#i just. wish i was not in this much pain right now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

annievrse · 2 days ago

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It Only Hurts This Much Right Now / Act I

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader Summary: When your captain, Luffy, tells you to run from Bartholomew Kuma on the Sabaody Archipelago instead of fighting, you end up on a submarine. Takes place pre-time skip. W/C: 15k C/W: Fic structure: Sabaody Archipelago → Dressrosa spoilers, canon timeline but majority canon-divergent events, is organised into scenes, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. Content: panic attacks, anxiety, descriptions of injuries, blood, passing out, trauma (Luffy), and Law has his death tattoos pre-time skip because I said so.

Labyrinth Trilogy Masterlist

— Scene 1 —

“Run! Now!”

Your legs move of their own accord, your mind screaming against your captain’s request. Bartholomew Kuma’s Paw-Paw Fruit had your crew disappearing off the Sabaody Archipelago one by one.

With ragged breathing and a burning chest, the further you get from the grassy patch, the more your heart clenches in agony. Your family is gone, and you don’t know if they’re dead or hurt, and the thought of them being in that state has you clutching your chest.

“Luffy!” You scream as he vanishes from sight, your voice broken, but there is nothing you can do. The Devil Fruit you’d eaten as a child feels useless against someone of this calibre, so you run, just as your captain told you to.

The island is in an uproar of violence and fear; the only place you know to go is to the Sunny. The Straw Hats’ dear ship, who’s been waiting for its crew’s arrival, only to be left abandoned when you run directly into the back of someone.

You stumble backwards, the sudden stop causing your legs to give out from underneath you. You land on the ground, a sharp pain in your tailbone sending shockwaves through your spine. Breathing rapidly, you scramble to stand, but not before a hand clasps around your throat.

“Who are you?”

The voice is deep and commanding, and you spit your name out quickly. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out the vague outline of a large man, his fiery hair sticking out in all directions. With exhausted muscles and the little strength you have left, you claw at the man’s hand, his grip tight around your neck. The man scoffs and lets you fall to the ground, the second impact on your spine hurting more than the last.

“Kid, leave the poor girl alone.”

You rub your temples with tender fingers where a deep pain in your skull threatens to explode.

Kid? Where had you heard that name before?

Your voice comes out as a whimper, your body on the cusp of failing you. A warm liquid drips from your hairline, and you pull your hand back, your fingertips crimson. Panic rises in your veins, and you’re reminded of the terrible fate your crew faces. A dull ache on your side stops you from standing, but you try to do so anyway with no success.

“Hey, you’re with the Straw Hats, right?”

Tears collect on your waterline at the sound of it, and your brain focuses on one key component – Straw Hat.

“Come with me.”

Spluttering nonsense, you try to think through the rapid rise and fall of your chest, your inhales raspy, and your exhales short. Your body doesn’t feel like your own, and as tears roll down your cheeks, you wish Kuma had given you the same fate.

“Calm down,” The voice mumbles, hands finding purchase under your armpits to lift you off the ground. “Panicking will only make it worse.”

“M-my crew, they’re gone.”

“Gone?”

You choke on a raggedy cough, your thoughts disordered. With a tightening chest, you nod. “Can’t breathe.”

The man calls something you can’t hear, setting you back on the grass. The sudden threat of Kuma out there and possibly coming for you next has you crawling away from the man, who has his back to you, talking to someone in an orange jumpsuit. Blood drips from your head onto the grass below you, and your arms struggle to hold you. Coughing out sobs, you keep dragging yourself further from where you know Kuma is.

“Hey.”

“Leave me alone,” You rasp. “He’s coming.”

“Who?”

“Kuma,” Your heart tightens as your lips form his name. “He’s going to kill me next.”

“Fuck.”

And before you reach the trunk of a Yarukiman Mangrove, you’re lifted off the ground and thrown over someone’s shoulder. And despite your feeble attempts at hitting their back, you aren’t getting down.

“Don’t take me to Kuma, please,” The plea burns your tongue as you sob, your limbs thrashing. A sharp pain shoots from your side, and you wail out. “Please, get me away from here.”

“You’re safe, you’re free now.” Usually, you’d need proof if a strange person told you something with so much certainty; instead, you nod, and your eyes close of their own volition, exhaustion overpowering your common sense.

— Scene 2 —

You wake with a start, gasping as you sit up. Fear claws at your consciousness and leaves goosebumps in its wake. You don’t dare speak a word. Squinting into the bright overhead lights, you realise you’re in a bed, a thin blanket pooled around your waist. An IV protrudes from your arm, and you shiver at the feeling of it inside you.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Your head snaps to the other side of the room, where a tall, lean man stands over a desk. You tilt your head at his appearance, familiarity picking at your mind. It isn’t until he turns around that you gasp. It isn’t his fur hat or patterned jeans that make you recognise him, but the deep steel of his eyes.

Trafalgar Law.

You’d seen him inside the human auctioning house where Luffy punched a Celestial Dragon, thinking nothing of him. Sure, he was a rookie pirate with a higher bounty than your captain, 440 million berries, but he’d done nothing to prove his worth to you.

You stare at him as he walks over, his steps lazy. Trafalgar Law’s blood runs cold, and he’s nothing short of sadistic; at least, that’s what Shakky told you. The man before you now seems to stalk you like you’re his prey, but his voice is surprisingly full of something close to friendliness when he speaks.

“You had a panic attack, and you were severely dehydrated, hence the IV,” You blink at him, your brain processing why Trafalgar Law is standing at the end of the bed and not a doctor. “You have a deep gash on your scalp and one on the left side of your torso, too.”

Your hand lifts to your head unconsciously, your fingertips meeting gauze. It’s obvious there’s some form of pain suppressant coursing through your veins since your body is light and your mind isn’t nearly as sharp as it should be. You curse yourself for being so weak.

“Best try not to touch it.”

Frowning, you lower your hand, feeling the same white fabric around your stomach. This time, you can see the dark splotches seeping through the gauze. Your lips smack softly at the dryness in your mouth, and Trafalgar gestures to the glass beside you.

“Wanna tell me your name?”

You mumble your reply, watching him warily as you sip the drink–-water. The room is quiet, save for the muffled sound of metal clanging.

“Where am I?” You mutter, holding the glass between your hands.

“My ship, the Polar Tang.”

Your stomach clenches with panic. “Why am I here?”

“Your crew was attacked by Bartholomew Kuma. Do you remember?”

Nodding, your eyes sting at the memory.

“You found me and begged me to take you away.”

Your gaze hardens as you set your eyes on him. “I didn’t beg.”

“Believe me, you did.”

Setting the glass onto the bedside table, you rip the blanket off and stand from the bed, noting the discomfort of your side.

“I know you,” You say. “You’re the guy who did nothing as my crew freed the slaves from that auction house.”

Tilting his head, Trafalgar says nothing, though his expression is standoffish. You stand there, your body shivering involuntarily. Maybe you should’ve stayed in bed.

“Drop me off at the next port.”

Trafalgar clicks his tongue. “No, can do; we’re not leaving Sabaody for a few weeks.”

Your eyes dart around the room, noticing the lack of windows.

“I know you don’t trust me,” Trafalgar says, irritation dripping from his tone. “But there was nowhere else for you to go.”

You shrink from his piercing gaze and wrap your arms around your body, being careful to avoid your injury. “How long have I been here?”

“You’re full of questions today, aren’t you?”

You don’t dignify him with an answer and wait for him to reply.

“Two days.”

Two days? “I have to leave. My crew needs me.”

“You’re no good to anyone like this,” Trafalgar shakes his head and raises his palm before you. “Besides, you don’t even know where they are.”

You feel like screaming and crying and throwing up all at the same time. It’s not fair.

“I mean,” He smirks. “You could always ask Kuma where he sent them.”

You narrow your gaze at him. “That’s not funny.”

Trafalgar throws his hands up in false defence. “Never said it was, sweetheart. However, you can’t do anything but stay here and recover.”

You think it over. What he says is true, but that doesn’t mean you must be useless. His nickname washes over you after you go through your options, and you roll your eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“What? Sweetheart?” He laughs, turning away from you. “I think it’s perfect.”

You want to retort, to yell at him for patronising you at a time like this, but are interrupted when a large something rushes through the door.

“Captain,” The polar bear says, wiping sweat from its forehead. “Kid needs to talk to you.”

Your first thought is Chopper and how excited he’d be to meet another talking animal. Your second thought is far more depressing, and you swallow the emotion lodged in your throat.

Trafalgar sighs and waves his hand at you. “Change her bandages.”

The bear salutes and walks toward you as Trafalgar leaves. “Hello.”

“Hi.” You tilt your head, knowing better than to ask questions.

“Oh,” It looks down at itself and laughs nervously. “I’m Bepo.”

“Bepo…”

“I’m a navigator.”

A familiar feeling rises in your chest. “A navigator, huh?”

“Yup, I navigate the sub,” He scratches behind his ear. “Who are you?”

You smile and tell him your name, slotting that you’re on a submarine in the back of your mind. “I’m a seamstress for the Straw Hats.”

Bepo’s eyes widen. “Captain said we had a guest, but I didn’t know you were a Straw Hat… Anyway, do you mind if I change your bandages?”

Your walls go up, and you glance at the white fabric around your torso. “Uh–”

“Captain had to sew you up,” Bepo says solemnly. “It was a deep cut.”

You nod and reluctantly drop your hands by your sides.

“Let me just— over here,” The bear stammers before rushing to the opposite wall. Usually, you can stitch yourself up. Before Chopper had joined the Straw Hats, you were the one to aid the crew. Zoro’s laceration across his abdomen, thanks to Dracule Mihawk, was your most significant job.

So, when Bepo returns with a fresh roll of gauze and scissors, you quickly take it from his hands. “I can do this.”

“You sure?” He asks carefully, his teeth showing as he cringes.

You swiftly remove the old bandage, unroll the new one, and apply it just as briskly. When the gauze is tightly wrapped around you, you notice Bepo watching in astonishment.

“Are you hungry?” He splutters, eyes still trained on your torso. You guess he’s not the best with blood.

Your stomach rumbles at the sound of food, and Bepo laughs softly. You cover your stomach as you feel your cheeks warm.

“Penguin made rice balls, Captain’s favourite. You’re welcome to have some,” Bepo says, walking to the door. He seems to have forgotten about your injury.

You nod, but before following, you stick your hand out. “Can I take this out?”

The bear turns around at record speed, his eyes honing in on the needle sticking out of your wrist. “Uh, Captain might kill you.”

You pull your hand to your chest. “Why?”

“Captain does all the medical stuff; he’s a doctor. He wouldn’t want to take it out, b—but if it’s uncomfortable, I can take it out for you.”

“He’s a doctor?”

Bepo nods. “And a surgeon.”

His large paws hold your hand delicately. “Okay, this is fine.”

You give him a wary look, letting him take it out despite the fact you can do it yourself. “You’ve never done this before.”

“I-I have, just not on people,” He splutters. “Captain makes me practice with fruit.”

Smirking, you watch the needle slide out from under your skin.

“Done. Let’s go.”

You shake your arm before inspecting the area. Bepo is already in the hallway when you decide to follow him.

“This is the infirmary, obviously,” He says, then points to the other end of the hall. “That’s the Captain’s quarters.”

You nod, though you doubt you’ll need to remember the layout since you’re leaving soon.

You follow Bepo up the stairs as he talks about the submarine, how it works, how he navigates underwater, and how it doesn’t implode. It’s all very fascinating, and you can tell Bepo is passionate about his job on the Polar Tang, but you can’t help but think about your own navigator—

“—and this is the kitchen.”

— how she knows the weather patterns like it's a part of her, how she draws her maps with such detail that it shocks you every time you get your hands on one, how you gossip with her until your cook pesters you to try his new dish.

And then you’re being introduced to the Polar Tang’s cook, and it feels like an iron grip on your esophagus.

“This is Penguin,” Bepo says, pointing at a guy wearing a hat. You give him a wave, though it's half-assed, and you regret it immediately.

“Hi,” You smile, trying your best to push the memories out of your head and make up for the lazy greeting.

“Rice ball?” He asks, handing you said food on a plate.

You take it graciously, thanking him for the snack.

“How’re you feeling?” A new voice calls. You turn to see another man with a hat, but his sunglasses make him different from Penguin.

It takes you a second to swallow the rice. “Been better.”

“Oh, that’s Shachi,” Bepo says before turning to the man. “Would be nice if you introduced yourself.”

Shachi shrugs and returns to his own rice ball.

“I’m here too,” A large man mumbles.

“Jean-Bart,” Bepo gasps. “He’s new. Just joined.”

You nod, finishing your rice ball.

“I see you’ve met some of the crew.” Trafalgar’s voice makes you freeze. You wipe your lips and turn to face him. There’s a katana propped on his shoulder, and you take a moment to study it.

Zoro’s face and stupid laugh pop into your head, and then you’re chewing the inside of your cheek.

“I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping,” Trafalgar says, leaving the kitchen. You tug your eyebrows together and follow him.

“I’m leaving soon.”

He ignores you and continues down the stairs and past the infirmary. From Bepo’s description of this floor, the only two rooms are the clinic and the Captain’s quarters, and considering Trafalgar is the captain, you deduce that you’ll be close to him.

The thought makes you cringe.

He stops before the final door and opens it.

“Ikkaku stays in the other room.” He says it like you know who that is and ushers you inside. “She’s away at the moment.”

Stepping inside, you realise there are more doors. Three are on the right, and two are on the left in the smaller hallway. He stands close behind you.

“Your room is through the second door on the right. Make yourself comfortable. We’re going into Sabaody tonight.”

And when you turn to ask Trafalgar Law if this is some kind of joke, he’s gone.

You should put a bell on him.

The women’s room is more extensive than you expected, considering there’s only one woman onboard. You peer around corners and keep your footfalls light as you explore, not wanting to snoop in Ikkaku’s stuff accidentally.

There’s an empty room next to the bathroom. Stepping inside, you realise that the warm light of the bedside lamp and the half-full bookcase in the corner make it seem almost homey. The bed is lush when you sit and run your fingertips over the quilt. What is going on?

Despite being alert, the comfort of the room allows you to let your guard down, and the feeling alone makes you want to close your eyes. Only for a moment do you let yourself pretend everything is fine. Luffy runs laps around Sanji as he prepares the fish he’s caught. Nami and Robin are lounging on the deck, and Zoro’s asleep against the mast. Franky’s tinkering with something under the deck with Usopp, and Brook keeps them company with his violin. You’re sitting on the railing of the Thousand Sunny with your legs swinging back and forth as you chat with Chopper, fixing a patch to the underside of his hat where one of Usopp’s inventions blew it off his head.

It was meant to be a sleepless dream, yet you fall victim to the clutches of darkness and dreamless sleep.

— Scene 3 —

You feel sick. Your mouth is dry, and your head is full of cotton. The last thing you remember is laughing at Chopper’s attempt at imitating Sanji.

The isolated room is a punch in the gut, a harsh reality that beats the dream in your head to a bloody pulp. You swallow thickly and sit up from the bed. You don’t know the time since a submarine has no windows, and the actuality of where you are is a cruel reminder of your situation.

You rub your eyes with your sore knuckles hard, ignoring the countless stars that cloud your vision when you drop your hands to your lap. There’s no sound from outside the door, and when you really concentrate, there’s no muffled noise from the level above either.

You groan at the dull throbbing of your side but forget about it when your eye catches on a white jumpsuit hanging from the door handle. You endure the disgust that coats your tongue.

Before you know it, you’re up and snatching the suit from the handle. You swing the door open, not bothering to care that it slams against the wall, and make a beeline to the infirmary. You only know he’s in there because the overhead light is on.

Trafalgar has his hat off and a lab coat on. He’s pulling a latex glove onto his hand when you enter.

“What is this?” You spit, holding the jumpsuit up. Trafalgar’s head turns toward you, his face barren of any emotion. “I’m not one of your pirates.”

“When you’re on my sub, you wear it.”

Scoffing, you throw it onto a cot. “I’m a Straw Hat.”

“You’re on my ship.”

“Against my will.” You know it’s unfair, but the words spill from you anyway.

Trafalgar shakes his head, a small laugh falling from his lips. He returns to his work before him on the metal table. “I’m not arguing with you right now. How’s your wound?”

You ignore his question. “Well, when can you fit me into your busy schedule to argue, Traffy?”

His unamused glance sends shivers down your spine, but he doesn’t bite.

“It’s a safety precaution.” He says, lifting a jar to his face to inspect it.

You look down at your clothes and the gauze around you and sigh. Your head is still fuzzy from your nap, and fighting him will get you nowhere, you can tell that much. It’s safe to say that Trafalgar Law gets under your skin, and not just because he’s a surgeon.

“Not happening,” You shake your head and step back. “I’m not a part of your crew.”

“As you’ve said,” Trafalgar utters, his voice tinged with irritation. “Fine.”

Your face softens at the finality of his tone.

“But when you’re wandering around Sabaody, don’t come running to me when someone attempts to cash in the bounty on your head. You stand out.”

You smile, your pride overpowering any other emotion for a second. “You’ve done your research.”

“370 million berries,” He states, turning around. “But I have yet to see why.”

Your expression sours, and you spin toward the door to leave. “Goodnight, Trafalgar.”

He says nothing as you swipe a new gauze roll from the shelf next to the entrance and shut the door behind you.

“Asshole,” You mumble, flexing your hands to stretch out the fists you didn’t realise you’d been sporting—perhaps it’s best that you didn’t lose control of your powers in front of him. The walk back to your room is short, choosing to go to the bathroom before heading back to bed.

After poking around in the bathroom for an hour, you exit with a towel around you, again noticing the lack of noise on the ship. It is eerily silent as you redress in your old clothes, but once you’re done, you see a new set of clothes on the bed.

When did they get there?

You hold the new top, noticing the size is slightly off. Sighing, you move your fingers in a certain way to change the width and length of the garment. “Sew.”

Seams pop, and new ones are made until the ill-fitting clothes resize to fit you perfectly. You hum in contentment and place them on the chair in the corner of the room.

You wrap your wound with new gauze, thanks to the roll you stole earlier, but the pain suppressants are wearing off, and the pain is beginning to seep through. Your gaze catches on the new clothes, and despite the bloodstains and dirt patches on the clothes you wear now, you decide you feel more comfortable in them than the foreign ones in the corner.

Laying on the bed, your eyes close almost instantly. The emotion you feel from earlier and the spat with Trafalgar has tired you. You thought it’d be difficult to fall asleep in such ghostly silence, but when the blanket covers you, you’re dreaming about your crew again.

—

It’s only slight, but the knock that comes from outside of your door startles you. You’ve been awake for hours, picking through the books on the shelf and thinking about how you were leaving Sabaody when it happened.

Your name is low on his lips when he speaks it, and your heart jumps at the sound of it.

“Come in.”

The door opens slowly, like Trafalgar’s nervous about what he’ll find.

“How’re you feeling?”

You glance at your stomach and shrug. “Achy.”

Trafalgar nods, standing awkwardly in the doorway, one of his hands digging in the pocket of his jeans. “I brought you some pills for the pain.”

The bottle is small, but it's full of medication. You thank him, screwing the cap and emptying two into your palm. The air is thick with tension, but not the good kind. What he said earlier in the evening still rings in your mind.

“I’ll show you why my bounty is so high when I’m ready, okay?”

Trafalgar eyes you warily. “Okay…”

“Thanks for bringing these,” You gesture to the tablets in your palm, trying to diffuse the tension. “Maybe I’ll be able to sleep properly.”

“You’re having trouble?” Trafalgar scratches his chin halfway out the door.

“Not bad,” You lie, waving your hand in dismissal. “Just nightmares and stuff. About Kuma and my crew and drowning in a submarine.”

You don’t know why you’re talking to him like this, exposing your fears, like he’s a Straw Hat, but something about his mellow demeanour is comforting. His shy eyes and shadow of a smile starkly contrast to the man you spoke to earlier in the night.

“Well, I know that this submarine isn’t going to sink, spring a leak, or implode, so you can scratch that off your list of fears.”

His good-natured humour surprises you despite his cold look. “Take two every four hours, and the pain should be almost absent.”

You nod, realising he’s talking about the medication. Taking the glass from the bedside table, you wash the pills down.

“Goodnight, Trafalgar.”

“Night,” He murmurs, whispering your name afterwards.

You open your mouth to say something else, anything else, when he beats you to it.

“By the way,” Trafalgar says, his voice oddly soft. “The situation with your crew will only hurt this much now. As the days pass, it’ll get better.”

He shuts the door behind him, and you stare at it like he still lingers there.

You can’t help but believe him.

— Scene 4 —

Bepo looks at you oddly from across the table.

It’s the next morning, and he’d informed you the day before in his tour that breakfast was at eight am sharp. It wasn’t until you heard the first sound above you that you’d studied the clothes given to you with such caution that you thought yourself ridiculous before sighing and putting them on. You’d shoved your feet into your shoes and trudged upstairs to the dining room, where Penguin shovelled various foods onto your plate without asking your preference and sent you to the table where you sit now.

“What?” You ask Bepo, moving pieces of your breakfast around your plate.

Bepo jumps at your voice, suddenly finding the fish before him extremely interesting. “Nothing.”

Twisting your lips, you feel bad for catching him off guard. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” The navigator shakes his head. “It’s just that you’re not wearing a boiler suit.”

“Oh,” You mumble, looking down at yourself. Maybe you should’ve worn your own clothes.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Bepo interjects quickly, noticing the look on your face.

“Yeah, never a bad thing,” Shachi comments from the other end of the table.

Bepo gasps. “Ignore him.”

You give him a small smile.

“It's just that the only person who doesn’t wear one is Captain Law. It’s just odd seeing someone else aboard not wearing one, is all.”

“Alright,” A familiar voice says from the doorway. “We’re going onto Sabaody. Get your shit together and meet out the front.”

You watch the Heart Pirates scramble to finish their meals, stacking their plates beside the sink as they exit the room. Soon enough, you’re sitting at the table on your own.

“You’re welcome to join us,” Trafalgar says. “Just stay close.”

“I’m good here,” You don’t turn to look at him. “Not looking to cause any problems.”

He sighs. “Do you need anything?”

You think it over, deciding to take his question literally. What you need is to get off this island and find your crew, to get to the Sunny and go to Fishman Island, like the original plan. Instead, you’re on a submarine, docked on the island where your crew went missing without knowing how to get them back. Your words are bitter as they leave you, but you don’t regret them.

“What I need is impossible for you to get.”

“Are you always this melodramatic?”

His quip surprises you. Your chair scrapes against the metal floor as you stand. You narrow your eyes at him as you walk to the sink and put your plate on the top of the stack. “Are you always this big of a dick?”

“Only when someone is being difficult. It’s not hard to accept help, you know. Or is that against the rules of the Straw Hats?”

You blink at him in shock, your voice low as you approach him. You can feel the power of your Devil Fruit tingling under your skin. “You know nothing about me or my crew.”

“Yet, I can read you like a book,” Trafalgar laughs, looking down at you. “I see you fit in the clothes fine.”

“Are you done?” You scowl, your fingers moving into their usual position when your powers are in use. It’s difficult to control yourself around him. At least you got your answer as to where the clothes came from. You don’t have it in you to thank him right now.

Adjusting the katana on his shoulder, Trafalgar sighs, lifting a finger to move the needle that materialised before his nose. “Let’s get out of here, hm?”

You gasp at the sight of one of your needles, regret swimming in your eyes. The needle vanishes like it was never there as you grab hold of your ability. “I’m so sorry.”

He turns around, ignoring your apology. “I see.”

“See what?” You ask, breathless at your lack of control. Your feet carry you after him, seemingly having a mind of their own.

“You ate a Devil Fruit.”

You don’t care that he’s leading you outside. “What if I did?”

When the breeze hits his face, Trafalgar stops, and you almost run into his back. “I want to see what it does.”

You swallow thickly. “No.”

Being outside, on Sabaody, makes your chest hurt. You try to push down the emotions clouding your vision and circle Trafalgar to stand before him.

“No?”

You nod once. “I’m not a circus animal.”

“You say you’re not a lot of things, sweetheart,” He says. “When can I hear about something you are?”

His words are honeyed, and you refrain from shivering. “I am pissed off at you.”

His eyebrow quirks up at you. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Ignoring him, you turn. “I’m going to get some supplies, don’t follow me.”

“I thought you were good here… but, unfortunately, sweetheart, I wasn’t planning on it,” Trafalgar mutters. “Just stay low, okay? There are pirates and marines everywhere. No matter where you are, they’ll be there too.”

You acknowledge his warning and turn to leave, but the call of your name from his lips has you glancing over your shoulder.

“Try not to open your wound, okay? Don’t need you dying on me.”

— Scene 5 —

When Trafalgar told you there were marines everywhere, you thought he exaggerated. Surely they wouldn’t be around every corner, store, on every rooftop…

Now, you know better than to doubt his judgment. The screaming of civilians and the sound and vibration of explosions have your heart leaping every few minutes in fear.

“Shit,” You curse as you jump into another alleyway. A group of Marines run past, and your heart beats in sync with their footsteps.

A trip to the town is more complicated than you thought. Shoving your hand in your pocket, you fish out fifty berries and whine silently when you realise how little you have to spend.

You don’t want to, but Nami’s tips on stealing and bargaining cross your mind. Thieving on Sabaody Archipelago seems like a foolish thing to do—there’s no way you’d get away with it with all the Marines on duty. Rolling your eyes, you step from the street and onto the main strip.

When nobody jumps you, you make your way to the closest store. It's dark inside the building, but you use that to your advantage and slide various small items into your pockets. The aisles are empty; the only person in sight is the cashier, an elderly man with horns.

Trafalgar’s words swim in your mind as you wander down the aisles.

Don’t need you dying on me… I can read you like a book…

His mood swings give you a headache; you’ve only known him a day. You couldn’t imagine having him as your captain. Despite Luffy’s carefree attitude, he’d never get smart like that, and he would never call you melodramatic. Hell, he wouldn't even know what melodramatic means.

The thought of your own captain has your stomach sinking, but then your skin is burning at the sheer audacity of Trafalgar Law. Bepo seems to have a high tolerance for his captain, and you guess that skill only develops with time. You scowl at the thought of spending more time with Trafalgar than you have to. You sure hope your crew makes it back here soon.

But, your mind is so focused on the captain of the Heart Pirates that it isn’t until you’re at the counter, paying for three rolls of gauze and a box of rice cakes, that the newspaper beside the counter catches your attention.

PORTGAS D. ACE TO BE PUBLICLY EXECUTED

You stare at the headline. It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Ace. Executed.

“Miss?”

Blinking once, you drop the berries onto the counter, snatch the newspaper from the stand, and run out of the store with it pressed to your chest.

No, no, no.

At a time when your captain needs you most, you’re not there. No tears well at your waterline; only panic has you in its steel clutches.

You sprint back to the Polar Tang, your legs burning and your mind racing. You don’t dare look at the paper again until you're safe in the room you’re staying in. Throwing it on the bed, you finally look over the details.

The World Government has captured Fire Fist Ace…. The renowned pirate Blackbeard has been invited to become a Warlord…the execution has been set to be at Marineford in one week…

Shaking your head in disbelief, you refuse to believe the printed words. You scrunch the paper in your hand and fly from the room into the infirmary.

Trafalgar is nowhere to be found.

“Please,” You plea as you run up the stairs and into the kitchen. “Hello?”

The Polar Tang is empty.

Your voice echoes off the cold metal, and you sink to your knees. A sharp pain rolls through you, and you look down at your stomach to see the bandages soaked in blood. The sight makes your head feel light. Your heart rate rapidly inclines, and the kitchen spins before your eyes, the adrenaline coursing through your veins tapering off. With shaky hands, you unfurl the newspaper.

Where’s Trafalgar now? Where are the words he spoke to you last night? It only hurts this much right now? It’s not getting better, only worse. Why would he lie?

Despite your racing thoughts, the only name on your mind and tongue is Luffy before you pass out, and your head hits the metal floor of the common area with a dull thud.

— Scene 6 —

“I’m starting to get Deja vu, sweetheart.”

You groan when you hear his voice.

“I thought I told you not to die yet,” Trafalgar mumbles, urgency in his tone. “Never mind, the war’s started.”

War?

“What war?” You slur, squeezing your eyes shut against the overhead lights. You feel exposed, and when you peer down at your body, you see a blue gown covering you.

“Your body has undergone immense trauma, both physically and mentally,” He ignores your question. “It's been a few days since Bepo found you bleeding out in the kitchen.”

You blink, covering your eyes with your hands. “What’s going on?”

“You were comatose, close to death. You’re stable now, but I thought I told you not to reopen your wound and—”

“Not with me,” You sit up, your eyes still hurting. “With the war.”

Sighing harshly, Trafalgar sits on a chair beside the bed, resting his forearms on his knees. You turn to look at him, noticing his sleeves have been pushed up to his elbows. On his arms lay stark tattoos, the ink trailing down to his hands and then his knuckles.

EATH

You open your mouth to ask about its meaning but aren’t quick enough.

“Whitebeard’s at Marineford. We’re on our way there now.”

You furrow your eyebrows, finally comprehending the grinding and clanging of metal around you. “Why?”

“Portgas D. Ace’s execution is today.”

The name makes you lurch, and you scold yourself for thinking about asking Trafalgar about his tattoos. How foolish.

“What’s wrong? Is it your wound?”

“He’s Luffy’s brother,” You whisper, dread flooding you. “Why are we going?”

Trafalgar gives up on your health when he realises you won’t tell him anything about it, but the information that Luffy is Ace’s brother catches his attention. “It would be a shame for a rival to die this early.”

“Rival? Ace is a rival?”

Trafalgar lets out a humourless laugh. “Monkey D. Luffy is a rival.”

You’re speechless. Wholly and utterly silent at his declaration. Your mouth opens and closes as you try to form the words your brain wants you to say but to no avail.

He shrugs when he sees you attempt to say something. “We’re pirates, or did you forget that?”

The idea that you could be here for shifty reasons hits you all at once. Sure, you’d thought about it when you woke up the first time, grateful that a pirate was willing to save you, to put their life on the line to help another pirate. But you were a fool for thinking it was out of the goodness of his heart.

That’s why it all spills out when you open your mouth this time. “Why keep me alive, then? I’m a pirate from an opposing crew with a bounty of over three hundred million berries. Why not kill me and cash it in?”

“You could be useful.”

“Useful.” The word is bitter on your tongue. Useful, not as an addition to a pirate crew, but as a weapon to wield against the people you love. Who was that man from your first night here? Does he exist under the facade of Trafalgar Law? Or was it all a lie?

“You know…” He ponders, running his tongue over his teeth. “Leverage.”

“Huh,” You smile fakely, disdain morphing your expression. “So, that’s all I’m good for?”

“Right now? Yes.”

Your hand flicks up before you know what you’re doing. The act of sewing his lips shut fills you with such jubilation that you can’t help but smile a genuine smile. The black thread of your power has Trafalgar rising instantly, the chair he was on flying out behind him.

“You may be Trafalgar Law,” You say lowly. “But I’m not a pawn.”

Trafalgar claws at his lips before sticking one hand out. A blue dome covers the room, and you feel an odd sensation in your chest. It feels as though your heart is being ripped out of your chest. You scream in agony, most likely ripping the stitches in your side as you clutch at your breast. The IV needle in your hand tears through your skin, and your blood spills onto the gown you wear, soaking through it.

Trafalgar gestures wildly at you, screaming through his closed lips as the threads tighten. You’re unknowingly making them taut, suffocating him. He staggers, the trolley that houses the surgical equipment rolling away as he falls to the ground. Scalpels and scissors clatter to the ground, the infirmary turning into a place of chaos.

His face is red, close to purple when you see it, a blue cube with a fist-sized organ inside it. Your heart.

“What the…” Your brain seems to forget the pain when you see your lifeline in the hand of Trafalgar Law.

You’re in such a state of shock that you loosen and remove the thread from his lips, your body falling limply onto the pillows behind you.

“What the fuck?” His voice is hoarse. “Are you insane?”

“Are you?” You ask pathetically, still trying to process what you just witnessed.

He doesn’t answer, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his lungs trying to take in as much oxygen as possible. He leans his back against the cupboards, his legs bent in front of him. The blue cube hangs from his fingertips behind his knees.

You yelp in surprise and paw at the empty slot in your chest.

“Give me my heart back,” You don’t know what you’re saying. How could he have your heart?

Trafalgar pushes himself back to his full height, his breathing still ragged but quiet. “What Devil Fruit did you eat? They’re not strings, that’s impossible.”

“What?” You ask absentmindedly, still occupied with the phenomenon of your open chest.

“What are your powers?” He presses, staring at you.

“The Sew-Sew Fruit.”

“Sew-Sew Fruit…”

“I have thread and needles and shit, okay,” Your breathing starts to go rigid. “Where’s my heart?”

“You suffocated me, that’s—”

“Trafalgar!” Tears roll down your cheeks. “Where is my heart?”

His body goes still, and the terror in your eyes is enough for him to lift it and slot it back into your body. The sound of blood rushing through you is loud, and you can feel the blood in your veins. The first beat of your heart back in your chest is painful but quickly dissipates as your body recognises it as its own. It’s an experience you never want to endure again.

You scramble away from him, climbing onto the floor and pressing your back against the furthest cabinet.

“Careful of your wound,” Trafalgar mutters, his gaze glazed with concern. His face has returned to its standard shade, and he rubs his chest.

“I don’t care.”

“I’m sorry.”

The apology should shock you, but you shake your head in disbelief. “What was that?”

He swallows thickly. “I ate the Op-Op Fruit. I can control all matter within the range of my room.”

“This room?” Your hand lands on your side, the pain returning.

“This room,” He says, lifting his hand. “Room.”

And as before, a blue dome covers you, and you stare at the ceiling in wonder, though you’re confused about how you could be so fascinated at something that almost killed you.

“Op-Op…”

“So, what does yours do?”

“I have sew,” You gesture with one hand. “Which you saw, that controls threads, and needles, which controls, well, needles. Sew can be used to stitch up wounds, trap people, and, you know, tie them up, strangulation. Whereas with needles, I can produce giant ones for stabbing and stuff.”

Law hums. “That’s a simple way of putting it…”

A smile you can only believe came from the deepest depths of your soul spreads across your cheeks. “No wonder your bounty’s so high.”

“And I now see why yours is so high.”

You feel your body relax when Trafalgar retracts his room. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “I deserved that. I was being a dick.”

“You were being a dick,” Your lips quirk. “But I was way out of line. I know we’re pirates, but—”

“What happened? I heard screaming,” Bepo barges into the infirmary, the door slamming against the wall.

You shake your head in dismissal. “Nothing, I just fell.”

Trafalgar’s eyebrows twitch when he looks at you. You could’ve easily told Bepo his captain almost killed you, but you couldn’t tell him you almost killed his captain, too.

“Oh,” The bear sighs. “Are you okay?”

You nod, pushing yourself off the ground to stand. “Thanks for checking in.”

Bepo smiles before speaking to Trafalgar. “Captain.”

“What is it?” He asks, turning so his back is to you both.

“We’ll be docking soon. The waters are rough around Marineford.”

“Understandable,” Trafalgar mutters. “Get the crew ready to retrieve Straw Hat.”

Bepo nods and quickly leaves.

“We’re retrieving him?”

Trafalgar sighs. “I told you, a rival can’t die this early. We’re rookies, we have to protect each other until the new age surpasses the old.”

His words have a strange intonation of leadership as if he feels responsible for Luffy. And maybe it's the underlying knowledge that he feels like your captain could be useful to him, but for now, you’re grateful he’s willing to help him.

“That’s sweet.”

Trafalgar narrows his eyes at you. “Get ready to resurface. We won’t have much time.”

You look down at your bloody gown and hurry to your bedroom, your stomach churning with both excitement and dread. Excitement for seeing Luffy, dread for everything else.

— Scene 7 —

“Hurry up!” Trafalgar yells to his crew. “We get Straw Hat out of there and leave.”

“Yes, Captain.” The response is a collective voice, and you stand in the corner, nursing your wound. You would’ve rather done it in the privacy of the infirmary or your bedroom, but with Luffy so close, you don’t care if the men see you.

“Only Bepo, Penguin, Shachi, Jean-Bart, and I will be on deck, the rest of you are on standby, given things go to shit.”

Another collective, yes, Captain, rolls through the common area. You’re on the verge of yelling that you’re going with them when Trafalgar finds your gaze and nods once, confirming that you’ll be there too.

Swallowing, you inhale sharply. Your wound is secure, and you can feel your power surge through you, just in case.

The submarine lurches, and then the crew rushes to their stations—some to the boiler room (you learnt was below your bedroom), others to the control room, and more to prepare the infirmary. It’s a practised procedure, and the tension around you reminds you of your own crew.

Trafalgar clears his throat, and you turn to see him before you. “Be careful up there, okay? We don’t need you more injured.”

You laugh. “Care about me, huh?”

He clears his throat. “Just need my leverage to be in good shape if i’m to negotiate with Straw Hat.”

You want to roll your eyes but don’t. You swear it hurt him to say that from the set of his jaw.

Before you can ponder it, you notice Bepo taking the stairs up to the main door.

There’s no time to be thinking about him. Luffy is your top priority.

“Are we there?”

Trafalgar glances over his shoulder to follow your gaze. “Yeah. Come on.”

You can hear the chaos before you see it. It's a cacophony of cannonballs, gruff wails of anguish, and the distorted sound of bones shattering.

Bepo pushes the door open, and the wind hits you in the face. The air is thick with rot, burning flesh, and salt, and you cover your nose before you gag.

“Welcome to the battlefield,” Bepo says. He means it as a joke, but it's utterly morbid.

Far away, chatter erupts when you step onto the deck. Marineford is seemingly silent at the arrival of the submarine. Blood sprays in the distance, accompanied by strangled cries and all you want to do is crouch down and cover your ears like a child. You can’t imagine Luffy here.

“Hey!” Trafalgar yells, and your attention is turned to the floating bodies in the sky. You recognise who it is immediately and run to the front of the deck.

“Luffy!” You scream, your eyes catching on his unconscious body. You feel yourself gag at the mangled state of his chest, but when you look at who is holding him, you’re stumbling over your own feet. “Buggy?”

“Hey!” The clown yells, his eyes wide. “Hey, I remember you! You’re that girl who sewed my arms to my legs back in Loguetown! Why are you here?”

Trafalgar snorts beside you, brushing off the rest of Buggy’s questions.“Quick, hand over Straw Hat.”

“I don’t take orders from you! Besides, what do you want with him?” Buggy asks. “Who even are you? What are you doing with the girl from Straw Hat’s crew?”

Trafalgar ignores him, lips pursed. “Just hand him over, he’ll die without my help. I’m a doctor.”

You notice the Fishman Buggy holds under his other arm. “Who is that…?”

“Doctor, my ass! No doctor carries around a sword that big,” Buggy cries.

“I don’t have time for your shit, clown. Hand over Straw Hat.”

“But, what’s in it for me? You’re just a —”

The familiar high-pitched sound of a cannonball makes your heart leap. “Trafalgar…”

“Uh, Captain,” Shachi calls, his voice wobbly. “Navy battleships are approaching the stern.”

“Fuck,” Trafalgar curses. “Hurry up! Give him to me!”

Four more cannon fires can be heard before the sub rocks violently from the impact.

“Captain, we’re almost in their firing range!”

The wind from a cannonball landing so close to the sub has you panicking. “Quick, Buggy!”

“Don’t you start bossing me around, little lady,” The clown screams, his voice cut short when you feel the submarine lean dangerously to the left.

“What’s going on?” Bepo yells, holding onto the railing.

“Oh, fuck,” Trafalgar says, looking to where Buggy floats. You follow his gaze, your body freezing at the sight of Kizaru. “Drop him now!”

“Fine!” Buggy exclaims, throwing Luffy and the Fishman down to the deck. The clown yells more nonsense, but you don’t care to listen. Your heart is in your throat as you watch them fall.

“Jean-Bart, quick, they’re coming.”

The large man raises his arms and catches them as Trafalgar yells, “Submerge.”

You run inside, going down to the infirmary. The submarine lurches, and you grab ahold of the handrail to stop yourself from stumbling down the stairs. You enter the infirmary, dodging crew members as they prepare for the worst.

Trafalgar and Bepo are nowhere to be seen, but you can hear shouting down the hall.

“Prepare for surgery!”

You slip into the corner of the room as the Heart Pirates file inside. The only evidence you get of Luffy is the glimpses of his bloody body. You cover your mouth with your hand at the state of him.

“Set up for a transfusion! He’s lost a lot of blood.”

The main door to the submarine slams shut, and the metal walls vibrate from the jolt. You wait with bated breath as the crew rushes around the room, sticking needles in Luffy’s arms and opening sterile equipment.

It’s captivating how fast Traflagar’s crew prepares Luffy and the Fishman for surgery. If it weren’t Luffy, you’d find it exhilarating.

Footfalls down the hall grab your attention, and soon, Bepo and the Heart Pirates Captain are entering the infirmary. Trafalgar holds something in his grasp, but you’re too engrossed in Luffy to realise what he shoves in your hands.

“Keep this safe for him, okay, sweetheart?”

You draw your attention away and look up at Trafalgar before noticing the familiar straw of Luffy’s hat between your fingers. Nodding, you curl your lips between your teeth to stop your emotions from teetering over.

He walks away, taking white latex gloves from Penguin and putting them on. Trafalgar looks over the Fishman.

“He’s been shot through the stomach… amazing he’s still breathing.”

Finally, the last tube is inserted down Luffy’s throat, and you hold your breath while you wait for Trafalgar’s assessment.

“Straw Hat’s injuries are fairly severe, too,” He says. “But I think his emotional trauma is the real issue.”

Your heart skips a beat. Ace.

“Do they need anaesthesia?” Penguin asks from the corner. Your jaw clenches at the mere thought that they wouldn’t.

“No, Straw Hat is close to comatose, and the Fishman is unconscious. They won’t feel a thing.”

Your mouth falls open. “But, Trafalgar—”

“It’s gonna be a fun operation, yeah?”

His words make you feel sick. “Hey—”

“Get her outta here,” Trafalgar says, waving his hand in dismissal.

“Yes, Captain,” Bepo mumbles, walking over to you.

“Bepo—”

“Captain’s orders,” He says tightly. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, your hands clutching Luffy’s hat to your chest. “I can’t leave him—”

“You have to; he’ll be just fine.”

“But—”

The door to the infirmary closes behind you and Bepo, and you're at a loss for words. There’s no use screaming about it, Trafalgar needs to concentrate.

“Stay here until I come and get you, okay?”

Bepo smiles sadly at you before he leaves you in your room. Now that you’re alone and the adrenaline of helping Luffy has worn off your wound throbs. Groaning in pain, you limp to the bedside table and swallow four pills.

The sub is silent, except for the relentless beeping down the hall.

Suddenly, the sub rocks uncontrollably. Screaming ensues from the infirmary, and panic clutches at your chest. You stagger and fall to the bed, instantly rolling off when the sub jumps.

“Bepo!”

Crying echoes down the hall as he races to your room. Your door swings open, and Bepo falls inside, rolling on the floor beside you. “Aokiji’s turning the ocean to ice!”

The submarine surges forward, going faster and deeper. The rocking calms down, and Bepo knocks his forehead on the floor. “No more stress, please.”

You sigh out a nervous laugh at where you lay on the floor. The sub jolts again; this time, it isn’t until the ship starts swerving that Bepo cries out. “We got lucky once. Now we’re really gonna die!”

“We’re not going to die,” You say, trying to keep your voice even. “Just hold on.”

Bepo whimpers, and before he can do as you say, he rolls into the other wall. Your name falls from his mouth in a whine, his eyes closing with dizziness. You cringe with pain, your body slamming into the leg of the bedframe.

Finally, the sub evens out, but you can tell you’re going extremely fast. The door squeaks on its hinges when it opens.

“You guys okay?”

You lift your head to see Penguin panting with his hand on the doorframe.

“Never better,” Bepo murmurs, his paws scratching the metal floor.

You nod and attempt to stand, your hand over your wound. “How’s Luffy?”

Penguin stands taller. “Surgery’s going fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a bit dizzy,” You say, knowing your skin will be marred with bruises. You don’t tell him of the sharp pain in your temple. “Are we safe?”

He visibly swallows. “Should be. Jean-Bart says nothing is attacking us now.”

“Thank you, Gods,” Bepo whines in happiness, pushing himself back to his full height. “I’m going back to the infirmary. I need an ice pack.”

You and Penguin watch Bepo leave, his legs wobbly.

“Do you need anything?” Penguin asks, his eyes trained on where your hand presses against your side.

“Should be fine, thanks.”

He gives you a tight-lipped smile before exiting. You sit on the bed, lifting your shirt to inspect your wound.

It’s bloody, and it's clear your stitches have come undone again. When will you catch a break?

Taking a deep breath, you unravel the bandage. Once the soiled gauze is off, you look away, feeling queasy. You move your fingers against your skin, not needing to look when your power starts. “Sew.”

There’s no sensation when your needle pierces your skin and begins sewing you up. It's a painless procedure, one you’ve done one too many times, but a minuscule part of you wishes it were Traflagar’s nimble fingers threading a needle and cotton through you. It isn’t a welcomed thought, though you don’t curse yourself for thinking such things. You blame the minor blood loss and continue staring at the floor as you sew yourself back together.

— Scene 8 —

You don’t know how you keep finding yourself in these positions, causing yourself unnecessary pain for the sake of others. Though, you can’t help it this time.

Luffy is recovering in the infirmary after his surgery. It’s been four days since Trafalgar finished his procedures on your captain and the Fishman, who you have now learnt is Jinbe, a former Warlord.

You’re outside the door, in the hallway, your backside hurting from sitting in the same position on the metal floor for a few hours. Your neck aches, and your back needs a stretch, but you feel guilty about getting up. You refuse to leave with your captain unconscious and without a specific timeframe of when he will wake. He went through hell in an attempt to save his brother, who you’d met once in Alabasta, and it wasn’t fair that he had to endure that while you were sealed inside a submarine with another crew.

Trafalgar said it was unfair that you felt like this, and it took time for you to believe him. The past four days have been full of anxiety and tears, but you finally pulled yourself together to see Luffy without having a breakdown. You can feel sweat dripping down the side of your face, but leave it to do so, and you draw your knees to your chest and lean your forehead on your knees.

“It’s too hot down here,” Bepo complains from down the hall. He’s on the floor, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as Penguin and Shachi watch him with apprehension. “I’m going to fade away. Goodbye, cruel world.”

“Shut up, Bepo,” Penguin snaps, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Now I’m hot, and I wasn’t hot until you said something.”

“All that fur really sucks, huh?” Shachi laughs, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bepo pointedly ignores him, slumping his body flat on the floor.

“I hate going so far underwater. It gets so stuffy,” He cries before narrowing his eyes at his crewmates. “And the company is oppressive, too.”

You can’t help the giggle that falls from your lips.

“Not you,” Bepo comments, looking down the hall at you. “You’re not mean to me.”

“Yeah, well, we hate being here with you too, jerk,” Penguin says.

“Such vitriol. What is a poor bear to do…?” Bepo whines, lugging himself to his feet. “To win the love of his crew members?”

The collective disgusted sounds of Penguin and Shachi echo down the hall, and you lift your head to see why. Bepo hugs them both into him, rubbing his sweat on their faces. You smile at the sight, a pang of homesickness making your stomach turn. You remember Zoro doing the same thing to you and Sanji when you complained about his lack of bathing.

“Fine! We’ll ask the captain if we can surface,” Penguin yells, trying to pry himself away from Bepo.

“Captain!” They yell, stumbling over each other to get up the stairs. You sigh and return to staring at the wall opposite you.

Heavy footfalls shake the sub above, but you ignore it, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. Your stomach drops as you feel the sub incline rapidly, and you barely smile when you hear the cheers from the common area.

You stand when the sub is stationary, and there’s no movement above you. You place your hand on the door handle, the cool metal soothing the warmth of your body. You twist the handle and step inside the infirmary. The sight of the Fishman sitting up on his bed surprises you, but your focus is solely on your captain, who lays there motionless, with a large tube coming from his throat.

“Who are you?” The man asks, and you jump at the gravel of his voice.

You tell him your name. “I’m a Straw Hat.”

Jinbe looks taken aback as you run your eyes over Luffy’s body. He’s covered in bandages from head to toe, and you can’t imagine what his injuries look like. You notice Trafalgar’s katana leaning against the bed.

“How are you here? Luffy said his crew was gone.”

You stand over your captain, your face warm with emotion. You move the katana down to the end of the bed.

“He told me to run, so I did,” You whisper, brushing his hair off his forehead. “I think he thought Kuma got me too.”

Jinbe blinks at you before he gets up. “There sounds like trouble above deck. I’ll go.”

You nod without lifting your head, though you can sense him studying you.

“He spoke a lot about his crew. I’m glad you’re here.”

Smiling wetly, you sniffle. “I’m glad too.”

When the door clicks, you fall to your knees beside the bed. Trafalgar said not to disturb Luffy and told you not to touch his recovering body, but you can’t follow his orders, no matter how hard you try.

“I’m so sorry,” You sob as you rub his wrist, the gauze rough against your fingertips. “I should’ve stayed back and helped you. Why would you tell me to run?”

You know you won’t get a response, but having him this close after believing him dead is something your poor heart can’t fathom.

You don’t know how long you sit there, your head leaning on the side of the bed, but when you come back to your senses, it's obvious the sub is moving. To where? You can’t begin to guess.

But, you hope Bepo got his fresh air.

—

Chaos has ensued above deck, you can tell that much. The sound of cheers and then screams of fear, with the dull thuds of arrows lodging into the walls, make you nervous.

“I’ll be back,” You say, flying from the room. The submarine is empty when you get to the top floor, and you aim straight for the exit.

The main entrance is ajar, and you push it open. “Trafalgar, what’s—”

“A woman!”

You freeze after you stumble onto the deck. In awe, you’re suddenly the focus of several people, no, women, lining the walls of a bay. They all wave at you, clearly excited to see you.

Smiling awkwardly, you wave back, glancing at Trafalgar.

“Where are we?” You mutter, noticing the large ship in front of you veering off to the left.

“Amazon Lily.”

“Okay…” You drop your arm. “Why?”

“They’re going to take care of Straw Hat.”

Drawing your brows together, you shake your head. “What happened to being the best doctor on the Grand Line?”

“I never called myself that,” He scoffs. “Boa Hancock has a fixation on your captain, so she’s going to house him here.”

Boa Hancock. “The Warlord?”

“Mmhm,” He hums. “I’m in the dark about how they know each other, but she’s eager to help him.”

“He’s not something to be passed around.”

“I know that, but Hancock is adamant about it,” Trafalgar says, voice hard. “Though I said otherwise, I do want him to be okay. Is that alright, sweetheart?”

“Yes, it’s perfectly fine, Trafalgar.”

He gives you an inquisitive look, one that you brush off. “What’s your problem?”

“Hancock.”

Trafalgar snorts and cocks his head. “Yeah, well, don’t make that known here, okay?”

“Why are we circling the island?”

“Men are forbidden on the island.”

“What?”

“Luffy is the exception.”

You put your hand on his arm, holding back a giggle. “So, you’re going to get shot down? I can’t wait to see this.”

Trafalgar clicks his tongue, unamused. “Unfortunately, you won’t. We made a deal with Hancock.”

“Disappointing…” You trail off, your fingers slipping from his forearm. But when you look back at him, his eyes are trained on the spot your touch was.

“Docking!” Penguin yells.

It happens quickly and with skilled practice. A wood plank is placed between the Polar Tang and the patch of land, and the crew piles onto the island.

Multiple women are on the shore, most setting up tables, tents, and a giant curtain printed with Jolly Rogers. The sun shines down on the grass, and you realise it's the first time since Sabaody that you’ve seen such greenery.

“The Kuja Pirates,” Trafalgar says in your ear, pulling you from your mind. “Heard of them?”

You shake your head, not daring to turn to face him. “But this is where Luffy’s staying?”

“Yep, I’m to treat him until he’s better, and then he stays here. It’s a perfect location to hide him from the Navy. You’d know how annoying they are, considering you’re just as if not more.”

You gape at him, a slight grin pulling the corner of your lip upwards. “You’re kidding—”

A delicate hand on your shoulder pulls you away from him suddenly. You watch as Trafalgar keeps walking, never sparing a glance back.

“Come with me,” You’re met with a woman with blonde hair. “I’m Marguerite.”

You tell her your name and follow her, though you are unsure where.

“We have so many clothes for you to choose from,” She giggles. “It isn’t often we get women visitors. Most of the time, it’s men trying to infiltrate.”

A pang of grief hits you in the chest. It’s unfair these women are still under the threat of unknown men despite having their own island. Though Marguerite doesn’t look too upset about it, you know they are more than capable of handling those men on their own. It’s inspiring.

“Here,” She continues, shoving you lightly into a tent.

Immediately, another woman hands you a red bikini. “Try this on.”

And then you’re swept up by the group of women. Silks and linens are thrown at you, tried on and discarded when you decline the colour or fit of a piece. The women are in awe of your power. They ask you to mend or adjust certain places on their outfits, and you're more than happy to help.

You hear the Heart Pirates murmuring from their spot on the grass behind the tent walls, food piled high on their plates. Despite your initial hesitation, you laugh along with the women, trading secrets and tips that you could only do with Nami and Robin.

You feel comfortable here.

It isn’t until you emerge from the tent that the men go quiet. After knowing you for a fortnight, seeing you in such little clothing has them hollering. You grit your teeth.

“Enough,” Trafalgar snaps at his crew. You won’t admit it, but the commanding tone of his voice warms your cheeks. “Get back to your food, morons.”

Marguerite laughs at him, and then she turns to you. “Remember, strength equals beauty.”

You nod, smiling, adjusting the straps of the bikini you wear with your power. It’s something you hold dear to you for a long while.

“Line up if you want seconds!” A tall woman says, laughing when the Heart Pirates stumble over each other to form a queue.

“You better get in there if you’re hungry,” Marguerite smiles. “Looks like they’ll take it all.”

You spot Bepo near the front of the line and thank Marguerite for all she’s done.

“It’s my pleasure,” She waves as you snake through the crowd.

“Hey,” You greet Bepo. “What’s on the menu?”

“Uh…” His eyes look directly into yours, his body stiff. “Stew.”

You squint at him. “You wouldn’t mind if I skip the line, then?”

“Never.”

You roll your eyes at his clipped tone. Scanning the crowd, Trafalgar is nowhere to be seen. Someone in front of you hands you a bowl, and you thank them, stepping to the front of the line.

“Hello,” The pirate smiles. “I’m Aphelandra.”

You tell her your name and stick out your bowl when she gestures for it.

“Must be weird being in a submarine full of men,” She rambles. “Are they all stretchy?”

You’re taken aback by her question but laugh. “No, the only stretchy guy I know is Luffy.”

She gasps. “So, you know Luffy?”

“He’s my captain.”

“Really? We must tell the Snake Princess,” With a full bowl, you’re pulled beside her. “Eat, you must regain your strength.”

With your eyes on the trees, you do as she says. You swear you saw a glimpse of Traflagar’s patterned hat when you emerged from the tent. “Have you seen the guy with the funny hat?”

Aphelandra smiles down at you. “The spotty one? He went into the forest.”

“Thanks,” You grin, placing your empty bowl on the small table beside her and making a beeline for the trees.

It smells of pine and the rotting wood, and if it weren't for the crashing waves, you’d think you were on an island far away, deep in the trees.

Your hair snags on a twig before you decide to call for him. “Trafalgar?”

His response is almost immediate. “Here, sweetheart.”

You follow the sound of his voice. Trafalgar sits against a tree, a burgundy bottle between his fingers.

“Whatcha doing out here?”

He shrugs, sporting his usual bored look. “Not a very social person.”

You sit in silence as he sips his drink. The birds sing tunes you’ve never heard, and the waves crash against the cliff faces harmoniously. There’s an inkling of anxiety stirring your insides, but you know you’ll get through it. What did Trafalgar say? It only hurts this much right now... You repeat it like a mantra. It will get better.

“Don’t think too hard. You might hurt yourself again.”

Scoffing, you shove his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Trafalgar gives you a sidelong glance, a smirk on his lips. “How’s your side? Getting better?”

You nod, your fingertips running over the bandages unconsciously. “The medication you gave me helps a lot, I barely have any pain.”

“Good.”

You study his side profile: the slope of his nose, the harsh cut of his cheekbone, the two gold hoops in his lobe, the dark hair that makes up his goatee... Swallowing, you exhale shakily.

“I—”

“Excuse me.”

You jump, looking up to see Marguerite and smiling when she greets you. You rub your palms against your thighs. What were you going to say to him just then?

“Has Luffy regained consciousness?”

Trafalgar shakes his head and keeps his voice even. “At this point, it’s up to his spirit and whether he wants to live or die. Nothing I can do anymore.”

You’re surprised. He hasn’t told you that.

“Marguerite! Hurry up!”

The blonde girl turns, nodding. “Take good care of him until he gets better.”

Trafalgar keeps the lip of the bottle up to his mouth but makes no move to drink.

“His spirit, huh?”

He sets the bottle into the dirt and twists it to stay upright. His demeanour shifts so seamlessly that you barely see it happen.

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.”

You look down at yourself. Usually, you’d feel embarrassed, but Trafalgar seems uncaring of such things. His eyes don’t criticise you, and you swear there’s a shimmer of something close to appreciation in his gaze.

“I love it here,” You say, tilting your face to the sun. The distant chatter of the Heart and Kuja Pirates only elevates the warm feeling in your chest.

“Then stay.”

“What?” You ask, startled.

Trafalgar closes his eyes and leans his head on the bark. You haven’t encountered his expression yet and can only interpret it as something close to pain.

“I’m going wherever Luffy goes.”

He sighs shakily. “Then it’s settled.”

The air is thick, and you don’t dare move. You frown, mind racing. Have you done something wrong? Said something?

“Why would you—”

“Luffy! Calm down!”

The alarmed scream has you running toward the submarine, Trafalgar not far behind you.

You see Jinbe standing on the edge of the cliff and reach him in time to see the roof of the Polar Tang explode, and something fly out the top. You're in too much shock to comprehend what’s happening. And before you know it, Luffy’s bandaged body falls to the grass with a sickening thump.

“Luffy…”

“Something’s wrong,” Jinbe mumbles beside you.

Your captain slowly pushes himself to his knees, his fingers digging into the dirt. “Ace.”

Your heart stops, and you grab Trafalgar’s wrist. The doctor is frozen.

“Ace.”

Cries fall from Luffy’s lips, and he rises before you can approach him. “Where’s my brother?”

You stumble backward, Trafalgar’s chest is hard against your head. Clutching your stomach, you feel sick. He wraps his arm around you, his forearm leaning on your collarbones, barring you from running over there.

Luffy moves before you see him, and then he’s gone.

“That way!” Penguin yells, pointing to the area you were not 30 seconds ago. The Heart Pirates go after him, but Trafalgar holds you close to him.

“You’re okay,” He whispers, steadying you. His breath is hot on your ear, and your body almost betrays you.

Jinbe watches Luffy run around with worry etched on his face. “What happens if he stays in this state?”

“If he keeps flailing around,” Trafalgar says, narrowing his eyes. “He’s more likely to open his wound, and if that happens, then he’s dead.”

You cover your face with your palms, unable to form words.

“Quick! He’s down!”

Tears blur your vision as you look up, but as soon as they jump on Luffy, the Heart Pirates get flung into the sky. “I have to get to my brother! Get off me!”

“Oh, Luffy,” You cry, watching as he runs through the curtain separating Amazon Lily and the bay. The pirates stop before they cross the threshold. You want to yell at them for stopping, but remember what Marguerite said.

“Repair the ship,” Trafalgar commands behind you, removing his arm to throw it toward the submarine.

“Yes, captain,” A few of them obey, boarding the ship and immediately getting to work.

You snatch Luffy’s hat from the rock when Trafalgar’s back is turned before standing on wobbly legs and running toward the curtain.

“Hey, hey!” Bepo yells after you, but you don’t look back.

Trafalgar yells your name, worry etched in his tone, but you refuse to stop.

You must get to your captain.

— Scene 9 —

You trudge through the trees, insects zipping past your ears every few seconds. It's humid in the forest, and you wipe the sweat from your forehead.

A stick snaps behind you, and you spin around, your hands out. “Jinbe.”

The Fishman grunts and walks past you. “We must find him. I fear he’ll get himself hurt if we don’t soon.”

You silently agree, following him over logs and through thick brush. Luffy’s hat sits at your back, the string around your neck. You’d never put it on, but you don’t want it ruined before you give it to him.

The ground rumbles under your feet, and you stagger. “What was that?”

Jinbe quickens his pace. “This way.”

You jump over a particularly large branch and try to keep up with him. A scream echoes through the trees, and your body freezes in its spot.

Jinbe glances over his shoulder. “The only danger here is Luffy.”

“Luffy…” You whisper. You can't imagine the agony he feels right now.

Another scream is heard before there's a crash, one that causes the trees to sway uncontrollably. You see rocks flying in all directions and duck to avoid them, using Sew to weave threads above you to catch stray debris. Birds fly overhead at alarming speeds, and you can only guess what was thrown into the mountain to create such an explosion.

“We’re close, quickly.”

Before you know it, you see your captain hunched over on the ground, his forehead on the dirt. You gasp at the blood on his hands and back.

Luffy lifts his head, and you have to look away from the sheer torment on his face.

“Luffy, listen to me,” Jinbe calls. “Your brother is—”

“Don’t say it!” Your captain screams. “You think I don’t know? You think I think this is a dream?”

You wipe the silent tears that run down your cheeks. It's jarring to see someone you’ve seen be carefree for as long as you’ve known him like this. You feel sick watching him as tendrils of your thread lift the debris from around your captain.

“If this were a dream, I’d already be awake, don’t you think?”

“Luffy…” You mutter.

“This isn’t a dream… Is it?” Luffy sobs. “He’s really dead, isn’t he?”

Jinbe sighs. “I’m afraid so.”

Your captain starts hyperventilating, his breaths short and his face wet with blood and tears.

“Luffy…” You call, noticing how his body freezes. His eyes find yours, and his jaw falls open.

He murmurs your name. “Is this a dream, too?”

You stumble over to him, your hands out before you. “No, this isn’t a dream. I’m here.”

“Wha— How? Did you see Ace, too?”

You crouch in front of him and shake your head. “I didn’t, but I was at Marineford when we picked you up.”

‘We?” Luffy asks, his voice holding a tinge of hope. “Are the others here?”

“No,” You say, wiping his face. “It's only me.”

Luffy’s cries don’t lessen. “Are they dead, too?”

You feel your bottom lip tremble at the question. You shrug pathetically. “I don’t know.”

Luffy falls back down to the dirt. “I’m so tired.”

You throw Jinbe a desperate look, feeling Luffy slip through your fingers.

“I’m so weak!” Luffy suddenly yells. “I’m useless!”

“Luffy—”

“How can you call me your captain? I’m pathetic.” He stands and runs at the large boulder just outside of the trees. He slams his fists into the rock, breaking it into pieces. “I couldn’t save my brother or my crew!”

Jinbe walks up beside you as threads halt the stones from flying into you, and you struggle under their weight.

“Fuck!” Luffy screams, punching another rock. “Useless!”

Jinbe says your name. “I think you should leave.”

Your hand covers your mouth, and your expression morphs into shock. Did you hear him right? You feel the needles of your power wanting to escape, to tighten around him. Your Devil Fruit purrs in your ear as it drops the rocks a few feet away and aims for the Fishman instead.

“Please don’t make me force you.”

“No! I’m not leaving my captain here!” You scream, threads weaving from your fingers. “What kind of pirate—what kind of person would that make me?”

“There’s no time for questions,” Jinbe exclaims. “Go!”

“I can’t—”

“I’ll bring him back safely. You don’t need to see this.”

Your power cracks and fizzles out under your skin as you grapple for it. But it's useless unless you want to lose control, and you know better than to let that happen.

“Jinbe,” You cry, body too weak to fight him. Luffy hunches over with his hands on his knees, yelling. “Help him.”

“I will,” He waves you away. “Now go!”

You sprint back to the bay, forcing your legs to run. You’ve betrayed your loyalty.

Your cheeks are stained with tears and dirt, and your hands are covered in blood. With weak knees, you try jumping over the fallen logs as you did before, but now you’re exhausted, and it feels like they are rocks tied to your feet.

You sob frantically, stopping to press your palm against a tree every few minutes. Shaking your head, you sniffle. The bay isn’t too far away, and you can hear the seagulls chirping. Your fingers wipe under your eyes, though you know it won’t do anything. You can imagine the state of you.

You hear Bepo calling your name as you stumble through the curtain. “What happened?”

There’s blood all over you, which you failed to notice before; the staining on your hands was just the start of it. You stare at your hands as panic rises inside you. Who’s blood is this?

“Where did you go?” Trafalgar’s harsh voice hits your ears before his hand grips your bicep. “Who did this?”

“Nobody,” You cry, holding onto Trafalgar’s fingers. “Luffy, he—”

You don't hear what the doctor says before he catches you. “Okay, let’s get you to the ship.”

You shake your head, forgetting the blood on your hands when you fist his shirt. “No! I can’t go there. Not with Luffy out here.”

“Okay, well, where do you want to go?”

If Jinbe were to be trusted, which seems like a silly thought to question, you know Luffy would be okay. It takes your mind a while to accept that your body needs rest. The adrenaline from seeing Luffy and then running is wearing off, and the fatigue you’ve ignored hits you all at once.

You sniff, pulling him weakly to a rock. “I just need to lie down, and then I can fight for him.”

Trafalgar makes no sound when you push him to the ground. Your breathing is calming down, though hiccups still pass your lips.

“Who were you fighting against? Did they do this to you?”

“Just sit still for an hour, okay?” You whimper, putting your head on his lap, his jeans rough against your cheek. You can feel his thigh tense underneath you, clearly not used to having someone so close. Sniffling once more, your muscles relax against the ground. “No more questions.”

When you close your eyes, Trafalgar says nothing, and the waves crashing against the rocks are just as soothing as the hand on your shoulder.

— Scene 10 —

There’s a hand patting your head when you wake. It’s not gentle, and there's no rhythm, and when you lift your head, you notice the bandages wrapped around his legs. When did Trafalgar get injured?

The sky is dark, and the stars sparkle above you. It’s a sight you’ve missed.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

“Luffy,” You're in shock at the familiar voice, scrabbling to your knees so you’re not leaning on him anymore. “Are you okay? Why are you here?”

Your captain shrugs, a dopey grin on his face. “I don’t think so. I’m here to say goodbye.”

“What?” You shake your head.

“Straw Hat. Pack it up.”

Luffy sighs, his wide eyes glassy. “You gotta go.”

You pause, a crease forming between your eyebrows. “What? Where?”

“Traffy’s going to take you with him.”

Shaking your head, you don’t dare take your eyes off Luffy when you hear someone walk up behind you. “I’m staying here with you.”

“You can’t. We have to get stronger.”

“I don’t understand.”

Luffy puts his hands on your shoulders. “You’re going to go with Traffy, and I’ll see you in two years.”

Two years. “Wait, what? What do you mean two years?”

Strong hands slip under your armpits from behind and lug you to your feet. You feel your body lift off the ground but do nothing. You’re too shocked to form complaints against whoever’s taking you away.

“Meet me back at Sabaody in two years.”

“No, Luffy. I’m here now. Why would I do that?” You struggle against them, your power still sleeping under your skin.

“We won’t stand a chance in the New World,” Luffy stands. “Get stronger.”

The person leading you to the Polar Tang whispers an apology as they spin you around and throw you over their shoulder.

“Bepo?” Your voice comes out in a cracked whimper when you realise it's the bear carrying you.

“I’m sorry,” He repeats, holding you tightly.

“Luffy!”

“Please,” Your captain says your name. “It's the only way. I’ll be fine here!”

“What about the others?” You cry. “How will they know?”

“I have a plan.”

You scoff, bordering on laughter. “Of course you do.”

“Get stronger!” Luffy yells. “And I’ll see you in the New World!”

Shaking your head, a crazed laugh falls from your lips in disbelief. You should’ve known he’d do something like this. He never does anything half-assed.

Get stronger.

“Are you out of your mind?”

Luffy cackles, tears bordering his waterline. “Yeah!”

Get stronger.

If he can smile at a time like this, especially after what he’s been through, then so can you.

And if Luffy trusts Trafalgar Law to train you in the two years he promised, then so do you. You trust Luffy with your life.

Swallowing your emotion, you smile back at him. “Fine! I’ll see you in two years, captain!”

Get stronger.

You hear Luffy whoop with joy, and before you know it, the door of the Polar Tang slams behind you. Bepo lets you down, steadying you as the submarine goes under.

It hits you just before you take the first step. “Luffy’s hat!”

“It’s okay, I gave it to him,” You turn to see Trafalgar leaning against the wall with his katana back on his shoulder. “You feeling okay, sweetheart?”

“Physically, kinda,” You say, holding onto the railing as you descend the stairs. “Emotionally, no.”

Trafalgar clicks his tongue. “Expected.”

“Captain, maybe she should eat…”

You’re so terribly worn out that your eyes are dry. There’s no use crying when it doesn’t serve a purpose. You’re here now, and you will be for the next two years. You hold onto the hope that you’ll see your crew on Sabaody after that time, and that’s enough for a small smile to grace your face.

You peer up at Bepo, who smiles sheepishly. “Hungry?”

If polar bears could blush, they’d now look like Bepo. “Uh, no. Just a suggestion, you know… Food helps everything.”

He sounds like Luffy.

“Can you make rice balls?” You ask Trafalgar.

“Me?” He acts like it offends him.

“Bepo let it slip that they’re your favourite, so I know you’d make them best.”

“Tsk,” He glares at the mink. “I’m busy.”

“Surely not enough to decline making your guest food, Traffy.”

“Traffy, huh?” Bepo snorts.

Trafalgar runs his tongue over his teeth.

“Please?” You smile.

“No. You’re a pest. Go bother someone else.”

With that, he disappears down the stairs. You stand there with Bepo, the sound of pots clanging making your stomach rumble.

“I can’t remember the last time he made rice balls,” Bepo says. “He makes other foods, but that one is special to him.”

You go to ask why, but think against it. Trafalgar wouldn’t want his crew members airing out his business. Instead, you shrug.

“Maybe one day I’ll persuade him.”

Bepo laughs, scratching behind his ear. “Good luck with that.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Anyway, let’s go ask Penguin what’s for dinner,” The bear says. “I wanted rice balls, too.”

As you turn the corner to the kitchen, the area is quiet.

“That’s weird,” Bepo says. “Penguin doesn’t shut up when he cooks…”

A familiar katana leans against the counter when you enter, and before you can decipher why, Bepo gasps behind you, confirming your outlandish suspicion—which, as it turns out, wasn’t so in the first place.

“What filling do you want? I’m not asking again,” Trafalgar’s voice holds irritation. He stands at the stove without his hat, his hair dishevelled. You refrain from giggling.

Bepo makes a surprised sound. “No way…”

You laugh, stunned, and slide onto the bar stool beneath the counter. Trafalgar’s hat sits beside you, and you eye it as you think about what type of filling you want.

He nods at your request and begins preparing it immediately. Bepo hasn’t moved from his spot in the doorway.

“Snap out of it, idiot.”

“Sorry.” Bepo lowers his head and ambles to you to sulk in the chair beside you.

Trafalgar works silently, seeming comfortable as he rolls the premade rice into triangles. He’s meticulous, using a practised amount of rice to protect the filling, and a knife to slice the nori into even strips.

Watching him be so careful with the onigiri makes you wonder if there’s more to his delicate touch. One that can bring warmth and comfort to someone. If that translates to his intentions, and if he really wants you here, or if he felt pressured by Luffy to take you on board.

The question bubbles out of you before you can help it. Despite the setting, it's not one about food.

“Why did you tell me to stay on Amazon Lily?” Your voice surprises him.

Bepo looks at you incredulously. The question hangs in the air, and you see Trafalgar’s shoulders tense.

“I’m gonna go…” Bepo murmurs, slipping from the chair and running from the kitchen.

Trafalgar sighs, rolling his eyes at his crew member. His back is to you, but you can tell he’s thinking of a reply.

“I figured you’d had enough of a submarine full of men. You seem happy on the island.”

There’s something unsaid in his words, something deeper, but you’re too unsure what it could be to delve into it. Instead, you smile.

“And here I was, thinking I was just a pawn,” You laugh, running your fingers along the brim of his soft hat. The memory of a few days ago burns deep inside you. It makes you think about his hands again. “Besides, you’re not allowed there, so why would I stay?”

“Mm?” Although the hum sounds non-committal, you can feel him side-eyeing you.

You wouldn’t admit it, but you’ve grown fond of him. But your cheeks warm when you realise the connotation of your rhetorical question, and your focus remains on his hat. “Who will I annoy if not you?”

Trafalgar sighs and laughs a breathy laugh. “You’re going to be a pain in my ass, aren't you sweetheart?”

You raise your eyebrows and shrug, feigning innocence. His easy laughter gives you all the evidence that he wants you on his submarine. “Two years isn’t that long, Traffy. You’ll survive.”

He mumbles something under his breath and turns around, two plates in his hands.

You take one from him. On the plate sits two onigiris, each a perfect triangle with a strip of nori on the bottom. “Thank you.”

Trafalgar grunts and picks up one of his onigiris. You copy him, eyeing how he bites the top off precisely.

“What’s in yours?” You ask, chewing. The flavour explodes in your mouth, and you refrain from moaning in delight. You can feel Trafalgar’s eyes on you, but don’t look up as you play with a stray piece of rice on the plate.

“Grilled salmon,” He speaks when he finishes swallowing. “Do you like it?”

The question seems loaded, as if he’s not just asking about rice balls. It catches you off guard, the discernable keenness. Maybe you didn’t notice it before, with all your exhaustion and constant unconsciousness, but he’s hanging on your every word. His eyes are full of hope before he blinks, and it vanishes. You swear you saw it, and it fills you with shy satisfaction.

He definitely wants you on his submarine.

Remembering his original question, you nod. “It’s good.”

It's an understatement, but Trafalgar seems content with your answer and continues eating his food.

“You can call me Law, you know. No need to be so formal now that you’ll be here for a while.”

Your eyes widen, and a soft ‘oh’ leaves your lips.

Trafalgar is quick to speak. “Only if you’re comfortable. I know I’m considered a rival and all that.”

You mull over his request, eyeing his hunched posture and countless tattoos beneath his elbows. His hair flops over his forehead, and his lips are twisted into an awkward pout, and you realise this is the same man you saw on your first night.

“Law,” You whisper, and when you look at him, your mind plays a trick on you because his cheeks are tinted pink, and there’s a vulnerable look in his eye.

A fortnight isn’t a long time, and despite your quarrels, you think you’ll get to know Trafalgar Law much more than you anticipated.

#trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece #labyrinth trilogy #— ann writes!

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nemesyaaa · 2 days ago

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if you caught me drooling at the moodboard, it's not true. but anyways, it was INCREDIBLE. your writings is always so good, literally filled with so much details. i think i should be worried more about rafe's situation but he was so cute. like reader, I just want to take care of him. i have a thing for loser. still not over the fact that this huge big guy moaned in the shower, it's gonna stay in my mind for a while 🤫‼️your aesthetic are so insane everytime

Eventually, you’re done with the first part and have an excuse to turn away from him. You get back on your feet to reach for the bandages but a groan coming from behind stops you. You turn around and freeze when Rafe buries his nose into your lower stomach, barely brushing the top of your mound over your pajama shorts. He hisses through his teeth in pain as he pushes your shirt up with his bloodied knuckles. — «when Rafe buries his nose into your lower stomach, barely brushing the top of your mound over your pajama shorts» SAY NO MORE. i'm gonna think of this a lot 😩😩 deep weakness.

The short trip to the shower is awkwardly silent, you have to lead Rafe and make sure he doesn’t trip. You stare more than any Twilight character as you help each other strip. You try to avoid the bruises on Rafe’s torso, but he chuckles about how “You should see the other guy, kitty.” — I just want to marry him everytime he talks ngl. and help the kitty nickname 🦋🦋🦋 you should see the butterflies in my tummy actually

“Don’t see why you’re so insecure about these, I like them just fine.” He huffs, bending down to motorboat you before pulling you in the shower through his grunts of pain and exertion. — I love his pathetic softie ass 😔😔‼️

You like to feel like a boiling lobster in the shower, so you turn the dial the same direction as always. You’re worried that Rafe will hate the sting but when the water hits, he moans with an open mouth, eyes shut tight. Before your next breath, you’re pushed against the wall and now the blood’s in your mouth as you're taken into a french kiss right out the gate. — mentions of rafe moaning and you think i will not notice ?? 😋😋😋 this is everything. wish WE could hear the stories

“All this is because of you, you know that? You fucked me up and made pummel the crap outta that guy.” The vibrations his clumsy words send through you gives you a serious case of the shivers, so you distract yourself by running your fingers through his matted hair. Because of course there’s blood on his head too. You’d usually chalk what he’s saying up to drugs and insanity, but with Rafe you just never know. — someone is mad, pathetic and jealous. someone want to be my boyfriend so bad 🫡

summary: situationship!rafe cameron x afab nerd!reader

cw: angst undertones w/ a hopeful ending, black cat!coded reader x whatever rafe would be, suggestive action in the shower & mentions of off screen nsfw (cum and thigh fucking but the latter is a bit more graphic lol) , class differences, rafe is pathetic and weird, implied drug use, rafe beats a man but you can decide if he killed him, reader has implied mental health issues and low self esteem, ambiguous feelings on rafe’s part (he said ily but he could be lying), dark content themes, rafe calls reader kitty in both a mean way and a pet name way, if the thing with reader’s first crush sounds too real that’s cause it is 🤫, started my period while i was formatting this (i just thought y’all should know)

wc: 1.9k+

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

consider commissioning me 🫀

“Hey, babe, would you be a good kitty and let me in?” Is what you’re greeted with when you swing open your screen door. Rafe Cameron looks pleased as punch, all things considered, soaking wet due to the pouring rain and no doubt high as a kite.

The slurred speech doesn’t alarm you as much as the river of blood flowing from his mouth.

“Jesus Christ, Rafe, what the fuck?” You try to sound harsh but the fuck is noticably softer than your other words and Rafe smiles, more blood drips down his chin.

You look over his shoulder to see his bike on its side in the dirt, it’s raining and you just know he’ll be pissed to see the mus clinging to it tomorrow. But for right now, you have an injured situationship to patch up.

He stumbles as you struggle to yank him aside, and he sways but collapses on your couch. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to lose your shit immediately. The audacity of this man to waltz in on you barely alive and expect some twisted kind of comfort, after everything.

“I was studying you know, textbooks are expensive so don’t start getting your blood on them.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, I know.”

Rafe grunts but keeps his body away from your books. That’s the least he can do, the bare minimum. You sigh and walk over him, kneeling in front of the couch. His eyes are dazed and unfocused as you brush the hair away from his forehead, but his fingers twitch.

“Why did you come here, Rafe? To me?” You whisper, tired and unamused.

You’re startled by his harsh cough, his fingers twitch in your direction again, “ ‘Was nowhere else, wanted you.”

Isn’t that good enough?

You blink dumbly at that, but you have no answer for his crazed ramblings so you slap your knees and make your way to the bathroom. You procure a wet washcloth and some measly bandages, he would just have to deal with it. Rafe’s eyes drag towards you when you kneel back in front of him and bring the cloth to his mouth.

You avoid his stare as you sop up the copious amounts of blood, praying that this wouldn’t need a visit to the hospital. In some ways, you’ve seen too much blood since Rafe Cameron decided to make a mockery of your existence. The gaggle of rich girls he used to have on each arm disappeared but he excused it by detailing his plans to lead you on in front of his friends, checking to see if you were in ear shot.

There’s nothing you did, in your mind. You stuck to yourself and somehow invited the attention of some psycho. That’s the hardest part of the situation, you can’t pinpoint a true beginning. You can only remember being in this murky middle, devoid of an ending. Rafe does have a pretty face though, unfortunately, the water from cloth making his skin glisten. You’ll throw the rag out after this, there’s no point trying to get the stain of blood out of anything.

“Rafe Cameron, what the hell are you-“

“ ‘Smells good as fuck, love you.”

You refuse to admit that you love him too, you can’t give him that. Okay, now shit’s really getting out of hand. He dips his head to get closer to your pussy but the second you see the tip of his tongue touch your shorts, you direct his face back to your stomach. You’ve never gone further than ‘will they-won’t they’ type touches with Rafe, but you just can’t give in no matter how much you lie awake at night thinking about it.

“What?”

“He said maybe I should lay off you so he could have a piece instead, and I just…. lost it. Why should some chump get a part of what’s all mine?” He says with a startling amount of clarity, voice flat and low.

You don’t designate him with a response, and truth be told he doesn’t want you too. You stretch for what in actuality is a $3 dollar package of hello kitty bandaids and rip the white coverings off a few of them. He makes god awful sounds as you apply them to his mouth, head, and hands. The mess in his hair probably isn't his but your conscience won't let you leave it alone. Something foreign to your head and your heart won’t let you leave him alone.

You decide to put the knife in your back all on your own and look up into his eyes. They’re too half lidded to get a clear reading on them but you’re afraid to rely on the emotions underneath the surface. You used to be scared that he couldn’t feel anything. Now, the idea of Rafe Cameron believing he’s in love is far more terrifying.

He’s a bit ridiculous with My Melody, Kuromi, and Keroppi all over himself, you can’t help the small smile that comes over you. You quickly flatten it before he can get too pleased with himself but the fingers curled against your tummy spasm as they spread out to caress your skin. Rafe has an unreadable look on his face as he smears blood over your womb, but you think if you step away he’ll lunge at you.

“I can help you wash the blood off in the shower.” Saying that is in no way a promise of commitment or change, but it might be the closest you ever get.

You’re used to scraps, scraps are fine.

And well, for much you pride yourself on being perfectly fine being alone, it’s achingly human to crave being loved more than anything else. You wander aimlessly because you won’t go where you’re not wanted, and for the longest you’ve been wanted nowhere. But here you are, obsessed over by someone who everyone wants.

Maybe you’re sick of trying to make all the right decisions if this is where it gets you, cold and alone. Is it so bad to not care anymore? It couldn’t be worse than when your first crush told you he loved you and then had a baby with your bully, you reason. Or when he dated one of your friends and she would “joke” about marrying you when you were alone.

So you don’t back away when he slows the trajectory of your calloused hands and drags them up his body. Your nails are bitten unevenly, some leave scratches on his abs and some don’t. It’s exhilarating to see Rafe Caneron’s thread come undone, to watch as he tilts his head back and sighs. You rest your hands on his pecs and kiss the hollow of his throat before you can stop yourself.

You won’t mention the squeak he tries to stifle with the back of his balled up fist.

You step away from him to be vulnerable in return, his satisfaction is much more evident this time around. He rips your camisole in two and unhooks your bra too well, clearly having had practice. He cups your breasts in his hands with tenderness that you’d think is out of character for him. Rafe doesn’t even honk them in the dude bro way that you’d always assumed he would. No, he… massages the flesh in his palms between slow squeezes.

“Don’t see why you’re so insecure about these, I like them just fine.” He huffs, bending down to motorboat you before pulling you in the shower through his grunts of pain and exertion.

You notice that he doesn’t steal a glance at your pussy, almost like he’s scared of seeing it bare and puffy… and wet.

You go with it against your better judgment, until Rafe pulls away to pant against your collarbone. His next kiss is softer, shy like it’s an unknown thing to the two of you. His lips glide and mesh with yours as the water trails down in between your slick bodies. You feel like you’re going to pass out but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

You open your eyes to see the water at the base of the shower run red, and you lose yourself in the swirling motion until the pop of your honey scented shampoo bottle lid snaps you out of it.

“Turn around kitty, ‘said I'd help you scrub down.”

He’d be embarrassed if you said it, but it’s obvious he’s never done this before. He’s like a bull in a china shop gathering you up in a loose bundle and sloppily spreading the soap throughout it. You stay silent, preferring to bask in the absurdity of it all.

Washing Rafe’s hair takes less time, but like he did when you were cleaning him up earlier, he chooses to stare at you the entire time. You scratch his head to really work the shampoo in there and get the dried blood out, he latches onto your wrists and lets his eyes drift shut. He makes it inconvenient to help him when he kisses your jawline, but you allow it.

“Thanks, you’re pretty good with your hands.” Rafe whispers with a wry grin, pecking your mouth and dropping to his knees. Your pomegranate body wash in his uninjured hand. The amount he squirts onto the dollar store loofah on his other hand is a touch too generous.

You have to replace the hello kitty bandaids when the originals fall off after Rafe steps out of the shower minutes later, he insists on it. You make him lean against the bathroom counter and watch as you take a second shower to clean out the cum, he wears a petulant frown the whole time.

You’re bent over that same counter when you’re back in his orbit, teary eyes wide as he fucks your plush thighs.

The rain turns into a thunderstorm outside.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe fic #rafe fanfiction #outer banks x you #outer banks x reader #outer banks smut #tw blood #cw violence

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darlingdaisyfarm · 2 days ago

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₊˚ʚ Rain in the woods (Ford Pines x fem!reader) ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

part 3

author note: wow. oh. I can’t believe i finished this :')

this ridiculous, tender unhinged love letter to Ford (and to all of you) has been such a wild ride. tbh i started writing this fic as a half-joke, half-desperate need to get the scenario out of my head and now it’s grown into something so much more intimate than i ever imagined

to everyone who liked, reblogged, who wrote to me such wonderful sweet comments - i read every one and I love you more than Ford loves overthinking. seriously :) your support means everything, and I hope you'll like this final chapter. I’m so grateful for you all <3

ALSO sorry if there are a lot of kisses here….... ummm well I mean, you can't really blame me bc if Ford had let me, I would have just eaten him whole

nsfw, minors DNI

You don’t notice, but his hands are trembling when he reaches for the first aid kit he’d somehow already brought with him. Had he been planning this? Or maybe. . . he just couldn’t stay away, couldn’t bear the thought of you trying to deal with it on your own.

Ford tries to maintain his usual level of calm composure, but the sight of your exposed thigh makes it so much harder than he anticipated. He feels so conflicted, his thoughts are somewhere between concern, desire and disgusting guilt. He’s a scientist, an explorer, a goddamned professional, not some pathetic old man fantasising about—

“This is going to sting,” Ford warns, trying to not look at your underwear along with your exposed body parts. He can’t be the one to make you uncomfortable now, not when you’re already in pain. “I’ll try to be quick, but it will hurt. I won’t push it, but. . . you need to stay still.”

He avoids meeting your wide, doe-like, scared, no, more like nervous eyes. Those eyes had undone him countless times before, always so trusting, so impossibly soft, curious, full of life. He dies every time when you look at him like that.

“Yes, okay,” you answer, though you’re not sure if it’s for him or for you. He pours the disinfectant into a cotton pad and just as he prepares to press it to your skin, you tense. “Ford, please. . . be gentle, okay?”

“I will, if it’s too much just tell me.” Ford still doesn’t dare meet your eyes, not when he knows his own will betray him. Instead, he focuses on the wound, on the crimson smear of blood that trickles down your skin. But it’s not that damn injury he wants to fix, it’s you, all of you. He wants to be needed by you, to be the one who makes you whole again.

Ford prepares himself and trying his best, he gently presses the cotton pad to your skin what makes you gasp, oh, sweet mercy, that voice of yours. It’s all he can do to stop himself from leaning in and capturing your lips in tender kiss, getting between your legs and taking you right there. He keeps going, though, his big hands too careful, like you’re made of porcelain. He doesn’t want to hurt you, never, but he just wishes he could be inside you right now, show you how much he’s desperate for you.

“Ahh! Ford, h-hurts!” your fingers are gripping his wrist so tight, nails digging in, and fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking this. You are hurt, in pain, for god’s sake, but all he can see is you beneath him, making those same sounds for an entirely different reason as he makes love to you.

“Shh, I know, I know it does. I know, but you have to let me do this. If I don’t, the wound could get infected. Tetanus, sepsis are not things to take lightly.”

Goddamn, why he’s so close to places he shouldn’t even be thinking about. You’re laying there so beautiful, helpless, voice pleading with him to stop, it’s driving Ford crazy. His cock twitches in his pants and he hates himself for it, hates how his mind creates an image of you crying out his name like that, begging him to keep going instead of to stop.

He feels the throb in his chest, but in his groin too.

“N-no more, fuck, ugh!” obviously it’s a plea for mercy, but to his traitorous brain, it sounds like—

Ford frowns, looking way too serious than usual as he tries to make his dirty thoughts go away, tries to focus on the wound and not the way your skin feels, but goddamn why are you so soft and warm and why he’s so damn close to you. And then his gaze betrays him, lowering down to the curve of your inner thigh, so close to where the hem of your panties teases him mercilessly.

“That’s enough, please!” you begin, biting down on your lip as the pain grows.

“Don’t move too much, it’ll hurt more,” Ford’s tone sounds rougher than he meant to. “I’m almost done.”

She’s in pain, you disgusting old idiot. She’s fucking suffering and you’re—

“Please, stop!”

Ford freezes, stiffening. That’s enough, you’d said, but it’s not, it’s fucking not. It’s never enough. Not your skin, not your voice, not the way you cling to him, not the way you beg, not the way you look at him.

The cotton pad is soaked now in your blood too, pressing too hard against your skin before Ford even realises it. You wince, gasping again and Ford can't help it anymore. His eyes drop to your panties, how they hug your body and his cock twitches in his pants.

He’s a grown man. He should be able to handle this. But all he can see is you, laid out before him like this, looking at him with those needy eyes, begging him to take you, to fuck you.

“Just sit sti—” before he finishes his sentence, he unintentionally presses the cotton harder into your wound, too lost in his own fantasies and the sharp burst of pain makes you hiss so you move involuntarily, your leg jerking straight into his crotch and—

You feel it.

Your foot accidentally brushes against something unmistakably hard. You didn’t mean to move that way, absolutely. But the second your limb drags against him, you feel it. The hardness beneath his pants. His body reacting to you. To this.

And neither of you move.

Ford is first to speak.

“I— I’m sorry,” he blurts. “It’s a natural physiological response. Adrenaline, heightened states of focus, they can trigger. . . well, unintended reactions. Nothing to do with— nothing to do with you.”

The sharp pain in your thigh momentarily forgotten. “Physiological response?” you repeat. “Ford, are you seriously trying to explain away your. . . uh, situation with biology?”

“It’s not what you think. It’s involuntary. Biological. A man’s body doesn’t always obey his mind. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He sounds so awkward, so flustered and you don’t know what to think. He’s not usually like this. . . well, not around you. Around you, he’s always so collected, always the smart, serious, intellectual Stanford Pines who wouldn’t bat an eye at anything that didn’t involve research.

You try to click pieces together, processing. He feels something for you. That’s the only explanation. He wouldn’t be this flustered, this desperate to excuse himself, if he didn’t.

And now you know. Ford’s just as human as the rest of us. And he wants you, too.

You move again, brushing your leg against him again and Ford wants to die because he makes the loudest surprised gasp in the room. “Doesn’t mean anything, huh?” you ask innocently. “so if I just move like this—” you press just a little firmer, feeling him growing harder. “it’s still just biology. Nothing to do with me at all?”

He’s silent.

“Ford, Is that. . . is that really how you feel?”

He sighs and darts his hand out to grip your leg to stop your teasing. “Don’t,” he warns, saying your name. His eyes meet yours for the first time all evening. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

His eyes stay locked on yours. You’re silent now too.

“Don’t— don’t look at me like that. You don’t understand. I. . . shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

But you do understand, more than he could ever realise.

“But why?” your foot slides all over his hard clothed length and Ford’s body responds with his needy cock twitching at your touch.

“This isn’t funny,” he bites out. “this isn’t a game. I’m not a young man, im not— I’m not what you need.”

“You don’t get to decide what I need, Ford.”

“But you’re too young—”

“Stop treating me like I’m some kid who doesn’t know what she wants. I’m an adult, Ford, an adult!”

“An adult?” he repeats, while your foot is still rubbing over his very obvious bulge. “an adult who can't even get dressed normally for the weather?”

You grin, leaning closer to his face. “uh-huh. And here you are, all worked up over me, right?” you press on his cock harder and Ford nearly finishes in his pants.

He grabs your ankle, even though he doesn’t push you away.

“This. . . now this is inappropriate.”

You rolls your foot over his bulge what makes hips buck just slightly. You bite your lip, grinning at how badly he’s losing control.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that?” you lean closer and murmur into his mouth. “you’re so worried about what I can handle, but look at you. You’re the one who’s hard as rock right now, who can’t control himself.”

“Enough, I’m serious, stop.”

“Make me.”

That’s all it takes. It’s your smirk that gets him, your teasing voice, your dirty remarks, even as you’re sprawled out on the bed with that horrible wound on your thigh.

Ford is on you in a second. His mouth crashes against yours and you don’t even realise what’s happening yet. His kiss is messy and needy, like he’s trying to consume you whole. And you give yourself to him completely, your body melting into his. Every surprised gasp of yours is swallowed by him, his big hands gripping your face as he deepens the kiss. It’s so messy, the way Ford literally fucks your mouth with his tongue.

And you can’t help but tug at his clothes, dragging him closer until he’s on top of you. Ford’s weight presses into you and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at it as your body presses against his, your heart pounding so hard you swear he can hear it too. Ford is barely restraining himself from ripping off the rest of your clothes, that oversized T-shirt and panties, and fucking you right here, making all his fantasies come true, which he wrote down in his journal.

His mouth devours yours like he’s starved for you, his hands yanking you closer like he’s holding on for dear life. You let him claim you, let his kiss swallow every thought in your head until there’s nothing left but him, just him, him, him, him. You’re drunk on the way he feels. His hands are everywhere, pulling and tugging at you like he’s losing control. And oh god, you feel it.

You can’t get enough of it. You want more.

Ford is too lost so he lets six-fingered hand slip lower, brushing the side of your thigh and then it lands right where it shouldn’t.

Your fresh wound.

You gasp in pain, breaking the kiss.

“Damn,” Ford instantly pulls away, and his hand is next to your wound, concern and fear are visible on his face. “i’m sorry, i didn’t—”

“Fuck it,” you interrupt, pulling him closer. “worry about that later. I need you now. Please, Ford, just kiss me again.”

But looks like Ford is interested in your wound more than in kiss now.

He’s already inspecting the bandage, ignoring your begging, his brows furrowed with guilt. “i wasn’t thinking, im sorry, does it hurt? did i—”

Why men are so stupid, you think and grab his chin, forcing him to look at you, but he talks first.

“Let me—” he clears his throat, blinking before continuing. “no, let me bandage your leg. We need to, uh, stop the bleeding.”

“Ford,” you groan. “It’s fine. It’s not even that bad now.”

“Not that bad?” he looks you with a glare that’s somehow equal parts concern and anger. “that’s not how infections work, young lady. You could lose a limb if this festers.”

You groan in frustration, rolling your eyes, but he’s already kneeling in front of you. “This is really what you’re worried about right now?” you drawl, raising your brow.

“Yes, this is what I’m worried about.”

And here he is again, between your legs, his hands are still careful as they work, bandaging your inner thigh. Ford is trying so hard not to look at the very place he’s so devastatingly close to. He pulls the knot of the bandage just too tight what makes you let out the softest, unintentional moan.

“You— you cannot make noises like that right now. Stop making this harder than it already is.”

The corners of your lips curl and you lean back on your palms, unbothered. “Says the man who’s between my legs right now.”

“You got a point,” Ford lifts his brows as he clicks his tongue, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “clever girl.”

When he finally finishes tying off the bandage, he proudly looks at the work he done and pulls away, wait, pulls away? However, you don’t let him get far. Your hands drag him back down with a force that surprises him and maybe yourself.

The kiss you pull him into is anything but delicate. It’s urgent and hungry. Ford groans against you as if you’ve stolen the last bit of air he had left. Your fingers fist the fabric at his shoulders and when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeps over your bottom lip.

“Been waiting for this,” you confess between gasps. “Ford, I need you.”

His forehead presses against yours. “You think I don’t? I’ve needed you. God, you have no idea. You drive me insane.”

“Need you,” you breathe, arching up into him. “Ford, please. . . need you so bad.” he swallows your words with another passionate kiss, this one deeper, slower. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling a whimper from you that goes straight to his cock.

His lips trail lower, pressing kisses along the curve of your jaw, the slope of your neck. His teeth graze against your skin making you shiver because you feel like on damn fire, so sensitive for him.

“Ford, ah,” you breathe, tilting your head to give him more room as his kisses grow bolder, hungrier. He’s so desperate he can’t seem to stop himself, mouthing at your collarbone, your throat, anywhere he can reach while he mutters how beautiful you are.

Your hand trembles as it finds his, wrapping around his wrist and guiding him down. “Ford, please, touch me there,” you whimper against his lips now, spreading your thighs apart to make space. “need you. . . need your fingers, your hand, please.”

Ford hesitates at first, as if he doesn't fully believe what he sees in front of him, the object of his fantasies, his clever girl, which he wrote about in his journal, right beneath him, begging for his touch, for his love. It seems like his genius brain cannot comprehend what is happening yet.

Finally his hand moves, two fingers, one extra, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties and the sound that leaves your mouth sounds like a desperate needy sob. His forehead drops against yours as his fingers press against the dampness pooling there.

“You’re so wet,” Ford drags his thumb slowly over your clit. “is this all for me?”

“Yes, yes, all for you,” you gasp, writhing under his touch, bucking your hips up into his hand. “only you, Ford— fuck, just keep touching me, please, need more— need you. . .”

“I know,” he mutters, kissing you hard enough to steal the words from your tongue. “i know, sweetheart, i know.”

Ford’s fingers tugs your panties to the side and you both groan when he finally touches you bare. You squirm, swaying your hips to grind against his hand and he curses again, moving his lips to your neck, kissing and nipping as if he can’t stand being apart from you for even a second.

“Y-you’re driving me insane,” he breathes. “been dreaming about this, you have no idea, been wanting you for so long.”

“Good,” you manage a weak smile, whimpering when he circles your clit with his thumb. You curl your nails into his shoulders. “then fucking do something about it.”

Stanford groans at your words, his cock twitches, begging to be taken care of, but his pleasure doesn’t matter now. You’re so hungry for his touch and Ford needs to touch you badly, so he slips his fingers through your folds, caressing you while still rubbing your clit in torturous circles. “like this? does this, does this feel good?”

“Yes, yes, oh my god! more, more, give me more,” you cry when he sinks one finger into you, curling it just right.

“God, I wanna—” but he cuts himself off when his eyes notices that damn bandage on your leg.

“What?” you question and press a light kiss to his cheek, your eyes searching his face. “what do you want?”

“You,” he admits. “I want to be inside you, want to feel you around me, want to, b-but you’re hurt, and I— fuck, I can’t, I can’t risk it.”

You whine, your head falling back as his fingers keep moving, sliding in and out of your pussy, brushing against that spot that makes you see stars. “don’t care,” your thighs clenching around his hand. “i don’t care, just need you, need your cock— fuck, please!”

“Please, don’t say that, don’t say that when I can’t give it to you.”

“Ford, please, I need it! I’ll be fine, I swear—”

“No, you’re hurt, this is all i can give you right now. . . but i swear, I swear i’ll make it up to you, honey, when you’re better, when you’re not hurt, i’ll—” his fingers thrust deeper into your wetness with his thumb circling your clit in time and you interrupt him with loud cry.

“Ford! please, just don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

Ford nods and watches you. Letting his fingers curl inside you, penetrating deeper into your pussy. His movements growing more confident as your body reacts to him, your beautiful moans spurring him on. His lips find yours again and you both get lost in the kiss, in the way your breaths mix, in the way your bodies press together like you’re trying to fuse into one.

Your moan breaks into a cry as you arch your back, eyes closed tight when Ford’s fingers pumping into you faster, your spongy walls tightening around his digits. Oh fucking heaven, that extra finger feels too good. “Ford, please! oh, god— fuck, you’re gonna make me—”

“That’s it,” Ford’s lips trail up to your ear, kissing and biting it as he presses his thumb on your sensitive bundle. “let me take care of you, sweetheart, cum for me.”

His tone and praise is what sends you on edge as you clench around his fingers, moaning his name and cumming while his fingers, slower, but still thrusting into you. You feel so weak and tired, but your Ford is right there to catch you, whispering soft praises into your hair as you shake in his arms.

Ford’s fingers still buried deep inside you as he watches you come down from your high. And it’s so obvious that he putted your needs before his own because his cock, hard as a rock now, strains against the fabric of his pants, creating the most painful bulge you ever seen. He shifts awkwardly, hoping maybe you won’t notice but you do. Oh, you do.

“Ford,” your voice sounds honeyed as you regain your strength. Your gaze drops pointedly to the tent in his pants. “you’re. . . so hard.”

His face flushes and he tries to pull away, to create some distance between you, but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t,” you whisper softly. “don’t hide from me. you’ve been so good to me, let me. . . let me do something for you.”

“No,” he says quickly. “you’re hurt. I can’t, you need to rest.”

“Just look at you, you’re aching. You don’t have to do anything to me, just let me help.”

“Oh my god,” he says your name as if ready to scold you. “you’re impossible, you know,” but his shaky hands move to his belt anyway, unsure, like he’s warring with himself even as he undoes it.

“Yeah?” you lean back. “you’re about to jerk off in front of me, Ford, what does that make you?”

Ford cant find any smart or logical response to that because you’re absolutely right, he’s the mess here, the impossible one, the desperate old man. He takes a breath, finally pulling his cock free and fuck, he’s so hard as if he’s going to explode, the head flushed and leaking.

Ford’s cock is already in his hand, the first strokes making him whimper under his breath. His other hand rests on your thigh, fingers nervously flex like he’s desperate to touch more of you, to hold you, to worship you properly like his clever girl deserves, but he’s so lost in this intimate moment, in you, that he can barely think straight.

You’re watching him, trying to control yourself because if you won’t, you might just jump on him and you can't vouch for yourself.

You’re sprawled out in front of him like a dream come to life: t-shirt rucked up, legs spread, panties pushed to the side, leaving your pretty glistening pussy on full display for his starved gaze. Fuck, you look so hot like that, from everything he’s already done to you. He’s trying not to stare and you think he’s so silly when it’s specially show made only for him, so you shift your hips just enough to catch his attention, drawing his eyes like a magnet.

“Touch yourself for me. Show me how much you want me.” your eyes locked on him, drinking in the sight of his hand moving over his length.

Ford’s chest heaves, his hand grips his cock, which is twitching and flushed an angry red at the tip. But looks like poor old man can’t even jerk himself off properly, so you reach your hand out to brush against his wrist.

“Here,” you purr, guiding his hand with your smaller one, wrapping your fingers around his, forcing him to stroke himself teasingly. At that, Ford’s hips jerk up into your shared grip, and you hum approvingly, watching as his lips part in a groan. “yes, like this, honey. Let me help you.”

“S-sweetheart. . . you don’t— ah— you don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” you lean back against the bed, shifting your hips, making sure he has the perfect view of your soaked, glistening slit. “Don’t hold back, i want you to feel good.”

Ford lets himself get a bit more vocal as he groans, his hips buck into your joined hands and his cock twitches against your palm. He’s so fucking hard, leaking against your skin, and the sounds he makes as he strokes himself are too good to be true, yet here he is, in front of you, jerking himself off, moaning your name.

“You. . . o-oh god, sweetheart, you’re incredible,” he whines as you guide his hand again, showing him exactly how to squeeze, how to work himself the way you know he needs it. Meanwhile his other hand braces against the mattress near your head, his knuckles white as he struggles to keep himself together.

“You’re so big, Ford,” your eyes glued to his dick, watching every move with hungry fascination. “you’re so handsome, so beautiful. I could look at you all night.”

He groans at your praise, more pathetic this time, his forehead dropping forward as he stares at where your bodies almost meet. “Christ, you’re gonna ruin me, love.” that’s when his strokes falter for and you take over completely, your warm hand wrapping around his length and pumping him up and down.

“Keep going,” you urge, feeling yourself getting wetter too. “i can’t stop thinking about how good you’d feel inside me. id take all of you, id make you feel so good, Ford. I need you, all of you.” soft whisper into his lips while all Ford can do is fuck your hand pathetically, your thumb sweeping over his tip, smearing the slick there.

Ford digs his fingers into your thigh, trembling. “Don’t— oh god, don’t say that,” he gasps. His eyes are locked on your opening, on the way your arousal glistens, your folds so wet and swollen and inviting.

“Don’t you want to touch me? Don’t you want to feel how wet i am for you?”

“God, I do,” he breathes as his hand joins again, moving together with yours, faster, jerking himself off faster. “I want you so much it hurts. I’d do anything. . . anything for you.”

“Then come for me,” you whisper, reaching out to thread your fingers into his hair when you kiss the corners of his parted trembling lips.

“I can’t— oh god, sweetheart, I can’t hold on much longer.” thick ropes of his cum spills across your thighs and even stomach, marking your skin as he makes a mess of himself. His hot seed drips down over your hand where you keep stroking and caressing him, milking every last drop forcing whines and mewls from him.

He collapses forward after and buries his face against your shoulder.

“I need you so badly,” he murmurs into your skin. “you don’t know how much I want you. You don’t know what you do to me.”

You hum softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair as you press a tender kiss on his forehead.

***

It’s morning and sweet scent of batter and syrup fills the air. The noise and conversations are coming from the kitchen and there’s only one explanation for the chaos: Stanley is cooking “stancakes.”

You’re by his side, propped against the counter, balancing on your good leg, watching Stan cook. Spatula in one hand, the other parked on his hip and he radiates confidence, as if he is ready to host his own cooking show.

“Now listen up, kid,” he says in a voice full of pride. “these are world-famous stancakes. they’ve been called ‘edible’ by at least two people, well, three, if you don’t count the pig.”

“Oh.”

“Oh” he repeats, incredulous, spinning to face you with mock offense. “don’t tell me you’ve never had stancakes before?!”

You grin, shaking your head. “not once. I think Ford’s been keeping them all to himself.”

Stan looks like you’ve just offended him.

“That’s practically a felony in this house! what, Ford never mentioned ‘em? selfish bastard.”

You laugh softly.

“but i gotta ask,” Stan continues. “any allergies to elbow grease? or, uh, whatever was at the bottom of the flour jar. pretty sure it was flour. maybe. . .” he winks and you roll your eyes, however the conversation continues good and friendly between you.

Your hand rests on the counter for balance and you look down, at the faint tug of the bandage around your leg, which works as reminder of the night before. Memories of Ford’s hands, his mouth, the way he moaned your name, how he touched you, heat your cheeks until you force yourself to focus on Stan.

His spatula waves in your direction again. “so, what’s the story with yer leg? take a tumble down the stairs, or was it somethin’ spooky out there in the woods?”

You give him a wide smile. “let’s just say it’s a story. remind me to tell you later.”

Stan raises a brow curiously, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he turns back to his stancakes with a grunt. “hmph, fair enough. just glad you didn’t end up worse. Y’know, if ya ever need lessons on landing on yer feet—”

Before he can finish, his brother steps into the room and you immediately turn your gaze to him. Honestly, he looks like he’s spent the entire night replaying everything.

“Ah, there you are,” Ford murmurs when his gaze finds you, then he clears his throat and nods to his twin. “good morning, Stanley.”

Stan doesn’t miss a beat, gesturing with his spatula. “yeah, mornin’, sixer. Yer just in time for the best damn pancakes this side of the multiverse.”

At that, Ford’s lips curve into a polite smile as he glances at his brother. “that’s good to hear.” then his focus changes, locking entirely on you. His intonation changes into something warmer as he speaks your name. “would you mind if i borrowed you for a moment? just for a quick talk.”

You nod a little too eagerly. “sure, of course.”

Stanley lets out a dramatic sigh, waving his spatula at Ford. “don’t keep her too long, poindexter. She’s gotta try these pancakes before they go cold!”

Ford leads you to his study and you follow, heart thundering in your chest. You’re grinning like an idiot, barely containing your excitement. He’s finally going to say something, but you’re so fucking ready to hear, to discuss, to scream the loudest “YES” when he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend.

When the door clicks shut behind you, he turns and you finally see his face. He’s always so serious, just like right now. But what did you wait? It’s Ford Pines, it’s his normal state. However, you’re so excited you sure he can see the way you’re literally glowing.

You really try to act casual, but inside, you’re absolutely going insane, nervous, happy, excited at the same time. Last night still feels like a fever dream, you can feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the heat of his body against yours, the way his fingers slid so perfectly into you. . .

And now he’s here, just the two of you, and you’re hoping he’ll finally acknowledge the thing that happened between you.

But then he opens his mouth.

“So, about the anomaly. . .” he begins and the words hit you like a slap.

No, no. No no no. Are you hearing this right?That’s what he’s leading with?! After everything that happened last night, he’s just. . . no, he’s talking about the damn anomaly like he didn’t just leave you trembling with the memory of his fingers inside you.

Your smile falters fucking immediately, your shoulders stiffening as he goes on, completely oblivious to the storm of disappointment brewing inside you.

“I’ve been reviewing the notes I took last week. If my calculations are correct, the creature’s molecular structure—”

What the actual fuck.

Your jaw clenches. You stare at him, thinking it’s some kind of joke. He’s talking about science. Fucking science. After everything that happened, this is what he wants to talk about? He’s here, rambling about molecules and rain like none of it ever happened.

You can’t stand it. The frustration takes over you.

“Ford,” you hiss as you shove him back against the wall.

His eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t let him speak. You press your palms flat against his chest, pinning him there, your voice shaking with anger. All you can think about is how he’s standing there like some fucking genius, talking about molecules and data when last night, you’d literally devoured each other.

“Are you kidding me? This is what you wanted to talk about? You’re seriously standing here, talking about anomalies and notes like last night didn’t fucking happen?”

For a second, he just looks at you, his face calm and that makes you practically vibrate with rage, the intensity of your emotions making your head spin.

And then. . . he smirks.

The bastard smirks.

“I wasn’t aware we had plans to debrief, sweetheart,” your fingers tighten against his chest and he raises a brow, clearly amused by your reaction. “Though I must admit, you’re surprisingly strong for someone with an injured leg. Should I be worried?”

Your face burns as you glare up at him. “Ford, don’t you dare—”

“Well?” his gaze piercing through you. “What is it you want me to say, sweetheart?”

His fucking teasing is driving you crazy.

“Are you seriously just gonna pretend like it didn’t happen? That you didn’t— god, Ford—"

“Pretend? Oh, but don’t get ahead of yourself.

I think you’ve got a lot more to say about what happened than you’re letting on, huh?”

Your cheeks burn hotter than they ever have before. You didn’t expect that. You really didn’t.

“Are you seriously gonna tease me about last night? You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, but you’re so worked up now that you don’t even care. You push yourself closer, getting right up in his space, your chest touching his, and now you’re just fuming.

“I’m the one who teases you? Interesting. . .” he leans to your face, brushing his lips against your ear. “What else did I do to you that made you so worked up last night? I didn’t think I was that good with my hands.”

“You bastard.” you hiss as you pin him against the wall harder.

He tilts his head at your words. “Careful, love, I wouldn’t want you to strain that leg of yours again. Especially not after I spent so much time taking care of you last night.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The nerve of this man! You want to slap him, to push him away, but instead, you pull him closer

“You better watch yourself, Ford.” You give him a dangerous smile. “You think you can just pay with me like this? You’re not as clever as you think.”

Ford’s smirk widens. “Oh? You think you’ve got the upper hand? I’ve got you pinned right where I want you, sweetheart.”

And then his hand trails down your arm to your waist.

“And if you’re still mad, I can think of a few ways to work out that frustration.”

Your body goes cold and hot all at once, and it takes everything in you not to melt into him.

Ford is still against the wall where you pushed him, calm as ever, obviously enjoying every second of this, he thinks he’s the one in control.

Your pulse hammers in your ears, your hands trembling against the chest of his sweater. He’s so warm, and god, you hate that even now, even while you’re mad at him, you can’t stop remembering the way he looked last night. The way he sounded when he let himself fall apart under your touch.

“You’re insufferable. Worse than Stan.”

“Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one pinning me to a wall. Quite forcefully, might I add. It’s a little ironic, don’t you think? Considering how you were. . . what’s the term? Begging for me last night?”

Your jaw drops.

“Begging? You think I was begging for you?”

Ford looks entirely too pleased with himself. “Well, I seem to recall a certain. . . eagerness on your part. Particularly when—”

“You don’t get to talk about my eagerness.” you cut him off, your cheeks flaming. “Not when you were the one moaning my name like your life depended on it.”

That shuts him up.

His smirk falters slightly, and you see the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck. Oh. Oh. Fucking finally. You’ve got him now.

“That’s right. Stanford Pines, world-renowned genius, reduced to a trembling mess because I—” and to kill him for sure, you lean in to whisper into his lips. “jerked you off.”

Ford goes completely still.

There’s nothing but silence. His genius mind working, his lips parting slightly like he wants to say something, but no words come out. His face is a mess of conflicting emotions, embarrassment, frustration and something you can’t quite place but looks suspiciously like agreement.

“Got nothing to say now, huh?” you tease, grinning like an absolute maniac. “What happened to all that confidence, Professor?”

“Well played.”

***

Life at the mystery shack doesn’t feel much different, not outwardly. Stan still grumbles about the bills, the tourists still gawk at the exhibits, and Ford. . . Ford is still Ford, except now he’s yours.

Yours.

The nights are quieter between you both, more intimate, full of moans and groans, petting and foreplay. Like last night, when his clever hands had slipped beneath the waistband of your pajama pants, his soft and needy voice told you he wanted to make you feel good.

God, he did. You’d come on his fingers so good, trembling as he whispered your name and called you his good girl, while kissing your cheeks, wiping your tears of pleasure away. And he’d let you touch him too while your hand worked up and down on his pulsing cock and then he spilled against your skin, while you silenced him with a kiss.

No, it actually feels good, really. It’s better than nothing, than not touching him at all, but. . . you crave, you need something else. Something that is not just his fingers, mouth, or hands.

Ford is so careful, so cautious about your stupid leg, his gentle excuses about your injury making you want to scream into a pillow. Like, yeah, it still hurts sometimes, but you can walk, run, pin him against a wall, fuck him six ways to sunday if he’d just let you.

Ford has his own fears, even if he won’t admit them outright.

But you’re not afraid.

The woods, your anomaly huntings, are different now too. More dangerous, you’d say.

You’re pressed against a tree as Ford’s mouth claims yours. His hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, sliding up under your clothes, pulling you closer, closer, like he can’t get enough.

“Ford, aah, please,” you whimper, pulling him down to kiss you deeper. His knee nudges between your thighs, pressing against you and you swear you’re about to melt into a puddle right there in the dirt.

“Quiet, sweetheart, don’t want the whole forest knowing how desperate you are for me.”

But it’s him. . . it’s fucking him who’s desperate, dropping to his knees to pull your pants down just enough, fingers slipping into your panties to find you already soaking.

“So wet already, holy multiverse,” and then his fingers are inside your pussy as he presses kisses to your thighs and stomach.

But you need to touch him too. Your hands are on him again, tugging at his belt, fumbling with the button of his pants. His cock is hard when you pull him free and you stroke him until he’s shaking, gasping against your neck.

“My love, i’m gonna—” his hips jerks into your hand as he cums, splashing his hot and thick seed all over your fingers. But he doesn’t stop, his own six fingered hand working you until you finish with a strangled cry, pussy clenching around him as you nearly fall, when he catches you, whispering how beautiful you are.

You both collapse against each other, sticky and hot, despite coldness of autumn, grinning like idiots. And then Ford leans in to kiss you again, like he’s already planning the next round.

At dinner, it’s you who starts it.

Your leg brushes his teasingly under the table that has him choking on his water. Stanley doesn’t notice, too busy ranting about some tourist who tried to haggle over a snow globe, but Ford shoots you a warning look.

You just smile sweetly while also agreeing with Stan about his tourist speech as you press your foot higher until you’re brushing against the hard line of his length beneath the table.

The lab is worse.

He’s sitting at his desk, scribbling in his journal with you perched on his lap, your arms around his shoulders, your hips rocking against his as you kiss the side of his neck.

“You’re distracting me,” says fucking Ford with his hands on your hips, guiding your movements as his already hard cock strains against his pants.

“Good,” you kiss his cheek, grinding down harder, feeling him twitching beneath you.

But every time you try to push it further, every time you reach for him, ask for more, he stops you.

“Your leg,” but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

“But i’m fine—”

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “i’m not risking it, not yet.”

***

The November crisp air bites at your skin. The faint smoky warmth of the fire crackling in the yard. Well. . . It was Stanley's idea to do this, he said something about rekindling childhood memories, family bonding and roasting marshmallows like it was summer camp, but he's not here. Something about a "quick run to the diner for pie" turned into him being away for whole evening, leaving you and Ford alone under a shining starry sky.

“You know, for a guy with six fingers, you’re surprisingly bad at this,” you tease, leaning back on your hands as you watch Stanford squint at the marshmallow impaled on his skewer. It's already starting to charred, the edges curling into blackened flakes as the fire devours it. “do they not teach you how to roast marshmallows in the multiverse, professor?”

Ford chuckles softly at your words. “Oh, excuse me, but i’ll have you know i’ve mastered much more complex techniques than this primitive. . .” the marshmallow slides clean off the stick and lands with a soft plop into the embers. Ford stares at it, annoyed. “cooking method.”

You can’t help how cute he looks so you laugh. “You’re hopeless,” you brush your shoulder against his, smiling. “here, let me show you.” Ford nods, handing you the stick. “first rule,” you skewer a new marshmallow. “don’t hold it so close to the flame. you want it golden, not a cremation. You’ve gotta keep it turning. Patiently, like this.” you rotate the stick slowly and Ford actually watches, his gaze is not on the fire, but on you.

“i see,” he says thoughtfully. “golden, not charred.”

“Exactly,” you let marshmallow toast evenly. “you just have to—” you glance up to check on him and Ford’s still watching you. It steals the breath from your lungs and you gulp awkwardly. “. . . focus,” you finish a little quieter. “why you’re looking at me like that?” you smile.

Ford laughs. “maybe in some universe, you do dress appropriately for the weather?”

You blink at him, thrown off for a second, before realising. Oh. . . oh, right. Your teeth chatter slightly, fingers cold and you’re shaking slightly, it’s so obvious. “i guess no?”

Ford doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, he’s already shrugging out of his coat and draping it over your shoulders before you can protest, but it’s not like you wanted to anyways. His trench coat is heavy and smells just like him and your smile couldn't get any wider.

“Thanks, again. . . heh,” you try to sound nonchalant, but the coat is still warm from him and you clutch it around you tighter.

“So, you were saying?” Stanford prompts, tilting his head toward the marshmallow in your hand.

You clear your throat. “Right, uh, where was i? oh, yeah. so, you’ll know it’s ready when it’s this perfect golden brown all over, not a single—”

“Give me a kiss,” Ford says suddenly, interrupting you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You’re not sure who leans in first. You, probably, but he meets you halfway. Ford’s lips are warm, so soft against yours. Your heart stutters in your chest as blood rushes in your ears, one of his hands comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing feather-light against your cheek. Your hands find his chest, fingertips pressing into his sweater as you you sigh into him.

The kiss deepens, not hurried, but like you’ve both waited far too long for this moment. Ford leans into your touch like he’s been craving it just as much as you.

When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours and none of you speak, both quiet and only fire is crackling softly beside you.

“I think i might be terrible at marshmallows.” Ford smiles shyly.

You blink at him, you lips still tingling from the kiss, your head feeling too light to even process his words at first. Oh god the whole moment so tender, so beautiful, so intimate it almost makes you want to cry.

“Ford,” and he hums softly in response.

“Hmm?”

“Give me another.”

Ford doesn’t need to be told twice.

This time, it’s you who closes the distance, but his lips crash into yours like he’s been waiting, holding himself back and now he simply can’t. His hand slides to the back of your neck as the kiss deepens, hotter, hungrier. You sigh into his mouth, your knees going weak beneath you, but Ford steadies you, holds you.

His coat slips off one of your shoulders as your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer until there’s no space left, and even then, it doesn’t feel close enough.

“Ford—” you manage to groan against his lips and he pulls back just slightly.

“What is it?” the way he’s looking at you, fuck, like he’s already undressing you in his mind, makes you feel dizzy.

You pause, staring at him, at the mess of his hair, the faint flush dusting his cheeks, the way his lips are already red from kissing you. This man. This ridiculous, brilliant, beautiful man.

“My leg,” you feel nervous out of sudden, afraid he might reject you again. “it’s— it’s healed now, you know. . . i can— i can handle more.”

Ford freezes, thinking. And then. . . Oh.

He kisses you again, but this time it’s different, this time, there’s no holding back, no careful hesitation.

"Inside," your voice is trembling with anticipation. "please, Ford, let’s go inside."

And god help you both, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to say no.

***

Ford’s whole body is pressing you into the mattress as though he’s trying to meld you both into one. His hands grip the sheets beside your head and he’s so warm against you. He kisses you messily and desperately, too eager.

“Ford, please,” you whimper, lifting your hips and grinding up against his hard, pulsing length.

“Yes, Ive got you, I’ve got you,” his own voice trembling as one hand dives down, gripping your hip, trying to keep you still but failing miserably because he can’t stop himself from rutting into you. “im right here, my love, i’m gonna take care of you.” the bed creaks beneath the weight of both of you, but neither of you can hear it over the needy moans you two share.

You can’t stop the high pitched whine that escapes you as his knee slots between your thighs, pressing against you just right and you swear you’re losing your fucking mind. “Nngh, Ford, Ford, please,” your voice so fucking needy it feels embarrassing.

Ford stops, just for a second, pulling back to take a good look at you. His eyes are blown wide, pupils black as they devour every little expression you make. “tell me, tell me what you need.”

You nearly cry. “touch me,” you plead.

“Oh sweetheart, my good girl,” his trembling fingers brush the hem of your clothes, slipping underneath to glide against your skin, being so careful like you’re too delicate, too fragile for him, he’s afraid you’ll shatter if he’s not gentle. “i’m not going anywhere,” he promises, dragging his lips down your jaw, going lower to the sensitive skin of your neck. “i love you so much.” and before you can even think to respond, his mouth is on yours again, swallowing your moans because he’s desperate to consume every single piece of you.

Oh, sweet fucking hell, you think when Ford lowers himself between your thighs looking like a man on his knees at an altar and you’re the goddess he’s about to worship. He spreads your legs wide, his six-fingered hands curling into the plush of your thighs and he just stares for a moment like he’s seeing heaven itself. His lips part, and his tongue darts out to wet them, the hunger in his gaze as if he can’t believe this is real.

"My love," he groans. "so pretty, you’re so pretty. . . this is all mine, isn’t it? tell me, sweetheart, say it, say it’s all for me."

“It’s yours, Ford,” you melt under his gaze, feeling so exposed and he hums in approval.

“Good girl,” and then he dips his head down, brushing his lips against your inner thigh, kissing your healed wound.

You grow impatient with every second, and fucking finally, he’s right here, his face hovering over your throbbing pussy which needs his attention so bad, and he takes a deep breath.

Ford presses a kiss just above where you’re all wet and your hips jolt, seeking more.

“F-Ford! fuuck. . . fuck fuck fuck!”

“Shh, just like that, i’ll take care of you,” he presses one hand firmly on your pelvis to keep you still. “just relax, darling, let me have you.”

You’re too far gone to even respond coherently, only letting out pathetic whimper as he drags his lips lower and lower until his warm mouth hovers right over your soaked folds.

His tongue presses flat against your pussy, slowly and oh fuck, you taste so damn sweet, Ford growls and that vibrates straight through you. “oh, god," he pants, pulling back before diving in again, "you taste. . . you taste so good, so sweet, like you were made for me." Ford’s voice muffled against you as his tongue flattens, dragging through your slick, tasting you.

His hands grip your thighs tighter to hold your squirming body in place as he tilts his head to get a better angle. His lips seal around your puffy clit, sucking gently at first, then harder when your hips jerk up into his face. He holds you open because he’s not letting you go anywhere, his tongue flicks over that sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re sobbing his name.

“Ford. . . oh god! Ford, too much—!”

You’re trembling and panting as his tongue circles your little clit in soft lazy strokes that have your back arching off the mattress. You fist your fingers into the sheets as his lips seal around your sensitive clit, sucking gently before releasing you with a soft, wet pop.

“Taste so good,” Ford says more than all to himself. He licks into you now, dragging his wet tongue through your soft folds, lapping up everything you’re giving him like a man possessed. “g-give me more, darling, please. . . i need more of you.”

“Ford, Ford! Ford, i—” you buck your hips against his face as the wet sounds of his mouth on you fill the room.

“Mmhm, that’s it, sweetheart,” his voice muffled against your cunt as his lips brushes your clit, letting his fingers slide lower to tease your dripping entrance. “just let me make you feel good.”

Ford pulls back just enough to gasp for air, his lips and chin shiny with your slick and you swear he looks drunk, eyes glassy and pupils blown wide. “you taste so good,” he groans, diving back in immediately, never having enough, moving his mouth against you like he’s kissing you there, sloppily, noisily and so damn messy.

You’re not damn ready for what comes next. When his fingers finally slip inside, you nearly scream, two of them, then three with his extra middle one sliding into your soaked pussy, while another circles your clit, working in perfect tandem with his tongue. "so tight, so wet for me," his voice muffled as he sucks your clit into his mouth again. "give it to me, sweetheart. . . let me have it, be a good girl for me, yeah?"

His pace quickens as your walls flutter around his fingers. But he doesn’t stop, not even when you’re writhing and tears streaming down your cheeks from the pleasure. He licks, sucks and slurps at you, addicted to the way you taste, the way you feel. “Ford, I’m gonna cum—”

You cry out and jerk your hips against his face as you do. He growls, gripping you tighter, holding you still as his mouth moves faster, hungrier. Your walls spasming around his long fingers, your clit pulsing between his lips.

But Ford’s mouth doesn’t lift and doesn’t slow, even when your thighs tremble and your fingers push weakly at his hair to tug him away.

“No, Ford, please,” you gasp as he sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue against it in slow circles. “i-i can’t— too much. . . im sensitive, Ford—”

But he doesn’t give a fuck, his grip tightens on your thighs to keep them spread wide. “Just one more, sweetheart,” his words slurred, drunk off the taste of you. “please-please, i need. . . one more, just one more for me.”

You can’t hold back the loud cry that escapes you as his tongue dives back in, licking and lapping. Your legs jerk, trying to close, but his strong hands keep them locked open. “don’t fight me, let me, let me have you.”

“Ford, oh god—” your voice is broken as his tongue works all over your pussy, it’s overwhelming and unbearable, your entire body feels like a live wire as he devours you, never giving you a moment to recover.

“that’s it, love, cum for me, please. . . be a good girl and cum on my face.”

And you do again, god, you do, because there’s no stopping it. Your orgasm crashes over you again, ripping a scream from your throat as your back arches off the bed. Your vision whites out, your mind blank as your release floods through you.

Ford moans into you as you come, his mouth latched onto your clit, his tongue lapping up every drop. When you start caressing his hair as if thanking him, he presses wet sloppy kisses to your trembling thighs.

You’re still shaking and gasping for air, when he finally lifts his head, his chin glistening as he stares down at you and smiles. But you still can’t have enough, not satisfied, not when he haven’t been inside you and fucked you properly, you’ve been craving this for months and you totally go for it now. “Please, need you, Ford, please, i need you inside me.”

He doesn’t even make any excuses this time when he kneels between your legs, his cock flushed and throbbing, the head slick with pearls of precum. “you sure?” is all he asks as his hands come up to cradle your hips.

“Yes, god, yes,” you plead, spreading your legs wider, your eyes glazed with need. “please, i can’t wait anymore! i need you.”

He knows you do because he’s in absolutely same state as you, needy and desperate to fuck you, that’s why he’s pressing into you, the thick head of his cock stretching you open and you both moan loudly when he slides deeper, his girth filling you.

Ford is trembling above you, sweat slicking his brow as he inches himself inside carefully, terrified he might hurt you or worse, lose control. But you’re ready, so ready, your nails digging into his shoulders, “more, please, i can take it.”

Ford’s hips stutter as he bottoms out, his cock buried to the hilt. “Y-you’re so tight, sweetheart, so damn tight. i don’t— don’t know if i can move. . . feels too good. . . god, you’re perfect.”

You’re no better because your walls clench around him and your voice so high and breathless as you cry, “so full, Ford— oh my god, you’re so big.”

“I know, love, i know,” he soothes, finding your parted lips with his as he starts to move slowly, making shallow thrusts that have you both gasping. “you’re doing so good, taking me so well, feels like heaven, baby.”

You feel every inch of him, every twitching vein as he sinks deeper, the stretch delicious, making your head spin. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him on. Your wet pussy squeezes his dick so good he nearly loses it right there.

And it’s too much, too good to be true, both of you letting out incoherent sounds and slurred praises as he thrusts into you, moving faster, his thick cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. You try to move together with him, creating a perfect sync.

“You feel so good, sweetheart, too good. i don’t— I don’t think i’m gonna last.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, cupping his cheek when you look right into his dazed eyes. “fuck me harder, Ford, please. . . need you so bad.”

He hears you, snapping his hips against yours, his pace quickening as he loses himself in you. Your moans about how good it feels fill the air while your hands are clawing at his back, nails biting into his skin as you try to pull him closer where it seems impossible. His scars feel rough under your touch as your fingers trace them blindly, making Ford moan at the sensation. His hips jerk forward, driving deeper and you cry out.

“So tight,” he groans into your ear. “you’re squeezing me, love, c-can’t think. . . you feel— oh, sweetheart, pussy so good.”

Your nails dig deeper, leaving crescents in his skin as he fucks into you with deep thrusts that have you gasping. “more, please, more,” you beg and he obeys without question, burying himself deeper, harder into your cunt.

“That’s it, love,” his hand slips between your hot bodies to find your aching clit, circling his fingers over the swollen nub with featherlight touches. “look at you. . . so beautiful, so good for me, you’re perfect, love. . . my perfect girl.”

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you, at the same time his thumb presses down on your clit and a sharp cry spilling from your lips as the pleasure builds.

“Ford!” you whimper while your hands clutch at him. “oh god, i—”

“I know, love, i know, i feel it, let go for me, sweetheart, cum for me.

His beautiful voice and words are enough to pull you through another powerful orgasm, your body tense as you finish, breathless, boneless, drunk on his cock.

Ford’s dick throbs as your release slicks his length, dripping down to pool at the base of him. “you’re so wet, sweetheart, good girl.”

You cant think, not really, too fucked out and tired, your body trembles and you can barely take a breath, but Ford doesn’t stop, determined to fuck your brains out. His thumb circles your clit again and your hips jerk away, the overstimulation making you whimper. “n-no, wait— I’m sensitive—”

“Just one more, love,” he pleads. “please, baby, just one more for me. you can do it, I know you can.”

You try to close your legs and your body twitches with every touch, too much to handle, but Ford holds you open firmly, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, your shoulder, anywhere he can reach. “you’re so good to me, so good, can’t get enough of you.”

He continues thrusting into you, filling your pussy to the brim and pulling out, slamming back again, you feel good, you do, especially with right amount of pressure being applied to your clit, but pleasure borders with sensitivity and little pain from overstimulation as he drags against that tender spot inside you. “Fuck, please! i can’t—”

“You can. You’re my good girl, you can give me one more, please, baby, cum on my cock again.” his words light a fire in your veins because the coil of pleasure tightening and building again despite the ache, despite all these overwhelming sensations. He fucks you so deliciously, grinding his hips into you in deep, slow rolls that make your toes curl and eyes roll, your nails scraping across his shoulders and back, all over his old scars. Ford groans at the sting.

“That’s it, love, just like that, let me have all of you.” he wets his fingers with saliva before bringing them on your sensitive nub again. “you like that? y-you like it when i touch you here, sweetheart? tell me, tell me how good it feels.”

“So gooood. . . feels so good, ford, don’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck me, fuck me!” and then you break again, another orgasm crashing over you, but this time you literally scream from how good it feels, your body convulses, your nails dig into his back with such force that blood comes out. Ford watches you come undone as he fucks you through it, his cock coated in your juices once again.

Ford cant hold himself anymore because you notice how his thrusts grow more deeper, harder, more erratic. His sweaty forehead is pressed against yours, his groans changing into desperate pants and you feel how close he is because his cock twitches inside you, his body trembles as he fights to hold on. “don’t w-worry, don’t worry, I’ll pull out— I’ll—”

“No!” the word bursts out of you in a panic and immediately, you lock your legs around his waist to prevent that. “no, no, Ford, please, don’t, you can’t, don’t leave me, please—” your words tumble out in a frantic, incoherent mess, more sob than speech honestly as you cling to him like your life depends on it. “please,” you babble, your nails scraping against his skin, pulling him impossibly closer. “need it, need you, don’t pull out, please, please, please—”

His surprised eyes fly open as he processes your words. “but—”

All you do is nod frantically in response, hot tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, your legs squeezing around his waist to keep him in place. “yes, inside, cum inside me, I need it, I need you to cum inside me”

Ford groans as he gives in, his hips snapping forward with a force that makes you cry out. He holds your thighs, spreading you wider for himself as he buries himself to the hilt, as deep as he can go. He growls as his head falls back, he squeezes his eyes shut and just loses himself. “gonna— g-gonna cum inside you. . .”

It happens, finally, his hips slam into you one last time and he finishes, his cock pulses as his cum paints your walls white. He hides his face into your neck while loud sound tears from his throat, halfway between a groan and whine. He rolls his hips, continuing to sloppily and lazily thrust into your pussy, grinding against you, unable to stop because he needs to give you every last drop of himself. “you’re— my love, so good, I feel so good. . .”

You lay under him and take it all, milking him for everything he has. Your fingers tracing his beautiful scars, ones you gave him now and his own ones, smearing a little blood over his skin, your legs tightening around him as you whimper, feeling every pulse of him, every twitch of his cock inside as he fills you. Oh god, such intimacy leaves you dizzy, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst.

“Thank you, Ford,” your body arches into him, asking, no, seeking more, always more. “feels so good. . .”

Ford finally comes back to his senses upon hearing your voice, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he shudders through the last waves of his orgasm. He presses kisses to your face, your neck, your shoulders. “I love you, i never want to let you go.”

He pulls out with a shaky groan as he tries to catch his breath, his cock still glistening and twitching. But the loss of him leaves you feeling achingly empty, your walls clenching around nothing as a soft whimper escapes your lips.

Ford is frozen above you, though, his chest heaving, his wide eyes fixed between your legs. The sight of his warm thick seed slowly trickling out of you renders him completely silent.

You let out a deep sigh, dazed, a dumb little smile curling at your lips as you look up at him, completely blissed out and so beautifully ruined. You trail your fingers down slowly, maybe to tease him once more, until finally dipping between your thighs to catch the mess he’s made.

You circle your clit gently, then lowering your fingers to your hole, collecting his cum, covering your fingers with this sticky mess and Ford tracks every movement. And then, oh, you push it back inside, curling your fingers deep, your head falling back with a quiet moan as you savour every drop.

Ford fucking whimpers at the sight as he watches you pump his sperm back into yourself.

“Don’t. . . don’t want to lose it,” you smile, looking at your scientist through half-lidded eyes, gaze unfocused. “don’t want it to go to waste, want to feel you.”

Before you can say another word, he’s on you again. His hands spread your thighs wides when he positions himself at your entrance. Without word, he pushes back in, groaning as he stretches you open again. “you’re beautiful,” he gives you a kiss, while slowly fucking his cum back into you again, making sure to not miss a drop, letting it stay where it belongs.

You hold him close, caressing his face and looking into his beautiful eyes. “I love you so much,” but you get interrupted by a little sudden thrust he makes. “oh, ah, Ford!”

“Shh, i’ve got you, love,” Ford gives you a warm loving smile, rocking his hips gently. “you were so good for me, sweetheart.” he looks at you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered, like he’d give you the whole world if you asked and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your crazy heart thunders in your ears as you hug and cuddle him, lost in the way he fills you so completely, so perfectly, like you were made for this.

The two of you don’t even bother moving because there’s simply no energy left to clean up. Ford stays buried inside you with his heavy body on top of yours like a blanket. For the first time in life, you feel that safe, good and loved, warm and. . . full in every sense of the word.

Sometime later. . . hours? you’re not sure, but the soft gray light of dawn creeping through the curtains. You feel Ford’s broad chest pressed against your back and suddenly his hand skims up your thigh.

“Ford,” you murmur, half-asleep as his lips brush the curve of your shoulder. His hand finds your leg, gently lifting it as he settles himself against you. “yes, please. . .” you smile, closing your eyes as you feel his cock rubbing against your folds.

He kisses the side of your neck. “just need you again, can’t help it. . . need to feel your pussy around me.”

You moan softly as he slides into you from behind. The angle is perfect as he fills you, sending shivers through your sleepy body. His hand lays on your thigh, holding you steady as he starts rocking into you, slowly, still sleepy, but fucking deep, each thrust making you sigh and whimper.

“I’ll never get enough of you,” his free hand skims over your waist, cupping your breast and playing with your nipple.

Meanwhile your hand reaches back to clutch at his hip and your head falls back onto his shoulder, Ford drives deeper into your pussy. “Ford. . . oh, Ford, yesss. . . just like that.” you mewl sleepily when you feel his fingers on your clit.

You dont know what time is it, probably very very early morning, but you let him take you. There’s no rush, no urgency, just sleepy, languid thrusts and quiet soft moans you two share in the early morning while being half awake.

The sun is higher now, casting autumn golden streaks across the room, when you wake again. You’re alone in the bed and your body deliciously sore, marked with the evidence of last night. . . and this morning. Faint marks of kisses and hickeys bloom along your skin, the ache in your thighs reminds you of how thoroughly he’d claimed you.

The blanket is all over you, keeping you warm despite your nudity. You stretch out, yawning and blink away the last traces of sleep, but you notice him at the edge of the bed. Ford sits with his scarred back to you, hair messy, but his posture is perfectly straight as he leans over his. . . ah, yeah, now you see it, journal.

He’s scribbling something down there, intense focused, face serious and you just lay there, enjoying comfortable silence and watching him, taking in the way he looks so handsome even in his rumpled state.

“Morning, genius,” you murmur finally.

Ford glances over his shoulder. “Oh, good morning, love,” he says warmly, setting the journal aside and moving to your side of the bed. He leans down to kiss you, brushing his hand over your hair. “how are you feeling?”

“Sore,” you admit with a smile as you stretch beneath the blanket.

Ford studies you. “i’d say that’s to be expected. Rest a bit longer, okay? I’ll make us something to eat soon.”

“You better hurry because i’m so starved,” you yawn, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Starved, are you? well, you’re taking a shower first,” he says seriously, though his tone remains gentle. “you’re not wandering around covered in. . .” he stops himself as his cheeks flush a little, trying to find right words to use.

“Hm? Covered in what, ford?” you tease, propping yourself up on one elbow.

“You know what, honey, don’t make me say that.”

Your eyes flick to his journal. “what are you even writing in there, anyway? can’t believe you’re making notes after the night we had. Is it, like, some x-rated research?”

Because of your question, Ford straightens up, his face expression changes, the earlier embarrassment melting away as excitement takes its place. He looks like he’s just cracked the secret of the universe. “actually,” he begins, adjusting his glasses, “i think i’ve finally solved the equation for that anomaly we’ve been tracking! The one that disappeared because of the rainstorm, remember? I had a theory about the dimensional distortion rate and this morning, it all just clicked!” Ford launches into an explanation now.

You, however, just blink at him and knowing grin spreads across your face. “so, what you’re saying is. . . my pussy literally makes you smarter?”

Ford stops mid-sentence as he stares at you, flustered. “i— I wouldn’t put it like that,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, looking everywhere except at you. “but. . . perhaps there’s a correlation. . .”

You just laugh, dropping back onto the pillows as you watch his awkward attempts to compose himself. “yeah, yeah, Ford, I got you.”

He grumbles something about inappropriate comments, but the corners of his mouth betray him, curving into a shy smile.

“So, my pussy is the key to unlocking the mysteries of the universe? Who knew i was a genius all along.”

Ford groans, hiding his face in his hands, “Oh my god,” he says your name. “you’re impossible.”

#gravity falls #x reader #gravity falls smut #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #ford pines x reader #ford pines smut #stanford pines #ford pines x you #stanford pines x you #stanford pines x reader #gravity falls fanfiction #grunkle ford

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cobaltperun · 3 days ago

Text

Eternal Flame (8) - City Lights

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

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Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

Word Count: 8.1k

-So when I touch that sky, will the ladder break? And who will be there on my fall from grace?-

You managed to dry your hair a lot easier and quicker than you thought you would, but you still remained in the bathroom, trying to calm your nerves down. This was it. You were at Jenna's house, you've sort of met her family, or at least a part of it, and you made things a bit awkward. Which was not what you wanted to do, and the last thing you wished for right now was to make things even more awkward. Your wishes meant nothing, however, because the way you would be meeting them now would be doing exactly that. It would be bizarre, absolutely ridiculous, because you wouldn't be coming in from the outside, you would be coming from upstairs, where just to make it even more awkward, their bedrooms were, down to the living room.

If you weren't so nervous it probably would have crossed your mind that it looked like Jenna had brought her lover over to her home in the middle of the night. And now that lover was coming down to meet her family after a long night together.

Damn rain.

Embarrassment and awkward meetings aside, the pain was also getting a bit uncomfortable, so you reached into your bag and downed two pills to help you with the pain. “OK, I can do this,” you whispered, and took several deep breaths, just to buy yourself a bit more time. Finally, you plucked up the courage and went back to Jenna's room to see her hastily folding her shirts. She was chewing on her lower lip, and you figured she was even more embarrassed than you. You weren't lying to her, you really did find this endearing and it really wasn't as messy as she thought it was.

Jenna looked up when she heard the doors closing, you probably should have knocked, but in your defense she left the doors opened. She looked you over, pretty much checking you out as you wore the light gray shirt that belonged to her father. It was a bit big for you, since as strong as you were you had more of a lean build than a bulky one, but it would do.

“You look nervous,” she pointed out and walked up to you, but there was no denying that both of you were feeling like that.

You just shrugged, hoping to play it cool, more for your own sake than any other reason. “I'm not really used to meeting the family,” you admitted, having no troubles in expressing how you felt about this. You wanted to meet them, you were eager to do so, but there definitely was some sort of nervousness about the entire ordeal. After all, you did have feelings for Jenna.

Jenna smiled and slowly, rather gently, caressed your cheek. “They’ll love you, just like-“ and she paused, catching herself before she could finish that sentence but you could see it in the startled expression on her face and the way her hand froze. If anyone asked you, you wouldn’t be able to say what exactly happened, but you were overcome with feelings and in that moment you just pulled her in holding her tightly and actually lifting her up. Jenna, though for a moment startled by the display affection, quickly hugged you back, squeezing you tightly around your shoulders and neck. She took a deep breath as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. “-like I do,” she finished that sentence and kissed your cheek. “And I really, really do love you a lot,” she whispered her voice shaky, the tone of it trembling and betraying the slight insecurity she felt.

“I love you too. Jenna, you mean so much to me,” you couldn't even begin to describe everything she meant to you. Even if you found the words that could describe your feelings, you couldn't tell her without telling her about the fights. And at that moment, as you felt both the warmth of her presence, and the pain from the bruises, you came to a startling realization. You trembled for a moment, almost overcome by the sense of clarity that you suddenly got. You were almost ready to just give it all up, to push through and quit fighting, to end the cycle and find a way, any way you could, to actually feel worthy of loving her.

“Y/N,” your name fell from her lips, and you were fairly certain no one had ever nor will anyone ever speak your name as sweetly as she did.

“Jenna what's taking so long? Oh shit, sorry,” the two of you were suddenly interrupted by Jenna’s younger sister, Aliyah, coming in and you quickly separated.

Jenna cleared her throat as she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart down and gestured toward Aliyah. “This is my younger sister, Aliyah,” she then gestured at you while slightly glaring at her sister. “Aliyah, this is Y/N,” she introduced the two of you each other since you were already in the same room. Might as well get one introduction out of the way.

You quickly offered Aliyah your hands and she shook. “It's nice to meet you,” you said and she nodded, an amused smile spreading on her face as she looked from you to Jenna.

“Guess I don't get a hug, do I?” she teased, and with the way Jenna looked down and slapped her forehead you just knew this wasn’t going to be the only teasing you and Jenna were going to get. “Reeree, I told you to warn me if you needed a room to yourself,” oh, this was the absolute disaster, she was even more direct about it than Enrique. She might even be able to give Barbara a run for her money, and she was what? Sixteen? You shivered at the thought of all the teasing you and Jenna might have to endure when she gets older, or in the even worst case scenario, she ends up teaming up with Barbara.

“That’s not what was going on!” Jenna cried out and just as Aliyah was about to open her mouth again Jenna grabbed your hand and pulled you out. “Not a single word, we are going down so Y/N can meet everyone else!” Jenna put a stop to whatever Aliyah was going to say and you let Jenna pull you along as Aliyah laughed behind the two of you.

Yeah, this was happening, you were about to meet the family.

~X~

Fire. That's exactly how Jenna would describe what was going on between the two of you. Even now, though she could no longer feel your hands around her, she still felt like her skin was burning, yearning for the same sensation she got when you held her. The same sensation she was trying to invoke by holding your hand right now, but it just wasn't enough. She wanted more, she wanted that warmth to be surrounding her again, to feel it consuming her from the inside. It was both a physical and an emotional need, and they were both fulfilled at the same time when she felt your touch. And it felt so damn good, so addictive.

She glanced back at you, noticing the way your eyes were focusing on your hands, locked together as you walked just a bit behind her, and she wondered what you were thinking. You felt this too, didn’t you? Jenna found herself wondered if the two of you would have kissed if only you were given a few extra minutes, because she certainly felt like she was ready for that step.

You lifted her up so easily. And the way you held her, she couldn't even describe it properly. The closest description she could come up with was that you held her like you had nothing more precious in your life than her. And it almost frightened her with how intense and raw it was, how genuine and vulnerable you could be. Not to mention how you responded to her own vulnerability not by making her feel ashamed for acting like that but by supporting her through it and letting her see that you were perfectly fine with her being vulnerable.

And she wanted it almost desperately. She wanted to feel all of that with you, to feel all of those emotions, only unrestrained by this friendship, because as raw and intense as it was there was this restraint put on it all by the label you both put on your relationship. And she could no longer avoid accepting that she wanted that restraint gone.

Jenna knew, she one hundred percent knew, that if circumstances were any different, if you were alone, at her place in LA or at your place, and if that happened there that she wouldn’t just kiss you. No, she would have done so much more, letting you do whatever you wanted to do to her. She swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing her mind out of the gutter.

And to try and keep those thoughts at bay, because she wouldn’t be a hormonal teenager right now, she went and looked back at you. Because of course that would help push those thoughts away.

As she led you down the stairs, she caught you taking her childhood home in, looking at the photos her parents hung on the walls. There were many of them, after all they were a big family, and the photos showed that. There were photos of her, her siblings and her parents, as well as her nephews and even some of her extended family. Her mom loved keeping the memories through the photos and Jenna wished she could get into that habit as well. Every special occasion was accompanied with the photo, and she wondered how your own parents house was. Were there photos of you while you were filming Logan or maybe when you finished high school or maybe other things like that? Or maybe your parents were more of a ‘keeping things in memory’ kind of couple, instead of hanging everything on the walls and keeping the physical reminders of those times.

Jenna wanted to meet them. To see for herself the kind of people that raised you and made you the way you were right now. With how loving you were they must have done something right. In a way, and perhaps she just noticed it today, you treated every moment with people you loved like it could be the last one. And not in the negative way. It was just that when you cared for someone and could also relax all of your attention was on that someone.

And that realization brought those desires right back to the front of her mind. How deeply and passionately would you love someone if you treated friends like that? Jenna wondered what you were thinking right now, she wondered if you wanted her as much as she wanted you. Somehow a thought crossed your mind that you wanted her even more. And it made that warmth from the spreading through her like a flame that would never extinguished.

When the two of you reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped back into the living room, she saw the table was set, with her dad already sitting there at the head of the table, while her mom and Markus were watching a football game. It was like her family was creating a sort of a bubble around them, hoping to have a moment of normalcy before your presence sort of shattered it into pieces. After all, they all probably saw right through her and by now knew this wasn't just her inviting friends over.

Jenna cleared her throat and the bubble the family was happily in burst as they all turned to look at you and Jenna.

“Uh, hello, again” you said and raised your hand to wave slightly. That nervous grin on your face was honestly more than a little endearing to Jenna. She found this a bit more shy and reserved side of you to be a surprise, if she was honest. You've always had this air of confidence and ‘I can do anything’ kind of attitude, but here you were, meeting her family and acting a bit like a dork, which was something she could definitely enjoy seeing more often.

Jenna’s mom was the first to get up, seeing as she met you briefly. It was clear all of you were trying to ignore that you came back from upstairs and how it looked. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again,” she came up to you and surprisingly pulled you into a brief hug. You returned it, but Jenna could see you were genuinely surprised by this greeting.

“Jenna can’t shut up about you,” Jenna’s sister, Aliyah, chimed in behind you. Oh, right, she came downstairs with the two of you, and now she was going to turn Jenna's day from very, very pleasurable to potentially ‘The Teasing from Hell - Part 2: The Return of Enrique’s Disciple’.

It was one hell of a miracle that he wasn’t here as well, since he promised he’d be here to watch the show and tease her. Not that it mattered. Aliyah was here to fill in for him. Why couldn’t Aliyah be her natural shy self instead of relishing in the opportunity to tease her?

“I can!” Jenna quickly retorted and turned away from you. She did not deny that she was talking about you though, she just couldn’t deny it, or, honestly, shut up about you. She's been talking about you meeting her family ever since she plucked up the courage to tell then you were coming, and she would be the first to admit it was a bit annoying.

“Sure you can, Jenna,” Markus teased her and just like that her younger brother came up to you and greeted you, and all that was left was her dad.

The man came out of the dining room and looked you over, studying you, And Jenna herself got nervous imagining how you must have felt under his gaze. He was a cop, after all, and worst of all Jenna wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for. She just noticed he focused on your hand, and not the left hand she was holding, but rather on your right hand, and your knuckles in particular. Jenna couldn't quite figure it out, but he frowned for a moment. “You do lots of martial arts, don't you?” he asked, and Jenna couldn’t figure out how looking at your fist told him that, and sure, he heard about it from Jenna, but it looked like he would have figured it out from looking at your fist.

“Yes, I've been practicing different martial arts for several years now. Since I was roughly thirteen,” you replied casually, and her dad nodded. Frankly, she wasn't sure what else he was expecting.

“Welcome, Y/N, nice to meet you,” after what felt like eternity he went and offered his hand to you, and you accepted it.

“It’s nice meeting you all,” you said, now sounding a lot more confident than before and she breathed out a small sigh of relief because this was more along the lines of what she expected from you.

“Come on you two, let’s eat,” her mom told the two of you, and while still holding hands Jenna and you followed the rest of her family to the table. Just like before you went and pulled the chair out for her, now feeling a lot more in your element, as you pretty much, and very likely now that she thought about it, ignored the stares of her family and just focused on doing what you did the best. Making Jenna feel seen, cared for, and accepted.

“Thanks,” this time she had to hold from tugging you down so you could hug her again and instead just patted you on the back of your hand as you pushed her chair in.

“Anytime,” you said and sat down on the chair to her left.

~X~

The lunch was, in one word, amazing. Natalie was an incredible cook, both when it came to variety and the taste, making a wide array of Mexican food as well as several other dishes. You honestly weren’t even sure where to start as Jenna put the food on your plate. Natalie and Aliyah were sitting on the other side of the table, while Markus sat to your left and Edward sat at the head of the table, on Jenna’s right side.

“Thanks, Jen,” you thanked her before you all started eating, you missed the smile on Natalie’s face at the nickname you kept using.

“Could you pass me the hot sauce?” she asked pointing at the sauce close to you. By the looks of it, you both slipped right back into the old habits from the set of Scream.

“Sure,” you handed it to her, and then put it back where it was when she poured it over her tacos. She definitely loved spicy food, and you were still amazed with how well she could handle hot food.

“The food is amazing, Natalie,” you complimented as you swallowed the first bite of your own taco. It was good that Jenna told you in advance her mom was the one who prepared the food.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Natalie nodded and smiled at the compliment.

“Told you, you have competition,” Jenna pointed out. “Too bad I couldn’t save a single piece of that cake for you.”

“I don’t know, this is a tough act to follow,” and you were being honest, you could cook, but this was truly something. “But, challenge accepted, I need to have all of you over for a dinner sooner or later,” and you would actually put extra effort into that dinner. Cooking wouldn’t be an issue, the main trouble would be how you could handle finding enough space for all of them, because your apartment definitely wasn't fit for a huge family. Well, you would figure something out when the time comes.

“Count me in, I need to see if Jenna was exaggerating,” Aliyah promised you and you grinned a bit when Jenna groaned and lowered her head. “I'm telling you, she just keeps yapping on and on about you! I wasn't kidding when I said I told her to tell me if she needed the room to herself,” you shrunk a bit in your seat because of Aliyah’s words. Both the fact that Jenna talked about you so much and the implications of the second part making you feel more than a bit embarrassed.

“I don't need the room to myself!” Jenna exclaimed, blushing like crazy when she said that, and you closed your eyes. Yet, even with your eyes closed you could see it coming from a mile away, that was just the interlude into the real tease.

“Considering what I caught the two of you doing, I'm not so sure,” there. There it was. And the silence that followed those words was deafening, and you could feel Jenna's parents looking right at you.

“You should probably run,” Jenna’s brother, Markus told you and your eyes widened as you looked at him and he just nodded. “It was good meeting you,” he wasn’t even joking! Jenna had dry humor, but this guy was just being serious!

“We were just hugging!” Jenna cried out, hoping to prevent the potential harm that could fall upon you and you nodded as quickly as you could. Now that you were thinking about it, well that wasn't really going in your favor either, because you spent hours with Jenna alone and somehow you were still hugging. Could it have been nothing? Absolutely! It could have been just a friendly display of affection between friends. Yet the circumstances weren't in your favor, and you found yourself staring blankly at Aliyah.

“What have I ever done to you?” you mouthed and she just shrugged. You were met with us sorry not sorry look in her eyes.

“Right, that happened,” Natalie turned back to her plate hoping to lower the tensions and the blood pressure of her husband, and then she looked at you again. “So, Y/N, can you tell us a bit about your family?”

Someone please bring the teasing back.

You froze for a moment, nearly dropping the fork in your hand. “Sure, sure,” your voice cracked as you were suddenly put on a spot. “Yeah, of course. I am an only child,” you could feel Jenna’s eyes on you, you could feel everyone’s attention on you, even more so with that initial reaction, and you looked at Jenna, partly to calm down and in the process catching the genuinely surprised look in her eyes. She clearly didn't expect you to freeze like that, and you definitely didn't blame her. You didn't think she could even begin to imagine that your parents were no longer alive.

“And your parents? What do they do?” Edward asked, raising an eyebrow but brushing the reaction off as just you being surprised.

“Mom was a pilot and dad worked in cybersecurity,” you replied, voice hoarse as you answered. Back when you were growing up both those jobs, and your parents as well, looked like heroes in your eyes. You looked up to them, always wanting to make them proud, they looked like they were flawless when you were a child. And they made sure you never noticed or suffered because of tension and problems in their marriage, they kept you as protected from those issues as they possibly could. Maybe that was part of the reason why you felt so inadequate and useless when they were gone and you couldn’t do anything, because they created this image of always having answers and solutions, and when it was your turn to do the same you failed.

The bite Jenna took of her salad went and got stuck in her throat and you quickly patted her on the back, which luckily helped. “Sorry. I should have… Fuck, I feel horrible now,” she lowered her head, ashamed and all you felt now was guilt over making her feel like this. She caught it, they all caught it, the fact that you spoke in past tense, combined with the fact that you never mentioned them to Jenna, and how you reacted to the question. There was no doubt about it in anyone’s mind.

“I'm sorry, let's not make this awkward. It was,” you paused, putting your emotions back under control, not letting a single hint of weakness slip through the cracks. “There was an accident and they,” you looked down, forcing those feelings further down, forcing the normality without this conversation back upon you all. “Yeah, it's been a while, I’m fine now,” you tried brushing it off, and fixing the situation. “Jenna told me you've been incredibly supportive of her ever since she was starting out and now of course. I've actually been really curious to know about it,” you tried to get her family to talk about something else and luckily given the nature of the topic that was just breached it looked like everyone was really eager to make things less awkward.

Jenna actually took your hand and squeezed it and she leaned closer to you, letting your shoulders touch and it was like the weight fell from your shoulders and you could once again breathe. No one said a single word about it, not the single teasing remark even though it was in plain sight and you appreciated it, smiling gently at her to show it to her.

~X~

The guilt was absolutely wrecking her from the inside, and she thought back to all of those times she wished she could meet your parents. And sure, you never told her your parents were dead, and there was no way she could have known but at the same time she also felt that she really should have figured out something wasn't completely right. And she noticed it, but she kept trying to come up with different explanation. You came back and only Barbara was in your apartment? You didn’t live with your parents. You forgot about Thanksgiving? Maybe you had a bad relationship with your parents, or they simply didn’t celebrate it. Yet it never crossed her mind that they were taken away from you in what you described as an accident.

How old were you? You said it’s been a while. Were you as old as she was now? Younger? She glanced at Aliyah and Markus, wondering how they would take losing their parents right now? Jenna herself knew she would fall apart if she suddenly lost them, and she probably wouldn’t be able to pick up the pieces any time soon. And she’d still have her siblings left! You were an only child, suddenly left without parents!

You were completely honest when you said you didn't want to make things awkward and you did everything humanly possible to get the mood up again and make her family feel no guilt over bringing your parents up. And she barely held back her tears at that. As she realized that whether consciously or unconsciously you felt like there was something wrong with sharing this and still feeling hurt over it, and that you needed to fix it.

And in that single moment of realization Jenna understood she was helpless. For so many reasons, and she couldn’t even turn to her parents for help. After all, her family wasn't exactly the best with handling emotions, especially since you were basically a stranger they only heard about from her. And the worst thing was that she couldn’t help you either. She watched you falling apart on the inside, cracking and trying to pull all the pieces back together like someone just shattered you. All the while she couldn’t do anything and was only reminded of the time she had her panic attack.

You came in and helped her, calmed her down, saved her from those feelings and understood exactly what she needed. Now here she was, seeing you were in pain and completely unable to figure out a way to help you, to make you hurt less. And that feeling only got worse by the realization that you were putting the feelings of her and her family over your own, trying to reset things for their sake. Touching you like this wasn’t enough, this minimal contact did nothing but reveal to her how you were trembling, the slight tremors of your body barely noticeable to those watching you, but she felt it against her.

She had to do something. “Excuse us for a moment,” she quickly got up and you looked at her, startled, as she pulled you to the hall, figuring out it would give you more privacy than the living room that wasn’t even entirely separated from the dining room and the kitchen.

“Jenna,” you began, and she didn’t even need to hear you out, she knew you’d tell her you were fine, so, instead of letting you utter that lie she just pulled you down until your face was buried in her neck.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, only knowing that losing her loved ones was her greatest fear, but not having any idea how to take it that next step further and relate to such a heavy loss. “Don’t hide it from me, please,” she pleaded, her fingers digging into your hair, her lips right next to your ear. “Please, Y/N,” she whispered, no longer even trying to hold her tears back.

And instead of opening up, instead of letting her help you, you brushed her tears away and hugged her. “I’m fine,” you told her, you lied, you weren’t ready to say it, but she could feel the tension in your body lessening just a bit. “I’m fine,” who exactly were you trying to convince? “I’m so sorry, Jenna,” you were so close to telling her something, she could tell, but at the same time deep down she knew this wouldn’t get her anywhere.

Yet you still fell to your knees, and Jenna followed you down, trying her best to hold you up, to keep you from crumbling. “I couldn’t. I had no other choice, I was desperate,” you gasped for air, and she found herself rubbing soft circles in your back, trying to mimic what you did to calm her down.

“I’m with you, I’ve got you,” she whispered, and brushed her thumb along your cheek, thinking she’d brush a tear off, yet there were no tears. “You have me,” and perhaps that lack of tears, the grief cocooned in some impenetrable armor, broke and hurt her the most. You wanted to fall apart in her arms, to let it all out, and you just didn’t know how. “Y/N,” she cried your name out and your breath hitched as you desperately held onto her.

“I can’t stop. Don’t deserve to stop,” you weren’t making sense, and she felt fear creeping into her heart. What couldn’t you stop? Why did she feel like she was losing you to whatever it was, to whatever you thought you didn’t deserve to stop? “Need it. I failed. Couldn’t continue, couldn’t- I- It’s not- I should have,” it wasn’t making sense.

“Please don’t, please just stop,” she pleaded, blurting those words out without realizing what they would mean to you, breaking with every word you spoke. Feeling a pain so visceral it was pushing her to her limits and it almost felt like she was physically hurting. She wanted you to stop, to take a breath and tell her everything properly, to open up and not just crack in random places. And you just shut your mouth. “Hey, hey wait, not like that,” she cried for you, only now realizing you thought she asked you to stop talking entirely. “Y/N, no, don’t. Talk to me,” it was too late, she lost the chance. The cracks sealed up and you just pushed it all down.

She felt you pulling away from her, and she pulled you back in, holding you there with all of her strength, almost clinging to you and keeping you in place with her entire weight. “I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean that,” but your breathing was once again steady and calm.

“Let’s just go back, your family is waiting,” you whispered, pulling her up to her feet and despite her efforts pulling away and smiling at her. “Thanks for trying,” you said and leaned back against the wall, and she shook her head, hugging you and burying her face in your chest, barely caring that her tears would be visible on the light gray shirt.

“This isn’t how I wanted things to go,” she wanted to help you, yet she failed. She didn’t have the right words, didn’t know how to reach you.

“I know,” you rubbed her back, calming her down when it was supposed to be the other way around. You were forcing yourself to be strong for her. Letting her cry her heart out for you.

“Please, I can’t lose you. Couldn’t take it and it felt like I was losing you,” she missed the way your eyes widened at those words. “Don’t want this with anyone else but you,” she wasn’t even sure what ‘this’ was, she just felt it so deep inside her heart. “I want all of you, Y/N,” and she wanted to give you all of her.

“I’ll fix it,” she nearly missed the words you whispered, almost too quietly, despite how close Jenna was to you. She certainly missed the look of absolute resolve in your eyes. Either way, for one hopeful moment she thought you had started talking again, but you didn’t say a single word after that. No. You just let her silently cry until her tears ran out, until your touch filled her with warmth once more, and only then you separated, and you wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Come on, food’s getting cold,” this time you were the one guiding her back to her family, putting on the mask of confidence and acting like what you went through didn’t come out.

So, Jenna would act like it as well, pretending in front of her family that pulling you away from them had a purpose, that it did something good for you, instead of just making you feel like you had to suppress your feelings around her. She would do it, and she wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was to help her family and prevent them from feeling guilty, maybe there was some other reason, at this point it hardly mattered.

You all seemed to just pretend that single minute at the table never happened.

And Jenna wasn’t sure if she should feel grateful or even more worried for you.

For now she could do nothing but look at you, observe you as you began talking to her family as if nothing happened, and bit by bit she began believing the illusion as well.

As the lunch ended Jenna watched you, almost mesmerized as you talked to her mom about the different foods and recipes. Her heart beat faster as she noticed how you focused on learning which food Jenna loved the most, picking up even more secrets and information that you didn't get to learn while you were on set together. This, you with her family, was something she could easily get used to. There was a slightly selfish part of her that hoped that's maybe one day would consider her family your own family and that it would at least slightly fill the void of loss you’ve been feeling for so long. Maybe that would be the thing to help you through the grief. Maybe she just wasn’t enough on her own.

"Are you kidding me?" your eyes widened, and you turned to Jenna. It was like the cracks never showed up, and you were perfectly fine. "You got apples three times?" you asked incredulously after her mom told you about the misfortune she had when she was doing ads. It wasn’t just your effort to cover up the cracks. It was her family as well, consciously making an effort not to help you with what you were feeling, but to cover it up, unsure what to do if it came up again.

Jenna swallowed the lump in her throat, tears once again threatening to fall as this realization hit her as well. Her family couldn’t fill that void, not without a huge effort on both sides, and while she knew her family loved her and that they would love you, she knew they wouldn’t have the time to put that kind of effort in. And while you were doing your absolute best to reset things back to how they were before they all found out your parents were dead Jenna was once more struggling to do her part.

She was an actress, and right now she needed to play a role with you, to fake it until it turned to reality. So, so half blacked-out, pretending she was just acting. She frowned at the memory. She despised apples now. "Yeah, I think I'd rather starve than eat them ever again. I can't even look at them without feeling angry," she finished with a laugh, a bit forced but it worked, it did the job.

You joined her and leaned back a bit, your smile looking a lot lighter and easier than her own. "Good thing I never got the urge to make an apple pie," you may have said that, but Jenna could see you cataloguing her hatred toward apples for later. Somehow she also believed that you would make even an apple pie taste good.

"As long as you make it just make it spicy and vegetarian and Jenna will love it," Aliyah seemed to be dead set on embarrassing her. She even patted you on the back a few times as she went to put away her plate. This time Jenna let it slide because it genuinely made you smile, and that was all she cared about right now, that you were actually fine and not just forcing yourself to be happy.

"And you have to learn how to make guac," Markus just added fuel to the fire. And you just added another information to wherever you were filing the information you were getting. Even if she would much rather make guac for you herself. More than a few times, and preferably often, many, many times, just for the two of you.

"I need to make urnebes salad for you," you said directly to her. "Red bell peppers, chili peppers, cheese, it's a nice, spicy salad," that definitely sounded like something she would like, and she absolutely wanted you to make things for her. Wanted to experience so much with you, try new foods, try new things in general with you, and having you in her life as much as possible.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Jenna told you and you just grinned.

“Okay, how about we all go outside and take a group selfie?” her mom suggested taking Jenna by surprise. You did what you intended, you got everything back on track, even when you were the one that the most affected by all of this. That should have made her relax but it just made her heart clench painfully at that thought.

So, she focused on what was going on instead of on what she was feeling. Her mom definitely loved taking photos, keeping the memories of good times lasting longer and documenting anything she deemed important or worthy of a photo. So, maybe she shouldn’t have been as surprised, but it still felt a bit unexpected, and she hoped you didn’t mind. Looking at your face she didn’t notice any changes, or discomfort.

Granted, you just showed her you absolutely could mask any pain you felt in pretty much an instant. This seemed genuine though, this really seemed like you didn’t mind taking a photo with her family.

So, you followed after her into the backyard where the two of you and her family got ready for her mom to take the photo. What she didn’t expect was for you to suddenly mess up her hair just as her mom took the selfie.

Apparently, you were actually back to normal, and the grin on your face proved it to her.

“Oh my,” her mom chuckled, and Jenna saw her hair was covering most of her face on the photo.

“Y/N,” she spoke calmly, but you already began running, and fine, if that was how you were going to act, then she could play that game too. “It’s fine, I promise!” she exclaimed as she began chasing you, you were laughing and it truly was fine but as long as you were laughing then she was going to keep chasing after you. Just to listen to your laughter for a bit more, because after what happened in the hall, she needed this. She needed you to laugh with her, to tease her, to make her flustered and blush, and make her heart beat wildly inside her chest.

“Then why are you chasing me?” you laughed and Jenna found herself grinning as well, especially when she heard her family holding back their own laughs. This was what she wanted, seeing you like this, free from that tension from before.

She didn’t see this side of you on the set, the childish, silly side that somehow ended up relaxing her even more. “Because you’re running!” it made no sense, but she truly didn’t care. For some reason you got tired a bit quicker than she expected you would, and she smirked speeding up and catching you from behind, hugging you tightly. “Got you,” she laughed and leaned her forehead against your back as she caught her breath.

“Yeah, you got me,” you sounded so genuine, and she could have sworn there was a double meaning to those words. She just didn’t understand it yet.

She wanted to tell you more, but the words got stuck in her throat and despite spending over half an hour thinking about it she suddenly wasn't sure she even had the right words to say to you. “You have me,” she spoke, hoping against hope that those three worlds would convey everything she felt. That they would be enough for you to know that she was with you completely, no matter what happened, no matter what the future brought. She needed you to know that you had her on your side and that you could turn to her at any moment for anything.

“You have me too,” you replied and relief flooded her heart. You understood and then you turned around and she was sure you would hug her back. Jenna looked you in the eyes, expecting a hug, only to be met by a mischievous look on your face as you went and booped her on the nose. “Let’s go back before your parents kill me,” you joked and she rolled her eyes, letting you go and walking slightly ahead of you.

“They wouldn’t,” she denied it as the two of you began heading back toward the house. Her family was already back inside, clearly giving the two of you a moment.

“You think? Your dad is a cop and in his eyes, I’m trying to seduce his baby girl,” you whisper shouted just loud enough for her to hear and she burst out laughing.

“Guess you'll have to set your sight on another girl then, won't you,” even as she joked back she had to admit there was a hint of jealousy in her voice at the mere thought of you with another girl.

Then, as if you sensed just how much power your touch had over her, you pulled her back and into your arms. And Jenna gasped as she felt your left hand on the small of her back, keeping her body pressed right against yours. And the look in your eyes? Jenna found herself melting at the intensity and raw emotion in your gaze. “I can’t,” you didn’t need to say another word. You made your message very, very clear.

“Good to know,” her voice cracked several times in those three words and she forced herself to just very slowly step away from you because her legs weren't exactly steady right now. It wasn’t a day of ups and downs with you today, it was a rollercoaster, and it was clear both of you were trying to bring things back to how they usually were by taking things up to eleven.

~X~

Two hours later you've gotten quite comfortable around Jenna's family, even though you could still see the somewhat scary that look Edward was giving you every time you and Jenna got particularly close to one another. Just another proof that the incident from lunch was mostly forgotten, and the way Jenna reacted to your admission that you couldn’t find another girl told you things between the two of you would be fine as well.

There seemed to be a silent conversation between Jenna and her mother until Jenna finally groaned and got up, leaving you on your own with her family from the looks of it.

“Can’t escape the dishes not even in a situation like this,” she half-jokingly complained to you and you automatically jumped to your feet. “Wait, what are you doing?” she asked, laughing as she pushed you slightly, though quite frankly you were barely feeling her efforts to get you back to sit down.

“Going to help you, of course,” you could see she was about to argue against it, and you quickly argued in favor of your plan before she do so. “I have a plane to catch very soon, let's do this one last thing together and then I can be on my way?” you tried to talk her into it and from the looks of it, it was working. Much like you, Jenna wanted to spend more time with you.

“Fine, but you only get to dry the dishes,” Jenna smiled softly as you pumped your fist in celebration. Granted, the reaction, while genuine, was a bit exaggerated, but you wanted to see her smiling, she didn’t smile that often since lunch. And you didn’t want to leave her like this, you wanted her happy, thinking back to this day fondly. You went into the kitchen where there were plenty of dishes from today's lunch. “Are you sure I can’t help you with more than just drying?” you asked and leaned on the counter next to her as she pulled out some cloth for you to dry the dishes with.

“Absolutely,” she began wiping any of the leftovers off the dishes and putting them back into the sink and you caught yourself just watching her. She was focused on the task and was actually even humming a bit. You didn't quite recognize the song but just listening to Jenna like this was more than enough for you. There was a very comfortable silence in the room, filled with occasional glances and chuckles, as if you were in on an inside joke that no one else knew about and you couldn’t even begin to describe how relieved you were because of that.

“You're staring,” she giggled and returned the favor as she booped your nose with a soap covered finger.

And you suddenly sneezed, barely getting enough time to cover your mouth. The soap kind of made you sneeze. “I was about to say you're beautiful, but I guess it won't work after this,” you rolled your eyes, silently cursing the timing of your sneeze.

“Goof,” Jenna rolled her eyes and you just chuckled at that, happy that everything was once more completely comfortable between you.

She finally handed you a plate to dry and 10 minutes later the two of you had finished washing the dishes and you were about to go and grab your bag. As much as you enjoyed this, you would have to leave in the next 10 to 15 minutes.

“So, this is it?” she said and you could see a question on the tip of her tongue.

“It was a good day,” you didn't even leave yet and you already felt this sense of longing for her. You couldn't tell when would be the next time you would see her, and right then and there, in what was possibly the worst moment, right in her parents’ kitchen, you nearly said it. You nearly told her what you were doing, because she deserved to know. You were both heading toward the point of no painless return. If this kept going even for a bit longer you would just end up hurting Jenna by keeping her in the dark. And you couldn’t have that. “I-“

But before you could say anything Natalie came up to the two of you. “Y/N,” she called out your name.

“Yes?” you weren't sure if you were relieved or not that you were interrupted like this.

“We've been thinking and it would really be a shame for you to go back to Denver today. You've been here for not even half a day and we have a free room,” she began and your eyes widened as you realized where this was going. “Aliyah can go and sleep in Mia's room, and Jenna can take Aliyah's bed so you can sleep in Jenna’s,” you glanced at Jenna and saw the look of pure happiness spreading on her face and that just took away all of your capability to argue against Natalie’s idea.

“I,” you still turned to Jenna with a raised eyebrow. “Do you want this?” you asked her. “It’s OK if you don't want it,” you assured Jenna, but her mom just chuckled, realizing much better than you just how ridiculous that idea was.

“And if I want you to stay?” Jenna asked a bit cheekily.

The answer was simple. “Then I'll stay,” and so the decision was made. You would be staying the night.

“I am betting my bed will remain empty tonight!” Aliyah yelled from the living room, embarrassing both you and Jenna.

Aliyah was absolutely wrong.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018

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#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x female reader #x reader #x female reader

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 days ago

Text

Two Good Reasons, Part 10

Summary: Happy Thanksgiving

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, "hut" Suede, sad Audrey, mean sister/aunt, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 8.6K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You lean over your son’s hospital bed. His tiny little body somehow looks even smaller now laying here passed out and helpless. Petting over his face, and sniffling when Andy calmly walks into the room, “How’s he doing?” He kisses your temple before leaning to kiss Suede’s forehead.

“He’s asleep. He’s okay, but a few ribs have been fractured due to the CPR. Nothing unusual,” the words are so heavy leaving your mouth; it’s the only way you can say them out loud. Nothing about this is usual. To think it could have been avoided completely. “They want him to stay the night here to monitor him.”

A silence falls over the room. You’re both beyond exhausted. You’re thankful that he fell back asleep in the ambulance. “He’s hurting so much, and there’s nothing I can do for him,” Andy pulls you into his warm embrace, and you bury your face in his chest. Everything is crashing down on you at that moment. Your baby is in pain, and there’s nothing you can do.

“How’s Audrey?” you wish you could hold her. Comfort your sweet angelic girl. Now that you have had time to breathe, you think of her pitiful voice, worrying about Suede dying.

Andy pulls you back to stare at your worn face. He’s never thought you looked as old as you feel, but right now you look so tired. Exhausted beyond what sleep could give you. “Ransom called on the way over here. Linda met them at Harlan’s. She’s okay, but worried about her brother and mom. He wants to know if you’d like him to bring her here to visit for a bit?” you respond by nodding your head.

You need to comfort her, too. As much as she worries about her brother on a daily basis, you know she’s not focused on anything but Suede, wondering how he’s doing. She needs to see he’s breathing, and he’s alive. Plus, you just want to hold her. “Did she look scared? I couldn’t — Andy, he needed me more.”

“Honey, nobody blames you for having to ignore her for a moment,” you wish there were two of you.

“But she’s always getting pushed to the side for his health, and it was her birthday, and…”

“This isn’t your fault,” he interrupts. His voice is so cold as he pulls you off his chest, “None of this is your fault. You had seconds to make a decision, and because of that our boy is alive,” ours. Andy is a better father. He deserved the title.

“Can I keep Suede from Scott? I don’t want him or Audrey around them. I can’t trust them. I’ll go to jail if I have to, but I-I-I-I I can’t lose my babies.”

“Shh,” he pulls you back into a bear hug, petting over your head. “Ray is going to push an emergency custody hearing, that you won’t have to be there for. This is a life and death situation, so no. You do not have to allow Scott to see the kids. I can’t — I can’t promise you sole custody. But this is enough to have supervised visitation,” it wasn’t ideal. But it was better than nothing. You couldn’t allow your babies there with him and Taylor.

Something about the whole situation just bubbles in your gut. Things have shifted. While you don’t think things were done on purpose, lazy negligence is still a form of child abuse. You can’t risk it anymore. You won’t. Your kids deserve better than that.

Ransom clears his throat behind you, because of course Andy told him to bring Audrey by already. He knew that you needed to see your daughter as much as she needed you. Sniffling you let go of Andy. Bending over, you rush towards Audrey, and pick your tiny little girl up. Squeezing her so tightly. “Mommy, I was so scared.”

“I know, baby. I was, too. But Suedey is so strong. He’s sleeping. And his breathing is good. He’s got some small fractures, and he’s in some pain, but he’s good. I’m sorry this happened on your birthday.”

“It’s okay,” no it wasn’t. “I didn’t want a birthday party anyways. I don’t want another one ever again,” you hope she didn’t mean that. Hope that this didn’t fully ruin her thoughts on birthdays all together. “Can we still go eat? Maybe soft play?”

“Suede can’t bounce around for a little bit. His chest has to heal. But we can go to eat. We could ask a friend if they’d like to go, and Andy and Suede can do something else?” She crinkles her nose, shaking her head.

“Oh. No, that’s okay,” it isn’t fair to Suede, but it isn’t fair to Audrey either. She’s a trooper and never blames him, but sometimes you wish she wasn’t so understanding. That she would ask questions. You fear she’s just suppressing those thoughts, and perhaps one day she’ll have an outburst and hate Suede for it. “How about his favorite pizza and then a movie.”

“How about what Audrey wants?”

“It’s okay. Can I see bubba?” You respond by walking her to the side of his bed. Tilting her head as she looks at him, she reaches out a small hand to pet over his, “Did Taylor do it on purpose?”

“I think Taylor just doesn’t think sometimes.”

“Then daddy should have checked for allergies?”

“Maybe mommy should have,” Andy clears his throat, and you turn to look at him. He just shakes his head, and reaches out his hand to place it on the small of your back. Silently telling you again that this isn’t your fault. It’ll take you some time before you believe that. If ever. You’re the main caregiver, and you should have known that Scott and Taylor weren’t responsible enough. And you’re the one that made them have Suede, too.

You could have brought him later. You could have kept an eye out for him, “Doe, you’re spiraling,” find you a man that knows what you’re feeling without being told. Find one that doesn’t make you cry, that holds you when you can’t stand up. Find one that makes you a better person. A better parent. And you did.

You inhale deeply, giving Audrey a kiss, “I know. Audrey, you are the bravest five year old that I know.”

“Suede is braver.”

“He’s brave because he has a brave big sister,” she buries her face into your neck, and you feel her tears. She was so scared. Still is. “He’s going to be okay, sissy.”

“You promise?” You would make sure he was okay, and he would continue to be.

“I do, baby. Now,” you pull her back to look at you, using your hands to wipe away the excess tears on her chubby cheeks. “Do you want to sleep here with me and Andy? Suede will be going home tomorrow.”

She nods her head, holding back onto you again. “Andy, did you…?”

“I got us all a change of clothes, honey. Ransom, thanks, man,” he gives his colleague, and friend, a hard handshake, and you thank him silently.

“Thank you, uncle Ann,” Ransom steps behind you, and out of character, kisses her on her head before patting your back, and leaving your family of four. The way Audrey clings to you, you wonder if she knows that you can’t let her see her daddy as of right now. It’s just something you physically can’t do. He doesn’t deserve them. Or your kindness.

“Ouch, mama,” Suede holds onto his chest after you ask him to pick up his dirty clothes. “Huts.”

“Suede,” Andy pops his head into the bedroom. Suede furrows his brows, but leans over to pick up the discarded pajamas, and tosses them into the hamper.

“Me tied!” he whines, stomping his foot for emphasis.

“I know you’re tired, buddy. But you can’t keep using your chest hurting as a way to get out of things. The doctor said you have to start moving again,” Suede huffs out a puff of air, and sits on his bed. Crossing his arms a bit too hard, his angry face turns into a pout, and he reaches his arms up for you. “Buddy, you can’t move too fast.”

“Come here, baby,” reaching down, you collect him in your arms, rocking him back and forth, “You okay?”

“Chess. It huts,” you know it did. You saw the x-rays. See the bruising still. “Me oom. Miss it.”

“We’re just going to be gone for a week,” Andy gives him a quick kiss to his head. “Doe, we gotta get going. Let me go get the princess. We’ve got to catch our flight. iPads are charged. Snacks are packed. Suede’s medicine is in mommy’s bag. And we’re going to Michigan!”

“Aye!” He claps his little hands together, forgetting about his sore chest. Distraction was the best tactic for him.

“Princess Audrey! Are you done brushing your teeth?” Andy jumps from the side of the door, and Audrey squeals. Laughing as she puts her toothbrush on her own bathroom counter. “Mommy, Suede, and I are ready. What about you?” She nods her head, jumping into his arms. “Lights off! Let’s get our butts to the airport.”

“Andy — daddy, I’ve never flown before. Is it scary?” You grab the kids’ backpacks out of the hall, glancing at Andy and your sweet angel. Even though she’s struggling on what she wants to call Andy, you love that she still wants to call him anything. He’d taken such good care of her while you tended to Suede, and then, you’d switch, so you can spend time with her. Not having to do this alone is making life so much more enjoyable.

“Of course not. You and Suede have some toys, and your iPads…”

“Mimis,” it’s a running joke now to make sure that minis are added to iPads every time, it made all the difference to clarify that they are minis. It’s one of Suede’s favorite pastimes. “Nini and Papa!”

Time to see your parents. And sister. And brother. They hadn’t seen you since Suede turned one, and then not long after your world slowly started to change. Ignoring all the signs that Scott was no good. Even your mother told you, practically begged you not to marry him. She’d said that she had a car ready to take you away from the venue. Your dad told her to mind her business. Oh well, Nini and Papa’s here we go.

——

“Do we get to sleep in uncle Ryan’s bed?” Both kids had been full of chatter since landing. They enjoyed flying, and did well, and the first time flyer baggies you gave to each passenger went well.

“No! Me seep wif mama daddy!” The two of them trudge up the steps. Suede grunting as he pulls the suitcase that he insisted he roll. “No no Uck Yan.”

“Who is yuck?”

“Nini!” The two of them scream, dropping their suitcases on the porch, and your mom bends down to see them better. Opening up her arms for a hug.

“Easy on Suede’s chest,” she grimaces, before gently hugging them. You reach for the bigger suitcase before Andy swoops to the back of the car. He almost pushed her hand off of it.

“Let me get these. You go on,” you want to help. You’re not helpless.

“I can get one of them.”

“No,” he answers with an abrupt finality. “Go with the kids,” you don’t know how to take that comment. It kind of hurts your feelings that he was short with you. And he didn’t even smile when saying it. You can help with luggage. They were your dern suitcases anyways. You had to do it by yourself when you were with Scott.

Suede pulls his shirt down, revealing his chest bruise, and telling his Nini ouch. “Hey mom,” you say, giving her the biggest hug.

“Hey Andy,” she says over your shoulder, ignoring you to watch your fiance lug the suitcases that you could have helped him with. “I’m glad the two of you finally came to your senses. I never liked the first one.”

“Mother!” Audrey makes a face at your mom, but Suede grabs Andy’s hand, repeating my daddy. And you just want to change the conversation away from Scott, “Is Ryan here?”

“He’s in the backyard with your father. Can Suede run?” That’s all he ever does some days.

“Chess me un ast. Atch me,” he sprints into the house, stopping when he has no idea which way to go. Looking back at Audrey who walks with him, shrugging.

“Audi, keep walking all the way straight back,” you tell them, nodding in the direction to the back porch.

“Andy, why don’t you take them out back. We’ll take the luggage upstairs,” you mother smiles so sweetly at Andy. You know he’s attractive, but she didn’t have to look at him like that.

“No,” he’s being ridiculous. You can carry the damn luggage. “I’ll put it by the stairs. Doe, don’t take them upstairs,” you roll your eyes as he grabs each of your babies’ hands in one of his, and your frustration all but disappears with how sweet he looks with them. Your vision goes a bit blurry watching as they walk towards the back door.

Finally get to enjoy the thing you’ve always wanted when pain radiates through your tit, and you yelp, glaring at your mom, “You just hit me!”

“They look quite full. Are you pregnant?” the woman smirks at you. First she slaps your boob, and now she’s smirking.

“No,” you start to walk away from her. You need to pee. It was a long ride. She follows you. Meeting your every step, “Drop it, mother.”

“Mother,” she mocks. “Why won’t Andy let you carry the luggage?” It was a good question, but one you didn’t have the answer to.

“Because…”

“I called to talk to the kids the other day, and you and Suede were napping,” he was tired, and looked so snuggly. It wasn’t your fault.

“So?” What is she going on about?

“You are looking fuller.”

“I am stressed!” Does she understand the stress you’ve been under? You just moved into your new home, and there’s boxes everywhere. You’re staying at home with Suede because you have a heavy fear that he will eat something he shouldn’t. Scott hasn’t even called his children. You’re going through a divorce. You eventually will plan an elopement of sorts. You are fucking stressed.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I mean it as — I saw you pregnant with Audrey. And your boobs are sensitive.”

“You slapped my tit,” okay, Andy made the same complaint. What the hell?

“I’ll ask Andy how sensitive they are.”

“Oh my god! Do not talk to Andy about my titties. You know. I told you, I can’t have more children.”

“You know,” she smirks as you walk away from her. You have to pee. “I always thought the problem was more the limp dick you were married to,” you giggle as you sit on the toilet. Leave it to your mom who had no filter to say anything like that. “I mean, think about it, maybe your stress with being his wife caused more of your issues, and he was the main problem.”

“He gave me two kids.”

“Yeah, and you did nothing,” your eyes go blank as you stare at the sink. Finished, but not getting up. It had been too long since you had a period. You have had sex with Andy more than you ever did with Scott in a year.

“Would you wipe your puss and get out here, so I can talk to you,” you didn’t really want to. You’re having a bit of a moment, and not really a crisis, but an emergency in your brain. What did this mean? She screams your name with her mouth pressed against the door, and you wipe. Pulling your leggings up, and wash your hands.

When you open the door, your mom is just smiling at you. “Andy suspects it, doesn’t he?” He’d ask you to take a test every time you had sex if you were being honest.

“He asked me to take a test.”

“Then take one,” that sounds too easy. Too simple. And you’ve already accepted you can’t have children anymore.

“But what if…”

“It’s negative? Who cares? You’re with the man I always knew was perfect for you. You’re with the man that will give you his life, and my grandbabies. If it’s negative, you keep bumping uglies until it happens, and if it doesn’t happen, there’s other options. What are you truly scared of? Scoot to find out that Andy can knock you up, while he couldn’t.”

“Two kids. Two beautiful perfect kids. Even Suede,” your mama pulls you in for a hug. Her hands move up and down your back, while she holds you like you were still a child.

“No matter what the asshole said about Suede, that little boy is beautiful and perfect. And he doesn’t deserve to see that little boy. Never did. But aren’t you glad that life led you back to Andy, so NaNa can become daddy?” Yes. You’re very grateful that Audrey and Suede had Andy. “How about you go outside with everyone, and I’m going to get a pregnancy test, and some alcohol that you can’t have. But I do want to see how Andy reacts to you trying to drink a beer.”

“You’re so mean.”

“And you’re so pregnant. Go spend some time with your daughter. I’m sure Uncle Ryan, dad, and Andy can keep Suede occupied. Maybe you and her can go get a mani/pedi? I hear that Julie has a couple openings in about thirty minutes,” you grin, pulling her in for another hug. “I know things have been tough with Suede, but make sure my girl gets some special treatment and one on one time with mommy, too, okay?”

Nodding your head, you pull away from her, and wipe your eyes. You really want to have special time with Audrey. As mature and patient as she is, she deserves it. “Thanks, mother.”

“I really hate it when you call me that. It always sounds so derogatory. By the way, we’ve got everything Suede proof as far as food goes. But don’t hesitate to look over everything just in case,” even your parents could do this. Make sacrifices for you so, when their father couldn’t, “I don’t know how desserts will work.”

“I’m going to make him something. Audrey loves it, too. They won’t even notice the pumpkin pie,” your mother looks at you over smiling, and shaking her head. “What?”

“I don’t know how you do it.”

“If it means keeping my boy safe, I just do it. Andy is aware of his allergies. He also can read labels. And there’s still plenty of snacks in their backpacks. Suede can get a bit snacky if you don’t watch him,” but what toddler didn’t?

“Sweetheart, go get Audrey and go see Julie. Make sure she gets glitter on her tiny little fingernails. Does she ever grow?”

“She will. She’s just petite. Leave her alone,” she was so cute being tiny. Suede has nearly caught up with her height wise. You hate to think you have a five year old. You’d love to keep her tiny and innocent. So the fact that she is so tiny, you like it. Makes her seem younger. “When will Morgan be here?”

Your mom cringes as she turns away from you, “What now?” You ask, already annoyed at the baby girl. Neither of your parents want to admit how spoiled she is.

“She’ll be here the night before Thanksgiving. Ryan’s ex is bringing Cooper and Conner on Thanksgiving, so you may have to give up a room,” you didn’t care. The plan is to have the kids in Ryan’s old room with the bunks, but you didn’t care if they just wanted to snuggle up with you and Andy. Sometimes you liked it when they just wanted to be with you. “Morgan…”

“Has a problem with me getting a divorce, but not Ryan. Got it. I’m taking Audrey to get our nails done,” you and Morgan are just too different. Enough of an age gap that you just seem like you are from two different worlds. She is babied. By everyone. She really didn’t like you moving to Massachusetts. Had a few choice words to you when you left Scott. She always got along better with him anyways.

If he was any type of man, he would call your kids. You wouldn’t deny him talking, or FaceTiming them. You just didn’t want him to be alone with them. You hope he gets sunburned in Cancun. And even that didn’t cover all the ways you want Scott to suffer, but most of all, you just want him out of your life. More importantly, you’re children.

——

“Uck Yan,” your brother slowly looks towards you, narrowing his eyes at the name Suede had bestowed on him. “Me tong. Me hut. Me otay!” He uses big hands and gestures to talk about what had happened, and you cuddle in closer to Andy. Your hand rubs over his chest, while his is just slightly below your ass, caressing you gently. You’re essentially in his lap anyways. The kids are cozy with Ryan. Your parents have already ventured to bed.

“I think that my sister has some brave kids on her hand, you, too, Audi,” she doesn’t smile, but shifts uncomfortably.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Suede shh,” she gets out of Ryan’s lap, and you nearly think she’ll come to you Andy, but instead she goes to the beanbags on the floor, and of course Suede follows. Sitting closer to the tv.

“Andy, I didn’t know if I would ever see you again. You’re still as gross as I remember. Except now you don’t scramble away from each other when someone comes into a room,” you roll your eyes, but cuddle even closer to Andy. He’s always so warm. “Has he attempted to call?” Ryan looks at your leg where Andy’s grip gets even tighter, and nods understanding. “Maybe he’s scared?”

“I don’t care if he is. It’s nothing compared to how your sister and his daughter felt,” his grip softens. You keep your eye on the kids, but they have no inclination on what you’re discussing now. You have your feelings towards Scott, but you weren’t going to push them on your babies. They’ll come to the conclusion all on their own.

“I know. I just…”

“You sound like Morgan,” you stop him. Morgan always defends Scott against you. Scott is always a saint. He is perfect and can do no wrong. But where was he when Suede passed out from lack of oxygen? Where was he when his song was turning blue?

“No,” Ryan answers softly. He scoots to the edge of the sofa, and stretches. “I just don’t always see things as black and white. And I like giving people the benefit of the doubt.”

“We did,” Ryan nods to Andy. He can tell in the tone of Andy’s voice that this isn’t something he could explain away. There is no discussion. You tried with Scott, long past when you should. Your children’s health is not something you’re going to be lenient with anymore. You came too close to losing Suede.

Scott probably does feel a tinge of guilt. And maybe he is scared because he was the parent in charge. He should be scared. Him and Taylor moved into that ugly house the same day you took the final box out of there. Suede was already running to the car, while Audrey hugged your neck as the two of you stared into the front door.

If you had it your way, the kids would never be back at this house. It didn’t feel like home. It never did. You left most of the furniture, dishes, whatever you felt Scott paid for with his money. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of holding that over your head. It just feels like a time capsule of some of the worst days of your life. But some of the best when you remember Andy building a fort with them for the first time, and it’s still a favorite pastime of theirs, now they have a bigger living room to build in. New and better memories will be created at the new home.

The kids don’t have to be afraid to bring their toys in there to play. Audrey didn’t do her ‘courtroom homework’. Suede could have his hands on everything in the house. He could make a mess, and you would assist him to clean it up. The difference in the behavior is shocking. The new house — home, your home. Your home brings so much rebirth. You all needed it.

Speaking of rebirth. “Guys, I think it’s time to go to bed. Are you sleeping in uncle Ryan’s room or…?”

“Uck Yan! Me seep Uck Yan!”

“Mommy, I don’t want to sleep on the top bunk.”

“It’s okay. You can sleep on the bottom with Suede. It’s big enough. Alright, stairs, and we’ll do our tucking in, and book for the night,” they both jolt up in a fit of giggles, and head towards the stairs a bit too speedy, but they quickly slow down when Andy clears his throat. You need to learn that trick. The ability to barely do anything, and they just listen is amazing.

“Don’t forget your teeth, and me and mommy will be up in just a minute,” swoon. You find yourself growing more and more in love with him. You keep waiting on the other shoe to drop, and he surprises you with an ugly side of him. You know how protective he is, to a fault really. You know he can be quick to anger in order to protect you. But you’ve never seen his negatives affect you.

He pulls you in for a bruising kiss. Something you’ve been missing all day. He’s trying to respect your parents’ house when they’re well aware that you and Andy have sex. That’s the only details that they need to know. You pull away, smiling at him. “I’ve got a present for you.”

“Do you?” His hands roam down your back before grabbing both ass cheeks, one in each hand. “I’ve got a surprise for you, too,” you doubt his present is quite like yours. Regardless of what the answer on the test is, you know Andy will be happy you are taking one. “Alright, let's get the munchkins tucked in, so we can pretend we’re teenagers, and I just snuck up to your widow,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you. Dipping his hands between your thighs.

“You dirty old man.”

“As long as I’m your dirty old man, I really don’t care,” with a chuckle, and excitement for what’s to come, you head up the stairs to get your littlest loves tucked in. Ready to have a full week off with your favorite people in the world. Even if you weren’t sure about spending time with your sister.

You stand with your hands behind your back as Andy emerges from the Jack and Jill bathroom connected to Morgan’s old room. He smirks, trying to lean around your body to see what you have, “You go first,” he tells you, stepping right in front of you, he places his hands on your hips, and starts swaying the two of you to music that isn’t even there.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go first?” You are losing your confidence, and it’s just a pee stick. You’ve used one with Andy before. This is nothing new. You have children. The unknown is terrifying you, “You go first.”

“You are ready with yours behind your back. Mine is in the suitcase. Go on. I feel you might not like mine,” well that’s concerning. Now your interest is piqued. Is it a sex toy? A gag? Is he trying to be gross in your childhood room? It wouldn’t be the first time. A lot of firsts happened on that bed. “Doe?”

You exhale quickly before pulling the test in front of your body. Andy only stares at the box with so many emotions running through his mind. Your mom didn’t cheap out, she got the one that said pregnant or not pregnant. But your fiance is saying nothing. “I’m not saying I am. I’m just saying I think it’s time because…”

“Because you haven’t had a period in two months. Because you’re horny, and your tits are super sensitive. Because you’re super sleepy. Because your pants are getting tighter,” two months? Really.

“You know my cycle?”

“You don’t want to have sex because you’re cramping the first couple days, and you don’t even want to snuggle. And then on day three you are crawling in my lap so whiny. Yeah, I kinda figured out your cycle. Not to mention, you just smell different,” you pout up at him. He is so fucking sweet. Adorably sweet. “It’s why I didn’t want you carrying heavy things. And you’re bound and determined to ignore my need for you to take a test.”

You wiggle the test at him, and he playfully rolls his eyes. “Well, go pee on the stick, and there’s no need for me to give you my surprise because it’s the exact same thing. I was going to make you test even if it meant holding you down,” he’s so dramatic. Too dramatic honestly.

You push his hands off your hips, and walk into the bathroom, attempting to close the door when he clears his throat, “Why?” Whining just because.

“Because it brings back old memories. Pee with the door open. It’s not like I haven’t seen you in this position before. And many other positions if I’m recalling correctly,” dirty old man is right. But you’d choose him again and again.

“Fine,” you groan as you check to make sure the bathroom door on the other side is locked for some reason. Walking into the toilet alcove, and you pray. You beg. You hope and wish that it says pregnant. Not just for Andy, but for you. Audrey. Suede. The want and need to fill up your home. To make Andy a biological father, he’s already a daddy. The reality that you can have kids, and that Scott was the main problem.

With a deep breath, you lay the test on the counter, and start washing your hands as Andy steps behind you. Staring at the test, while you giggle, “Babe, it takes time. It’s not instantaneous,” not that it would take long. But his excitement is cute.

“Doe,” there’s something in the sound of his voice that makes you glance down at the test, and you gasp. Frozen as you stare at the test. You really didn’t think it would say that, “Honey, why would it be that instant?”

“Umm…well, I’m,” you can’t even think properly. This whole time you made yourself believe you were the problem. It wasn’t just you. You see as plain as the ‘PREGNANT’ on the test. It’s hard to fully believe the words, but there it is. Plain as day. “Andy?”

“Oh, honey,” he pulls you into his body, while you sob the happiest of tears. It’s just overwhelming. How many years were you told your body was the problem? And if it wasn’t the problem, would you have had a third child with Scott? You haven’t been careful with Andy since day one. But you haven’t been as stressed. You’ve been happier. “Baby, I know. I know,” he coos into your ear. “There was never anything wrong with you.”

You made yourself believe this couldn’t happen again. The girl that carried around a baby doll when she was little, and she went everywhere with you because it was your daughter. All you wanted growing up was to become a mother, and you thought that it was stripped away from you. That the man you wanted to procreate with you could never give that to him. There was always a part of you that almost believed eventually Andy would leave you for someone who could give him that.

“We’re having a baby, Doe,” his hand inches down your body before cupping your stomach. “Our baby is in there. And Audi and Suede are going to be big sister and brother. Doe, this is our baby in here,” you can’t even fully process this. A fear that you go to the doctor, and it was a false positive creeps into your mind, while Andy kisses all over your head. Pulling you back to view your red and swollen eyes before he crashes his mouth into yours.

He lifts you up from your ass, and you wrap your legs around him. Returning his desperate kisses with your own hunger as he carries you to the bed. You have Andrew Stephen Barber’s baby inside of you. You wanted to destroy the hope that was lingering in your mind for the past month because you didn’t think this was possible for you. Denying all the signs of a pregnancy because you were sure you couldn't give him a baby.

But you fucking can. You are. He drops you to the bed, and starts to paw at your underwear. He throws them somewhere behind you, and you look towards the door, making sure it is locked before he yanks his shirt off, and you stare up at his beautiful chest. You were never a titty girl, but Andy made you that way. With still his pajama bottoms on, he rolls his hips in between your thighs, and your back arches up.

Andy fucked a baby in you. There’s too much clothes that separate you, and you're pulling and tugging on his pants and underwear. Getting them down just enough to expose his hardening cock, and you grip it tightly at the base. Stroking him gently. Feeling him turn to steel in your hand before guiding him to your entrance. You run his tip through your slick, letting him know your body is ready. In one single thrust, he pushes into your warmth, lighting your body on fire.

He lays a hand over your mouth, “Shh, baby,” he draws himself out of you so slowly, but charges back in. “Doe, you’re so fucking loud,” loud? You growl at him. He feels amazing. “Your parents’ bedroom is downstairs. Maybe I should go softer since I’ve already fucked a baby…” Andy swallows deeply. His eyes become glossy, and you shove his hand off him.

“Andy. Andy, talk to me.”

“I don’t want you to think I don’t love Audrey and Suede. I will adopt them tomorrow. I will always take care of them, and you, but — I’ve always wanted to experience pregnancy with you. And you’re giving me that.”

Pulling his face down to yours you kiss away all the stray tears before returning to his mouth, “You’re giving me that, too,” you trace your tongue over his lips achingly slowly. Ignoring when he parts his mouth. “You’ve always given me so much. And I’ll always give you just as much. And I can’t wait to be Mrs. Andy Barber.”

He moans as you drag your tongue over his teeth. He meets you with his wet muscle, and you whimper at the taste of his freshly brushed teeth. Massaging his tongue with your own as he ruts into you. He’s not as deep as he normally is, but he still commands your body. This isn’t fucking. It isn’t raw. It is pure. Purely making love, and showing your love through your bodies.

There isn’t even a ton of friction. Just the two of you soaking up each other’s love and emotions. All these years of wanting, waiting, wishing is now in your grasp. The plan that you and Andy created all those years ago is now right here with you. He even told you it isn’t going to change the way he feels about Audrey and Suede, and one day they will be his legally. You have no doubt about that. Not now with your coward sperm donor unable to call them. Facing the consequences of what he did. What he allowed to happen.

You don’t give that bastard anymore thoughts as Andy rolls himself all the way in, “I won’t hurt the baby, will I?” Giggling you shake your head no, realizing now why he’d held off fully settling himself in your warmth. “You promise me?”

“I promise you,” things change to a frenzy as Andy stabs into you. Quick, hard, and all the way in. Crashing his mouth into yours so your noises won’t echo throughout the house. You did it. You both did it. You have accomplished everything that you ever wanted with Andy. Now the rest is just going to be beautiful fulfillment.

From the strange and quiet little boy, to the cocky teenager that you saw right past his fake bravado, now to the confident, protective, fierce, and super sexy man that you have fallen completely into the depths of his soul. Everything about Andy you love. Everything about the two of you, you love.

You squeak as your body tightens up, and Andy swallows all of your strangled sighs and whimpers. Tasting your pleasure on his tongue like it’s a rare delicacy. Wrapping your legs around him, you wait. Wait for his cock to go rigid, and his balls tighten up. Wait for his sticky release to fill up your belly, and your slicked up walls pulse around him. Milking every drop of his seed, and you squeeze your legs around him. Holding him in place because this is right where he belongs.

“Doe,” he pants out. WIth his forehead pressed against yours, you take a ragged breath. Spent from the day of traveling, to these overwhelming feelings. The only thing that could make this better is if he were already your husband. “Babe, what are you doing?”

His need to use pet names always makes you feel so warm and fuzzy. Home. “I’m keeping you where I want you.”

“In your cunt?”

“Is that so wrong?” He chuckles, shaking his head no, and lays the two of you to the side, so he can pet around your face. “We’ve got a baby growing in there.”

“I know. I know! I’m going to take so much care of you. I don’t want you to worry about anything. Suede’s health is a priority. Stay at home. Spend the extra time with Suede, and rest easy knowing he won’t have an allergic reaction. Hell, home school Audrey if you want to. This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” Pressing a chaste kiss against his lips you nod.

“I’ll take care of us. I need all our babies safe,” Andy knows there’s some legal issues that will have to be dealt with. But he’ll worry about them later. At this moment, you’re his wife. Audrey and Suede are his children. And you just told him you’re pregnant with baby number three. “I love you.”

“I love you, Andy,” you sigh, starting to fall asleep.

“Rest. I’ll unlock the doors in a little bit,” exhaling deeply, your eyes flutter close, and you nod. He would take care of everything. He is your husband. All three kids are Andy’s. That’s the dream. The fantasy that will be a reality.

Suede sits in Andy’s lap, picking food off his plate to shove in his mouth, and Audrey leans against your body in between the two of you. You figured today would be a bit harder for her. Faces she hadn’t seen in forever, and already she asked if her daddy would FaceTime her.

Morgan keeps looking towards you or Andy, you’re unsure why. But everyone chatters, and eats the thanksgiving dinner. “Where’s the deviled eggs?” she asks, looking at your mom for approval.

“Honey, your nephew is highly allergic, and he’s had enough attacks lately,” that should be the end of the conversation, but of course the baby of the family would sigh. Ryan looks towards you rolling his eyes as he stuffs a bite of turkey in his mouth.

Everyone, including Cooper and Conner, Ryan’s teenage boys, haven’t said a word about the slightly altered meal. You didn’t even insist on it. Said that you or Andy could have Suede with you at all times, and would make sure he didn’t eat anything he shouldn’t. You helped your mom alter some of the foods so they’d be safe for him, but you never expected so many accommodations. You paid for and made each of the desserts and snacks that were safe for him. As a good parent should do.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you back here, Andy,” your mom visibly moves uncomfortably in her chair, looking towards Morgan. She is always the one that starts something. So you don’t believe her intentions are pure.

“I did. I always knew I’d be back,” he responds, and your father raises a glass in the air. “What country are you guys going to travel to next?” He attempts to change the subject, but Morgan cocks her brow.

“Ireland,” your father’s voice is so quick. Short, and almost a warning to his youngest child. Morgan is a spoiled brat that your parents coddled for far too long. And now that she’s an adult, they don’t know how to control her.

“I just thought when my sister made her vows to Scott they’d be married forever,” you bite your tongue. Giving a smile to Audrey who looks up at you. She thought today would be a safe day with talking about her dad with people she didn’t know that well.

“You know my daddy?”

“Of course, I know him,” the tone in her voice sickens you to your core. Audrey didn’t need this.

“Can you tell him to call me?” Your father clears his throat. You hope Morgan chokes on her drink of wine as she takes another sip. “He he he he he he he hasn’t called since since my bubba…”

“NaNa my daddy. Chess,” Suede interrupts. His clean hand rubs on Andy’s beard, and you see Andy go stiff. Ready to say something, but knowing this was yours to handle.

“No, the hell he’s not. That is Scott Huffman’s son,” with a quick kiss to Audrey’s head, you lean her towards Andy, and scoot your chair back, standing up at the table.

“Outside,” Morgan glares at you. Practically snarling when you say it again. “Outside, Morgan. If you want to speak to me like an adult that is fine, but you will not talk to my children like this. Let’s go,” Morgan’s chair scoots back, and you hear Ryan hoop before getting a smack to the back of his head from your mom.

You march to the backyard. While everything is more worn and old from the weather and years, not much back here has changed. You’re annoyed that this adult woman is involving your children in whatever her deal is. She can take whatever she has out on you, but not them. They’ve been through enough.

“What’s your problem?” Morgan shrugs, sitting on the porch swing, but you stay standing. Pacing around while you try and calm down. “We’ve had the most pleasant week.”

“You mean before I got here?”

“Yes! You have this undying need to hate me. And that’s fine, Morgan. I really don’t care. But when you involve my children who are going through enough right now, that’s where I draw a really big line.”

Your sister gives you an evil smirk before crossing her arms over her chest, “And whose fault is that?”

“Well, I don’t know what you mean. Do you mean the fact that Scott was a cheating piece of shit? Do you mean how he neglected my son, and he almost died? Do you mean how he is a pussy bitch and won’t call his kids?”

“Because he knows it’ll be an argument,” you shake your head no, starting to go back into the house. “No, it will be. He’ll call to talk to the kids, but you made it very clear you don’t want Suede around him. He can’t even get Audrey now. And you know she’s his pride and joy,” only for what she can do to make him look good. He didn’t love her like Andy did.

You aren’t sure where she’s getting her information, but that’s not entirely true. Scott could see his children, but he chooses not to, “I issued him with supervised visits only.”

“How is that fair?”

“How is it fair that my two year old son had fractures to his rib cage because I had to give him CPR? He’s two, Morgan. Do you remember that? Two years old. The unfairness is to my kids. I chose supervised visits, so I know that my son’s life won’t be in jeopardy. I don’t understand how you can’t comprehend that. You act like I am this evil witch, while Scott is so innocent.”

“You filed for divorce,” you squeeze the bridge of your nose. For someone in their late twenties, she’s acting like a child. “You had him, and you filed for divorce.”

“And what would you have done if you walked in on your husband being fucked by the babysitter? One that he’s still currently with.”

“You weren’t having sex with him. Everyone knows that if you don’t give it up, they’ll find it somewhere else,” you stare at her dumbfounded. There is no reason to even bring up your postpartum depression, or the fact that your son had multiple health problems. The fact that you and Scott had grown distant. Honestly, you should have filed for divorce before you caught him cheating.

“You’re an idiot. Just don’t say anything to my children. And don’t bring up Scott.”

“Why?” She’s utterly ridiculous. “Because it’ll upset little Andy? You had it all. The perfect husband, home, kids, and life, and you don’t even realize it. You didn’t love him the way he deserved.”

“Don’t bring up Scott because it upsets my daughter! And I never had any of that with him. I have that now,” Morgan rolls her eyes, and stands up abruptly. Squaring up with you. You know exactly where Audrey gets her size from. Your sister is tiny. “If you think he’s so grand,” no you won’t say it. Whatever this is between you and Morgan, she still deserves better than Scott is offering. And how awkward would family dinners be then?

“I tried,” you step away from her. “I had him,” no she didn’t. She was about to start college when you and Scott started to date. “But he had found someone that he loved so much, and he couldn’t wait for me to graduate anymore. He needed a respectable wife if he wanted in a decent firm.”

“What are you saying?” Lies. A bunch of fucking lies.

“I had Scott first. We met when he did a lecture at college. I am the one that went to law school. The one that deserves him,” oh god, you’re going to be sick. Scott was perving on college girls while you were dating. Not just any college girls, but your sister. You can’t process this. “You took him from me, just like everything else. And now you’re with someone you loved more anyways. Couldn’t wait on Andy? Is he with you for pity now?”

“Do not speak to my children the way that you did ever again. Audrey has cried for her dad. I text him, and he doesn’t respond. I call and leave voicemails, and he doesn’t respond. I have tried and tried to be the bigger person for them, but I can’t force Scott to be a decent father. Whatever happened between you and him is in the past. I don’t care. I’m the one that has children with him, so I will always have to deal with him in some way.”

“Why doesn’t Andy just adopt them?”

“You’re the lawyer, Morgan. You tell me how easy it is for people to adopt children. That’s the plan, eventually. You know. I don’t need this stress right now,” Morgan perks up a moment. Her eyes flash to your stomach that you have kept a hand on the whole conversation. “I want a divorce. I want to marry Andy. I want my kids to be happy. I don’t care about Scott. Maybe you should ask him how he’s enjoying Cancun with his girlfriend. I’m done with him. I’m done with you. I’m done with this conversation.”

You don’t care what she has to say anymore. You can’t care. You have never been happier than this week. It wasn’t about being back home. No, home is wherever your family is. Andy and the kids are your family. Learning you were growing your family by another tiny little baby made everything better. And after the doctor’s appointment, you’d tell the kids.

Morgan wasn’t going to ruin anything. Whatever. You didn’t like it, but what were you to do? If she is still hung up on that man all these years later, what could you do? How is it your problem when you didn’t know about it? And you started talking to Scott before she was even in college, so her math is incorrect. No, you didn’t introduce him to your family, but your family is sacred. He never deserved to meet them.

“Mommy,” Audrey waits for you at the edge of the table. Your dad’s hand family falls off her belly, and she rushes towards you. You pull her up, and settle her on your hip, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, princess, everything is okay, and everything will be okay.”

“After dinner can we try daddy again?” Fuck Scott for being a coward, and leaving you to pick up everything. Fuck Morgan for brining Scott up again. More than likely he won’t answer the call. Selfish man can’t even tell his kids happy thanksgiving.

“We can,” you kiss her temple. Side eyeing Morgan as she walks back into the house.

“If he doesn’t answer, it’s okay,” you hope Morgan hears how a five year old is more mature than she is. That she understands that your child misses her father, even if he can callously ignore her. He can forget everything that happened at her birthday party, but she still has nightmares. You hope Morgan sees how Audrey’s always checking to see if Suede is breathing okay, and apologizing for not noticing him that day.

Scott and Taylor ruined her birthday because of their negligence. She will never be the same. That is a moment that will haunt everyone, including her. You just hate that you couldn’t split yourself in two and comfort her as well.

“Can we FaceTime Uncle Ann?” You sit beside your Andy, Suede already leaning back in his lap, patting his extended belly with a food covered smile. You keep Audrey in your lap, so you can share pie, and Andy places an arm around your back. He pulls you in for a quick kiss to your temple. You keep your chin up. She won’t ruin your day.

Morgan is jealous of a life you didn’t have with Scott. She can have it. Instead you’re going to wrap yourself in warmth and love with your family. A family of five. And when you return home, you’re going to give your family the best Christmas ever. Decorated beautifully, and giving your future husband what he’s always wanted. Traditions.

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy

@hisredheadedgoddess28 @capswife

#two good reasons #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #andy barber smut #andy barber fic #andy barber fics #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fanfic #andy barber fanfics #chris evans #chris evans character #defending jacob

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the-californicationist · 2 days ago

Note

I need like sweet, domestic Alex like coming home from deployment or something and reader doting on him (per our recent discussion, does she give him a nice massage bc of his poor aching leg) before he's just so desperate and pent up he goes full filthy down bad for his sweet thing at home. disrespect me alex please, then go right back to snuggles i BEG

Pingu… lol bestie. Idk what happened. Something something “disrespect me alex keller”… um…

TW: throat fucking, degradation, slut shaming, gender neutral reader, pet names: baby, babydoll, pretty thing

— MDNI —

Three Wishes

—

When his deployment ended, Alex Keller told you he had three wishes: a greasy cheeseburger, a deep tissue massage, and your pretty mouth on his cock. He was working on the burger as you watched him, busying yourself by kneading his quad muscles with your hands. You were staring as the blue glow from the TV danced across his tired face, bathing him in a desaturated light. Your palms and fingers worked their way along his sore thighs, rubbing them with his trusty Biofreeze pain gel, trying to ease his strained limbs.

The prosthetic he wore for work lay discarded in the corner, still caked with sand and mud and memories of a grueling tour. If his return home was anything like his last, he’d leave it there for weeks, seemingly out of spite, much preferring to use his forearm cane to semi-gracefully amble from the couch to the kitchen to the bed and back again, moving more like an acrobat than a soldier, leaning and pulling on countertops and reinforced handles to make his way around his home. It never stopped surprising you with how quickly he could cross a room without any walking aids at all, much preferring to use his body without the augmentations.

You’d been there for him when he lost the leg. At the time, you and his mom had been way more concerned about blood clots from the injury rather than the amputation itself. It wasn’t until he was about to be discharged and you were left with an endless stream of leg-limb-cane-chair options that made your head spin. But, Alex didn’t seem to mind. He had turned his nose up at the chair, immediately deciding that if he wasn’t walking out of there on his own, he didn’t want to walk out of there at all. The doctors all hemmed and hawed, but you and Mrs. Keller stood firm. You supported him, and he made it through with flying colors.

When they’d welcomed him back to SAC, you were shocked. You’d expected him to get his Purple Heart and be left out in the cold. Since when had Uncle Sam ever wanted to put his “broken” toys back on the playing field? Hell, most veterans had to jump through more hoops than a circus poodle just to get baseline healthcare. But, Alex wouldn’t be denied. He was too good, and he made sure no one ever considered anything about him as broken. In fact, his recovery had given him extra time at the range, in the gym, and in the tactical office, honing his skills to a razor-fine edge. Alex was twice the soldier now, and you were proud of how far he’d come.

But, that didn’t mean it was easy. His work took a toll on his body, more so than his squadmates’. He’d be in pain for weeks, and you’d watch his face twist and bend in agony. It almost felt like he would only get back to normal right before it was time to deploy again. But, that was the price he paid. He kept the world safe, and he used himself as the shield, protecting you and everyone else from unimaginable evils.

You loved watching him tear into this messy burger. The juice and sauce was dripping down his hands, and there was a smear of something warm and gooey trapped in the corner of his mouth and his overgrown mustache, ready for a long tongue to swipe it away. Still, you waited patiently for him to finish. You were just as eager for the third wish as he was, judging by the obvious erection straining against his gym shorts.

Pausing your ministrations, you cleared his food away and washed your hands. You made your way back over to the couch and knelt between his legs,

“Mm, goddamn,” Alex sighed, wiping his mouth and hands with the napkin as he finished off his meal, “That hit the fuckin’ spot.”

“You ready for your last wish to come true, Lex?” You purred, digging your hands into the band of his shorts and peeling them down over his throbbing erection.

“You’re too good to me, baby,” his voice deepened as he watched you reveal his length, bending over him to suckle the shining precome from his head, “Mmf-fuck! I love comin’ home.”

You tried to take more of him, but he was impossibly hard, and your throat protested against his invasion. Gagging yourself, you choked, pulling away to catch a breath before going right back to suckle his cock.

“Tha’s it. Lemme help you, babydoll,” Alex purred, placing a firm palm on your head and shoving you down onto him, working you past your deepest point, showing you how much further you could go with his help.

“I dreamt of this fuckin’ moment,” he confessed, “This exact one. The one with your mouth full of me like this, droolin’ on me like this, suckin’ me like this… holy fuck!”

In a flash, both of his hands were on your head, shoving you down so much further onto his hard length, making your throat ache and burn.

You loved it, feeling your own pleasure building between your legs. His roughness made your mind go blank; you melted into his dumb little slut, shamelessly humping into your own hand as your brain begged for breath.

A hard fist pulled you off of him, and you gasped, rasping and wet, your shining drool swirling and pooling from your mouth, raining down onto his red, swollen prick.

“There you are,” Alex smiled, “Eyes on me, baby. Don’t look away.”

As he lowered you back onto his hard length, you obeyed, gazing up at him despite your audible struggling, the pressure and tightness in your throat making you want to wrench your eyes shut. But you didn’t. You were a good hole for him; you’d show him how much you missed him.

He moved your head up and down without your help. You were just along for the ride, breathing when you could, coughing and jerking when your body struggled to obey.

“This mouth… holy hell. Gonna make me come, baby.” Then, he noticed your hand writhing beneath you, playing with yourself as you sucked him off, “You touchin’ yourself? Oh, fuck. Fuck, that’s hot.”

He began to fuck your throat in earnest, picking up his pace, leaning his head back on the couch in ecstasy. You reached up with your free hand and lifted your shirt over your chest, pinching and plucking at your nipples, edging yourself right up to an orgasm, ignoring how lurid the gurgling noises that your throat was making sounded in the quiet living room.

“You better get that filthy hole ready for me, babydoll. Your mouth is so damn good, but this load isn’t goin’ in your tummy,” he saw your eyes widen and he chuckled, “Nuh-uh. I am gonna fuck you until you’re too hoarse to scream my name.”

You couldn’t help but moan, your eyes flashing white, rolling back into your head.

“Hey!” That same tight fist shook you at your nape, shocking you back into submission, “Give me those eyes, baby. Such a pretty little slut. So good for me.”

Then, he rewarded you by holding you down to his base, scooting to the edge of the couch so that he could shove his cock all the way down your neck, using his free hand to rub your throat on the outside, squeezing the sides to feel himself as he filled your writhing, choking body.

“Does my baby want to breathe? Givin’ up already?”

You tried to shake your head no, looking at him with tears rolling down your cheeks. You were no quitter. You’d black the fuck out before you let him think you needed mercy.

“No?” He seemed pleased, moaning as he grinded himself deep inside of you, moving your face back and forth to steep himself in his optimal pleasure, giving you brief gasps of sloppy air as he did. “So proud of you, baby. Doin’ so well. Now… Swallow me, babydoll. Mmf-fuck! Yeah, just like that. Holy fuck.”

You swallowed around him, closing your throat across his cockhead over and over, feeling the soft fleshy tip squish and squeeze in the bottom of your throat, twitching at the root of your tongue. You tried to find a rhythm, swallowing in pulsating waves. Above you, Alex was coming undone, trembling and growling like an animal, barely hanging onto his sanity.

Suddenly, he ripped himself out of you in a wet, messy stroke. You leaned into his grip, lolling out your tongue, knowing that he had lost at his own edging game. Sure enough, he began to spray hot, sticky ropes of come across your nose and mouth, covering your face in his orgasm, coating you in his mark.

He was shouting loud enough to fill the room, and he just kept coming, his body twisting and bending in mindless sexual fury. You leaned forward to seal your mouth over his head, milking him of his heavy load, sucking down his essence like it would sustain you.

“Oh, fuck!” He lamented, watching you clean his dick with your tongue, wearing his cream like a badge of honor, “C’mere, baby. Open wide.”

You opened your mouth up for him, sticking your messy tongue out as far as it would go. He grabbed your chin and began to use his other hand to swipe his load into your lips, smearing his come down your nose and across your cheeks to scoop it onto your tongue, making sure you didn’t waste a drop.

You remained stock still, feeling his seed slipping down your throat and into your belly, but you kept your tongue out, showing him you were still his obedient cockslut.

“I hope you’re ready for me, baby, ‘cause I’m still hard. Did you get that hole nice and warm for me?”

“Yes, sir,” you smiled, pleased to play your part.

“Show me,” he smiled back - all devil, no angel.

You did as you were told, turning around, leaning your chest to the ground, and peeling your underwear down your thighs to show him his prize.

His hand spread your ass cheeks apart, and you felt him spit across your flesh, chuckling with an exciting cruelty as he spread his spit around with his thumb,

“Oh, fuck. There it is. I’m gonna pump you so full of come you’ll be drippin’ for days and days and days...”

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod #cod mwii #alex keller #alex keller smut #cod smut #disability won’t fuckin stop me #degrade me alex keller #degrade and humiliate me #degrading k1nk #degredation kink #face fvcking

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ifwbillie · 1 day ago

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there for you (comfort) | b.e x fem!reader

a/n. feeling off so i wrote it and decided to post. thats TOTALLY how i feel. and english is NOT my first language so im really sorry for any mistakes. hope you like it tho ;))

you’re sitting on your bed, wrapped in the blanket like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart. your phone’s lying there, face down, but you know what’s on the screen. billie’s name lights up again, multiple missed calls and messages flooding in. a mixture of worry, love, and longing—her trying to reach out, trying to break through the silence. but it feels too heavy. everything’s too much. like you’re trapped in your own head, the weight of your thoughts suffocating you. you can’t bring yourself to respond to anyone, even her, even though you want to. it just feels like it’s all too much to carry right now. too exhausting to even type a single word.

billie’s been running around with interviews and work, barely a moment for herself. but every second she’s got, she’s pulling her phone out, checking, hoping, wishing for something—anything from you. she knows you need space, knows you pull away when it gets too hard, but the silence is driving her crazy. she can’t sit with it anymore. not with you feeling like this. she’s been wondering if you’re okay, hoping you’ll reach out, but when you don’t, the worry begins to settle in, heavy on her chest. she has to see you. she has to be there.

so, when her last interview wraps up, she’s out the door faster than anyone realizes. she doesn’t even wait. her mind is racing, her heart pounding with the need to be close to you. she gets in her car, driving fast, her hands gripping the wheel tightly as she fights to ignore the way her pulse quickens with every passing second. her thoughts are focused on one thing only—getting to you.

when she arrives at your place, she stands there for a moment, taking a deep breath. she’s not sure what to expect, but she knows you need her right now. she knocks softly on the door, her knuckles gentle against the wood. there’s a long pause, a beat where she wonders if you’ll even answer, but then the door creaks open. and there you are.

you look… broken. eyes red, shoulders slumped, the kind of tiredness that’s more than physical. it’s the kind of exhaustion that seeps into your soul, the kind that makes everything feel like too much. billie doesn’t hesitate. she steps inside, immediately closing the door behind her, and without saying a word, she wraps her arms around you, holding you tight. at first, you’re stiff, like you’re not sure what to do, but slowly, the tension in your body starts to melt. you can feel her warmth, her steadiness, and for the first time in days, you let yourself relax. she doesn’t ask questions. she doesn’t try to fix anything. she just holds you, like she’s trying to take on all the pain that’s weighing you down.

she guides you to the couch, both of you sinking into the cushions. you sit close, and she doesn’t let go of your hand. instead, her fingers trace soft, slow circles on your palm, a grounding rhythm that’s meant to comfort. there’s no rush. no pressure to talk. she’s here, and that’s enough. she’s not going anywhere.

it’s you who breaks the silence first, your voice barely above a whisper. “i… i feel like i’m never enough, billie. like no matter what i do, i’ll always fall. i didn’t want to bother you with all of this… i just feel so tired of everything. i just want to disappear. i feel like nothing will ever be okay again.”

her hand tightens around yours, her grip steady and reassuring. her eyes soften, her face filled with compassion. “babe, you’re never a bother. never. do you hear me? i’m here because i love you. because you matter to me. i want to be here for you, all of you, not just the easy parts. i know it’s hard, but i promise you, you’re not alone in this. you don’t have to hide from me. you don’t have to be quiet. i’m here to listen, and i won’t leave you.”

she leans in, her voice gentle but filled with the weight of her words. “you don’t have to keep it all inside, okay? you don’t have to carry it all on your own. let me in, hm? let me see everything you’ve been hiding. i want to help. i want to show you that you don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

you feel the tears start to well up, the weight of everything pressing harder. you try to hold them back, but it’s impossible. one tear slips down your cheek, and you quickly try to wipe it away, embarrassed. but billie’s there, reaching up to gently brush it away, her touch soft and soothing.

“hey, it’s okay,” she whispers. “you don’t have to hide from me, not from me. i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere. you’re safe with me, always.” she pauses for a moment, her hand brushing a stray tear from your cheek before continuing, her words soft but full of warmth. “it’s okay to be vulnerable, babe. i’ll never judge you or use it against you. i’m here to stay, and you don’t have to carry this on your own.”

you lean into her shoulder, your chest tightening as you finally let the flood of emotions out. “i just didn’t want you to see me like this. i didn’t want to be this weak.”

billie’s voice is soft but firm as she says, “then let me see all of you, sweetheart. let me see you—the strong and the broken, the happy and the sad. i want to be with you through it all. i’m not going anywhere. i’m not leaving, never. you’re stuck with me forever”

she holds you close, her warmth surrounding you, and slowly, the feeling of being overwhelmed starts to fade. she’s there, and that’s enough to make everything feel just a little more bearable.

as the evening wears on, you start to feel the exhaustion take over. you’re drained, emotionally and physically. billie watches you closely, sensing it before you even say a word. “hey, angel,” she murmurs. “you need rest. come on, close your eyes. let me help you, okay?”

she shifts so she’s lying beside you, keeping her arms around you as you close your eyes. “i’m not going anywhere until i see you resting. just sleep, love. i’m here. i’m right here.”

with billie’s comforting words surrounding you, you finally drift off to sleep, her hand still gently resting over yours, her presence a steady reminder that you’re never alone. as you sleep, billie stays close, watching over you until the steady rhythm of your breath tells her you’re resting peacefully.

“i love you,” she whispers softly as she watches you. and then, without hesitation, she leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “i’m here, always,” she murmurs.

#billie eilish #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish comfort #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish fluffy #billie eilish reassuring

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thesmokingguns · 2 days ago

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Present w/ Izzy Stradlin

Minors DNI 18+ Adult themes w/ female oral '

“Spread your legs for me. That’s my good girl.” Izzy slid between my thighs, his dark hair sliding over my thighs.

A hum of appreciation left his lips as his thumb ran over the red lace of my panties. I had been trying to surprise him as a sexy Santa but as soon as he saw me in the white fur trimmed babydoll he was picking me up and headed to our bedroom.

The soft white glow of Christmas lights illuminated us and I thought about how our shadows from the light strands is my favorite Christmas decoration.

“So wet for me already, sweetheart.” His thumb slips into the mouth, tasting the wetness that had soaked through the thin material I was wearing, “Mhhh, aren’t you just the tastiest holiday treat?”

It’s borderline obscene how i sounds when his thumb comes out of his mouth and I gulp, reaching down to lace my fingers in his hair. Tugging, I try to guide him to where I want him. But Izzy turns his head, teeth biting into my thigh.

It’s hard enough that a hiss of pain comes out from my mouth and I can’t wait to see the way it looks bruised tomorrow.

“Don’t make me put you on the naughty list, sweetheart. Not after you worked so hard this year being my good girl. Are you really going to throw it away because you’re being impatient now?” The slow tease in his words, making me wait for him to finish speaking.

He knows exactly what game he is playing. Izzy knows how to drive me wild and press every single one of my buttons. He excels at it and I wish he wasn’t so good at it.

“Izzy,” His eyes sparkle and all I can think about is he’s a brat, “don’t make me wait anymore. I want you. You can see how bad I want you.”

His eyes slide down to my pussy, making a sound of agreement as he looks at the obvious need that I have for him.

“This is all for me.” His fingers hook into my panties, pulling them off and tossing them over his shoulder without looking to see where they land, “I’m ready to have my Christmas treat now.”

Before I can even tell him how he is being an absolute idiot, his tongue slides over my slick pussy lips.

A hand comes up, pulling my lips apart as the wet sound of them opening makes Izzy groan, right against where his mouth is hovering over my clit. On instinct, my hips rise searching for more of the pleasure that he is giving me.

The weight of his palm on my stomach pushes me down. Holding me against the mattress as his mouth presses harder against my pussy.

Izzy’s tongue slips over my clit. Licking up and down, flickering over my clit as my knees turn inward to hold his head exactly where I want it to be. My head tilts backwards and his lips hum over my clit. The fingers that were holding my folds apart slip away. A moment later, two fingers press into my core, stretching me as the length of his fingers work me.

It’s not a languid movement.

No.

Izzy knows what he wants from me and my body wants to give it to him.

In and out his fingers press against my walls in a near frantic pace. The tips brushing against that spot inside of me that makes my toes curl as the orgasm I want to give into fills my stomach.

He wants to be soaked in me and is working hard to achieve just that.

A flick of his tongue goes against my clit before his teeth nip at it, shocking me as I try to lift up off the bed. It’s in that moment that I give up on holding back.

The pressure from his hand on my stomach, his fingers inside me, and his mouth on the clit s the holy trinity churches area always preaching about. I give in to whatever religion he is trying to sell me as my body gives in.

I squirt, the wetness making him groan in desire as he keeps his fingers going and his mouth, messy with my come, keeps working at my clit. Licking at it like he wants to get all of me all over his tongue.

“IZZY!” It’s took much. I feel like my soul has already left my body and the sensitive ache in my pussy is making it hard to keep still. “PLEASE!” He pulls his head up, looking up at me dazed.

His fingers are still in my body. They go from that heavy pace to a softer, push and pull as my walls clench around him. With his mouth off my clit I can breathe again and use the opportunity to take several deep breaths.

He leans his head down, kissing over my stomach. Soft gentle motions like he didn’t just yank my soul out through my pussy.

“So good for me, sweetheart. Let me have another taste of you and then you can have a break. Okay? Let me just lick you up and have my fill of you. You are the one who wrapped yourself up like a pretty present and now I want to play with you. Just relax. Settle down. The nights young.” I whimper and his eyes look at mine.

Izzy’s mouth is all wet from my come. Glistening in the lights that I had asked him to help me hang a couple weeks before. He looks like a fantasy in his position and if I wasn’t so pleasure drunk and sensitive I would appreciate it more.

“If you can’t lay still, I’ll tie you up like a present again. I’ll make such pretty bows on your hands and ankles. You’ll look good enough to be put under the tree.” I swallow hard and know he is serious.

But I know I can’t sit still.

“Get the ropes.”

#izzy stradlin fanfiction #izzy stradlin fan fiction #izzy stradlin fanfic #izzy stradlin #guns n roses #izzy stradlin fan fic #izzy stradlin imagine #izzy stradlin x reader

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1toreyouapart · 19 hours ago

Text

What It Cost

****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***

Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.

Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now he’s back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?

CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). All smutty warnings happen later on, so I’ll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!

A/N: Links are still wonky right now. Will be fixed when they stop being a pain

11-Noah

Everyone's chatter and laughter in the living room drowned out the doubts circling in his head. What if he wasn't able to fix what he had broken? Or what if she just told him to fuck off and leave her alone? Was he even capable of being a better person? Or was he always going to keep making the same mistakes?

Shaking his head as though to shake off the thoughts he picked up Lily's water, the entire reason he was even in the kitchen, and headed back for the living room. Sometimes his brain could be a real bitch. Here he had everything he could want, well, almost everything, and his brain was going crazy on him. Everyone was together again, Lily was spending more and time there and with him in general. But yet those old worries were back and wearing a new face.

Slightly annoyed he dropped back down in front of her, passing the glass of water up to her. Her free hand lightly scratched his scalp in thanks and he had to fight the urge to just lay his head in her lap. He was grateful, thrilled even, that there was a group hangout happening again. But he wished like hell that it was just the two of them. Everything made more sense when it was just them.

The other day they had quite literally spent the entire day laying in his bed binge watching Supernatural, her favorite show. For hours they had laid there, talking, laughing, only untangling themselves from each other when necessary. Everything had made perfect sense then. But now? Surrounded by all their friends? Where he couldn't hold her and kiss her like he wanted? He had to settle for sitting near her or at her feet so that Sadie, who sat happily perched in Jolly's lap, didn't freak out and start asking questions. Questions neither of them knew the answer to.

"Noah?" Lily's voice cut through the noise in his head. "Why don't we trade spots? You've been on the floor all afternoon."

"Nope. You getting hungry?" He asked, avoiding the real question. She'd picked up on his tension. Damn it.

"I'm okay." She answered simply before getting up off the couch. "You're obviously uncomfortable. Get up there."

"No. I'm fine. You sit there."

Lily simply rolled her eyes, passing her water off to Sadie who watched them, eyebrow raised. Great. Just what he needed. Now Sadie would be on a mission to corner him and drill him about everything. And judging by the look she was currently giving Lily, her too.

She stepped between his legs, forcing them open to make space for her as she sat down, her back against his chest. Sadie passed the water back to her, shooting him a pointed look. All he could do was nod his head towards her and let Lily settle into him. So much for avoiding the questions.

Her hand rested on his thigh, squeezing. A small comfort in the battle being waged inside his head. All he wanted was for everything to be exactly as it had been. To be able to hold her the exact way he had before. To not care who was watching. Lily shifted, twisting and lifting herself to whisper in his ear.

"You're tense. Are you okay?"

All he could do was nod, not daring to say anything. What would he say? That he was terrified of fucking whatever this was up? Or that he wanted everyone to go away so that it was just the two of them?

“You’re a terrible liar,” she whispered, settling back into her spot.

Lilith’s hand slowly traveled over to his where she began lightly tracing the tattoos there. Something she had done any time he was anxious before. It gave him something to focus on rather than the thoughts swirling in his head. Slowly the raving thoughts stopped and his body started to relax, his breathing beginning to slow. Just as slowly as she had traced the artwork on his hand she slid her hand under his, palm up, and intertwined her fingers with his.

“You two are awfully cozy,” Sadie quipped. Though there was no malice in her voice. Instead her gaze was soft as she watched them.

“We’ve decided we can be friends.” Lilith shrugged against him, her voice calm and even.

“Babe, their business is their own,” Jolly interjected.

“I know. I’m not saying anything bad. Just an observation.”

Sadie’s eyes landed on his, and while she seemed pleased, there was a silent warning hidden there. One that said don’t fuck up again.

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #angst #noah sebastian angst #noah sebastian fic #fluff #noah sebastian fluff

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mins-fins · 2 days ago

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i killed you — [ lee jeno — 엔시티. ]

and you're possibly on the verge of death, humbling, painstakingly slow death (well not really, you're simply overdramatic) | now playing ౨ৎ

"hello? cadet seventy four? do you read?"

fuck the control panel for being built high up, you have to lug yourself upward to even attempt a hand on top of the buttons. fortunately, you memorized the placements of specific buttons, levers, and sensors just in case you or other members of the crew suddenly went blind, had an accident or..

whatever the fuck just happened to you just now.

your palm smashes against the communication button, and your intake of breath is in tandem with an increase of pain in your chest. "yes yes, my apologies i'm simply—"

"are you alright?"

lord you wish you were. only one very person on this spacecraft requires adequate medical training and they are currently not having the best time, possibly rendered unconscious by the prior events which had unfolded. you cough, hopelessness foreshadowed. "i'm having some trouble! huang is unconscious!"

"huang is wha— how did that even happen!?"

"it was a critical situation that i took care of okay!? jesus i think i broke something.."

help is useless when communication is all on earth, you switch off communication and slump forward as your limbs give in, possibly fracturing something else in the process.

"ow.." you mumble, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.

if you were to die, you could at least have died in a much more delicate manner. you should have passed in your sleep, peacefully, on the cusp of a beautiful dream about the stars, not on the floor of a spacecraft which you worked several years towards just to be thwarted by some otherworldly thing that attempted to take out your teammate.

well, not everybody gets what they desire.

"hey, get up".

"ow ow ow, hey! you're going to get fined if you break my bones!" you whine, despite a guardian angel being bestowed upon you, arms wrapping around you as your lifted in a typical bridal fashion. you curse silently, still on the peak of sobbing.

"you'll be fine.." your saving grace, lee jeno mutters, as if you can do anything but cry at your circumstances.

"jeno i'm gonna die" you allow yourself the pleasure of complete sadness, tears streaming down your cheeks as you whine endlessly about your mother and how you won't be seen for proceeding months because you're in space meaning it'll be so uncomfortable having to exist around a corpse.

"no you aren't".

"yes i am!" your hands are thrown up into the air, sobs clinging to your throat, hiccuping incessantly. "they're gonna tell my mom late and my funeral's gonna be terrible cause we'll get back home late!"

jeno sighs, swiping a tear with his thumb. "shh, it's alright, i'm here".

you let your tears stain his shirt, emotions encapsulating you over dramatically. when he finally does lay you down, you reach out for him, fingers slipping from his yet continuing to cling. jeno is only aware of the basics when it comes to medical care. "what about injunie?"

"hyuck has got that taken care of".

"is he not—"

"he's okay y/n" jeno reassures, his tranquility offering you a glimpse of solace in such a situation where it feels each bone is protruding from its kept place. "you need to relax" he rubs at your wrist, and you reach out to hold his hand, aware the gesture will bring you the consolation you need in this situation.

you take a deep breath, utterly useless currently. "i totally derailed us didn't i?"

and you aren't the captain, your authority naught, but the.. mess that just so happened to end in this situation came with consequences, even if you did defeat a certain undiscovered foe. "not by much, the journey won't change much".

"i did the right thing, right? i didn't just alter the mission?"

"fuck the mission" jeno states, a batch of words you'd never expect from such a stoic captain who prioritized the craft and earning his spot as an actual astronaut more than anything. there appeared to be a gleam of something different in his eyes this time, a strange sense of devotion. "god just— it's a miracle you two lived you shouldn't have done that by yourself".

"but i succeeded, wasn't it great?"

he scrunches his nose. "sure".

you pout, clutching to his hand as if he'll slip away at any moment, carried away by the wind the minute you allow for your intertwined fingers separate. "stay?"

you've never been one to beg, you suppose he could give you credence for now, the situation calls for it.

his hold on your hand tightens, and he nods as he presses your foreheads together. "of course".

#lee jeno #jeno #nct #nct dream #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream scenarios #jeno imagines #jeno drabbles #jeno scenarios #lee jeno x reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!#obsessed with chromakopia rn 😓

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uhroras · 3 days ago

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— sentence starters : labyrinth, 1986. content warnings : violence & death mention

"oh it's not fair!”

“well don't stand there in the rain, come on.”

“she treats me like a wicked stepmother in a fairy story no matter what i say.”

"there's nothing to talk about."

"someone save me, someone take me away from this awful place!"

"say your right words."

"goblin king, goblin king, wherever you may be, take this child of mine far away from me!!"

"what is all that rubbish, it doesn't even start with 'i wish' "

"i wish i did know what to say to make the goblins take you away"

"i wish the goblins would come and take you away. right now."

"what's said is said."

"please bring him back, please."

"it's a crystal, nothing more. but if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams."

"it isn't that i don't appreciate what you're trying to do for me but..."

"don't defy me."

"it's further than you think, time is short."

"excuse me, but i have to get through this labyrinth, can you help me?"

"well, what did you expect fairies to do?"

"do you know where the door to the labyrinth is?"

"how do i get into the labyrinth?"

"if that's all the help your gonna be, you can just leave."

"you know your problem? you take too many things for granted. take this labyrinth, even if you get to the center, you'll never get out again."

"you remind me of the babe."

"what kind of magic spell to use?"

"what a horrible place this is."

"she should not have gotten as far as the oubliette."

"she'll have to start all over again."

"i came to give you a hand."

"this is an oubliette, the labyrinth's full of them."

"oh don't sound so smart."

"if i thought for one second that you're betraying me, i'd be forced to suspend you head first in the bog of eternal stentch."

"how are you enjoying my labyrinth?"

"how about upping the stakes, hmm?"

"you say that so often, i wonder what your basis for comparison is?"

"how can i trust you?"

"well, let me put it this way, what choice have you got?"

"i said i didn't promise nothing, i said i would take you as far as i could go."

"please, can you tell......that is, i have to get to the castle at the center of the labyrinth, do you know the way?"

"the way forward, is sometimes the way back."

"you may not be much of a friend, but you're the only friend i got in this place."

"well i'm not afraid, things aren't always what they seem in this place."

"is that anyway to treat someone who is trying to help you?"

"which should we choose out of these two ugly characters?"

"i see...for one moment i thought you were running to help her, but, uh, no, not after my warnings, that would be stupid."

"i just noticed your lovely jewels are missing."

"oh, what did you have to go and do a thing like that for?"

"so much trouble over such a little thing."

"there's such a sad love, deep in your eyes."

"i'll place the sky within your eyes."

"as the pain sweeps through, makes no sense for you. every thrill is gone, wasn't too much fun at all."

"i'll be there for you - as the world falls down."

"we're choosing the path between the stars."

"i'll leave my love between the stars."

"you can't look where you're going if you don't know where you're going."

"i shall fight you all to the death."

"i don't see why we have to be so quiet....it's only a goblin city."

"im not asking to be to forgiven, i ain't ashamed of nothing i did."

"they got through the gates, and they're on their way to the castle."

"i've had enough, i'm going to bed."

"how you turn my world you precious thing."

"you starve and near exhaust me."

"everything i've done, i've done for you."

"i move the stars for no one."

"your eyes can be so cruel."

"i have been generous up until now, but i can be cruel."

"let me rule you, and you can have everything you want."

"just fear me, love me, do as i say and i will be your slave."

"my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great. you have no power over me."

#sentence starters #ask meme #rp memes #rp prompts #rp starters #fairytale sentence starters #labyrinth rp

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kentochronicles · 2 days ago

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A Blade Between Us

Suguru Geto x Reader

Genre: Angst

A/N: It’s my birthday, so here’s a little birthday post!! Thank you to @empower-bi-women and @imm0rtalbutterfly for beta reading for me, it means a lot!! Enjoy lovelies and as always likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🩵

The rain was relentless, but Suguru didn’t mind. It dulled the noise in his head, a constant reminder of everything he’d lost. He stood alone on the empty street, watching droplets streak down from the grey sky, washing over the world as if it could cleanse it.

But no amount of rain could wash away what he’d done.

Suguru’s thoughts wandered, as they always did when he allowed himself to pause. They went first to the faces of those he’d left behind. Satoru’s sharp laugh, the way he used to grin like they had all the time in the world. Shoko, rolling her eyes at their antics but always there with her quiet understanding. Yaga, who had done his best to guide them, even when Suguru’s ideals veered into dangerous territory.

And then there was you. Always you.

You haunted him the most.

He wondered if you hated him now. You had every right to. When he left, he thought he was doing the right thing—breaking free of the chains tying him to a world he couldn’t save. He told himself it would be easier if he severed ties with you, too. That you’d be better off without him, without the destruction and darkness his path would bring.

But the memory of your voice, the way you had begged him to stay, still tore at him. He thought cutting you off would spare you the pain of watching him become something unrecognisable.

Instead, it seemed he’d only broken the one person who had made him feel like he could be whole.

The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, sharp and deliberate in the rain. His hand instinctively hovered over the curses at his command, but then he heard a voice he hadn’t dared hope for—or feared—since the day he walked away.

“Turn around, Suguru.”

He turned slowly, heart tightening as he saw you.

You stood there, soaked to the bone, but your eyes burned with fury and something deeper—something fractured.

“So it’s you,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended.

“Don’t say it like I’m just someone,” you snapped, your voice like a blade cutting through the rain.

You were trembling, but your resolve was unshaken. He could see it in the way you gripped the blade in your hand, the way your jaw tightened as if holding back a scream.

“I loved you,” you spat, the venom in your voice making his chest ache. “I trusted you. And then you—” Your words faltered, your voice cracking. “You left me. You betrayed all of us. Do you even understand what you’ve done?”

“I didn’t betray you,” Suguru said softly, though the words felt hollow even to him.

“You abandoned me!” you shouted, stepping closer. The rain streaked down your face, mingling with tears he knew you didn’t want him to see. “Did I mean so little to you that you could just walk away? Without a word, without—” You shook your head, your voice trembling with anguish. “Without fighting for me?”

His throat tightened. He wanted to tell you he had fought for you—fought with himself, over and over, before making the decision to leave. But what good were words now?

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” he murmured.

“How noble of you,” you hissed, stepping closer still. The blade in your hand was steady now, its tip pressing against his chest. “Do you even know what you’ve done to me? Do you know how many times I wished I could hate you, only to realise I’m still—”

Your voice broke again, and the pain in it shattered what little composure he had left.

“If you hate me that much,” he said, his voice low, “then do it. Kill me.”

Your eyes widened. He stood completely still, offering no resistance as the blade pressed harder against his chest. He could feel its sharp point through the fabric of his robes, but the weight in your gaze was far more devastating.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice barely audible over the rain. “End it. If that’s what you need to do—”

“I hate you,” you whispered, the blade trembling in your grip. Tears fell freely now, and you let out a choked sob as the weapon clattered to the ground.

“I hate you for making me feel like this,” you continued, your voice cracking with every word. “I hate you for leaving. And I hate you even more because I can’t stop loving you.”

The storm inside him broke as you stumbled back, your knees buckling beneath you. He moved without thinking, catching you before you could fall.

Your hands fisted in his robes, clutching at him like you were trying to hold him together even as he was the one who had broken you.

“I never stopped loving you,” Suguru confessed, the words tumbling out unbidden. They felt like a wound torn open, a truth he could no longer keep buried.

You sobbed into his chest, and he held you as tightly as he dared, as if letting go would break both of you completely. For a moment, he let himself believe that holding you like this could be enough.

But it wasn’t.

You pulled away first, your hands lingering on his robes for a moment before you forced yourself to let go.

“I can’t do this,” you choked out, stepping back. “I can’t keep loving someone who’s already gone.”

Your words hit him harder than any curse ever could.

When you looked up at him, your eyes were filled with anguish, but there was something else too—something final.

“You’re not the man I loved anymore, Suguru. That man is dead.”

He wanted to argue, to tell you he was still here, still him. But the truth was undeniable. You were right.

The man you loved had died the day he chose this path.

You turned and walked away, each step like a knife twisting in his chest. He stood frozen, the rain soaking through his robes, his hand half-raised as if to reach for you.

But he didn’t call out. He didn’t move.

He let you go.

And as your figure disappeared into the rain, Suguru realised something he had been running from all along:

Losing you wasn’t the cost of his ideals.

It was the cost of his soul.

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moody-alcoholic · 8 hours ago

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These Violent Delights

Chapter 18 - Morning Tide

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 7.5k words. More fluff and filler with a little bit of hurt/comfort sprinkled in. Good soup.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, period- omega is on her period. (What you think just because the omega’s all sad she’s not going to be regular? I wish), alcohol, mentions of blood, nightmares, mourning, alcohol.

AN: I have 2 more chapters in this arc, I will post them this month then taking a break until after the new year. I will also be doing a little re-write of this chapter and chap 17, you shouldn't notice anything too different but if you come back and it seems 'different' that's why.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

You wake in pain. Your body throbs. It is an all too familiar pain, a dull throbbing that travels through your body with each pulse of your heart. You turn over in bed. The sun is up. You've been in bed for longer than normal. You move your body to get up when a stabbing pain hits you so hard you yelp, your hands flying to press on your abdomen.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath. You throw the covers back forcing yourself out of the bed. You let out an annoyed sigh when you see the red stain on the bedding. You knew this was going to happen eventually, even if you were kind of wishing it wouldn’t.

Everything aches. Even your head feels stuffy. You just want to crawl back into bed but you have stuff to do. You go over to your bag, the one you still haven’t properly unpacked. You pull almost everything out looking for the bag of toiletries you know is in there somewhere.

You take it out to the bathroom. You hope they packed you something even if it’s just tampons or pads, anything. You look to your left. John’s door is completely closed for once. Maybe he’s still trying to air out the lingering smell of vanilla and leather that hangs heavy on this floor. He and Kyle must have really had a good time.

You can hear voices downstairs so at least someone is up. You don’t really care though; you need to sit down. Each step sends shooting pains through your body. Everything about this sucks, but you’ve been through periods alone before. You can do it again.

You make it to the bathroom pulling everything out of the bag until you find what you’re looking for. They did pack you pads and tampons, and that makes you smile a little. Maybe Dr. Piper did this a long time ago. You take your time changing and cleaning yourself up before getting up to leave. Standing up makes you dizzy and you brace yourself on the wall.

You hope you don’t bump into anyone. You just want to get into your room, curl up and sleep, sleep until this is all over. You’re not that lucky though.

“You okay lass?” Johnny asks. Your head is pounding as you turn to look at him, your grip a vice on the bag in your hands. You see his nostrils flair. You must smell awful, but there’s no way you have the energy to hide your scent right now. You try to move back to the bedroom but you’re unsteady on your feet, wobbling as Johnny comes behind you.

“Easy lass. What’s wrong?” He holds you up as you blink yourself back to reality. You get a surge of adrenaline and push yourself off his chest. His hands stay on you as he studies your face. He brings the back of his hand up to feel your forehead.

“You’re burning up love,” he says. You can smell his worry in the air, and it makes you nervous.

“I’m fine, it’s my period,” you say. His hands don’t leave as he looks around your face.

“C’mon,” he says, guiding your body to John’s room. You don’t want to bother him.

“Johnny, I'm fine. I don’t want to bother John,” you say. He’s guiding you back over to your room. You try to turn your body in but Johnny continues stopping outside John’s door and knocking. You slump up against him, your body feeling weak and heavy. You just want to sleep.

John opens the door and you blink at him. Screw it, you’re in too much pain to care or feel embarrassed.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” you say, but it’s quieter than you expect. His hand comes up to touch your face.

“You’re warm,” he says looking back up at Johnny.

“Period,” Johnny says. Price lets out a sigh, his fingers running down to your chin. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

“Lay down, I’ll get Gaz,” John says. Johnny pushes you through to the master bedroom guiding you over to the bed. You can smell John’s scent in the air, and when you make it over to the bed you can smell him on the pillows.

“Get in. I’ll get you some painkillers,” Johnny says as he pulls the bedding back for you. You would rather be in your own bed but you are in no mood to fight. You just want to lie down and nap. You put the bag on the bedside table and get under the covers, pulling them up under your chin as you start to shiver.

“It's cold,” you say when Johnny comes back with a glass of water and a bottle of pills.

“I’ll get a fire started. Then you’ll be nice and warm.” He takes 2 pills out and hands them to you. You drink them down. Each movement hurts. Your head is starting to spin as you lay back in the bed.

Kyle comes through the door next. He looks over at you, then Johnny.

“I’m fine,” you say but it comes out as a slur. You’re starting to lose your grip on consciousness. You need to rest.

“I’ll take the first shift.” Kyle nods at Johnny as he bends down in front of the fire. Kyle’s still in his pajamas, you think as he pulls his shirt off over his head and climbs into bed behind you. You didn’t even need to ask, you didn’t need to say anything, they just slipped into the routine like they’ve done this a thousand times before.

Dr. Piper must have really taught them well.

“Jesus, you're burning up,” Kyle says, wrapping his arms around you. You shiver at his touch. Pain shoots up your body and you groan bringing your legs up to your stomach.

“S’okay, relax,” Kyle says as his scent washes over you blocking out the scent of alpha in the room. It calms you down almost instantly. You look over at Johnny still bent down in front of the fireplace. You let out a long sigh letting the tension from your body go.

“That's it, relax. I got you,” Kyle says, his lips up against your ear. You try to stay awake but you can't for long. Kyle’s hand comes up to stroke your hair and it's enough to lull you to sleep.

...

You dream about the loch, but the loch is filled with blood. Thick and dark red. The stones are all are white. You look down and you’re naked. Blood drips down your arms, from a gash on the side of your neck and your side—exactly where Dr. Piper cut you.

You look back up and see John standing waist deep in the water. He's naked too, or topless at least. You can’t see his bottom half.

He turns when he hears you move the stones crunching under your feet. He has bullet holes scattered across his chest. Blood pours out of them. He holds his hand out for you.

You don’t want to take it. You stop at the edge of the blood filled loch. The smell of blood is strong in the air and it almost makes you gag. You shake your head and try to back up but it’s like there's a wall behind you. Not a wall a person.

Their hands grip your shoulders pushing you into the thick liquid.

“No, please.” You're trying to turn around and stop them, but they’re stronger than you. Before you know it, you’re standing next to John. He smiles at you as he grips your arms. The hands leave your shoulders, and it's like there was never anyone behind you.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says. You don't know what he's apologising for. He pulls you into his arms hugging you right before falling down with you, pushing you under into the loch.

…

Someone is shaking your shoulder calling your name. You blink your vision fuzzy. Pain radiates through your body.

“Dr. Piper?” you ask. Cold hands find your face.

“Just me lass.” The familiar Scottish accent drags you back to reality. You blink trying to clear your vision. He brushes hair stuck to your forehead. A thin sheen of sweat has built up on you but you still feel cold.

“Time for some more painkillers.” You nod, moving to prop yourself up. You can’t feel Kyle behind you. The room is dark, the only light coming from the fireplace and the room door. Johnny brings the glass to your lips and you gulp a few mouthfuls before he gives you the pills.

You look over at the doorway. John is standing there leaning on the doorframe. You can see the concern on his face. It makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

“Sorry I stole your bed,” you slur, sleepiness over taking you again.

“Shh, it’s okay, just rest,” Johnny says, stroking your head. You close your eyes. “Kyle will be in soon.”

John’s pacing the kitchen. It’s the morning of the third day since your period started and for some reason it feels wrong. He can’t put his finger on it. He’s not sure why. You looked so pale and weak when he saw you last night. He barely slept through the night, his mind plagued by all the horrible things that could happen to you.

“Anything?” he asks. Simon sighs again looking at John over the laptop.

“The same as I told you 5 minutes ago. Keep giving her painkillers. Make sure she eats at least once a day. If her temperature goes over 38, then start worrying,” Simon says, reading the instructions off of Piper's handy ‘how to care for your omega’ document from the USB she left.

“How is she?” John asks as soon as Kyle walks in the kitchen. Kyle looks like he’s just woken up from the longest sleep of his life as he goes over to the kettle.

“She’s sleeping. Tav is taking care of her,” Kyle says. John sighs looking back over at Simon. “Christ Cap, you need to relax. You’re stinking the place up.”

He moves to the back door cracking it open. The smell of his worry is almost overwhelming. Kyle moves to look over Simon’s shoulder

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“John thinks there’s something wrong,” Simon says, scrolling through the PDF. Kyle looks over at John who’s leaned against the counter tapping his foot.

“It was like this last time,” Kyle says, trying to be reassuring. He doesn’t know how much it’s helping though.

“She had Dr. Montgomery last time,” Price says. There’s a hardness in his voice.

“She’s fine John. Go for a run, it'll make you feel better,” Simon says. John lets out a sigh looking over at Kyle pouring himself a cup of tea.

“Call me, if anything changes,” John says heading for the door. Simon sighs, raising an eyebrow at him. John nods heading upstairs.

“I’ve never seen him so on edge,” Kyle says sitting down at the island next to Simon. Simon lets out another long sigh.

“What?” Kyle asks. Looking over at him his eyes are focused on the laptop.

“He misses her.”

“Yeah but he’s giving her space,” Kyle says, sipping on his tea.

“Forced proximity would do them both good. After this is over, we should figure something out,” Simon says, closing the laptop lid. Kyle chuckles.

“I told him the same thing a few days ago.”

“When John gets back, we’ll go to the shops,” Simon says, getting up and heading to leave the room. Kyle looks out the window into the garden. It’s snowing. He smiles while taking another sip of his tea. You like the snow.

You take a deep breath in. You’re enjoying the smell of nature filling your nose. You can smell John and Simon too, their scent is strong in the air even though they’re outside. Both the alpha's have been throwing punches at each other for the better part of 15 minutes.

Your head is still spinning, and you thought fresh air would help. You’re still in pain, but you slept for almost 3 days, every moment other than when Johnny or Kyle would wake you up to eat or give you medication. You don’t remember much and you were too embarrassed to ask Johnny or Kyle what had happened. Probably just what you’re used to; the periods after heat are always the worst.

The first thing you wanted to do when you dragged yourself downstairs was go outside. Your body is stiff, your energy levels next to nothing, and your appetite hasn’t quite come back yet. You just needed some fresh air, to feel a cold breeze on your skin. Lucky the snow had melted and the sun was out or you don’t think they would have let you outside at all.

“C’mon Riley!” John shouts as Simon’s right hook hits the boxing pad. He's not putting his full weight into it. He’s not putting all his effort into it. John can see the frustration in his face. It’s been like this for weeks. Simon can’t keep this up, it’s not good for him. He’s reverting inwards.

Simon throws another punch.

“Better,” John says. He turns. He can see you sitting on a chair next to the back door. You like to sit outside. Johnny and Kyle don’t let you stay out for long though, at least not while you’re still recovering.

Simon throws another punch. John turns his attention back to him.

“Distracted?” Simon asks, wiping away a bead of sweat before it drips down his eyebrow.

“Never.” John smiles pulling the pad off.

“Still think you can still beat me?” Simon asks, raising an eyebrow.

“When you’re throwing right hooks like that, no problem,” John teases him. Simon scoffs.

You watch as John and Simon both start throwing punches at each other. You hear the skin to skin contact from each block or hit. You can’t tell who’s winning, but you want John to win. At least you think you do. Warm hands come and rest on your shoulders, you look up to see Kyle behind you watching them.

“Ready to come back in?” he asks. The hot water bottle you have under your blanket has gone cold but the thought of moving anywhere right now just makes you wince.

“Who do you think will win?” you ask, watching John land a decent hit on Simon.

“John,” he says. You smile watching them tussle. John does seem to have the upper hand. A shiver runs through your body.

“Come on,” Kyle encourages. He gently squeezes your shoulders. You nod, gripping the blanket and hot water bottle letting Kyle lead you inside. His hands don’t leave you as you make it into the kitchen. Johnny is ready with a glass of water and some pills. You hand him the hot water bottle and take them.

“Where do you want to go?” Kyle asks, his hand falling down to the small of your back. You’re not sure. Maybe you could use a nap but the thought of climbing up the stairs doesn’t sound fun.

“Sofa?” you say, leaning up against him. Kyle nods and you walk through to the living room. The fire is almost constantly going, keeping the old house warm. There’s one in the master bedroom too. You enjoyed the sound of it, the popping and crackling of the wood. It helped you sleep.

“TV?” Kyle asks. He puts his arm round the back of the sofa and you sit laying against him pulling the blanket over you. Even with the fire you still get the shivers. Kyle pulls you up against him projecting a calming scent into the air.

“You did good,” you say, your eyes feeling heavy as you watch the show on the TV. Kyle just hums, shuffling so you’re more comfortable up against him, his hand rubbing your arm.

2 days later Kyle and Johnny said they want everyone to eat dinner together tonight. Normally you would all eat at different times. Kyle would cook or people would make their own food. This time though they insisted on everyone sitting for a ‘family meal.’

You don’t know how you feel about that but you don’t really have much of a choice. You don’t want to cause problems. You have still been avoiding John but you’ve been missing him more and more. There’s an ache that comes when you think about him. You dream about him, sometimes good, sometimes bad.

Maybe this is just what healing feels like.

“Can I help?” you ask Kyle.

“Of course. What do you want to do?” he asks, stepping back from the potatoes he’s peeling.

“I can do that if you want?” you ask, pointing at the veggies. He smiles, nodding, and you wash your hands, rolling your sleeves up. You pick up the peeler and continue from Kyle's work.

“What’s for dinner?” you ask.

“Steak, roast potatoes and veggies,” Kyle says. You nod, putting the peeled potatoes into a pot with water. “You know if there is anything you fancy you just have to say.”

“I don’t really know what I like,” you say. You had a controlled diet in the bunker. When you were on the base you got to try all new things. You miss the puddings; they were your favourite. “I like everything you cook.”

Kyle chuckles coming back over next to you, putting some carrots down.

“Hey Gaz, do we have any beer?” Johnny asks coming into the kitchen.

“Yeah in the fridge,” Kyle says.

“Can I try one?” you ask. They both look at you as Johnny cracks the can open.

“Are you sure?” Kyle asks. Johnny scoffs.

“She’s an adult Gaz,” Johnny says, pushing past him and stepping in front of you. “Course you can have one.” He hands you the open can. You accept it. It’s cold. You bring it up to your nose to smell it. It smells strange, not like anything you’ve smelt before.

Sometimes the Professor would drink whisky. He would get drunk and then come and berate you, take his anger out on you. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, on him. This doesn’t smell like that though, like it’s weaker and there’s a hint of fruitiness to it.

You look up at Kyle and Johnny looking back at you. You watch them as you take a sip. You didn’t expect it to be fizzy. If anything that shocks you more than the taste. It’s earthy, mellow, not as sweet as you were expecting but strangely refreshing. You go back for a second sip. It has a bitter after taste but in a good way, and it has a burn too, when it slides down your throat.

“Well?” Johnny asks, almost like he’s impatient.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” you say, nodding at him. He smiles, turning back around and going back into the fridge.

“Take it easy though, yeah? Wouldn’t want you drunk and disorderly.” Johnny winks before heading through the dining room to the living room. You put the can down and get back to peeling the last of the potatoes.

“Have you ever had alcohol before?” Kyle asks. You shake your head, and your head swims for a second. You see Kyle taking out a glass and a bottle of something out the fridge.

“What’s that?” you ask as he pours a red liquid into the glass.

“Wine, want to taste?” he says, offering you the glass first. You nod, taking it out of his hands. It smells stronger than the beer, you just go for it and take a sip. You immediately pull a face. It's strong and bitter. You hand it back to him, forcing yourself to swallow.

You cough, reaching over for your beer, taking a few gulps to get rid of the taste. He chuckles, taking a sip of the wine before placing the glass down on the kitchen island.

“Wine can take a little while to get used to,” he chuckles. You go back to the vegetables finishing up and letting Kyle check your work. He smiles telling you you’ve done a good job. You feel like he would have said that regardless but you blush at the praise.

You finish your beer while Kyle tells you more about his family. That’s how he learnt to cook, his mum and aunts.

“Do you think you’ll get to see them?” you ask. He shrugs then shakes his head finishing off the glass of wine.

“I don’t think so. Usually I wouldn’t see them until after deployment has ended.” You can smell his sadness in the air. Now you feel bad that you’ve upset him. He looks at you and smiles anyway.

“Another?” he asks, pointing at the empty can. You nod. He goes into the fridge handing you a new one. By the time you’re halfway through it your head starts to feel funny. It’s good though, you feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You don’t even flinch when John comes into the kitchen to ask when the food will be ready.

“15 minutes.” Kyle smiles as he shows you how to cook the steaks in a heavy cast iron pan. You watch as John smiles at you before leaving back out the room, your head follows him and goosebumps stand up on the back of your neck.

“Why don’t you go sit with him. I can finish up here,” Kyle says. You look back at him spooning butter over the steak.

“I’m okay here,” you say smiling at him. Kyle hums going back to focus on the food. You look back at the door John left through. You miss him, you can’t help it, it’s the bond. You rub the back of your neck.

“Do you have a girlfriend Kyle?” you ask. He laughs looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t know what to say.

“I don’t have time for anything like that,” he says, pressing down on the steak in the pan. You watch it sizzle as the butter melts over it.

“Why not?”

“Work takes up too much time. Most people don’t get it: why you have to be away for so long, why you can’t talk about work. It makes it difficult to form relationships when you’re not around most of the time.” You can hear sadness in his voice.

“How about the others? Simon and Johnny?” You swill the beer can in your hand.

“Same story, too busy for girlfriends.”

“What about John?” You raise an eyebrow. He looks over at you for a second taking the pan off the heat and turning to the kitchen island.

“John likes his job. He’s good at his job. For him it’s a lifestyle.” Kyle sighs, taking a sip of his wine. “That's why he’s the Captain.”

“That’s why he’s the alpha,” you say under your breath. He's a good alpha.

“Well, I think we’re almost done if you want to set the table?” he asks. You nod, going into the cupboard and bringing out the plates. You take your time. Maybe if you take long enough you can skip dinner. The table is round. You take the centrepiece off, moving it to the kitchen as Johnny comes out from the living room into the dining room.

“Almost ready?” he asks. You nod. He smiles as you come back with knives and forks. Johnny helps you finish setting up. Kyle comes over, bringing over the food. Johnny sticks his head into the living room and calls Simon and John before sitting down and patting the chair next to him.

You smile. At least you’ll be sandwiched between Kyle and Johnny. Or at least that’s what you thought before Simon sits down on the other side of you. John sits opposite smiling at you. Kyle comes over with the pan walking round the table and putting a steak on each plate.

Johnny gets up suddenly and heads into the kitchen coming back with beer and passing them around. You reach over and pick yours up, cracking open the top. You feel relaxed as soon as you take a sip. At least that's a good thing, because you don’t know how awkward it would be without.

“Looks lovely,” John says.

“Yeah, don’t listen to what Gaz says, we all know who really cooked it all,” Johnny says, nudging you before reaching forward for the roast potatoes. He spoons some on your plate first—more than you think you’ll be able to eat—before doing the same with the veggies.

“I won’t be able to eat all that,” you say looking up at him. He chuckles winking at you.

“I bet you will,” he says. He’s not wrong, after a few bites you realise you’re actually very hungry and manage to finish everything even going back for more potatoes to soak up the gravy Johnny heavy-handedly poured on your plate.

You didn’t talk much but you listened to everyone's conversations. It wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. Maybe that was thanks to the alcohol. More likely though it’s because this is your pack and there is no need to feel awkward around them.

“What was that place in Las Almas Rudy and Al took us to?” Johnny asks, leaning back in his chair.

“Which one?” Simon asks.

“The one that had the really good tamales,” Johnny says.

“No, the one we went to after that had the bottomless spicy mojitos was the best,” Kyle says.

“I don’t remember that one,” Johnny says, frowning.

“Yeah, ‘cause it was bottomless mojitos,” Simon chuckles. You take a sip of the beer as Kyle laughs, your eyes resting on John. He’s looking round the table, listening to Kyle until they land on you. He smiles at you and you smile back. You like seeing him smile.

“Las Almas is in Mexico right?” you ask looking around the table.

“Yeah,” Johnny says, nudging you.

“I’ve always heard about it. I think the Professor used to holiday there,” you say pushing the last of the food round your plate. “He had a house in Florida too. He always talked about going there one day. It would have been nice to see the ocean.”

“Dr. Montgomery told us about the house in Florida,” John says. You look up at him.

“Florida is nice. Lot’s of beaches and the everglades,” Kyle says.

“Pff, Wyoming, supervolcano, geysers shooting hundreds of feet in the air,” Johnny says, throwing his arms up.

“Alaska, it’s cold and quiet,” Simon says. You turn to him.

“That sounds nice, a lot like here,” you say. He smiles at you.

“What about you, Cap?” Kyle asks. John presses his lips together thinking for a few seconds.

“Texas, big food, big bases—” groans around the table stop John as they all complain about his pick.

“Pick somewhere without a million military bases,” Johnny says, shaking his head. You chuckle as you watch him defend his pick.

“Fine. Arizona, Grand Canyon,” he says, his new choice met with a slew of agreements and head nodding, while he rolls his eyes.

“Anything for pudding?” Johnny asks looking back at Kyle.

“Yeah,” Kyle says getting up.

“I can help,” you say, standing up almost as fast and pushing your chair back. Suddenly you’re overcome with a wave of dizziness and you lean forward bracing yourself on the table. Johnny and Simon are both stood up now, their hands on you as you slowly sit back down. There’s a heavy tension hanging in the air, it feels like everyone is holding their breath as you reach over to pick up a glass of water.

“Christ love how much have you had?” Johnny asks in an effort to lighten the mood. His hand falling to your thigh. You look over at John, he’s not smiling anymore his body angled forward like he’s about to jump over the table to you. You sip the water letting the dizziness subside. Everyone slowly sits back down returning to their original positions.

“Four,” you count in your head looking around at the empty cans on the table. “Maybe five.”

You feel guilty. You’re not sure why. You should have been more careful. You like the way it makes you feel though; it’s relaxed you and you needed that tonight.

Johnny squeezes your thigh as Simon stands back up starting to clear the table.

“Sorry,” you whisper, hanging your head as you see John relax back in his chair.

“C’mon, none of that,” Johnny says, his hand moving from your thigh to pull your chin up. “Maybe just no more for now.”

You nod at him and look over at John. You can smell his worry in the air, and it makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

“Here you go. Jelly and ice cream,” Kyle says, putting a dish down in front of you. So that’s what the red wobbling thing in the fridge was.

“How old are we, 5?” Johnny asks, pulling his own bowl closer to him. You’ve never had ice cream before but you’ve seen it in books. You always thought it should be in a cone not a bowl. You pick up your spoon and scoop some of the ice cream up.

It’s cold and tastes amazing, like vanilla, sweet and creamy. You can’t help letting out a hum as it melts on your tongue. You go back for more immediately. You like the feeling of letting it melt slowly in your mouth. You look around the table at everyone looking at you.

“Good?” John asks. You smile nodding at him.

“Take it easy though or you’ll get brainfreeze,” Johnny says as you spoon more in your mouth. You frown at him. He just chuckles.

“I like the ice cream,” you say. Johnny chuckles.

“Wait till you try chocolate ice cream.”

“Or strawberry,” Kyle says.

“Should pick up some neapolitan when you’re out next,” Simon says.

“Good idea,” Kyle says. You’re not a big fan of the jelly’s texture but it’s sweet and works well with the ice cream. They all go back to talking again about past missions but mainly places they’ve eaten around the world. By the sounds of it they’ve travelled a lot.

This was nice. You find yourself switching between John and whoever is talking. Maybe he won’t realise how much you’ve been looking at him, but since you catch him glancing at you just as much, you’re not so sure. You feel your cheeks heat up everytime he catches you, and you don’t know why.

By the time everyone is finished eating you are feeling tired. You even hear Johnny yawn a few times between anecdotes. You find yourself leaning up against him, your head feeling heavy and your belly full. Now would be a perfect time to just crawl up into your nest and sleep.

“Tired?” Johnny asks, turning to kiss the top of your head. You hum at the warmth as he wraps his arm around you. John looks at his watch.

“It's late, we should get to bed soon,” he says.

“Football’s on tomorrow night. We should get some snacks in,” Kyle says.

“And more beer, I think we drank it all today,” Johnny says. You look around the table. You haven’t had anymore but they weren't shy guzzling them down.

“It’s a plan then. Will you join us?” John asks you directly. You pull your head off Johnny.

“Yeah. I don’t know anything about football though,” you say as John smiles, letting out a chuckle.

“It’s okay, we’ll teach you,” he says. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he leans forward getting up. “You did a good job, the food was lovely.”

You smile at him nodding. You almost want to follow him as he heads back into the kitchen and you hear the back door open and close.

“C’mon lass, let's get to bed. Leave Si to clean with Gaz,” Johnny says getting up.

“I don’t mind helping,” you say, following Johnny.

“It’s okay,” Kyle calls but you’re already sleepily following Johnny upstairs. You’ve been sleeping back in your bed finally letting John have his back. Johnny and Kyle cleaned your sheets and flipped the mattress. They did it all without you having to ask or do it yourself. When you tried to thank them they wouldn’t have it.

“Sleep tight yeah? Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” Johnny calls before turning into his room. You think he shares it with Simon, or maybe Kyle, letting Simon have a room to himself. You look into John’s room. You liked sleeping in John’s bed; his scent on the pillows relaxed you. It’s a good smell, a safe smell. Your alpha will always feel safe, unless you break the bond with him.

You walk back into your room, your body feeling light for the first time in what feels like forever. You smile thinking about the meal and spending time with them all again. It felt right.

As you turn the light on your eyes are immediately drawn to the scarf tied on the headboard. The happy feeling is immediately overtaken by sadness and guilt. It doesn’t make you feel happy anymore. It doesn’t make you think of the good memories you have of her.

It doesn’t even smell of her anymore.

You run your fingers over it. You don’t want to see it anymore. You don’t want to just shove it back in your bag though, that doesn’t feel right. You look out your window. It’s snowing again. Johnny said it might do this for the next few days. It gives the whole home a cozy feel, like in the storybooks you would read as a kid.

You turn the light off, cracking the window open slightly letting a cold breeze waft in. The outdoor light makes the snow look magical as it falls leaving a thick layer on the ground. You get into bed pulling your duvet all the way up to your chin. You let out a long breath watching the snow fall until you fall asleep.

...

You dream about the loch. The stone shore is covered in a thick layer of snow but it’s warm and the sun is high in the sky. You look back down and see Dr. Piper stood on the shore. You walk up to her and she turns smiling at you.

“Hey,” you say, leaning up against her. She’s wearing the scarf. It blows in the wind.

“How are things going with you and your alpha?” she asks.

“Good,” you reply. It’s a lie but you’ve never had any problems with lying to her before. Only this time she lets out a sigh. There’s a change in the air, and the sun is blocked out by a cloud. Her body tenses up and you stand up straight. Even the waves on the lake pick up.

“Why are you lying?” she says, her voice low. It’s not a tone you’ve ever heard her use. Low and grumbling, almost like an alpha. You back away from her, goosebumps rising on the back of your neck. You don’t get far, suddenly you’ve backed up into a tree and you can’t move.

She walks over to you and you can see the anger on her face as the wind starts to pick up. You’ve never seen her mad like this before, it reminds you of when the Professor gets mad. Dr. Piper doesn’t get mad but right now she is.

“I’m trying,” you say, trying to move, but it feels like something is holding you in place. She walks up to you, her face centimeters away from yours

“You’re not trying hard enough!” she shouts and it makes you jump. Fear runs through you. You want to get away but you can’t, you can’t move. Dr. Piper lets out a long sigh and brings her hand round to the back of your neck.

You want to scream, you want to fight her but you can't, you're pinned up against the tree.

“Such a bad omega,” she says as she presses her fingers into the back of your neck. You gasp and then everything goes black.

…

You snap up in bed, your body thick with sweat as you pant. Your hand comes up to your chest as you try to calm down. It feels like your heart is going to explode out of your chest. You swing your legs out the side of the bed. The outdoor light is off. You shiver as the wind howls through the crack in your window. You get up to close it. The sky must be clear because the moon is lighting up the untouched snow covered fields.

When you turn to look back at your bed, the moon is hitting the scarf perfectly lighting up the blue tones. It makes a shiver run through your body.

You take the scarf off the headboard and open your bedside table drawer putting it in. You swallow the lump in your throat and walk out the room. You need to see John. You’re not sure what you’re going to say but you just need to see him. You knock on John’s door.

He still has it cracked open and you hear him getting up from the bed. You didn’t expect him to be awake, but maybe it’s not as late as you think. Maybe you haven’t been asleep for too long. He opens the door. He’s shirtless, and heat rushes to your cheeks as he looks down at you. He smiles.

The hallway is dark, and the only light is coming from his room. The shadows across his chest make all his muscles and scars look more defined. You move your eyes back up to his face. It makes the dark circles under his eyes look bigger, almost like he hasn’t slept in days.

He smells good, safe like an alpha. You miss him. You look at his deep blue eyes. He always has such a soft expression. You almost forget what you want to ask him, losing yourself in his eyes.

“The loch,” you say before you forget. “In the morning, could we go?”

“Of course,” he says smiling. You suddenly don’t want to leave. You let out a sigh turning back towards your room.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You turn back to look at him and nod.

“Sleep tight,” he says as you walk into your room.

“You too,” you say before closing the door behind you. You lean back against it hearing him go back into his room.

You really do miss him.

It’s still snowing when you make it to the loch. It’s been almost a week since you’ve been out here. The wind has picked up and you’re running Dr. Piper's scarf through your fingers. Johnny is with you, the others get out of the car slowly. They’re giving you space but you feel like you don’t want it.

You walk down to the water's edge. The wind seems stronger down here.

“You don’t have to do this,” Johnny says, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. You appreciate the warmth, his contact.

“I do, I have to move on,” you say looking down at the colourful silk scarf. It doesn’t smell of her any more. It’s just a scarf. Each time you look at it, it makes you sad. You’re sick of being sad. You want to move on. With Kyle and Johnny. Simon and especially John.

You miss her but Johnny’s right, you’ll never forget her. You need to hold onto the happy memories. She was always there for you. She would always be kind to you. When you were in the bunker she was the ray of sunshine that kept you going. Her blonde hair always reminded you of the sun, just like the mural in the bedroom.

You look over the patterns on the scarf. There's an anchor and a rope line. Life-preservers. It’s blue with spots of red and green. There’s waves on it. The loch seems like the perfect place. You look out at the water. The sunlight peeks through the clouds and reflects off the water.

You close your eyes bringing the scarf up to your nose. There’s no smell any more. The smell of beta doesn’t even remind you of her, it makes you think of Johnny and Kyle first. Your pack. They will always be your pack. She trusted them. She left you with them.

The crunching of pebbles makes you open your eyes. Johnny is gone, and you turn to see Simon by your side. You tense up, but his hand comes to land on yours, covering the scarf bunched up in your fist.

“She loved you,” he says. You look up at him with tears in your eyes. He looks down at you. His expression is soft, his eyes looking almost golden. Snow gathers on his hair. He has blonde hair, just like Dr. Piper.

“I loved her too. She was like a mother to me.”

“I know.”

“I feel like if I let her go I'll forget her.”

“You won’t. You don’t forget important people like her. You don’t forget people you love.”

“You think?” you ask looking up at him.

“I had a nephew.”

“Simon—”

“He was probably too young to even understand who I was. But I remember him, every day. The memories never go away.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, leaning up against him. He never speaks about his family. You had no idea he had lost people too.

“You don’t have to do this. You could keep it as a memento,” he says, taking his hand off yours so you can see the scarf again.

“I can’t. Every time I see it I think of the pain she went through. I need to move on, for the sake of the pack,” you say looking out over the water. His arm comes around your shoulder. You can smell his alpha in the air. The ground after rain.

“Is there anything you want to say?” he asks. You shake your head.

“I just wish I could have said thank you. I wish she knew how much she meant to me.” You sniffle, opening your fist and letting the scarf blow out in the wind, holding one of the ends with your thumb and finger.

“She knew, that's why she saved your life. She did it because she loved you,” he says, squeezing you tighter against him. You hold your hand up a little higher. The wind here is nice and strong. You want it to be carried far across the lake.

You sniffle. Suddenly you don’t want to let it go. Maybe you’re not ready. You blink your eyes letting the tears run down your face. It’s cold, and they sting.

‘Let go,’ you think, ‘it doesn’t have to be this hard.’

You let out a sigh. The wind is almost pulling the scarf out of your hand. She would have loved it here.

You open your fingers letting it fly off. You watch your arm still outstretched as it’s picked up higher into the sky.

She would have loved it here.

Your eyes follow it as it floats through the air. Suddenly it stops falling down to the water. You can see it floating on the top before the water drags it somewhere else. Too far for you to see.

She’s gone.

You feel numb. You thought maybe it would be freeing but there’s still an ache there deep inside you. You were bonded. Maybe that will never go away. Simon and Johnny are right, you’ll never forget her, you have to focus on the good memories.

The atmosphere changes and you feel empty. You shiver, goosebumps rise on the back of your neck and your hand goes up to rub it. Simon looks down at you.

“You okay?” It’s such a simple question, one you’ve been asked countless times over the last few weeks.

“No,” you admit, but you don’t know what to say. Simon moves in front of you resting his hands on your shoulders bending down so his head is level with yours. He’s blocking your view and you look up into his eyes.

“It’s okay.” His hands come up to cup your face. “You’re not going to be okay for a long time. It will get easier though. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say, sniffling. He wipes your tears away.

“I never make promises I can’t keep,” he says in a low voice. You let out a smile. He smiles back and pulls you into his arms. His hug is warming, tight. It’s what you need. You close your eyes, wrapping your arms around him as his chin rests on your head.

“Thank you,” you breathe, letting his scent fill your nose. The ground after rain and gunpowder. He hums, his chest vibrating as you press yourself up against him.

This is your pack now, this is your safe space. You feel another hand on your back opening your eyes to see Kyle. He rubs your back but you don’t want to leave. You shiver again though. It’s cold. You need to curl up in your nest and sleep.

You wish your nest was here.

You break away from the hug letting Kyle lead you back to the car. Johnny and John are leaned against the hood as they watch you walk over. They look sad. John has his hat in his hands. His eyes never leave you as you climb into the car.

You sit in the middle with Johnny getting in next to you. His hand comes to rest on your thigh. You lean up against him and close your eyes.

She’s gone. It’s time to move on, it’s time to fix the bonds, tighten the threads.

It’s time to focus on your pack.

Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

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