a moment. Her back turned to you as she whipped the potatoes. Her dress today was beautiful, a lovely scarlet color, with a square neckline that was doing nothing to hide her chest. The dress fell to her plush mid thighs. If there were no one else home you’d be on your knees worshiping her like the goddess she is.

You smile to yourself before walking over and wrapping your arms around her waist, slightly holding up the growing belly as Wanda lets out a sigh of relief. “Feel better?” You whisper against her shoulder giving the exposed skin a soft kiss.

“Much. She’s getting heavier by the day and with all the prep work she feels even heavier.” Wanda leans back against you. Head lulling a bit.

“Let me help a little just by holding you for a bit, okay pretty girl?” Wanda hummed in response as you continued to hold her for another minute before gently letting her belly back down.

“Thank you sweet girl. That was much needed.” Wanda turned in your arms, her own gently placed on your shoulders. You leaned your foreheads together and swayed gently as the soft christmas music played in the kitchen speaker. You loved getting lost in moments with Wanda.

“You two are very cute.” You hear Wanda’s mom’s voice call out, her accent was much thicker than Wanda’s, but it was apparent that her parents had immigrated here at a younger age. You turn to smile at her. Wanda’s mother was much sweeter than your own when it came to the relationship the two of you had formed. Your mother was only here out of the necessity for appearances. Wanda’s mother, Iryna, seemed to be thrilled for Wanda finding someone new.

You heard the boys before you saw them, as they came barreling through the kitchen. Grabbing each with your arms and a smile on your face. “Woah you two where's the fire?” You ask as you hold them over your shoulders and the two are in a fit of giggles.

“We’re hungry, is dinner ready yet?” Tommy asks and Billy’s nodding his head in agreement.

“Soon you two, but here,” You easily keep the boys over your shoulders as Iryna stiffles a giggle while you grab two pieces of bread, “to hold you over until Mommy and Babička are done cooking.” You set the two of them down and after handing them the snack they rush off again with a quick.

“Thank you Daddy!”

You freeze a bit as you glance at Iryna, wondering if she’ll say anything about it. “They call you Daddy?” You chew the inside of your lip.

“Oh yeah they started doing that almost immediately and it kind of stuck.” Wanda explains. “We tried getting them to use something else, but they insisted since they never called Vis Daddy.”

Iryna takes a moment before the smile comes back to her face, looking at you as she hands you a beer, her voice soft as she sends you back out to the others, “I think you make a better Daddy than him anyways.”

°○°○°○°○°

Once everyone started eating it was quiet except for the sounds of silverware hitting against plates. You were sitting next to Wanda, Vision directly across from you. Then your mom and your dad at one end of the table while the other side held Wanda’s dad, Oleg.

You smiled when Wanda's hand found your thigh, sighing happily and relaxing as you felt her thumb gently caress your thigh. You'd matched Wanda with a scarlet button up and dark gray dress pants.

Things were going smoothly which surprised you, but also put a smile on your face. You heard the oven go off and Wanda was about to get up, but you knew she was hurting so you kissed her cheek, “I've got it pretty girl. You stay right there.” You say with a smile and Wanda tries to protest, but you insist. Then as you're getting up you hear it,

“Wanda should be the one to do it.” Vision calls out. The whole table was at attention. Silence falls over everyone as you look at him.

“And why is that?” You ask with a heady tilt. You feel Wanda's hand on your trying to pull you back and not make a scene, but over the months of the comments here and there you've reached your boiling point.

“Well if you’re going to look like a man and have my sons call you Daddy then I think the woman should have her place in the kitchen. It's the only thing she's good at.” There's venom in his voice and your eyes flick over to your mom who is nodding her head. There it is you've boiled over.

“Or how about instead I be a gentleman and help my pregnant girlfriend who's been on her feet all day to make this amazing Thanksgiving meal from scratch for all of us, even the ungrateful ones and yeah the boys do call me Daddy and maybe that's because I'm a better father figure than their actual dad! I've let some comments slide since I met you Vis, but not anymore. Wanda is my girlfriend now and I won't stand for the sexist and downright rude comments you make about her! Wanda is beautiful and kind and caring and hardworking and a great mother! I won't sit here and let you continue to insult her. So you can either shut up or find a new place to go out on Thanksgiving,” you stop turning your attention to your mom, “that includes you. I won't let you threaten me for the choices I'm making as an adult because so far my choices have led me down a path I wouldn't change for anything in the world.”

No one speaks and all eyes are on you. Your heart is pounding in your chest and the anxiety starts to kick in as you rush off to the kitchen.

You lean against the counter, fingers gripping the stone top until your knuckles are white. Your heart is in your ears. You wanna throw up everything you've eaten so far, but then a familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Take a deep breath milaya.” she asks of you and you do as told. “There we go.” She's rubbing soothing circles in your back and gently kissing your shoulder blades.

You turn around in her arms, picking her up and setting her on the counter a memory flashes in your mind of the first time you did that and you cup her cheeks, kissing gently. The two of you move together in perfect sync. A dance you’ve now memorized.

When you pull back, Wanda is smiling softly, her thumb brushing your cheek. “Thank you. For always standing up for me. For always reminding me of my value and worth. I lost it for a while with him, but I've found it again in you sweet girl.” Her voice is soft, almost a whisper.

You nuzzle into her hand, allowing yourself to be soft for a moment with her. Only with her. “I mean every word of it, Wands. You know I do. I'll always remind you of how loved you are. How beautiful you are. How amazing of a person you are. You deserve it.” You see the tears of happiness build up in her eyes, but nothing falls.

Just as you go to kiss her again the oven is beeping at the two of you. A smile forming on both your faces.

“Desserts gonna burn if we don't do something about that.” She whispers against your lips. You give a quick kiss before grabbing it out, setting it on the cooling rack Wanda had prepared.

You turn back to your beautiful girlfriend with a smile, letting your eyes glance over her before picking her up and kissing her deeply.

Even with Vis and your mom this had to be the best Thanksgiving because you had Wanda as your girlfriend and you were more than thankful to have her, the boys, and the little bundle growing in Wanda.

Taglist: @marvelwomenarehot0

#ley writes #ley writes series #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #mommy wanda #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x beefy!reader #beefy!fem!reader

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spookwriter-xo · 7 months ago

Text

Coppélia

Chapter 6 - The Kim Estate

Chapter Summary - A little bit of Y/N's backstory and her family's history. She gets a tour of the Kim Estate from San and Wooyoung and gets a brief glimpse into the boys' private lives.

warnings: San does get a little violent towards the end, and Wooyoung cracks a few sex jokes (MDNI)

Series Masterlist

The house I grew up in was nothing short of a prison. I had all the luxuries of high society, yes, but that didn't mean I felt the same warmth and compassion children should be surrounded with.

My father owned a fashion company, Belluxe, one of the biggest in our part of the world. He had a lot of ties with some dangerous and powerful people, and as I got older I realized how much it had really gotten to his head.

The power. The greed.

I was forbidden to talk to him when I was young, only if we had guests. If I did without permission, he'd get angry. He had only gotten physical with me once, and that was when our family bond broke forever.

I was nine years old, home from boarding school with Christmas like I normally would be. My younger sister was ecstatic to have me home, finally having someone other than our mother to play with. Our older sister, she wasn't around this time. I figured she'd stayed at school for the holidays, but as I got older I found out she had run away.

I went by a different name back then, first and last. I'd changed it once I was disowned at 17, wanting to leave that old life behind. It was a lot easier than it should have been, all things considered.

I remember we were sitting at the dinner table, the only sound coming from our cutlery scraping across the porcelain plates. My mother had asked briefly how school was, and I gave a short but honest answer; "It was alright."

My father leaned back in his chair, staring at the empty seat where my sister should have been. He cleared his throat, causing us all to turn our heads in attention.

"Chariya, you'll be the next heir." He says simply, my old name, it felt weird hearing it even if it was just a memory. "Since Chalita has failed to exceed my expectations."

My family was Thai on my mother's side. She'd named us all after members of her family still in Thailand, bringing a piece of her old life with her.

Mother and Father married after father knocked my mother up with Chalita, the eldest. My mother used to say he was a kind man until she gave him too many daughters and no son. I think she just used it as an excuse to hide the snake he really is.

"My love, she is too young-" My mother states before she is cut off.

"Enough! I told you not to speak against me." He shouts, slamming his fist down on the table. My little sister, Chaluai, begins to cry at the sudden noise. My mother bows her head and stands, taking Chaluai with her as she exits the dining room.

I stare down at my plate, hearing the sound of his chair creaking as he leans back.

"Your mother doesn't understand the ways of this world." He says. "But one day you will."

I was startled awake by a knock on the door, causing my body to jump from my skin.

"Hello?" I call out groggily, sitting up.

"Uhm... Y/N? It's San." A muffled voice from the other side of the door calls out.

"Right..." I murmur, the events from the last few nights creeping their way back into my head. I stretch and swing my legs over the side. My feet hit the wood as I shuffle towards the door, opening it slowly.

San stands there on the other side, wearing a suit a little different from the one he wore last night. His eyes widen as I open the door, quickly looking up.

"Just thought I'd wake you... Wooyoung and I are home whenever you want that tour." He says, finding the ceiling very interesting.

"Oh! Just give me a few minutes and I'll come find you." I say, fingers gripping the door. San nods before hurriedly rushing down the hall and towards the stairs. I watch him go before closing the door. He was a lot shyer than last night. Maybe something was on his mind.

I walk into the walk-in wardrobe and look around at all the luxurious clothes hung up for me. There was a cabinet in the center, inside millions of dollars worth of jewelry for me to choose from. I feel a shiver run up my spine at the sight. It had been so long since I'd seen anything like this, and it felt wrong.

I hadn't worked for it, I didn't buy it myself. These men had only met me last night yet they were already willing to spend millions on me. Why?

I settled on a simple top and skirt, slipping on some fluffy slippers that were positioned neatly beside my bed before making my way out into the hallway.

The eery silence shared with the darkness of the hallway settled a sick feeling in my stomach. It was so quiet, that no chatter or thumping of footsteps could be heard. I figured Wooyoung and San were downstairs somewhere, praying that they weren't the type to jump out and scare me.

I head towards the staircase, the scenery getting brighter as I peek down at the pretty white marble that now glittered in the sunlight. My hand slides down the railing as the stairs take me to the lower floor. I gaze at the paintings on the wall, one of all 8 of them positioned on and around a fancy-looking couch, and another with a younger-looking Hongjoong, who I assumed to be his mother, father, and brother.

I didn't know he had a brother, I wonder what happened to him?

I glanced left and right once I reached the bottom of the stairs, the house felt like a maze, going on forever in both directions.

"San? Wooyoung?" I call out, my hands finding my elbows as I glance around. I decided to go left, entering what seemed to be the main living room based on the three couches and the fireplace with a television situated above it. I reach my hand out and press my fingers into the plush cushions, feeling the soft fabric beneath my skin.

"Y/N?" A voice makes me jump, I turn around to see Wooyoung standing in the doorway I just walked through. He had a grin on his face. "Scared ya?" He says with a light cackle.

I splutter for a moment before crossing my arms tighter. I watch as he scans my figure, admiring my figure.

"Eyes are up here, Wooyoung." I tease, as he stares a little too long at my legs.

"Yeosang picked your wardrobe well." He says, ignoring my words and stepping a little closer. "Would prefer you don't wear it around me though."

I hold my hand up and stop him from coming any closer right as San enters from another door behind me.

"Hongjoong said we should give you a tour." He says gruffly, his hair looking a lot messier than it was when he visited maybe 20 minutes prior. I glanced at his knuckles, noticing the light bruising that had begun to blossom before he quickly hid them in the pockets of his jacket.

"I'm ready to start whenever you are," I say, offering him a smile which he hesitates to return.

"Well, this is the main living room. Pretty obvious since it looks like a living room." Wooyoung chirps, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "Don't mind if San is a little quiet. He gets grumpy when he has to work early."

I glance back at San as Wooyoung starts to lead me through another archway into a large room. I gasped as the realization hit me that this was a ballroom. A large and grand ballroom, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. There was a grand piano on a small platform tucked away into a corner, floor-to-ceiling length windows with a matching door that led out to the backyard and a large diamond-clad chandelier dangled from the ceiling.

I could feel Wooyoung's grin as I slowly moved away from him, my jaw hanging slightly as I walked to the center. There were mosaic patterns that formed a lily flower on the floor under my feet which made me smile.

"Seonghwa told us to open the curtains for you, they haven't been opened since Hongjoongs parents were alive. The only person that uses this room is Mingi when he wants to play piano." San says from behind me. "Hongjoong's mother painted the lily flower herself."

"It's a painting?" I ask, turning to look back at both of them in surprise.

"Doesn't look it right? She was extremely talented at making things look different than what they are." Wooyoung says, the same grin on his face.

The tour went on, and every room amazed me more than the last. The kitchen was huge, almost twice the size of my bedroom with a dining room attached to it which was just as big. My mind wandered to all the grand dinners they must have hosted when Hongjoongs parents were still alive. Did they host balls too? It would be foolish not to considering how beautiful the setting was.

There was a pool, a greenhouse, and even a golf course in the backyard. I glanced over the hill and caught a glimpse of a tennis court on the far side of the golf course. I wondered how many acres this house was on. We weren't that from the city, however I couldn't see any other buildings for miles.

Inside on the first floor, there was a two-story library, another 2 smaller seating rooms, and laundry/housekeeping quarters behind the kitchen. The hallways were twisting in all directions, as if intentional. Was the layout meant to confuse people? Maybe intruders?

It would be smart if it was, all things considered. The house was intimidating from the outside just on its own, getting lost on the inside felt like a terrifying idea.

"Do you guys have maids?" I ask my arm now linked with Wooyoungs. I'd hate to be a worker here, having to clean this house would have to take days. Not only that but cooking? Laundry? Maintenance work would be a nightmare too.

"We do, they have Sundays off." Wooyoung answers, leading me back to the main stairwell. "Upstairs is mostly bedrooms and bathrooms. Hongjoong's home office is at the end of the hall on the right." He adds.

I nod, my neck craning to look at the paintings lining the walls once again. There was a painting of a woman, a beautiful woman with long black hair and piercing green eyes with freckles dusting her cheeks. I stared at the painting for a moment, getting a sinking feeling that she was staring back.

"That's Aurora." Wooyoung murmurs, eyes on the painting too. "She was... The one before you." He hesitates to say, glancing down at me before looking back up at the painting. I let go of his arm and climbed a few steps to stand directly in front of her painting.

"She's beautiful... Pretty name too." I say softly, my eyes softening as more details reveal themselves.

"You would have liked her," San says, his arms crossed as he looks at the painting, a sad look in his eyes. "She was like you, not a dancer though... More of a reader."

"If you wanted to find her she'd only ever be in the library," Wooyoung says with a small chuckle. "Most of the books in there were gifts for her, from us." He says.

"What happened to her?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as I turn back to them. They're both staring up at the painting, Wooyoung lowers his head and lets out a soft, pained sigh once he registers my question.

"We'll tell you in time. You should get settled first." San answers, his voice low.

Oddly enough, I didn't feel an ounce of jealousy. It was obvious she wasn't in the picture, whether she was alive or not. However, the pained look on Wooyoungs face and the behavior of the other boys when she is mentioned made me think it was the latter. I felt sad for them. It was obvious they loved her, maybe more than I would ever realize or truly know.

A part of me was envious of that fact. To be loved so unconditionally was something I had dreamed of since I was a little girl. But, another part of me was scared. Did their work have something to do with her death? It made sense in a way.

A loud crash made me jump from my thoughts. I look to San and Wooyoung who are suddenly on high alert before San grumbles something and storms off into the direction of the main living room. I glance at Wooyoung as I step down the stairs to follow but the man stops me.

"Don't follow him." He says in a hushed voice, gripping my hips in a tight hold as I glance behind him. My eyes widened, the door San had entered through at the start of the day was wide open with a man stumbling through. San grabs the man by the back of the neck and practically drags him back into the darkness beyond the door.

The man lets out a string of curses and begs as San slams the door shut behind them both, his cries fading into nothing the further they go.

"It's the basement," Wooyoung says, answering my question before I even had to ask. "It's the only place in this house that you are not allowed to go. Understand?" He says, his expression void of any playfulness I had come to associate with his character.

"I understand," I say, staring back up at him with the same wide-eyed expression.

"Good girl." He says with a grin, hand cupping my cheek briefly before moving away, heading towards the staircase. "Come, I'll show you everyone's rooms."

I glance at the door to the basement for a moment before following Wooyoung up the stairs.

I've decided to update the story consistently every Tuesday at 12 am (AEST). A Christmas special is being planned which will be set a few years after the events of this book.

I urge minors to not interact beyond this chapter, for it's going to start getting heavy from this point. I will be checking profiles to make sure so please have something to prove your age on your profile! I don't want to traumatize children <3

Also, I closed the taglist a little early however I'll be going through the comments and the past few posts and making sure I didn't miss anyone. If you aren't on it when this chapter is posted, I'll add you to the next one.

taglist:

@bellaptv @arilevenatz @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @hecateslittlewitchling

@neuviloved @monstacheol @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone

@vtyb23 @bigbabygremlin @professormingiglasses

@pinuspot @astral-trashcan @ateezswonderland

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bahablastplz · 10 months ago

Text

All in | Chapter 10

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: you're finally back at the house and you need to find yourself a new normal again. you take this time to get better acquainted with the others and make sense of what you know

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

When you arrive back at the house, you start to feel sick.

You’re not sure if it’s nerves or stress, but in reality it’s probably the events of the last few days finally starting to catch up to you. You immediately excuse yourself to your room and crash onto your bed, fighting back the urge to vomit.

Someone knocks on your door. You tell them to go away and they do; that’s how you know it isn’t Chan. The night comes and goes and you sleep your way through it. You sleep into the morning. Well into the morning, in fact, that you miss both breakfast and lunch.

You wake up finally, drenched in sweat and completely sore all over your body. It’s the sound of yelling outside of your door that rouses you from your sleep, your door slamming open causing you to cower under your covers.

“Get up,” Chan says. His voice does not allow room for argument.

“Chan, you should leave her–”

“Changbin, I don’t fucking need you to tell me what to do right now. Y/N, get up. You’re eating dinner with us. You’re not skipping another meal,” he says. Tears prick at your eyes but you’re successful at holding them back. You are not going to cry. Not in front of Chan.

“I don’t feel good,” you say.

“That’s bullshit,” he says, nearly cutting you off as if he anticipated your answer. “I know I have put you through a lot these past few days, but like Hell am I going to let you wither away in my house.” You let out a squeal as you feel the covers get yanked off of your body, leaving you feeling bare. The cold air pricks at your sweat covered skin and immediately you get goosebumps from the sensation. When you look up you see him standing over the mattress with his arms crossed, his gaze boring into your features, and you roll out of bed with a sigh. You feel nauseous as you follow him to the dining room but you don’t argue. However, the blood in your skin does start to boil.

Who the fuck is he to tell you what you can and can’t do? He’s already locked you up in this house, killed someone in front of you, and controlled just about every movement since you’ve ended up here. Is he going to dictate your whole meal plan too? God, you’re seething.

But you also know he’s right. That’s what infuriates you. Your physical ailments are just a manifestation of your trauma and your psyche, and maybe you have been letting them consume you for the past 24-hours, but that is your absolute right to do so. It chills you that he pays close attention to your each and every movement.

You think back to your conversation with Woojin in the warehouse. “Chan doesn’t like in the way that normal people like. He gets infatuated. He becomes obsessed and controlling and people end up dead.” You suppress the urge to shudder. You’re not sure you want to be loved or even liked by Chan. He was a passionate, attentive lover. You can only imagine being with Chan being like that, but tenfold.

On the other hand, you didn’t quite want to be disliked by Chan.

Besides the lack of food in your stomach from the past day, something else makes you nauseous when you sit at the table. Felix. You shoot him a smile and despise the way that your heart squeezes when he grins back at you. At this point, you can’t deny that you feel something towards the man. You shouldn’t. You absolutely fucking shouldn’t. Despite his kind treatment, he is still in the mafia, just like everyone else here. You’ve just allowed yourself to lean into your delusion that you could be something more, that maybe there’s more behind his kind actions that meets the eye.

You pick at your food at first. You realize it’s the first time that everyone has been here at dinner since before Woojin left. That feels like such a long time ago. Now, Lee Know is finally back, and you notice that the dynamic feels just a little bit more complete. Despite the last few days being absolutely wild, dinner conversation is just about as normal as it would be. You find yourself smiling subconsciously when jokes are cracked. And before you know it, you've eaten your whole plate. You really were hungrier than you realized.

As you clean your plate and slide it into the trash, you run right into Felix. Literally. His warm hands find their way to your waist to steady you and you don't meet his eye. Your face warms up at the action and you turn away from him, suddenly nervous.

“Hey,” he says, voice laced with surprise. “I haven’t seen you in a bit. You doing okay?”

“I’m… better now, I guess. Thanks. The past few days were just…”

“A lot?”

“Yeah,” you reply, daring a gaze to his softening eyes, a warm brown hue. “A lot.”

“If you’re feeling up to it, we could train some more?” he asks. His eyes are searching your face as if to confirm that you’re in a well-enough state to do so. You hope he doesn’t notice the blush that spreads over your features just from talking to him. You think back to the motel, and how his lips had gotten dangerously close to brushing against yours. You could feel his warm breath on yours, and if you had moved even just a centimeter closer you would have kissed, and there

would have been no coming back from that. Can you trust yourself to train with him? To not allow yourself to develop further feelings, or to act and cross that unreturnable line?

“No thanks,” you tell him as politely as you can muster. “I’m… still not feeling too well, physically. Still kind of nauseous, you know? Raincheck?”

“Yeah, of course!” he says. It’s at this moment when you realize his hands are still on your waist from when he steadied you from your near-fall. If your face wasn’t red before, it certainly is now. Great. As if he’s realized this too, his hands fall from their place on your body and he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I hope you feel better! Let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

Felix is too polite and heartfelt for his own good, you think. It’s the quality of his that catches you the most off guard, the one that makes you forget so easily that he’s supposed to be dangerous.

As you walk back to your room, his touch a hot remnant on your waist, you try to remind yourself of all the times that Felix has proven himself to be more dangerous than he lets on. The night you escaped, for example, he threatened the men that had cornered you with a gun. Felix punching Woojin in the nose after he touched you, another example. Then there’s the night he brought you to the hotel. He had shown up with blood covering his white stained suit, though you had never asked about it. So yes, he has proven himself to be a dangerous, strong man. Why hasn’t that deterred your heart from yearning after him, though?

You sigh once you’ve returned to your room. You realize that you will need to get a new book from Hyunjin. You decide to put that off for now, however, and opt to leave the room. You know you will need to shower the sweat off of your clammy skin from your excessive sleep anyway, so you might as well go to the gym while you’re at it. Without Felix, this time. You almost feel bad that you lied and decided to go to the gym without him, but it’s not for lack of a good reason. You pick out a pair of clothes from your wardrobe that are loosely-fitting, easy for movement, and throw your hair up into a ponytail.

On your way to the gym, however, you realize there’s something that doesn’t feel right. A nagging feeling in your stomach. It’s at this time that you find yourself seeking out Chan, walking to his room for the first time since you moved in. There’s much you need to talk about, and it’s probably best to do so alone.

The door at the very end of the hall. It’s the only one besides Chan’s office that is characterized with a big metal deadbolt, almost comical in nature. Before you can plant a seed of doubt in yourself, you’re rapping on the door three times, hard. You don’t realize that it’s already late to begin with, so you hadn’t considered the option that he might be asleep until you’re met with silence. Hesitantly you turn around putting pressure on the balls of your feet to walk away before you hear a click, the door creaking open. Your heart beats fast for a second, and you’re met with the sight of Chan before you can consider running away.

He looks at you, confused. He obviously was not expecting you to be on the other side of the door. You wonder if he was expecting Hyunjin instead. You notice that he’s freshly showered, his dark hair falling in messy curls around his head and this kind of throws you off guard. In front of you, Chan has only ever looked neat and put-together, hair straightened and meticulous in his appearance. Even when he found you in the abandoned warehouse, he looked the embodiment of perfection, still in his suit from the gala. To see him in something so casual, sweats and a loose t-shirt after dinner… You almost forget for a second that the man in front of you is Bang Chan, one of the most dangerous men in the country, leader of the mafia. Almost.

You clear your throat. “We need to talk,” you say. You feel triumphant for once, that you’re the one taking him by surprise, that you’re the one with the upperhand, but that’s all forgotten when he opens his door wider and invites you into his room.

Well. You weren’t exactly expecting that. But you clear your throat and follow him inside.

The first thing you notice about Chan’s room is how large it is. It makes sense, really, that the leader of the mafia would have the largest room in his own house. You’re sure there’s a reason why it was deadbolted shut, that there’s things in here that aren’t meant for just anyone to see.

His bed is king-sized, placed in the middle of the room thoughtfully with a black duvet. The whole room matches, really, dark mahogany hardwood floors and black furniture. Even the walls, though sleek and elegant in feel, give a more gloomy yet modern feel. It’s very minimalist, you notice, no picture frames or paintings hung on the walls, though that feels very on brand for the man in front of you.

Chan motions for you to sit on his bed. You do, trying to hide your hesitation, crossing your legs as you watch the man cross the room. He stands in front of you, arms crossed and looking down at you where you sit. Mindlessly, you smooth your hands over the duvet, neatly made and cold to the touch and probably more expensive than anything you’ve ever owned.

“Yes?” He asks. He has a blank expression on his face and you curse yourself momentarily for being unable to identify what he’s thinking, but then you remember why you’re here.

“Right,” you say. “I wanted to talk.” You take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves.

He makes a noncommittal gesture with his hand, as if to say ‘so talk, then. What are you waiting for?’

“The gala,” you gulp. “That was… um, a lot, obviously. It’s just…” you try to think about where to even start and how to phrase what you had to say without offending him. As much as you want to curse him out, then and there, offending the man that is currently guaranteeing your safety probably isn’t the most wise decision. “Before we went inside, I told you about how nervous I was to see Jungwon. And you said… you promised that nothing was going to happen to me. I just can’t help but wonder, Chan. Was it a lie? Did you hand me over to them as a tactic? I know I don’t mean much to you guys, and at the end of the day you really have no reason to protect me. I just… I don’t want to think that you lied, but–”

“That’s enough.” When you meet his gaze you see how utterly pissed off he is. Shit. The words had spilled out of your mouth faster than you intended, but to be fair you had the right to know. Had he intentionally put your life in danger for the sake of getting his revenge on Jungwon? It really hadn’t come to your mind until now, but once the thought infiltrated your brain you couldn’t get it to leave. “I don’t fucking lie, Y/N,” he practically spits at you. “I thought you would know by now that I value honesty and loyalty above all else. What happened at the gala, as much as I hate to admit it, was out of my control. We should have prepared for it, but when we saw Woojin was there things got out of hand fast. The safety of one of my team members was in danger, so my priority was ensuring Minho’s safety. I hate feeling powerless. I fucking hate it, that they had the upper hand on us, but I thought that I made it perfectly clear after you got taken that they were going to pay for what they did to you.”

You nod your head, solemnly. “I’m sorry, I just–”

He shushes you sharply. You can tell he’s not finished speaking and he’s still full of irritation so you let him continue. “I don’t want to hear you say that we have no reason to protect you. That’s bullshit and we both know it. Sure, at first, the only reason you were allowed to stay with us was so we had the upper hand on Yang Jungwon. But I think you and I both realize that you’re something more to us now. Something more to me,” he says. “Jungwon is dead now. I protected you. Give me a chance to protect you again, Y/N. Let me kill Lee Heeseung and show you that you’re safe, and that you belong here. Nobody will ever hurt you again,” he ensures.

His words send a shiver down your spine. His words are so blunt and to the point, and if you weren’t listening carefully you would have almost missed the confession laced between his words. It scares you, this overprotective and controlling aspect of the man in front of you, the one who watches your every move. Chan, who makes sure you’re eating and taking care of yourself, Chan who loves too deeply, Chan who will make sure that nobody will ever lay a hand on you again.

You don’t know what to say. It’s overwhelming, and unease settles in your gut. “He’s dead,” is what you settle on, surprising even yourself.

“He is,” Chan agrees. “I’m not going to apologize for it.”

“I didn’t ask for you to,” you reply. “It’s just… does it get any easier?”

“Seeing the dead bodies?” he clarifies. You shake your head.

“Losing the people that you love,” you say just above a whisper. You know he hears you. He grimaces.

“I don’t know,” he confesses. “I haven’t… I haven’t loved in a very long time. And I don’t intend to lose anybody anytime soon.”

The two of you sit in silence for a moment. His words sit heavy in the air, swirling around before falling heavily upon your shoulders. You look at him with a grimace to match.

“I’ve been having nightmares,” you admit.

“You’ll be okay.” He reaches his hand out to guide you up, off of the bed. You take it, standing, trying not to think about how he invalidated your statement. You’re not sure what you expected from him but it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Your brain flashes to Felix, a day or two prior that comforted you in the motel bed as sobs racked through your body. Felix, who let you lay your head on his chest as he soothed you to sleep and actually made you feel like everything would be okay. You shake the thought from your head. Chan is not Felix.

With a small smile you acknowledge the man and thank him. He surprises you when he brings you in for a hug, your head resting on his shoulder. He smells vaguely of rain, you think, though you think the man is more befitting of a storm, angry and all-consuming. You push yourself weakly out of his grasp, muttering a small ‘goodnight’ as you leave the room.

You can hear the deadbolt click behind you and you let out a shuddering breath. You can’t help the way your skin pricks up at Chan’s every touch, though the man also leaves you feeling uneasy.

It’s time for you to go to the gym.

With an exasperated sigh, that’s where you end up. It’s late at night now, so you don’t expect anybody to be here when you arrive but someone is. You hear them grunting and breathing heavy before you see them, and you almost turn around and head back to your room before you change your mind.

You need to relieve your stress right now.

You never thought you would be the person to say that, let alone use working out as an outlet for your stress, but here you are. The last few weeks of your life would bring most people to the brink of madness, after all, so if going to the gym and finally becoming strong was your new coping mechanism, fuck it.

You swing open the door and try not to make eye contact. Please don’t be Felix, you think. I don’t think I can emotionally deal with that situation right now.

It seems luck is in your favor, for once, as Changbin is the one that turns around when you enter. You give him a small smile, as you are feeling pretty relieved to see him.

You don’t spare him a second glance, however, as you turn on the treadmill and start running. You wish you had a phone in moments like these, a way that you could listen to music so that you could just turn your brain off. Felix would always play music off his phone when you went to the gym together. Fuck! If your brain could stop thinking about Felix for one moment, his flowery-yet-musky smell and his beautiful, fair hair and fae-like features, things would be so much easier for you.

“Dude,” you hear. “You good?”

You almost stumble on the treadmill, slamming the stop button to turn around and glare at the man behind you.

“What?” you say, more venomous than deserved.

“You okay?” he repeats himself. A thick layer of sweat coats his skin, and you notice the ridiculous amount of weight he has set on the barbell. Makes sense. As the bodyguard of the group, he is ridiculously in shape. You must be stupid or blind to not admire the muscles he has likely put a lot of time into. “You’re like, slamming your feet into the treadmill and you’ve been sprinting for a good 15 minutes.” He’s right. You hadn’t even noticed how effortlessly you had run almost two miles.

“I’m fine,” you sigh. Neither of you seem convinced.

“You seem pissed,” he points out.

“I am pissed,” you finally agree. So much for being elusive and shoving away your feelings. It doesn’t take much for you to cave. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

“I can imagine,” he sympathizes. “What can I do to help?” His words take you by surprise, as he seems genuine in offering his help. You ponder his question as you try and catch your breath.

“Spar with me?” You ask, finally. You’re not too sure you want to go to Felix about this anymore.

“I can do that,” he replies with a smile.

After wrapping your hands up and getting ready, you take a defensive stance. Changbin looks like he’s been taken by surprise.

“What?” you question, confused by his reaction.

“Nothing,” he answers quickly. “It’s just… your form is good! I thought I would have to teach you some of the basics.”

You preen a little at the compliment. Your form is actually good? That means your hard work is paying off! “I’ve been practicing with Felix,” you admit.

A look of realization flashes over him. “Ohhhhh,” is all he says in response. “Are you ready?” You grunt in approval.

Changbin does not go easy on you, to your surprise. He immediately goes on the offense, attacking with hit after hit. He’s not using his full strength, thankfully as you probably can’t take it just yet, but the man is fast. It’s also interesting to see how different his fighting style is from Felix’s, though you notice some similarities.

Like how he plants his feet firmly after each right hook. Like how he leaves his left side open and unprotected after he bends his leg to connect his knee to your abdomen. He isn’t expecting your kick or the force behind it and it knocks him backwards. He regains his balance quickly and doesn’t completely fall, much to your chagrin, though the look of shock that crosses his features tells you all you need to know. You’re starting to get good.

“You’re observant,” he points out. “That’s really good. That will make up for your lack of strength. Fighting is equal parts brain and brawn, you know. You’re good at using your brain to your advantage.” You remember that Changbin is one of the best fighters in the house other than Felix so you don’t take his praise for granted.

“Thanks,” you say. “You’re strong, you know.”

“So I’ve been told,” he laughs. “It’s a part of the job. I haven’t always been like this, though.” You try to think about a younger Changbin, weak and scrawny and you almost laugh at the thought. There’s no way.

“Any reason why you decided to bulk up? Besides the job, obviously. It’s just, your physique isn’t something that someone would get for the sake of a job,” you smile.

“What can I say,” he shrugs. “I had people to protect. I was weak and people took advantage of that, so I became strong. I wanted to become feared, let people know not to mess with me or the people I love, and what better way to do that than to look the muscular, intimidating part?” You ponder his words, not missing it when he said he had people to protect. You wonder where they are now. You wonder how he got here, even, but you don’t ask. You think there’s a lot more to Changbin that meets the eye. “Are you done already?” He asks after a beat.

“No, I don’t think so,” you say, changing the subject. “Felix was starting to work with me on self-defense tactics to get out of a restrictive hold. Can you help me?” He quirks his brow in surprise. “Shouldn’t Felix help you, then?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I’m not here with Felix right now, I’m here with you.”

“Fair enough,” he mutters. You give him a small grin. Somehow, your stress has melted off of you in waves and you’ve almost forgotten what has gotten you so worked up in the first place. Changbin does a good job of making sure your focus is entirely on him, no distractions evident when he pulls you into a chokehold from behind. It’s not tight or malicious, but effective in its purpose as a demonstration. “This is one of the most common restrictive holds,” he explains. “Tell me, when I pull you in from behind and my hands are wrapped around your neck, what is your first instinct?”

“To try to pry your hands away from my neck,” you respond.

“Good,” he praises. “That’s what you want to avoid. Think about my body, behind you right now. What do you have open? What do I have open that you can attack?”

You mull his words over for a second, becoming hyper-aware of his body behind you. If both of his arms are around your neck, that means his torso is free. You could easily swing an elbow back and try to make contact with his ribs. Thinking about a previous lesson with Felix, you consider the more vulnerable areas of the body. The face, the neck, and the groin.

“My legs are free,” you answer. “I could swing up a leg from behind and hit you in the groin.”

“That’s right,” he says. “Anything else?”

“Your face? If I swing my head back hard enough, I should be able to smack you right in the nose. That’s enough to throw anyone off guard.”

“Are you sure you even need me to show you how it’s done?” he teases. “Let’s practice now.”

You’re not sure how long you and Changbin spend in the gym, but you feel thoroughly spent by the time you’re through. Your muscles ache, you’re dripping with sweat, and you’re out of breath so you decide to call it a night. As you leave, you have a lingering question you decide to share with Changbin.

“What do you know about knives?” you ask.

“Knives?” he questions, his brows furrowing and causing a crease to form on his forehead.

“Yeah, knives,” you respond. “Daggers, blades, stabbing–”

“I know what you’re talking about, smartass,” he interrupts. “Just… why?”

“I’ve been thinking about learning how to use a weapon,” you explain.

“Yeah, I don’t think knives or blades are a good idea, then,” he tells you.

“What? Why not?” you all but shout. “I thought I was making some serious progress!”

“I’m not denying that,” he argues. “Your skill definitely exceeds what I would consider a beginner, and that’s amazing given how little time you’ve had. It’s just that knives make for a horrible beginner weapon. For one, you need to get close and personal with your target. That’s not ideal; if you hesitate, they can easily overpower you and stab you instead. Second, stabbings are messy. You can’t half-ass shoving a knife into someone–you have to do it with as much force as you can and into a vital spot. If you’re using a knife to protect yourself, you need to do it with the intent to kill. Best case-scenario, you’ll need to stab them multiple times in order to really do some damage. Not to doubt your capabilities, but do you really think you can do that?”

You blanche. You suppose he does have a point there.

“You’re better off learning how to use a gun. Sure, if you’re really in a pinch a knife will do the trick, but you’re better off shooting and giving yourself the opportunity to run. That stamina you’ve been building up doesn’t have to be for show, you know.”

“So you’ll teach me how to use a gun?” you question, trying not to seem too hopeful.

“Me? God no,” he laughs a little too loudly. “I prefer to use these as my weapons,” he says, flexing his biceps and kissing them to further prove his point. You can’t help the laugh that escapes your chest at his actions. “If you want to talk to someone who knows guns and weapons, you’re probably better off talking to Jisung about them. He knows a little bit about everything. Plus, he definitely has the best aim. He’s your man,” he tells you, closing the door to the gym behind him. He wishes you a goodnight and leaves you in the hallway. You decide it’s too late to talk to Jisung about it now, and instead decide to grab a cup of water from the kitchen.

As you reach the cabinet to grab a glass, you see a shadowy figure that nearly has you dropping the glass and jumping out of your skin.

“Fuck!” you whisper-shout, clutching your chest. As your eyes adjust to the light switch that has just been flipped on, you’re met face-to-face with Seungmin.

“Hey,” he greets nonchalantly.

“You scared me,” you accuse. He shrugs his shoulders as if to say, ‘whatever, not my fault.’ You’re reminded of the fact that you haven’t exactly had ample opportunity to talk to the man. He’s just sort of been around.

You turn on the faucet and fill up your cup, trying to even out your breathing.

“He’s going to be upset, you know,” he says. He sips on his own cup of water, staring at the floor and for a second you’re sure you misheard. Did he actually just speak to you?

“Who?” you question.

“Felix,” he answers without missing a beat, like it’s obvious.

“What? Why would Felix be mad?” The stress and anxiety has already come back, bubbling inside your chest.

“You went to the gym without him,” he says. “With someone else, actually.” Confusion spreads across your features. So… not only does he know that you were just at the gym with Changbin, but he’s also aware of the fact that you’ve been practicing with Felix? How does he know so much!? You scoff and turn around, water in hand as you pay him no mind.

“Felix can be quite jealous,” he adds as you leave the room. You roll your eyes.

The world seems to be plotting your demise, you think. Of course you run into Felix on your way back to your room, spilling your water on him in the process.

“Shit,” you cry, face flushing up in the process. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine,” he says. “No worries.” You don’t look at him and push past politely, trying to open your bedroom door when he calls after you.

“You went to the gym,” he says. It’s not a question, merely a statement that he has observed.

“I did,” you confirm. You think about Seungmin’s words and consider leaving it at that, but you decide to try to confirm his statement. “Changbin was just helping me spar.”

You hide a smirk when you notice Felix freeze. “You went… with Changbin?” he asks, distaste laced in his voice.

“Yes,” you say, deciding to push him further. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” he says, feigning a smile. “I’ll take it you’re feeling better, then?”

Right. You had told him that you were still feeling ill, so it probably comes across as rude to turn around and immediately go with someone else.

“I tried to rest,” you tell him. “Sorry. I was feeling antsy and didn’t want to bother you. Changbin just happened to be there.” You don’t want to tell him that you really didn’t want to spar because the thought of close proximity to Felix made your heart flutter against your better judgment.

“I see,” he nods his head in affirmation. “Next time, feel free to come and get me. You know where my room is, right?” You realize you don’t know where his room is, and he must recognize your hesitation. “Look–I’m three doors down. Do you see that white door on the right side of the hall? That’s me, so next time make sure you come and get me, okay?” You confirm that you will and you close your door, slumping up against it as it shuts.

He did get jealous. Maybe Seungmin is more observant than you had realized.

You fall asleep quite fast after your shower. That ugly feeling you worked so hard to work off earlier remains stagnant in your gut but you do a good job of ignoring it. You sleep through the night, body sore but full of food and content with the progress you’ve been making. You don’t have any nightmares, though your sleep is interrupted in the morning by a rapping on the door.

It’s daytime by now, evident by the light shining through your windows but you still groan nonetheless, swinging your legs over the bed and letting your body carry you to the door. Swinging it open, you’re surprised to see Jisung standing on the other end of the door. Wearing a blue and brown striped sweater with large, thick-rimmed glasses, he looks very domestic which catches you off guard.

“Morning,” he says with a smile.

“Morning…?” you answer back, stretching into a yawn and rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“I came to get you for breakfast,” he says. “Chan sent me.”

“Of course, Chan sent you,” you say with a sigh. “Give me one moment.” You close the door behind you, getting ready by changing into more presentable clothes and washing your face. You brush your hair back and suppress a yawn, thinking that coffee might do you some good. Opening the door again, you see that Jisung has waited for you.

Walking to the kitchen together, you decide to talk to the man. “I have been meaning to ask you something,” you tell him.

“Oh?” he asks, eyes shooting open and mouth widening into a small ‘o’ shape. He looks reminiscent of a chipmunk and it’s quite endearing–you find yourself wanting to run your fingers through the curly locks on his head that further drives the image.

“Yes, Changbin was telling me that you might be able to show me how to use a gun?” you ask, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Absolutely,” he says. You try not to look too surprised–that’s it? He’s not going to ask why or what for? “Want to stop by my room after breakfast?”

“It might be closer to lunch, but that would be great!” you tell him. You actually have a busy morning planned out: a meeting with Hyunjin to pick out a new book, and training with Felix. You feel hopeful now, though, that on top of all this strength and stamina you’ve been building up, you won’t be so defenseless after all.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Your plans get foiled pretty quickly, as Felix tells you he can’t help you train today. He’s getting sent out with Hyunjin and Seungmin for a mission, one that he can’t fully disclose to him. You don’t give him any signal that you’re slightly relieved, unsure how to deal with all the tension that’s been building up.

But that also means that you won’t get a chance to visit Hyunjin for your book. So, Jisung it is. After breakfast he’s kind enough to lead you to his room, seeing as you weren’t exactly sure where it was anyway.

You’re not super surprised to see that his room is messy, as you sort of get that vibe from him that it would be. Piles of clothes are strewn about, some water bottles and dishes piled on his bedside table. He opens up a large wooden armoire with no clothes in it, instead filled with a large metal safe. He takes a moment to make sure you aren’t looking before inputting a code, the metal door whirring and swinging open.

Guns. Lots of them, though you probably couldn’t identify which kinds there are, there are many of varying lengths and sizes. Some look more expensive while others are covered in grime and rust.

You sit and watch as Jisung explains the very basics of even using a gun, including how to load it, how to hold it, and what not to do with it. He tells you to always act like a gun is loaded, even if you know it isn’t; you should also never aim it at someone unless you’re doing so with the intent to shoot at them. He talks for a bit about basic shooting techniques, as well as how to handle the recoil of a gun after shooting it with a good-enough stance. You honestly feel like your head is about to explode from this overload of information but you’re grateful for it nonetheless; you definitely feel like you know more than enough about how to shoot after your conversation with him.

“You’re smart,” you tell him. “You know so much about guns. That’s awesome.”

He blinks at you owlishly. “I guess so! I wouldn’t call myself smart. I’m useful. Minho’s always been the smart one,” he laughs. “When you have nothing good going for ya, you kind of have to find a way to the top. Make yourself useful somehow. I’m not book-smart, so this? This is what I’m good at. It’s all I’m good at.” The statement settles uneasily in your stomach. This is all he thinks he’s good for? Nobody has ever told him otherwise? That can’t be right. That’s probably how he ended up here and your heart squeezes, but before you can pry further or refute his claims, he’s speaking again. “So, did I do a good job? You think you sort of understand what you’re working with now?”

“I’m more of a hands-on learner,” you explain to him. “Is there any way I can practice shooting?”

“Oh yeah, for sure!” Jisung exclaims. The two of you walk outside and you see the makeshift shooting range he has set up. He sets up a stack of cans on a table and guides you to stand about twenty feet back.

He presses the gun into your hands, cold and foreign to you even though you just sat through his entire demonstration. You have half the mind to think he’s far too trusting of you, but you know realistically he could disarm you faster than you have the mind to aim and pull the trigger at him.

He walks through the basics with you again, showing you exactly how to stand and posture yourself. He makes you unload and reload the gun a few times as well, that way you’re comfortable and familiar with the mechanics of it.

You miss the first few times. Maybe the first twenty times you shoot. But Jisung is surprisingly a really good teacher–constantly correcting you or giving you helpful feedback. The first time you hit a metal can, you practically shriek with joy.

You hang out with Jisung for a few hours. By the end of it, your ears are ringing despite the earplugs he encouraged you to wear, and your arms are worse for wear after holding the weapon.

You take a nap at about 4pm but wake up in time for dinner. You’re hungry due to the exertion of the day and you decide to indulge yourself at dinner, eating more than your share. If Chan notices he doesn’t say anything.

That night you hear when Seungmin and Hyunjin return from their mission. You listen for the low timbre of Felix’s voice but you don’t hear it. You want to see him, you decide, only for your peace of mind. You come up with the excuse of wanting to train despite it being a bit late and your body still sore from your earlier activities, but your body carries you down the hall to the white door only three doors down. Your knuckles wrap softly against the wood and you shift nervously from side to side waiting for his answer.

When Felix opens the door you find yourself blinking and ogling. His hair is sweaty against his skin, pulled up into a messy half-up half-down ponytail. He dons a white tank top, showing off his beautifully well-built arms.

“Y/N?” he questions. He leans against the doorframe, tilting his head to the side to look at you. “What’s up?”

“I… uh, I was wondering if you wanted to train? Me? Train with me?” you say, stumbling over your words. He cracks a small grin.

“I’m not feeling the best at the moment and I was hoping I could rest for a bit, if that’s okay. Rain check our rain check?” You nod, looking him up and down before you realize something–he’s clutching his side.

Felix moves his body slightly out of sight so that you can’t see but you push into his room. He doesn’t stop you.

“Felix, what’s wrong? Show me,” you demand. Sighing in defeat, he lifts his hand away from the spot on his side. You notice the blood seeping through the fabric, staining his hand when he pulls it away. “Felix, what the fuck? Is that your blood?”

“Don’t freak out… but I may or may not have gotten stabbed.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: next mini-member chapter this wednesday, and it's one of my favorite ones so far hehe (sorry about the cliffhanger)

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

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pome-seed · 2 months ago

Text

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 15

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Having grown too comfortable, you're thrown through a loop when you're uprooted again. Someone is following you. Bucky, refusing to take chances, packs up what little you both have and leads you into the unknown.

Warnings: Paranoia. Fear. Men being too nice (creepy).

Authors Note: Hi!! Warning, Romanian in this chapter is google translated level. I apologize for any and all inaccuracies. Translations are in italics!

ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

Comfortability.

You grew up being told to never accept comfortability. It was the human crutch. It was the silent weakness of all people.

Your family always told you to explore your options, to never settle. Your professors and mentors always told you to reach and reach for the impossible. To never, ever get comfortable. Because one day, you blink and everything’s changed, but you’re stuck.

Because getting comfortable means accepting what you have, and settling for nothing to ever get better.

You felt it before you saw him.

A balding man with a sunken face watched you from across the street as you walked towards the news stand.

At first you wondered if it was just an average man, watching you because he found you attractive. But then he glanced down at his phone, then to a man further up the street.

You paused, yoursteps slowing. You were just paranoid.

You had to be.

Right?

You glanced at the man up ahead from the corner of your eye. He raised his phone, as if to snap a picture of you.

You turned on your heel and started walking back to the inn at a pace you hoped looked natural. The paranoia began to eat at you as panic swelled in your chest. It was happening, wasn’t it?

They’d found you.

It was your worst nightmare come true. Every day since waking up in that small room, surrounded by fragile safety, you feared they would come. You knew one day they would.

You just didn’t think it would be so soon, after only a few weeks.

You’d spent every waking moment checking the locks, looking over your shoulder, listening for footsteps outside. You’d laid awake at night, staring at the cracks in the ceiling as you listened to Bucky’s pen scribble against paper.

You always made sure to check he was still there, propped against his makeshift bed of blankets beside the door, before going to bed. You knew he would be. You knew he’d be awake too. Waiting. Listening.

Afraid. But never showing it.

You tried to control your breathing, tried to steady your shaking hands as you pulled your room key from your pocket. You glanced back over your shoulders jerkily as you shouldered into the room.

You slammed the door shut behind you and leaned back, your breaths coming in rapid succession. The loud sound made Bucky stiffen from his place on the bed as he looked up at you.

“Someone was watching me- two men.” You blurted. “I don’t know if it was them- but they were watching me. I think they were taking pictures-”

Bucky was on his feet before you could finish your sentence. He yanked his bag up off the table and swiped his journal off the bed. He moved, shoving things in his bag. “Grab your things.”

“I-I don’t have anything-”

“Then let’s go.” He moved to the back of the room and shoved open the window. You gaped, stumbling blindly after him. He scanned the back pathway, then climbed out. He held his hands out to stabilise you as you followed him.

You didn't think you would ever get used to how quickly your security seemed to crumble around you.

The escape Bucky had planned for their imminent discovery was fruit. Fruit and vegetables.

Living in the countryside of Romania, surrounded by acres and acres of farms, meant there was near constant transport to the city. Transport that you didn’t need ID for. Transport almost no one thought of looking for.

“How in the hell are we going to convince them to let us on their truck?” You panted, hunched against a tree. Bucky stood a few feet ahead, scoping out a few men loading up a truck near the edge of the field.

“We could sneak onto it.”

“Bucky- it’s refrigerated.” You huffed, moving to stand next to him. “How much money do we have?”

Bucky slung his backpack around his chest and dug through the front pocket. “747 Lei.” He muttered, counting it slowly.

“Shit…” You swallowed around your dry throat. You were still getting used to calculating the new currency, but you gathered that 747 Lei came out to around $172 USD. You desperately wished you’d packed a go bag with water or something. “Okay- we just have to beg, I guess.”

“And if they say no?” Bucky glanced at you.

“We’ll find another truck. Truckers are like- the main people that pick up hitchhikers.”

“They’re also the main people that murder them, aren't they?” Bucky muttered dryly.

“Well- we don’t have any other option. I mean, do we?” You turned to him. “Tell me we have another option, and let’s do that. Otherwise I’ll have to flirt with truckers to get us a ride.”

Bucky’s nose crinkled at your blunt words. He looked off to the side, trying to think of any other option you had that wasn’t stealing a car. And even so, there were no cars around except reefers. “We don’t have any other plans.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together in acceptance. “Okay. Put your bag on- and your nice face. The nicest one you can.”

He stared at you blankly.

“Just- try.”

The men loading up the truck were cursing at one another in Romanian as they approached. They set down a large crate and one of them- the shorter one- gestured dramatically at his lower back. The taller- and younger- one rolled his eyes.

Bucky followed from a few feet away- as instructed. You turned back to him and whispered the practiced words back to him. Bucky corrected some of your pronunciation, then told you you were good to go. You turned your back to him and tugged your shirt down a little to accentuate your cleavage. You couldn’t help the dirty feeling that trickled down your spine as you did so.

“Scuzați-mă?” You stepped around the truck and called out from the foot of the ramp. Excuse me?

The older man was actively slapping the younger over the head when he peaked around to see you. His irritated expression melted into something funny. The younger man turned around to see you.

The elder said something in Romanian you didn’t understand. “Ah- Bună… mă întrebam dacă… eu și un prieten am putea… face o plimbare…” you paused, cringing at your own pronunciation. “...cu camionul tău?”

Hi, I was wondering if a friend and I could hitch a ride in your truck?

The men stared at you for a moment, then looked at eachother. The younger looked like he was trying not to crack a smile at your pronunciation.

“Ai nevoie de o plimbare, scumpo?” The elder asked, walking closer to the edge of the truck.

You blinked, then glanced back to where Bucky stood around the corner of the truck. “Do you need a ride, sweetie?” Bucky muttered to you, translating.

You looked back at them with a plastered smile. “Ah, da!”

“Ei bine,” the elder said, his voice dipping in tone, “aproape am terminat încărcarea. De ce nu te urci în față și ne aștepți.” You tried not to look stupid. “Cum e sunetul ăsta, dragă?”

You cringed as you looked back to Bucky helplessly. He bit back an irritated sigh. “Well, we're almost done loading up. Why don't you climb in the front and wait for us. How's that sound, darling?” He translated, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

You blinked and looked back at the older man. Before you could say anything else, the younger stepped forward, smiling. “Pentru ce se ascunde prietenul tău? Ieși.”

What is your friend hiding for? Come out.

You blinked back to Bucky for a translation, but instead he just slowly stepped around the corner into the line of sight.

Your ‘nice face’ advice was entirely thrown out the window as he came to stand beside you, his jaw locked with glare directed at the men.

You could see the moment they met eyes, the moment the men took in Bucky. With his hulking form and looming height, snarled nose and curled fists. “Nu, stai-” The elder started. No, wait.

“Vă rog! Stai, Vă rog!” You folded your hands together in a pleading motion, stepping closer. Please! Wait, please!

“Te luăm noi, dragă, nu el..” The younger man pointed between the pair. We’ll take you, honey. Not him.

You glanced frantically between them and Bucky. Bucky stayed silent, staring down the boy who’d just spoken. “Bucky, what’s he saying? Bucky!” Your stomach twisted painfully with anxiety. You didn’t have much time.

If there was someone following you, they could be getting closer.

“They’re saying they’ll only take you.” He told you, though for some reason you didn’t think his sour behavior was over that. Your gut sank.

“Vă rog, domnule, vă voi plăti.” You turned back to the other two and stepped closer to the ramp. “Vă rog.” You turned to Bucky and started yanking open his backpack. “Avem bani.”

Please sir, I’ll pay you. We have money.

The elder watched you dig out a fist full of cash. He bit his cracked lip and glanced between you and Bucky. “Vă rog,” you pleaded. You needed this to work. You needed to gain distance. You needed to get out.

Please.

He glanced back at his partner. The younger man stepped up to him and whispered quietly over his shoulder. You glanced back at Bucky, but he kept his eyes on the men. After a long moment that made you start to fear you would have to find another truck, one of the men spoke.

“Amenda.” The elder grumbled.

“A-Am…” you glanced at Bucky.

“They’ll do it.” He told you.

You lit up with relief, your fists shaking at the men in gratitude. “Multumesc!” You grinned, walking up the ramp to hand the men half of the cash in yourfists. Thank you. “The rest after,” you gestured with your hands. The short man nodded, taking the money from you with a brush against your fingers.

“Puteți sta în față în timp ce terminăm încărcarea.” The younger said, stepping up. You blinked at him in confusion, but before you could turn back to Bucky, he said; “Wait in truck.” The boy smiled when you nodded in understanding. You turned and he set a hand on your lower back to guide you down the unsteady ramp.

You can stay up front while we finish loading.

You took one large step to get out of range of the man's hand. His touch fell away when you came to stand by Bucky- who hadn’t moved an inch since stepping out. You zipped up his backpack and slowly started pushing him towards the front of the truck. “Start walking before you scare them out of the deal, please.”

He huffed quietly and yanked open the truck door. The interior was much of what you’d expect. There were two seats and a little space behind them with a dingy old bed. In the foot of the passenger seat was a pile of soda cans and snack packaging. You climbed in first, taking a seat on the squeaky bed.

When Bucky joined you, you couldn’t help but nudge him in the side. “What was that? That was the complete opposite of nice.”

He glanced at you, his brows furrowed. “They’re weird.”

You blanched, quickly leaning forward to confirm they weren't nearby. “Bucky- they don’t have to be giving us a ride.” You whispered.

“We can find another ride.”

“We don’t know if there were people following us or not. We can’t wait around.” You urged. “I don’t care if they said weird stuff about me, Bucky, really. It’s not that uncommon.” You sighed, watching his gaze soften. “As long as they get us somewhere we aren't being followed, I don’t care. A few creepy comments are a lot better than whatever those people would do to me.”

Bucky huffed, staring down at his hands. He knew it was true. He knew that whatever happened out in the free world, none of it could compare to what Hydra was capable of. But still, it disgusted him to listen to those men talk- and look at you like that.

He’d experienced enough disgusting behavior for several lifetimes.

“Please, Bucky.”

When your eyes met, he felt himself relax slightly. He nodded. “Okay.”

The whole four hour drive was insufferably awkward. Bucky told you he would be civil, but he wasn’t exactly peppy.

When the man first joined you, he tried to get you to sit with him up front. Bucky slid an arm over your lap to stop you from getting up, then replied in Romanian to say you were just fine back there. You just leaned back into your seat and let Bucky take the lead. The driver, however, wasn’t so easy to sway.

He was chatty, and often looked back over his shoulder at the pair of you. Bucky stopped translating for you at some point, and just started responding in dry snippets. You didn’t worry about asking what was happening, because honestly you didn’t want to stress about Bucky.

You knew he was nervous. You knew he wasn’t great at playing positive. You knew that whatever this was, it was better to distract him instead of letting him worry about what could possibly be behind you both.

They took stops often for the driver to use the bathroom and buy snacks. You just stayed in the truck together, wanting to be seen as little as possible.

When they finally stopped on the edge of Bucharest, near the factories, Bucky and you paid the man the rest of the money and got out. The elder man said something in a sing-songy voice as you closed the door. Bucky tensed, rolled his eyes, then gestured for you to step away from the truck.

“What did-”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I definitely do, now.”

“No.”

“Buck-”

“No.”

You sighed in exasperation, accepting it.

You could tell Bucky was on edge. Being in public with no means of transportation now, it had him on high alert.

You could see the way he tightened up, gaze flickering across the street and through the trees. He was different the closer you both got to higher populated areas. He was quiet. He kept his head down. He curled in on himself, as if trying to disappear.

And he almost did.

You didn’t comment on it. You knew it was a defence mechanism. It’s what he knew best. Make yourself invisible. You almost wished you were as good at it as he was.

You knew how to feel invisible. But you didn’t know how to make yourself fall into the background, hidden in a crowd. You didn’t know how to hide the fact that you couldn’t read or speak Romanian. You didn’t know how to pretend like you were just anyone else.

Because in all reality, you were a fish out of water.

You weren’t supposed to be there.

But sadly, you were coming to learn that almost nothing was in your control.

A/N: Hi! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It's not as emotionally painful as the others, haha! Also, I'd like to say that if any truckers are reading, I'm sorry for making you look so creepy...That's just my experience with the truckers that talk to me in parking lots....

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05 @cupids-mf-arrow @sharkylalala @littlesuniee @meineguete @hawkinsavclub1983 @theconsultingdoctor10 @dollface-xoxo

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mphoenix-7 · 1 year ago

Text

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 6: The Cabin: Day 2

Summary: You suffer through yet another day in hell with Soap. Near the end though, you also come to learn that he is also human.

Word Count: 5,830

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, angst, strong language, arguing, suggestive language, suggestive scenes, mentions of trauma, PTSD, slight nudity

A/N: I added almost 1,000 more words while editing. Story is about to get realllyyyy good! Enjoy :)

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Bitter Allies • Part 6

You wake up the next morning with sunlight pouring through the windows. The air inside the cabin is still a little chilly, but the inside of the liner Soap gave you last night is now too warm. You stretch your arms, pushing the liner down in the process, and look over to Soap's cot. It's already empty and neatly remade.

You're not sure what time it is, but after last night, you're sure you've slept in more than you normally would. Slowly sitting up, you rub your face a bit, thoughts going to yesterday. You still couldn't believe Soap had apologized to you and that he'd given you his liner. It didn't seem real. You would have thought it was all a dream if it hadn't been for you waking up in said liner.

You wonder if things will be different today or if it'll be like nothing happened.

Not bothering to get dressed just yet until you know exactly where Soap is, you head to the kitchen. He's not in there. The pot and your plates from last night are still sitting in the same spots, and you make a note to yourself to wash them later.

The next place you check is outside by the lake. Soap might have just been on the porch or out by the water. You step outside, wrapping your arms around you slightly, and walk down the two steps. Looking around though, you still don't see him anywhere. The fear that he's left again begins to simmer in the pit of your stomach, but he could just be in the bathroom. You're not going to go check there though.

Instead you just wait outside for a few minutes to see if he'll come out of the outhouse and take a moment to enjoy the morning air. It's so beautiful outside, and you definitely wouldn't mind going for a walk later. You also wouldn't mind taking a bath today. Your skin feels sticky with sweat from the liner.

After a moment, with Soap still not showing his face, you decide that he must have went for a walk or a morning run. So much for your rules.

Sighing, you head back into the cabin. As long as Soap was going to be gone, you figured you might as well take that opportunity to get dressed, do the dishes, and start breakfast. You would have bathed too, but you weren't going to risk Soap coming back while you were out there.

Back inside, you make your way to the bedroom and push the door open. Instantly though, you're regretting it. You are one step into the room before you instantly freeze. Your eyes are wide, your cheeks are burning, and your jaw drops as you're met with a butt naked Soap MacTavish.

"States!" He shouts in surprise, his gaze having snapped over to yours the second he hears you push the door open. He reacts instantly, using the underwear he was about to slip on to cover his front and then frantically grabbing more of his laid out clothes to do a better job. "What the fuck?! Get out!"

His voice snaps you out of your state of shock, and you're quickly trying to apology, run away, and shut the door all at the same time.

"I-I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" You babble, trying to back up and hitting your back on the doorframe in the process. You quickly turn and leave, slamming the door shut as Soap continues to shout at you.

"What the fuck! What happened to knocking!" He shouts through the door, as you start to pace in the kitchen, hands on your burning cheeks.

"I don't know! I didn't think you were here!!" You shout back at him, embarrassed beyond belief. Soap had been quick to cover his junk up, but you'd still caught a glimpse of it. You were going to be scarred for life.

"I shut the fucking door! How the hell did you not know I was here?!" He continues. He sort of had a point there. You had left the door open originally.

"I just thought it shut by itself! I don't fucking know! The door doesn't exactly stay wide open!" You just weren't thinking. You thought he was gone. Surely you would have heard him if he came back inside. The front door wasn't exactly quiet when you opened or shut it, and you'd only been outside for maybe a minute.

"Steaming Jesus! If the door is shut, you knock!" Soap swings the door open and steps out, but you can't look at him even if he's fully dressed now.

"I get it! Noted!" You yell back at him. "It's not like I did it on purpose! I'd never want to see that in a million years! And where were you exactly? I didn't see you anywhere this morning, and I didn't hear you come back! I figured you just left again!"

"I got up early and went for a run! Some of us are trying to keep with our normal schedules!"

"Don't call me lazy!"

"I'm not calling you lazy!"

"You're implying it! But that's not the point! The point is you left without telling me!" You finally bring yourself to look at him. His face is red, and his eyes are burning with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

"You were asleep! What, you wanted me to wake you up and then deal with your pissy ass cause I interrupted your beauty sleep? Plus last night, if I remember correctly, you said I only had to tell you if it was for more than an hour. I was gone for thirty minutes! Forty at most!"

"Yes! You should have woken me up! A heads up would have been nice! I didn't know how long you'd been gone or when you'd be back. I thought you were still gone when I came in! I didn't hear you come back!"

"That sounds like it's your problem then! I came through the loudest fucking door! I saw you in the back, you should have heard me!"

"You could have said hi? Done something to make sure I was aware that you were back instead of just assuming I knew!"

"See there ya go again! Pushin' the blame onto someone else! No one is as fucking perfect as you, aye?"

"That's not what I'm doing! You're trying to blame all of this on me! I'm just saying there are things you could have done too!"

"Like left the door open? That way you couldn't be blamed for opening it cause it was already open?"

There was no winning with him. He'd find any way to twist your words and make it seem like you were being the unreasonable one. Rolling your eyes, you decide you've had enough. It seemed yesterday changed anything.

"You want to act like child then fine! Fucking act like a child! I don't know how the task force even deals with you."

You try to leave. You want to go into the bedroom, get dressed, and then leave for a bit to cool off. The second you try to pass Soap though, grabs your arm and forces you back against the wall. Your jaw is tight as he pins you. He's holding your wrist tightly, keeping it pressed firmly against the wall above your head. Your hand that's not being pinned quickly presses into his chest in an attempt to keep some distance.

"My task force was fucking perfect until you came along." He says to you in a deep and dangerous voice. "And then Price just had to bring in one more. He just had to bring you in. Our name doesn't even make sense now. One-four-one. Suppose to only have us four. Not five." He seethes. "We don't need you on our team. Not some fucking bonnie lass from the States, yet here you are."

You keep eye contact with him the whole time. Even in the position he had you in, you don't feel like you're in danger. He's holding your wrist tightly, but he's not excessively squeezing it or cutting off circulation. You're not going to have bruises. And he is letting you push him back. His chest is pressed against your hand, but he's not trying to crowd you. Applying more pressure to his chest makes him back off slightly.

Still his eyes are dangerous as they bore into your own. They’re filled with disdain as he towers over you, dominating the space between you. You’re trying to match his gaze, fight back against him and not let him win.

Then, for some messed up reason, you think about this morning and seeing Soap naked. You’re shocked as the image enters your mind, and you’re cheeks start to get rosy. You know your glare is slipping as you become flustered, and you need to break away now before Soap can figure out what you’re thinking about. His gaze is already turning slightly confused as he begins to notice the shift in your behavior.

"Why do you hate me, Soap?" You blurt. It’s the first thing that comes to mind to ask him.

Your question successfully throws him off. You swear you see his eyes soften for just a moment when you ask him that, but it's hard to tell with your mind racing. He's silent for a moment, just glaring back at you. The tension between you is palpable, his breath warm against your face, his proximity sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.

Finally, he drops your wrist and takes a step back. "I don't need to justify my reasons." He scowls. "I'm going to the lake. Just fucking learn how to knock."

You watch him leave and slam the door, massaging your wrist slightly as you do. Now that he’s gone, you can feel your heart racing in your chest, the pace matching the phantom thumps still felt in your finger tips that’d been pressed to his chest.

You shake your head, taking a deep breath to calm your pulse. The first time you run into him today, and you manage to blow up at each other. It shouldn't surprise you really, but you truly had hoped things would be different this morning after last night.

You slowly make your way to the window and peek outside. Soap is over by the lake, sitting against a tree by the waters edge. He’s running his hand through his hair and then burying his face in both hands, looking like he’s trying to calm himself down. It doesn’t look as though he’s going to be leaving anytime soon.

When he doesn't get up, you go into the bedroom and shut the door softly behind you. Soap's clothes he'd taken off this morning were on the floor. You kick them more over to his side of the room and then go to get changed yourself.

As you strip out of your pajamas, the cool air brushes against your skin, a stark contrast to the lingering warmth from Soap’s body when he had pinned you against the wall. Your cheeks start to flush again, and you feel a strange mix of emotions that you can’t quite decipher.

You pull on a fresh set of clothes, but your mind keeps drifting back to the way Soap’s eyes had locked onto yours, the way his chest had felt under your palm. There was something there, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but it left you feeling unsettled and oddly warm.

Once you’re dressed, you sit on the edge of the bed, trying to make sense of your feelings. The intensity of the encounter lingers, a confusing blend of anger, frustration, and something else you can’t quite name. Soap has never made you feel this way before. You’ve never left an argument with him feeling his… odd. And you sure as hell have never imaged him naked.

You sigh and get up, moving into the kitchen. You hope making something to eat will take your mind off everything.

You glance towards the window again, catching another glimpse of Soap by the lake. Despite the distance, you can almost feel the tension that still hangs between you, a thread pulled taut, waiting to snap or be cut. You don’t understand it, but you can’t deny it’s there.

Looking away from him, you focus on breakfast. Your plate was still dirty from last, so you were forced to make food that didn't necessarily require a plate. You'd planned on cleaning it before you started breakfast, but Soap being outside deterred you from that. You ended up just putting peanut butter on a slice of bread and drinking some water.

You ate slowly, making a list of things you wanted to get done today. The plates needed to be cleaned, you wanted to take a bath, and more fire wood needed to be collected. Unfortunately all those things required being outside, right where Soap was.

After what felt like an hour of waiting around, waiting for Soap to move on and go somewhere else, he’s still sitting by the water's edge. You eventually got impatient and decided to just get it over with. Soap had proven yesterday he could sulk for hours and hours, and you didn't want to wait around all day for him to stop. Tension or not be damned.

Gathering up the plates, utensils, and the pot you used last night, you step outside and make your way to the water's edge. However, you'd left Soap's dishes inside. If he was going to treat you the way he currently was, you saw no reason to do his dishes for him.

You eye Soap as you approach the lake. He'd decided to sit a few feet away from the only spot where you had easy access to the water. As you get closer, he looks over to you, a very familiar scowl on his face. The second his gaze turns to you, you stare straight ahead, trying to pretend he simply isn't there. Your skin prickles though, a constant reminder he’s there.

You kneel at the water's edge and get to work on rinsing off the food from your plate. Of course this wasn't all you were planning on doing to clean everything. You would boil water and disinfect everything once all the scraps were rinsed off.

"You're joking right?" Soap comments from where he sits. He'd been watching you rinse the plates off, arms crossed over his chest.

"Don't talk to me." You warn, not in the mood right now to get into something else with him. To make that still lingering tension build back up again.

Soap huffs at you. "You better not be cleaning my stuff." You hear him move a bit to try and get a better look at all the things you'd brought to clean.

"Relax, I left all your shit in the cabin. Wouldn't dream of ever doing anything nice for you."

"Well good. I don't think contaminating the plate and utensils I use to eat is doing anything nice for me." He settles back against the tree, but you can still feel him watching you. His gaze makes your skin boil.

"I know how to properly clean dishes." You grumble, setting the plate aside and moving on to the pot. "I'm going to boil water once I get all the food washed off. Is that fine with you?"

"I don't fucking care what you do. Make yourself sick, I don't give a shite."

"Ok great, so stop talking to me." You snap, trying to scrub off some of the residue on the side of the pan with your nail. You hadn't packed any sponges or other cleaning supplies, and Price didn't provide them.

Soap rolls his eyes as you snap at him. “Away an bail yer heid.” You hear him grumble, not understanding his Scottish drawl, but you know he’s most likely said something insulting.

Glancing over your shoulder, you watch as he gets up. He was heading back to the cabin, which you were fine with for now. It allowed your shoulders to relax and let you finish your cleaning in peace.

Once you were done, you filled the cooking pot with water and carried it back to the cabin to boil it. The door to the bedroom was shut, telling you Soap was most likely in there. Unless he was being childish and shut it before leaving the cabin. All to just make you knock for no reason.

After the water boils, and you use it to finish sterilizing your dishes, you want to do the next thing on your little to-do list. Bathe. Of course you need to go into the bedroom briefly to get things to bathe with.

Standing outside the door for a long moment, you try to psych yourself up a bit before tapping softly on the wood. Your heart is pounding in anticipation like you’re getting ready to enter a war zone.

"You have pants on in there?" You ask, crossing your arms as you wait for his response.

"She does learn!" You hear Soap's muffled voice say through the door.

You roll your eyes and repeat your question, wanting an answer before you walked in and scarred yourself again. "Do you have fucking clothes on or not?"

"Of course! Otherwise I would've said 'give me a second' or 'hang on, still getting dressed' now wouldn't I?"

You growl under breath and push the door open, flipping Soap off as you walk in. He's on his cot, back against the wall, and one of those black journals he brought opened and propped against his knees. You can't see its contents, but you don't really care to look.

"Oh that's very ladylike." He scolds, turning back to looking at his book.

"You're no gentleman yourself." You throw back, pulling open your drawer to get your towel and shampoo out. "I'm going to the lake to bathe. I swear to God if I catch you looking at me-"

"Quit your whining. I'm not some pervert. I don't try to go looking for people when they're naked, unlike some people who enter a shared bedroom without-"

"Don't even finish that sentence! I didn't want to see you naked! I wish we had bleach cause I would have poured some into my eyes by now." You finish gathering what you need and head for the door. "Do not come outside. I am dead serious. I will drown you if I see you looking." You threaten before shutting the door.

"Don't flatter yourself! No one wants to see you naked!" He shouts as you leave the cabin.

You set your towel down in some grass to keep it from getting dirty and then look around one last time. Mostly just back to the cabin to make sure Soap wasn't looking through the windows or on the porch, but also the surrounding area. It felt very unnatural to be getting naked outside. As much as it bothered you Soap was around, you feared someone else might be too.

Stripping down quickly, you leave your clothes in a pile and rush into the water. You would like to have folded them nicely, but you just wanted to get into the water and feel little more covered up again.

The water was cold. Despite the sun being out and shining on its surface, it was still a lake. The first few minutes of bathing is very tense. You keep watching the cabin, fearing Soap is going to come out, or you’re going to see his face in one of the windows, but there is no sign of him. After a while, you start to relax. You wash your hair, the scent of your shampoo providing a little feeling of home. It's when you're scrubbing your body with your loofa that the peace is disrupted.

"Oi, States!" Soap's voice has you quickly sinking into the water and covering your chest. He's walking across the yard (if you could call it that) with his eyes trained on the ground. "Hey, there's-"

"What did I tell you?! I'm fucking naked, go away!" You shout at him as he just keeps getting closer.

"I'm not even looking at you!" He exclaims, and it's true. He's not looking at you. His eyes as on the ground, looking off to the side, or covering the side of his vision the entire time.

"I don't care! I don't want you here! Go!" You keep shouting.

"Fucking listen! There's a storm coming. You need to get out, and we need to get some wood and make sure the cabin doors are blocked. If it gets windy it's going to blow those doors open."

You glare at him, staying where you are in the water. There was a bright blue sky above you, birds were singing, and it was warm. It did not look like it was going to storm out. You thought he was just making stuff up to interrupt your bath time.

"Yeah right." You roll your eyes.

"States, I'm telling you, get your ass out of the there now. There's pitch black storm cloud coming from that way," he motions off behind the cabin, gaze turning upward while his hand is busy. "We probably only have about fifteen minutes before it hits us."

"Are you serious? Cause if you're not-"

"Of course I'm bloody fucking serious! You think I'd be out here, risking seeing your ugly naked ass, if I wasn't?!" He shouts. "Come on! Move your ass!" He starts to walk towards you, his eyes still on the ground.

"Soap I swear if you come in this- what are you doing? Hey!"

He'd grabbed your clothes and was walking back to the cabin. "Come on, States! I don't have time for this! Get out of the water!" He shouts over his shoulder at you.

You're quickly scrambling to get out of the water and get your clothes back. He was kind enough to leave your towel behind, and you grab that and wrap it around your body as you stumble after him.

"You fucking jerk! Give me my clothes!" You catch up to him and grab a handful of the back of his shirt, yanking it hard to make him stop.

He jerks back slightly and turns to you, his eyes automatically drifting down your figure. "Oh good, you're wearing a towel." He shoves the lump of clothes at you, almost making you drop said towel in the process. You'd only been using one hand to keep it wrapped around your body. "Go inside, get dressed, and come help me get wood." He instructs you, brushing past you to head towards the trees.

You stare at him in utter shock and confusion. At this point you knew he wasn't joking. For whatever reason, he thought there was a storm coming. Still, you would have gotten out if he just went away. He didn't have to steal your clothes to make you come out.

You head to the cabin, get dressed, and try to dry and comb your hair the best you could. Before you go out back to help Soap gather wood like he wanted, you peak out the front door, looking for these pitch black storm clouds he'd been so stressed about. You didn't see any, and there were too many trees in the way to see far off into the distance. Frowning to yourself, you go out to look for him.

Soap is gather tons of sticks when you find him. He even managed to find a small log or two. He was on his way back by the time you came outside.

"Great, you finally decided to come help. Start getting wood. And maybe some large rocks if you find some. We can prop them against the doors to keep them shut." He tells you in passing, pulling the cabin door open and going inside.

You check the sky one more time in case you'd missed these rain clouds. Still nothing. When the cabin door opens up again, you look back to Soap as he comes out.

"Soap, I don't see any storm clouds." You wanted to believe him, but you honestly felt like this was all some trick to just get you to help him get wood.

"They're all over there," Soap repeats in a frustrated tone, motioning once again off in the direction you'd looked earlier. "What the fuck is so hard to understand?"

"I didn't see any!" You frown, getting an annoyed look from Soap.

"Can you just fucking trust me?! If you don't want to help then just go back inside, sit on your lazy ass, and let me fucking get wood!" He yells, storming off to keep gathering sticks.

You roll your eyes, letting out a frustrated growl as you stomp after him to help him collect wood. This was ridiculous. If there was no storm, you might just kill him.

***

It was about ten minutes later that you fully believed Soap. The sky above you seemed to darken instantly, and suddenly, you could hear thunder rumbling in the distance. You managed to get tons of sticks and decent sized logs. You also found some rocks to roll in front of the doors to keep them shut in case there was wind.

Now inside, looking out the window, you watch as fat, heavy raindrops start to splatter against the wooden deck. It starts with only a few before turning into an all out downpour. It's accompanied by wind shortly after, which does make the doors shake a bit.

"How long do you think this is supposed to last?" You ask, flinching as a bright flash of lightening momentarily blinds you before a loud crash follows it. It makes the glass windows rattle a little.

"Hell if I know." Soap mutters, shouldering the front door to try and make it close better. You roll your eyes.

"Well I just figured I'd ask the guy who magically knew it was going to rain and predicted there would be wind." You grumble.

"I'm not some fortune teller who knows the future, I'm just not fucking blind!" He growls at you.

"I didn't see storm clouds!"

"We've established you're pretty fucking blind! That's not my problem! You know, you should be thanking me instead of being an ungrateful brat!" Soap’s sharp voice cuts through the darkness.

"After the way you treated me this morning?! You're out of your mind." You cross your arms. It's dark, so you can't really see each other, but you can feel Soap’s intense glare burning into you.

"Oh, look who's the victim! Poor little States... like you know anything about what that's like." He mutters that last part. You almost don't hear him.

"I'm more of a victim than you-" you begin, ready to lash out about witnessing the horror of his pale white ass from earlier, but Soap’s sudden, ice-cold tone cuts you off.

"You don't want to finish that sentence, States. You don't know anything that I've been through." His words hang in the air, heavy and dangerous.

You watch his outline on the other side of the room, which wasn't too far away. Any smart retort you had dies on your tongue. His words have a weight that make you pause, and you can’t help but wonder darkness he’s hinting at. The silence stretches on, taking on a rather unsettling edge.

"Then tell me." You finally offer, not able to see the surprised look that passes through Soap's eyes due to the darkness. He covers it up with a huff, shaking his head, though you can't really make that out too well either.

"I'm not sharing any part of my life with you, States. Just drop it."

He retreats to the bedroom then, door shutting heavily behind him. You don't make a move to follow after him. You just sigh to yourself and rub your face. The tension in the cabin was high again, though this tension was different than before. You just hoped the storm would let up soon so you can get some air.

***

Roughly forty minutes later, any hope of the storm dying off is gone. If anything, it's staring to get more violent. You're trying to make lunch, or maybe dinner at this point, when there's a loud snapping sound from outside. It's the sound of a limb snapping off.

It lands pretty close to the cabin and makes a loud sound as the branches scrape against the building's wooden sides. You let out a sharp yelp and jump back from the stove, heart hammering in your chest.

A second later, Soap is coming out of the bedroom, clearly having heard the noise too. You would have been shocked if he hadn't. It was loud.

"The fuck was that?" He asks, going for the flashlight and clicking it on. He's shining it up at the ceiling, thinking the branch had landed up there and broken through.

"I don't know. A branch must have snapped off. It sounded like it landed on the other side of the wall." You tell him. Soap was searching around, checking all the corners of the space and even trying to look out the windows to see outside.

"I hope this storm dies down soon. Last thing we need is for a tree to land on this place." He mutters, clicking the light off when he doesn’t find any damages.

"Oh don't say stuff like that. Now it's totally going to happen." You frown, grabbing a jar of jam from the shelf.

You wince as another loud crash of thunder seems to go off right above you. It was deafeningly loud and made you slam your hands against your ears. In the process, you drop the jar, and it shatters as it hits the ground.

You might have been a grown woman in the military, but thunderstorms still freaked you out just a little bit. Especially when you were in the middle of the woods, with no radio, surrounded by trees, while it was down pouring and there were winds that might put tornados to shame.

"Ah, fuck." When the rumbling has subsided, you look down at the ground and curse at the mixture of jam and sharp glass shards on the floor. "I don't want to hear you bitch about me dropping that, cause you don't even like jam." You tell Soap, expecting a quick retort back from him, but you get nothing.

"Soap?"

Apparently thunderstorms didn't just freak you out. When you looked over at Soap, he was leaning against the wall and fists clutching the fabric of his pants. His breathing sounded a little labored, and you frown.

"Soap? Are you alright?" You ask cautiously, and he nods.

"Yeah.. yeah, M'fine..." He mutters to you, but you can tell he isn't. "I just... I need to.." His voice trails off as he stumbles towards the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

You hesitate for a moment before following, cautiously opening the door. Soap is sitting at the edge of his cot, his head in his hands, and his whole body trembling. It’s clear he’s having some kind of PTSD episode.

"Soap, what's wrong? Just tell me." You calmly say, wanting to help him, but unsure how.

"M'fine... I just need to calm down." He replies shakily, confirming your suspicion.

It was quite common for people in the military to have PTSD. The loud thunder boom from earlier must have trigger some memory for him.

"Hey, it's alright. It's just you and me out here. No one else. We're safe." You say, trying to ground him. His breathing is still erratic.

"I know we are! I just can't get my body to accept it." He snaps, frustration lacing his words.

"Just breathe, Soap. It's ok. Look at me." When he doesn’t respond, you get down on your knees in front of him. His eyes are unfocused, filled with panic. Despite how you feel about him, it’s hard to see him this way.

"Deep breath alright? Breathe in and hold it for five seconds, then slowly exhale." You instruct him, starting the breathing exercise in hopes he’ll follow.

“States, I said I’m fine! Please.” He gasps out, hands shaking as he grabs your shoulder and tries to push you away.

You stay where you are though, pulling a hand over his and continuing the breathing pattern. “You’re not fine! I’m not going anywhere, Soap. Just breath with me.”

He finally caves, his breathing too erratic for him to argue further. At first, he struggles to take deep breaths, but gradually, he begins to mirror your breathing. Slowly, his breaths become more controlled, the panic in his eyes starting to fade.

Once he's able to breath again, you get to your feet and place your hand on his back. "You alright now?" You ask softly, allowing him a moment to collect himself. He nods instead of answering you.

"Sit tight, I'll get you some water."

When you return with the water, he’s sitting up more, looking slightly more composed. He accepts the water you bring him and takes slow sips.

"You got PTSD?" You ask slowly, and he nods, staring down at his feet.

"Who doesn't in this line of work?" He responds, voice slightly tinged with bitterness.

"Yeah... I got it too." You admit. "That breathing exercise always helps me."

"You have a lot of episodes?" Soap asks, his voice monotoned and distance, as if he's still somewhere else.

"Used to. I got counseling early on, which really helped. What about you?"

"Haven't in a long time. Not since joining the forces." He answers, which confuses you a little. Did he mean before joining the task force?

You decide not to push it. He needed time to come around yet, and you want to give that to him. Giving his shoulder a soft squeeze, you head back to the kitchen.

"I'm gonna finish making lunch.. or dinner.. You want a sandwich?" You ask him, and he nods again.

"Yeah, sure... thanks."

You watch him a second longer before turning to go. He’s still staring blankly, but you know he’ll be ok now. Still, you leave the door open in case he starts freaking out again.

Soap always seemed invincible, but you guessed he was human after all. Who knew it'd be a thunderstorm that'd finally reveal his human side to you.

As you go back to making the sandwiches, Soap stares at the broken glass on the floor, the hairs at the back of his neck standing up. One of his scars seems to burn as if he’d received it just yesterday and not almost ten years ago.

He stared at the sharp shards of glass until you finally pick them up.

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