#i have made an issue for us all in that i have two ocs called theodore.... i thought this was fine since theyre in different universes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theereina · 2 months ago

Text

Let Me Talk

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +2.4K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, no smut, heavily dialogue-centered, anxiety mentioned, childhood trauma mentioned, angst, heartbreak, fluff, a smidge of dirty talk

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels unless requested.🤨

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @theereina. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

It had been four months since I had seen Terry. There was little to no contact besides short phone conversations and quick texts. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss him. It was the little things that made it hard to forget him. The way he always smelled of sandalwood and musk. The way he held my hand when I was anxious. The way his smile lit up a room. The way every shirt he owned molded to his body like a glove. Ugh, I gotta stop.

I wanted nothing more than for him to return home to me, but pride got in the way. Not only for him but for me, too. We were equally as stubborn and stuck in our ways, unyielding to the love we shared. Being right somehow mattered more to each of us— more than a good morning kiss, a massage after a long day, the vows of our marriage.

Letting pride hinder our judgment, I told Terry to leave and not come back. Truthfully, I didn't want him to, I was just angry and tired of fighting. So, when he left without a fight, it reminded me too much of my abandonment trauma. Watching him walk out that door tore me apart. I was once again a five-year-old girl watching her father leave for the last time, never to return. The power Terry held over me in that moment was only a fraction of the hurt I felt. It was like the world around me shattered. With him, Terry took both light and love while I fell further into darkness more and more each day.

In other words, Terry and I couldn't comprehend that we could both be right even with two different perspectives. The basis of the problem as trifling as it seemed was an ugly nuanced one. Unfortunately, Terry was raised by his parents while I had to survive mine. This understanding is what caused the biggest fight we had ever had. No matter how much I explained it, Terry couldn't understand why I did things the way I did.

For context, I have had no contact with my family since I left home after college. I didn't talk to my sisters, brother, stepfather, and definitely not my mother. Terry's nurturing and supportive upbringing made him less receptive to the dysfunction that came with mine. He couldn't fathom not speaking to his family, let alone his mother, for years. So, when he brought up the idea of me reconnecting with them, it was a shock. The first time he asked I reminded him that I had my reasons— he only knew some. The second time I admired his persistence but still declined the offer. However, after the fifth or sixth time, I was fed up. I wanted him to understand how much these people collectively hurt and drained me. After days of explaining and retelling the story, he responded with annoyance— calling me childish and bitter.

Damn right, I was! I had taken care of every single one of them for years. I had put my health on the back burner to ensure they were good. I had stretched myself thin to the point of almost being hospitalized for a mental breakdown. No one other than my mom came, but we all know her true reason for coming— to save face. Considering she never believed or accepted my mental health issues, she just complained the whole time I was in the waiting room. This is the type of stuff I dealt with from them. This lack of care, kindness, appreciation, and love is why I left as soon as I was financially stable enough.

Even after talking about this for days, the only thing I was left with was a heavy heart and teary eyes. The more Terry pressed; the more distant I became. I didn't want it to get this far or this bad, but he wouldn't let it go. His mind was already made up. To him, family is family, and we should forgive them no matter what. Unfortunately, that wasn't and would never be my reality.

Present Day

“Caramel cookie butter iced coffee and a regular hot coffee for… Fallon!” yelled the barista from behind the counter. “That's me,” I said, facing the small woman. “Here you go. Enjoy,” she said, smiling and pushing the drinks toward me. I checked the sticker on the regular coffee to see if they remembered the two sugars. I picked up both drinks and searched for an empty table in the back of the coffee shop. I knew this conversation would result in both of us or at least me ugly crying.

I slid into a booth in the far back corner of the shop, facing the door. I knew that if it became too overwhelming for me, seeing the door would provide a certain level of relief— an exit or escape if needed. Immediately upon sitting, I began to remember some of the memories I and Terry shared here. This quickly became our favorite spot. Plus, it was right down the street from our shared home. Terry would come here almost every Monday and Friday morning to pick up my current favorite drink order. He called it a treat to start the week and a reward for finishing.

This is also the place where we had our first conversation about marriage. I can almost remember Terry's face when I told him I never thought about being married— until I met him. I didn't believe anyone could love me, especially a man of Terry's caliber. I felt like damaged goods that would never be good enough for him or anyone else. So, I never planned for that milestone. Terry's presence in my life felt like a reassuring message from God that I was loved and deserved it— properly.

Oh, God! Not me already crying, and he hasn't even made it. I quickly used one of the napkins to dab my eyes. Taking deep breaths and relaxing my shoulders, I tried my hardest not to get lost in my thoughts. I knew that once I let myself be sucked into that abysmal cycle I would be trapped there before even a word was spoken between us.

I leaned back into the booth, watching the door. Terry wasn't late; I was just extremely early. I needed to prepare myself as much as possible before seeing him.

10 minutes later

ding ding

“Good morning! Welcome to the Coffee Cabin,” yelled the woman from behind the counter. “Hey, good morning,” said a familiar voice. I knew exactly who this was yet my heart refused to settle down. I didn't know how my mind and body would react to seeing him face-to-face for the first time in months. My hands were sweating profusely. How the fuck was I going to make it through this?

“Pumpkin?” Terry said, sitting across from me. “Uh,… Hi,” I said struggling to breathe. “Hey, mama. Look at me. Fallon!” Terry said, leaning over the table and lifting my chin. I looked up to see Terry glaring back at me. Those striking green eyes expressed his concern. His eyes spoke before his mouth could. There was no need to voice his worry.

“Terry, please,” I said, holding his hand. “Don't do that. Just tell me what's wrong,” he said pulling my hand to his lips. “This! What the hell are we doing right now? It's like we aren't even married. I don't…” I rambled. “Pumpkin,” Terry said, trying to stop me. “We aren't living…” I continued. “Pumpkin,” Terry said, gripping my hand. “I don't know what to do with myself half the time. It's…,” I said. “Pumpkin, enough! Stop!” he cried out. I could sense his frustration with my rambling. I hadn't stopped talking since he sat down. “Terry, I'm just trying…,” I said trying to continue. “No. Stop it! This isn't how this was supposed to go. Let…me…talk,” he grunted.

I pulled my hand away and placed it back into my lap. I dropped my head in embarrassment. I hadn't even made it one minute before making a fool of myself. “Listen, I love you. I know you are feeling anxious right now. We both have a lot to say, and that's okay. But before we can continue, I need you to relax, love. Okay?” he said, caressing my cheek. I shook my head, looking back up at him. “I'm sorry. This is hard,” I said. “I know, mama. I know,” he said, wiping away a single fallen tear.

“C’mere,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me up from my seat. “Terry, I…!” I said, trying to pull away from him. “Nah, come to me, Pumpkin,” he said while wrapping his arms around me. It was as if life itself had started again. Terry's embrace broke me in the gentlest way possible. His body swallowed mine, providing me with the comfort I had been craving for months. I missed this man and everything about him.

“I'm sorry. I…,” I said, sniffling into Terry's chest. “Shhh, stop apologizing. I don't need you to apologize. I need you to let me— let me love you, let me take care of you, let me come home,” he said, tilting my chin up to meet his eyes. He leaned down and kissed me on the lips. I had never felt so much relief in my life. A single kiss had just washed away all the pain and guilt I had carried for these last four months.

“I don't know what to say. I had all these… these… speeches planned in my head. Just for me to remember nothing,” I said leaning further into Terry. “That's fine. Let me talk, you just listen. Turn your brain off for a minute and relax. Aight?” he said, releasing me from his hold. His hands held onto the sides of my face. He was awaiting an answer, but words were escaping me. Too many thoughts were fighting to claim power over my tongue.

“Turn it off, lil’ mama. Okay? Sit back down for me,” he said, gesturing towards my seat. His hand waved back towards the booth as I slid back in. Terry sat back down in front of me. He reached for my hands and pulled them towards him. It's insane how something as simple as Terry holding my hands made me feel lighter and calmer. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “There you go. Thank you, Pumpkin,” he said while stroking the back of my hands.

“Listen to me, okay? I should have never pressed you so hard about what was going on. Your boundaries were clear. I can see that now and wish I could have seen that then. These last four months have been absolute hell in the most silent way possible. I let my perspective overshadow yours when this was your experience— your reality, not mine. I won't sit here and lie to you like I'll ever understand how you feel. I won't. However, as your husband, it was my job to console you…. and… and care for you. I failed you at that moment. I don't deserve your immediate forgiveness, and I will do whatever you ask to receive it. I… uh… I left you to deal with all those emotions alone when it was my fault that you had to relive it in the first place. I was forcing you to see things my way because I thought I knew what was best for you based on my… my experience. You didn't deserve that. You deserved so much more than I gave you at that moment, and for that, I'm sorry. Sorry for how I handled the situation entirely. From this day forward, I promise to be a better man to you— a better husband. You deserve the world, mama. I love you more than life itself. Please, forgive me. Please,” he pleaded.

By this point, I was sobbing. I didn't need to say a word. I jumped up from my seat and ran around to Terry's side. There was nothing I wanted more than him— all of him. I sat in his lap and held his face in my hands. “Of course, I forgive you. I love you, too. I don't know what to say. Fuck… just… just kiss me already, papa,” I said, looking into Terry's eyes. They were the softest they had been in a while.

Terry’s urge was just as strong as mine as he pulled me in to kiss him on the lips. But, I needed more; so I used my tongue to part his lips. Terry's mouth opened, and I could feel his energy shift. The desire in him ignited like a flame. The yearning was mutually shared. His hands roamed wildly as teeth met tongue. Neither one of us cared that we were in public. Sharing breath and body, we became one again. With passion burning in our bellies, Terry pulled away first. I looked at him to be met with a pained gaze filled with a desperate hunger for something else.

“Pumpkin, I think we should leave. Um… the thoughts that are… uhh, shit… Woman the things I want to do to you have no business being viewed by the public eye,” he said, catching his breath. His chest rose and fell rapidly with every word. “Yeah?” I asked, stroking his ear and swallowing hard. My breathing was equally just as harsh.

Terry's gaze lingered over my body. “Yeah, we need to leave. Now!” he said, guiding me with his hands on my hips. “Did you drive or walk?” he asked, making me face him. “Walked,” I answered softly. “Okay. I drove. Unfortunately for you, you gettin’ in a car with me, and I can't promise to keep my hands to myself. Honestly, we probably not makin’ it home,” he said while leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Oh, fuck… Don't say stuff like that,” I said, clenching my thighs together. “You wanted honesty, mama. Hell, we should put that extended cab to good use for once,” Terry said, his lip curling up into the most sinful smirk. “You're nasty,” I said, hitting him in the chest. “Yea, and? You love it!” he said, pulling me into another kiss.

Part 2 => 🗣

Taglist: @avoidthings @brattyfics @cocooned-butterfly @5headsupremacist @ariiijestertheklown

@creartivefairy @miyuhpapayuh @armandosbabymama @megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@nayaxwrites @jimmybutlrr @lovey-3 @curvyambitions @gg-trini

@deja-r @hoouno06 @insidefeelingofanadult @slutsareteacherstoo @skyesthebomb

@blowmymbackout @blackerthings @mymindisneverhere @iburias @androgynousgaz

@becauseimswagman1 @geee3bayyybeee3 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @keyaho

@pocketsizedpanther @sageispunk @charismablu @4ftwonder @ineedmyaccountback

@rebelrel0987 @4pfsukuna @writingsbytee @nayaesworld @babybratzmaraj

@pinkpantheris @honeytoffee @talkswithdesi @blyffe @helloncrocs

@amyhennessyhouse @beenathembo @thiccc-c @qtmkenedy03 @persethegawd

257 notes · View notes

halfvalid · 1 year ago

Text

the blade daughter, pt. 1

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 8.3k this part

description: as the daughter of dracule mihawk, you've been living alone at home, unwilling to go out and find a life of your own due to the belief that your father needs you around. but when he sends you off to buy him a jacket, you end up running into a pirate crew—and a particular swordsman—that end up changing how you feel.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, sexual harassment (from nameless OC), slow burn

author’s note: finally she's here! i'm posting it spaced out because i don't want to overload you all with a 23.6k fic in one post... IMPORTANT NOTE: i did some research from the animanga for mihawk's personality, weapons, and home, but this is still very much only a fic for OPLA and not the other iterations of the material.

the fic is not exactly only a romance; it focuses a lot on the reader's personal character development along with her relationship with mihawk too. i hope you guys don't mind! i kind of lost the plot lol.

reader is mihawk's biological daughter, but is stated to take after her mother and doesn't bear similarity to mihawk. so the fic is poc reader friendly!

Your dad was late to dinner again.

To be fair, Dracule Mihawk didn’t exactly follow a schedule. He was fickle—back when you’d been a girl, he’d been around all the time, because although he was a lot of things, Mihawk was not an absentee parent. But as you’d grown older, he started being less strict, leaving you alone for days and weeks until you’d finally matured into an adult. Mihawk spent most of his time away from the house, now—but you agreed to have dinner together every week, no matter what part of the ocean he was in.

And he was late.

You’d started cooking the meal early, only for Mihawk to not show up when everything was ready. Or after everything was ready. Or even when everything had cooled, and you’d eaten your fill, and waited in your chair for him to arrive. He finally showed up a quarter past two in the morning, the doors of the dining room bursting open to announce his entrance.

You cracked an eye open from where you’d been dozing in your seat. “You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Mihawk said, taking his hat off and bowing with a flourish. He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “I got a little busy. Garp had me deal with a pirate in the East Blue.”

You made a face at him as he sat down to eat. “Could’ve at least let me know. Den den mushi exist for a reason.”

“Ah, well, my apologies.” Mihawk sighed, dramatic as ever—you couldn’t find it in you to be mad at him for more than a few minutes, though, something he knew well. “It would’ve gone quickly had some upstart not challenged me to a duel. So I had to spend the night.” He tsked, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “And then I went to visit an old friend. Red-haired Shanks.”

“I remember him.” You got up from your seat, moving to the kitchen to rifle in the icebox for a popsicle. “Another duel? What’s this week’s body count?”

“You know I don’t tally such trifling matters, sweetheart,” Mihawk said. You shrugged, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen to watch him start eating. “This pasta is cold.”

“Wasn’t cold four hours ago,” you said, languidly licking at your popsicle. “No sympathy here, dad.”

“Fine,” Mihawk said. “Anyway, I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of the man. Tall, green hair, three swords.” He wrinkled his nose. “Said people called him the Demon.”

“Roronoa Zoro,” you affirmed, slipping into the chair beside your father. “Scariest pirate hunter in the East Blue. You killed him?”

“Clearly not much of a pirate hunter, considering he’s a pirate now,” Mihawk said, the scrape of his knife and fork ringing around the room. “Joined the man I Garp sent me after, this little boy in a straw hat. And no. I let him and his crew go.”

You paused, voice faltering as you registered the words. “You let him live?”

“Yes. He was rather interesting. I expect he’ll come find me later,” Mihawk answered. You stared at him, still baffled. Your father was a lot of things, but a man of mercy was not one of them. Your earliest memory of him exacting his power over others was when you’d been two, watching from your crib as he speared the nanny for calling you a brat. A touching gesture, for certain, but still. “But enough about work. How have you been, little hawk?”

“Bored,” you said with a sigh. “It’s so dull on this island.”

Mihawk looked amused. “You could leave. I’m not restricting you here anymore.” Back in your teen years, Mihawk hadn’t let you leave the house—something about enemies wanting to kill his daughter or whatever else nonsense. He’d trained you personally, though, so you were nearly as fearsome as your father—able to beat anyone in combat in the blink of an eye. “You don’t have to stay.”

“The house would get all dusty,” you protested, lips tugging into a line. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t done any exploring. Mihawk had taken you to all four seas throughout your adolescence, and you’d taken vacations to everywhere of importance. You just—didn’t have much of a point to leave, really. You very much preferred not to, something tying you firmly to the island, to your castle. “And besides, where would I even go?”

“I hear the East Blue is interesting this time of year,” Mihawk said. “You could venture around here, but…” He shrugged. “The Grand Line is dangerous.”

You made a face. “I’ve lived here my entire life. I can take care of myself.”

“Certainly,” Mihawk agreed easily. “But it’s simply not worth it. You really should get out more, dear. It’s not good for your health.”

“Maybe,” you said, but you weren’t very enthusiastic about it. “Here, I’ll clean Yoru for you while you finish eating.” You moved around the back of his chair, lifting his sword off the jacket he hadn’t bothered to shed from his back. You grimaced upon seeing a line of dried blood along the blade. “Dad.”

“Sorry, dear,” Mihawk said, and you rolled your eyes, carrying the sword over to the living room. You set Yoru down with a heavy thud, pulling out a box of materials. Mihawk came over to watch you, one arm propped against the doorway as his aureate eyes gazed down as you worked.

Compared to your dad, you looked relatively normal. You’d always taken after your mother—a mysterious woman you barely had any memories of—and the relation between the two of you was never immediately obvious. The fact your eyes were plainly normal instead of bearing the golden hawk eyes Mihawk had was another factor added to that, too.

You pulled out a bottle of oil, pouring it generously over Yoru’s blade before grabbing a cloth to carefully wipe it with. “Where in the East Blue?” you asked abruptly, not looking up. Mihawk’s fork clinked along the ceramic of his bowl, presumably surprised you’d actually consider the offer of leaving.

“Well, I could send you out to run some errands if you wish. I’ve got some things to attend to,” Mihawk optioned. “There’s this one store in Loguetown with a rather nice jacket I’ve had my eye on.”

You shot him a disbelieving look. “You want me to go to the East Blue to buy you a jacket.”

Mihawk shrugged. “My birthday’s coming up.”

“No, it’s not.” You slid your rag along the edge of Yoru’s blade, folding it in half before wiping the entire thing again to ensure there was no grime left. “Finished. Maybe I’ll just stay—”

Mihawk gave you a look.

“Fine. Loguetown it is,” you said with a sigh. “Don’t give me a crew. I’ll just take one of the sloops. I’ll get your dumb jacket for you.” You got up, tossing the cloth over a shoulder to hand wash later. “I’ll leave later today.”

Mihawk clicked his tongue. “You’re so enthusiastic, darling. I can practically see the excitement oozing off of you.”

You rolled your eyes, moving past him to go up to your room. “Short trip,” you said. “No more than a couple of days.”

“The little hawk, so incited to leave the nest.”

“Shut up.”

Mihawk had complied with your wishes, as when you woke up the next morning, he had already prepared a sloop for you to board alone. You packed some of your things, not being too fussy about the clothing or other objects, knowing that the boat was already well-stocked on its own. Mihawk waited to send you off, though you knew he probably had affairs to attend to by now.

“Be good, darling,” he said, while you were loading up the last of your stuff. Just like your father, you preferred to wear your sword on your back; a present he’d given you at the age of thirteen. “I’ll call you. I’ve got business in the South Blue.”

“Have fun,” you said, and he kissed the back of your hand before pushing you off.

Loguetown was just how you’d remembered it, buzzing with civilians and pirates alike. The stores were plentiful, and filled to the brim with customers—it was all a little overwhelming compared to the peace and quiet you were used to. Still, it wasn’t a bad place to stay for a few weeks, and you might as well take your time there.

You slung your coat on as you exited the docks, glancing around the town in search of something to do first. Since you weren’t especially interested in retrieving a jacket for your father just yet, you beelined to the nearest tavern to grab something to eat. It was a lot easier traveling without Mihawk at your side—as much as you loved him, he had the habit of attracting both trouble and fear wherever he went, and he was near impossible to go out with.

The tavern was full, but not too crowded, and you managed to slip over to the bar without much trouble. It seemed to mostly consist of pirates—rough men with flowing jackets and holsters of guns and swords at their hip, clustered together in groupings that clearly proved their alliances with each other. You were one of the only patrons who was alone.

You gestured for the barkeep, and she bustled over from where she was serving a particularly ragtag group of pirates. They were mismatched, colors oddly paired—a girl with neon orange hair, a short man with a straw hat, one wearing a flowery shirt and goggles and the last man dressed in clothes far too formal for a bar. “What can I get for you?” she asked, a thick brogue dragging down her words.

You told her your drink order, still eyeing the group. The barkeep followed your vision and let out a sigh. “Don’t bother. Three men have already tried to capture him for the bounty. Broke half my furniture. And we got a rule here, anyway—no fightin’.”

“Does he have a bounty?” you asked with a frown. She scoffed.

“Does he ever. Thirty million berry, child. Highest in the East Blue.” She shook her head. “That crew won’t let anyone touch ‘im. Hell, I think his first mate’s still outside cleaning up the bodies.” She sighed again. “Well, I’ll have that drink out for you in a moment.”

You nodded, slipping into the closest available chair. Now that you were paying attention, you could see practically every pair of eyes fixed on the group—specifically, on the man in the center wearing the straw hat.

Before you could ask another question, the door to the tavern opened, and a lean, green-haired man filled the doorway. You glanced over at the barkeep, a flash of recognition in your eyes. “That’s Roronoa Zoro.”

“Aye,” she said, setting your drink in front of you. “If there’s someone who might be able to cash in that bounty, it’d be him. But believe it or not, he’s with the Straw Hat.”

You watched as the pirate hunter made his way to the table the others sat at. The glint of his famed three earrings reflected off the tavern lights, and the sword on his hip swayed as he walked—but there was only one rather than the three you’d heard tales about. “Yeah, my father said something of the sort.”

The barkeep hummed, turning to attend to a pirate who’d taken a seat at your left. “And who’s your father, lass?”

“Dracule Mihawk.”

The pirate beside you raised his head, turning towards you in almost alarm. Beside him, his crew quieted, and the barkeep glanced up to meet your eyes. “Dracule Mihawk?” she repeated incredulously.

“He sent me to buy him a coat,” you said. “I don’t suppose you know where any shops are around here?”

“Er, there’s a shop off main you might want to see,” the barkeep said, eyes flickering over to the pirate crew that had changed their focus to you. “Anything else for you, then?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you said, taking another sip of your drink. She nodded, leaving the bar in favor of moving over to another table. The pirate beside you turned slowly, stool scraping against the floor as he sneered down at you.

“Dracule Mihawk’s daughter, eh?” he asked. “Care if I buy you a drink?” Behind him, the rest of his crew tittered. You just sighed.

“Sorry, my father doesn’t let me go out with anyone who hasn’t bested me in combat.” You knocked back the rest of your drink, glancing up and down the pirate’s figure. He didn’t look like much—two pistols strapped to the hip, a longsword on the other, a raggedy leather jacket with a hat to match.

The pirate scoffed. “Please,” he said, though you could see his skin turning rapidly crimson. “I doubt you’re even related to him. No hawk eyes or nothing.”

You met his gaze, lips tightening into a line. “I take after my mother.”

“Biggest lie I ever heard, aye, crew?” The pirate turned back towards the rest of his men, and they cheered in agreement. You huffed out a sigh, trying your very best not to turn combative—despite everything, you were proud of your relationship with your father, and anyone trying to call you a liar for your lineage just left you vexed and angry. Before you could step away, though, the pirate turned towards the rest of the tavern, apparently having had a bit too much liquor. He raised his voice, practically yelling now. “Oi! This girl thinks she’s the daughter of Dracule Mihawk!”

Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Roronoa Zoro look up, the rest of his crew glancing over at you at the words. You were distracted within a second, the pirate shoving your arm. “Hey, don’t look away, girl. I’m trying to—”

You grabbed onto his wrist, nails razor-sharp as they embedded into his skin. “Don’t touch me.”

“Oh, you think you’re tough, do you?” The pirate yanked his hand out of your grip. “Did your daddy teach you how to fight, huh? Think you can beat me?”

“I know I can beat you,” you answered. The pirate reached for his sword, then, fingers tightening around the hilt.

“Alright, let’s make it a bet then. You beat me, I believe your claim about being Mihawk’s daughter.” His lips curled back into an ugly sneer, and you debated stepping out of the conversation and just going off to find that shop for your dad’s coat anyway. Fights like these were never worth getting into, and you really didn’t want to break any more of the barkeep’s furniture after she’d let out her annoyances to you.

Before you could, though, the pirate opened his big mouth once again.

“I beat you, and you go to bed with me.”

You were whipping your sword out before you could even think, red flashing in your vision as you scraped your blade out from the holster on your back. The metal gleamed under the lights, white steel bright as day as you leveled it in your hand. It wasn’t the largest weapon, a perfectly balanced cut-and-thrust spadroon with a golden hilt wrapped in white ribbon. You tightened your grip on the handle.

“I beat you,” you hissed, voice low, “and you’re dead.”

He lunged for you, pulling his sword out in one solid stroke and meeting yours in a loud clang. You shot an apologetic look towards the barkeep, spinning on your back leg and kicking the pirate away. The force caused him to stumble, sword skittering to the side as you shoved it off your blade.

One of his crew members had cocked a gun to your head, and you spun your swords toward him, blade cutting through the metal like it was butter. The rest of the crew stepped back, one or two of them lunging for you. You parried all of their attacks, shoving them to the ground until they stopped trying to fight.

The captain had gotten up, a fierce snarl upon his face as you slammed your blade down towards him. He blocked it with his sword, and then went for various attacks towards your figure—you dodged each one of them, parrying them easily as you moved backwards. At the last one, you used your weight to buck the sword back in his direction, and he stumbled again.

You ducked down, sweeping him off his feet with a well-aimed kick to his shins, and he fell, sword clattering out of reach as he dropped flat on his back. You towered over him, pointing the edge of your blade at his throat.

“You want me to go outside to kill him?” you asked. The barkeep sighed.

“If you don’t mind, lass.”

“Not at all.” You bent over, grabbing firmly onto the pirate’s shirt and yanking him upwards. His crew made a move towards you, but you just shoved your sword in their direction, and they stepped away. You spun your sword’s hilt around in your hand with a flourish, then started dragging the captain out the tavern door.

“No—wait—let me go,” the pirate begged, once you dropped him to the gravel outside and moved your sword to his throat again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t mean it—you’re a pretty girl, that’s all—”

“I don’t date men who can’t beat me in combat,” you said coolly. “Lower your expectations.” With that, you spun your sword again, sliding it back on the holster of your jacket. “I’ll let you live just this once. If you ever make any comments towards a woman again—”

“I get it. I’m sorry,” the man said, scrambling to his feet. You just eyed him.

“I need another drink.”

The tavern was dead silent when you returned to your seat, gingerly sitting back down on the stool you’d first occupied. “Another drink, if you don’t mind,” you said to the barkeep, and she nodded. A moment passed as she filled your mug, and then she asked—

“Is Dracule Mihawk really your father?”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, taking the drink she offered and taking a swig. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the Straw Hat pirate and his crew muttering amongst themselves. One of them nudged Roronoa Zoro in the side, and he grimaced, the loose shirt he wore parting with the motion. You caught a glimpse of bandages, wound tight with blood seeping through a familiar line. Yoru’s doing.

Zoro stood up, making his way over to the bar beside you. He propped his elbows on the table, but he didn’t sit, nodding at the barkeep. “Another round for my friends,” he said. His voice was quieter than you’d expected; a low mutter and almost soft in timbre. He glanced over at you, eyes flickering down and up again before he spoke. “I tried to kill your father.”

“Yeah, he told me,” you said. “Roronoa Zoro. What happened to your other two swords?”

Zoro scoffed. “Your dad.”

“He can be a little dramatic sometimes,” you said apologetically. He glanced over you again.

“You don’t look much like him.” He paused. “Figured I’d know if Mihawk had a daughter.”

“I take after my mother, and he’s very overprotective,” you said, getting just the slightest bit annoyed about everyone questioning your parentage. The barkeep returned then, sliding five beers across the table over to Zoro, and you stood up. “Now if you’d excuse me, I have some shopping to do.”

You exited the tavern after paying your tab, wandering around the streets of Loguetown to find the closest clothing store. Your father’s style was ridiculously grand, so it’d be something in the nicer branch of the city—you had just entered your best guess when you pulled out a shell phone, pushing the little snail into your ear and calling your father’s number.

He picked up on the first ring. “What is it, darling?”

“Did you have a specific coat in mind?” You glanced through a row of black leather, trying to find one that’d match Mihawk’s liking. “I’m at this place called Lady Tide’s Dressing Boutique. It’s the bougiest place I could find.”

“Lady Tide’s would be correct,” Mihawk said. “I trust your taste. Pick something I’d like.”

“You better be paying me back for this,” you threatened, turning the corner as you spoke. You jumped back in surprise, letting out a squeak as the Straw Hat pirate from before appeared right in front of you, a grin stretching up his face.

Mihawk’s laugh crackled through the line at your surprise. “Get startled, dear?”

“The pirate Garp sent you after is stalking me,” you deadpanned. The Straw Hat pirate’s grin only widened. “I’ll call you back.”

You hung up, taking the den den mushi out of your ear and back into its case. “What?”

“You’re a really good fighter,” the Straw Hat said brightly. “I’m Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m going to be King of the Pirates. You should think about joining my crew!”

“I—” you stared at him in disbelief, mind reeling from the whiplash of his words. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not a pirate.”

Luffy tilted his head to the side in question. “But your dad is Mihawk.”

“That doesn’t make me a pirate. I just stay at home for the most part,” you said. Luffy continued following you around the store, however, even as you stepped past him to browse more jackets. You glimpsed the rest of his crew hanging around the store, though none seemed to do any actual shopping. You figured Lady Tide’s was probably out of their price range. “Why are you still following me?”

“I think you should join my crew,” Luffy repeated. “Have you ever been to the Grand Line? That’s where we’re headed next.”

You gave him a look. “I live in the Grand Line.”

“Whoa,” Luffy breathed. “Well, you must know all about it, then!”

You turned away from him, picking a jacket off the rack in front of you and appraising it. Golden buttons, long tailcoat, wide lapels—not really Mihawk’s taste. You set it back. “Not really,” you finally answered. “Like I said, I stay at home for the most part. Haven’t done much exploring.”

“Don’t you want to?” Luffy asked, taking a step closer to you. You flinched. “Your dad’s one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea! You should be going out and adventuring, not just staying at home and doing whatever Mihawk tells you to!”

“Don’t,” you snapped, voice low. “I stay home because I want to. Not because my dad forces me to.” Your words bore no lie, but still, there was a rumble of uncertainty deep in your gut. Mihawk had always been supportive, but pirating had always been his thing. You preferred the solace of your own home, and there was no point in adventuring when Mihawk had seen it all before.

“I’m just saying, what do you even do all day?” Luffy asked with a quirk of the lip. “Stay home and clean? Go out once in a while to buy groceries or get stuff for your dad?” He gestured at the coat you were holding, and you flushed, shoving it back onto the rack. “Isn’t it boring? Don’t you want more than such an average life?”

“I’m perfectly happy with my life right now, thank you,” you snapped. “Go preach to someone else.”

Luffy had stopped walking, then, looking at you with an almost sympathetic expression on his face. “Living isn’t the same as thriving, you know,” he said. “You should go out. Find adventure. Aren’t there things you want to know? Questions you want answered?”

“Luffy.” You turned to see Roronoa Zoro move to his captain’s side, head dipping as he spoke to him. His tone was quiet, but you could still overhear— “Leave her alone. We’ve got business.”

Luffy looked dejected at that, but he agreed, bowing his head towards you before turning to the rest of his crew. They’d gathered by the mouth of the store, engaged in their own various activities as they waited. You watched Luffy turn to leave, words climbing up your throat even as you tried to swallow them down. “Wait!”

Luffy turned, that bright smile reappearing on his face. “What?”

“I want to know one thing,” you said, taking a step closer to the captain and his first mate. You glanced up at Zoro, who met your gaze. His face seemed carved of steel, skin bearing no grimace, eyes betraying nothing. “Why did my father let you live?”

Zoro looked away, and you realized he probably didn’t know the answer himself. Before you could speak again, though, Luffy interrupted.

“Because Zoro’s the best,” he declared, capturing your attention away from the injured swordsman. He slapped Zoro’s bicep with a heavy thud, and you were surprised when the other man didn’t even flinch. “And he’s gonna be better than Mihawk one day. He’s going to defeat him in a duel and take his title and become—”

“The world’s greatest swordsman,” Zoro finished. The words were muttered under his breath, clearly to himself rather than intending for you to hear.

You watched them for a moment before finally turning away. “Okay,” you said. “Good luck with that.”

Luffy stared at you for a moment longer, but Zoro was already turning away and walking towards the rest of the crew. There was an unsettling feeling in your gut, one you tried to squash. Whatever—you had better things to do than worry about some Straw Hat pirate and a retired pirate hunter.

You returned to your browsing, looking through various jacket designs until you finally fell across one you were certain your father liked. It was ridiculously expensive, but your father’s taste had always been so—you purchased it without a second thought, slinging it across a shoulder and returning to your sloop for the rest of the day.

To your great disappointment, the Straw Hat pirate’s words continued to echo throughout your head. His demeanor was off-putting, to say the least—the extreme amounts of candor and cheeriness he had made for a disorienting combination. Even as you tried to stop thinking about his terrifyingly honest words, you couldn’t. Don’t you want more than such an average life?

You sighed, mood irritable from the day's events. You’d returned to your sloop and hadn’t done much of anything for a few hours—past having a meal and cleaning up your boat, there was nothing to do. You mulled over your options, wondering if you shouldn’t just start the journey back home. But Luffy’s words came back to you.

“I need a drink,” you muttered, donning your coat and leaving to attend the first bar you could find.

You went someplace ritzy this time, near the peak of Loguetown where neon lights glimmered in the dark hour. It was crowded, and music blasted through the bar, pounding bass nearly making the floor reverberate. You slipped inside without much trouble, squeezing through the crowd and making way for the bar at the other end of the room.

You bought yourself a drink, knocking it back in just a few gulps. There were marines patrolling around in the building, although none of them seemed too keen on completing any of their duties. Pirates walked around freely too, but these ones were more dignified than the ones you’d seen in the tavern at town.

“You hear Straw Hat Luffy’s here at Loguetown right now?” someone muttered to your right. You glanced over with a furtive gaze to see who was speaking—two men, dressed in fine silks and coats. Swords dangled from their hips. Pirates, maybe, or pirate hunters. “His ship’s docked over by south port.”

“You’re not going to try and nab him, are you?” the other pirate hunter asked, fingers pinched around a thin glass of something. “That bounty’s hefty, but fighting them’ll be…”

“I’m getting a bunch of hunters together,” the first one said. “We’ll split the bounty. At midnight, once the whole crew’s asleep. I followed the navigator; seems they’re not leaving until the morning.”

“Thirty million split between many isn’t much.”

“Well.” The hunter made a vague gesture, a smirk playing at his lips. “I doubt we’ll all be alive by the end of the night, if you know what I mean.”

“Right.” The second hunter downed the rest of his drink. “I’ll be there. Where’s the rendezvous point?”

“Slip forty at south port. Come at midnight,” the first one replied. “My boat. Theirs is at fifty-two.”

You turned away, knocking back the last of your drink before setting the glass back down on the counter. Your mind reeled, and you pulled out a pocket watch to check the time. Nearly eleven. Only an hour left.

“Another drink,” you called, but you stopped after that one. Logically, you knew the Straw Hat crew would be able to handle themselves. Your father wouldn’t have let Zoro go had he not been an impressive fighter—and Luffy certainly had to have some tricks up his sleeve, having such a high bounty and all. But an ambush was an ambush.

You needed to go home.

You paid your bill and slunk outside, taking the long road down to the port. You were docked in the east, but you found yourself wandering towards south port, hands shoved in your pockets and sword heavy on your back.

There was no logical reason to get involved with pirates, you tried to tell yourself. That was Dracule Mihawk’s area of expertise. That was Dracule Mihawk’s life. Not his daughter’s. You were not a pirate—there was no point in being one. Mihawk has done everything already.

You stepped onto the pier of south port, the wooden ramp trembling under your feet. They were shoddily constructed; oak on water, with pegs every few feet or so and ropes thrown casually across the walkways. It was overcrowded with boats, too—ships of every kind and size, smushed into spots not big enough for them depending on how much you paid the dock men. The moon shimmered on the surface of the East Blue. She was calm today, waves lapping at the edges of the docks, tranquil in the night.

You checked your watch again. Nearly midnight.

Dock forty moored a relatively small ship, but it was crowded with men—ten or fifteen, maybe, and you knew they’d be killing each other when the fight was through. Thirty million berry divided between so many people was barely worth it. You slunk past them, counting the numbers of the boat berths.

You knew the boat before you looked at the slip number based on appearance alone. It was large in size, a caravel sporting a gigantic goat figurehead. You stared at it, brows furrowed, jaw slack. Well, it was certainly a ship. There was a large sail boasting the ship’s jolly roger—a crudely designed skull and crossbones sporting the same straw hat their captain wore.

With a sigh, you pulled yourself onboard, careful to not make a sound as you landed on the deck. It was quiet, but you doubted the crew didn’t have at least one lookout for trouble. You tiptoed around the mast, moving towards the foredeck.

You were just about to step a foot on the staircase when a gleaming katana came to your throat.

“What are you doing here?”

Roronoa Zoro was as calm as ever as he held a blade to your jugular, posture perfectly straight, eyes tilted in your direction. You glanced down at the blade, registering the smooth metal. It was the white-handled one; upon seeing it closer, you could better register its quality. It must’ve been insanely durable, more so than his other blades considering Yoru hadn’t shattered this one in battle—one of the strongest blades in the world.

“What’s the sword’s name?” you asked.

Zoro ignored your question. “What are you doing here?” he repeated.

You sighed, turning towards him, although you were careful not to touch the sword. Zoro’s grip didn’t budge. “There are pirate hunters coming here,” you answered. “At midnight. An ambush.”

Zoro still didn’t move. The night sky cast his entire face in shadow, the only light on board being a trembling lantern by the interior doors. You could just barely see the gleam of one eye, yellow light shining on his cheekbone. “Why would you come?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you answered coolly. “My father let you go for a reason. It’d be a shame if you died before you realized why.” It was an easy lie—because the real reason was one you didn’t want to think about. Because Luffy’s words struck something in you. Because they rang true.

“We don’t need your protection.”

You shrugged, only one shoulder moving upwards before relaxing again. “Just a friendly warning.”

Carefully, Zoro lowered his blade, the steel scraping along the edge of its scabbard opening before he slid it closed. “The Wado Ichimonji.”

Your eyes were still on the sheathed katana. “Hm?”

“The sword. Its name is Wado Ichimonji.”

You tilted your head back, angling it towards the sword strapped to your jacket. “Hiru,” you said. “That’s mine.”

“Day,” Zoro translated. “You have matching swords with your father?”

“Just matching names,” you answered. “It’s a spadroon, not a kreigsmesser. Much smaller than Yoru. Birthday present. When I was thirteen.”

Zoro eyed you. “I’ll wake the rest of the crew,” he said. “You can go.”

You made no move to, consulting your watch as Zoro rang the ship’s bell. Five minutes to midnight. You could already hear the near-noiseless patter of footsteps on the pier.

The orange-haired woman was the first out, fingers wrapped around a short wooden rod. She exchanged a look with Zoro, and he nodded towards the pier. She somehow knew exactly what he meant from that, dodging back inside the ship and returning, dragging a dark-haired man out.

“Uh, what’s going on?” the man asked, stifling a yawn as he fiddled with a slingshot. Both Zoro and the woman shushed him. “Jeez, okay.” He noticed you then. “Oh, hey, you’re the hawk dude’s kid—”

“Shut up, Usopp,” the woman snapped. She’d moved by the boat’s side, ducked under the rim. The footsteps were getting louder.

The blond man came out next, hands shoved casually in his pockets and dressed in clothes you genuinely did not think functioned as sleepwear. “Hunters,” the orange-haired woman said. “Ambush.”

“Isn’t that lovely,” the blond man murmured. He caught your eye, and a smile lit up his face. “Well, hello there.”

Both Zoro and the woman rolled their eyes. Before the blond could say anything more, though, the hunters’ footsteps abruptly stopped.

The orange-haired woman spun up from her crouch, wooden stick extending into a long staff as she whipped it out. She slammed one end of the staff into an incoming hunter’s gut as he leapt aboard the ship, forcing him off the side of the vessel.

Everything happened all at once, then—you heard the slick shing! of Zoro unsheathing his katana, and the blond was up and running towards another gaggle of hunters within the second, legs flying in an assortment of well-placed kicks.

You reached over your shoulder, tugging Hiru out of its straps. The blade shone bright under the moonlight, and you caught an incoming hunter’s sword with the lick of it, shoving him backwards as you spun.

“Why’s Mihawk’s girl here?” the blond called, as he slid across the deck, leg raising up into a spinning hook. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He met your eyes and winked, leaving you staring in utter disbelief until another hunter distracted you. “I’m Sanji!”

“Okay?” you asked blankly, letting out a huff of exertion as you whipped your sword toward the hunter. He’d pulled out one of his guns, wielding his blade one-handed as he fumbled with the trigger. You breathed in, recalling your father’s words from the thousands of hours spent training. Take advantage of any imbalances, sweetheart. Focus on the center of gravity.

You aimed a sliding kick at the man’s gun, using Hiru to push against his blade. The pressure caused him to fling halfway across the ship, body thudding against the mast before falling to the ground in a heap.

“Impressive,” Sanji whistled from his spot across the ship.

“Shut up,” Zoro and the orange-haired woman said in unison. Zoro was beside the fallen hunter in a second, katana slashing cleanly through his torso before he spun and shoved the blade straight into an incoming man’s stomach. Sanji just scoffed.

“Show-off,” he said accusatively. Zoro rolled his eyes, turning towards Sanji to argue, when you glimpsed someone at his back. You lunged for the man, sword cutting cleanly through his jugular before he fell across the deck, decollated.

Zoro turned, glancing over his shoulder at the body and then up at you. “You’re welcome,” you said, flicking Hiru to the side. Spatters of blood dripped off its blade.

“...Right.” The number of hunters had considerably thinned, only three or four left. The orange-haired woman was still fighting two of them, placing hits of her bo staff along two mens’ skulls. Usopp had crouched by the forecastle, firing pellets off with his slingshot. Sanji dusted off the final two men, until only the ringleader was left.

“Wait, wait.” The hunter backed away until he ran into the ship’s railing. He scrambled for his pistol, but as Zoro, Sanji, and the orange-haired woman advanced on him, apparently realized the idea was in vain. “We—we can talk about this.”

“I don’t think we can.” You turned at the new voice, watching as Luffy slipped out from the captain’s chambers. His hand came up to adjust his hat, crowned atop his head as always. “You came aboard my ship and tried to hurt my friends.”

The hunter’s jaw fell slack, mouth drying over as Luffy came to stand in front of him. The rest of the crew had parted to allow him space, and Luffy titled his head up, the lick of light from the lantern shining against his skin. A crescent-shaped scar under his eye glowed bright, the skin paler than the rest of his face.

“Gum gum…” he started, voice steadily rising in volume as he extended his hand backwards, fingers curled into a fist. To your surprise, his arm just kept stretching back, limb getting longer and longer with a distinctly rubbery stretch until it was all the way at the other side of the ship. “Pistol!”

His arm snapped back all in one, knocking the hunter straight in the jaw and shoving him off the ship in one, devastating blow. You stared at his flailing body, watching as he dropped straight into the ocean ten or so meters away with a loud plop.

You turned towards Luffy, one brow arched in question. “You’re a Devil Fruit eater?”

“The Gum Gum fruit,” Luffy said brightly. He adjusted his hat once more, fixing it atop his head before reaching an arm out to pat you on the shoulder. “Thank you for warning us. You’re a good person.”

“Don’t mention it.” You glanced down at Hiru. “Have anything I can clean my blade with?”

“Sure! Let Sanji cook you something while you’re here,” Luffy said. “It’s the least we can do.”

“Of course,” Sanji said with a little bow. “What would you like? Name anything and I’ll make it.”

You eyed him. “…Anything.”

Sanji let out an exaggerated sigh. “So uninspired. Meet you in the kitchen, then. We can leave the mosshead to clean up the bodies.”

The orange-haired woman just rolled her eyes. “I’m going back to bed,” she declared. She glanced over at you, appraising you in one solid sweep up and down your body. “I’m Nami.”

With that final word, she departed, snapping closed her staff and slipping back into the boat. Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji shuffled into the boat, presumably the kitchen. Zoro just sighed, setting his katana to the side to start cleaning up the corpses left after the battle.

You made no move to follow the others inside, watching as Zoro easily lifted up one of the hunters. The lines of his biceps strained as he climbed off the ship, still hefting the body before finally placing it down on the pier.

“Just toss them into the ocean,” you called. Zoro glanced over his shoulder, registering you standing there. He picked another body up.

“I don’t want to block our slip,” he answered.

“Fair enough. Any oil around here?” You wandered to the ship’s side, glancing through the boxes fixed to the deck. Zoro gestured in some direction that harmed more than it helped, really, but you dug through some boxes before unearthing something you could clean Hiru with.

You worked in silence, slicking the blade with the oil and rubbing off all the blood and mess that had gotten onto it. Zoro was quick, piling up all the corpses and barely-alive bodies by the dock. He shoved a few of them awake with his boot. “Go find a doctor,” you heard him mutter under his breath. You suppressed a laugh.

Eventually, Zoro climbed back on board, searching for his sword only to find it in your hands. You carefully polished off the last of the blade, then presented it to him. “You’re welcome.”

“…Thanks,” Zoro said, sheathing it in one smooth swipe.

“The cut,” you said, glancing down at his torso again. His shirt was covering the bandages, but you knew they were still there. “It was Yoru that did it. Not Kogatana.”

“The big one, yeah,” Zoro answered. You watched him thoughtfully, although you didn’t say a word. He seemed to get impatient by that, and was speaking just a moment afterwards— “Why?”

You gave a quick shake of your head. “Nothing,” you answered, the lie slipping easily off your tongue. But your mind churned with thoughts, the mere brain activity making your stomach curdle. It hadn’t clicked before, but now—your father didn’t use Yoru on anyone who wasn’t worthy. And letting Zoro live—letting the entire crew go, against Garp’s orders?

This was a more interesting group than you’d anticipated.

Zoro eyed you for a moment as you were lost in thought, though he didn’t say anything to interrupt you. Once you finally looked up, he adjusted, clearing his throat. “Should go inside to make sure the waiter isn’t burning down the kitchen,” he said, straightening.

You stood up, sliding Hiru into its scabbard on your back. “The… waiter?”

Zoro shook his head. “Long story.” He gestured with his head, nodding towards the double doors. “Kitchen.”

You followed him, the soft aroma of garlic and meat wafting around the room the instant you stepped foot inside. Everyone was crowded around the kitchen island, propped on chairs and staring as Sanji prepared a meal before them. You joined the group, glancing over Usopp’s shoulder to watch.

There was a stir-fry on the stove, garlic and onions joined by various other vegetables. Sanji drizzled soy sauce along the pan, scraping it around once with his spatula before turning down the heat. He added in some rice—leftover, it looked—along with some battered eggs, mixing it all together.

“Vegetable and chicken fried rice,” Sanji said, turning off the heat once everything had cooked through and starting to distribute it into servings. “I went for something universal because I don’t know what you like.” He met your eyes, flashing a giant, warm smile again. You took the bowl he offered, fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic.

“Thank you,” you said. The four of you stood in silence, and you had the feeling that you were intruding. The crew was a tight unit, that much was certain—wound tightly around each other, ropes intersecting in delicate knots and bows. You turned your attention to your meal. You hadn’t had a real supper, so the food was a welcome surprise, and it was damn near close to the best thing you’d ever tasted.

“So,” Luffy started, “Not to bug you about it a hundred times, but…” You glanced up. His expression was earnest as he met your eyes, lips tugged upwards in an encouraging smile even as he spoke. “Are you joining us?”

“Am I—? Oh,” you said, realizing what it was Luffy was referring to. “Is the offer still standing?”

“Always,” he answered brightly. “You’d be a good fit for our crew, you know.”

Would you really? There wasn’t much of anything special about you besides your parentage. You were as skilled a swordswoman as any, but there were hundreds better and stronger than you. There was no one thing you truly excelled at. “I’ll think about it,” you said hesitantly.

“Well, think quick. We leave at dawn,” Luffy said. “Meet us back here at blue hour if you’d like to join up.” He smiled again, all unassuming, and it was hard to believe a boy so pleasant had a thirty million berry bounty hanging suspended over his head. He yawned, stretching out his long limbs. “Well, I’m off to sleep. Sanji’s next watch.” He glanced over at Zoro. “Why don’t you walk her back to her slip, Zoro?”

Your brows furrowed, about to object, but Zoro was already standing up. He opted to say nothing, leaving you to set down your empty bowl and say your goodbyes in a hurry to follow him out.

The bodies on the pier had thinned, the alive ones presumably having dragged themselves to town to find a doctor. Zoro stepped over the heap of corpses, and you followed suit, walking in silence down south port. “I’m a little far,” you said. “You might lose your way heading back.”

“I’ll be fine,” Zoro dismissed. “I’m… sorry about Luffy. He can get overly enthusiastic.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you said with a shake of your head. “Are the rest of the crew open to me joining, though? It didn’t seem like he consulted any of you.”

Zoro’s brows lifted at that, though you weren’t certain why. “We’re all fine with it,” he said eventually. “Luffy wouldn’t invite someone who wouldn’t fit.” He hesitated, the plod of your footsteps creaking against the dock walkway for a few paces before he parted his lips again. “I’m going to fight Mihawk again, you know.”

“I figured,” you answered. You could feel Zoro’s eyes on you, scraping along your skin like they were blades themselves.

“You’re not upset by that?”

“Everyone wants to kill him for some reason or another,” you said. “You’re not the first.” Though there was something undeniably special about him. The fact he was still alive, for one. “I figure you’re a long way from that, so I’ll have a father for a few years more until you try to kill him again.”

There was something in the way you phrased your words that sounded so very ironic, and Zoro couldn’t suppress the light grunt from escaping his lips. It was dry, brittle—but closer to a laugh than a scoff, you could tell. “Is that your blessing?”

“Sure,” you said. “I, Dracule Mihawk’s daughter, hereby allow you, Roronoa Zoro, to murder my father in a duel.” The lightness in your tone dropped. “If you don’t mind me asking…” you took in a light breath, letting the taste of the words melt on your tongue before slipping them out. “Why do you want to, anyway? Defeat him, I mean?”

“I made a promise to someone a long time ago,” Zoro answered. His footsteps slowed as you reached your slip, the small sloop you’d sailed all the way to Loguetown calm as ever where it was moored. The black sails—vague, nondescript—sucked away all the light the moon attempted to cast on it, so it was even darker than the rest of the surroundings. “I told her I would become the world’s greatest swordsman.”

“That’s heavy,” you remarked, turning to face your companion. His skin was waxy and dull under the moonlight—aftereffects of the injury he still hadn’t fully recovered from. Zoro just shrugged.

“Maybe. It’s my life’s dream.”

“He’s a good father,” you said. “I think he’d like you.” You paused. “Well, he does. He wouldn’t have let you live if he didn’t.”

Zoro stiffened, the lines of his body tightening, spine pulling up just slightly. You noticed the change—you always did. Observation had always been one of your biggest strengths. Maybe you hadn’t gotten the golden irises your father had, but you had hawk eyes of your own in that way. Never missing a thing, picking out all flaws and details in a scene. “I’m not sure if I want him to like me.”

“He doesn’t feel hatred for a lot of people,” you said. “Just disdain. Though I’m fairly certain he’d have skewered that drunk at the bar earlier if he’d been with me.”

“The one who—” Zoro looked distinctly uncomfortable as he remembered what the pirate had offered you. He made a vague gesture instead, just mildly vulgar in motion. You suppressed a laugh.

“Exactly,” you agreed. “He doesn’t have patience for that sort of thing. He also feels no man who’s weaker than me in combat isn’t man enough to be with me, though I have questions about that particular rule.”

Zoro snorted. “You could definitely do better than the drunk pirate.”

“Right.” You glanced up at the moon, watching the steady silver glow of her face along the edge of the horizon. She was full, round and white, soft powder creasing the dents and shadows of her face. “I’m out for the night, then. Thank you for walking me.”

Zoro shrugged. He didn’t say anything, so you turned away, stepping onto your sloop without another word. You ducked into the interior room, closing the door firmly behind you so you could finally relax.

You had only a handful of hours of rest ahead of you, after all.

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

i'll be making a taglist for this series; just comment if you'd like to be added!

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #opla #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #opla fanfic #opla fanfiction #dracule mihawk #opla zoro x reader #kiki writes!

2K notes · View notes

sourszt · 3 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 | hate fucking + age gap

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — billy butcher x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, age gap, hate fucking, reader is in her 20s, butcher is like 40something, porn with plot, slight “daddy”/father-ish kink, slight power imbalance, bratty reader, butcher gets drunk, “kid” and “sweetheart” used, typical butcher language, top!reader, unusually soft ending

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — ending was lowkey doodoobuns but idc, also i lowkey gave the reader a slightly genuine plot im considering it for an oc LMFAO anyways enjoy ! this man brings out the worst in me unfortunately.

“maybe i’d have been better off if you’d just fucked off and left me alone!”

your own words still rang in your head from earlier. the venom in them that were meant for the man you were desperately searching for had splashed back onto you, and it fucking hurt. especially because you didn’t even mean to say it.

butcher always brought out the worst in you. whenever the two of you argued, which was just a hair below constantly, he just never knew when to stop. he pushed and pushed until you lashed out so badly that it would leave him silent.

everybody told you it was because you were the youngest in the group. having joined the team that called themselves ‘the boys’ at twenty years old because of your unprecedented intelligence and strategy, you had become accustomed to their violent methods. well, every method except one.

billy butcher. the group’s uncrowned commander seemed to be your only downfall. initially you expected him to treat you like a child because of your age. but it was never about that. for the two years you stuck with them, he was constantly breathing down your neck waiting for you to screw up.

he denied the special attention he gave you, which often caused the explosive arguments between the two of you. frenchie and m.m. opted to stay out of the way, but usually consoled you after the fact while butcher would storm off for hours, sometimes days to pull himself together.

much like now. a few hours ago, the two of you were knee deep in a vicious screaming match because of a nearly botched mission. butcher was blaming your lack of foresight when it came to an unexpected issue (though it was quickly taken care of) and said that you just weren’t one of them. you bit back just as hard, telling him that he was a selfish asshole who you should have never trusted.

you tore him a new one, expecting twice the fury back. but instead a flash of hurt shone in butcher’s narrowed eyes and he took off without a word.

m.m., the one who was always quick to take your side, told you once you settled down that you should be the one to find him. drag him out of whatever bar he was holed up in. he granted you permission to humiliate the man if you needed to because he knew how butcher was. you deserved to stomp the shit out of that man if you ever got the chance.

so that was how you ended up in the lot of a bar, ushering a fairly buzzed butcher into the passenger seat of the van. he came out calmly, which surprised you. he muttered something about missing his bed at home.

so you shot a quick call to frenchie telling him that you would be taking butcher home but to wait up for you when you got back to the motel. then began the most uncomfortable drive of your life.

an apology was on the tip of your tongue but every time you stole a glance at the man, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. you suddenly remembered why you were angry before and refused to be the bigger person.

butcher was the same type of stubborn.

“how much have you had?” you broke the silence first, concern outweighing your frustration.

butcher didn’t respond, instead saying, “you know, i meant what i said earlier.”

you rolled your eyes and clutched the steering wheel to keep from swerving the both of you into oncoming traffic.

“some fuckin’ strategist you are. nearly had us all made like some right cunt.” he dragged his words out more than usual. he was intentionally trying to make you mad. he wanted to fight.

“what the fuck is wrong with you, butcher?” you snapped, the emotions from earlier flooding back to you. “all you’ve ever done for me was made me wonder if jumping off the top of vought tower would be better than being in the same goddamn room as you. old enough to be my fucking father yet you’re as immature as they come.”

butcher went quiet for a while, slowly looking over at you. “oh, is that it? does the little girl have daddy issues?”

you slammed on the brakes and put the van into park. you had arrived at butcher’s place. “we’re here.” you bit coldly.

butcher was well aware of your reasoning for going after the supes along with the rest of the boys. your parents were caught in the crossfire to a rather nefarious supe scandal when you were a child. you only uncovered the truth a few years back, the vigilante group and its original leader, mallory, becoming your saving graces and second family.

you helped the man up to his front door so that he didn’t fall. your job should have ended there and you should have gone back to the van but instead you followed butcher inside, much to his confusion.

“whaddaya want? i thought you said you’d be better if i’d just fucked right off.” butcher spoke with a taunting laugh as he tossed his keys onto his coffee table.

“you know,” you began, your fists tensing at your sides. you were about to start treading on paper thin ice, “i didn’t think it was because of my age, but i’m starting to think that’s it.” you said challengingly.

butcher peeled his long black coat off and shot you a strange sideways glance. “hell are you on about?” it took him a little too long to respond, even in his buzzed state.

you cocked your head. it seemed you hit the nail right on the head. if that weren’t the case, he would have immediately shut you down and struck up a new argument.

a dry laugh came from you. “what is it then? are you intimidated by how young i am? threatened?” you questioned. the daring tone in your voice as you stepped towards him made his eyes narrow.

“watch yourself.”

“there you go acting like my fucking father again. is that it? you like how young i am? you wanna be my daddy? you’re over twice my age and that gets you going, doesn’t it?”

“i’m warnin’ ya, kid.” his sharp tone cut clean through the rapidly building tension between you two and actually rendered you quiet. sure, butcher could be a right asshole but he never had snapped at you like this before.

he certainly never called you kid before, either.

it looked like you had him backed into a corner. you held his gaze, noticing how the alcohol in his system made him glance down at your lips a few too many times. you refused to be the one to prove him right so you stayed still.

you could smell the beer on his breath. he was pretty much unpredictable now. “how long, huh?” your voice cane out low and shaky. butcher looked up at you and tilted his head a little like he was daring you to keep going. “how long have you wanted to fuck me?”

butcher sneered down at you and you actually expected him to shove you away. but he didn’t. you were at a standstill. neither of you wanted to be the first to crumble under the tension, but it had to come to an end at some point.

after what felt like an eternity, butcher closed the gap. part of you thought that the hands that came to grab your jaw were meant to hit you and you tensed up when he suddenly kissed you. you made a grab for his wrists like you were going to defend yourself but once you realized his intention, you all but melted into him.

he overpowered you without question, his body pushing you back until your back hit the wall. you could taste the alcohol on his tongue.

his strong hands were all over you. running down your sides to grip your hips, then sliding back to squeeze your ass through your jeans. you moaned at the contact, your head tilting back to rest against the wall. he stole that opportunity to start making his way down the side of your neck. his rough beard tickled your skin and you squirmed under him, your fingers running through his hair to weakly tug at it.

“makes you tick, does it?” butcher’s gruff voice made your head spin. you could practically hear the smirk on his face when your hips subconsciously bucked against him. he knew all of that confidence you wore earlier was long gone.

it only lingered long enough for you to start undoing the buttons to his shirt, and he quickly understood the message. he hoisted you up into his arms, mumbling a curse under his breath when your legs hooked around his waist.

he was on you the second you hit his bed, enveloped in a messy kiss while you scrambled madly to get each other’s clothes off. something about the way he so swiftly helped you peel out of your pants and top made you that much more desperate to fuck him. his hands were so big and skilled, you found yourself staring at them with hunger in your eyes.

you rolled him over to straddle his lap, whining at the feeling of his bulge against your clothed cunt. only two thin layers of fabric stood between you. still, you rolled your hips slowly down onto him and got a sharp hiss from him. those same hands you craved came up to grab your hips.

“slow down, sweetheart,” butcher groaned. his eyes raked down your body. “fuckin’ fit little thing, ain’t ya? all sat nice ‘n pretty in daddy’s lap.”

a chill raked down your spine and part of you felt ashamed of how badly his words made your stomach flutter. it was probably the worst situation you could have ended up in. a twenty-two year old woman about to have sex with a man just over twice your age. the man who was supposed to be guiding you — teaching you in a dangerous field. the man who was supposed to know better than this.

you could care less about how wrong it was. the look in his eyes as you slid your bra off for him made up for it. his hands were rough as they played with your tits. it was clear that he was skilled, knowing exactly where to touch you that would have you pleading for more.

“stop fu—fucking around,” you snapped as threateningly as you could while butcher lazily stroked your clit through the front of your panties. his pace went tear-jerkingly rough for a moment and you sharply cried, “butcher!”

“have some fucken’ patience, love.” butcher taunted you, all while complying. he struggled to hide his own eagerness as he popped the stitches on the hip of your panties to get them off of you, ignoring your fiery complaints. “i’ll buy you new ones, quit yellin’.” he’d dismissed you absently.

in the meantime he hurried to free his cock, groaning the moment he started to run the leaking head through your slick folds. “look at ya. all worked up for me, ay?” the man teased, observing how red your face flushed. you were too tongue tied to argue with him, especially after he slid his thick cock into you without warning.

his hands locked around your hips, burying himself deep into you. you could feel him roll up against you, drawing a long whine from you. he offered you only a second to enjoy the fullness you felt before he dug his heels into the comforter and started to thrust up into you.

you grasped at his arms that were still at your sides for some leverage, your mind blanking. part of you was beyond irritated that you were letting butcher put you in such a position but every time the tip of his cock hit a visceral spot inside of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about it for too long. resisting against the viselike grip he had on your waist, you started shifting to match his slow thrusts.

“fuck, tight little cunt,” butcher hissed under his breath. the slight slip of his cocky demeanor gave you the upper hand now, so you started to set your own pace. butcher’s head fell back against the pillows as you started to bounce on his cock, bracing yourself on his chest. “that’s it, kid, keep goin’.”

you couldn’t help the moan that slipped at the nickname. it spurred you on. you ignored the burn in your thighs and worked yourself on his thick cock. tears pricked at your eyes, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

of all of the times you’d had sex before, nothing compared to this. to him. he filled you to the fucking brim, hitting all of the right spots and then some, knowing exactly how to get you going. part of you knew you should be hating this; fucking the man you considered your mentor. the man over half your age.

but you didn’t care. all you cared about was getting yourself off, pushing and pushing yourself as that coil in your stomach continued to tighten. butcher helped steady you when your pace began to falter, his thick fingers grasping your plush hips.

“c’mon, i’ve gotcha.” butcher coaxed you along. it hit you like a truck, stealing all of the air from your lungs and sending several tears streaking down your face. you felt him lift you up in your dazed state, and then you felt his load hit your stomach.

for a moment, it was quiet. both of you recollecting yourselves. butcher reached up to tuck your hair behind your ears. he kept asking if you were okay, likely because of the tear stains. it was a side of butcher you had never seen before. so caring and considerate.

even after you had fallen onto your back, slightly curled into his side, neither of you spoke for a while. then he cleared his throat. “ya know, i never meant to be so hard on ya.” he reluctantly admitted. “i just hate to see ya get hurt. you’re… you’re a kid, you shouldn’t be so wrapped up with us — with me.”

you listened. nodded understandingly. “i know, but it’s not like i have a choice. that’s how it was at first. but now… i’ve come this far. i’m comfortable with you guys.” you stopped yourself from rambling and getting too emotional. “sometimes i tell myself that my parents would be happy that i found people who take such great care of me. granted, they’d have hated you at first,” the sly comment earned a scoff from butcher. you laughed.

“but if i had to redo it all, i wouldn’t change anything.”

ending was a lil too soft for someone like butcher but i had no idea how to finish it so yea !

#kinktober 2024 #kinktober #the boys kinktober #the boys smut #the boys #billy butcher #billy butcher smut #billy butcher the boys #the boys billy butcher #the boys butcher #the boys butcher smut

197 notes · View notes

evolnoomym · 5 months ago

Text

Doctor’s Pet 💌

Doctor!Dave York x nurse!reader

Main Masterlist | Dave York Masterlist

Summary: You are young, pretty, single and an aspiring Nurse. He’s older, married, bored and a talented Doctor. What happens when the two of you collide?

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: no y/n, Sunny is back, (yes I have different named OC’s), forbidden relationship, cheating, power imbalance, the sort of Sugar Daddy vibes came out of nowhere, marriage issues, rough forceful sex, dub-con, readers being used, cream pie, secret affair, oral f receiving, ass eating (I guess), unprotected p in v, red lipstick, fighting, spanking, tears….If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: This is for @punkshort ‘s 1 year tumblr anniversary August Writing challenge, I got Doctor Dave York and this is what I came up with. The Gorgeous Moodboard is made by the beautiful @notjustjavierpena 💌💌💌

Shoutout to @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune for the dividers 🫶🏻

Big thank you to @fhatbhabiee @jennaispunk @notjustjavierpena @joelmillerisapunk for beta reading ❤️

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly ❤️‍🩹👌🏻

As a young nurse that just finished her exams you are at the lower end of the chain and Dr.York, with his many years of experience, is at the top.

Before you were assigned to him, you only heard of the imposing Doctor through rumors spread by others. It was always about him being a handsome, talented and dedicated man who is, on the other side, a menace to the ones working with him. He’s bossy, snappy, mean and overall, not a pleasant man.

Usually, everyone just accepts the fact that he’s a pain in the ass because of all the knowledge he can provide.

The other nurses also always talk about wanting to hit on him and fantasize about how hot the sex with a man like him must be.

Doctor York is a tall, broad-shouldered, magnificent man with huge hands. He is clean-shaven, has a prominent nose, big brown eyes, dreamy lips and gorgeous brown hair with grey streaks.

You can admit that he’s a sight for sore eyes but from what you’ve been told the man has been married for more than 20 years. When he got married you weren’t even born yet.

Once you were told that you’d be working closely with him for the next two years, your friends expressed their jealousy and also their condolences. They told you that he would probably make you quit since you are one of the sweetest nurses in the hospital.

However, it surprised you when Doctor York was nothing but kind to you. He never yelled at you, never humiliated you during rounds when you didn’t know the correct answer, and never treated you like something below him but rather an equal.

The others started calling you two the dream team. Each shift you had with him felt like a blessing, no other doctor could compare to his finesse.

The relationship was strictly professional. Even when he allowed you access to his office library of incredible books about medical procedures, it was still very professional. When he started eating with you in his office whether it was breakfast, lunch, dinner or a midnight snack, it was still professional. When he kicked names of lists for important medical lectures just so you could have a spot, it was still professional. Even when he had his hand sneakily placed on your precious butt at the dinner party for the higher-ups, which you only had access to because of him, it was still professional. Even with his wife being right there.

That however changed one night when it all boiled over.

Your shift had ended an hour ago. You’d been waiting for Dr.York in his office since he always offered to take you home. Tonight, he apparently had something important come up which made him late but you didn’t mind.

You just walked around his office, sat in his big expensive-looking leather chair, scrolled endlessly on your phone, and browsed through his private library.

You remember it like it was yesterday that you were taking in all the stunning-looking books when the office door roughly got pushed open and there, he was in all his heaving galore, Doctor Dave York.

He looked like an animal with his ragged breathing, his eyes wide open, his jaw clenched hard as well as his fists.

You watched him close and lock the door. Before you could even ask what was going on he already pounced on you.

In no time he was right in front of you, crowding you against the bookcase.

In a split second he grabbed your face, pressing his lips on yours, kissing you with fever. It took you a moment to catch up with the situation at hand and once you did, you started kissing him back. His hands, those big paws, were all over you; on your face, your neck, your shoulder, your waist and your luscious hips.

He pulled away but only to drag you towards his big oak desk and bend you over the edge.

With your cheek squished against the surface, you could hear his huffed breathing behind you and felt his hands drag down your scrubs.

He just kept mumbling about how he needed you and that he would make it good. You just trusted him since he was your mentor and he knows best.

He admired your underwear as if it was chosen specifically for him. Kneeling behind you, he rubbed his cheek over your ass, squeezing and kneading you.

He dragged down your soaked thong and shoved his face between your legs, licking from your clit to your puckered hole and back. He ate you out like a man starved.

You had to place your palm over your mouth to muffle the intense moans trying to leave your mouth. He was doing a phenomenal job, licking broad stripes across your wet slit, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. Flicking the slender tip of his tongue on your puckered hole, stuffing it in your clenching pussy and slurping the sweet nectar of your arousal straight from the source.

He had you coming in no time.

That was all the preparation you got. Shortly after the orgasm subsided, he turned your limb body over and settled in between your wet thighs. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his impressive length. He dragged his cock over your slippery folds and slapped his tip on your clit.

He doesn't even ask about protection. Dr.York clearly didn’t care when he pushed his entire length into your warm tight hole.

He set a fast pace and if he didn’t have a bruising grip on your hips, you’d surely be pushed right off the table by the sheer force of his thrusts.

When you were almost there, he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“You - got - the - tightest - pussy - on - this - planet,-“ he punctuated each word with a hard thrust, “…ahhh, ah…ah, fuck, it’s so, so good baby. Your tight little cunt is taking me so well, exactly what I needed today.”

But he was not done yet; “I’m gonna fill you up…Hmmm, wouldn’t you like that Princess?”

All you could do was nod, which was all the consent Dave needed before thrusting even faster.

“Pull up that fucking shirt and show me those sugar-tits, you slut.” He made the decision for you when you didn’t react quickly enough. He grabbed the hem, shoved it up under your chin and pulled the white lace covering your tits to the side, so he could start running his fingers over your nipples, pinching and pulling them. The extra stimulation pushed you over the edge and when you clenched around him he immediately started spilling his hot cum inside you while huffing like an animal. Once he collapsed on top of you, he started whispering soothing words into your ear.

“Shh,shh, Princess, you're alright, you did so good. Took it like a champ, my little Sun.”

That was the breaking point. Nothing was professional anymore. The next months were filled with forbidden meetups anywhere possible. Sometimes, he fucked you in his car. Sometimes, he ruined you in his office. He learned where you live from the Personal data files and surprised you with take out, a bouquet of red roses and later fucked you on your bed. After a while, there’s no surface left in your apartment that hasn’t been used. You were in such bliss that you didn’t even worry about how he found out where you live.

In those following months you learn that his marriage has been crumbling for a while. Dave is unhappy and the fights keep getting worse. When he fucked you in his office for the first time, he had just been on the phone with Carol, having another screaming match. You became a way of releasing all of the tension and anger she caused him.

In the beginning, you came to a mutual agreement that it would be nothing serious, but with time neither of you could really deny that it was not casual sex anymore.

He took you away on little trips whenever both of your busy schedules allowed it.

He showered you with Gifts ranging from a new plant, lingerie, perfume or Jewelry to a new car. He had money and he wanted to treat his sunshine the right way. How Mrs.York didn’t catch onto anything going on was a mystery to you.

The gifts, however, were not enough. You wanted him to yourself completely, officially and for everyone to see, leave marks all over his thick neck, scratches on his back when he was fucking you, leave your smell all over him, and have pictures of you together on his desk instead of his wife.

You should have felt remorse for Carol for taking away her husband, the love of her life, but you didn’t. If it was wrong then why did it feel so good?

Lately, you’ve been irritated with Dave. He keeps telling you how he will leave his wife but he never does. He keeps saying that he needs more time and that a divorce will take time.

As you stand in front of the closest in his office, you think back to earlier when you were making out with Dave and he totally flipped out because of something so insignificant.

You wore the red Chanel lipstick he bought you, the one he asked you to put on, and then suck his cock until the red color was smeared everywhere. Yeah, that one. You jokingly pressed your lips to his white shirt collar and immediately got shoved away from him.

“What the hell, Sunny, are you serious? Why would you do this?”

His face was flushed from all the anger coursing through his veins. You could see how he clenched his jaw as he pointed towards the red mark you left, something he will certainly not get out of the fabric unless he wanted to explain to Carol what happened.

“Are you kidding me? Dave, you’ve been saying for weeks how you’re gonna separate and yet here we are, still hiding. I don’t wanna be a secret anymore.”

You smiled somewhat sinisterly while you walked up behind him as he was standing at the sink in his office bathroom, “I want her gone. You’re mine.” You slide your hand around his waist and towards his crotch to squeeze his hard bulge.

Dave, however, is still pissed, so he pushed you off again, “Sunny, get the hell out of here. Now!” His loud booming voice made you jump and obey immediately as you walked out.

You are still mad that he would blow up at you about such a minor thing. You feel like being petty. Dave has a closet filled with at least ten spare shirts - well, after your earlier actions it’s only nine left - and you plan on ruining all of them.

One by one, you take the smooth, clean white linen shirts of the individual hangers and place them in your lap as you sit down in his massive chair. Methodically, you apply the lipstick and start pressing your lips all over each shirt until there’s only one left unscathed.

When you are just about to press your lips to the last one, the office door swings open and you immediately jump up.

Dave is back earlier than you expected. His eyes take in the scene before him and he looks livid, eyebrows knit together, jaw clenched and his gaze sharp when he addresses you with a low and intimidating voice, “Sunny, you better explain yourself before you get in serious trouble.”

You just give him a half-hearted shrug as you look away from him.

“Fuck you Dave.”

You roll your eyes and a smirk slowly grows on your face. You quietly giggle as you turn away from him and pick out the scissors he keeps in his desk drawer. You start humming happily as you cut up the last shirt while he’s watching. Once you’re done you throw the fabric cuts at his face.

“Sunny I swear, if you don’t apologize right know on your fucking knees, we-“ You cut in immediately with two simple words that set of a chain of events: “Make me.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s toe to toe with you, towering above you and ripping the scissors from your grasp to throw them away.

“You’ve made a fucking mistake, little Sun, I’m gonna make you apologize.”

As you roll your eyes up at him, his hand shoots out again to grab your throat in an iron grip.

“You know, Sunny, when I first saw you, I thought you were a sweet Angel but turns out, you are just a bratty cunt that can’t get enough.”

You try to shake your head but his grip is unrelenting, so you have no chance to disagree.

He eases up and spins you around, shoving you face-first over the desk like a déjà vu from the first night all those months ago.

With one hand, he holds you down and with the other, he tears your pants and panties over your ass and down your legs.

He delivers relentless blows to your cheeks left and right till your tears start spilling down your cheeks. You don’t even think about screaming, he wouldn’t stop anyway and you know that it’s deserved. You just bite down on your lips until you’re almost bleeding.

“D..Da..Dave, please!”

You mumble through tears. You know that he enjoys seeing you cry; it is evident by the warm bulge pressing into your bruised cheeks from behind.

“What was that baby,huh? Speak up, little one?”

He starts grinding into you gently, rocking his hips into yours.

“Please, please. I’m sorry, please.”

You are getting more and more desperate, even starting to whine when he starts pulling away.

“Shhh, Sunny, be a good girl for me, okay? You wanna be my good girl, don’t you.?”

It’s incredible how he goes from being mean and degrading to being sweet and loving.

You can hear how he unzips his pants and soon, he is behind you again, slowly dragging his leaking tip through your folds.

“Hmmm, baby, she’s crying just like you. She enjoyed that, didn’t she?” He starts laughing.

The head keeps catching onto your entrance which is pulsating and gushing.

“Dave, pleaseeee, put it in, please.”

“Are you gonna apologize?”

It took you a moment to gather yourself.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry, I ruined your shirts.”

“Good job, baby, now was that so hard? You need to have more patience, Sunny.”

“Yes, Dave.”

“Nah- ah ah.”

“Yes, Doctor York.” He enjoys displaying how superior he is to you.

And then he pushes into your quivering pussy. At first, he does it slowly but once half of his length has disappeared inside of you, he decides to shove himself into you in one quick thrust, filling you to the brim.

“Ahhh…y..y yes, Doctor York, ughhhh. Fuck me harder.”

“What’s the magic word, princess?”

“Please, please, harder Doctor York.”

He immediately picks up his pace, your combined labored breaths and the slapping of skin filling the office.

You are convinced that you will wake up tomorrow with bruises on your hip bones from hitting the edge of the table repeatedly.

“Are you close, baby?”

Your pussy answers for you, tightening around his cock.

“Yes, she is, I’m gonna fill you up, okay, Sunny?”

You weakly nod with your face smashed against the smooth wooden surface.

His hand slips between your thighs and rubs your clit with quick stripes that have you unraveling in no time.

“Da..Dr.York I’m gonna come. I’m cumming, don't stop, don’t stop.”

You have to clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle the pending moans.

“Yes, baby, come on my cock. Come on, Sunny, be a good girl and come for me.”

With his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly, his fingers drawing circles on your clit, and his Dirty words combined, Dave pushes you over the edge.

Your thighs instinctively want to close but he shoves them back open, harshly fucking you through your orgasm. Your cunt tightens around him so beautifully that he can’t resist any longer and starts coming deep inside of you.

“Take what I give you, Sunny, you take it all and keep it inside, okay? To remind you of who you belong to.”

He leans over you, his chest brushing against your back. Dave nuzzles into your neck and leaves soft kisses on your throat, behind your ear and on your slightly exposed shoulder.

You relish in the warm feeling filling you.

“Thank you Dave, I love you.” You whisper in daze.

“I love you too Princess.”

Npt: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelmillerisapunk @joelslegalwhre @guiltyasdave @sizzlingcloudmentality @yorksgirl @vivian-pascal @mountainsandmayhem @msjarvis @sawymredfox @thundermartini @axshadows @strang3lov3 @missyorkswhore @littlemisspascal

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

#dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #dave york #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #shortieswritingchallenge #writing challenge #Doctor Au #dave york x female reader #dave york x reader #dave york equalizer 2 #My writing #Mina writes

231 notes · View notes

kafkasmeow · 7 months ago

Text

1 ꗃ A FAMILIAR TUNE

imagine! 7.2k words worth of slow-burn ─ dan heng x reader ─ second pov fem! reader ─ angst and fluff ─ father! jing yuan (strictly platonic) ─ i treated the reader more as an oc, i do apologise for that.

summery ─ leaving home was one of the hardest choices you’ve ever had to make, yet how could you stay when the life you lived could only ever bring you sadness and superficiality?

aka dan heng x reader with mommy and daddy issues

disclaimer ─ this story may hold sensitive subjects such as mentioned death, neglect and the baggage that comes with it, mental illness, violence, harassment and talks of infertility. it has a very long introduction (my bad lol), a rather steamy end and takes inspiration from the original story line so be careful of spoilers and it was inspired by head-canons written here by @lyomeii , please go show some love. remember that this is a work of fiction and any names and characters written are my imagination alone. enjoy <3

taglist ─ @can-i-go-to-sleep-please ─ @can-i-stay-awake

There was a time when things felt easier, when the sun seemed to shine brighter despite the overwhelming shadow that was always cast on your family. You used to love the deep smell of green tea that enveloped the parlour each time the two of you took residence in it, and the wind that would swirl it around the whole of the office all while you laughed without a single care at the way it tugged your translucent shawl and hair.

Jing Yuan adored that sound more than anything, it filled his heart with the warmest of contents yet the cruelest of longings. He would sip quietly on the tea you’d brewed for him and pretend to enjoy the frivolous moment with his eyes closed, but you both knew that when you looked away, another story would be told completely.

Perhaps in reality, the sun never shined brighter than it seemed to and it was never easier to stomach. You were just too naive, too young to notice the thin cords bringing you and your father closer, and too ignorant to see the way they were slowly beginning to rip under the pressure.

To the public eye, your father loved you more than anything in the world, that was no news to anyone atop the Xianzhou Luofu. You’ve always worn the most expensive silks to have ever been created, with the richest of accessories and jewels. Whenever a new Hanfu dress would reach your hands, he would parade you on the busiest streets himself, making sure everyone and their mothers would talk about it by noon the next day.

He made sure you always had the most able and knowledgeable professors at your call, and if you ever needed anything, all you’d have to do is ask to whomever was closest to you at the very moment, and it would be fulfilled within seconds. Sometimes you didn’t know if the servants did it out of admiration for your father or obligation.

Jing Yuan made sure you never needed or wanted for more. Materially, that is.

And things were bound to change as you grew, especially as he cruelly presented you to the scrutiny of high society.

You quickly grew to understand that it was his way of apologising, like a crow that would chip away at your skin then bring you trinkets of appreciation. When you sat and listened to some woman criticise that your dress was too frivolous for the event, too out of fashion for society and that none of your jewels matched, he did not do much but smile and pat your shoulder.

“Little [Y/n] will learn from your kind advice.” He assured her, but you barely held in a snort of frustration. When the other women joined in, when they begun pulling at your hair to adjust it, when they hit your hands with their fans as you purred tea for not angling your elbows right, when they shamed you as the hall hollered with laughter, he watched and smiled, so you took a deep breath and smiled back to everyone around you too.

Later that very evening he found you with tears running on your cheeks, a box of red and gold velvet in his hands. Your father did not speak, nor did he show much emotion on his face and it angered you. You wished to yell, to protest for the fact that he had not jumped to your defence, but as you opened the box, all protests died on your lips and the tears stilled, hands shaking at the most beautiful jade hair pin you’ve ever seen.

But his gifts stopped making up for his emotional absence around the third time it happened.

And you knew they all watched you like a hawk. Every move you’d make before the higher ups would be analysed on a scale of “good enough” or “weak” by none other than your father’s so called friends, while every single gesture before the public was like pulling needles off your skin. Yesterday you wore your Hanfu scandalously low on your cleavage, today you didn’t say thank you when the guard accompanying you opened up your parasol, tomorrow you won’t hold your tea cup quite right and so on.

Usually it was easy to ignore.

But that was before the daughters of the noblest of houses would begin to alienate you for shallow reasons, and before the sons of each commissioner would size you up as nothing but easy stock to win over, an easy marriage in the pocket, or so they thought.

It was easy for them to have the audacity to criticise you to your face or try to win you over, after all, you were nothing but a spoiled brat who’s never heard no for as long as she’s lived. Surely, you’ve never faced a single hardship, so the public felt righteous enough to scold you into it while for those within you were noting but a charity case.

So you tried to learn all you could, so you’d never feel as less in front of others ever again. Since the very evening of your debut, you insisted on having a book under your arm, a needle in your hand, a sword at your hip, or a qin in your lap while tea cups simmered on a table. It felt easier to overlook the loneliness when you did. You found that after a certain age, it felt comforting even to worry about making it in time to granny Hua’s qin lessons while leaving the swordplay hall behind, rather than sit pretty in a room and wait all day for your father to finish his duties as a general. There was no more room at social events for rude interventions, and no more room in your mid for uncomfortable questions to ask while doing so, really.

But you couldn’t avoid them for an eternity, that was for sure. And neither could Jing Yuan, for even in tranquil moments when peace had the taste of green tea and the smell of fresh air after rain, your twinkling eyes were still a carbon copy of how hers were.

In the better of these days, your father would pretend to laugh at a joke you made, while you pretended to be satisfied with his reaction. You’d move a piece on the xiangqi board with elegant hands and chatted about the latest passage you read in a philosophy book, and he hummed in agreement while placing his own piece down. A cleverly crafted strategy to his own defeat, one that you felt content with following despite the fragile shame that came with it.

It was a play you both excelled at most, after all.

At the worst of it all, you can’t understand his harsh voice as he yells “That is enough, [Y/n]!” while slamming his tea cup on the table. The whole room would shake at his warning, but your hunger for answers was much stronger than any fear, so you really can’t understand his fury when you yell back “Father! It is not!” He look at you with sorrow in his heart and his eyes were twisted by a pain you’d never understand, as he could only see her in you.

“I will not have this conversation with you!” He’d warn again, but you took it as an invitation to push even further. “I don’t know the first thing about my mother, Jing Yuan! Her name? Never heard of it. Her face? Never seen it. Do you not think it is cruel, father?” Hot tears streamed on your perfect porcelain cheeks, smearing the red eyeliner you had painted on. “No one ever speaks about her to me, everyone refuses to. But they all look at me like I’m some kind of…” Your voice trailed off with hard puffs and sobs. “Like I’m some kind of…”

His own chest puffed and the sight of you felt like a stab to his heart. You couldn’t get your words out, you didn’t need to really. People constantly looked at you in one of two ways, no matter how perfectly you’ve learned to craft your smiles, or how good your tea brewing had became, you were either a charity case they’d pity, or a spoiled brat that knew none of what the real world would offer.

But despite all of his anger, he was still your father, and as much as he loved to punish himself trough you, he still held back the need of snapping the heads off all of their shoulders. He would reach for the back of your neck with his hand, bringing you into his chest in a half hug. “You are enough. Never forget that.” He’d kiss the crown of your head and inhale the floral smell of your hair. It grounded him, even as you screamed into his chest and pushed him away, his grip stayed firm until you’d shed your last tear and you cried your last sob.

Because despite of how much you hated to admit it, you were living and breathing for his approval, which you seemed to never ever gain.

Unbeknownst to you, everything about you was just like her. Your face, your hair, even the way you wore your Hanfu a little out of place with the shawl falling all over the floor when you walked, or your mannerism as you spoke with a tiny accent on your tongue, it was all her and nothing of his except the mole under your left eye. You’ve never met her, he tried to reason. You’ve never seen her or heard of her deeds. Your mother has been an enigma to you ever since you could remember things, and yet the world punished him with her perfect copy in you when he tried to push her memory away the most.

It felt bittersweet. To the outside eye, general Jing Yuan adored his daughter more than anything else in the world. But underneath the jewellery, there were unaddressed feelings, each pearl you wore for people on the Central Starskiff Heaven to see was a tear unshed, each new dress was a silent apology they’d never hear, each loving promenade you’d have with your father was there to hide for the public a question you asked when the cord was too tensed. One of these days it would snap in half, you were sure of it.

So who could blame you when it all overflowed? When you could no longer smile in the face of those who envied you and when your father’s emotional absence felt like a hallow painting of what should have really been? When the dresses and the jewels weren’t smothering the pain any longer?

You felt it daily, building up, pressing down, tugging at your smiles until they became frowns and empty stares, and your ever growing depression was evident for anyone that roamed the gardens outside your window at night, as your qin carried into the world the saddest tune your heart feared to voice. And this time, not even a Hanfu made out of golden thread would ease your pain.

“So, say you, general,”

Your father hummed back to the woman before him as he placed his piece down on the board. Another noble nodded in agreement with his choice behind him. You saw them all from where you were sitting, fingers strumming the qin in a delicate tune for the whole room to enjoy, while gin purred from flasks and laughter echoed somewhere in the back. It wasn’t like you to agree partaking in parties like these, but how could you turn Jing Yuan down when he asked you to serenade him at the event?

“I would say you’d want to keep your daughter closest to you, am I not right?” The wicked tone in the noble’s voice made you shiver underneath the silver shawl that draped off your shoulders. “Quite so I fear, why is that?”

“Well, I hoped to reach you when I first heard the news, but I was quite busy, yous see?” The woman, an esteemed elder of the Artisanship Commission, hid her face behind what was possibly the most obnoxious fan you’ve ever seen, and your fingers became stiff on the metal strings of your trusted instrument. “Pardon me?” The general stilled his movements on the xiangqi pieces while the chattering went quiet. Nothing but your trembling notes filled the air.

“You know, I wished to give you my deepest condolences the moment I heard. For your daughter’s… unfortunate situation, that is.” Confused, Jing Yuan tilts his head to where you stood, only to be met with the same questions on your face that you desperately tried to drown as you played your melody. He chuckled awkwardly, then, and returned his attention on the game. “I fear I don’t know what you’re going on about, ma’am.”

“Ah… You know, the fact that your daughter is unable to bear children has quite saddened us all. I was looking forward to sending my son as a potential suitor!”

If eyes could kill, you would be sure that the place where the woman stood would have become scorched dust. An involuntary scoff left your lips loud enough to draw attention, but you pretended to be engrossed with tuning your qin before beginning to play another piece for the hall.

“And where have you heard such news, I wonder?” But she held no fear in her eyes.

“Well, for one, everyone in high society talks about it! You see, your daughter is already past the age of accepting suitors yet has never even been seen with a man, so people assume. That being said I personally was told so by a doctor that works under you, your grace.”

‘Lies’, you told yourself, but it was not enough to cool the blush you had on your cheeks from embarrassment, no matter how much you have been shamed by the public eye, nothing could compare to this very moment now.

“Is that so,” Your father trailed off, then placed his piece on the xiangqi board. “Well, from what I know, your son is welcome to send in his suitor application, for my daughter is more than healthy and cared for. In fact, now that I think about it,” But you didn’t wish to hear any more.

With a sudden move, you jumped from your seat to your feet and rushed to gather the qin underneath its silk cloth. The commotion drew attention to you, and so murmurs begun filling your ears which only fed your ever growing shame. “Please excuse me.” You voiced as you bowed deeply to the room of lords and nobles, then picked up your instrument and hurried to the exit with a strained “Please enjoy the rest of your evening.”

And you hoped that would be the last you’ve heard of it all, but as fate wanted it, that was far from how things would play.

“Father! This is ridiculous!” You protested. For all reason and purposes, it really was.

Not even a full day after what happened, he invited you to serve tea with him in the parlour. You found it odd, as he never requested your presence on Tuesday afternoons, but did not complain as you stepped into the room with haste.

He took his time finding the courage to face you, and when he understood he would not be able to deliver the news to you with a straight face, he pushed a stack of paper to you without even meeting your eyes. There, in red ink, was your fate sealed by a simple signature. An agreement that had been made without your knowledge or permission, and a wound that would become the reason for the demise of cord that held your family together.

Marriage certificate.

No one knows what was truly discussed that night in the evening, but what was known was that you’ve fled with tears in your eyes and anger on your face. And for better or for worse, that would become the last time anyone on the Xianzhou Luofu had seen you under the identity of the general’s daughter, for you found no more room in your heart for the pain that followed with it.

“You know, when you put it like that, I do think that green works best with coral!” March eagerly nodded her head, while Dan Heng took his time analysing Himeko’s theory. You and welt only listened to the conversation with one ear, while the other was being filled with questions over questions from Stelle.

“I don’t believe that’s a wise move.” You chirped as Welt placed the piece down, and you followed with a quick movement that gained you his general. He groaned and pushed his glasses up away while massaging the bridge of his nose. Stelle wowed and wood at your victory, and March leaned from her seat across the express’ parlour with a “really?” look in her eyes.

“You lost again, M. Yang?”

“I swear I’m good at this game.” And you chuckled while placing the pieces back into their pouch. “Used is a keyword.” March continued to tease while everyone watched your movements, which, weirdly, felt more calming than before your time on the express. In truth, it was because they never snickered underneath their palms and never cherry picked your posture until you’d get it wrong.

That being said, you could only care for one person’s eyes alone, and his stare felt like electricity on the back of your neck.

“How did you learn to play like this, anyways? You’re like a mad genius at these.” Stelle intervened, and you couldn’t help but shiver as your father’s knowing eyes came into your mind. “Ah…” was all that escaped your lips, before you cured your pained expression in a calm and lovely smile. “My father taught me how to play. He always made it so I would win, though. Therefore, for the longest time I believed I was quite bad at it too.”

Your voice felt like crystal in the quiet room, so quiet and soft to the ear that it was more akin to a melody than a spoken sentence. You never truly talked about your home, never about your family of your past, which is exactly why your friends turned to you with a cocktail of shocked expressions. Despite how polite and proper you always were, whenever someone asked about it, you would have the coldest glare thrown their way, sure, involuntarily, but scary nonetheless, and with time the crew learned to not ask about a past you so much wished to hide.

Despite that, they never judged you for any of it, not even when your friendship has been tried over and over by your cold heart. You were never outright rude per se, but distant hit the nail in the head best. When Himeko would extend an invitation to a “coffee party” for the crew as an example, you refused with a polite smile that felt ripped out of etiquette teaching picture books, saying you prefer tea instead.

She feared you’d be left out, you feared being the centre of attention.

“I believe I’ll head in for the day.” You spoke after finishing to arrange the xiangqi pieces on the board. March left out an “Oh…” and you could hear the sad face in her voice. Amongst the others, she was the saddest when you chose to sit the Xianzhou Luofu out, as ever since your addition to the crew, you never turned down an adventure. You explained that your bones hurt from the cold of Jarilo-VI and that you needed a rest, and with Stelle at their side, you were sure they would have no problems getting trough this one trail-blazing adventure. Sure, it was a bit of a shock for Himeko and Welt, but to March? It was a tragedy. Her new bestie leaving her behind? She swore the world would end.

“Please, have a safe journey and a swift return.”

You nodded your head their way before picking up the xiangqi game and reaching for the door. Your fingers grazed the digital pad just in time to hear Dan Heng’s voice behind you. “I will do the same, didn’t quite finish storing the data bank after Jarilo-VI.”

And so you ended up side by side, walking trough the corridors of the Express. However, as you stepped past his make-shift room, you found his steps synced with yours still and, confused, you turned to face him and painted one of your signature smiles. Fake but pretty all the same.

“Can I help you, Dan Heng?”

It was exactly that cold yet perfect, more-like-a-painting-than-an-actual-human attitude that made Dan Heng distrust you from the moment you stepped on the Express. You left everything to speculation in a way in which even your clothes were a mass of black and colourless, without any culture behind or any story at all to tell. Always in a bland attire with no accessories at all. March made fun of you for being so tasteless, but he saw past the appearance. He saw past the way you acted and into the way you wilded your swords like cranes flying in the wind, the way you prepared and steeped tea, and the way you handled xiangqi and go pieces like a native only could.

He peered into your eyes in a way that made you unravel before him without a single word, and he knew it was to hide a side of you that you’ve hidden deeply to the rest. But not quite to him.

And while he was trying to get over a sense of danger in you, fed by your secrecy, you found peace in his presence. Unbeknownst to him, he was the one thing that reminded you of home and the good in it despite it all. If your memories were filled with torment and loneliness, he was the smell of freshly baked red bean sticky rice cakes in the market, or the sound of wind chimes in the summer rain. He was all of the little things you wanted to push away but found comfort in, and you didn’t know if you loved it or hated him for it.

“Yes, actually.” He nodded. “I find I can’t sleep as of late and I wanted to try one of your calming brews.” You frowned at his words but gave in without asking much, which he greatly appreciated. “Very well, please join me for some tea tonight, then.” And silence settled between you two as you lead him to your cabin with unease rolling off your shoulders.

Your room was much like your clothes. Simple and colourless besides the coffer next to your bed, which was unmistakably made with the mastery of a Xianzhou artisanship. But if he noticed it, he didn’t speak on it at all, nor about the low table in the middle of the room that was in the same style, or… well really about anything. You appreciated that most. Even when you settled on the table a traditional set of cups, a clear tea spreading the most enchanting and calming aroma from them, he did not speak a single word.

As he drank, his eyes rested on your covered qin that sat atop your bed, and he did not need to speak for you to understand his intentions. You sat down quietly on the covers, revealing the simple instrument like a truth you’d usually hide from. And he couldn’t help but watch you with sadness in his heart as you tuned the strings with shaky hands ‘till crystal clear notes echoed trough the room.

You took a heavy inhale and looked upon the dark ebony wood as if greeting an old friend before propping it on your lap, but couldn’t handle to meet Dan Heng’s eyes. At least not when he stared at you as if he knew every single secret you feared to tell.

As you raised your hands in the air, getting ready to pull at the string, his own palm engulfed your exposed skin in an unspoken plea, and you couldn’t help but give into his warmth. He pulled gently until your face was buried into his shoulder and his other arm was in your hair, and you didn’t even notice it when silent tears begun to stain the fabric of his coat. He didn’t protest nor ever addressed it, and you preferred the feeling of his body against yours to the coldness of his eyes on a normal day.

As such, you spent the evening together afterwords. Him silently sipping on the calming tea as the sorrowful yet comforting sound of the qin filled your bedroom, until there were no more tears to shed and the pot on the table had gone cold.

No one wanted to admit it, but it had to be said. Something changed between you and Dan Heng from then on and the first one to notice it was none other than March.

They were getting ready to leave the express when she stated it for the whole crew to hear.

“Is it me or are the two of you like, in love or something now?” She arched one of her eyebrows while her lips rested in a scowl. Now, don’t get her wrong she was more than happy for you two if it was the case, but what she could not stand for was the two of you ditching the adventure to enjoy a date over tea and qin music again.

“March, what kind of nonsense are you onto again?” You huffed with cherry red ears, while Dan Heng choked on the water he was previously drinking. All she could do was wave her hand while saying “yeah yeah,” over and over with a bored face before they set out on their way, but not before Welt pinned the two of you down with a knowing look.

The express stilled with their absence, reinforced by Pom-Pom who claimed to have some cleaning to do somewhere in the Express and Himeko who had some paperwork to finish. The parlour felt almost empty, despite Dan Heng’s presence right next to you. He still held his fist over his mouth as if preparing to cough, cheeks dusted pink and eyes on the starry sky before you, but he didn’t say a word about what happened. And something in you told you to follow his lead.

You ate quietly at the sticky rice cake you tried your hand baking, and although the taste was very different from what you remembered, it was still as good as ever. With a tissue all crumpled up in your hand, you resulted to watching the sky along side your new friend, eyeing the stars one by one as they passed by. Yet you found your eyes sliding lower and lower from the window to the man before you, who you found already watching you with wide eyes. As if caught in headlights, he stammered out an incoherent string of words but did not move his gaze, not even as his body leaned to yours until his hand grazed your chin.

You shuddered at his icy touch, but did not dare to move, not even as his fingertips reached for your lips. He gently wiped your lips then brought his thumb to his own mouth, licking off the excess red bean cream from the cake, and you were absolutely sure your face would explode from how hot it get in that very moment. “You had a bit,” He started, but his mouth closed shut when he noticed the dazed stare in your eyes. “Oh aeons, I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?” His voice shook and his own ears turned scarlet red, only now realising what he has done. You shook your head, head turning so you could focus on the floor as if the tiles below your feet were now the best sight you have ever seen. “Ah, not at all! I was just surprised, ‘tis all.” Your sweaty palm gripped the tissue tighter. “Would you like some?” And Dan Heng looked at the half eaten cake you extended to him with an expression you’ve ever seen him give March or Stelle. He stared at the cake in his hands with a wholehearted fondness. “Yeah.” Was all he could manage to whisper back.

And somewhere in the back, you swore you heard Himeko giggle to herself.

The same evening, you would hear three soft knocks on your door in the dead of night. There, in the hallway, with a sweat filled forehead and uneasy complexion, stood Dan Heng, and you would be a fool not to extend a hand to him when he begged for help with his tired eyes.

“Quit hiding!” The criminal’s voice rang trough your head like a broken mantra. “Your true form… reveal it!” Dan Heng did his best to dodge the maniac attacks, all while you and Yanqing stood in an awkward stalemate in the middle of the platform.

Your blade screeched against Yanqing’s, but it was like fighting fire with fire, simply useless. No matter how lowkey you’ve been upon reaching the Xianzhou, he needed one singular look to know exactly who you were, even underneath the mask that covered the lower half of your face.

“You, little..” You trailed off with effort. Despite his usual sense of justice, that you’ve always commanded, his attacks felt awfully biased as he strikes your blade repeatedly with his icy ones. His technique felt as familiar as home did, her teaching seeping in his bones trough and trough, but so did your father’s into yours, which you’ve had much more time to perfect than the little lapdog did.

“Move, you idiot!” And with one harsh push of your blade, the young boy was off his feet, giving you enough time to reach Blade before he could get any damage done on Dan Heng. You yelled with each strike you struggled to par, until his crazy red eyes widened in glee and his sword flew from his hands and right by your chin. The sound of your friend’s cry in agony and the blade tearing trough skin and bone made you pause, and horror struck you as you refused to turn around and to even acknowledge what had happened. “You!” Was all you could let out, sword still pointed straight to Blade’s neck.

“I have news for you.” He laughed, and you took a step back. You would lie if you said your insides didn’t churn with fear, even as he was left completely disarmed before you.

“Behind you… Is none other,” The sound of water engulfed your ears as your head snapped back. “Than the traitor of the Xianzhou. A criminal, forever banished!” Your eyes widened as the barrier around Dan Heng rippled, leaving a water-made dragon to escape with rage all over its face. It roared and turned in the air, coiling until it fell right back to where it came from, and when light and wind filled the platform, you couldn’t help but shield your form with your arms.

“The High Elder of the Vidyadhara… Imbibitor Lunae.”

The hold on your sword weakened. You shuddered as the man you grew so attached to revealed himself before you in a form you’ve recognised from your father’s tales. Long silky hair and cold green eyes, horns and tail and lotus flowers and everything that made the Vidyadhara so revered. You could hardly believe your eyes. With a weak step forward, you pulled at the mask to reveal your strained expression, sword falling to your side numbly.

“You really believed that the Stellaron Hunters were the only ones to infiltrate the Xianzhou?”

Cold air begun pulling at your hair, and you shook off your stupor when Yanqing begun summoning his ice swords. Your body acted before your mind did at the new threat and your sword was back up within seconds, posture ready for a clash.

“A wanted criminal, a banished person and a deserter. In this case, I will bring all three of you to justice!”

The fight ended before it could even begin properly. Yanqing was strong, but Jingliu’s teaching could only get him so far against the three of you. Blade begun striking without mercy, taunting you and Dan Heng for holding back. “What’s wrong, your grace? Scared to harm the boy?” The criminal laughed as you sent only one out of the spirit swords you summoned towards Yanqing. Flashes of electricity begun shining trough your hair with anger, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do more. Not even when Dan Heng delivered the final strike with a silent apology.

Yanqing’s knees begun to buckle just as Kafka yelled “All of you, listen to me - stop!”

You couldn’t help but stumble back, swords falling out of existence as Dan Heng’s feet stepped back on the floor and Blade’s weapon vanished before your eyes. “Well, Bladie? Are you satisfied?” She mused and he only hummed in response.

“…What did you do?” Dan Heng called after a moment of silence. “Just clearing the stage for the grand entrance. Can’t have the four of you misbehaving in front of the Luofu’s hotshot general.” Your shoulders stiffened as a familiar laughter filled the platform. All heads turned towards the sight, yet you stayed rooted on your feet, back turned and head shaking in denial. “No, not like this.” You whispered.

“Jing Yuan,” Blade huffed. “General!” Yanqing followed.

The man stared at the sighed before him with a knowing smile just as you got the courage to turn and face him. If he felt anything upon the sight of you, he did not show it. “Many years have passed since the three of you have departed the Xianzhou, and yet the circumstances of your return appear to be equally unhappy. If you still thought of me as a friend,” His eyes went straight to yours, unspoken words weighting you down as you found it harder and harder to breathe. ‘As family’ was what he wished to say, yet he held back. “You should’ve forewarned me.”

“My task is complete.” Was all the blade said. “Mhm. That it is.” Your father laughed in return. “Thank you for assisting the Xianzhou in this small matter. Take this person away, I will pretend I didn’t see anything this time.” He stated harshly despite Yanqing’s protest. Jing Yuan then stared at Dan Heng as the two Stellaron Hunters made their way to the boat at the edge of the platform. “It has been a long time, old friend.” But your friend answered harshly. “I’m not him.”

“Mh. I’m sorry. You cannot leave yet, however. Your astral express friends are still waiting for you in Scalegorge Waterscape. Shall we go and see them together? And you…” The moment you have been trying to prepare yourself for most had arrived, and your father’s smile died on his lips as his eyes analysed your face.

“I missed you terribly, my sweet flower.” Dan Heng stiffened next to you, but his hand fingertips grazed yours in protectiveness, to which you could only respond by accepting his palm into yours. The familiar nickname brought tears into your eyes, and despite the coldness of his face, your father’s voice felt like a familiar little tune you new by heart. Like a warm hug when you needed it most. How you wished you could’ve just forgotten it all and jumped into his chest, just like how you did when you were nothing but a sprout on two legs.

“That being said, we will continue this conversation later. I’m afraid your friends might be in trouble, you see.”

You didn’t know how time had passed so fast, more like a blur than anything, truthfully. Your eyes were opened wide on the platform between the Xianzhou and Scalegorge Waterscape, blade in hand and senses aware as you parred each of the attacks your way. Then you blinked, and when you reopened them, a familiar sight greeted you.

Three cups of steaming green tea on a low rise table, a board of xiangqi and pieces of go scattered all over the table. A sacred silence engulfed the room, besides the occasional sound of the chess pieces falling into place, and none of you could bring yourselves to shatter it just yet.

Dan Heng watched you play with patience while occasionally bringing the cup to his lips, now back into the form you grew so familiar with. You hated to admit it, but his presence comforted you. It gave you the strength to hold yourself together in a situation in which you would have certainly shattered if alone, and your father’s keen eye did not glass over that fact.

You sighed peacefully when your chariot was finally occupied in the middle of the palace, on your father’s side, in a perfect centroid checkmate. The man before you leaned back and sighed, a puzzled expression on his face. “You just had to go and get better than me at this game, did you not?” But you didn’t answer. You still didn’t know what to say, really. Were you feeling guilty for deserting your spot as a cloud knight? For leaving your father behind? Or for bailing on your responsibilities as his daughter? Well, no not quite, so apologising for it felt…strained and forced. But one thing felt real as your eyes met his and Dan Heng’s hand reached for yours across the table. You missed him terribly just as much.

“Every single day that passes shapes you more and more like her.” He added. “I wish you could’ve been by my side for them all.”

“Jing Yuan…” You whispered back, but he didn’t let you finish. “If your mother was here with us today, I assure you, my sweet flower, that things would have been so different.” For a moment, you could hear nothing but your heart beating against your chest.

“You are just like her. And I truly mean it. Your face, your personality, darn it all even the way you speak. And, as your father, I wish I could’ve offered you a better life.”

“You did all you could.” Funny how even now, you were the one to reach with a warm heart, how you were the one to comfort and forgive, even when his heart couldn’t yield.

“Not quite. I was foolish and believed that a firm hand would prepare you for the cruelty of the world. I failed to see, no. I failed to change when I saw that it was harming you more than anything.” You let out a sigh you’ve held in for a very long time and closed your eyes, a last attempt at holding in the tears you wished so disparately to shed.

“I love you, father. Nothing will ever change that. However,” Despite how your hand shook in Dan Heng’s, your voice stood firm, and as you opened your eyes, both men shivered at their determination. “An apology, no matter how needed, will never make up for what has been. If this is your way of asking me to stay, I fear I’ve made my choice.”

But his ever knowing smile was back on his lips, and his laughter caught you off guard. Your fingers tightened on Dan Heng’s fingertips, who had stayed quiet as you and your father voiced what both of you ever feared to before.

“You see, that was not my intention. That being said, if you ever did wish to return, there will always be room for you into my arms, my darling flower.” And you only nodded back, lips slightly parted in surprise.

“We should head out.” Dan Heng whispered to you after the tea had been finished and the conversation ended. He tapped the skin of your palm with gentle fingers, a quiet way of asking for your attention. His eyes were stricken with tiredness, and you doubted that yours were any better, excusing the puffiness brought by your tears.

“Ah yes, I forgot!” The general mused. “There is no need to return to that hotel for the night. I asked for your room to be prepared, for you and your lover here. So you could rest comfortably before leaving.” The moment could be best described by a broken record being pulled abruptly from its recorder and screeching in your head. You eyed Dan Heng who refused to meet your gaze and who’s ears became scarlet red once more. “Father!” You protested. “He- He’s not-”

“Save it, [Y/n]. At least invite me if you do ever get married.”

“Dad!” Shame engulfed you as you pushed Dan Heng out of the room all while the sound of Jing Yuan’s laughter taunted you from behind the doors of the seat of Devine Foresight. You couldn’t help but whisper muffled apologies into your hand that tried to shield your burning face from anyone that would watch, which in truth was as effective as searching for a needle in a haystack.

What you didn’t expect was for Dan Heng’s hand to find yours and move it away, revealing cherry red cheeks that matched his own. He cleared his voice before leaning in just enough for his breath to fan over your ear as your back met the closed doors behind you. “I would not mind if I was.” He whispered before his velvet soft lips rested against the exposed skin of the back of your palm. You were sure your knees would’ve given in if it wasn’t for his arm that hooked around your waist, bringing you so close to him you shuddered.

“I really would not mind it.”

Later that evening, as his teeth grazed your exposed skin before kissing it with sweet words of praise, as your hands intertwined and your bodies became one under the silk sheets of your bed, you could tell that your heart began singing a familiar tune. With each kiss from Dan Heng’s, a new feeling invaded your senses. You were home. Here with him, in this very moment. You were home in his arms.

And you wouldn’t changed it for anything else.

Yes, not even as March yells “I fucking knew it!” the next morning, for the whole of Xianzhou Luofu to hear, upon seeing your neck caked in love marks you had no means of hiding and your hand held tightly by Dan Heng, who only smiled back to everyone as you buried your face into his chest with shame.

251 notes · View notes

s-4pphics · 1 year ago

Text

click! finale (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep and black, parental trauma, self-worth issues, slight disordered eating, brief alcoholism and hypersexuality, heavy grief, pining but depressed

A/N: finally on break yaassss….. sequel? LOL

The air around you is strangling. You haven’t left your room in two days. You’re not passing this semester.

The room next to yours, however, is filled with life. Ellie’s back to blasting her music and banging on walls, but you have yet to cross paths. Not in class, not at home; You haven’t seen her. Pickle never hesitates to scratch at your door for hugs. And kisses. She’s brought you so much comfort, even in times where you feel like you’re undeserving.

Christmas is around the corner, and you’re alone. Amaya never shied away from taking you home for her breaks, but she’s gone. She hasn’t called in a while; You hope she’s doing okay.

So, you seek escape in a different way and do what you haven’t in a long time.

Tears flood your vision, your thumb hovering over a number you haven’t touched in ages. Your hands won’t stop trembling. You’re going to regret this. Your heart's already breaking into pieces at the heart and cloud emojis of the contact.

Soft paws knead your thighs and you kiss kit-kat’s tiny head as she nuzzles your chin. You’re trying to keep your sobs to a minimum, but they’re tearing your throat to shreds.

Your thumb comes down on the contact and the line rings. And rings… and rings until the dial tone sounds.

“At the tone, please record your message. When you are finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options.”

You knew no one would answer. No one ever answers, but still, you listen for her voice. The steadiness of her breathing. You take a shaky breath, “Hi, mom.” Mindless sentences pour out of you like a waterfall. You just sit there and allow Pickle to playfully bite your finger.

“I, uh… I’m not…” Another sob, “I’m not doing well.”

You would never say that if she were here. You always masked your true feelings for her sake; She never needed any additional stress.

Void images of your father reoccur in your memory, “I think there’s something wrong with me… I don’t think I’m a g-good person.” A barbed tongue affectionately licks at your finger, and you try to smile.

“I… We found a kitty in the snow,” You whisper, “She's the cutest thing ever.” Pickle looks up like she knows what you’re saying, and you weep at her delicate eyes.

“It was the weirdest thing…” You huff wetly, “It felt like you put her there to stop me from making a mistake.” More tears flood your shut eyes.

“I just miss you…” Your palm digs into your eye, “and I wish you w-were here. I’m not…” Pickle climbs to rest in your lap; You always did that with your mom for comfort. Another loud sob.

“I lov— “

You jolt at the loud dial tone, and the line ends. You drop your phone on your blanket and search around your room, the portrait of your mother standing tall on your desk. You need to make another one for her birthday.

Your eyes travel over your space, and for the first time, you don’t feel comfort. Your mind is racing with thoughts that expose your truth; They’re vile and dirty and they make you feel like scum. A disease walking.

The dark nights are restless and the days are silent, halls only filled with soft purrs and pattering paws.

Your home no longer holds the joy that it once did when Amaya was here. Excitement used to burst through you whenever she prepped your movie nights after work, the living room filled with laughter and corny love lines that made your stomach secretly twist with warmth.

You’re not happy anymore. Anxiety brews in you whenever you walk into the kitchen, the living room, go to feed and snuggle Pickle. It’s fucking miserable in here, and as difficult as it was for you to admit, it’s all your fault.

It’s almost finals week, and you’re nowhere near prepared. You can’t focus on anything except the treacherous silence of your space. It’s almost like Ellie’s already gone.

You should be anticipating her departure, antsy to have your space to yourself again, but your chest aches. This past month was anything but smooth, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. For some reason. Maybe it’s because you got to live your main character moment, even if it was just for a few hours.

Ellie, as much as you hate to admit it, deserves better. Just like how you deserve to spend your life alone, trapped and secluded with your own thoughts. She should want better for herself; Nothing is worse than being in your presence; Maybe that’s why you have no one.

You desperately want to do better for yourself, but you’re tired. Your mother would be so disappointed in you. You retire from wallowing and climb under the covers, Pickle clutched tightly to your chest. You hope she doesn’t mind the tears from your tee.

The portfolio is finished. Ellie can’t stop staring at the booklet enclosed in leather on her desk.

The online submission process was infuriating, mainly due to her laptop dying during the portfolio render, but it’s done. Her ticket into a life-changing position is no longer hers to judge; It can only go up from here.

All she needs is that phone call from the recruiting manager and it’s over. She’ll be in the city in no time. She’s excited and jittery; Every buzz from her phone is met with clenched hands and a sweaty forehead. Her disappointment heals when she sees her father’s classic thumbs up emojis surrounded by black and red hearts; Even from miles away, he knows when she needs support.

Ellie lays her forehead on the leather, sighing in relief for what seems like the billionth time. It’s a surreal feeling, relishing in accomplishments. She's never done it, mainly because her mother never wanted to acknowledge happenings she wasn’t the center of. Hearing congratulations is still a mindfuck years later.

… Your photos looked stunning. You’re made for this, even if you don’t believe it.

Ellie will never admit how much energy she put into editing those pictures, specifically the ones you’re in. She spent hours recoloring, scaling, sharpening those photos, and they turned out incredible. Probably some

of the best shots she’s ever taken, and you’re in the center. And your eyes… There’s so much light in those hazel specks.

Another mindfuck.

Whenever Ellie comes home, she checks the small space between the floor and door of your bedroom to see if you’re awake. If you’re alive. The relief she feels when she sees a lamp light or shadow eases the tension in her shoulders.

She never knocks, though. Never.

So why are you?

Ellie’s back instantly straightens at the soft pats on her door, heart pounding in her ears. You never knock.

She’s embarrassed at how fast she stands, chair nearly falling over as she flies to pull her door open.

She’s met with you; She hopes you can’t hear the shatters from her chest at the sight of your disheveled appearance. Your hair is matted and the brunette river in your eyes are surrounded by redness

“Sorry, I—“ Your voice cracks like you haven’t spoken in ages, “She was lying there and I felt bad. She missed you, I think.” She’s never heard you sound so tedious. You’re always the loudest, goofiest person in the room. Ellie’s brows furrow before following your line of vision. Pickle’s sleep in front of her door, curled like a cinnamon roll. Ellie sighs as picks her up as fluidly

as she can, trying her best not to wake her.

“You’re gonna have to take her when you leave.”

Devastation sets in your tone as you stare at the little fur ball, “Why?” She asks.

“My dad’s allergic.” You whisper.

Ellie peers down when Pickle stirs, “Is… is he visiting?” She asks, just as quietly.

Your head shakes, “I’m going home.”

Ellie does an impeccable job of hiding her shock. So many questions race in her mind: going home? Where’s home for you? Is it permanent? Are you moving out? When? Are you and your dad close?

You’re turning away back into your room, but Ellie blurts out before you can shut the door. “I finished my portfolio! It’s… it’s done. I turned it in.”

You turn, and your eyes are watery. Your smile is tiny, but genuine. “Congratulations,” you’re so quiet and your voice shakes. Ellie’s mind whirls, “They’re gonna love it.” You take one last look at Pickle, and your bottom lip wobbles. You shut and lock the door before Ellie can say thank you for helping me.

Ellie’s eyes lock onto the floor, watching your lamp turn off, ears honing in on the shuffling of blankets. She swiftly scurries inside her space when she hears crying.

Her chest concaves at the sobs echoing through the dark, silent halls. Through the thin wall as she sets the kitty on her favorite pillow to sleep on. She paces around her room and yanks at her pinky. How she wishes to be a fly on the wall; She wants to knock on your door so badly, but she doesn’t know what to say. How to comfort. She's always relied on her father for that.

So, she just listens with regret and makes her final decision.

If you move from this counter, you’ll faceplant into hardwood. You don’t like the blaringly loud song coming from above, so you down another seltzer. It’s distracting enough.

You feel yourself leaning forward, so you force yourself back up, practically flung over the counter. You’re never drinking again, you promise yourself. How many times has that one been broken? You don’t remember. You miss Ellie.

You’re going to fall again, but this time, you’re supported. And not by the counter. You instantly relax at the familiar scent.

Abby’s mumbling something about something, but it sounds like gibberish. You throw your arms around her neck, inhaling deeply; You miss Ellie terribly.

We gotta get you outta here. You frown; You don’t want to leave! The party just started!

Her strong arms wrap around your waist to maneuver you. You’re not sure where she's taking you, but you don’t fight. You simply allow her to snatch your heels off and carry you into the piercing-sharp cold. Just allow her to drag you to safety. You wish it was Ellie.

The world around you moves in a blur; The pace is making you dizzy. You don’t want to vomit in Abby’s car. When did she get a car?

“Abby…”

“Yeah, hun? You good?” She sounds so far away. Your mumbles are incoherent. She's so confused, so she asks you to repeat it.

You face her from the passenger seat with a sultry grin. You miss Ellie, “I missed you.” Your words are garbled and your hands are as loose as your tongue, shakily landing on her muscular thigh, massaging the skin.

Abby tenses with a sigh, planting a gentle hand on your traveling one. Her grip tightens when you try to move. “Did you really?”

That's your green light. Your smile grows as you clumsily unbuckle your seatbelt, “Stop… stop the car.”

Abby’s foot plants on the break, and you jerk forward. Like the night you found Pickle. Like when Ellie…

“What’s the matter?”

I miss my roommate. “I’m horny.”

Your friend scoffs and shakes her head. Either you’re too drunk or she’s disappointed… Not the reaction you were seeking. Your smile tries to fade, but you force the corners of your mouth back up.

“No, you’re not.” She snaps, and it takes you a second to catch it. Abby’s upset again. What the fuck did you do this time? Your facade finally falters. Now you’re irritated.

“How’re y… how’re you gonna tell me what the fuck I am?” You sound like a fucking idiot, but your rage ignites your slurs, “If you don’t want me, why’re you here!”

“Because you fucking called and I’m your friend! I didn’t wanna leave you by yours— “

“You should’ve!” Your shriek is piercing; You’re shocked the windows didn’t shatter and slice you both.

“That’s how you fucking feel? Really?”

You try to swallow tears, but they flow. The words you want to say are on the tip of your tongue; Thank you for coming to get me. I’m sorry for being awful. Don’t leave me by myself.

But none of them escaped. They sit and rot in your throat. You’ve never seen Abby so…

And she doesn’t let up, “Now you wanna cry? Are you serious?” There’s fire in her eyes; It burns in a way you’re not used to, especially not her, “This victim shit is getting very old— “

“I don’t care!”

“I don’t fucking care, either! If you wanna keep getting used like a piece of meat by random bitches, then do that! Leave me the fuck out of it!” Abby slams her hand down on the armrest, and the car doors unlock, “Matter of fact, get the fuck out!”

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck YOU! Get out! Get the fuck out!”

Curses and heated exclamations leave the two of you until you wobbly exit the vehicle, slamming the door as hard as your brain would allow. The wind blows like tacks, stabbing through the skin of your bare arms and chest. Abby zooms off, and you scream.

You dig in your pocket for your phone, ineptly dialing Ellie’s number. It’s fucking one in the morning

“… Hello?” She was asleep. Your heart eases at the steadiness of her tone.

You’re shivering, “… E—Ellie?”

“Hm?”

“I’m… I’m really cold and I don’t,” sob, “I dunno where I am— “

“What do you mean?” She asks abruptly, alert. Your heart flutters.

You whimper, “I’m lost, I don’t… I’m a bad person— “

“Send me your location. Where’re your keys?”

“I— I don’t remember— “

“Are you drunk right now?”

“Yes,” You mumble meekly. This is so fucking embarrassing.

Ellie sighs heavily, “Just… Is there somewhere you can wait until I get there?”

You search through tears, finding mostly dark retail stores and restaurants across the street… Except Jack in the Box! The munchies hotspot never fails you.

“There’s a Jack in the Crack over there.” You point like she can see you. She snickers softly.

“Go, then. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Wait! Don’t… don’t hang up, please, I’m scared— “

“I wasn’t going to.”

You closely listen to the shuffling on the other line as you wobbly trek across the street. You sharply inhale at every slip and stumble on your journey, almost sobbing through every confirmation to Ellie’s small are you okay?

You finally make it inside and thank God that it’s warm. You take a seat and sigh at the familiar jingle of keys.

“You in there?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m coming, send me where you are.”

“K.”

It takes you longer than it should’ve to get her the location thanks to the Casa in your system, but she’s on the way… You really want curly fries. Fuck.

You hate how your thoughts wander, self-loathing at the forefront of your lobe. You take after your father more than you thought: a filthy, lying train wreck. You’ve ruined every glimmer of hope, of positive influence around you, and you’re forced to bathe in the treachery you’ve created all over again.

“Hey.”

You leap out of your seat at Ellie’s raspy tone, seeing your hoodie draped over her forearm and keys dangling in her hand. Your tummy growls when you wave. Ellie’s gaze softens. “Hungry?” She hands you the hoodie for you to throw on. You nod.

“What do you wanna eat?”

“… Fries,” you croak, “Curly, please.”

Ellie nods and waddles to the service counter. You watch her backside under her puffer as she pays and collects a small baggie and water before nodding towards the car. You follow close behind her in silence, munching on your snack.

The ride back home is silent, but for once, the air isn’t deadly. You’re eased back from your breakdown, and it’s definitely not due to the forest in your roommate’s vision.

You enter your warm apartment and get greeted with soft purrs, Kit-Kat skipping over to rub against your leg. It’s almost enough to make you break down all over again; You can’t believe you have to say goodbye to her next week.

You kick your sneakers off and squat down to her level, “I love you so much, baby girl. Thank you for taking care of me.” You whisper and pet her head, all the way down to her tail. She meows like she loves you. Ellie shuts the door and watches you silently. You turn to face her. For the first time, she doesn't fidget at your inspection.

Her eyes are much glossier and she’s picking at the skin on her pinky. She wants to say something.

“You okay?” You murmur, and Ellie nods. You don’t believe her. Her eyes are downcast. Why does she look so nervous?

The silence is killing you, so you speak.

“Ellie, I’m… I’m sorry for everything,” You stand and ramble. “I’m the worst roommate imaginable and I-I’m terrible and impulsive and I fucking suck, but I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

I also kinda like you.

Not even your word vomit lets that slip. So, you apologize, sloppily and snot-filled. Tears drip down your face in waterfalls, “I’m— I don't wanna go... and I don’t want you to go…”

Ellie’s timid facade breaks, only slightly, eyes closing gently as she listens. “I know I don’t deserve t-to ask that and it’s not… I wasn’t apart of your plan— “

“You’re drunk.”

You’re plummeting into the void all over again, succumbing to a familiar, oddly comforting darkness.

“H-Huh?”

Ellie’s as firm as a tree, unmoving. Strong. Still. You’re transported back to your first conversation and how intimidated she made you feel. “You’re drunk… and I leave in the morning. I got the job.”

Drowning. That’s what this feels like. Strangely proud. Oddly suffocating. You’re underwater, but refuse to resurface. “I-In the morning?”

Her head jerks. “I, uh. I got rent covered. Sorry for the late notice.” She shoves her hands in her pocket. You shake your head, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “It’s okay.” You whisper. “Where’re you gonna go?”

“My dad’s. He’s a few hours out. The truck comes tomorrow.”

Your head bobs in acknowledgement, “H-How was the stats final?” She pauses; Her eyes sadden, tilting like an unwatered rose. “You’ll do fine.” She whispers.

“Promise to take care of my daughter?” You blurt between sniffles, already moving down the hall, ignoring the loud shattering in your heart when you peep all her boxes in the now vacant room beside yours.

Ellie mumbles your name but you’re sick of ugly crying in front of people. “Good luck with everything.” You mutter with hot feet.

And with the last click of your bedroom lock, you shut out the vine who entangled your heart for the last time. You give into the feelings of loss, the emotions that come with failure, and release them into your hands.

What could’ve been, your brain hollers while your heart wails. What could’ve been if you weren’t you.

You don’t remember waking up, but you’re in pain. Physically, mentally; You're hurting. The intensity of it somehow gets worse at the sound of Ellie dragging boxes out of her — the room.

You just cry. There’s nothing to do but cry. Your phone has been ringing all morning, but you don’t have strength to reach for it. You relish in the deserving pain of your hangover. Tequila hasn’t done shit for you.

Hours pass, and your home is silent. Ellie’s gone. Pickle’s gone. Amaya’s gone. Abby’s gone. Your mother’s gone. You take their departures as signs. It’s probably time for you to go, too.

Your shower is incredibly long. You wash and wash and re-wash, wanting the feelings of cleanliness to cascade down your skin, but it never comes. You tearfully accept your lecherous nature and every vile entity attached to it. You’re a vessel for heartbreak and villainy. Forever your worst enemy. You look in the mirror for the first time in days. Just for a second. You can’t stand to see yourself for longer than that, your naked form a reminder of every violation you’ve had to endure since you were fifteen.

Ellie isn't thinking twice about you, and yet, she terrorizes your mind, trying to convince yourself that your time together wasn’t all bad. You’ll never forget the color she brought to you. Her seed is forever planted and growing in your heart, her roots forcing their way into your system, intertwining with your rough, cracked bones, enclosing around your lungs with each breath.

Too bad you impacted her in the worst way. You couldn’t even manage to give her a sober apology before she left. It’s hard to accept the fact that you’ll never see her again, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.

Once again, you’re too late.

The short lap around your living room crushes your spirit. Somehow, all of your memories are shrouded in emptiness. All the proof of Ellie’s residency is gone… Except the indent of her body on the couch. She always loved sleeping there.

One last heavy exhale. That’s all you can manage before you grab your coat and beanie and exit, locking the door behind you. You keep your head down on the way to the parking garage, hopping into the driver’s seat. The ride to the academic advisory office is silent and swift; It matches the finality of your meeting.

Tears glaze your eyes when you ask your counselor, “What’s… What’s the first step of withdrawing? Like, from school.”

CHRISTMAS EVE

Your fork picks at the pasta noodles on your barely touched plate. The wine is delicious.

“Honey, are you…” Your dad says softly before sighing, “How’s the meal?” You blink up at him, focusing on the crinkles in his eyes. He seems youthful somehow. Healing looks good on him.

You gulp down more maroon, “… It’s great. Thank you.” You mutter. You’re not used to talking to him; You’re glad the feelings are mutual. He only nods, head downcast onto his plate. At least he’s eaten.

He sets his fork down on his plate and wipes his mouth with a napkin, “I hope you like your gift.” He says before standing to place the dish in the sink.

A dark smile spreads behind your glass.

“Never thought you’d buy me anything.” You snicker sarcastically. “Don’t start.” His voice slices through the kitchen. You hold back your flinch. You’re not ten anymore.

You shrug, shoulders heavy, “Just saying.” A glass shatters in the sink, and he curses and storms off, the bedroom door nearly swinging off the hinges with a slam. Your smile grows at the booming echo. Like father, like daughter you suppose.

DECEMBER TWENTY-SEVENTH

“Are you ready, kiddo?”

Ellie’s heart is pounding through her chest as she stares out the window. She can’t believe her father hasn’t commented on the bursting organ. “No.” She whispers, adjusting the camera strapped around her neck. She's fighting not to bite her nails; Her dad hates that.

He chuckles softly, “Yes, you are.”

No, she’s not.

The photography studio is fucking huge and surrounded by tall windows that display suited individuals laughing, conversing, perfecting their lenses. She can see the bright specks of neon color on the white floors, white walls, white couches. It’s so much brighter than she ever imagined.

The colors are reminiscent of you. Vivid. Captivating. Beaming like your smile. There are flashes coming from all directions inside the studio and it’s making her shake in the passenger seat. A strong hand plants on her blazer, giving an encouraging squeeze. “Look at me.”

Ellie’s head turns, eyes locking with her dad’s.

“I love you. You got this.” He says with confidence. Ellie nods in agreement, but he doesn’t accept it. “Say it.”

“I got this.” Not as confident. A lot quieter, but getting there.

“Eh?” Her dad leans in closer, ear pointed at her. She giggles and repeats herself. A little louder. He decides that it’s good enough, pulling her close over the center console. Ellie inhales as deeply as she can, right in the crook of his neck. He plants one last kiss on her cheek before releasing her. She grabs her bag from the floor and pushes the door open, looking over her shoulder one last time. “I love you.” She whispers. He bops her nose with the most delicate grin. Pride is radiating off him, and it warms her from the cold outside.

Ellie departs with one last wave, shutting the door and skipping onto the sidewalk, walking right up to the front door of the studio. A final peek at her dad; He sends her two thumbs up. She smiles.

Breathe in, one… two… three…

When the door pushes open, she's greeted with wide grins and warm hugs. It feels like home already.

Finally... Finally.

BIG ASS TAGLIST LOOOOOL LOVE YALL: @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane@muthafuckingstargirl @mina-281 @yuckyfucky @aimformyheartt @elstoy @skylerwhitwyo @sawaagyapong @nil-eena @dewylittlestars @sakiigami @feelsoseencantdream @ellieslittlegf@fictionalgap @liabadoobee @whooknooows @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @qtgaslighter @p4ison1vy @eviestevie-14 @weaselot @elliewbbg @elsmissingfingers @lmaoo-spiderman @lyssaspengler @elliewilliamsmunch @gummydummykj @kiwikeysblog @juniorsfav @louleele @alittlextrahoney @tohoko@333-starhotline @girlkissersco @saplingkoi @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @elliew-illiamsmissingfingers @diddiqueen @alexisvs-world @mostlyhornyandsad @lolaaa699999 @elsblunt @niyahlovesu @randomhoex @sunnmoon @elliesaesp @callmewhenyoukan @rubycruzsbitch @deathby1000sluts @skylerwhitwyo

#click! ☾⋆⁺₊📸✧#ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #black!oc #black!reader #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪#ellie williams angst

620 notes · View notes

carlyraejepsans · 7 months ago

Text

UTY!Flowey, "lore" and how to criticize a fan prequel without being an insufferable pedantic, a guide by Biscia.

(for my muskless fellows, here's a transcript of my thread on Undertale Yellow that I posted on Twitter. enjoy!)

There's this really frustrating attitude in fan spaces i like to call "lorepilling" where people are substantially more concerned with encyclopedic knowledge of details & minutiae (so called "lore") in place of full-text thematic/narrative analysis as if the two are mutually interchangeable.

It's especially common in large franchises and story heavy videogames, and it's like... Are You Treating This Piece Of Art Like A Trivia Battle Or Are You Treating It Like A Story

This is coming from a person who is also deeply autistic about UTDR trivia btw, I'm just saying that when it comes to transformative *stories*, depending on the impact it has on character, themes, and narrative structure... lore is expendable.

Ultimately this is why most of the UTY criticism i see (on twitter specifically) falls flat. What does it matter if "lore" means Flowey couldn't chronologically be there when the justice human fell, as long as the game narratively justified his presence in the story in a compelling way?

The real criticism, in the end, is that it didn't.

He's a plot central, main cast character from the canon returning in a cast of mostly OCs and what does he have to show for it? An admittedly sick boss battle in 1/3 endings, sure but... not much else. He has no significant "presence" in the story, no tie, interaction, or even just... an opinion on the rest of the cast. Which is a huge miss when Flowey's meta role is to be Thee completionist player mirror. He's the OG lorepilled UT fan! He's an opinionated little shit!

This isn't to say that UTY *didn't* engage w/ his metanarrative. When me and @a-town-called-hometown first started playing the game (we were both skeptical of Flowey's inclusion), he immediately said "It would be really cool if they made it so this has been going on for a while and Clover has no idea". Which is precisely what the game did in the neutral ending, and what I will openly say was the most well written & well executed part of this game's story...

...a part we almost didn't see, because the pacifist ending disappointed us so much we lost all will to replay.

To put it in the words of my friend Mel @clowwwnbytes, there's a deafening hollowness to UTY Flowey's motivations & core principles where his guilt towards Chara—and resulting black and white thinking—should be. You're telling me Mr Kill-or-be-killed, "sacrificing yourself to do the right thing is stupid", would stand there after 1000s of failed attempts to make Clover survive, look on as they make the same mistake Asriel he did, and fondly call them friend? Cue the guitar, roll the credits?

He would lose it. Oh my god he would lose his goddamn mind, he would throw the nastiest temper tantrum in the world. Are you serious? How dare you. How DARE you. All this effort, all my patience, and you just let yourself DIE for a few worthless idiots? I should've let you ROT!

*clears throat* sorry got a bit too into character. as i was saying.

I can understand a UT prequel wanting to distance itself from the canon Chara storyline in order to form its own identity, but then turning around and choosing Insane About Chara The Character™ for a sidekick is... far from optimal. In the end, Flowey comes across as underutilized and inconsistent, with a whole lot of wasted potential.

This is an issue I have with UTY's character writing (original AND returning) and story structure as a whole. Lots of inconsistent character arcs, tonal dissonance, overuse of situational sadness... it's an amateurish work, after all, and you can feel it. There's no shame in that.

(Though, there ARE some issues that i take more seriously with its writing, especially when it comes to its two main female characters—Ceroba's lack of narrative agency and depth borders on misogynistic writing imo. But that's a topic for another day)

Over all, UTY was an incredible piece of collaborative transformative work, with gorgeous art and a genuinely incredible OST, which... would have benefited from more experienced writers. But hey, you can only ever learn by trying!

For all it could've been a better story, it certainly did not fail to entertain: both when my friend was playing it, and after in our many discussions of its writing, its faults and how it could've been improved (royal scientist!ceroba character fix you will always be famous. to ME!)

I'm sure this project served as an incredible source of experience for the developers: as individual creators AND as a team. I look forward to their future projects!

but also if i have to see another person say UTY is better than Undertale i might turn into The Jonker.

end of the essay! really couldn't stand any of the pedantic ""criticism"" I'd seen of this fangame so far, so i had to say my piece as someone more versed in analysis. happy to elaborate on anything in the replies or in my inbox!

#undertale #undertale yellow #uty #flowey #mywriting #metanalysis

275 notes · View notes

2-dsimp · 7 months ago

Note

Hiii hello. I'm new here. I love your blog.

Can I ask for your OCs with a milf reader who just moved next door, maybe? 👉👈

Hope you're drinking enough water, ilyyy

【The H.S.M Scenarios; Milf edition】

—-;———;——-;—————

Cw: Fem reader!

—-;———;——-;—————

“Hey ma! How you n the kids doin? You guys aight? Need any help round the house?”

Vincent would oftentimes drop by and visit after the initial greeting you gave him at his own apartment away from the hitman team. You became the highlight of his life the moment those baked goodies hit the pit of his stomach. The Enforcer would happily come over to babysit whenever he had the time, after the two of you got close enough. It got to the point of where your kids were already calling him their favorite daddy. And of course he made no plans to correct them, since they’ve grown on him just as much. To the point of where he’d kill for them. Plus the hitman wouldn’t mind stepping up as a potential father as long as he’d get to eat his future wife’s cooking all day.

“Listen brat, I don’t like you and I know you don’t like me so how’s about we just come to a mutual agreement and—Ouch! Did you just kick me you lil shiet!”

Covu and your kid will be at odds with each other 24/7 trying to monopolize your time. Using petty tricks and schemes to try and coax you into putting all your attention on themselves alone. This “rich hobo” would try and take you out on some elaborate dates despite him being lowkey most of the time. Just for an excuse to whisk you away from your guard dog of a child who quite literally has a vendetta against anyone trying to take their mother away from them. The Photographer is thankful to them in a way since your kid acts as repellent for any other suitors trying to pursue you. So sometimes he’d leave anonymous gifts to your kid as a reward or transactions for their bodyguard services if you will.

“…Ahem! Pardon me my lady but I’ve heard that you’ve got trouble putting your little ones to sleep, if you don’t mind I’d highly recommend that you use this melatonin spray so that you can rest more easily”

Rivius, At first would be mildly annoyed at all the ruckus your children would cause next door to one of his laboratory’s he has scattered around Devildom. And like an angry Karen, the devil was about to storm to your apartment and give a regal complaint. But he paused after hearing you breakdown from all the stress of being a single mother. The Archdevil would rub his antler horns feeling a bit distraught at how to go about this issue in a more roundabout way where both of you would benefit. So he came up with a recipe on the spot for a good sleeping remedy for your kids so that both you and him would have some piece and quiet. Long story short you were so grateful that you gave the scientist one of the warmest soul soothing hugs in his life. And he just couldn’t help but get addicted to that feeling leading him to be a constant presence in your life always coming up with ideas or solutions to help you and your kids.

187 notes · View notes

valentinachatte · 2 months ago

Text

I'm back and i brought an new OC to this blog :3

Meet Arwen Traime, my Twisted wonderland oc

This is some basic information about her

Template by Ai_kan1

Under the cut will be more fun fact about her

All these questions is made by Miriaocs

1. Name: Arwen Traim

- Arwen means a noble maiden, very beautiful, or muse, all three meanings are suitable for Arwen

-Traime Mainly made from Tremaine

- Rook calls Arwen Dame de la pluie, which means Lady of the Rain, which is a nickname people often use (because when Arwen appears, it often rains). Rook also calls Arwen Reine de la pluie

- Floyd calls Arwen stingray-senpai (Akaei-senpai). The reason is because Floyd realizes her danger despite her gentle appearance, but the real reason is because of her ponytail. The stingray looks gentle so I chose that nickname :)))

2. Inpso: Arwen was inspired by Lady Tremaine, when I first learned about the game I also wanted to create an OC, and decided to choose Lady Tremaine without looking at the cast... and then when i finally play the game and saw saw professor Trein, at that time I almost finished building Arwen and couldn't bear to leave her 😅

3. Age/Bday: She is 18 years old. Birthday is on May 20, close to Silver and Deuce's birthday

4. Dorm: Dorm leader of Celfam, when I created her I created her dorm myself. Dorm Celfam is based on Lady Tremaine's flexibility . Arwen is flexible, and knows how to make people do what she wants but is also cold like Lady Tremaine. Currently, she lives with Lucasta (vice dorm leader, who is based on Lucifer), the two are close friends

5. Class: Arwen is in class 3C with Vil and Lucasta. Vil and Arwen talk quite well. Studied together for 3 years

6. Height: Arwen is 1m75 tall, weighs 50kg

7. Hair/Eyes color: Gray-blue hair with white highlights. Two-colored eyes but few people notice because the two eye colors are close together, one eye is jade green, and one eye is emerald green

8. Homeland: Homeland is in the Vault of Memory (imagination country that i created). No one in the cast is from the same hometown as Obv, she knew Kalim and Idia before coming to NRC because her family was familiar with the Asim and Shroud families

9. Club: Didn't join the club because she was too busy with work and because of health issues

10. Subject:

Best Subject: History of magic, Arwen is extremely good at this subject because she is a diplomat and has to remember all the big and small events.

Worst subject: Physical education (make her run 3m and she faints).

She gets along well with Mr. Trein and often asks Mr. Trein to learn more about historical events. Physical education is unavoidable

11. Hobby: She likes sightseeing, especially places with water like waterfalls or lakes, once at the lake near the ruins she met Malleus there, and from then on the two of them often went sightseeing together

12. Pet peeve: chewing makes a sound, she is super annoyed with that. she will glare at the person if they do it near her

13. Food: likes strong flavors because her taste buds are very bad. She has no preference for food, but will not eat poorly prepared dishes. Often shares with Lucasta (Lucista gets it herself)

14. Talent: Excellent diplomacy, very good at talking

15. Unique Magic: "Back to your place"

- Arwen's special magic allows her to control others according to her command (not hypnosis but direct manipulation)

- Incantation: -"heed my words and follow my command, Back to your place"- changed from the sentence - "Cinderella will be put in her place." Lady Tremaine's

- Weakness: very corrosive to the user, the biggest loophole is that you have to know the name of the person you want to use it on before you can use it + the person you want to use it on is too much stronger, it will cost a lot of magic (which can lead to her death, will be explained in the backstory)

16. Quote: -" People may enter and exit our lives, and while it can be difficult to say goodbye, it's a natural part of our journey."- she said to Malleus when talking about her illness, not long after that he Overblot

17. Personality:

- on the outside, she is mature, gentle, kind, and delicate and loves peace but always gives off a very distant feeling. Arwen is considered one of the gentlest dorm leaders (after Kalim ofc) but is still a dorm leader, a trustworthy senior.

- truth is Arwen is always jealous of the people around her, extremely distant from everyone (except Lucasta), cold, cruel, and will do anything to achieve her goals (even harming herself and others). Secretly has a superiority complex, in her heart she always looks down on those she thinks are inferior

- But Arwen is just a child who was forced to grow up too early, living in meaningless compliments but never received any true love or affection, the guilt that she bears. She also struggles with PTSD and Depression . (more will be in the backstory)

School uniform and dorm uniform

Countdown poster

She also appears in Glorious masquerade as an SSR card this is the card that i draw for her

The ref of the outfit is here

#disney twst #twst wonderland #twst fanart #twst oc #twst #glorious masquerade #oc artist #ocs #my ocs #oc art #oc artwork #original character #original art

105 notes · View notes

spiritualitygeek · 1 year ago

Text

Your Heart's True Calling

Disclaimer: This pac is for entertainment purpose only. I am not liable for any actions or decisions taken or made based on the information presented in the reading. The interpretations and insights are subjective and open to individual perception. Please use your own judgment and intuition when applying the messages to your life or situation. Thank you!

~ Pile 1 ~

AoC rx, Knight oW, 5oP rx

As I was shuffling, the message "Hakuna Matata" came up. It's telling you to embrace a carefree and blissful existence. This message actually makes sense if we look at the cards too.

The Ace of Cups here in reverse is hinting at emotional challenges you might have faced in embracing or even finding your heart's true calling. It could be in one way or another, and it varies for each individual. The way I'm seeing it, it seems like you know what you want and how you gonna have it, but your cup is empty. You don't have the right resources? Trust me bestie, once you ask, it'll be given. Please ask God! Or the universe. Whatever your beliefs are, ofcourse. It's not the time for you to be held back by these limitations. It's time to let go of those feelings that no longer serve you.

The Knight of Wands plays a significant role here as it's helping you find that energetic spark. It's encouraging you to embark on new adventures with enthusiasm. Knight of Wands is definitely the energy of "Hakuna Matata" here. Blissfully walking your own path. Following your passion, your bliss. Being care free and happy. I'm strongly feeling it's the key! Your heart's true calling! "Follow your bliss." Whatever it may mean to you. Take what resonates, ofcourse.

Lastly, with the Five of Pentacles reversed, financial worries are beginning to ease, allowing you to see the abundance around you. If lack of financial resources have held you back from following your bliss, it will no longer be the case. Here I'm seeing two possibilities so please take what resonates. You'll either find alternate ways to follow your passion and do what makes you happy, a way that doesn't involve spending 💰 at all. Some of ya'll are possibly manifesting this, be it consciously or subconsciously. For others, I see money pouring in. Which again, y'all are manifesting of course.

Combining these cards with the message of "Hakuna Matata," it's clear that your heart yearns for a life filled with joy, spontaneity, and a lighter outlook.

Hence, your heart's true calling is to embrace the present moment, release burdens, and trust that life will provide. Remember, the path of Hakuna Matata invites you to dance through life's challenges, just like the Knight of Wands charges forward fearlessly. Embrace your passions and interests, and don't let worries hold you back.

Overall, the way I'm seeing it, once you start following your bliss, things will start to fall into place. Specially your finances if that's what you're struggling with. Your heart's true calling revolves around the carefree spirit of "Hakuna Matata." Embrace joy, follow your passions, and live life to the fullest, knowing that the universe and your intuition are guiding you toward a more blissful and fulfilling journey.

Signs: Pisces, Sagittarius or Taurus (Sun, Moon, Rising)

~ Pile 2 ~

8oS, 2oC, King oC

While connecting with the cards, I got a vision of a warrior on a horseback, embodying the spirit of strength and courage. This image seems to suggest that your heart's true calling might involve embracing a "Warrior Spirit."

The 8 of Swords hints at past challenges that may have left you feeling restricted. The 2 of Cups signifies a potential for deep connections and partnerships, while the King of Cups reflects emotional mastery and compassion.

From these cards and my vision, I'm seeing that your heart's true calling is closely tied to connections and partnerships. It seems that you've faced hardships in the past, which may have led to trust issues and a reluctance to ask for or accept help. Yet, like a warrior who doesn't let the number of battles they've found define them as a person, you've preserved a soft heart capable of trust and love. Although, you may be unbeknownst to it.

Your true calling is indeed about rediscovering the very ability to love and trust which you think you've lost. The 2 of Cups and the King of Cup are saying that you're still a person with a big heart, despite the challenges you've faced.

You're stronger than you think, Pile 2. Regardless of what you've been told. Every battle you've fought, have transformed you into a beautiful person. You have a heart unlike any other. Your energy is so pure for a warrior. Like the knight of flowers? There's something about your energy. It's like, you protect people because you don't want them to fight the same battles as you. You want to protect them from the harsh world. You don't want them to lose their purity as you have? Although, you may think you've lost your purity but the truth is you haven't. It's rare to see someone like you. Who's been through so much yet chose not to be bitter.

Moreover, there's something significant you're meant to create with a partner, whether that's a close friend or a lover. This creation could be a legacy, a business, a work of art, or anything that resonates with you. This partnership may or may not be strictly professional, mind you.

Remember, Pile 2, you're meant to be with people. Your heart's true calling involves collaboration and partnership. Isolation doesn't serve you well. You have the capacity to make something beautiful together. So, reach out, open up, and embrace the connections that will lead you towards a more fulfilling and purposeful path.

Signs: Aquarius, Gemini, Libra, Pisces, Cancer, Scorpio (Sun, Moon, Rising)

~ Pile 3 ~

AoP, PoC, 7oW

As I closed my eyes while connecting with the cards, I saw an eagle in my vision. It is likely that eagle holds a significant symbolism for some of you. For others, it represents a higher perspective, courage, and a strong connection to the spiritual realm.

The Ace of Pentacles signifies new beginnings, particularly in the material realm. The Page of Cups brings forth emotions and creative potential, while the 7 of Wands represents a determination to stand your ground in the face of challenges.

Combining these cards with the eagle symbolism, it's apparent that you're called to soar to new heights and embrace opportunities for growth.

The Ace of Pentacles here indicates a fresh start in a practical aspect of your life, possibly in areas related to career, finances, or material stability.

The Page of Cups and the eagle's symbolism point toward your intuitive and creative abilities. It implies that your calling is closely connected to expressing your emotions and creativity in a unique way that resonates with your soul. I'm getting artists in this pile. You're meant to create, to express, Pile 3.

Just as the eagle has a keen perspective from high above, you're being guided to see things from a higher vantage point, tapping into your intuition to navigate your path.

The 7 of Wands adds an element of resilience and courage to the mix. It suggests that while pursuing your true calling, you might encounter obstacles and competition. Yet, like the eagle who faces challenges head-on, you're encouraged to stand tall and assert yourself. Trust your instincts, and don't be afraid to defend your passions and creative endeavors.

To sum up, Pile 3, your heart's true calling is about embracing new beginnings, creative expression, and a higher perspective, just like the eagle that graced my vision.

Navigate challenges with courage, tapping into your intuition and creativity. By doing so, you'll find yourself soaring to new heights, fulfilling your potential, and aligning with your true purpose.

Additionally:

Even if you're not an artist, but you chose pile 3, your true calling may be about tapping into your creative and intuitive side in a unique way. While the artistic aspect is one way to interpret the Page of Cups and its creative potential, it's important to remember that creativity comes in various forms.

The Ace of Pentacles suggests new opportunities and beginnings in the material realm. Your true calling might revolve around building a strong foundation in areas such as finance, career, or even personal development. It's about embracing new ventures that resonate with your passions and practical pursuits. The Page of Cups encourages you to explore your emotional and intuitive side, regardless of your profession.

Your true calling might involve connecting with others on a deep level, offering empathy and compassion, or finding innovative solutions to challenges. As you're spiritually blessed, whether you know it or not. This doesn't have to be limited to artistry—it could be applied to any field where human connections matter. The 7 of Wands implies that challenges and competition might be part of your path.

Even if you're not an artist, you could be called to stand your ground in your chosen field, asserting yourself and your ideas. This could be about leadership, advocacy, or being a voice for positive change.

The eagle's symbolism is still relevant. Just as the eagle represents a higher perspective and courage, your true calling might involve stepping back to gain insights and viewing situations from a broader angle. This can be applied in any domain, helping you make informed decisions and navigate challenges.

Overall, Pile 3, your Heart's True Calling, even for non-artists, is about embracing new opportunities, connecting deeply with others, and approaching challenges with resilience and courage. Remember, creativity and passion can be expressed in countless ways, and your unique path might involve harnessing these qualities in a field that resonates with you.

Signs: Capricorn, Virgo, Taurus, Cancer, Pisces, Scorpio, Leo, Sagittarius, Aries (Sun, Moon, Rising)

Thank you all for taking the time to read my pac. I hope the insights resonated with you and provided some guidance. If you found this helpful, I'd be grateful if you consider following me for more spiritual content and future tarot readings. Wishing you all love, light, and positivity on your journey! ✨

- with love, Snow ❄️

Enjoyed the reading? Tip me here~

#pac reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card #pick a photo #pac #pac tarot #tarotonline #tarot community #tarot reading #tarot #free tarot readings #tarotblr #tarot cards #tarotcommunity #spirituality #your heart's true calling

531 notes · View notes

h0ney-dames · 3 months ago

Text

Putting all the drama because someone just couldn’t let it die

All names have been blurred bar mine and the offenders, if you know anyone involved in this please keep them anonymous :)

This you ghosting me for a week because I stated my boundaries?

This you trying to turn me against people I trust? This you trying to “totally not force me” to change my opinion of my friends?

This you victim-blaming me in an SVR? A svr that I brought up my issue with the owner at the TIME of the incident and not months after and when no action was taken I elected to avoid and ignore you? This you after I felt uncomfortable so I told someone I trusted the information? This you? (Btw it should be “going behind someone's back” not “gone behind someone's back” Telling people I TRUST that you were being WERID IN MY DM’s, isn't going behind your back it's setting a boundary. If you tell me something no matter how hard I've promised I won't tell you that promise is null and void when it starts to affect me offline.)

This you asking to roleplay NSFW and make nsfw head canons with my OCs even tho I stated I was a minor? And you were also a minor? Who.. hmm… snuck their way into an NSFW channel, and flirted with people older who were uncomfortable? You knew I was a minor and you still decided NSFW was ok?

This you struggling to understand the term “I can't”? This not only happened once but on multiple occasions. You also oh I don't know, spammed me about 4 times a day when I stopped responding to you. I used to put myself on invisible any time you would DM me because I couldn't stand the thought of texting you without feeling the need to vomit!

This you claiming these are your highest kins after I changed my name to Damien and you proceeded to start going by Lasky (more openly? I'm unsure if you already went by that but you had never put it in any of your names till I started going by Damien, I didn't say it at the time but this made me uncomfortable. I'm aware I should have said something sooner.)

This you??

This you denying that gay has become an umbrella term? Don't worry babe you can still be gay! Just because it's an umbrella term doesn't mean it's not a sexuality! You know that right? This isn't the 1920s 🥰🤩

I was willing to not make a call-out post the first time but if you're willing to “bring a situation to light” then I'm willing to show the other corner.

I tried to handle this respectfully and with the dignity that you couldn't uphold. I will not let you drag me through the dirt without educating people on what you have done so that no one else has to cause themself mental stress. You haven't just upset me but others.

You broke boundaries that were put in place to keep others safe and only talked to people you believe would have benefited you or that you could somehow manipulate and blame others/your mental health is not a valid reason to be a fucking prick.

And if the person in the post sees this, one, is good! Two, take your issues up with me. I had my time, and I said my bit when it happened, you do not have a right to go pull up old drama to get people banned after YOU made them uncomfortable, not only did I have to change my boundaries because of people like you I also had to change how I trust people because YOU abused that trust

For anyone wondering where you can find this lovely LOVELY individual

This you?

Ps sweetheart your not 18, your 16-17 at most, 🥰😘

it's not a call out without their users now is it?

I apologise that this isn't my normal post, I was willing to not do a call-out the first time this happened, but it seems only reasonable if they are going to drag my name down :) Hope this helps you all avoid this creature

Happy Halloween everyone remember to lock up all your monsters real tight or they will start spreading bullshit :)

#reuben lasky moore if you see this i hope you have the dignity to not act like a dying puppy and talk to me yourself #im not going to apologise for having boundries #and im not going to apologise to someone with no balls whos a sexity proshipper

94 notes · View notes

gophergal · 1 year ago

Text

Behold, a silly AU I've been yapping to @cursed--alien about for... A week? Or two? Idk. Either way this is what they called Nine Mercs And A Baby, in which Medic creates a test tube baby (using his and Heavy's genetics) to develop an artificial womb then gets really attached to the resulting offspring. I'm not much of a fankid or kidfic person (kids weird me out), but this AU has really grown on me despite being a joke at first

(more details under the cut)

Before their "birth", Medic refused to acknowledge the question of what he was planning on doing with the baby if it survived. After it was born he claimed that he was only keeping it to study human growth and development first hand

Medic is extremely weird about fatherhood. He's simultaneously really anxious and distant. He knows he's not cut out to be a primary caregiver. It's just not something he's capable of, and he thinks himself too old for this nonsense. However, once he realizes that he really does have the support of his dysfunctional found family, he allows himself to learn to be a better father

The kid was raised relatively gender neutral. Ever read the book "X: a fabulous child's story"? They're not quite that neutral, but they're not really forced into gender roles or expectations. They have two first names (one feminine, one masculine), but no one in their family uses them. Most of the time they're just called the Kid, but everyone has a nickname for 'em. They don't care about pronouns all that much. (C'mon, they're my OC and I headcanon Medic as transmasc. There was no way they wouldn't be some flavor of nonbinary)

Heavy treasures his child and is so fucking protective. He's wrapped around their little finger. Though everyone helps out with their needs, he's his child's primary caregiver and no decisions are made about them without Papa Bear knowing

They're born in 1968 and spend the first four years of their life living on the base. MvM doesn't happen in this AU, so once the Gravel Wars end, Red Team goes their separate ways... At first. After a year or so they start trickling back together because nothing feels quite as right as being A Team. Kid only had about a year of their life where they didn't have a big family to rely on

It's not all sunshine and rainbows, but the only Major Issue in the family (at least for Kid) is how distant Medic is despite being their actual Legal Father. He tries, but he's afraid of smothering them or pressuring them into following in his footsteps. Had he been younger when they were born, he probably wouldn't have cared. But having the opportunity to form strong bonds has made him a softer man. Regardless, they still love each other, and Kid feels lucky to have a dad like him

215 notes · View notes

a-killer-obsession · 25 days ago

Text

Safe [Killer x OC Nina]

Commissioned by @dissvicious

CW: third person pov, canon x oc, mentions of drug use, mentions of sex work, drug withdrawal, attempt of noncon, oral sex, handjob, fingering, p in v sex

WC: 8.2k

Masterlist || Comissions Info

When Heat and Wire heard noises coming from the pantry, they expected to find some sort of wild animal, a racoon or rats or maybe even a stray dog. Well, there was an animal, a black cat missing limbs and most of its tail, but the cat wasn't really the cause of the issue. The real problem was the pink haired woman scavenging through the Kid Pirate's food stores, though she looked so feral she may as well classify as a wild animal anyway. Dirty, her clothes torn, her hair messy and overgrown where her style clearly dictated shaving, and pupils blown out from drugs. It was a look they both recognized well from their home island, making the two men exchange a saddened, sympathetic look as the woman looked at them with wide, frightened eyes - yet she continued to tear at her stolen turkey leg, like she was scared she wouldn't get to eat again. It made them wonder how long she'd gone without food, that the presence of two relatively massive pirates didn't deter her.

Her cat stumbling noisily behind her as it tried to shake a jar from its head broke the stand off between the three of them, and Wire was quick to snatch her up. She fought him, of course, trying to beat him off with her weak arms and her turkey leg, to which Wire merely sighed and adjusted his hold on her, tearing the turkey away from her and tossing it aside, much to her dismay. He held her out by the scruff of her shirt as she wildly swung all her limbs at him and growled like a caged cat, unable to reach him with her much shorter arms and legs. She was so small compared to Wire, he'd thought she was a child at first glance, if not for all the tattoos. Heat gingerly scooped up her cat, who was far more friendly than the woman and merely gave a chirp at the sudden abduction, following Wire out of the room to take the two invaders to the boss.

Kid sat in his throne like chair at the head of the dining table, gorging on meat as his first mate stood to his side. He looked up in confusion as he heard the shrill angry screams and familiar calls of “BOSS!” approaching from the hall. Wire dragged the woman in, putting her in a chokehold as she turned her anger on Kid the second she was close enough. ‘Is this love at first sight?’ Kid thought to himself as he watched the feral woman try to fight a man at least three times her size, unarmed but fearless at her captor. He liked a woman with a bit of fire to her, it was more of a challenge. This one was small too, he couldn't help but picture how easy it would be to manhandle her however he liked. He shook his head at the intrusive thought as his pants threatened to get tight. The woman clawed at Wire's arm, leaving deep gashes in his tan skin, but he paid it no mind.

“Found some rats in the pantry,” Wire told Kid in his deep monotone voice.

“I'LL SHOW YOU A FUCKING RAT,” the woman screamed, “GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OF ME YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A BDSM SCARECROW.”

“How the fuck did she get in the pantry?” Killer scowled under his mask, unphased by the slew of insults she continued to throw at them. “Heat, find out who was on watch, have them punished.”

“What do I do with the cat?” Heat asked, shifting awkwardly.

“Drown it or some shit, who cares,” Kid waved his hand dismissively, ignoring the woman screaming in his face. The wave of his hand brought it close enough to her mouth, and she took her opportunity to bite him as hard as she could, sinking her dirty teeth into his flesh. He recoiled his hand quickly, inspecting the deep, bleeding bite. “FUCKING BITCH!” he growled, “you better not have fucking rabies.”

“LEAVE MY CAT ALONE YOU FUCKING PIG FACED CUNT,” she spat at him, “HURT HIM AND I'LL BITE YOUR FUCKING DICK OFF NEXT, AND BURN YOUR STUPID SHITTY CASTLE AND YOUR STUPID UGLY ASS BOAT TO THE GROUND.”

Kid held his hand against the cool metal of his prosthetic to soothe the bite as the woman huffed from excursion in his face, her teeth bared at him like a wild animal. His dick twitched involuntarily at the threats, damn this woman. He leaned back in his chair, looking her up and down, inspecting her. Yeah, she was fuckable, even if she was filthy right now. Best not kill her cat if he wants her down to clown though.

There was something else about her too though, a desperation and a sadness in her eyes that reminded him of a woman he used to know. It made him feel sorry for her, perhaps even a little protective, or maybe just nostalgic. He sighed to himself, he couldn't just have his fun and be done with her, the guilt afterwards would eat away at him if he let a second woman die.

“Lock the cat in one of the spare rooms,” he decided flippantly, “give it a bowl of water or whatever. Food I guess, I don't know, what ever the fuck cats need. Then bring the lookout to me, find out how she got here. There's gotta be a boat or some shit.”

“On it boss,” Heat replied, leaving the room with the cat still in hand. The woman watched him leave, confused. Why the change of heart? She stopped fighting against the man holding her, eyes flicking back to the redhead who was clearly in charge here. He looked… sad? He looked her in the eye, holding her gaze for a moment, like he was trying to see what her true character was, whether she was worth keeping. There wasn't much the woman could do to convey her worth, she didn't feel she had any.

“Calmed down?” Kid asked gruffly. She looked away and stared at the floor, feeling exposed, the fight completely gone from her. Something about his amber eyes had torn the fight away. Maybe it was because she knew she had no chance of surviving these four men, but maybe if she behaved they would at least be gentle. She could only make assumptions about what four grown pirate men would want with her, let alone the rest of the crew she had yet to see. “Good,” Kid continued, taking her silence as an answer. Wire took it as his signal to let her go, but stayed close, in case she angered again. “What's your name pipsqueak?”

The woman stayed silent, staring at the floor. Why did they care what her name was? What did it matter when she was probably just a toy for them anyway, something to be used and discarded without care. “Speak,” Wire insisted behind her, giving her a short shove and causing her to stumble closer to the captain. She turned and hissed at him, before turning back to Kid with a little more fire in her.

“Nina,” she spat.

“Nina,” Kid repeated, like he was testing how it felt on his tongue, “you wanna join my crew?”

“Huh?” Nina huffed, completely thrown off. She hadn't at all expected that. Killer and Wire exchanged a look, it wasn't like Kid to just offer people a place on his crew, let alone so quickly. Then again, they'd both have to be blind to not see the similarities between this stubborn woman and Victoria. Neither was willing to risk Kid's wrath by pointing it out though, so they both held their tongues.

“What, you got a better plan?” Kid laughed, “seems to me that you're all alone and half dead, but you've got some fire in ya, and lucky for you I have a soft spot for basket cases. So you wanna join or what? Or we can just handle you the way we normally handle rats.”

“I… I guess?” Nina replied hesitantly after giving it some thought. It wasn't like she had a lot of choice here. Worst case, at least she'd be alive, she could always run off at the next island. These men were clearly pirates, she'd seen their ship and their jollyroger, they wouldn't stay settled on this island for long. In the meantime maybe she'd at least have a secure source of food and shelter.

“Good choice,” Kid barked, “Kil, get ‘er cleaned up and set. Welcome to the Kid Pirates, pipsqueak.”

Nina stayed in the shower longer than she probably should have, but the hot water felt good against her irritated skin after so long at sea without access to proper bathing. She let the water wash over her as she stood deep in thought, trying to understand what the fuck had happened. The first mate had brought her to this bathroom, a communal space but he'd promised her privacy as he stood guard outside - whether for her protection or the protection of the crew she wasn't quite sure. It wasn't like she had any weapons on her, Killer had made sure of that before leaving her on her own to shower. She'd told him where to find her boat, and he promised her things would be brought ashore for her. She didn't understand why they were bothering, this all felt like some elaborate trick to get her comfortable before they kill her, maybe to make her death more cruel, or to make her more pliable to their demands.

Killer knocking on the door startled her from her reverie, making her jolt. “Hurry it up, I've got shit to do, new girl,” Killer called from the other side of the door. She quickly shut off the water and dried herself, redressing in the clean clothes Killer had grabbed for her. The last thing she wanted to do was anger anyone and make them change their mind about keeping her alive. The clothes weren't a lot, just a blue men's shirt that was far too large for her, some briefs - also too large but she made do by tying a knot on at the waistband - and a set of fluffy socks. It was certainly better than the torn, dirty clothes she'd been wearing though, which she tossed in a waste bin, there was no point trying to save them.

“You decent?” Killer called again. Nina checked her appearance in the mirror quickly, making sure everything was covered. She scowled at her sunken eyes with their heavy bags, her overgrown hair that was stuck to her scalp from the water, the numerous cuts and scrapes and bruises that littered her body, more visible now that the grime that hid most of them away was gone. Some of them seemed infected, and she winced as she prodded at one particularly inflamed looking cut. With a sigh she called out to Killer that he could come in, and he did so immediately. Moving to a nearby cabinet he pulled out a first aid box, gesturing for her to sit on one of the dressing benches that ran down the center of the bathroom.

He knelt in front of her, the height difference between them meaning they would have been eye to eye if not for the mask, as he sat the first aid kit on the bench and opened it, pulling out several things. “Can I touch you?” He asked, “just to tend to your injuries.”

Nina blinked in confusion, she couldn't even remember the last time someone asked her for consent, let alone cared for her physical wellbeing. “Y-yeah,” she replied in a small voice.

Killer was quiet as he tended to her wounds, carefully cleaning and disinfecting each one before laying a sterlile dressing over them. He applied a soothing ointment over her bruises, and added paper stitches to a few particularly nasty cuts. She sat frozen the whole time, but couldn't help but feel that his light touches against her skin felt nice. It'd been a long time since anyone had been gentle with her. Slowly she let herself relax, closing her eyes and just focusing on the soft touch of his warm fingertips against her skin. She stifled a sigh as his fingers smoothed out the dressing on her nose, momentarily running over the tops of her cheeks before his hands moved on to the next injury. By the time he was done she was covered in small dressings, a few larger palm sized ones here and there.

After discarding the small pile of trash he'd accumulated in the process, he gestured for her to follow him. They met Wire again, who carried a bag with him. Nina recognized it as hers, as the tall man handed it to Killer. “This her stuff?” the first mate asked.

“Yeah, boat was right where she said it would be,” Wire replied, eyes shifting to Nina for a moment as he inspected how many dressings Killer had needed to give her. She was in a worse shape than Wire had initially thought. “Heat put the cat in the room next to Quince. Kid's dealing with the henchie that was on watch.”

“Okay,” Killer replied. Wire nodded and turned to leave, and Killer turned back to Nina. He held the bag out for her to take, and she looked at him befuddled. The chainsaw sticking out of the bag was obvious, and the way the bag was packed looked like nobody had even looked inside. Were they stupid, or were they really giving her a weapon? “You want your shit or not?” Killer asked, jostling the bag a little, and Nina quickly grabbed it back. She slung the bag over her shoulder, and quickly scurried to follow him again, as he'd already begun walking once more.

He opened the door to a spacious room, where her cat, Zap, quickly hobbled over to greet her, rubbing against her leg. She picked him up and gave him a small affectionate squeeze, before looking properly at the room. It was… nice. Really nice, actually. She'd sort of expected an old crusty mattress on the floor and a lock on the outside of her door, but this seemed like an ordinary, nice, bedroom. There was a large bed made up with clean bedding, a big round mirror, dressers and shelves for her things, a big round light hanging from the ceiling that someone had turned on already for Zap - Heat, assumedly. There were even a few bowls on the floor near the dresser - one filled with fresh water, the other dirty with the remnants of whatever meat Zap had been given while Nina was showering.

Looking at the room, Nina suddenly realised that maybe this wasn't a trick. These pirates were being nothing but kind to her and Zap. She'd never even stayed in a room this nice before, not a single piece of furniture looked dirty or broken or worn. It was a safe, welcoming space, and it was all for her. She could fight back, she had her weapon now, but they didn't expect her to, because there was no need. She was safe here, with this crew. Maybe it was fate that her small rickety boat had brought her to this island.

She turned to Killer with a wide smile, the first smile she'd had in months, maybe even years. “Thank you,” she said softly. His heart fluttered a little and he blushed under his mask at her pretty grin, the corners of her eyes creased from it, making the little heart tattoo under her eye dance with the shift of skin.

“Yeah, no problem,” he replied, trying to hide the fluster in his voice. “Uh, get settled in, I'll come grab you close to dinner to show you the dining hall in a few hours.”

He turned and left quickly, leaving the door open, showing her she was not a prisoner here. The second he was gone she put Zap down on the floor, leaned her bag against the dresser, and flopped onto the bed with a giggle. It was soft, and she buried her face in the blankets, which smelled freshly laundered and pleasant. She inhaled the scent, letting out a relieved exhale as she rolled onto her back and relaxed against the blankets. Zap made his best attempt at a jump but fell short, so Nina had to pick him up to put him on the bed, at which point he trilled happily and curled up next to her to sleep. Petting his head gently, she idly stared at the ceiling, noticeably mold and rot free, and let out a contented sigh. For the first time in a long while, Nina felt safe, and like things were finally looking up for her.

Weeks passed, and Nina seemed like she was settling in well. As well as she could anyway, given everything she'd been through. It was clear to the commanders that she'd been lost, feeling like her life had no use, just wandering endlessly trying to find a reason to keep going. Kid and Killer sympathized, they'd felt the same way after Victoria died. They did what they could to give Nina purpose, assigning her as the new ship doctor after learning about her previous work with Dr. Hogback. She wasn't used to working with the living, but she was doing her best to adapt. It gave her a reason to get up every day, knowing these pirates had use for her, especially when they took back to the sea and the rate of injuries increased with the uptick in battles.

Several months passed, seemingly calmly, but Heat was growing suspicious of the new addition. When Nina had turned up on the island it was clear she was under the influence of something strong. Heat had expected more resistance from her as she sobered, but the telltale symptoms of clearing drugs from the veins had never come. Heat was well educated when it came to the hard stuff, he'd been there, he knew the damage it could do. Kid had a strict policy about drugs on the ship because of what they'd all seen from their home island, weed was the hardest thing the crew was allowed. Heat had made it clear to Nina that he grew plenty of cannabis to go around, all she had to do was ask, but she never did. And yet, she still showed the signs of being high - the blown pupils, the jitteriness, the short fuse. Though that last one may have just been her, it was hard to tell.

He had sympathy for her as well though, he didn't want Kid just straight kicking her off the ship when he knew she had nowhere to go, so instead he took his concerns to Killer. The first mate understood the fragility of the situation, and Heat's reservations about bringing it to Kid, so he decided to take care of it himself. Back on the island there were plenty of places one might go to do drugs in secret, especially when she had her own room, but here on the ship, sharing a room with three other crewmates, there were limited places one could hide.

He started covertly watching her, using his haki to follow her movements through the ship. The drugs and her trauma made her paranoid, making the surveillance harder, but Killer was silent on his feet and knew this ship far better than she did. He knew where every creaky floorboard was, every blind spot where he could avoid her gaze, and used them to his advantage. It didn't take long to catch her out, following her to the deck above the stern castle, where crew rarely went. It was after dark, but the full moon gave enough light to navigate by.

He emerged from the ladder leading to the deck as she was tightening a tourniquet around her arm, a syringe held in her mouth ready to inject. She stared at him like a deer in headlights, too slow to react as he rushed at her, grabbing everything he could and throwing it as far away as his muscles would allow. There was a fight for the syringe, her nails clawing at him as she shrieked, but inevitably that was thrown too. She ran to the railing and let out a deafening scream as she watched her drugs disappear under the surface of the water, lost to the ocean, the moonlight glittering against the metal of the syringe needle before it was gone for good. In her anger and drug-craving haze she tried to jump after it, but tight arms around her waist pulled her away from the edge of the deck.

“LET GO OF ME!” she screamed, flailing her legs and scratching his arms as he stepped backwards away from the long fall at the back of the ship that plunged straight to freezing open seas. “YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!”

“I know exactly what I've done,” Killer growled back, “you know the rules, Kid would have kicked you off for that shit. You want to go back to scavenging for your next meal?”

“You don't understand!” She cried. Her fighting stopped, but she still gripped his arms hard. “I need them, I need them!”

“You don't,” he replied firmly, shifting his hold on her to be more of a hug, letting her feet rest back against the deck. She slumped in his arms, only kept up by him as tears streamed down her face. She didn't know how to be sober anymore, that reality was too hard to even think about. “You don't need that shit, it's poison, I've seen people destroyed by it. It would have killed you.”

“So?” Nina spat indignantly, “who the fuck cares.”

“Don't say that,” Killer sighed, squeezing her a little tighter and pressing his mask against her shoulder. She shivered a little at the brisk night air, but his warm front against her back was a comfort against the cold. “I know you've not been here long, but you have friends. We care about you, we're here for you. You found us for a reason, you belong here with us.”

“I don't- I can't-” she started, feeling helpless.

“I'll help you,” Killer replied, “I'll help you get clean, okay?”

“Okay,” Nina replied in a small voice, not having much choice. Killer held her for a while longer, letting her get out her tears, before walking her back to her room.

“She can't stay with us like this,” Quincy huffed, “she's up all night, tossing and turning, screaming in her sleep! We want her to get clean, we do, but she needs to do it somewhere else! We need sleep!”

Killer slumped down in his chair and let his head loll back, his mask making a ‘clunk’ against the back of the chair as he let out a heavy sigh. He had a feeling this would happen with making Nina go cold turkey, but there was no good solution. He'd considered converting a storage room for her while she sobered, but recent raids had all the rooms full with treasure and weapons, there was no space to even hang a hammock. Quincy was right though, it wasn't fair for the three girls who shared a room with Nina to have to deal with the effects of her sobering up, especially when the worst was still to come.

“I'll sort it,” Killer grunted. There was really only one solution he could see here, and he hated it, but it wouldn't be forever. He stood and marched past Quincy, making his way to where he knew Nina would be. He found her exactly as expected, and he knelt next to her bed, pulling back the blankets that she'd pulled over her head.

“Fuck off,” Nina growled, not even turning to look at him. She was shivering like she was freezing, her skin clammy with sweat.

“Pack your shit,” Killer tried his best to reply in a gentle manner, “you're moving room.”

Nina took some convincing to get out of bed, while in the meantime Killer gathered her things. Zap squeaked as Killer picked him up, Nina's duffle in his other hand; the cat hardly left her side, especially while she'd been essentially bedridden. Nina unwillingly followed him bare foot in her pajamas across the deck and up the stairs, pausing as she realised she was being led into the stern castle where the commanders all resided. “I'm… staying here?” She asked hesitantly, raising her hand to block the sunlight that was hurting her eyes.

“You're taking my room, while you get sober,” Killer explained, giving her a small push on her lower back to get her moving again, “I'll stay with Kid in the meantime.”

“You don't have to do that,” she said in a small voice as he opened the door to his room and dumped her stuff on the floor, placing Zap on the bed. He didn't like knowing there was going to be cat chair all over his usually spotless room, but there wasn't much that could be done without upsetting Nina by seperating her from the only thing that seemed to give her comfort right now.

“I do, actually,” Killer sighed, “the girls can't sleep with your current condition and it's only going to get worse. It's not forever, just until you're clean. Just… don't fuck my room up, okay? I'll be across the hall if you need anything, I cleared the top drawers for your stuff, bathroom is through that door.”

Nina was already climbing under his blankets as he explained everything, more than exhausted from the short walk and wanting to go back to sleep, where her head didn't feel like it was going to split open. Killer took the time to fill a bowl with water for Zap, Quincy had been essentially caring for the cat while Nina was sick anyway, so he guessed that was his job now. He made a mental note to go grab the litter box and food bowl, before sighing to himself and leaving Nina to brood.

Killer quickly understood why the girls had needed their space from Nina. The crew quarters were far from the stern castle, so he couldn't hear her before, but now that she was across the hall her screaming was loud and clear. “Shut her up,” Kid growled as he rolled over, covering his head with a pillow. Against his will, Killer climbed out of bed and slipped on his mask, sleepily making his way across the hall, barefooted in his blue gingham pajama pants. Wire opened his door down the hall and gave Killer a look as though to ask if he needed help, but Killer waved him off before reaching for the handle to what was usually his bedroom door.

Inside the room, chaos had ensued. He noted Zap hiding under the dresser as Nina threw things around, narrowly missing Killer with a lamp. She let out a blood curdling scream at him, and he wondered if she was even seeing him, or something monstrous in his place. It was a likely scenario that she was fighting some invisible demon, hallucinations brought on by her withdrawal. He grabbed her before he could hurt him or herself, pinning her arms to her front as he held her from behind. “Shh, I got you,” Killer soothed, “it's Kil, there's only the two of us here, you're safe on the Victoria Punk, nobody is going to hurt you.”

Nina was panting hard, drenched with sweat and shaking, but she at least stopped screaming, and stopped fighting him. “There you go, you're okay,” he said softly, loosening his hold a little, “I've got you. Just breathe.”

“Killer,” she whimpered, like she was remembering herself, “I'm so scared. And it hurts, so much.”

“I know, I know,” Killer shushed, pulling her to the bed and into his lap as he sat. He rocked her gently as she continued to make small sad whimpers. “We're gonna get through this.”

“Will you stay with me?” She mumbled against his chest. She was struggling to discern what was real and what wasn't, and she felt like she couldn't defend herself against that. She needed someone with her, who could help her see that the awful things she were seeing were all in her head. Killer considered it for a moment. He would be uncomfortable, unable to take his mask off to sleep, but right now it was clear Nina needed a friend, or she might not make it through this.

“I'll stay,” Killer replied. Nina breathed a shaky sigh of relief and nestled into him, letting him hold her like a scared child as she tried to ground herself. Eventually he convinced her to lay back down to sleep, but he never let go of her, letting her use him like an anchor as the hallucinations threatened to steal her sanity away and her body ached from exhaustion.

Killer woke with a startle, feeling his pants being tugged at, putting him into fight or flight. He threw the covers off to find Nina weakly and desperately trying to get his pants further down, her small hand wrapped around Killer's semi-erect cock. He quickly grabbed her hand and tried to pull her away, but she rushed back towards him. He jumped off the bed as he pulled his pants back up, and she scrambled after him like a woman possessed, kneeling at his feet and tugging at his pants again while he gripped them hard to keep them up.

“NINA, WHAT THE FUCK?” he growled, trying to get away from her as she crawled after him, a crazed look in her eyes.

“Please, I need one more hit, just one more,” Nina pleaded, “let me trade for it, please, please. I'll suck your dick, I'll make you feel so good, please I just want one more hit then I'll get sober, I promise. Please I can make it worth it for you, I'm really good, please!”

“Not fucking happening,” Killer snapped, “Nina stop, I'm not giving you more drugs.”

“Please, please,” she pleaded. She collapsed at his feet, tears falling to the floor as she clawed at his pants. “I can't do this, what's the point? Why am I even trying?”

Killer fell to his feet in front of her, taking her face in his hands. “Nina, look at me,” he growled, “look at me.”

“How can I fucking look at you?!” She cried, “I can't even see your face! I don't even know what fucking colour your eyes are!”

Killer sighed and gathered all his mental fortitude. He should have seen that coming, it was only fair. “You want a trade? I'll make you a trade,” he replied in a low voice. Nina perked up, hopeful that he was caving. She was desperate for another rush, she felt miserable and alone and everything hurt, just one more hit and everything would feel okay, she just knew it. He saw the hope in her eyes and hated to snuff it out, but it was a necessary evil. “I'm not getting you more meth,” Killer sighed, “I can get you weed, but nothing more. But I'll make you a deal. You get sober, and I'll show you my face.”

Nina blinked at him, disappointed and confused. “The thing is, only Kid, Heat and Wire ever see my face,” Killer sighed, “I get that you don't feel like you can trust me, when I'm not even letting you see all of me. But I don't like my face, I don't like my smile. I don't let anyone see it, except the people I trust the most. Showing my face is the hardest thing I can do, but I know right now you're going through something really fucking hard too. So I'll make you a deal. You be brave, and I'll be brave too. I know right now it hurts, and everything is terrifying and you feel like the whole world is against you, but it's not. I'm right here, you don't have to do this alone.”

“Kil..” Nina sobbed, falling forward and letting him wrap his arms around her.

Things had to get worse before they got better, and get worse they did. Nina was reduced to a screaming, writhing mess, consumed by hallucinations and crying out for someone to either kill her, or let her have one more hit. She started refusing meals, until she became too weak to refuse and gave in, letting Killer hold her while he carefully spoon fed her. He became her full time carer, helping her to the bathroom and bathing her when it couldn't be avoided any longer. She practically lived in his shirts now, oversized on her but his familiar scent gave her comfort whenever he had to leave her to attend to his first mate duties. She never left the room, never left the bed without his assistance, she just tossed and turned and screamed all day, except when he was holding her. With him there, things were easier. He grounded her, made it easier to tell what was real and what wasn't. After several nights of running to her room at well past midnight, he'd given in to her pleas to stay with her, despite how uncomfortable he was sleeping with his mask on. She curled around his body every night like a koala clinging to a tree, whimpering in her sleep, but at least having him there was a balm for the screaming.

Killer got used to waking up with her limbs tangled with his, so when he woke up to find her not there, panic set in immediately. “Nina?” He called in fear, worried that she'd done something stupid, “Nina, you in the bathroom?”

When no reply came he jumped out of bed, flinging open the bathroom door to find the room empty. Scared for her safety, he ran out of the bedroom, opening his haki to search for her. He felt her on the opposite side of the ship, in the deck held between the jaws of the skull that decorated the front of the ship. He ran full speed to her, jumping to skip the sets of stairs that led to the stern castle, his heart racing faster than he thought it could. Only once before had his heart beat so hard, when Kid had laid lifeless on the battlefield after losing his arm, Killer not knowing if he was alive or dead.

He came to a sudden stop as he finally reached her, calling for her between heavy breaths. She turned, startled, brows raised in surprise. “Kil?” She asked, “everything okay?”

“You, you weren't in bed,” he huffed between breaths, “I thought- I thought something was wrong.”

Nina lowered the mug she was holding in both hands, using the heat from the drink inside to warm her hands against the cold morning breeze. It was early, the sun barely risen over the horizon, the sky tinted with greens and deep blues. A blanket was wrapped loosely around her shoulders, hanging over her stolen shirt that hung loosely from her frame, property of Killer, and old sweatpants from when he was thinner, though she still had to tie them as tight as they could go. “I was watching the sunrise,” Nina explained, confused as to why he was so flustered, his chest heaving still, “sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

“You're… feeling okay?” Killer asked, eyeing the drink in her hands, wondering if there was some trick to this. She noticed the subtle tilt of his mask and followed his line of sight.

“It's just tea,” Nina explained, “I don't think I made it right though, there's so many bits in it. My head was feeling clear, so I thought I'd get some fresh air before everyone woke up. Still have a headache a little, but I think I'm okay.”

“Bits?” Killer mumbled. He didn't think they had loose leaf tea on the ship. Unless…”Nina, did you open the tea bag?”

“Yes?” She replied, furrowing her brows. Killer snorted, grabbing the railing for support as he accidentally let out a genuine, unsupressed laugh. “What? Are you laughing at me? I didn't even know you laughed.”

“I don't,” Killer wheezed, “but that's, fuck, you said you were bad at cooking but who the fuck can't manage tea?”

Nina lightened up at Killer's laughter and let herself giggle, pouring the tea out over the railing next to where Killer was trying to rein himself in. With one last deep inhale he contained himself, standing straight and looking at her next to him. She was smiling back up at him, and he realised suddenly that there was no mockery in her expression. She'd heard his real laugh, and hadn't given any inclination that she disliked it. He turned to her, standing tall, before reaching back to the latch on his mask and releasing it. She made a soft gasp as he pulled it off his head, his bangs falling into place over his icy blue eyes, his lips stained with the remnants of purple lipstick, his cheekbones sharp and defined. She barely had time to take him in before he pulled her by her nape and cover her lips with his.

She made a confused whine, before closing her eyes and pressing back against him, letting the blanket on her shoulders fall to the deck as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and wove her hand through his long hair. He only kissed her for a moment before realising how crazy this was and pulling away. “Fuck, sorry,” he said bashfully as he stepped back. Nina's arms followed him, falling to rest against his chest. He looked out at the ocean, feeling self conscious and embarrassed for letting himself be so undisciplined.

“Don't be,” she replied softly, running a hand up his neck to cup his face. He hesitated to look at her, until her thumb ran over his lips. “So pretty,” she whispered, mostly to herself. He looked at her then, saw how her eyes glittered with genuine awe and affection, and he felt his heart swell. A breeze ran through the ship and she shivered, distracted for a moment from absorbing every facet of his face.

“You're cold,” he stated, rubbing her bare arm with his free hand to try and give her some warmth. She murmured in agreement but never looked away from him. “Come on,” he said as he put his mask back on, “let's go back to bed and get you warmed up.”

She let him take her hand and lead her, the two of them moving silently save for their footsteps, an unexpected electricity running through them where their fingers threaded together. Both of their hearts were racing at the unspoken promise of what waited for them back in the bedroom. Nina was nervous though, she'd never slept with a man in a intimate way, she'd only ever done it for money when things were desperate. None of those experiences had been pleasant for her, and she didn't know if she even wanted this. She wanted him though, that much she knew for certain, so maybe it would be different this time.

The door shut behind her and latched, and she felt herself starting to panic. Killer approached her from behind, letting his mask fall to the floor, but paused as he heard her quickening breath. “You okay?” He asked softly, “we don't have to do anything, you know. We can just lay under the blankets, get warm, talk if you want to.”

“Sorry, I'm fine,” Nina lied.

“You're not,” Killer sighed, seeing right through her facade, “It's okay, I know my laugh, my smile, they're not pleasant. You don't have to force yourself.”

Nina's breath hitched and she spun to face him, taking his face in her hands, her own discomfort forgotten for his. “It's not you, Kil, I promise, okay?” She soothed, running her thumbs over his cheeks. She took a deep breath and tried to be brave, not wanting Killer to be hurt by her own insecurities, “It's just. I've only ever slept with men for money.”

“Oh,” Killer replied quietly. He covered her hands with her own, closing his eyes for a moment as he pressed harder against her soft palms, “We don't have to do anything. We can take our time. It'd be different though, I'd be gentle with you. I want to be gentle with you.”

“I want that too,” Nina replied timidly, “I want you, Kil.”

“You have me,” he replied before pressing his lips to hers again, “all of me, if that's what you want.”

Nina kissed him hard, giving him her answer, and he replied in equal fervour. He walked her backwards to the bed as their hands tangled in each other's hair. He groaned as she gave his hair a tug, and she took the opportunity to plunge her tongue into his mouth. Kissing him felt good, and she found herself pressing hard against his body, whining as his erection pressed against her stomach. She let herself fall backwards, pulling him with her, their mouths still connected.

Nina tugged on his shirt, and they broke the kiss so she could pull it over his head, quickly followed by him removing her shirt. She giggled in anticipation before his lips captured hers again, the giggle turning to a moan as he kissed along her jaw and down her neck, taking handfuls of her small breasts and rolling her nipples between his thumbs and pointer fingers as his mouth made a trail down her front to them. Her whole body felt sensitive as he took a tit in his mouth, laving it with his tongue and flicking the pert bud with the tip. Her back arched off the bed as he kissed further down, his knees falling to rest on the floor as his lips worshipped her belly.

He looked up at her with puppy dog eyes, seeking wordless permission as his fingers tugged at the waistband to her borrowed pants. Nina bit her lip and nodded. She'd never even had a man go down on her and was eager to feel his mouth on her cunt. She raised her ass for him and he removed her pants and underwear, returning his mouth to her tummy and continuing his journey downwards. He nosed at her pink pubes as she spread her legs for him, and he pulled her thighs to rest on his shoulders, kissing each inner thigh before pressing his nose to her core and inhaling her scent. He groaned before finally bringing his tongue out to meet her, making her let out a long deep moan as he ran the wet muscle between her folds.

It wasn't often Killer got to eat pussy, in fact he couldn't remember the last time he'd done it with a woman watching him. Her eyes were squarely focused on him as he began to eat her out, his eyes locked with hers as he rolled his tongue over her clit with practiced precision. She gave in and let herself fall back against the bed, weaving a hand through his hair and letting herself relax as he worked, melting into the mattress at the feeling of his mouth on her pussy. She'd never let herself feel her pleasure with a man, it'd always been so strictly transactional, no man had ever even considered her pleasure, but Killer was drunk on it. He made satisfied groans as he ate her out, squeezing her thighs to hold her in place as she bucked and moaned, the vibrations of his pleased sounds adding to her pleasure. He released one thigh to bring one hand up under his chin, running the tip of his index finger around her entrance before sinking it into her pussy.

“Oh fuck~” Nina groaned, legs shaking as she came suddenly at the intrusion, “Kil~”

Killer grinned and kissed her pussy tenderly before climbing up her body. She shuffled backwards to make space and he straddled over her, watching her face intently as he sunk two fingers inside her. She whined and gripped the arm that was keeping him supported hovering above her. Her other hand ran over his chest, enjoying the tight muscles and curves, before it ran further down and under the waistband of his pants. He grunted as she wrapped her hand around his cock and began to pump him, matching the pace he was using on her. He added a third finger to her and the two of them made sloppy, desperate kisses as they jerked each other off.

“Kil,” Nina panted, “want you, please.”

Killer groaned and was quick to comply. As much as he hated to admit it, his dreams had been haunted by Nina ever since she'd woken him up that morning. With the added unexpected emotions on top, he was desperate to sink inside her, but he didn't want to pressure her. Hearing her beg for him had him ready to cum right there and then. “You sure?” He queried.

“I'm sure,” she confirmed huskily. He stripped his pants quickly and settled himself between her legs, taking himself in his hand. “Wait,” she pressed a hand to his chest, “can I… can I do it?”

Killer understood that she was nervous for a good reason, this position no doubt reminded her of some unsavory memories. He grabbed her hips and rolled both of them so she was on top, straddling him. She made a surprised gasp as they rolled, sitting up to sit over his cock as they stilled. She gave an experimental roll, grinding her cunt against his shaft, making them both whine at the friction. She reached between her legs and stroked him a few times before lining him up with her entrance. He was big, and she worried he wouldn't even fit, so she sank down slowly. Her body was more than willing though, more aroused than she'd ever been with a man and well prepared by him, so she was able to take all of him, whimpering as her thighs met his pelvis. She stayed still there for a moment, eyes closed in concentration as she took in how full she was and how good it felt.

Killer was meanwhile using all his willpower to not immediately thrust up into her, overwhelmed by how hot and wet she was sitting atop him, his cock entirely disappeared inside her. He gripped her thighs and groaned impatiently, desperate for her to move before his resolve could snap. Finally she opened her eyes again, suddenly feeling powerful as she looked down at the strong man underneath her. She rolled her hips with purpose, mouth falling open and moans spilling from her lips as she rode him, experimenting with a few different motions and hip angles before she found the one that felt the best for her.

“There you go,” Killer praised as his fingertips sunk into her thighs, “just like that, princess.”

Her moans synchronized with his grunts as she rolled her hips, Killer immensely turned on as he watched the way Nina took back her power and used him for her pleasure. Her hands ran over his chest, playing with his nipples and groping his pecks, before she leaned down and kissed him hard. “Kil,” she groaned, her energy fading, “fuck me, please.”

Killer planted his feet and thrust up into her, making her scream and bury her face against his shoulder. He gripped her ass and held her steady above him as he fucked up into her, her pussy making wet squelches as she whined against his neck, hot breath making his skin damp. She tangled her hands through his hair and pulled hard for support as her body was jostled, moaning directly in his ear, making it hard for Killer to not immediately cum. “Kil,” she huffed, “feels good, so close~”

“Cum for me, princess,” Killer groaned, “fuck, cum on my cock, please, I need it.”

“Ah, ah, cumming~” Nina cried, her cunt clamping down around Killer. He whined as he kept pumping her, trying to work her entirely through it, before pulling out and jerking himself off over his own stomach.

“Fuck,” he grunted as Nina collapsed against him, the two of them a panting mess as cum and sweat transferred between their bodies, Nina still twitching occasionally in her afterglow. She kissed his cheek tenderly as she came back to earth before he turned his face to meet her, the two of them sharing a intimate, gentle kiss, his hand running through her overgrown hair that was usually shaved short.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she nuzzled in to the crook of his neck, “for taking care of me, for being there. For trusting me with with your face.”

“Thank you for trusting me as well,” Killer kissed the side of her head, holding her tight to him, “the hard part is over, you're gonna be okay now.”

“Yeah, I think I am,” she agreed sleepily.

Like my stuff? Consider buying me a ko-fi

Want your own commissions? Get the info here

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #one piece x reader #kid pirates #kid pirates x reader #killer one piece #massacre soldier killer #killer x reader #one piece oc #op oc #commission #fic commission #friend oc: nina #bad bitch polycule

39 notes · View notes