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dadsbongos · 4 years ago

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Greetings! I got this idea for danganronpa AU where Nagito is like ghost "living" (or haunting idk-) his old house and the reader moves into that house and they slowly became closer and yk<3

hi i love this concept :)

Request for: Nagito Komaeda Warnings: nagito’s backstory, slight religious overtones, we breach minor ghost-fucker territory (but no actual ghost-fucking), no-killing game au also ~~~

The house itself was rather nice. Nothing too luxurious for who the previous owner was aside from the obnoxiously fancy chandelier hanging in the den.

The realtor was hesitant to explain that the reason it was selling so comically cheap was, in fact, due to the belief of a ghost. Not just any, however. It was the previous owner’s ghost.

People who even stepped into the house could feel his chilling touch. Hear quiet, shaky whispers in the night. The fireplace would crackle and burst to life at strange times with nobody near it. Visitors and almost-buyers alike would thrust their warnings to stay away upon anybody who so much as looked at the home.

But that didn’t matter much - a house was a house and it’s not like the ghost was malicious from description. Just… annoying. Perhaps a little eerie, but again, not harmful. Everybody escaped without physical injury. So, why not buy it?

Maybe the ghost just needed a friend? Death was probably a lonely time.

Bought on Tuesday. Moved in Wednesday. Finished unpacking… still pending.

It’s not like (Y/n) had anybody to impress anyways. She’d made the move for a fresh start; new faces, new stories.

The bumps began on Friday.

Sometimes they were taps. Sometimes crashes followed by the gentle rapping against the walls, as if to apologize for the loud noise.

She’d stayed through the month, undeterred by any of the ghosts’ activities.

Then the happenings seemed a little more… intimate.

A photo slowly sliding out from beneath the fridge, at first.

Three people in frame. From left to right, there was a figure with shoulder-length pink hair and a smile to make the heavens jealous - then white hair to rival a cloud-marshmallow love child, skin sickly pale and body wastingly thin - finally, brown hair with an ahoge sticking out like an antenna and posture that almost made him taller than the one in the middle. Well, not really, but attempting counted, right?

“Which one’s you?” she asked the air, whether she was too tired, or simply didn’t care enough, to be embarrassed was irrelevant.

A single droplet of water, from a leak she didn’t know existed until this very moment, fell from the ceiling before splotching over the face of the one in the middle.

“White hair, heavy eye bags?”

There was no response, but she took it as a yes anyway. What a pretty, pretty face. In a tragic way.

Because he did look rather ill. Frail build and purple hues under his eyes. Pretty but suffering - it made her feel bad. Of course, she already knew he was dead, but even so - suffering should always inspire empathy rather than romance.

And again, he was dead, so the likelihood of a romance between them anyway was slim to none. None. Unless she suddenly dropped dead, there would be no sweet kisses in the morning or gentle hugs from behind as one of them makes dinner. Maybe when she died, he’d be available for a ghostly date while the house gets put back on the market.

(Y/n) chuckled at the sudden thought of lightning cracking into her home, despite the sunny weather, and striking her dead where she stood. Ridiculous, but God liked ridiculous things.

The sudden thought hit her - what if that old photo was old old? Maybe he was eighty when he died and she just subconsciously signed herself up for a date with an elderly ghost?

Shaking her head, (Y/n) scolded herself for the thought. She’d already be dead by then, it wouldn’t matter what age he was...

Then, it was the scribbling on spare papers. Always specifically spares. Double copies she had put in recycling. Scraps. Even on the backs of paper-esque trash. It was an oddly considerate move for a ghost, though to be fair, she’d never met a ghost before and couldn’t tell if it was out-of-place or not for them.

The words always appeared when she was out of the room. Leaving to grab something and coming back to find the out-dated schedule for work out of recycling and on her desk with crayon sprawled over it.

Eloquently said, in her opinion.

“Hi?” she looked around the room, “Can you not talk? I thought people said they heard whispers…”

A bang in the other room drew her out. When there was nothing out of place, she returned to her desk only to be met with more words.

I’m Nagito Komaeda :)

“Dodging the question, huh?”

The process repeated. Bang. Nothing out of the ordinary. Return. New words.

Sorry :(

“Don’t apologize,” (Y/n) shrugged off before moving to her computer, “I’m just gonna look you up.”

A series of bangs - now that she truly listened, it sounded like a fist pounding to the drywall - resonated through the home. She did not get up nor did she pause her actions of Googling the man known as Nagito Komaeda.

Until a piece of paper flew in from the open door.

Bad idea

“Probably, yeah,” she huffed, moving back to her computer.

Nagito Komaeda, born April 28th, first popped up as the sole survivor in an old plane hijacking report. Both parents, all plane staff, and the hijackers left dead after the plane crash caused by a meteor strike. Then he came up as a survivor of an old serial kidnapper/killer. Then as a boy who’d inherited the entirety of his parents’ fortune and won a large sum from a lottery ticket he’d found in the trash bag he was stuffed in by his kidnapper. Then as a Hope’s Peak graduate under the title Ultimate Lucky Student.

Finally, as a 25-year-old man who’d miraculously survived ten years post-diagnosis with frontotemporal dementia and advanced lymphoma before his death.

“Holy shit,” she nearly choked on her own shock, “You weren’t boring, that’s for sure.”

Another paper, this time written in marker as if he could sense that she didn’t wish to get up. Another strangely considerate move.

Thanks

You’re not creeped out?

“I mean, it’s more sad than creepy,” her eyes scanned over a single line in the article once again.

“Nagito Komaeda, after all his fortunes and misfortunes alike, died at age 25, after ten years of illness, surrounded by friends who took the place of family. Out of respect, no interviews were conducted, but anybody, anyone at all even from a quick glance, could tell - Nagito Komaeda will surely be missed.”

Her eyes watered slightly as she clicked out of the Togami Publications, laughing at the pure awkwardness of her situation, “Oh my God, that’s really fucking sad. I’m sorry your life sucked.”

Another paper.

It’s fine

I was just wasting space anyway :)

“No, you were- “ she gestured to her computer screen before covering her eyes in shame of her tears, “You meant so much to your friends.”

She expected memorial posts, maybe not as many as there were, but she saw them coming. What she didn’t see coming, however, was that each and every one would be dearly heartfelt - not a single one was disingenuous or vague in the slightest. She also didn’t see herself crying by the end of her little search.

But there she was.

Something light floated into her lap. A tissue.

“Oh my fucking God,” (Y/n) choked up again, picking up the tissue with a small smile, “Stop, you’re a ghost, you’re supposed to be scary and making me leave, not helping me dry my tears…”

Another paper atop the slowly growing pile.

Was that a ghostphobic remark?

“Oh, I’m keeping that one,” she stood, sniffling as she wiped away her tears, and picked up the last paper, nodding to herself as she muttered, “Yep. This one’s going on the wall.”

Nagito stopped whispering because people ran when he did. His voice was always hideous, he didn’t to be reminded. Besides, (Y/n) seemed to prefer the paper method - she hung up her favorites along the walls of her office and if a visitor teased her about it she would ignore them. It was admirable, how their grins and giggles rolled off her back like water droplets over a duck.

He wished he could be like that.

Could have been.

He still had trouble with that.

Has.

Nagito looks up from his spot at the kitchen table where (Y/n) was cooking for herself. She seemed so at-peace in this house, and he’s glad for that. He never liked living alone and everyone else seemed to hate having him there. Not that he blamed them much.

Even so, he much prefers (Y/n) over any past guest as his living counterpart of the house.

She even leaves chairs open for him at the table; he smiles widely at the thought, patting his thighs and kicking out his legs in his seat- just like now!

She’d pulled out the chair upon entering the kitchen before calling out for him that she’d be cooking. She even knew he liked watching her cook!

It was selfish of him to crave so much attention, but in the end, Nagito was already dead so… did it really matter when he indulged in his wants more than he should?

Divine punishment isn’t real and he likes being around her, so why should he bother hiding himself away in the attic?

(Y/n) moved around the house with little to no liveliness, it made him chuckle. Her shoulders drooped and footsteps heavy, it was fun. To feel like he wasn’t alone.

He hoped she felt the same. That he was a friend… or, undead companion?

He hoped she would stay and not move out.

He hoped they could be real friends one day… if it’s not too much to ask, that once she dies, she’ll meet him. The real him.

That would be heaven.

#nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #anon chatter :)#x reader #oh to have a polite nagito ghost you can pull out chairs for and look up his tragic backstory

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rpd-rookie · 4 years ago

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Scared of Love, Scared of Time - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader.

Author’s note: I made the reader as generic as possible for this one shot, as I instinctively tend to write fem!readers. I actually like how it turned out and I hope the attempt at poetic flourish (if we can call it that) is not too indigestible.

Warning: None really. It’s just angst and fluff.

“Up until I was 25, I thought the only response to ‘I love you’ was ‘Oh crap!’” Chandler Bing said this. Yes, you read right. Chandler Bing, the famous Friends character, the one who’s always lame with women and makes sardonic jokes. Funny how a quote from a fictional character can perfectly sum up your love life.

Eyes still widened in shock and disbelief, you were still staring at Leon who was staring back at you with a growing unease, waiting for an answer. Come on Y/N, say something. “Holy shit.” Seriously? Not the best answer you could have given him. And with that terrible response came awkwardness. It settled with you and Leon at the table of the cosy little restaurant you were having dinner in and put all its weight on both your shoulders, rendering the moment oppressive and more than uncomfortable. “Not what I expected.” Leon admitted as he let go of your hand. His ego was bruised but not as much as his heart. You could tell just by the way he was avoiding eye contact, teeth slightly gritted in a sort of sneer weirdly stretching his handsome features in a grimace. He was certainly regretting his confession and you couldn’t blame him. But come on, who says ‘I love you’ after a month of relationship?! “Leon…” He waved you to shut up with a sad smile but it wasn’t rude. He just didn’t want your pity right now. “No, I get it, Y/N. You’re not ready and I’m taking things way too quick as I always do. Forget what I just said. It was nothing.” Lies. It was not nothing. It was something truly important to him otherwise he would not have booked a table in this romantic restaurant and be forcing a smile while fidgeting under the table right now, looking for a way to get rid the burdening unease. “ I just think that …” But he cut you short again. “No, really, baby. That’s fine. No need for you to justify yourself. What don’t you pick a dessert?” He said before peering at the menu, almost hiding his face behind it.

But you wanted to justify yourself. You wanted to tell him that, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t open your heart to him as easily and as beautifully as he could open his to you. You wanted to tell him you were scared, scared of love, scared of the intensity of your feelings for him, scared of how painful they could be when he was away from you and how overwhelming they were when he was with you. You wanted to tell him you were scared to say those three words, scared of everything that would come with such a beautiful confession, scared to lay yourself bare, to appear vulnerable, scared that someone would one day take those feelings away and crush them along with your heart. You were scared of making things real, finding refuge and comfort hidden in your armour, which was basically the only place where no one could hurt you, the only place were your fragile heart was safe. Yes, you wanted to tell him all that.

“I’m … I’m scared.” You whispered with certain difficulty, those three words being the only three words you could manage to say right now. And as the sudden lump in your throat made you realised how hard it was for you to simply mouth your fear, you understood that confessing your love for Leon was certainly something you would sadly never be able to do. “Scared of what? My love for you?” You shook your head and pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a small tear forming in the corner of your eyes. You quickly blinked to make it go away before it could fall or be noticed. But you were dating the most competent agent America could have ever got. With him, nothing could go unnoticed. “Hey.” Leon grabbed your hand again and your eyes met the tender blueness of his eyes. Inside them, there was no bitterness, no resentment, just sweetness and compassion. “I just need time.” You admitted.

And he gave you time, all the time you wanted, all the time you needed despite his permanent fear of not being able to live another day each time he was leaving for work. You were not like him. You were not sharing the same recklessness or the same hedonism. You were not one to enjoy every second as if they could be your last, not one to see how limited time actually was. After all, how could you? You had not been through what he had been through to do so. You had not experienced all the horrors he had seen, had not yet realised how the clock of life could stop at any moment and how death could come knock at your door at any minute. You were not living in the same world as him, not seeing the world as dark and as hopeless as him, not seeing how it was permanently on the verge of crumbling like a sand castle and always ready to take away everything and everyone you ever loved in its fall. But he didn’t mind. He envied you for that. After all, he also wanted to believe he had all the time in the world to be able to actually take his time.

But then, what should have been a lovely morning happened. The smell of freshly baked pancakes and hot coffee was floating in the kitchen as the sun was slowly rising and entering the apartment through the patio door. You were home, lazily dressed in a night gown, still a bit sleepy but waiting for Leon to come back from a simple bodyguard mission in Tall Oaks where he had escorted President Benford to give a speech at Ivy University. Nothing extraordinary and nothing potentially life-threatening. His words exactly. Guess he was wrong. “The White House informed us last night that a wild biohazardous outbreak infected the population of Tall Oaks, resulting in more than 70 000 casualties including President Adam Benford.” Your mug of hot coffee escaped your hand and crashed onto the floor. Petrified, you could feel your heart pounding loudly in your chest and in your ears. This couldn’t be. “This resulted in the immediate sterilisation of the city in order to eradicate the virus, a military operation that surely remind us of the Raccoon City incident of 1998.” You held on to the kitchen table to provide yourself from falling to the ground. You couldn’t breathe anymore, the air not being able to leave your lungs anymore as a stream of mournful dreary thoughts was drowning you. They ultimately escaped under the shape of tears and loud sobs and moans that made you collapse on the floor. This couldn’t be. You kept repeating to yourself. If something had happened to Leon, someone would have told you. Hunnigan would have called. He was alright. He had to be.

You managed to blindly seize your phone on the table and dialled Leon’s office. Surely, the DSO would know more about all this and be able to comfort you. At least that’s what you hoped. “Come on. Answer damn it!” You cursed, tears streaming down your face. “ Leon Scott Kennedy’s office, how can I help you?” The voice was calm and professional but you managed to discern an ounce of sadness in it that immediately alarmed you more than you already were. “ Hello, it’s Y/N, Leon’s …” You weren’t able to finish the sentence too impatient to know how Leon was doing. “Is he here? Is he alright? I’ve seen the news and…” “Oh my God, Y/N. I thought Agent Hunnigan had called you.” That didn’t sound good and you leaned against the table leg without realising it, unconsciously expecting the bad news, feeling your small gleam of hope slowly dimming. “Leon is dead.”

Nothing else mattered. Time had just stopped the second the sentence was over and your heart had been pulled away from your rib cage along with it. And the pain was excruciating, like a thousand blades piercing your chest. What now? What were you gonna do without Leon in your life? You found yourself unable to answer that question. There was no future now. Nothing. Just void.

Your tears flowed and flowed, a never-ending flood of liquid pearls falling along your cheeks as you were crying your eyes out, begging anyone to bring Leon back to you. There were so many things you didn’t have time to do, so many things you didn’t have time to say. You wished you could go back to yesterday morning, when you were nestled in his strong arms, head over his naked chest. You wished you knew back then that you would never see him again. It would have changed everything and there would be no remorse. You would have prevent him from leaving or at least would have lingered over his face trying to carve each perfect little details of his features in your brain just to be able to forever remember them. You would have said you loved him.

A jingling in the door lock made you jump, and you looked up still on the floor, face and eyes reddened by your cries, your kneels against your chest. You didn’t really think about who could be entering your home and why and just waited for them to find you. “Y/N?” You quickly knelt, eyes widened. That voice. “Leon?” You whispered, relief warming your body. “Baby, you’re here?” You hopped up and ran towards the door, not caring if this was a dream or some fucked up hallucinations. As long as you could see him, that’s all that mattered.

And he was there, standing in the corridor, a duffle bag at his feet. Unscathed and especially alive. “Leon!” You rushed towards him to hold him, touching his whole body with your trembling hands to make sure he was real. “You’re alive. You’re alive.” You repeated, your tears finding their way out of your eyes again as you strongly pecked Leon’s soft lips over and over, hands cupping his neck. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m safe” He managed to say before you cradled yourself against him to embrace him as tightly as you could. “I was scared, so scared. I thought you were dead. They told me you were and …” You breathed in his chest, his smell being the only thing was wanted to breathe right now. “But I told Hunnigan not …” He tried to explain. “I called your office.” Leon briefly shut his eyes, mentally cursing himself as he dared imagine how worried and devastated you certainly had been when his secretary had announced you his death. “I asked Hunnigan to fake my death.” You frowned. What the hell was going on? “Long story.” He caressed your humid cheek, wiping your tears away. “But don’t worry. Everything is under control. But I have to go to China.” “No.” You dared to whisper your disagreement for the first time, refusing to let him go, and your fingers tightened even more around the nape of his neck. “I have to, baby. I have to” You shut Leon up with a new kiss that you secretly wished would make him stay. “I’ll come back. I promise.” He smiled to reassure you, his forehead lightly pressed against yours. “I love you, baby.” “I love you too.” You murmured back, feeling like a weight lifted off your chest as you offered him your heart without condition or fear.

A joyful wide smile stretched Leon’s tired features and his eyes started gleaming in happiness. You had finally said it. After so long. And it was beautiful. It warmed his heart and drowned it in exhilarating bliss as he played back the words in his head. His lips met your forehead and lingered there while his calloused fingers tangled in your hair. “My angel.” He said and you pressed yourself closer against him, looking for safety in his arms. But Leon was in a hurry. He grabbed your chin in between his thumb and index, forcing your to look at him in the eye. “Stay safe, alright? And remember, in the eyes of the government I’m dead.” You nodded, the remnants of your tears shining in your eyes and he kissed you one last time. Then, he reluctantly let go you and grabbed his bag on his way out, watching you one last time bathed by the sunlight in the middle of the corridor. “I’ll be back before you realise I’m gone.” Unlikely but you gave him a faint smile anyway.

And then he closed the door behind him. The lock banged in the frame the same way his heart banged in his chest as a sudden atrocious weight dropped heavily on his chest. So that’s what being loved in return felt like? Like a permanent pressure, a painful yet intoxicating force constantly crushing your heart in fear that you might possibly break the one you love if you happen to fail them. God, how terrible it was and yet how exquisite. Tears formed in Leon’s blue eyes and he glanced back at the door for a second, burdened with the most frightening task he had ever received, protecting your heart at all costs.

And while you stood still behind that same door, terrified to never be able to spend time with Leon again, the man of your life was leaving, scared of love for the first time in his life.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #one shot #answering request

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daisy116 · 4 years ago

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Wtf is a Selfie??

some dousy fluff/ anst for my favs. it’s been sooo long since i’ve written but i worked really hard on this and i hope y’all like it!

please give it sum love and/ or feedback <3!

The team was getting ready for their goodbye dinner together. Just one last night of dinner and drinks, and then they’d go their different ways.

Daisy was obviously feeling emotional, and Sousa knew this. He came to check on her in her room.

He stood outside her door, took a deep breathe, and, in classic Danial Sousa fashion, knocked.

“Come in!”

When he opened the door, her back was to him, and she was struggling with the zipper on her dress.

“Here. Let me help you with that.” he came to help her.

“Oh. Thanks Sousa.” Daisy said. She felt her cheeks turn red.

Sousa hadn’t realized how nice she looked. Her blond hair was in loose waves down her back, and when she turned to face him, he saw she was wearing eyeliner and mascara that made her brown eyes pop. Blush tinted her cheeks.

They locked eyes, and she looked at the floor shyly.

“Thanks”, she practically whispered. Dammit why couldn’t she just act normal around him.

There was an awkward silence. Daniel looked around her room as she studied the floor.

After a moment, he brushed past her to look at the bedside table.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

Daisy followed his gaze. Sitting on her bedside table were three different picture frames and a jewelry box.

The largest picture was a frame hanging on the wall behind the table, the two others sitting in front of it. One was a picture of Daisy and Coulson, beaming at whoever the cameraman (or woman) was. The picture looked fairly recent.

Sousa had picked up the smaller frame. It was an older picture, evident by Daisy’s brunette and banged hair. The picture was obviously taken by someone else, and Daisy was looking at whoever might be to the left of the camera man. There was a man next to her, who was taller and older, and he was looking right into the camera. they were both wearing the same, almost sad looking smile. This is what first tipped Sousa to who this man might be. She took the frame from his hand.

“Cal” and after a beat, “my dad”.

Sousa, in all honesty, didn't know what to say. Just a small “Oh.” spilled his mouth.

Daisy had never talked about her dad. She had told Sousa about her mom, Jiaying, but not much outside of the story that she had shared with him about her suffering at the hands of Whitehall.

“He um,” she was obviously trying to find the right words. Did she even want to go down this path with him?

After a moment of thinking, she said, “he killed my mom… to save me”.

Another “Oh” from Sousa.

“Daisy, I’m so sor-”

“No, it's fine. I-” she quickly blinked away tears, “it was a while ago.” there was a beat, and then,

“Plus it was nice to talk to her again. And I wouldn't have without you… you giving me a little push.” she was smiling fondly now. She put the picture back.

“About that. I was going to apologize. i feel bad, i could tell it was hard for you and then what happened next-”

“No, no. i-” she turned to smile at him. “I was glad.” she reassured him.

She hadn't realized how close they were to each other. “Thanks for that”, she said in a whisper.

Their eyes locked, and she could feel herself blushing under his gaze. Her back ended up against the table, him facing her and the rest of the pictures. He was smiling at her, they were moving closer to each other, Daisy looked down at his lips, and-

“Is that the rest of the team?” he wasn't looking at her anymore, but in fact the largest picture frame hanging on the wall behind her.

She sighed to herself and closed her eyes.

In it was a picture of the team, Coulson, May, Jemma, Fitz, Yo-yo, Mack, a taller woman, and another man were all beaming at the camera. Again, Sousa could tell the picture was older from Daisy's hair, which was now in a dark bob. She was standing in the middle of everyone, holding the camera.

“Uh yea,” Daisy smiled to herself about how awkward he was. What a dork.

“That's Bobbi. And that's Hunter.” she said, pointing at the respective characters.

“They were all part of SHIELD at one point. We were pretty close.” she was smiling fondly now.

She snapped out of her memories that flooded back to her to glance up at Sousa, who, to her surprise, was studying the picture intently.

She looked at the picture, then back to him, then back to the picture again, trying to figure out what was irking him.

“Whatt are you looking at?” she said, a teasing tone in her voice.

“How was this taken? Are you holding the camera? Wouldn’t that be heavy?”

She tried her best to stifle her laugh. She felt bad giggling at him, but she couldn't help it, he was such an old man.

“Uhh yeah. It's called a selfie. Here, i’ll show you.”

She took her phone out of her back pocket and opened the camera app. She held the phone up and moved closer to him in order to fit them both into the small frame. She blushed as she felt his hand snake around her waist.

“Smile,” she told him

With a *click* she had taken the picture. She brought the phone down to inspect the selfie to her liking.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sousa do the same. Again, her face filled with heat as she felt how close he was. His hand was still around her waist.

“We look-,” he hesitated to find the right word, “we look good.” and a pause,

“You look good”.

She blushed. Hard.

“Thanks”, she said, smiling up at him. Their faces were once again close to each other, and the spot where his hand reached touched a bit of skin on her waist seemed to be on fire. Again, they leaned closer. She wanted to kiss him so bad she could scream-

“Hey guys were about to- ohhh what's going on in here!?” Came a British voice from the door. Simmons.

Sousa quickly ducked his head to hide his smile. Daisy turned to face her, embarrassment written all over her face. But she was smiling.

“Yea uhh. We’re about ready.” she said as she busied herself finding her necklace on the table next to the picture she had just put down.

Simmons backed out of the door to leave, sharing a smile with Sousa. He was also obviously a little embarrassed, but a quick wink from the doctor reassured him.

He smiled at the floor. He was glad he had found some friends in this weird place. Plus he had met Daisy, which was obviously going well-

“Do you think you could help me put this on?” Daisy asked him.

“Course.” he answered.

Even when their hands touched when slipping the necklace between them Daisy’s stomach flipped flopped. She turned around and moved her long hair out of the way.

He clasped the necklace around her neck.

She hurried herself with getting her shoes on, and Sousa struggled to put what he wanted to say to her in words. It took Daisy to get to her second shoe (white nike air forces, very practical) until he spoke.

“I know you've been hurt and i- i just wanted to let you know that i'm here for you. To talk i mean.” he mustered out.

She paused, still looking at her shoelace. Shit he thought. He had gone too far. Too fast. Too fast.

She finally looked up at him. God why was it so hard to read her facial expression. He had overstepped, he felt it-

She smiled. It was faint. But it was there. She stood and brushed herself off, shoelace forgotten. She paused before starting.

“Yeah its- its been a hard run these last couple of years. I've lost-” she paused to catch her breath- “I've lost, i don't even know how many people. People I care about. People i- i love.”

He glanced away at this. Mack had mentioned a boyfriend when they were talking about his own ex, Peggy, the other day. Lincoln, he remembered.

Before he could say anything else, she took a step closer. But instead of leaning in for a kiss, she put her head on his shoulder. A hug. That she desperately needed.

He hugged her back and closed his eyes. He desperately needed this. They had both gone through a lot, their hearts were worn. But they had each other, and they were grateful. They stood there for a minute, but it felt like seconds until they were interrupted, again.

A loud pounding came from the door, making them both jump.

“Come on guys, no funny business. We need to go soon.” it was Mack.

Daisy rolled her eyes and she pulled away. They both giggled, and she went to her closet for a purse.

When she had gotten all her things together, she reached for the door handle.

“Daisy, wait.” Sousa called after her.

“Yeah?” she turned to smile at him.

“Uhh. your shoes untied” he smiled down at it.

“Oh! Thanks.” she laughed in embarrassment.

She swooped down to tie her shoe, and when she straightened up, he was standing closer then he was before.

Without a word, they leaned in to kiss.

Their lips met softly, and she hardened it by leaning in.

She got lost in his lips, his touch. She closed her eyes and forgot about the world, the dinner, mack and simm- shit. The dinner.

She reluctantly pulled away.

“That was nice,” she said, her eyes still closed, “but we need to go.”

“Right.”

They walked out of her room, hand in hand. Both with a giddy smile on their faces.

#agents of shield #daisy johnson #daniel sousa #daisysousa #dousy #agents of shield ending #chloe bennet #enver gjokaj #daisy johnson fic #dousy fic #agents of shield fic #gif by me

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harrysgloves · 4 years ago

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Let Your Hair Down (chapter xv)

Get caught up with the Let Your Hair Down Masterlist!

word count: 1,762

story summary: Harry gets more than he bargains for when he falls not only for you but your little girl as well.

chapter summary: plans change

warnings: laaaaanguage..

a/n: okay I desperately needed a happy MC and Harry in this one after the last chapter so excuse me while I go cry over how cute these two can be. okay that’s it. xx

>>><<<

You'd never walked home so fast in your life. Basically running with Thea in your arms towards your apartment building. You didn't want to be paranoid but you had no idea that Ryan knew where you worked. You wouldn't put it past him to know where you lived too.

Luckily, Thea had no problem being carried home from school. She hung onto your hip, arms around your neck, telling you all about her day at school. She didn't notice anything wrong with you besides the marks on your arm. You hated lying to her but you didn't want to involve her in any adult problems. Telling her you had an accident and she left the subject alone.

"Momma, can we call Harry?" Thea asked when you finally got into your apartment. You felt like you were finally able to breathe again when you locked all 3 of your door locks. A weight of anxiety being lifted off you, knowing Ryan couldn't break through 3 locks and your front door to get in.

"We'll call him in a minute." You said, walking with Thea to the kitchen. She sat her backpack on the table, pulling out her picture for Harry as you rummaged through your bare fridge to see if there was anything for you two to have for dinner tonight.

"Pizza?" You asked, shutting the fridge door once you saw it was a losing battle for dinner that night. You were too frazzled to even eat but you had to do something for Thea.

"Yes! I want extra cheese." Thea sang out her agreement, pulling out her folder of homework and getting started on it. You smiled, happy she actually liked school and you didn't have to fight with her the whole time to do her work.

"Alright, let me go order then we'll call Harry." You grabbed your phone, plopping on your couch, surprised you hadn't had any more texts from Ryan but considering it a blessing as you placed the usual order to your favorite pizza place.

Once you got off the phone you scrolled to Harry's contact. The picture of Thea and him from a little over a month ago shining bright, making you smile. So much had changed since then. You felt like you'd open yourself up so much to being happy again and now your past was sneaking up on you.

You sighed before clicking the facetime button. You knew you needed to tell someone about what happened with Ryan but you couldn't go there yet. You just wanted to forget it, pushing it to the back of your mind when Harry's wide smiling face appeared on your screen.

"Hey, I've missed ya love." His smile was contagious, making the bad day melt away from your thoughts. He had such a great way of making your anxieties fade just by being around.

"Missed you too, so much." You sighed, just wanting him to give you a hug. Long-distance sucked and it wasn't even 12 hours apart. You tried your best to not think about all of your doubts about your newly formed relationship but the look on your face must have been enough to concern him.

"Wat's wrong?"

"Nothing, just a rough day. I need a hug." You sighed again, sitting back further on the couch when you heard Thea running from the kitchen.

"Harry!" She yelled jumping on the couch to be able to see him on your phone. Her face inches away from the screen so you couldn't see his face anymore but could hear him laughing.

"Hey, sunshine. How was school?" He asked, your phone taken from your hands as Thea held it herself to talk to him.

"Good. Van asked me to be his girlfriend again but I think I'm going to ask Will if he'll be my boyfriend cause he shared his crayons with me today." She blurted out, making you laugh from beside her. Knowing the response to this was going to be priceless.

"Yer not allowed to date til yer 35." He huffed out, not finding it funny at all but making you crack up.

"Yeah no dating Thea!" You heard Mitch call out from a distance.

"Thea, stop giving Uncle Mitch and Harry blood pressure spikes. Go work on your homework." You rolled your lips when you saw her confused look on her face but she eventually agreed and handed you back the phone.

"Y'still coming Friday right?" He asked the second your face came back into view.

"Might come out tomorrow if that's okay. I got some time off and Thea doesn't have any tests this week or anything so…" you trailed off, not wanting to tell him the reason you wanted to come out sooner was because you were scared to stay alone or walk around the city by yourself.

"Really?" That stupid heartwarming dimpled smile back on his face, wider than ever. You nodded, trying your best to contain your excitement. You needed this vacation, time away from all the shit going on.

"I'll see ya tomorrow then, love."

It was probably the longest flight of your whole entire life. The whole time Thea was bouncing in her seat asking how much longer. Every time you answered with the time left she'd then lean over the poor guy beside you and look out the window. Then she'd play on her iPad for 2 seconds before repeating it all again… for 6 hours.

The guy beside you ran like a fire was lit under his ass to get off the plane and honestly you couldn't blame him. As cute as your kid could be she definitely had her moments when she was a bit much.

You understood her excitement though. You were so ready to ignore all your problems for a week, to reset and get away from everything. It was much needed. The thought of relaxing away from the stress of Ryan, who still hadn't bothered you since he showed up to your job, and the thousands of people now practically stalking you online was great.

Your mind filled with all the things you and Thea could do in California as you made your way through the airport. You repeatedly had to remind Thea that she had to hold your hand and not run off to stores as you two pushed through people to get to where Harry said he'd be waiting for you two.

You only managed to get lost once on the way there but the swarm of people eventually signalled where you guys needed to go. You sighed, pulling Thea close, debating if getting back on the plane was an option instead of dealing with all these people looking at you and Harry.

Thea on the other hand had no fear as she caught sight of Harry. She let go of your hand and charged towards him. The bodyguards you'd never had to be around before in New York perking up the second she started yelling for him and waving her hands.

"Harry! Harry!" She yelled, running full force to him causing the protective people around him to turn towards the sound.

You thought you were about to have to go a thousand shades of psycho on some bald asshole, racing after her, trying to get to her before someone touched your fucking kid and you'd have to whoop ass in front of all these cameras.

Harry's head snapped around to you guys as you got closer. Thea not listening at all to your demands to stop as she got closer to him and your protective mother mode kicked. Not only was everyone now looking at you but the fear of someone taking her or some asshole bodyguard touching her to get her away from Harry made your stomach turn.

"Whoa." Harry grabbed the guy standing beside him shoulder before he even had a chance to step in front of him. "She's mine, it's fine."

The sentence made him stop in your tracks. Did you hear him right? Did he really just say that?

You slowly walked the rest of the way toward him as Thea flung herself into his arms and giving him a hug like she hadn't seen him in a year. You smiled softly but was very aware of everyone still standing around you when you finally approached him.

"Hey." He said all laughs and smiles like he didn't just call your child his own a second ago. How the fuck were you supposed to be okay after that? You weren't sure how to feel about it but as you stood watching them together you couldn't help the tugging feeling in your heart that this was right.

"Hey." You smiled back finally giving him the hug you've needed. Thea still hanging onto him as his one arm pulled you in tightly to him.

"Let's get out 'f 'ere." He smiled down to you, dimple popping out when you nodded your head.

The three of you made your way out of the airport together. His free arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder as his other one kept Thea on his hip.

You sighed the second you got in the car and away from all the people staring at you. California felt like a different planet compared to New York. You weren't used to all the attention.

"Jus' ignore it. No one'll bother y'guys. It dies down sum jus' not used to me havin' two cuties with me." He kissed your cheek, causing Thea to snap her attention to you two.

Harry's eyes widened the second he realized he'd been caught. Your laughter erupted from you but Thea looked more confused than ever.

"Why'd you kiss momma?" She asked sitting up straighter in your seat. "Does this mean you're her boyfriend?"

His eyes looked like they were going to actually pop out of his head. You thought you could see him actually start to sweat. You had to give yourself a moment to stop laughing as Harry sat like a deer in headlights.

"Is that okay?" You asked, finally turning to her.

She just smiled brightly nodding her head. Dropping the subject completely when the car started moving.

"Holy shit. She's goin' t'give me a heart attack one 'f these days."

"You have to pay the curse jar!" She piped up again, not taking her eyes off the window.

You laughed sitting back in your seat leaning your head on Harry's shoulder as he grumbled under his breath. The smile not leaving your face as things finally felt good in your life.

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles x Reader #Harry Styles x You #Harry Styles x Y/N #Harry Styles Fanfic #Harry Styles Fanfiction #Fanfic #fanfiction #writing #mine #LYHD

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years ago

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PROMPT

Che “Taza” Romero x Reader

@stardust1978 asked: I wanted to request a Dialogue Prompt #5 under Angst with Taza when you are taking requests again. Thank you :)

Prompt: “My heart tells me to kiss you, my head tells me to walk away”.

Word Count: 2.6k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @arved 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Who said ‘ride or die’ for first time, surely he knew you, because ride is your life.

“Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?”

“She came from nowhere! I didn't see her!”

It wasn't true. Once your helmet is on, your motorbike and you are one. There's no difference, as if you got melted with it when you turn the engine. You know every single inch of Cali's asphalt. You know every traffic light, every signal, every road, every street, every city, every single driver. You didn't come from nowhere, but he was looking his phone when he crossed the corner's avenue. He didn't see you, that's true. But you came from Sunset Boulevard with Figeroa street. You was driving fast, as always, but respecting the limit.

You were lying on the ground, upside down, when you realized that you couldn't move your right leg. You couldn't even feel pain. As the orders of your brain reached the toes of the left foot, the right foot didn't respond. Nothing. Breathing fast, you were drowning into agonizing coughs. You're a nomad. You know every single bone of your anatomy. You know what's broken, you know what's fragmented and you know what's twisted. You're choking because of the blood filling your lungs, for a splintered rib. And only when you hear the sound of an ambulance sirens, you let yourself go.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

A hard headache is lashing your whole body, growling slightly whilst feeling some long fingers tangling into yours. You know their touch pretty well, you don't even need to open your eyes to confirm it. Those fingertips have traveled through your skin so many times you lost the count long time ago. They hold yours tightly, with a trembling and cracked lips kissing every one, every knuckle and the wrist. You're sleepy, coughing for a while and raising your free hand to your belly when a bitter twinge hits it. You don't need to ask where you are, 'cause you know it at the exact moment you notice your right leg immobilized hanging of the metal structure of the bed.

Feeling weak and decayed, you turn your face at him, opening your eyes so slowly. The man drags his chair a little bit closer, leaning above the hospital bed to leave some dearly kisses on your forehead while your free sleepy hands toured your stomach till reaching his nape. It's been a long time since you saw him in Santo Padre. And even if you think he betrayed you, Taza still being the most important person in your life. And he will always be.

You met him sixteen years ago in Santa Madre, when you were almost fifteen. You stole a loaf of bread. You didn't have family, nor money, nor a job. You were a child suffering the poverty of the Mexican border. And as a fallen angel from heaven, he found you. He was running away too.

He saved you and you saved him.

Taza taught you every single thing you know today. About animals, about guns, about motorbikes and mechanic, about how to be silent, about fighting. He welcomed you in his ranch, he gave you a family and he brought you back to life.

“What ha—happened?” You mutter feeling high because of the morphine.

“A guy missed a traffic light and hit you”. He says licking his lips, choosing the correct words.

“And wh—what happened to me?” His sigh is more painful that have every bone of your body broken.

“A rib pierced your left lung, but you're okay now, cariño”.

“And what abo—about my leg?”

The Mayan doesn't know how to tell you. Isn't that bad, actually. But riding is your life.

“Femur fracture”. He can't lie to you. At least, not a second time since you met.

You turn your neck and face to the opposite side, feeling awake suddenly. You know what it's means. Your eyes filled with tears and your heart racing. The sanitary machines starts to beep louder, claiming the attention of some nurses who come to try to control your pulse.

“I'm ok—okay! Fuckin' leave me!” You cry squeezing over the bed, while Taza tries to hug you.

“Sh, (Y/N). Calm down, calm down. Everything is gonna be fine. Sleep a little more...” He whispers on your eyes, watching sideway how a doctor inject a whitish liquid into the line connected to your wrist.

You let yourself go again, between Che's strong arms, making you feel as if you were at home again.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

He explained you that you fell with your knee slightly curled and that was why you broke it. Luckily, in Los Angeles didn't wait for transferred you to San Diego, to make the surgery necessary. After one day unconscious, they flew you in helicopter to Santo Padre. And even if Taza told you that you could walk again and drive your motorbike, you couldn't help but feel anxious, terrified and mournful.

It was one long month in the hospital, receiving visitors every day from Stockton, Charming, Tijuana, Mexico... Even from the charters of Connecticut and Pennsylvania. You didn't used to talk a lot, mostly some words and some sentences. You were submerged on a gloomy environment, crying all the time because of the pain and the rage of being bedridden. Taza slept with you every night, before complaining all day about his back hurting with Bishop and Tranq. But he would do anything for you. Anything.

After the high medical and all the information the doctors gave you for the home life and rehabilitation, you agreed with the idea of coming back to the ranch. Actually, Taza as the stubborn man he is and Bishop as the president of your charter, forced you. They didn't give you any options. So you just ‘agreed’. Your next six month were going to be summed in the first one to rest, the next four going two times per day to the hospital and the last one trying to walk by your own. Feeling pain and agony with every step until you can make it disappear, by following the recommendations.

You used to be laid on the bed with the blinds half down, holding tightly your black leather vest against your chest, feeling that it was your only hope to wake everyday. Of course, there are things in life worse than a femur fracture, but for you it was painful in a psychologically speaking way. The doctors recommended the crew and your friends to talk you about day-life, happy situations or whatever that didn't let you think about it, so you could avoid a depression and harmful thoughts. So when Mayans came to visit you at the ranch, sitting by a side of your bed or lying next to you, they were always trying make you laugh and talk. But you couldn't. You were like a scared child believing that the sheets were shields that protected you about any hurt.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Opening your eyes, rolling over the mattress, hearing some whispers outside of your room that won't let you sleep. Your heart race, getting up on your palms, when you can't find your vest on it. You look for it on the floor, behind the blankets, behind the pillows. Nothing. With a lot of effort you move your whole and heavy body to the wheelchair next to the bed, supporting your arms on it with a growl drowned in your throat. Rolling your fingers above the wheels faster than you can think, you go towards the door opening it loud and making it crash to the wall. Following the hallway to the living room, the voices stir anxiously. Tran and Gilly are blocking your gaze to the huge table, where you used to meet al the Mayans for a lunch, a dinner or an impromptu meeting.

“Look at you! You did it by yourself!” Angel is very proud, leaning towards you before your able to kick his crotch with your good leg, making him fall to the floor between whinings and sobs.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, karate kid!” Creeper holds your shoulders, while EZ press his hands on your tights and on your left leg, to avoid the fact that you hit them too.

“Where's my kutte?! What are you doin'?!” You shout with your eyes filled with tears, stirring to loosen from the grips.

“Cariño, calm down”. Then you hear his voice, appearance behind the big guys in front of you.

“You, fuckin' traitor! You're doin' it again! I fuckin' hate you, bastard!” You want to kill him, yelling full of rage while the tears run through your cheeks soaking the shirts.

“Fuck, (Y/N)! Calm yo' fuckin' self!” Angel growls trying to getting up from the floor.

“Bishop, please! I'll ride again! I'll soon”. Your cry gets louder seeing how the man is cutting a patch of your vest, between Tranq and Gilly, above the table. “It's the only thing I have! Please, don't!”

The president doesn't say a word knowing how much you're suffering and don't giving a shit about it. Riz leans close to you, slapping him when he tries to clean your tears.

“Don't fuckin' touch me!” You scream at him totally mad, squeezing on the wheelchair and trying to get up of it.

“Jesus Christ, calm down!” He says somewhat scared.

“I earned it! I did it! Please! Don't take it away!”

You feel like the air is leaving your lungs and your mouth when Bishop holds the kutte on air having a look of it, before starting to walk towards you. And when you're able to grab it, you do it holding it tightly on your chest, raising your gaze confused. He makes a soft move with his chin, pulling a way some inches the vest to see the new patch. The “nómada” one isn't there anymore, having been changed for “Miembro de honor”. Gasping not knowing exactly what to say, you hold it close again.

“It's the only thing I have...” You mutter with trembling lips.

“We know”. Bishop says bending down to leave a kiss on your forehead with a hand placed on your nape. “No one is gonna take it away, querida. But at least, I made you go out of your room”.

“Yea', the kick was worth it”. Angel says with a hoarse voice rubbing his crotch.

You can't help but smiling for first time after long months, when Creeper and EZ let you go. Riz helps you to wear it, putting it well on. It looks good on you, better than ever and you're starting to feel blissful again.

“We decided to have a day off, here with you. And we bought you free alcohol beer, so you can drink too”. EZ says almost singing, making you chuckle. “And pops' meat for the barbecue”.

Sounds good. Really good. So you nod without doubting pulling away some hair bristles behind your ears.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

You can't remember when was the last time you had so much fun with your true family. Vicki came too with some of your friends and Letti, who turned out to be better than you expected, after Coco told you so much about her. And even if you didn't want the day to end, you were waiting for it, so you could be alone with Taza and tell him that you were sorry about what you said early morning.

After all the goodbyes, and the apache bringing you back to the inside, you turn at him with some effort on the wheelchair. Placing both hands on your lap and pursing your lips, your gaze travels looking his.

“I didn't me—”.

“It doesn't matter”. He interrupts you, passing you away to let his body fall down on the nearest sofa.

Turning again, you guides yourself to him, insisting about it.

“I'm sorry, Che”.

“God, forget it, (Y/N)”. Rolling his eyes, he lies his head against the back of the sofa.

“No, 'cause I know it hurt you. And it's not fair”. You continue, getting up of the chair to jump with the other leg by his side.

He doesn't say anything when you wrap his neck with both arms, hugging him. Taza only clicks his tongue, slicing a hand between your back and the sofa to put you closer, holding you against himself. Resting your face on his chest, closing your eyes, yes, it's feels like you're at home again.

“You know what?” You say almost in a whisper.

“What?”

“My heart tells me to kiss you, but my head tells me to walk away”. It's not a secret, but sounds like. And you're not ashamed of recognizing it.

“You can't walk, idiot”.

You chuckle shaking your head, raising it to him, touching his cheek with your nose.

“Don't leave me again, please”. He sighs rubbing his forehand. “I know I fucked up things with that... chick. But I truly love you and I'm gonna regret all my life for hurting you”.

“Just... give me some time”.

“The one you need, I could wait all my life”. Pressing his lips on yours in a smooth kiss, you travel one of your hand towards a side of his neck.

The love you feel for him has never disappear, not even when you tried so hard to hate him when you became a nomad just to run away from all the sorrow he provoked you three years ago, a winter cold night when you arrived of a two weeks travel with the Stockton charter. By that time, you were going through some trouble and each one had a different way of facing it, instead of remaining together.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

It's been almost six month since the accident and everything has changed. Taza is driving his bike, with you by his back, towards the clubhouse. You called Bishop before to meet the crew on the front yard. You didn't tell him why, having a little surprise for them. So when you finally come and the guys are waiting you there, EZ is the one who notices that you're not carrying the crutches, drawing a big smile on his face and palming his brother's chest before pointing at you.

Taking off the helmet and giving it to Taza, proud-hearted of what are you going to do, you practically jump out of the motorbike. You can see every reaction on every face. They're happy and a little shocked when you put your right foot on the floor. You're walking without help. And even if you feel a little pain yet, there's nothing that could stop you now. You're like a child giving her first steps. Limping very slightly, you open both arms.

“What's up, guys?! Cat got your tongues?!” You laugh happily going towards them.

Bishop is the first one who holds you in his arms when you're close enough, laughing too for your feat.

“You did it, querida”. He says, and you're sure the president is about to cry.

“I told you!”

“Are you gonna kick me again, if I try to touch you, mi dulce?” Angel walks somewhat closer with a funny gesture on his face, before hugging him.

“The doc' said I could ride in two weeks, but I'm gonna wait another one, just in case”. You inform them, with Angel's left arm on your shoulders. “So, where's my bike?”

“Resting too”. Taza says then, kissing your cheek. “Waiting for you”.

#mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #taza romero x reader #che taza romero x reader #taza romero imagine #taza romero

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thebrotherssalvatore321 · 4 years ago

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Keeping Secrets Ch. 3

Keeping Secrets Masterlist

Pairing: Damonxoc at first, Tylerxoc for a hot minute, Elijahxoc for a hotter minute, KlausxOc endgame. Warnings: Abuse. A/N: Damon is out of character in the beginning, but it gets better I promise.

The next morning Katie woke up, threw a black tank top and red shorts into her school bag and started down stairs. When she got to the bottom she was met by her grandpa’s angry face. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” she asked, not knowing what he was still doing home when he usually left before the sun even came up.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what this is about.” He practically growled at her. The furious look in his dark brown eyes made her take a step back up the stairs.

“I swear. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, taking another step back.

"Really?" He asked taking a menacing step toward her. "So you didn't let a boy into your bedroom window last night?"

"No, I didn’t." She answered with stiffened shoulders and clenched teeth.

He glared at her then the next thing she knew the back of his hand collided with the side of her face, hitting her so hard that her glasses went flying and she fell to the floor. "I will not have a whore living under my roof again." He leaned down and grabbed her face in his large hand, squeezing too tight. "Don't you ever pull that shit again or I'll do more than give you a little slap." He stood up and massaged his hand. "Now get your sorry ass out of my sight."

She picked herself and her glasses up off the floor and rushed to her car. She didn't bother checking her face until she pulled up at the school and parked. The first thing her eyes landed on was a bright red spot in the white of her left eye. She took her glasses off and leaned closer to see that a blood vessel in her eye had popped. "Awesome." She sighed and put her glasses back on, then noticing the very slight tinge of pink on her cheek.

She could only hope that no one noticed so that she wouldn't have to come up with a lie. Finally because she couldn't put it off any longer she hopped out of the car and headed over to Elena and Bonnie who had walked past her. "Is this the whole witch mojo thing again?" Elena asked Bonnie as Katie walked up to them.

"What about witch mojo?" Katie asked as she pushed the strap of her bag further up on her shoulder.

"Bonnie touched Stefan and got a bad feeling." Elena filled her in. "She thinks I should slow things down with him."

"Maybe you should listen to her." Katie said with a shrug. "I mean her feelings have been really accurate here lately." Katie gave Bonnie a smile that told her that she wasn’t making fun.

"Not you too." Elena groaned.

"We’re just concerned." Bonnie summed it up.

"And I love you two for it." She told them as she placed a hand on each of their shoulders then let them go. "But I feel good. It's been a hard year and I'm kinda starting to feel like things are getting back to normal again. Stefan’s a big part of that."

Katie and Bonnie were sharing a look of concern when Stefan walked up. "I'm gonna try to call Caroline. She’s not answering her phone." Bonnie said as she started walking off.

"Yeah, I don’t have an excuse, but I'm gonna go too." Katie said with motion to the school over her shoulder.

"Katie don't-" Elena started.

"See you later." Katie cut Elena off as she walked away.

Due to Katie having to spend lunch time in the math room getting help with what she couldn't understand during the actual class, Katie didn't see Elena or Bonnie until after school, during cheer practice.

Bonnie and Katie were doing stretches when Elena showed up. "Oh my God! You're here." Bonnie yelled as she hopped up and hugged Elena.

"Yeah we didn't think you'd actually show." Katie said as she looked around. "Speaking of no shows, where's Caroline? She never misses practice."

"I don’t know. I haven't talked to her all day." Bonnie answered looking around for Caroline.

"Change of subject." Elena said, getting her friends attention. "You two are coming to dinner tonight."

"We are?" Bonnie and Katie asked at the same time.

"Mmhmm." Elena said as they all sat down and started stretching again. "You two, me and Stefan."

"I don't think Grandpa is gonna go for that." Katie said avoiding eye contact with her friend.

"Yeah tonight's not good." Bonnie tried to get out of it too.

"You can sneak out, you do it all the time. Your grandpa’s oblivious." Elena pointed at her and Katie couldn’t help but think about how bad she would get beaten if her grandpa found out about her sneaking out. Elena then pointed at Bonnie, "and you're just trying to get out of it. You're coming, both of you."

"Fine." Bonnie sighed.

Elena turned to Katie with expectant eyes. "I'll see what I can do."

"Seriously, where is Caroline?" Bonnie asked as she grabbed her phone and speed dialed Caroline.

"I don't know. It's not like her." Elena said with a shrug as they heard a car drive up.

"Um, is that Caroline?" Katie asked as a light blue, convertible Camaro parked near them and Katie recognized the driver as Damon. "With Damon Salvatore?"

The three girls stood up as they watched Caroline kiss Damon. "Salvatore, as in Stefan?" Bonnie asked.

"Yeah." Katie answered not looking away from Damon where he still sat in his car wearing sunglasses.

"Wait, how do you know Damon?" Elena asked Katie.

"I met him at the grill the other night." Katie shrugged as if it were no big deal.

Caroline came walking up, "I got the other brother." She said proudly as she walked through the group of friends and looked at Elena, "hope you don't mind." She stood at the front of the group of cheerleaders and started barking out orders. Katie noticed Damon looking at Elena. It wasn't until she looked away that Damon turned his eyes to Katie and gave her a wink. She glared at him with flared nostrils. “Katie!” Caroline snapped getting Katie’s attention. “Are you deaf? Get into formation.” She tore her eyes from the ever smirking Damon and did as Caroline demanded.

Katie didn’t fail to notice the scarf around Caroline’s neck or how snotty she was being to Elena. She knew that Caroline felt like she had gotten one up on Elena. She understood how it felt to constantly feel like Elena got everything, but Caroline was taking it to a whole other level of bitch.

After practice was over Katie headed home and showered. Thankfully her grandpa wasn’t home, so she could relax as she styled her hair, dressed in a white t-shirt, her black leather jacket, denim jeans and black knee high boots. She finished the look off with a little smudged eyeliner, mascara and clear lip gloss. Her grandpa was driving up as she pulled her car out of the driveway. She knew if he wasn’t drunk when she came home that she would be getting another thrashing. She would just have to cross that bridge when she came to it.

When she got to Elena’s she saw that Bonnie’s car was already parked outside. So she let herself into Elena’s like she had done for as long as she could remember. “Hey, guys!” Katie called seeing that they weren’t in the living room.

“Hey, we’re here!” Elena called and Katie followed the direction of her voice to the kitchen.

“Today I’m obsessed with numbers.” Bonnie was saying as Katie walked in. “Three numbers. I keep seeing 8, 14 and 22. How weird is that?” Katie sat down on the bar stool across the island from the two other girls.

“Maybe we should play the lottery.” Elena quipped, earning a glare from bonnie. “Have you talked to your grams?”

“No. She’s just gonna say it’s because I’m a witch. I don’t want to be a witch. Would you guys want to be a witch?” Bonnie asked with a look between her friends.

“I don’t wanna be a witch.” Elena answered with a grossed out look on her face.

“I don’t know. It sounds like it could be fun.” Katie answered with a shrug of her shoulders as she looked over the bar at the pasta that Elena was pouring into a glass bowl from a take out container.

“You know putting it in a nice bowl isn’t fooling anybody.” Bonnie and Katie laughed as Elena smiled and shook her head.

“Where are the serving spoons?” Elena asked looking around the kitchen.

“Middle drawer on the left.” Bonnie answered quickly.

Elena looked and they were there. “Okay, so you’ve been in this kitchen a thousand times.”

“Yeah…that’s it.” Bonnie said with a roll of her eyes as the doorbell rang.

“Okay, he’s here.” Elena said perking up as she turned to Bonnie. “Don’t be nervous. Just be your normal, loving self.” She then turned to Katie and scrunched up her nose. “And you…don’t be weird.”

Katie started laughing. “But that’s my best quality.” Elena just gave her a smirk and a pointed look over her shoulder as she headed for the door. Katie then turned to Bonnie who still looked a little freaked out over the serving spoon incident. “Okay, so experiment time.” She hopped down off of the stool and went around the island to where Bonnie was standing. “Tell me what’s in this drawer.” She pointed to the one that was right in front of Bonnie.

Bonnie concentrated then said, “Birthday candles.” When she pulled out the drawer a brand new pack of birthday candles sat on top of the other contents.

“I think you just need to accept the fact that you’re a witch.” Katie patted Bonnie on the shoulder then grabbed the bowls of food and brought them to the dining table.

They were in the middle of an awkward conversation revolving around Bonnie and her witchy heritage when they heard the doorbell ring. Elena went to answer it leaving the three to sit at the table staring down at their plates. “Surprise.” They heard Caroline at the door and Katie looked at Bonnie.

“Did you tell her about tonight?” she asked and Bonnie shook her head no and shrugged. Stefan left the table to see what was up.

After Damon and Caroline came inside they all moved to the living room where they started talking. Katie, no matter how badly she wanted to glare at Damon and Caroline where she sat on Damon’s lap, forced herself to smile along with the conversation. But when the topic turned to Elena coming back to the cheer squad the damn holding back Katie’s growing anger at Caroline started to break. “Elena wasn’t so lucky today. It’s only because you missed summer camp.” Caroline said smiling at Elena. “God, I don’t know how you’re ever going to learn the routines.”

“We’ll work with her. She’ll get it.” Bonnie spoke up with a look at Katie then another at Elena.

“I guess I can put her in the back.” Caroline kept going, pretending to be in thought about what to do with Elena. It was really grating on Katie’s nerves.

“You don’t really seem like the cheerleader type, Elena.” Damon said, hoping to be able to get Elena to talk.

But Caroline kept going, “Oh, it’s just because her parents died. Yeah, I mean, she’s just totally going through a blah phase. She used to be way more fun.”

The damn broke and Katie stood up from where she sat in the armchair near the one Caroline and Damon sat on. “Okay, I think you and I need to have a little chat.” She grabbed Caroline by her arm and pulled her outside, ignoring Caroline’s protests.

“What the hell Katie?” Caroline asked as Katie shut the front door.

“Me what the hell?” Katie asked, pointing to herself with a hand on her chest. “No you what the hell? Just because you’re dating Damon doesn’t mean you get to act like a complete and total bitch. Just because you got the hotter Salvatore brother you think you’re so much better than everyone else. I know you always feel like you’re in competition with Elena, I get it, I do too. But it’s not her fault and you don’t need to rub her face in it.”

“You know what? You’re just jealous that you didn’t get either of the Salvatore brothers.” Caroline told her with a glare.

“Yeah?” Katie asked as she grabbed the scarf around Caroline’s neck and jerked it off. “Why would I want someone that would do that to my neck?” she asked with a point to the bite mark on Caroline’s neck. “Why would I want to be a loose bitch like you?”

“At least I’m not a virginal prude!” Caroline yelled as she jerked the scarf out of Katie’s hand and frantically started putting it back around her neck.

Before she could finish Katie saw red and slapped Caroline across the face. Caroline stared at her, mouth agape before she grabbed Katie’s hair and yanked. Damon and Stefan rushed out of the house after the girls knocked over a vase, shattering it across the porch, and easily pulled the fighting girls apart. Damon held back Katie while Stefan held back Caroline. “What’s the matter with you guys?” Elena asked her friends with wide eyes.

“Let go of me, Damon.” Katie said, ignoring Elena, as she looked over her shoulder at Damon where he stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her stomach, holding her tightly against him. He gave her a smirk as he took his arms off of her. She straightened her hair and clothes as best she cold then walked over to Elena, past a glaring Caroline. “I’m sorry I ruined the night. I’ll buy you a new vase.” She then turned to Bonnie, Damon and Stefan who had let go of Caroline. “Good night.” She left them and got into her car hoping that her grandpa wasn’t going to be home when she got there.

TVDTVDTVD

"Where'd you run off to?" Her grandpa was waiting for her on the porch when she drove up.

"I went to Elena's, we had dinner and studied." She answered seeing the beer in his hand. Unfortunately he wasn't drunk, just buzzed. Her bad night was about to get worse.

"Why should I believe you?" He asked, getting up from the porch swing.

"Because it's the truth." She stiffened as he walked slowly over to her where she stood at the door.

"When do you ever tell the truth?" He asked as he grabbed her upper arm, digging his nails into her skin hard enough to hurt, but not pierce the skin. He pulled the door open and dragged her inside. "You went to his house didn't you?"

"Who are you talking about?" She asked with her face twisted in pain.

"You know who I'm talking about you little whore." He threw her onto the floor and she was just happy he was no longer touching her.

"If you don't believe me call Jenna." Elena's aunt Jenna wasn't even there, but Katie knew Jenna was cool. Even if Katie hadn't been there Jenna would cover for her.

"Get your sorry ass out of my sight." He scoffed and grabbed the cordless phone off the arm of the couch.

Katie practically ran up the stairs to her room where she slammed the door and flopped back on her bed. After catching her breath she sat up, turned her stereo on and lowered the volume. Tonight she didn't feel like writing in her journal, so she got straight to homework. It was 11:30 and she was finishing up a history paper when she heard a whoosh then a thud. She wasn't surprised to see Damon outside her window, and she pulled the curtains closed then sat back down at her desk. Instead of going away he pushed the window open himself and came inside. "You know, when a girl closes the curtains it means ‘go away’ not ‘come on in’." she stood up, glaring at him.

"Yeah, well, I don't take no for an answer." He said as he shut the window behind him and smiled at her where she sat at her desk.

"Yeah, well, you need to leave before the neighbors see you and get me in trouble again." She said with a point to the window.

"Come on Katie cat, don't be mad at me." He pouted at her.

"First of all don’t call me that and second I'm not mad. I'm pissed at you and mad at my friend and if my grandpa finds out you're in here he'll-" she stopped herself from letting him know exactly what kind of trouble he was going to get her into. She also realized how loud she had started talking.

"Katie!" Her grandpa yelled and she heard him coming up the stairs.

"You need to leave, now." Katie told Damon and gave him a push to the window.

"Why? He can't hurt me." Damon said with a cocky whisper as he stumbled back a bit.

"It's not you I'm worried about." She whispered, hearing Grandpa’s footsteps getting closer to her door. "Go!" She whispered and tried to shove him, but he didn't move.

She was still shoving at him when the bedroom door opened. "You tacky little bitch." Before her grandpa could take a step into her room Damon appeared in front of him.

"You are going to forget that I'm in here and anytime you hear me in here in the future you are going to forget all about it and carry on with your night." Grandpa repeated everything Damon said, sounding like a zombie. "Now go to bed." Her grandpa turned around and left. Damon shut the door then turned around and flashed Katie a smile. "Problem solved."

Katie rolled her eyes and sat down on her bed. "I'm still pissed at you."

"Come on, how can you stay mad at this face?" He asked, pointing at himself as he smiled again.

"Easy, I remind myself that you are feeding on Caroline after I specifically asked you not to hurt any of my friends." Katie said as she scooted back to lean against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. Damon let his smile fall, looking aggravated. "Why are you with her anyway?"

"I don't know." He shrugged and sat down backwards in the desk chair. "She never shuts up, and I don't see it going anywhere, but she's good in bed so..." he trailed off.

Katie rolled her eyes. "Okay, so you have someone to feed off of and someone to screw so why are you here, Damon? What do you want from me?"

"Your friendship.” He said but it sounded more like a question and he looked a little confused. “Someone to hang out with...talk to without having to wipe your memory or play head games." He said with a shrug as if he was embarrassed.

"Right." She said, not believing him, but she couldn't tell him no. What if he decided to hurt her or drink her dry and kill her. "Then let's talk." She motioned for him to start.

"Why'd you pick a fight with Caroline tonight?" He asked with a smirk and a quirk of his brow.

"Teen gossip, really? That's what you wanna talk about?" She asked with raised brows.

“Girl fights are hot.” He said with a smile and a shrug.

Katie rolled her eyes. "Fine, I blew up on Caroline because she's been really bitchy since she started dating you. Like she thinks she's better than everyone else because-"

"Because she got the hotter Salvatore brother?" He finished for her revealing that he had heard her when she and Caroline were arguing.

She blushed and scratched at the back of her neck. "You heard that huh?" She asked sheepishly.

"Yep. Tell me, was she telling the truth when she called you a virgin and a prude?" He asked with a devious smile on his face.

"I'm not answering that." She shook her head making Damon smile.

"Come on, you're on the cheer squad. How virginal can you be?" He asked, making her throw a paper ball at him. "Really though, I didn’t take you to be the peppy cheerleader type."

"I'm not. Grandpa forced me into it along with softball and track. Plus I get to spend time with my friends." She shrugged.

"Yeah your grandpa seems like a class A prick." Damon said putting emphasis on the k at the end of the word prick.

"He is." She said with a nod. "But I might have to quit cheer if Caroline doesn't stop talking down to everyone. I get enough of that here and if she keeps it up I might have to smack her again." Katie admitted.

“He also seems young to be the grandpa of a 17 year old.” He added.

“Yeah that’s because he and grandma got married and started a family at, like eighteen and then my mother had me when she was really young. Grandpa’s in his late forties and goes to the gym three times a week.” She answered with a shrug.

Damon got up then sat down on her bed and scooted back to sit next to her, leaning against the wall. Katie glared at him. "What? That chair is uncomfortable."

"Nothing." Katie shook her head.

"Don't quit cheerleading." Damon said without looking at her. "If you quit Caroline wins. Besides, no one likes a quitter." He looked across his shoulder at her and smiled a cheeky smile. "Plus, you looked hot in those little short shorts of yours at practice today." He wiggled an eyebrow at her and bumped her shoulder with his.

"Flirting with me isn’t going to get you anywhere.” She answered looking down at her hands, picking at her cuticles. “Especially if you keep feeding on my friend.”

"Did your grandpa do that to your eye?" Damon asked out of nowhere. Katie didn't answer. No one had ever asked that before, not even Elena or Bonnie. She just stared down at her feet and started picking fuzz off of her socks. “Katie...” he drew out her name, but she still didn't look at him so he grabbed her chin between his thumb and pointer finger and turned her face to him. “Answer the question.” Katie finally nodded. "Do I need to compel him again?"

"No, I'll be fine." Katie answered quietly as she grabbed Damon's wrist and moved his hand from her face. “If I ask you to stop feeding on Caroline will you?” Katie asked knowing what the answer would be, but she hated the fact that he was hurting her and probably compelling her to cover it up and she couldn’t stand by and not try to do something about it.

“No.” Damon answered as if it was a stupid question.

“Even if I offer you me?” The fact that she wasn’t sure if she really wanted what she was offering was clear in her tone. “I know what you are. I’ve promised not to say anything and so far I’ve kept up that promise. You won’t have to compel me to forget about it and plus side, I’ve got seven years worth of practice in the art of covering up unexplainable injuries.”

When Damon didn’t say anything she looked across her shoulder to see him staring at her as if he was trying to figure her out. “Did you just submit a verbal resume to become my own personal juice box?” he asked, still glaring at her.

“Um, I guess that’s one way to look at it.” she answered feeling like a weirdo as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear then looked down at her hands folded in her lap and started picking at her cuticles. “Did I get the job? I’ll let you feed on me in exchange for leaving Caroline alone.”

“Anyone ever told you you’re weird?” Damon asked with a hit of a smile.

“Only every day of my life.” She answered with a smirk, giving him the same answer he had once given her.

“You should be more scared of me than you are.” He warned with a glare.

“But I’m not.” She countered as she turned her eyes from his to the colorful bubbles floating around on her computer screen.

“Why is that?” he asked. He’s seen a lot in his lifetime. Human women begging to let him feed on them while rolling around between the sheets, begging him to turn them with hopes of being together forever, etc, but Katie was just trying to do what was best for her friend, even if it put her in danger. He found himself wanting a friendship like that with her. He couldn’t think of anyone he knew that would throw themselves under the bus for him.

“I don’t know.” Katie shrugged, still staring at her computer screen. “Because I’m weird, I guess.” It got quiet between them for a while. Katie was lost in thought, hoping she wasn’t getting herself in too deep with Damon in order to help her friend. Hoping Caroline wouldn’t be too heart broken if she did get Damon to break it off with her. Damon on the other hand was lost in thought about if he wanted to trade the sex and fun feeding activities with a cute blond for something probably not as fun with an interesting, auburn haired, virgin. “So, do we have a deal?” Katie finally asked.

“I don’t know, I’m still thinking about it. Remind me again why I should trade fun, sexy Caroline for feeding on a girl who’s best friend called a virginal prude?” he asked. "Also are you aware that this little deal of yours sounds like you're just trying to get the hotter Salvatore brother all to yourself so you can be the one rubbing everyone's noses in it?"

"First of all, a virgin? Maybe. A prude? No. Second I don’t want you all to myself I want you to stop hurting people that I care about. And being with Caroline just so you can use her for sex, blood and brainwashing is hurting her in my book." She answered.

Damon, needing more time to think through his decision, stalled by asking, "So you think I'm hotter than Stefan huh?"

"I thought we already covered that." She answered with creased brows, avoiding the question.

"You're being prudish." He sing songed not looking at her.

She decided that because Damon had such a big head she would mess with him a little bit before she actually answered his question. "You know I only said that because Caroline thinks she got the hotter brother right?" She said earning a 'oh whatever' look from Damon. "Stefan has the hair, the boy band face, the heart warming smile, the forest green eyes and the cute butt. He's romance novel hot."

"Okay, so you like Stefan better. I get it." He whined, not happy to hear her talking about his brother.

"I didn't say that." She smiled with a shake of her head.

"Well that's what it sounded like." He rested his head back against the wall.

"You didn't let me finish. He's hot, but he also seems like he can be a stick in the mud." She looked at Damon across her shoulder to see him looking down at her with his head still leaning against the wall. "Green eyed boy band doesn't really do it for me."

Damon smirked at her realizing she had been messing with him. "Then what does do it for you?"

"Icy blue eyes," She started, still looking at him, "that stand out against dark brown, slightly unkempt hair, a bright smile that makes me want to smile," Damon smiled a little bigger, "and muscles that are there, but aren't so big that they scare the shit out of me."

Testing the waters, Damon reached over and slid his fingertips over the back of her hand. She didn't pull away so he flipped her hand over and started drawing nonsensical shapes and swirls on her palm. "Deal."

"You know I'm not going to have sex with you just because I find you sexy right?" She asked, surprised yet happy that he would trade Caroline for her. “We can have fun if you want to, but my bottoms are staying on.”

"I know." He told her still playing with her hand. “And trust me, I want to.”

Her stomach tumbled and her cheeks flushed at his confession. “And you know that breaking up with Caroline and letting her down easy is a non negotiable part of the deal?"

"Yep." He popped the p at the end of the word.

"Then deal." She said as she pushed herself off the wall and turned to face him with her legs tucked under her as she held out her hand for a hand shake.

"Nu uh." Damon sat up as he smirked at her. "That's not how I seal a deal." He placed his hand on her neck and ran his thumb over her jaw line as he leaned into her. He could hear her heart beat increase as her eyes slipped closed and he pressed his lips to hers. She didn't kiss him back right away, making Damon realize that if she was a virgin that she might not have ever kissed anymore before. But when she placed her hand on his chest and started kissing him back, he lost all train of thought for a second.

He had eased her back on the bed and was kissing her neck as he slid his hand up her side closer and closer to her breast when her train of thought pulled itself from the wreckage Damon's kiss had caused. "Whoa, hey, slow down there cowboy." She placed her hand on his chest and pushed him back.

He didn't have to respond to her push, but he did. "Yes?" he sighed.

"Break it off with Caroline first." She told him with a frown. "I'm not going to have fun with you while you're still with my best friend." She told him and he sighed and let his head fall to rest on her chest. "Let me see or hear you break it off with her without making her feel like she did something wrong, then we'll talk about how far I'm willing to let this," she motioned between them, "go."

"Why do you women always have to make things difficult?" He complained as he sat up and pulled out his phone.

"Stop whining. You knew I had morals when you made this deal." She popped off.

"I don't whine." His pouting tone made her smile.

"Sure you don't." She noticed that he was calling Caroline. "Put it on speaker and don’t mention me. No one needs to know about us."

He pressed the call button then put it on speaker. It rang four times before Caroline answered sleepily. "Hello?"

"Caroline, Sweetheart." He answered with a smile in his voice.

"Damon?" She asked with a yawn. "It's 12:00 in the morning. Is everything okay?"

"No." Damon answered and Katie mouthed the words ‘be nice’, to Damon. "You see, I've been thinking about us and it's just not working for me."

"What? Why not?" She asked and Katie felt a pang of guilt shoot through her chest at the hurt tone of Caroline's high pitched voice. "What did I do wrong?"

Damon saw Katie's pained expression. "Nothing. Okay? You did nothing wrong. It's me. You're simply too good for me." Katie dropped her eyes to her hands and started picking at her cuticles. "I'm no good, I'd only hurt you in the long run and you deserve someone that will treat you right."

"I don't understand. I-" she started.

"I'm sorry Caroline, but we’re over." He hung up the phone knowing Caroline would just drag it out if he didn’t. "Good enough for you?"

"Yeah." She nodded not looking at him as she continued to pick at her nails.

Damon placed a hand over hers, stopping her. "You keep that up and you won't have any skin left on your finger."

"Sorry. Nervous habit." She said with a shrug as she let him take her hand, flip it over and thread his fingers through hers.

"Now where were we?" He asked with one thing on his mind as he wrapped his free arm around her waist and laid her back, pinning the hand he healed down next to her head. Her free hand rested on his back and when he started kissing her neck she sighed and dug her fingertips into the black leather of the jacket he was wearing.

He started teasing his teeth over the sensitive skin of her neck as she pushed his jacket down his arms. "Don't bite my neck unless you plan on giving me some of your blood." She told him breathlessly. “I hate scarves.”

"Then where do you suggest?" He asked between kissing and nibbling at her neck, driving her crazy.

"Wrist, side, hip, anywhere that can be covered by a bracelet or-" She said as he kissed his way up her pail jaw line then cut her off by kissing her.

He kissed her for a minute then pulled back and sat up. She watched as he finished taking off his jacket then grabbed the back of his black t-shirt at the neckline and pulled it over his head. Katie found herself staring while resisting the urge to kiss every inch of his body that she could. "Too scary?" He asked remembering that too much muscle scared her.

"No." She laughed quietly. "Not at all." She sat up and pulled her shirt off then pressed her lips back to his as she draped her arms over his shoulders. His hands gripped her waist and picked her up, setting her on his lap straddling him, then slid up her back to the band of her bra. Feeling that he was about to undo the hooks she started kissing his neck. "Sorry, Charley, the bra stays on."

"Aww, come on, pleeease." He begged knowing she probably wouldn't give in.

"You're a bad influence, you know that?" She asked before she bit his neck harder than she intended.

"Mmhmm" He hummed as he grabbed her face between his hands and pulled her away from his neck. "And you're a tease." He said looking into her eyes and he slid his thumb over her lips.

"Sorry." She frowned and looked down at her fingers splayed out on his chest, hating that she couldn't just make herself turn off her conscience and have sex with a guy like other girls could.

"I didn't say I didn't like it." He said and she looked back up at him. He gave her a small smile that showed off one side of his smile lines.

She smiled and slid her hands up his chest to the back of his neck where one stayed as the other slid up into his hair. He sighed and started kissing her as he laid her back down then started kissing down her jaw line, neck, chest then over her breasts, sliding his hands down her sides as he did. When he got to the bottom of the band of her bra he asked, "You ready?" She nodded and he could tell she was nervous. So he grabbed one of her hands and kissed the back of it then placed it on his head and made her grab his hair. "You don’t like it or you want me to stop, pull."

She swallowed hard, placed her other hand on his head, embedding her fingers in his soft hair, and nodded, "I'm ready."

She shook as he kissed her left side just below her breast and grazed his teeth over her skin. She watched the veins pop up under his eyes as the whites turned red then he closed his eyes and sank his teeth into her. She hissed in a sharp breath, closed her eyes, but quickly relaxed as he grabbed one of her hands and gave it an encouraging squeeze. After a minute he pulled away and kissed her stomach. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She answered as she opened her eyes. "I'm fine. You can keep going if you want." She told him as she brushed his hair back. He smiled at her then kissed his way back to the bleeding bite. After another minute she started feeling sleepy. "Damon." She gave his hair a tug and he stopped. "I'm getting light headed."

He kissed his way up her body to her lips. She was slightly disturbed at herself for liking the taste of her blood on his tongue. Eventually, he slid to the side to lie beside her. "I didn't mean to take so much." He told her genuinely sorry as he brushed an auburn wave out of her face. "How do you feel?" He noticed her eyelids looked heavy.

"Dizzy...sleepy, kind of weak." she answered quietly.

"I'll be right back." He kissed her on her temple then went down stairs to the kitchen. "Okay, if I were a snack cake where would I be?" He asked himself as he looked around the kitchen. He checked the Pillsbury doughboy cookie jar, but only found crumbs. After looking in the pantry and the cupboards he finally found a chocolate bar in the freezer then grabbed a bottle of water out of the icebox. His next stop was the bathroom where he grabbed some gauze pads and medical tape.

When he walked back into the room she was sitting up attempting to put her shirt back on. "Will you help me?" She asked pathetically letting the shirt and her arms fall to her lap.

"In a minute." He tore the wrapper off the cold chocolate and handed it to her. "Eat this, your blood sugars low."

She took it from him, snapped off a piece then popped it into her mouth. "I hate chocolate."

"It's all I could find." He placed a few pads over the bite then grabbed her hand and placed it over them. "Hold that." While she held the gauze he tore off four pieces of tape.

"We don’t keep sweets in the house. Grandpa refuses to have a fat cow living under his roof." She said then bit off a piece of the chocolate.

"Your grandpa's a dick." He taped the gauze in place then grabbed the bottle of water from beside him and unscrewed the lid. "Drink."

She swallowed the chocolate then took the bottle from him. "Yep."

He grabbed her shirt and turned it right side out then put it over her head. "So," he drawled out the word then took the chocolate and water from her and set them on her night stand. She let him help her put her arms through the shirt sleeves. "Other than getting sick after, what did you think?"

She scooted back to lean on her headboard. "It was...scary." she answered then looked at him and his pretty blue eyes. "But fun. I liked it." She gave him a smile.

"Good." He told her with a smile as he leaned in and pecked her on the lips.

"Just...promise me you won't drink so much next time. I feel like shit." She pressed her hand to her head, massaging her temple.

"Sorry." He grabbed the chocolate and water and handed them back to her. She wrinkled her nose at the chocolate, but took it. "I really didn't mean to drink so much, but you taste really good. Best I've had in awhile."

Katie broke the chocolate bar up into pieces. "Wonder why?" She asked then tossed all of the chocolate into her mouth.

"A person's diet can affect it sometimes." He said with a shrug, "like not eating a lot of sugar."

Katie swallowed the chocolate as if she were eating something disgusting. After downing half the bottle of water she looked at the clock to see that it was after two in the morning. "Oh God,” Katie groaned, pressing her hand to her head. “It's late and I have a quiz first thing in the morning."

"Then I'll let you get some sleep." He got up and tucked her into bed then kissed her. "Good night Katie."

“Hey, Damon?” Katie asked, grabbing his hand as he started to grab his shirt and jacket.

“Hmm?” he hummed, turning back to her.

“Would you completely hate it if I asked you to stay?” she asked sleepily.

“No.” he laughed the word quietly. “Move over.” He said as he rubbed her shoulder and she scooted over as he slid under the black and white comforter. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his side. By the time he had gotten comfortable she was sound asleep with her head on his chest.

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sanjisock · 5 years ago

Text

this, at least

ao3

The most annoying thing about this whole falling in love thing, Zoro decides, is the fact that he doesn’t even have a say in it.

One day he catches Sanji’s eyes across the table during dinner and it’s a multitude of things at once: like the clearing of fog at dawn, a flood, a thunderclap. Something ended. Something started. Zoro’s breath catches in his throat, a hitch, thick and unyielding; and then Sanji looks away, and Zoro still can’t fucking breathe.

He tries to backtrack, mentally — tries to put the knowledge away, tuck it at the back of his mind, but he can’t stop staring at the Cook’s dumb face and the dumb cigarette in between his teeth and the dumb three-piece suit he keeps wearing, and Zoro knows there’s no turning back from this one. Like a cut from a sword, swift and final.

He’s in love. And it’s as terrible as everyone makes it to be.

It’s stupid.

He finds himself watching Sanji, following his movements around the ship — the way he likes to smoke in the morning with his back against the railings, the rising sun in his hair, washing it golden; the way he darts around the ship to help everyone with their own tasks, helping Usopp with the laundry and Franky with the reparations and Chopper and Nami and everyone, constantly, without fail, never resting; the way he goes through packs of cigarettes every day and yet still smells like the salt of some distant sea.

They arrive on a nameless port and part ways but Zoro watches him still; the way Sanji’s eyes light up at the sight of spices Zoro can’t even differentiate; the way he would pretend to drop some of his groceries around starving homeless men, head turned away as if he couldn’t see the men picking the food up in gratitude; the way he’d watch mothers hand-in-hand with their children with a certain kind of longing, and he’d smile then, a little curled up around the edges smile that makes Zoro’s heart trip inside his chest.

It’s becoming a problem, Zoro realizes, when he starts doing it in the battlefield.

He knows Sanji can take care of himself, knows first hand what it’s like to face those deathly kicks. And yet Zoro’s throat closes up when he sees one of the marines pointing his gun at Sanji; he freezes, in the middle of all the limbs and gunshots and swung blades, and he has half the mind to turn and catch up to the Cook —

The marine pulls the trigger and Sanji avoids the shot easily. Of course he does. Zoro may have been ahead on the brute force department but Sanji has always been quicker, and bullets have ceased to be a problem for them even long before they learned to use haki. It’s not like Zoro can afford getting too distracted against the opponents he’s up against, either.

So it’s stupid, really.

Sanji smiles, toothy grin stretched across his face and Zoro feels something unfurl within his ribcage. Like sunrise, warming all over.

It’s stupid.

And Zoro is stupidly in love.

He finds Usopp at his workshop, tinkering on a long rod that looks a lot like Nami’s weapon. He drags one of the benches and sits across the work table, placing his swords at the corner of the table.

“I think,” he begins, because there’s no other way to segue into this. “I want to be with the Cook.”

Usopp’s hand slips and twists his wrench a little too hard at that, and the rod makes a loud bang noise as Usopp snaps his head at Zoro. “What?”

Zoro doesn’t say anything.

“I think I might’ve misheard,” Usopp babbles, dropping the wrench and the rod on the table unceremoniously. “You know, with all the noise and the tools and the, uh, the waves — you were saying something about, who was it again, Sanji?”

“I want to be with the Cook,” Zoro repeats.

“Oh,” Usopp says, twirling his fingers in a nervous gesture. “You’re saying you, uh —” he pauses and wrings his hands, clearly trying to pick his words, before settling with, “you like Sanji.”

Like. Right. As if it were that simple. “No, I’m in love with the Cook,” Zoro says.

“Holy shit,” Usopp blurts, before immediately covering his mouth with his hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean it like that,” he says through the hands, “I mean, that’s wonderful, Zoro.”

“No, actually, it sucks.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The room goes quiet again. Zoro is beginning to think that he’s making a mistake.

Zoro contemplates leaving the room and pretends none of this ever happened, but then Usopp huffs, a soft chuckle slipping through his lips. “No, yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he says in between chuckles, “falling in love sucks, doesn’t it?”

It brought a smile to Zoro's face — the kind that hurts all the way down to his chest. He shrugs.

“So what are you gonna do?” Usopp asks, propping his head on his hands as he leans forward, curious. “Are you planning to tell him?”

“Have you ever told her?” Zoro fires back. “That girl back in your hometown — Kaya, wasn’t it? Did she ever know?”

“God, no,” Usopp immediately says with a shake of his head. “But I was never a brave man, Zoro, I’m kind of — working on that.”

Working on that. Zoro likes the way that sounds. As if there’s a direction he’s actually heading towards, a goal he has to meet. As if he doesn’t perpetually feel like wading through quicksand, heady and breathless and sinking .

“Right. Me too,” he agrees.

Usopp smiles at him, almost wistfully. “You need some help on that?”

He wonders about that too. He has never been the sharing type, especially when it comes to the matter of the heart, but then again, this isn’t exactly something he’s ever had much experience with. “No,” he decides. “I just, I don’t know. I think I just needed someone to know.”

“Okay,” Usopp says, and picks up his wrench again. They stay like that, silent except for the sound of clashing metals from Usopp’s tools, until Sanji calls them up for dinner.

Zoro likes to think of himself as a brave man. Not in the way most low-time pirates would brag to strangers in a corner of a shady bar, but in that quiet acceptance of his, a part of himself he has understood for a long time, the way he faces dangers and towering monsters and knows: he is not afraid.

But sometimes he thinks of Sanji’s face twisting, sneering, of Sanji turning away, avoiding him, hating him — not the petty fights or throwaway arguments but truly hating him — and he thinks, no, he is not a brave man.

Sanji is sitting across the table at the bar, humming to himself as he downs his second glass of alcohol. He’d soon start babbling about pretty women and complicated dishes, the lightweight that he is, but right now, buzzed by the alcohol but not quite drunk, bathed by the dim lighting of the room, the Cook looks almost ethereal.

If Zoro were braver, he would touch those wet lips. If he were braver, he would run the tips of his fingers down the side of Sanji’s face, rest his palms on Sanji’s cheeks, and maybe — just maybe, if he were braver — press their lips together.

I love you, he would say, if he were braver.

“You’re such a dumbass,” he blurts instead.

“What the hell, Marimo — I hate you too,” Sanji says, almost on instinct. It’s a throwaway comment, doesn’t mean anything, but it still hits where it hurts, right in the very center of his chest. The sky is pitch black and the wooden floor is creaking under his feet; the cold night wind feels like it blows right through him, like there’s a massive hole in his abdomen, and Zoro drinks.

His throat burns, all the way down to his stomach. Like fire. Like coal.

(Like heartbreak.)

They fight.

They always fight, like clockwork. Sometimes it’s good-natured, almost performative, blades and limbs swung like a dance only the two of them share; but other times — this time, Zoro can’t help thinking — it’s vicious and real, because they get under each other’s skin at the drop of a hat, and there’s a murderous glint on Sanji’s eyes that’s rarely there. Not entirely hateful, never crossing a certain line — they’re nakama, after all — but not entirely unreal either.

“I’m going to kill you,” Sanji growls, and Zoro thinks, you will . Zoro didn’t set himself up for love, but it’s the kind of things you only realize until you’ve stumbled into when it has happened: Zoro has somehow extracted his heart, worn it on his sleeves, laid it out there for everyone to see, and it is now beating, painfully, like it knows that it is fully in Sanji’s mercy; that Sanji can wrap his hands around it, fingers curving around the veins, and presses just so —

“As if you can,” he snaps, but he knows Sanji can; ten times over, hundred times over.

Nami finds him where he always goes, when they’re docked at an island — a corner of a dingy bar, strangers sitting two tables away as they steal wary glances at the man with one eye and three swords.

“This is pathetic, even for you,” Nami says as she takes the stool beside him.

“Shut up,” he says around a mouthful of tankard, downing the alcohol inside. He definitely needs it, now that Nami is here. “Shut up.”

“Eloquent, as always,” she says sarcastically, and orders her own tankard. She finishes it in one go, faster than he did, before adding, “you know you can’t keep doing this, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, feigning nonchalance, even when Nami is clearly not buying a single thing he’s selling.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re pulling this shit with me — you know what I’m talking about. This whole — ” she makes a gesture with her hand, “thing you have with Sanji-kun.”

“I don’t have a thing with the Cook,” he retorts, instinctively balking at the word. Thing. As if it was ever that simple. As if this bone-crushing weight around his heart could be summed up into a word as short and scant as that: thing. “He hates my guts and annoys the hell out of me. Simple as that.”

“You love him,” Nami says, bluntly. “And it’s hurting you.”

“It’s my problem,” he retorts, doesn’t even bother to deny it. Not to Nami. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Because you’re clearly doing such a good job by yourself,” she huffs. “Sulking at some nasty bar, drinking away your savings —”

“Like you’re one to say,” he fires back, “did you ever say anything to Vivi, in the end? You had all the time in the world, when we sailed together; and yet you didn’t say a single word.” He slams his tankard against the table, watches the alcohol spill over the rim. “Takes a coward to know another.”

He sees her face crumple at the mention of Vivi, and immediately feels bad. She looks away, her jaw constricting, throat bobbing, and for a second Zoro thought she would cry.

“Did it ever cross your mind,” she says after a moment, “that maybe I just don’t want you to make the same mistake that I did?”

He thinks of all the times he caught her alone, staring at the distant sea, her mind elsewhere, among the eternal sand. She looked a lot like porcelain, fragile and breakable; she looked unlike anything he had ever seen her be.

“That mistake — you can still fix it,” he blurts out, desperate to atone. “You still write to her sometimes, don’t you? It’s not too late. You can tell her, through those letters —”

“And what good would that do to us, Zoro?” She rests her chin on her hand, eyes cast downwards. “She’s miles away with a nation to lead, and we’re just...we may not even come back from this, you know? I couldn’t put that on her. Not when she has so much to live for. But you,” she suddenly looks up, gaze boring into his eye, “you and Sanji-kun are still here. It’s not too late for you two.”

It’s not the same, Zoro wants to argue, not when Vivi is clearly enamored with Nami as much as she does with her, while Sanji is a man who loves everyone but Zoro. Sanji has so much love to give, spilling over the edges of that bleeding heart of his, but not for Zoro; Sanji tolerates him, on a good day, and Zoro scowls at the thought of bad days.

But he thinks of Sanji, after a good fight, broken bones and open wounds and Sanji would lean slightly against Zoro in that way of his, the kind he does whenever he doesn’t want to admit that he needs help. Their shoulders would press against each other, hands brushing, and what comes out is, “All right, I’ll try.”

Nami blinks, looking as surprised as he feels.

“I’m not doing this for you,” he quickly says before she gets the wrong idea. “Just make sure you throw out a rope after he kicks me overboard.”

She smiles, in a broken kind of way, and Zoro wonders if this whole love thing is ever worth it.

They always fight.

But sometimes, they don’t.

Shared amused glances when Usopp and Luffy pull off some lively antics; backs pressed against each other’s as the enemies close in on them. Quiet moments in the crow’s nest when the rest of the crew has gone to sleep, cold nights and warm alcohol, insecurities laid bare in ways they couldn’t do with other people in the crew, who have different roles and different burdens to carry.

Zoro would help Sanji with the dishes after dinner — standing shoulder-to-shoulder, dirty plates and soap-soaked hands, elbows navigating around each other with ease born from familiarity. They would talk about their day, then, their usual animosity forgotten, soft words and softer laughter.

They get involved in a skirmish with the local bandits who stole a bunch of pears from the market and Sanji kicks a guy hard in the stomach, launching him towards the bandit Zoro has been fighting. Both bandits scream and barrel towards each other before falling unceremoniously on the ground.

“You could say,” Sanji quips as he moves on to fight another guy, “they make quite a pear.”

It’s not a good joke. It’s fucking dumb, in fact, but Zoro laughs, laughs like he’s never laughed before, like it’s the funniest thing on Earth. He thinks he must’ve sounded stupid, but Sanji huffs at him, eyes crinkling, lips tilted up in amusement, and Zoro suddenly thinks he’s not so stupid after all.

Sanji is clearly in a good mood. He makes a gesture with his hand, hand curved around an invisible glass, and tips it towards his mouth. “You wanna grab something afterwards?”

Two men writhe under the sole of his shoes, bloodied and battered. Sanji takes a drag out of his cigarette, unperturbed, his suits still neatly buttoned up to his neck. He looks feral and unkempt and put together at the same time, and he is everything Zoro has ever wanted.

“Sure,” Zoro says, and he thinks, I love you. I love you. I love you.

“Do you ever wonder?” Zoro asks as he drags the Cook out of the tavern, and Sanji snores, completely drunk, half of his body slung over Zoro’s shoulders. His face is beet red and smushed against the back of Zoro’s shoulder blade, and there’s something about the contact that sparks up something underneath Zoro’s skin that fizzes and trembles. “You know I hate this kind of shit — thinking about what ifs and all — but fuck, Cook. Sometimes — sometimes we’re good and you’re awful but you’re also the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He inhales, his chest shuddering against the cold air. “I can’t help — it’s pointless and impossible and stupid but sometimes I wonder if we could ever — if we could ever be —”

Sanji snores on, dead to the world.

Zoro exhales.

Sometimes, they don’t fight.

That’s the hardest part.

It’s a cloudy afternoon, and Zoro can feel the salty breeze picking up when he catches sight of Robin and Chopper in front of a bookstore.

Bookstores have never been his thing, all things considered — he visits taverns and swordsmiths and the island’s marketplace when Sanji is in the mood to drag him around, but Robin and Chopper are the ones who go to bookstores and libraries whenever they’re docked. So it is unsurprising, then, when he simply nods at them in acknowledgement before walking past.

It is surprising when Robin reaches out and touches him, lightly, on the elbow.

“Chopper will take some time with the books,” she says. “Do you mind accompanying me for a drink in that café?”

It is how Zoro finds himself in his current situation, sipping terrible alcohol from his colorful drink that’s more sugar than alcohol because it’s the only thing the café offered. Robin is smiling enigmatically from across the table, and Zoro is hit once again with the absurdity of his situation. Sure, he cares about each of his crewmates, would lay down his life for any of them in a heartbeat, but getting overpriced alcohol at a café with Robin ? Not exactly an everyday occurrence.

Robin takes her time, enjoying her drinks as she watches the crowd. Zoro has seen these tactics, knows that she’s trying to make him lower his guard, but Robin is not an enemy. So he does, eventually; he lets the tension in his shoulders bleed out, leaning back into the chair.

Robin waits until the grip on his glass visibly relaxes, and he’s in the middle of taking a sip when she says, “why do you hide your feelings?”

Zoro chokes on his drink.

Robin only smiles in amusement as he’s hitting his chest from all the coughing — Zoro’s pretty sure she did this on purpose. Witches, all of them. “It’s none of your business.”

“Your heart is heavy,” Robin replies. “Any weight on a ship is the business of her crew.”

Zoro pauses. It irks him, the mere implication that he’s dragging the crew back, but he thinks of the night outside of the tavern, his breath visible in the cold air as he asks the unconscious cook, what if? What if? What if? — and in that moment he knows Robin is right.

Doesn’t mean it’s an easy question to answer. “I dunno,” he shrugs, struggling to find the right words. “Sometimes I think about him, and the thing here,” he presses a hand to his chest, “it’s — bursting, like something is about to spill. But then I see him and his stupid face and it’s all —” his hand moves up, hovering over his neck, “ stuck, here. It just — freezes.”

Robin listens patiently, her chin resting on the back of her clasped hands. A moment passes before she asks, “do you think Sanji isn’t worth the trouble?”

Zoro balks. “Of course he is! He deserves —“ A lot of things. More than I have. Everything. Not me. He settles with, “it’s not about the Cook. It’s about this — love thing.”

Robin hums noncommittally. “You and I, I think, are very similar,” she observes. “We have a lot of things we keep close to ourselves, secrets we’ll carry to the grave. But when I am with Franky, every part of me tells me that this one —” she reaches across the table and covers his palm with hers, pressing them both against his chest. Against his heart. “This one, at least — it is one worth sharing.”

Zoro yanks his hand from her grasp and looks away, almost — ashamed. For being so — vulnerable, in a way. So easy to read. His body bruises and heals, stronger by the day — but his heart breaks so easily still.

“You don’t understand,” he shakes his head, “you and Franky, it’s different. Your heart has always been something he wanted to carry.”

Robin tilts her head. “Do you think Sanji would disrespect your feelings?”

The Cook would do a lot of things, he wants to say, but that isn’t quite right. Sanji is rough and sharp, bristles under Zoro’s touch, but the word disrespect have never crossed his mind even once, when it comes to the Cook. Sanji, who refuses to fight with blades and yet still treats Zoro’s katanas with reverence; Sanji, who quickly understood what a scar on Zoro’s back meant, and guarded it with his entire being. Sanji, who — cares, always tries to, always does.

“No,” he answers, surely, steadily. “He won’t.”

Robin smiles at that. “Then let me ask you this question again. Why do you hide your feelings?”

And just like that, all his excuses — gone. Like pebbles in a river, worn away to sand. His heart is still heavy, but it’s the kind of weight that’s accompanied with resolve. “I had a promise with Nami,” he says, almost in a daze. “It’s about time that I go through with that, huh.”

Robin doesn’t ask questions. “You do that,” she says, and that’s that.

Zoro doesn’t do things in halves. Not with his dream, not with his nakama, and never, especially, with Sanji, who wouldn’t expect any less from him.

Zoro doesn’t do things in halves, so he takes a blade to the chest and tells Sanji he loves him.

(Zoro might have skipped a few details.)

On second thoughts, maybe details are unnecessary. He told Sanji that he loved him. That’s the point of this whole thing. The other stuff is just... embellishments, at best; irrelevant, at worst.

The embellishments are these: the air, gunpowder and smoke, bullets flying by overhead. The marines, three galleons big this time, cornering the Sunny against a cliffside before it could leave the island. The Straw Hats, their hands full with a few dozen marine officers each, completely separated from one another.

The embellishments are these: a Vice Admiral whose name Zoro can’t even remember anymore, his blade thin but long, a particular kind Zoro recognized as a naginata. A battle, messier than their usual matchups, him and Sanji against at least six of the Vice Admiral’s underlings. Sanji, distracted — they’d heard Usopp’s pained scream only a few moments ago, and Sanji turned his head then, eyes searching the battlefield for the voice, back facing the Vice Admiral.

The embellishments are simply those — embellishments.

Those aren’t the point.

The point is this: he took a hit meant for Sanji. Something cut deep against his chest, and then inside his chest, and before he knew it Sanji was kneeling over him, screaming his name hoarse. He liked the way his name sounded, coming out of Sanji’s lips. The Cook should say it more often. Maybe he should say Sanji’s name more often, first. Like a challenge, because that’s what it always comes down to, when it comes to them.

The point is this: they were both sweaty and disheveled in the middle of an enemy’s ship and Sanji looked absolutely fucking awful, but Zoro loved him anyway. There was dirt under his nails and someone else’s blood smeared across the bridge of his nose, and Zoro loved him still — in spite of, because of — so much that he can feel the sharp ache of desire against his heart.

The point is this:

“I’m in love with you,” Zoro told him. Blood-soaked, dirt-crusted — but the truth, nonetheless.

(This, at least —)

And then he passed out.

It is, admittedly, sort of disappointing to see Luffy instead of Sanji when he comes to.

Luffy takes one look at Zoro and immediately cuts to the chase. He tells him, “you need to talk to Sanji.”

No good morning, no are you okay, but then again, Luffy always knows when to trust his nakama with their own battles. Zoro can handle a naginata to the chest just fine on his own. The thing with Sanji — not so much.

He shrugs. “I did.”

“No, dummy,” Luffy replies with a pout, like Zoro’s the biggest dumbass he’s ever met. “You told him words and then you passed out. That’s not talking.”

“I talked to him before that,” he answers, aware he’s being petty but unable to stop himself.

“I mean talk to Sanji,” Luffy insists. He scrunches his nose, wearing the expression he does whenever he’s thinking too hard. “You talk to everyone on the ship but not Sanji and that’s stupid.”

How did you know about that, Zoro wants to say, but of course Luffy does. Luffy is more observant than he appears to be, especially when it matters, and this matters, to Zoro.

“Listen,” he begins, and holy fuck, he thought talking to Robin was weird, but this? This takes the cake by a long mile. “I’m not exactly familiar with this whole — love — thing, okay? This isn’t some enemy I can just cut down. I asked the others, who — they know this stuff, okay, because Usopp has Kaya and Nami has Vivi, and you know about Robin and Franky and I just had to —” he buries his face in his hand. He thinks of Sanji, rough words and soft touches, Zoro’s heart in the palms of his hands, and he blurts out, “I can’t fuck this up, okay? I had to know how to do this right.”

There’s silence, and for a moment Zoro thought Luffy would understand his perspective, but when he looks up from his hand, Luffy is still pouting. “Well, that’s just stupid.”

He grits his teeth, raising from the infirmary bed. “Stop saying that —”

“I won’t, because Zoro won’t listen!” Luffy stands up, looming above Zoro. “It’s stupid, because you tried to talk to everyone about everyone else but Kaya and Vivi and Franky are not Sanji.”

Zoro stills.

“I mean, you said all these things about Franky and Robin, and — okay, Franky knows Robin best because sometimes Robin would make this mystery face and Franky would just know what she’s thinking, but no one on this ship knows Sanji like you know him,” Luffy goes on, jabbing his finger at Zoro’s chest. “Sanji’s the one who’s going to carry this.”

He thinks of Nami, of Usopp. Their shoulders, weighed by unspoken words. “I’ve seen how it could drag me down,” he confesses, in hushed tones. He thinks of the cafe across the bookstore, Robin’s hand against his chest. “Robin told me this one’s especially heavy.”

Luffy grins. “That’s for Sanji to decide. Sanji’s pretty strong you know?” He throws his hands excitedly over his head. “Sanji’s as strong as a thousand men!”

“I’m as strong as two thousand men,” he replies, out of instinct, and Luffy watches him with a small smile.

“Talk to Sanji, Zoro,” he says, after a moment. “I think Sanji wants to talk to you too.”

Zoro settles back into the bed. He thinks of Sanji — fire and ice, thunderstorm and still water; the bloodthirsty hellhound who has stood beside Zoro, shoulder to shoulder, bruised and rough and strong , and the gentle caregiver who makes sure everyone on the ship is fed. Zoro loves Sanji in all his contradictions, and if there’s anyone he could trust with his heart, it’s —

“Okay,” he tells Luffy. He means it this time.

When Zoro comes to again, there’s a plate of soup at his bedside. It smells so fucking good and it hits him, suddenly, that he’s hungry; he sits up straight and reaches for it before he could even take in his surroundings, digging into it in record speed. He can feel his joints ache from the movements, but the pain is distant now. Muted.

“You’re welcome,” Sanji says from the other side of the bed.

Zoro almost jumps from the bed — he doesn’t get surprised easily, but Sanji has always been his exceptions.

When he turns to face the Cook, Sanji is smiling nervously at him, almost hesitant. Sanji looks younger like this, stripped off of all his pretense and bravado, and Zoro wants to kiss him so badly. “Cook,” he says instead.

Sanji’s breath hitches at that, his gaze falling onto his lap. “Marimo,” he replies, but the insult doesn’t have the same edge it usually does.

Zoro’s eye instinctively follows Sanji’s line of sight, and he is surprised to find his swords on Sanji’s lap. Sanji must have kept them safe when Zoro was unconscious, and he feels something warm in his throat at the thought.

Sanji seems to notice Zoro’s gaze, because he shies further into the chair, face flushed. His hands curl around Wado’s hilt, and Zoro lets him — can’t even bring himself to mind it. There are many things, he realizes, he would let Sanji do. It scares him.

He’s not a brave person, but —

“I love you,” Zoro blurts out, words spilling over, unbidden.

Sanji looks up, startled. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats. It’s weird, how it seemed like an insurmountable task to say the words out loud when they feel like the only words he could say to Sanji now. “I just — I need you to just, know that.”

He expects Sanji to do a lot of things, then. Like a kick on the head, if he’s lucky, or an awkward joke about Zoro getting hit on the head. If fate is being particularly cruel, Sanji would look at him in disgust before storming out of the infirmary. He knows Sanji would never do that — would never treat any of his nakama that way — but Zoro’s chest tightens painfully at the thought anyway, almost irrationally.

He doesn’t expect Sanji to lean forward and press a kiss against his lips.

“Eugh, gross,” Sanji says as he pulls away, much quicker than Zoro would’ve liked, “that was so wet , gross. Why didn’t you swallow your soup, what the fuck.”

Soup. Yeah, He can feel some of it spilling out of his lips, and he absentmindedly wipes it with his hand, fumbling with the bowl of soup in his lap as he sputters, “shit, sorry, I wasn’t —”

When he looks up, Sanji is grinning at him, blinding and all-encompassing. He puts Zoro’s swords aside and reaches out, drawing Zoro close, his eyes soft and fond and happy, happier than Zoro has ever seen him be.

“You dumbass,” Sanji says, the undercurrent of a laugh in his tone. “I love you too.”

Oh , Zoro thinks for a second, and then Sanji is kissing him again, and Zoro forgets how to form a thought at all.

For a long moment, all Zoro knows is this — Sanji’s tongue in his mouth, Sanij’s fingers around his wrist, Sanji’s smile against his. His heart is pounding beneath his ribcage, threatening to burst, and when Sanji finally pulls away he can’t help leaning forward, chasing his lips.

Sanji chuckles at the gesture, amused, and rests his forehead against Zoro’s. Sanji is still grinning, cheeks flushed, and Zoro loves him, viscerally, painfully, so hard he can’t breathe around the shape of it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He finds himself asking as soon as he finds his breathing.

Sanji’s face turns a shade darker at the question. “I don’t know,” he mutters after a moment. “We don’t exactly talk about our feelings.”

Zoro feels like punching himself in the face. It seems like talking about his feelings is all he does these days, practically half the crew being the receiving end of his sentimental drivels, but Luffy was right — the talking doesn’t count if he doesn’t talk about it with Sanji.

Well. That is all in the past, he supposes. Zoro never finds the point in regretting his past decisions; the only thing he can do is to be better, so he takes Sanji’s hand in his and tells him what he’s always wanted to tell the Cook, “you’re stupid.”

He gets a raise of an eyebrow at that. “Excuse me?”

“You’re stupid,” Zoro repeats, and kisses Sanji again, at the corner of his mouth. He thinks he can get used to this whole kissing thing. “You and your stupid face and your stupid cigarette and your stupid suit,” he’s laughing now, warm and thrilled. “You’re stupid, and I love you.”

“Thank fuck for that, then,” Sanji laughs, and smiles — against his lips, against his heart — and it’s stupid, but Zoro is smiling back too.

Sanji turns out to be a cuddler, Zoro quickly learns as he wakes up with the Cook somehow having nestled himself into Zoro’s arms, head tucked comfortably against Zoro’s shoulder.

His first instinct is to withdraw himself — and he almost does, pushing himself up on the bed with his free hand — but Sanji presses his face into Zoro’s shoulder at the movement, his grip on Zoro’s hip strong and firm, and Zoro finds himself lowering back down into the bed. He can only see the top of Sanji’s head in this angle, but there’s just something — adorable in the way Sanji is curled up against him with bed-mussed hair, and Zoro is just a man, okay,

There’s a moment of peaceful silence before he hears Sanji sleepily mumble, “where are you going?”

Zoro wants to shrug, but his right arm is dead and he doesn’t exactly want to jostle a sleepy Sanji more than he already has, so he settles with a chaste kiss against the Cook’s temple. “Dunno,” he answers truthfully. “I just thought — I was practically lying on top of you for the whole night. My hand and half of my body and all — must’ve been uncomfortable.”

Sanji watches him for a moment with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, before curling up into Zoro.

“You know,” Sanji huffs, eyes crinkling, and smiles. “It’s not as heavy as you think.”

Zoro’s breath catches in his throat. It’s a multitude of things at once: the clearing of fog at dawn, a flood, a thunderclap. Sanji has dozed back off to sleep, but Zoro still can’t fucking breathe, not when Sanji’s entire being is pressed against him like they’ve never been apart — chest to chest, feet tangling with one another's. Something ended. Something started.

(This, at least — )

Zoro’s in love. And it’s not as terrible as everyone makes it to be.

#opfanfic #zosan #roronoa zoro #sanji #one piece #namivivi #frobin

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andthisisthewonder · 7 years ago

Text

Amendments

I wanted to try my hand at a trope I enjoy but have never written before. Let’s see how it worked out, lol. Rated M for sexy reasons.

As the applause for Peeta’s speech died down, Mr. Mellark lifted up his drink to toast his son. There had to be over three hundred people in the room, but Peeta’s voice and hands were steady. Winning over a crowd was what he excelled at.

“Thank you for trusting me to take over as CEO,” Peeta said into the microphone. “I promise to give everything I have to this company. While we will miss your dedication, passion, and leadership, I promise there are only bright days ahead for Mellark Tech.”

More applause. A few whistles, probably from his closest friends Finnick and Johanna.

“Now I need to take a moment to thank the most important person in my life: my beautiful fiancée, Katniss.”

Katniss smiled and ducked her head as everyone swiveled in their seats to find her table.

“She has been nothing but patient and encouraging these past two months as I worked nights and weekends to prepare for my new role. She knows how often I lose track of time when I’m in the middle of a project, so thank you for always making sure I ate dinner. While she may not know her way around the kitchen, there’s no one better at ordering takeout.” The audience laughed, and he flashed them a charming smile. “I’m so proud to have you by my side as I take this next step. I promise to make time for you, for us, even as I continue to work hard to support your shopping habit.”

More laughter. A few men in the room elbowed their wives.

“Thank you for coming out this evening to celebrate my father’s retirement. Enjoy dinner! And don’t forget, it’s open bar.” He winked and walked back to his table to thunderous applause.

Katniss stood when he reached his chair. She leaned in for a hug, pressed her mouth against his cheek, and whispered, “I’m going to stab you with the salad fork.”

“I doubt you know which fork that is,” he said under his breath as they sat down.

“Any sharp object will due at this point.”

Moments later, the first course was served. Katniss picked up the wrong fork, winked at him, and dug into her garden salad.

This was going to be a long night.

He had brought this upon himself with the jabs he had made during his speech. The audience viewed it as a little teasing between a man and his soon-to-be wife, but Katniss saw it for what it was. He had cut her down in front of everyone, remade her into the wife he wanted: harmless and silly. Insubstantial.

The truth was Katniss knew how to cook quite well. He had never tasted her cooking due to the personal chef he employed, but on more than one occasion he had come home from work to find Katniss making herself dinner. His plate, prepared to his specifications by his chef Sae, always waited in the oven.

Katniss didn’t have a shopping habit either, although he suspected she might develop one out of sheer boredom. She spent most days reading, practicing archery at the country club, or volunteering at a variety of charities around the city. There wasn’t much else to do. He wouldn’t let her work.

By the time the main course arrived, Katniss had downed two glasses of wine and had barely said a word. Clove Arlington, seated on her other side, tried to strike up a conversation several times, but Katniss either offered one word answers or deferred to Peeta.

He should have known she’d crack sooner or later.

Halfway through the filet mignon, Clove turned to Katniss and said, “I meant to tell you sooner. Your dress is absolutely stunning. Who designed it?”

“Six thousand dollars,” Katniss said without missing a beat. She stabbed a piece of steak and shoved it in her mouth.

“Excuse me?” Clove asked.

Peeta touched Katniss’s arm, but it was too late. The words came tumbling out.

“The dress cost six thousand dollars,” Katniss repeated. “That’s what you meant, right? You ask for the designer, look up the cost, and the next time I see you, you’re wearing something that cost an extra thousand.”

The other men and women at the table fell silent. Katniss raised her eyebrows and took a healthy gulp of wine.

“Honey, we talked about this,” Peeta said with a sheepish what-can-you-do glance around the table. “She’s not good at taking compliments.”

“It’s by Cinna.” Katniss tapped her chandelier earrings. “You want to know how much these cost too? I’ll give you a hint. They could feed a family of four for a year.”

“I’m sorry,” Peeta said. He rested his hand on her knee and squeezed. “Katniss grew up in a...different environment. She’s still learning what qualifies as an appropriate topic of conversation.”

“My apologies,” Katniss said. “I forgot we’re not supposed to discuss money out loud. We just quietly compare our networths based on what everyone wears and drives.”

His chair screeched against the ballroom floor as he stood. He yanked Katniss upright, much too brusquely to be considered polite, but anger clouded his judgment.

“If you’ll excuse us,” he said.

As they made their way across the ballroom, Peeta shot everyone who made eye contact a smile to reassure them there was nothing wrong. For all they knew, he was headed into the bathroom for a quickie with his fiancée.

Like he’d ever sleep with her. Like she’d ever let him.

They had almost reached the exit, when Cashmere fucking Laughlin stepped in front of them. Peeta cursed whatever deity had it out for him and came to an abrupt halt.

“Peeta!” She threw her arms around him, forcing him to let go of Katniss. “I feel like it’s been forever. You haven’t introduced me to your fiancée yet.”

“Of course,” Peeta said, switching on the charm. “Cashmere, this is Katniss. Katniss, this is Cashmere.”

“We go way back,” Cashmere said, sticking out her hand. “Friends since elementary school.”

Katniss looked from Cashmere’s face down to her hand and back up again. She shot Peeta a look as if to ask, Really? Normally, Peeta would call her out on her rudeness, but in this situation, he’d let the niceties slide.

Cashmere dropped her arm back to her side and returned her attention to Peeta.

“My computer has been giving me such trouble the past few days. You must come over and take a look at it.”

Katniss stiffened. Peeta drew her into his side, and for once, she didn’t fight him on the physical contact.

“I’m sure you could hire someone to fix it,” he said.

“Do you have any idea how much they charge?” Cashmere asked, as if she couldn’t afford to simply throw out the defective computer and buy ten brand new ones. “Besides, who better to take a look than the new CEO of Mellark Tech?”

Peeta gritted his teeth. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“I’m free this Wednesday,” Cashmere said. “Maybe you could stop by after work?”

“Like I said, I’ll have to check if I’m available.”

“If you’re planning on fucking her, could you let me know ahead of time? I’d hate to let your dinner get cold,” Katniss said in the sweetest voice she could muster. She almost sounded like the doting fiancée he billed her as.

Peeta shut his eyes and let out a breath. He opened them just in time to find Katniss pressing her cheek against Cashmere’s.

“It was wonderful to meet you,” Katniss said, before sweeping past Cashmere and out the exit.

Cashmere looked over her shoulder. “What the fuck?”

Peeta walked as calmly as he could, but as soon as he reached the lobby, he picked up his pace and caught Katniss by the arm. “We need to have a conversation. Now.”

The second ballroom was empty, so he tugged her through there into the attached bridal suite. He slammed the door behind them and locked it.

“Are you trying to make me look like an idiot?” he demanded.

She came to a stop in front of the large oak table in the center of the room and spun around to face him. “You don’t need my help with that.”

“You’re embarrassing me.”

She shrugged. “You embarrassed me.”

“No one gives a shit about what I said.”

“I care!” She kicked off her heels. He dove to the left to avoid being struck. “Those heels are the most painful shoes I have ever worn. God forbid I wear something practical.”

“We’re at my father’s retirement party,” he reminded her. “You couldn’t exactly wear your hiking boots.”

She glared at him. “I know what I’m expected to wear. I read the contract.”

She probably had it memorized. When he had approached her with this arrangement, she had disappeared with the contract for a full twenty-four hours. He had half expected to find it leaked online, but she finally resurfaced with a list of amendments.

The section about her physical appearance had been too broad. She worried what he’d make her do if she didn’t get specific. No surgical alterations. No cutting or dying her hair. She had complied with the rest of it though: high heels, a new wardrobe of skirts and dresses, make-up everyday, manicured nails. When they met, her nails had been short and unpolished. He had made her grow them out.

She went through an entire afternoon of waxing, plucking, and exfoliating. He should have sprung for a full body massage to end the day, but it hadn’t occurred to him until she’d come home with a scowl carved into her face. Red and raw, she disappeared into her room where she took her dinner.

None of the changes she made to the contract had bothered him, although he had fought her on nearly every single one. While her stubbornness impressed him, it also pissed him off. He was offering her an incredible amount of money for a six month engagement and two years of marriage. Not only did she get a weekly allowance and have access to his credit cards, but she’d also receive a large lump sum upon the finalization of their divorce.

Strangely enough, the money was the only part of the contract she had never complained about. Guess she was content with the number of zeroes.

“You’re acting like an insufferable asshole,” she said. At his stony face, she amended, “More so than usual.”

“You’re too sensitive. It was just a quick speech. They thought it was funny.”

“I don’t want to be a joke,” she snapped. “I have to coexist with these people for the next two years. Half of them believe I’m some simpleton from Hicksville, USA while the other half think I’m a gold-digging slut you picked up off a stripper pole.”

He smirked. “I did find you at a strip club.”

“I was the bartender!” she yelled.

He stepped in front of her, and she scowled at the invasion of her personal space.

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” he said, annoyed that he actually meant it. There was something about her that he couldn’t avoid when he got close like this. He had kissed her a hundred times and held her close, but it was all for the public eye. When they were alone, when he looked at her for too long, his skin felt hot and prickly. She really was quite pretty, even without makeup. But tonight, god, tonight she looked fucking amazing. It didn’t help that Cinna’s dress put her breasts on display. He ached to touch him.

Fuck. He hated when he fell into this train of thought.

“No, you’re not,” she said. “You think I’m your pet. You think you can dress me up and treat me however you want so long as you’re paying me. It makes me sick.”

His jaw dropped. “I don’t think that.”

“If you want to fuck half the women in this city, fine, but don’t parade them around in front of me. It’s insulting.”

“That wasn’t my fault.”

“Are you going to fix her computer this week?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “Take a look at her hardware?”

The truth was Cashmere hadn’t been lying when she said she hadn’t seen him. It had been over a month since he’d slept with her. Or anyone else for that matter. He wanted to blame the long hours he had put in at the office, but he had a nagging suspicion it was something else entirely.

“You’re just pissed that the landscapers finish on Sunday,” he said, anger making him too hot in his suit jacket. That was the real reason he had added those insults to his speech tonight. That fucking landscaper who somehow always ended up working with his shirt off.

Katniss frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Your lover won’t be around the house anymore. Will you start meeting him at hotels?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“That asshole. Gale Hawthorne.”

“Oh.” Her smile was smug. She held up her hand at least six inches above Peeta’s head. “Tall, dark, and handsome.”

He grabbed her wrist and crushed it between their bodies. “Are you sleeping with him?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” She tried to pull away, but she had nowhere to go. He had her trapped between his body and the table.

“So that massage he gave you was just part of their services? Will I find it on the final bill?”

The corner of her lip curled up. He couldn’t tell if it was the start of a sneer or a smile. “I knew that made you jealous.”

“It didn’t make me jealous. It pissed me off.”

Yesterday, a strange urge to spend time with her had sent him home during lunch. He knew how bored she was when she had no volunteering scheduled. When he’d arrived, he’d found her in front of the pool, lounging on her stomach in the tiny orange bikini he had picked out for her to wear on their honeymoon. Gale knelt at her side, an open bottle of sunblock on the ground. Peeta couldn’t find a streak of sunblock on his fiancée’s back. Gale had rubbed it in well.

As soon as he cleared his throat, Gale sprang to his feet, but Katniss had merely looked up and greeted Peeta as if another man’s hands hadn’t just been all over her.

“You know the contract states--”

She cut him off. “Yes. I know the contract says you can continue fucking whoever you want while I have to live like a goddamn nun for two and a half years.”

It was unfair to expect her to remain faithful when he saw whomever he pleased, but this was the world he lived in. The wife stayed home, pretended not to notice, while the men did whatever they liked. He didn’t want to get married. He was only twenty-eight, and he enjoyed being a bachelor.

“I liked flirting with him,” she said. “And he liked staring at me in a bikini. We never did anything more than that massage.”

“Would you have if I hadn’t come home?”

“No, Peeta. I’m not going to break that contract. No matter how much of an asshole you are.”

This wasn’t a new insult. Hell, she had called him that a few minutes ago when they first came into the room. But for some reason, in that moment, it stung. He had given her everything, but she couldn’t stand him.

“Why do you stay if you’re so miserable?” he asked.

“Because you sign my sister’s tuition checks.”

Finally, he let go of her wrist, but instead of backing away, he placed his hands on the table, one on either side of her.

Her gaze dropped down to his lips then back up so quickly, he wondered if he imagined it.

“Right. I forgot about the whole martyr older sister thing.”

“You wouldn’t understand. You hate your brothers.”

He didn’t mind Graham who had zero interest in the company. Rye was a different story. It was actually his fault that Peeta was in this mess in the first place. Peeta was more intelligent, more capable, and infinitely more charming, but their father had originally tapped Rye to take over as CEO. Mr. Mellark claimed Rye was “more stable.” Peeta liked to party, liked to go out with a different woman every week, and Mr. Mellark worried he wouldn’t take the position seriously.

Enter Katniss Everdeen, the bartender Peeta had met while on vacation in California. It wasn’t enough to have a steady girlfriend or even a fiancée. He had to marry her and prove to his father and the rest of his family that he was capable of commitment. Rye still sat on the Board of Directors, and he was less than thrilled with their father’s decision. If he found out that Katniss was a fake, if he suspected anything was amiss, Peeta could lose everything.

To be fair, Katniss had never said or done anything to risk Peeta’s position. Yeah, she was rude and sarcastic, but everyone knew she didn’t come from money. No one expected her to fit in.

“So you’re doing all this for your sister?” Peeta asked. “Such a sacrifice.”

“I spent half my childhood in unwashed clothes that barely fit. I spent it hungry and angry, and I did everything I could to shield Prim from the worst of it. Now that I have the chance for a lifetime of financial security for me, Prim, and her future family, of course I’m going to take it.”

Peeta didn’t know what to say. Katniss had alluded to a rough childhood, but she had never given him any details.

“Prim’s future family?” he asked, deciding to ignore the rest for now. “Not yours?”

“I’m never getting married. Not for a second time, at least.”

He wanted to ask why, but he knew she wouldn’t say. When they first met, she had brushed off his attempts at conversation, uninterested in a guy that frequented a strip club. But as the night wore on, he paid less attention to the stage and more attention to the gorgeous brunette who kept supplying him with Jack and Cokes. When he returned the next night, she had been happy to see him.

That was the worst part. She had liked him in the beginning. Everything changed when he gave her that contract. She’d been closed off ever since.

“I’m not going to Cashmere’s,” he said. “This week or any week.”

“Maybe Glimmer then?” she asked. “Clove’s been eyeing you too.”

He narrowed his eyes, annoyed that he was trying to be honest with her, and she was acting like a brat.

“You’re jealous,” he said.

“Of those women? Not a chance.”

“No, you’re jealous that I can have fun and you can’t.” He slid his knee between her legs. For whatever reason, she let him. “Is this why you’re so cranky? No one to get you off?”

“I bought a hundred and fifty dollar vibrator with your credit card,” she said with a smug smile. “I’m all set.”

“Get on the table.”

“Is that a command?”

He squeezed her hip and she hopped up onto the table, her dress riding up her thighs. He yanked her forward until she was pressed against him.

“What are you doing?” She tried to look annoyed, but she had already hooked her foot around his leg.

“I thought I could help.”

“Sorry. Rich, blond assholes aren’t my type.”

“Weird. Brunettes with smart mouths are mine.”

He hiked her right leg up around his waist. She watched his hand disappear beneath her dress.

“Oh.” The noise escaped his mouth involuntarily. “You’re not wearing underwear.”

“Can’t have pantylines,” she said. “My fiancé’s the new CEO. I don’t want to embarrass him.”

He ran a finger over her lips, surprised at how wet she was. She had an amazing poker face. He never would have guessed she was as turned on as him.

When he reached her clit, she gasped and closed her eyes, her head falling back. He leaned into the table, his pants growing uncomfortably tight, and kissed her neck.

“Do you want this?” he asked.

He slid a finger inside her and bit down her earlobe.

“Katniss, tell me what you want.”

When she remained silent, he yanked his hand away. She squeezed her legs around his waist to keep him from walking away.

“Touch me,” she said.

He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into a fierce kiss, their first without an audience. She tasted like the red wine she’d been nursing all night, sweet and bitter all at once. She shoved his suit jacket off his shoulders and wrapped her arms around him. When he yanked on her hair to force her head up, she bucked against him. He kissed a trail along her neck as he pulled the straps of her dress down. With one final tug on the bodice, the dress slipped down her stomach, revealing a tiny strapless bra.

She unhooked it herself and dropped it on the ground. It was all the permission he needed. He cupped the back of her head before lowering her onto the table. Finally, after an entire night of staring at her chest, after months of wondering how they’d feel in his hands, he palmed her left breast and lowered his mouth over the other.

She moaned as he sucked on her nipple, his teeth just grazing the sensitive bud. The back of her feet dug into his ass as she tried to pull him closer. He was two seconds away from climbing on top of her when she abruptly sat up. Her cheeks flushed, her updo ruined, he couldn’t remember a moment when she’d been more beautiful.

She unbuckled his belt and slid it out of the first loop of his dress pants. He grabbed her wrist, and she stopped.

“This is what I want,” she said.

His mouth was back on hers, his belt halfway off, when someone knocked on the door. She froze. Peeta turned around.

“Mr. Mellark?” asked an unfamiliar voice. “Are you in there?”

Peeta cleared his throat. “Is there something you need?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but your father’s been looking for you.”

“Thank you. Let him know I’ll be right there.”

He plucked Katniss’s bra off the floor and handed it to her. Using a little more force than necessary, she pushed him away with her foot. She slid off the table and hooked her bra back into place.

He could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she adjusted her dress. He couldn’t tell what’d she decide, what she’d regret.

“I’m not putting those heels back on,” she said.

“Fine. Walk around barefoot. Everyone knows you have no manners.”

She narrowed her eyes. “But I’d hate to embarrass you in front of your mistresses. That wouldn’t be very classy of me.”

They stared at each other. Something important had shifted between them, but he couldn’t read her expression.

“Let’s make a deal,” he said. “You be a good girl for the rest of the night, and I’ll use my mouth when we get home.”

She yanked on her heels and curtsied. “I hate you,” she said with a wide, fake smile.

He took the chance and kissed her. Instead of pushing him away as he feared she would, she leaned into him and kissed him back. He nearly sighed with relief.

“I know,” he said, letting her go. “Fix your hair before you come back out. You’re a mess.”

She swept past him in her disheveled state, right out the door and into the ballroom. He wanted to be annoyed, but he was too turned on. As he pulled on his suit jacket and fixed his belt, he imagined her in his bed, fisting the sheets as he went down on her. He wanted to watch her fall apart, hear the two syllables of his name break on her tongue.

Then, he wanted to bury himself inside of her.

He thought he had been prepared for this. He had been so careful when he drew up that contract, certain he’d get to maintain his bachelor lifestyle while finally taking control of his father’s company.

He wasn’t certain of anything anymore. The only thing he knew for sure was that for better or for worse, he and Katniss were stuck with each other for the next two years.

He looked forward to it.

#everlark #i wrote this

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hunbomb · 7 years ago

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study night w/jeno

guys im writing dis on my phonE so IDK if it will come out the same on laptops n shit sorrY! if it doesn’t ill fix it when i get home :) —

• bOiJ • so like you nd jeno r seatmates in science •and y'all were assigned partners for this upcoming project that was,,,,30% of ur mark boI if u didn’t do well- • the project is where u choose an abiotic specimen and make a whole long ad presentation about it • so u n jeno have to pick one and research about it • ofc jeno asks u to study at his place cause hE HAS SOME BOMBASS SNACKS!! • nd so when u get to his house yoU LITERALLY destroy his fridge like food??where??whats that?? • jeno wasn’t mad tho lmao if anything he was the one who destroyed most of it • when u were studying u noticed that jeno was rly flustered and was stuttering a lot but whatEvs hes probs sick or smth •HAHHAH NO • anyway,,, around 5:00 u decide to start making the presentation •and guess what!! • u n jenos hand touch when u both reach for the same markeR •ZING MOTHAFUCKGEDJGS • like cliche but cute nd y'all kinda blushed and looked away •but then u realized u still needed that marker • but so did jeno • so y'all touch hands!!again!! • cue you guys being flustered • jeno invites u over for dinner cause u wanted to et this project done instead of leaving it last minute • so around 6:00 his mom comes home and is like • “oH!!!-! honey,,,, is this???the girl???u always talk about???the,,,one who u sit beside in SCIENCE??? the one u have a crus-” • “mOm!!2!1!!1!” lol jeno was so flustered he couldn’t speak or do anything he couldn’t breatje • “oh? you talk about me???” • yO HIS HEART STO PPED HE FORGOT U WAS STUFYING WITH HIM • his mind was going crAzy and his mom juST!left!him!in!the!dining!room!with!his!crush! AFTER SHE SAID ALL THAT SHE JDBDBD • he slowly turns to u and is like,,,“maybe” • thEn you broke out into the biggest smile anD JENOS HEART JUST!!!!!!! HOW COULD ONE BE SO BEAUTIFUL JSBDX • you have a huge grin on your face,,a cute and flustered look,,and just so u look so happy cause- • “that’s good cause i talk about u too!!” •OHSMSH JENO DIED NINE TIMES • he kinda just shyly looks at u with this big smile and grabs ur hands •"wanna,,call this study night a stuDY DATE?“ • u died right then and there omygodhs • secretly his mom was filmin from behind a wall • quickly u peck his cheek and nod ur head vigorously • then you guys (with red ass faces may i add) get back to ur studying cause like its due in 3 days and u do not want to loose 30% of ur mark • time skip 2 dinner • his mom made some rly rly rly good noodles • so u and jeno were stuffing ur faces lowkey • but then • "so r u guys dating yet?” • jeno choked on a piece of meat • and u choked on sum noodles • nd y'all look at eachother with wide eyes • until jeno just says • “wanna be my gf” • and ur like “• "ya sure,,,BOYFRIEND” • then secretly under the table ur hand intertwine and its so cute!!! • so as ur leaving jenos house you quiCKLY PECK HIS!!LIPS!!! AND DASI RUN THE FUCK AWAY CAUSE KDNS you!!!just!!kissed!!lee!!jeno!!!!! • jenos Linda just frozen with his hand on his lips and just staring at ur retreating form boI HES WHIPPED FOR U he’s do anything for u and dhhdhdhd he loves u sm like he’s liked u since the 3rd grade and y'all were like in grade 11 now • his mother filmed everything btw

#sorry this sux #I'm in Japan bro #no time #nct #nct dream #nct127 #nct u #smrookies #jeno #jeno lee #lee jeno #nct jeno #jeno scenarios #kpop #kpop scenarios

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sidrisa-blog · 7 years ago

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Power and Magic

Read it here on AO3

Pairings: Loki x Reader and the lightest Sif X Thor

Chapter: 13/104 Magic

Warnings: the usual: sex, death, and violence with light smatterings of misogynoir

Summary: The princes come with their exalted Father arriving amidst a hail of pomp and pageantry all parties would rather forgo. This is war, where men die, their blood purchasing land and peace until it's time for more men and more blood. But your mother adheres to the old rules of hearth and hospitality. The Lords of Asgard must be given their due despite the grim business precipitating their arrival. It is too bad they don't deserve it. There is nothing to recommend him, Loki, Prince of Asgard. He is rude and cold and childish. You try to find some merit in him. You find none. Exactly none. But maybe, after trial and tribulation,

You will.

That pain in your heart dulls when you later see Se’risa dressed in trousers and a tunic, her servant’s smock folded neatly on your bed.

“Mistress Aleene says I don't have to work for her anymore and that Queen Frigga granted me permission to go to school with the noble kids.”

She's unhappy, obvious in the way her bottom lip pouts. She fights her tears and loses when you nod, hiding your bare wrist from her behind your back.

“Princess! Please don't get in trouble for me!”

Your heart breaks when she bows, hand over her heart mimicking what you did for Loki. She’s too young for such things, you think, swearing loyalty or fealty. “Please! Don't trouble yourself for me. I'm just a dirty servant!”

“Oh ‘Risa please don't do that.”

If you had the strength you would have lifted her from the floor into your arms, but after a day’s worth of business and errands you can barely keep upright.

Still, you try. Kneeling and putting her back on her feet so the two of you are face to face.

“You aren't a servant anymore, you hear me? You’re not a servant. You’re a princess just like me.”

“I am not! You are the princess and princesses shouldn’t waste their time or their…”

Se’risa squirms in your embrace to pull at your arm. She holds it between you, staring at your naked wrist like a murder weapon, eyes welling with tears. “Princesses shouldn’t waste their precious things on dirty servants!”

You laugh, it’s your first reaction. Nothing’s funny, you’re just amused she found out so quickly. Or Aleene purposefully told the girl to inflict unnecessary damage. But Se’risa’s face breaks when you laugh, possibly mistaking it as directed at her. Damage control.

“That’s what you’re worried about? A silly bracelet? Do you know how many of these I have?”

One. Only one.

“One for every day of the week. Two for holidays. Three for feast days.”

Se’Risa sniffs. “You’re lying.”

You are, Loki thinks, secreted behind the semi-closed door to your room. And a poor one at that.

He came here after his meeting with his mother. He hadn’t settled on what exactly his intentions were, unable to choose between kissing or annoying you senseless, both scratching the same (well not exactly the same) primal itch in his brain.

He hesitates when he hears the child's blubbering, stopping long enough to go from hesitation to eavesdropping.

He's seen the sum total of the jewels you escaped with. You’re no where close to having something different for every day of the week. And aside from your crown, that bracelet was your finest piece.

“No it's true.” You're too deep in this hole so you keep digging, hoping to find another escape. “One for every day. So it's nothing, especially when compared to you. I have so many bracelets, they mean nothing, and I have only one you, so you mean everything.”

You dab her eyes with your sleeve. “Chin up. Princesses don't stare at the floor, okay?”

Se’risa perks instantly, beads clinking softly with the movement.

“Before I go to lessons tomorrow will you help me with my hair? And I can pick out your bracelet for the day?”

Your heart drops, she just won’t let it go. So you double down, hoping the hole you’re digging won’t cave in on top of you. “Of course.”

Shit.

You don't hear Loki’s soft chuckle from outside your door, nor hear him tell a servant to bring you to his chambers in hour. You're still focused on what tale you're going to tell this girl in the morning, torn between admitting the truth and faking illness as an excuse to avoid getting dressed for the day. Before you have the chance to decide, Loki’s servant knocks.

“My Lady, Lord Loki requests your presence.”

Se’risa makes a face. “I don't like him. He says mean things.”

“He does, but they don't hurt when he says them.”

“Is it because you like him?”

You clear your throat hoping to avoid answering but the girl did witness you kissing him so…

“No, it's because when he says them he doesn't make the words hurt. If he ever does, trust me I'll let him know.”

“But you do like him?”

“Admittedly…”

“Why?”

Oh Hel. You don't even know exactly why, how are you going to explain that to a child?

“I'll tell you when I return.”

Se’risa sneers, makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “Fine.”

If your room is palatial by your admittedly narrow standards, then Loki’s rooms span the length and breadth of the world. You could quarter your Cavalry here with their horses and half the palace guard alongside.

“This way.”

The servant leads you down corridors of marble and stone into a sitting room set with dinner for two.

A small round table, lit with crystal candelabras. The plates are gold, covered with domes to keep the food under them warm. A decanter of wine sits ready to pour, two cut crystal glasses ready to receive.

The silverware is actual silver, not that you could tell but it's a damn good contextual guess. You count the knives again wondering why there's a need for more than one before you…

Your hand strikes without thinking.

Your father's dagger! He must have left it out in a moments inattentiveness and forgotten it. You snatch for it, ready to claim victory but your hand slides right through it.

“Shame on you. I'm not sure if I'm amused at your gullibility or offended that you think I'm that stupid.”

He appears in smoke as the dagger disappears into it. His magic smells like the threat of rain on a summer night, when lighting strikes but no water falls. Thor is the Thunder Prince, he sounds the noise that makes the Heavens shake. But Loki is the flash that comes just before, the one you don’t expect, the one that strikes you dead before you even hear thunder’s boom.

You're reminded, you really never forgot, how frightening he could be. But you've never been afraid of him. And you aren't now. He is deadly fearsome but has never once made you feel afraid.

He's dressed well. Black and green sleeveless tunic, long enough to touch the floor draped over a linen shirt with simple black trousers.

You look extremely pathetic by comparison. Leather trousers and a modest linen shirt. You’re dressed for riding not a dinner with a prince.

“Had I known you were inviting me to dinner, I would have dressed better.”

“Next time then, Princess.”

“Next time how about you ask first?”

You’re quick. He loves it. You don’t have to think, you respond. You two trade wit seamlessly.

“Ahh, shall I present myself to your guardian and beg her permission?” He clasps his hands in mock supplication. “Please will you let your mistress come out and play?”

“She'd only tell you no.”

“So the foal doesn't like me hmm?”

“It's precisely because you call her that, that she doesn't. You know her name”

“I prefer yours, Princess.”

He wins this round, but only because you let him, desiring to let the sound of your name like that sink into your ears, uninterrupted by your witty retort.

“Well I’m here, my Lord.”

He escorts you to your table for two, pulls out your chair, pours your wine.

“I half expected this plate to be full of hay you know,” It’s not. It’s some delicious roast boar.

“If this is not to your liking I’m sure we can find you sweetgrass in the stables.”

He’s surprised when your eyes light up, wide and wonder-filled. “You’re people don’t really eat--?”

“No! Half-wit. The stables. Walking is overrated anyway. Put me on a horse and I’ll be just fine. Four pairs of legs are better than two.”

“You aren’t strong enough for it.”

It’s not a question, he knows. He can tell by looking at you.

“I know. But, I will be.”

After dinner, he leads you from the sitting room, past overstuffed chairs and overstuffed bookshelves and into his inner chambers. There’s an armor stand against a far wall, a great gold and horned helm sitting atop it. Staves and scepters lean against the walls. Weapons of very type and shape lay strewn about the floor. He’s carved a very narrow empty space, pushed back the creeping horde of his things to make space enough to navigate through.

His trinkets are fascinating, he’s like a magpie, travelling out among the lands and bringing back the best treasures of the realm.

This is Loki’s heart, you realize. This place. You’re here in his heart and it beats with all the magic in room.

Something snags at you, a burr or thistle pulling at your consciousness. Why are you here?

You ignore the feeling, choosing to run your fingers over his collection of ceremonial knives.

In the middle of the display, your dagger sits in a place of honor. You purposefully ignore it, shooting at your host a glare that makes him laugh.

“That one is actually yours, go on, take it.”

You cluck your tongue. “Fool me once.”

He isn’t lying. That one is the genuine article. He reaches around you, bringing him close enough to kiss and picks up the knife with his hand, it doesn’t pass through him.

You grumble a string of curses in your tongue and the common one, so foul even Loki’s scandalized.

But he laughs, it's light, birdlike. It doesn’t rumble the belly or throb in your blood the way your father’s laughs did. His sits high, on unreachable branches, ready to fly away if disturbed. He doesn’t truly laugh often, so when he does, it doesn’t linger, like snatches of birdsong. There is no ice in him when he laughs unguardedly.

Just magic.

You’re quiet for a long time as you explore his things. You ask him questions and he answers. Where this came from, what does that do. As he answers your questions, he tries to figure the answer to his own. Why did he bring you here? There’s the superficial answer, better put, the lie for why you’re here. But the question remains.

And you ask it.

“Why did you bring me here? Really?”

You turn to him, you want to touch him but you don’t, unsure if you’ve earned that privilege yet. “Dinner was lovely and this place is, it’s magic. And as wonderful as all this is, I don’t think you brought me here to show me your toys.”

He didn’t.

“Close your eyes.”

That wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

“What do you want from me?” You persist.

“For you to close your eyes, horse girl.”

“Loki. Tell me.”

“Princess, trust me.”

He hasn’t given you a reason to. He doesn’t expect you to. But you take a deep breath and close your eyes anyway, gifting it to him, making him question everything all over again.

She deserves better.His mother echoes in his head.

The spell is quick, over and done in a few heartbeats.

“Open.”

There is a collection of jewelry in front of you. Bracelets. Several velvet cushions full. One for every birthstone. One for every precious gem.

“What? What are these.”

He takes your hand, the one missing the braided loop and guides it to the piece in the top most, farthest left corner. “This is for Firstday.” He moves it over to the right. “And Secondday.” He moves you again. “And Thirdday.” Down the line marking the days of the week. In the second row there’s two bracelets piled on top of each other. A row below that, there are three.

“You heard me.” You gasp.

“I did. ‘One for every day.’ And so forth and so on.”

You draw your hand away from his, pull it back like he burns you. “I can’t take these.” You’re answer is quick and finite. Immutable. You will not take any of these with you. You stutter and amend yourself, trying to salvage your manners. “I mean, thank you. Thank you. This is...I’m in your debt again assuredly but I can’t.”

“Why?” No accusation or hurt in his question. It is just a question.

“This is too rich a gift Loki. I can’t take it.”

You’ll be in his debt, you’re already in his debt. This is too much kindness, and too much kindness is never offered freely.

“These kinds of things, you should give them to…”

You are the Princess of a small kingdom. Your wealth and prestige can't match that of Asgard but being royalty and a woman besides, certain universal truths will out.

Nothing is given to a Princess for free. There's always a motive, something to gain.

Back home, men and women vied for your affection. They wanted the throne next to yours or your favor which would assure them rich rewards. True friends were rare beyond the obligation of Captain and soldier. Fa’Rey--before her dagger proved you wrong--was the only one of them you really trusted.

You left no lovers behind, you're pretty sure you don't even know what that kind of love feels like. So why all this?

“You should give them to someone special. Someone who means something to you. Not me.”

One kiss ago, Loki was a stranger. He saved your life twice over, he restored Se’risa to you. He was an infuriating bastard who you couldn't stop thinking about. But he was still a stranger.

One kiss later, he still is. And you still can't stop thinking about him.

But he's still a stranger.

“You’re a stranger Loki, I don’t know anything about you and you don’t know anything about me. All I know is...that kiss was really good and I’d like more. That’s all I know. And I have no idea what’s going on in your head, if you even feel...What do you want from me, Loki?”

Everything. He wants you, to kiss you again like he did yesterday, but he’s greedy. He wants more. Loki is selfish and gluttonous, he’s had a taste and now he wants you whole. He could ask, or offer, or imply his wishes, leave his door open for you to walk through at any time and for you, his door would always be open.

But with the way you look at him, the way you trust him so earnestly, he knows it would never just stop at his bed. He’s greedy, he knows the depths of his faults. He wouldn’t stop until he’s got your heart in his jaws. And you can’t know that, you can never know that.

“She deserves better.”

“You misunderstand me, none of this is for you.”

Your heart drops, makes a new home around your ankles. “Oh.” You try to put it back in place, salvage some of your pride. “Then why?”

“You’re a poor liar. The worst in fact.”

“I don’t under--”

He interrupts you. “So here’s a bracelet. One for every day of the week. Two for holidays. Three for feast days, so you don’t have to lie to the poor little filly anymore and my reputation remains intact.”

He’s satisfied when the smile returns to your face, he’s held off the truth for a little while yet. He’ll tow the line for now as best he can, keep the beast at bay.

Your heart lifts, somewhere in the clouds now. “Why didn’t you say so.”

He forgets himself, his turmoil, the moment your lips are on his again. He simply forgets.

There’s no doubt this time as to who kisses whom. You wrap your arms around his neck, close your eyes, and it’s magic again. Magic that sparks between you like lightning. You smell rain and leather, you hear thunder in the low groan that rumbles either in his chest or yours, you can’t tell anymore.

Yes! This is what he’s craved all day. This. Just like this. You close and soft and yielding in his arms. Not too much, he warns himself. Savor this, make it last as long as you can. Maybe it will be different this time. Maybe you’ll be different this time.

He keeps you close when you part, won’t let you get too far away so that he can’t kiss you again.

“You saved my ass again.”

“And what would you have done princess, had I not?”

“I considered faking sick.”

“Keep your boasts more modest next time, or you will drain my treasury.”

You laugh and kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Why didn’t you just get me my bracelet back?”

You watch him select one, thick gold leaves studded with smaller emeralds. You give him your wrist and he slides it on, fitting as though made for you.

“It’d be easy to return your bracelet to you. So I didn’t. Besides, I suspect your pride is so damned prickly you'd figure out a way to pay Aleene with another one of your jewels and I’ve got better things to do than retrieve family treasures from petty creatures like her. This is will do.”

“Yes, it will.” You echo, and you aren’t talking about the jewelry.

WHY DID WRITE THIS GARBAGE??? (That I love so freaking much it defies belief)

#power and magic #loki fanfictio #loki x reader #loki x black!reader #mcu fanfiction #cheesy #so much cheese it should be france

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afangirlsplaylist · 8 years ago

Text

Counsel Me (Day 6) - Link

Author: afangirlsplaylist

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Emotions and angst, infidelity, emotional infidelity.

Chapter: 7/?

Word Count: 2,694

Summary: When Rhett and Link’s friendship hits a breaking point they turn to a therapist, who proposes a difficult idea. Very loosely prompted by THIS.

Read it on archiveofourown

He'd breathed easy knowing he had all of yesterday to think about it, and when that was over he told himself he had all of today. Now that ‘today’ was actually here he was starting to sweat a little, and it was fast becoming impossible to avoid it. Between the ghost of Rhett's lips still lingering on his and his phone constantly buzzing he didn't have much choice.

11:30 am

Rhett: I need to see you.

I need to see you too - Link thought, but he still had to worry about what would happen once he had him. They were both long past denial, but there wasn’t anything to bargain. The worry and the familiar dull ache burning in his chest surged up and he was just starting to get used to it when his phone buzzed again.

12:00 pm

Rhett: Link… Please.

Please… what? Link silently asked him through the phone. Please ruin everything for us and end the experiment? None of that seemed good for anybody. Yet he still had to fight down the small part of him that argued It’d be good for you.

2:00 pm

Rhett: I left work for the day. I’m done with this.

But we can’t be done with this - Link argued in his head, knowing it was the truth. By starting this thing in the first place they’d unknowingly destined themselves to ruin and now they had to live in the debris.

2:02 pm

Link: You aren’t making this easy bo

He imagined Rhett sighing, ruffling his hair with his hand in frustration.

2:05 pm

Rhett: could we drop the nicknames for now?

Link winced. He was right, endearments weren’t helping their resistance at all.

2:07pm

Link: Sorry.

He couldn’t blame Rhett for ignoring him, he knew it was weak response before he’d even sent it but he had nothing else. There was nothing else that could appropriately sum up what he thought about all this in a text.

2:30pm

Rhett: made any sense of this yet?

Of course, he’d ask that. They’d had an almost telepathic sense of each other for so long that he probably should have seen it coming.

2:35pm

Link: Have you?

2:37pm

Rhett: I feel like I’m gonna die and I’m about as close to figuring this out as you are to not eating cereal. You tell me.

Link chuckled quietly, stifling the sound with part of his hand in case Christy or the kids walked in and asked who he was talking to.

2:40pm

Link: sounds about right brother.

2:43pm

Rhett: you could probably go easy on the ‘brother’ too.

Yeah, because we were joined at the mouths yesterday, Link finished for him. He stopped his thoughts there before they wandered back to the moment in their office yesterday.

2:50pm

Link: bye, Rhett.

His phone went so still and silent after he sent the text that he almost started to miss the hum. It was all that let him know that there was someone else in on this with him.

It didn’t vibrate again till Link was sitting in Carole’s waiting room at therapy,, but it wasn't a text this time. Rhett had answered in the form of an email sent from a personal address. He didn’t need to ask why Rhett hadn’t chosen to use his family or business emails once he’d read it.

Dear Link,

I’m not going to insult either of us by pretending we aren’t a bad idea, or that there aren’t other people involved - you’re too smart for that (remember I said that, you won’t hear it again). But I ain’t going to sit on my ass and pretend like it isn’t happening either.

I love you. But if you decide you just want to be friends when the end of tomorrow comes I’ll be okay with it. We’ve settled with that for this long so I can keep settling. It won’t be enough but I could.

Always,

- Rhett

“Shit.” Link muttered under his breath, earning a glare from the woman next to him. Her expression softened immediately when she saw the look on his face so he turned away quickly. No doubt she thought he was depressed or something, but he didn’t have the energy to care.

4:19pm

Link: you can’t just do that to me before therapy.

He waited a moment before adding -

4:20pm

Link: love you too.

“Charles Neal?”

Link’s head jerked up at the sound of his name, trudging over to a woman beckoning him over.

He regretted following her the second he was in Carole's office, which felt more suffocating than before. The walls seemed like prison bars, the air was dry, and he felt hot at the collar. He knew the place was supposed to be inviting and comfortable, and to most people it probably was, but it wasn’t to him. Carol’s eyes staring into his like they could see into his soul weren't helping either.

"We didn't get to finish what we started the other day." She began, already taking a seat at her desk.

"I just thought I should probably watch the videos alone, and things were happening with the family. You know how it is." Link lied smoothly.

"Okay." She said, though she could tell she didn't believe him at all. "How are things now?"

"Good." Link said vaguely, biting his lip and settling further into the couch as if she wouldn't be able to read him there.

They both suffered through ten minutes of near perfect silence while he tortuously sidestepped the elephant in the room, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. He had to give her credit, she tried her best to reel him into talking about Rhett, but he couldn’t stop himself from clamming up.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” She tried a final time.

“Not really.” Link deflected.

“Charles this only works if -”

“I just want to be anywhere other than my world right now.” Link cut her off.

“You can do what you want with the time if it helps.” She told him, watching carefully as Link spotted a black and gray fidget cube on the coffee table. His hand dove for it and he avoided eye contact while he moved it in his hand.

“Has something happened?” She asked knowingly.

Link didn’t answer that question at all, his finger absentmindedly flicking across the cube’s switches. It was beyond awkward and he was considering walking out on another session when she spoke again.

“If you’ve seen Rhett it’s okay.”

Link's eyes immediately jerked up to hers, going wide and betraying him

"The technique’s been used so many times that ignoring it is kind of expected.” She said gently.

Link managed a genuine smile back this time, while his finger swiped over the cube's rollerball.

“Did you two have a fight again?” She pressed.

More silence filled the room, the only sound breaking it being the repetitive clicks and clacks of the cube. The hour was almost over before he spoke again. "Have you known someone as long as this?"

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I have friends from high school.

Link shook his head. "I'm talking from childhood here."

She frowned and shook her head. "I can't say many people have. You two are quite a rarity."

He grinned down at his cube but didn't elaborate on the question.

“Is there any way I could borrow this?” He asked.

“You can keep it if you like. I have a whole lot of them. It helps if patients need stimulating or if they just need something to touch.”

Link nodded, though he didn’t get up to move. “We've got a bunch of these at the studio, we used them for an episode."

“Sounds interesting.” She commented.

Link continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Our kids called dibs on them all.”

Carole laughed. “Well, you'll have to hide this one.”

Link nodded, running a thumb tenderly along the grooves of it before slipping it in his pocket.

“Link?” She asked warily.

The use of his name surprised him enough to let his guard down. He was so used to her using Charles during the sessions that he’d almost forgotten that she knew him by any other name.

“If you decide you want to tell me you can call me. Even after tomorrow.” She offered.

“Thanks. I’m a jerk I’m sorry.” He said, hoping the sincerity in his voice was getting through.

“I’ve seen worse.” She teased, rising from her chair to shake his hand and hold open the door to let him out.

“Thanks Carole.” He said a little sadly, granting her a polite kiss on the cheek before he left. “I’ll see you in a couple days.”

When he got home he smiled and lied through his teeth, making up a story when Christy asked how counseling went. He'd been doing it the whole week so now it was almost a routine. Typically he liked routine, but this one he hated.

He’d kept up a brave face when he walked through the door, he’d kept up a brave face during dinner and he’d kept up a brave when she led him by the hand to their room. It was like constantly filming since he could never drop the facade. She was the viewer and the show was dead if he let himself look sad.

Sleep was the only chance he could get but even that came slowly and uneasily. He was stuck imagining the end of tomorrow on loop - when all this would be over and he'd have Rhett back. His fingers tapped lightly at his bed’s headboard as he closed his eyes and tried to think of anything else, but it wouldn't happen. The tapping soon turned into light strokes as he visualized Rhett in his arms, clutching him tightly to be sure he couldn’t leave again.

He fell asleep to the vision of Rhett’s hands running over him - gliding up his legs, running down his back, and pressing into his sides. He couldn't remember if he dreamed the sharp intake of breath he drew when Rhett’s fingers finally brushed over the fabric of his pants, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

By morning all he could remember was a feeling of being both hot and cold, with sweat running down his neck and his hand still lying limply by the headboard. Worst and most confusing of all was the uncomfortable hardness he could feel throbbing in his pajama pants.

It felt strangely foreign - as if he was feeling someone else’s arousal, and the ache of it had him clenching his eyes shut once more. His fingers curled around the headboard again and he gripped it hard for support, while he struggled to resist grinding into the mattress. His hips were almost hurting with the effort it took to stop them moving automatically, but he fought hard.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be surprised by his body - typically on a morning like this next to his wife, or after an unexpectedly heated moment on G/M/M. But responding to the image of his friend’s body was a new experience altogether.

He didn’t dare ask Christy for help so he sighed, keeping his eyes closed and willing his erection to calm. Dealing with the throbbing felt like a final punishment. He wanted her slender arms and soft blonde locks cascading against him - but he also wanted Rhett’s long, large torso and beard against him too. He wanted it so bad that he wanted to scream into his sheets.

It wasn’t like he was a strange to having Rhett in his bed. The thought made him nostalgic for when they would share beds on trips, or in motels back when they couldn't afford to spring for two rooms. It even brought but memories of sleepovers, when Rhett’s bedroom floor felt too dark and cold or Rhett’s back was too sore to sleep on Link’s floor. Or best of all, when he’d done it just to spite Rhett’s dad.

Rhett had forgotten to close the curtains that night so Link found himself waking up first to sunlight streaming in. He rose from his mattress on Rhett’s floor and looked up fondly at the sight of Rhett sleeping soundly in a mess of limbs splayed across the big bed. For a second he toyed with the idea of waking him up for the sake of it, but he slipped quietly out of the room when he decided he couldn't break that deep sleep.

The allure of bacon bits and cereal drove him towards the kitchen, but he paused when he heard voices behind the dining room door. He figured Rhett’s parents were probably getting ready for work, but something told him he shouldn’t walk in just yet.

He hesitated before he pressing an ear to the wood of the door, and it was only a moment before realized what they were talking about.

“Did they sleep in the same bed?” He heard Mr.Mclaughlin ask, before Mrs.Mclaughlin’s sweet voice answered back.

“Of course not, Link sleeps on the mattress you know that."

“I don’t what to think about those two anymore...” Mr. Mclaughlin trailed off, and Link didn’t like the implications in his voice. Apparently, mama Di didn’t either.

“Jim!” She scolded.

“I’m not saying they aren’t good boys.” He assured her. “I’m just saying that spending too much time with a boy ain’t good for Rhett. He’s never gonna find a girl with Link hanging on him all the time.”

The words settled in Link’s heart like a knife, wounding him deeply. He’d always liked Mr. Mclaughlin. He’d celebrated Christmas with him and his family, he’d been cheered on by him at soccer games and he'd even come on family vacations a couple of times. So to hear him talking now as if he was some kind of parasite he and his son tolerated stung.

“You can’t go assuming anything dangerous now.” Mrs. Mclaughlin said sternly, and Link could almost picture her waggling her bread and butter knife at her husband. “Those boys are good for each other.”

Link’s heart soared with gratitude for mama Di at that, and he pressed his ear closer to the door to hear Mr. Mclaughlin’s reply.

“That’s just the problem, maybe there’s something more to it," Jim said quickly - as if he'd been waiting to say this for a while. "I mean look at his hair.”

Link ran a hand through his long, silky locks defensively, letting it sift through his fingers. It wasn’t the first time he’d been teased for his hair, plenty of the boys at school had seen to that, but he’d always privately prided himself on it.

“It’s girly." Jim continued, and the knife in Link's heart drove in further. "You gotta realize how that looks when he’s around Rhett so much.”

Link gritted his teeth and seethed, his eyes going red with anger.

“If you say so, Jim.” Dianne sighed.

At that moment he was alarmed by the sound of a scraping chair, so Link hurried away as quietly as possible, stopping only when he reached Rhett’s bedroom door.

Rhett was still dead to the world when Link stepped inside and eased the door shut, walking over to the bed without thinking about it. Rhett stirred when Link nudged his legs over lightly and groaned when he felt Link’s weight falling onto the bed.

“Wha’ you doing bo?” Rhett mumbled, automatically rolling over to give his friend more room.

“Proving a point.” Link said, his voice muffled as he grabbed Rhett’s arm and draped it over him.

Too tired to be bothered by it, all Rhett did was make a noncommittal grunt and let Link curl up in his arm. “W’as that?” He asked sleepily.

That they couldn’t tear me away from you if they tried - Link thought, but he said nothing. Thankfully, Rhett seemed like he wasn’t up to pressing the matter so he went right back to sleep.

They were out of bed before Mrs.Mclaughlin could wake them for breakfast.

#rhink #rhink fanfiction #counsel me #my stuff #sims attempts writing

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suchawonderfullife · 8 years ago

Text

Day 8- Blood test results and reaching my limit

I was glad to have a 10am doctors appointment this morning, after a challenging night. I had symptoms I’d never experienced before and one’s I hadn’t had since I was seriously ill. My liver and spleen were aching so bad I had to lie flat, sitting up made them feel like they were getting squashed and caused too much pain. I couldn’t breathe very well (not like air hunger). My limbs felt like they were made of cement and I didn’t even have the strength to cut up my dinner. At least my mental symptoms had dissapated. Whatever my Dr did that day on my emotions, worked wonders. I was back to my positive self and lying on the couch feeling physically like poo on a stick, all I thought was “my body is healing, he will fix me tomorrow, it’s OK.” I used a few essential oils which helped lesson my suffering as well, so I’m grateful for that.

I told my Dr all my symptoms in the appointment. He said “I think your body has reached its limit.” He asked me if I wanted to cut back on some treatments. I asked him for his opinion on that. I don’t want to slow down if I can keep going, but last night was also borderline unbearable. His opinion was to back off from treating my liver and spleen as he had been prescribing my lux treatment (light therapy I’ve done everyday in the clinic) to be done on my liver and spleen everyday. With all the tinctures, tablets and detoxing therapies he said we were moving things around and stirring things up probably faster than my body can handle. So we cut massage, lux and PEMF for the time being. He gave me some homeopathic remedies on the spot and I felt instant relief.

I was also experiencing stomach pain that felt as if the muscles were being twisted. I’ve experienced this since I started the tinctures, but coupled with my liver and spleen pain I found myself constantly rubbing my tummy and feeling very uncomfortable. He got me up on the table and started scanning my body. His response was “so we’ve pissed off the bacteria.” That’s why my stomach hurts. The way he says it, with his American accent too just makes it funnier. I imagined the (bad) bacteria throwing a protest in my stomach and trying hard not to die.

Then he started working on my diaphram. He explained something about the pain also stemming from there, but I can’t remember why. So for every area of my diaphram he pushed on, I had to rate the pain from 0-10 (10 being surgery without anesthetic and 0 being how it feels right now without touching it). My responses ranged from 3-7. Then he got his fascia machine and another, smaller vibrating machine and starting working on those areas. Then he’d push on them again and I’d rate the pain. This time it would be lower, I started to get 1′s mixed in with the higher numbers.

We did multiple rounds of this as he explained that my diaphram being in bad shape would have contributed to feeling like I couldn’t breathe last night. It got to the point where I had mainly 0′s, a few 1′s and then 1 spot was still a 6-7. It was at the bottom of my liver. It was funny because my Dr kept working hard on it and it didn’t want to budge. I just kept coming back with “ouch, 7.” “How about now?” “7.″ “Ok try now.” “6.” Because my liver is irritated from being over worked, it’s as if it’s being defiant and just wants to stay angry (I can totally relate). So in frustration (as a joke) he said “your liver is saying FUCK YOU I’M PISSED!” haha. He then rubbed the essential oil Hyssop onto the area and found a few homepathic drops his testing said I needed and put those on the area. The pain went down to a 3 and we thought that was a pretty good effort, considering the other 10 areas were now a 0 or 1 and my liver was basically being a stubborn little shit.

Then we went through my blood test results. I’m impressed with how comprehensive they are. He wrote notes on my test and explained what it all meant. Here are some of the findings:

- Glucose levels are too high, so I have problems with regulating sugar (which I had already known from my two Dr’s at home). - Creatinine (HCL) is too low. - Calcium is too low. - Magnsium is too low (and not because I don’t absorb it like I thought, he said it’s because my body needs too much of it right now to function) - Globulin is too high (which is an indicator of leaky gut. I asked him about working out my food sensitivities and he said right now that would be like putting brand new windows on a burning building- let’s put the fire out first). - I’m VERY deficient in zinc (which can create all kinds of symptoms). - LDH is very low (which is something to do with blood sugar. He said that because this is so low, losing weight would be impossible. I could eat really strict and minute amounts and it would change nothing as this is the hormone you need to lose weight. Basically, my liver instantly converts sugar to fat, rather than utilising it as energy and this process cannot be reversed without normal levels of this hormone). - GGT is too low (this is what helps your body process alcohol. Your body produces its own ‘alcohol’ in the liver and this is why I sometimes wake up feeling hungover without even drinking, because what it produces on its own it can’t even process). - Ferritin is too way high (this is an indicator of oxidative stress). - Cholesterol is far too low. - Triglycerides are too high. - HDL cholesterol (the good one) is too low, whilst VLDL (bad one) is too high. - White Blood Cells are way too high. - MVC is too high (which is an indicator of either b6, b9 or b12 deficiency). - Markers for my thryoid were too low. - There was another marker that indicated my blood vessels were scarred. This means my body is filling those scars with cholesterol to protect them. - Another marker indicated my kidneys were under extreme stress and they were having to filter so much ‘crap’.

There were other findings but I’ve forgotten what they mean and would struggle to explain it. All very interesting and worth knowing for my recovery. Basically what we summed up was that my body is under oxidative stress as most of these results pointed towards that. He explained to me twice what oxidative stress meant, but my brain cannot retain it. So I googled it and here is what it said: “OS is essentially an imbalance between the production of free radicals and the ability of the body to counteract or detoxify their harmful effects through nuetralization by antioxidants.” I do remember my Dr saying that I will need to take a lot of antioxidants to help counteract this.

We didn’t start treating any of these issues yet. RIght now we are giving my body a little rest so that my organs can stop throwing a tantrum. Still feeling very happy with the process and even though I was quite unwell last night, this is an idicator of things changing and bad things dying in my body.

#lyme #Lyme Disease #lyme treatment #chronic lyme #chronic illness #chronic fatigue syndrome #hansa #hansa center

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thattahoeecojournalist · 7 years ago

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For His Honor

Title: For His Honor Word Count: 3502, definitely my longest short story yet Project/Pairing: Bellamarre RP, Look...who else would it be. (Raphael/Sebastian) Genres: One shot, shipping, Nobility, Raph isn't comfortable, But it's ok cuz Sebastian kinda isn't either, some adventure Warnings: Some cussing, Some alcohol mention, a sword fight or two might've happened, sexual implication Notes: So this is from Raphael's point of view. Which was tough but rewarding at the same time because now I think I have a firmer grasp of who he is as a person. I also got to introduce some concepts of what they'd have to do after their time at Bellamarre. Enjoy this slightly longer monster of a short story

I tugged at my tie, loosening it from my collar. These damn things can be so uncomfortable. Within moments of relief, Sebastian’s hands found their way to my chest and tightened it back to it’s original position. “Darlin’ I’m not sure if this fits me,” I objected, already putting a few fingers underneath the potential noose. He took his flute of undoubtedly expensive wine in one hand and wrapped a hand around my neck, smoothing out my collar. “It’s supposed to feel tight” he said quietly. I looked around at all the other rich people milling about the outdoor event. All of them seemed to be wearing tight custom made uniforms too. I sighed and the material tightened across my chest. “We don’t have to be here for that long anyhow,” he said smiling softly. “We can go after Linda’s coronation” he said throwing a look over at the young woman currently adorned with a very expensive ballgown and talking among a small crowd of stuffy looking old people. He downed the rest of the wine as though it were whiskey and set the glass on a passing waiter's serving tray. “You planning on getting real drunk before watching someone become queen?” I asked, narrowing my eyes and fiddling with my cufflinks. Another waiter came by with a fresh tray of wine and gave us each a glass. He began to drink that one speedily as well. “She’s not becoming queen. She’s becoming a baroness like her mother before her” his mouth turned down at the corners. “And her family is not fond of my family” “Then why were we invited” I asked. All this noble stuff makes no sense. Everyone in this place seemed to be involved with each other in some sort of demented fashion. And Sebastian’s family seemed to be right in the middle of it all. He finished off his glass and reached for mine. I blinked out of my confused state and managed to pull my wine away from his hands. “Because I am a new heir to the lineage and supposedly am an example of what the Lascelles bloodline was meant to be” I didn’t respond, choosing instead to watch ‘Baroness Linda’ put a delicate hand to her mouth and giggle at whatever a military dressed man was saying to her. “They’re curious about us” he summed up, watching them with me. The military man with the huge mustache looked up and locked eyes with Sebastian, nodding slightly. With a jangle of war decorations, he had bid goodbye to the new baroness and stood in front of him, straightening his lapel. “Sebastian, how long has it been since we’ve last met” he smiled with only one part of his mouth.Like he couldn’t be bothered to use that much effort. In response Sebastian inclined his head at him and clasped his hands behind his back. Only I could see that he was gripping himself with the annoyed restraint he used so often on me. “Sir Yorksley, I believe it’s been since my coronation that we’ve last met. Therefore you should be aware that I go by my proper title now”. Sebastian smiled a tight thin smile. A thrill of excitement ran through me. I clasped my hands in front of my body as politely and subtly as I could to hide any evidence of that excitement. I loved it when he got like this. He doesn’t feel like a powerful noble until he’s gotten riled up by someone and I loved watching him politely take someone down a peg. “I must not remember your coronation very well then,” his eyes were drawn to my increased fidgeting ,“Tell me, Sebastian,” he studied me up and down. I felt very uncomfortable under his observatory gaze. “Was this...servant of yours there?” he asked. I clenched my teeth and took a step forward, fist already formed. “Listen here you pompous fu-” Sebastian put a hand across my chest. I looked over at him. Expressionless. A ghost of anger was visible behind the glare of his glasses but other than that nothing gave away his mood. “Take a walk Raphael” he demanded. Yorksley looked from him to me, a smirk on his face. I’d love to smack that right off of him. I refused to move, glaring back at his stupidass smug face. “We will discuss this later” My breath caught in my throat and looked Sebastian in the eye. He was serious about this. “I’ll be in our room,” I scowled and turned toward the door , “Sir” I added, already a few steps closer to the room. Everything on the inside of the manor was just as pompously decorated as the people in them. Each person was probably decked out in more expensive shit than my whole farm. I squared my shoulders and pushed through to the hallway where our room was. I yanked the keys out of my pocket and jammed them in the keyhole to our room, muttering to myself. “Ya couldnt’ve just yelled at that damn moron. Don’t need Bassie’s goddamn permission to do nothin here,” I shoved the door open and threw the keys onto the bed. My suit jacket soon followed. “Next time I see that shit eatin’ grin a his, imma take it off with errethin ma fist can deal” I slammed the door behind me and kicked my shoes off carelessly. I nudged the mini fridge open with my hip and grabbed the fruit bowl that resided in it. Sebastian wouldn’t be back for a while depending on how many meet and greets he had to do. Would take less time if he just trusted me to help him with his stupid noble crap. I grimaced and grabbed the first piece of fruit my fingers touched. Can’t do nothin until he gets here though since I told him I’d be right here. Brooding was for people that can’t solve their own problems. And yet here I was sitting on the couch in the middle of our small living room area, feet propped up on the coffee table, an apple in my mouth, and I was most definitely brooding. I looked around at our temporary living quarters. That old painting on the wall looked dumb. The carpet reached to all corners of the two main rooms, clearly custom. Everything in this place reminded me of the rich stuff Bellamarre had. Victorian stuff. I threw what was left of the apple core toward the garbage bin near the armoire. It bounced off the side and onto the floor. “Tch, course” I pressed a few fingers to my temple and massaged away an oncoming headache. A few knocks at the door sounded and I turned slightly toward it. “Yeah?” I asked. The door opened quietly and Sebastian removed his jacket on his way in. I turned back toward the window and folded my arms. His shoes clacked on the floor until he reached the bed and put his folded jacket on his pillow. “Raphael, what were you thinking” he asked, his voice clearly straining. He’s super upset. Like I care. “Do you have any idea what you could’ve caused by lashing out?” he came around to block me from looking out the window. “Yeah? A bloody nose for someone who fucking deserved it?” I finally responded, lip curled in disgust. The Sebastian I loved wouldn’t roll the fuck over for some knight who thinks he’s all that. “He’s a respected officer of the military and has ties with many noble families,” Sebastian snapped. “Lashing out at him unjustly would’ve caused a ripple effect throughout all the families” He sat down on the couch next to me and laced his fingers together. We sat quietly. A minute passed and he sighed. “I understand how you feel, Raph,” he looked me in the eye and put his glasses on the coffee table, “But we have to learn to pick our battles. This isn’t something we should bother with” “I don’t get how we can just walk away from that,” I ran a hand through my hair, ruining the clean and tidy facade. “He insulted us. We’re just gonna let him walk all over us?” “Yes,” he said quickly. “We’ll forget about the whole thing” he moved a little closer to me. “We won’t have to see him again” He put his hands up to his hair and let it loose from the ribbon he tied earlier. It sprung free from its professional ponytail and his shoulders relaxed. I reached up and tousled his hair, reviving it back to its natural afro state. “Can we go yet?” I asked, hopeful that we could start packing immediately. He shook his head and looked at his phone. “There’s a dinner tonight at around seven. As soon as Baroness Linda is done thanking us all for coming, we can leave” he said firmly. He stood up and stretched stifling a yawn. “Therefore I’m going to take a two hour nap before we have to get ready again” he began unbuttoning his vest on his way to his side of the bed. Normally I’d leap on the chance to do it for him but I was still troubled. It just makes more sense to nip the problem in the bud than just ignore it forever. By the time I looked over at Sebastian he was already half undressed and sprawled out across the sheets. When I first met him, he was willing to defend himself and his honor to the death. Now it just feels like he’s giving up. Going for the least resistant path. It doesn’t feel right. I stood up and loosened my tie. Perhaps sleep would help me understand what was going on. Before I could reach Sebastian’s side, more knocking on our door. This time, short, loud raps. I frowned and went to the door. On the other side was a red faced Sir Yorksley. He shoved a meaty finger in my face and sneered. “Step aside, boy. I have words with your keeper” I slapped his hand out of my face and forced him out of the doorway, closing the door behind me. “Alright dude, what the fuck is your problem,” I snapped, trying to keep my voice low. He didn’t keep as low a volume as I did. He motioned behind me. “That child insulted my title, he deserves some form of punishment” I raised an eyebrow. Really? He straightened his jacket and stood up straight. Unhinged rage now kept in check behind a noble facade. I’ve seen this a lot. “I expect that Marquis Lascelles will accept my challenge” He moved to go around me. I blocked his advance. “What challenge” I asked.putting my hand on the knob to keep him from entering. He narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow in question at me. “A duel of course? He has to pay for his words” he tried to push past me again,another stop. He frowned and folded his hands. “Step aside. This doesn’t concern you” I held up a hand. A thought had occurred to me. If a duel was something that nobles did, technically I’d be in the clear to take him out. No consequences at all. I looked down at him, meeting his glare. “Sebastian’s occupied right now” I took a moment to breath. “I will take your challenge in his place” Yorksley opened his mouth to say something and was quiet for a second. A smile danced across his face and disappeared. “I accept, kid” he stuck his hand out for a handshake.I took it firmly and shook. “It’s Raphael” I said. I smiled at him. I had permission to kick his ass and I was going to enjoy it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Alright. I’m not really sure about this anymore. Sir Yorksley was waving around his rapier like it was just a longer bit of his arm. Flawless. Practically showing off for Linda. She laughed and clapped as he did tricks claiming that he was ‘warming up’. I looked down at the decorated rapier still lying in it’s case for me to use. I picked it up by the...hand protector bit. I looked up to see way too many eyes on me. We were out on the large back lawn of the manor and nobles surrounded the two of us in a large grass circle. Turns out Linda isn’t much for the law and is more into ‘tradition’ so she ok’d this duel. Sir Yorksley had also shed his suit jacket to make it even between us. Yeah. Like the jacket was the only difference between us. He turned around from his sword tricks and looked down at my pathetic grip on the rapier. “You positive your master won’t answer for his own actions?” Master. I’m gonna deck the guy. Honestly. “Let’s just get this over with” I retorted, some venom in my voice. My hand slid into place easily on the rapier and i raised it up to face him. I might not be good with a rapier but I know how a sword duel works. Sebastian, Spacey, and Geneva made sure of that. “This is to first drawn blood” Linda said to both of us but loud enough for the closest spectators to hear. “Let’s keep this tidy” she said. So no rule breaking she means. Yorksley drew his sword against mine causing the rubbing metals to ring loudly. I kept my other hand out for balance. Holding out a sword for too long throws my center off. “Are you both ready” she asked. “Always” he answered. I just nodded, ready to move back into a defensive position. Yorksley doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to protect himself first. The quicker this match is, the more embarrassing a loss it’d be for me….shit. I’m representing Sebastian. “Begin” Linda announced. As expected Yorksley sprung forward, tip first toward my shoulder. I managed to swat it out of the way before stumbling back a few steps. I absolutely forgot that I’d be representing Sebastian and his family in this duel. Fuck me. He lunged again, this time swinging across my chest. I backed up again, nearing the edge of the ring. I sidestepped and kept my rapier diagonal across my body. He flourished his and made minute adjustments in his stance to match my blocking position. “What’s it like being the servant of a family that used black magic to climb their way to the top” he purred, a glint in his eye. My grip tightened and I lunged forward aiming at a spot on his leg. He swept it out of the way easily and I heard the woosh of a missed swing go past my body. “The Lascelles family isn’t like that,” I whirled around to keep my sword between me and him. “They’ve been working hard to remake that image” I scowled and looked him up and down. “They’ve been using their power for positive influence and making the world a better place. You use yours to make yourself look better” His jawline tightened and a vein bulged in his forehead. With a mighty lunge, he slapped the sword out of my hand and pointed it at my neck. I backed up and stumbled, landing on my ass. He followed, the point close to jabbing into my collar bone. “Stop the match” I heard from somewhere behind me. The crowd parted for someone who entered into the ring. Yorksley’s sword lowered and he furrowed his brow. Sebastian stood behind me taking in the scene. “What’s the meaning of this” he asked directly at Linda. “They were settling a dispute” she answered plainly. He looked down at me and we locked eyes. He looked upset. But more than anything he was concerned. He knelt down and looked over my body. “Are you ok love?” he asked. His honor, no...his family’s honor, was at stake and he asked if I was ok. I struggled to say words, hoping they’d come out sounding like real words past the lump in my throat. “He’s fine. I didn’t do anything to him” Yorksley answered for me. Sebastian glared up at him and reached over for my rapier that lay only a few feet away. “Good,” Sebastian adjusted his glasses and picked up the sword, flourishing it once or twice. He balanced it checking for weight distribution. “I’d rather we settled this on our own” I got up and backed to the front of the crowd so they wouldn’t have to fight around me.He threw a look over at Linda basically telling her that they were going to have their own match. Yorksley hesitated and raised his weapon as well, looking more serious. Linda started the match and they both went in for the kill. Sebastian kept the handle low to block his shot and made a jab for his unprotected shoulder. Yorksley barely managed to shrug off the attack and backed up, working his wrist furiously against sebastian’s relentless barrage of attacks. “It wasn’t very noble of you to attack my fiance like that, Yorksley” Sebastian said aggressively coupling his words with a few low shots to get him to trip up his footing. Sebastian was barely out of breath in comparison to his opponent. “Well it wasn’t noble of you to attack my title like that” he retorted backing up a few steps and dancing around the tip of the attacking blade. Each time their blades met in the middle, a loud clash of metal rang out each time seeming to get louder as the match went on. “If you felt you were wronged by my words, you could’ve simply told me” Sebastian paused mid sentence to block a weak attempt to slash across his chest, “We didn’t have to resort to such illegal and old fashioned argument settling techniques” His eyes lit up as he saw an opening. Sebastian’s blade flew forward and came down on Yorksley’s handguard. He dropped the sword and backed up with a cry of pain. They stared at each other. Bassie didn’t move forward to deal the finishing blow. Instead he pointed the end of his rapier tip down and buried it to a third of the length into the dirt. “Sir Yorksley” he began. By the time he had finished saying his name, the knight regained control of his sword and swung across blindly. Sebastian grunted and a blood seeped up in beads across his cheek. The crowd gasped in unison. “Bassie” I shouted. I ran up to him and rubbed away some of the blood. It wasn’t deep. Tears had sprung to his eyes in automatic reaction. I turned around to serve some justice to that asshole but Sebastian held my wrists. “Don’t” he whispered. He turned to Linda and bowed slightly. She had a look of disgust on her face aimed at Yorksley. “If you don’t mind, we’ll be taking our leave” he said grimacing. She looked to him and took his hands in hers. “Of course. Thank you for attending my coronation” she said sweetly. She took mine in her hands as well. “Marquis Raphael, you did your lineage proud” she said smiling. She whirled around on Yorksley who looked like a deer in the spotlight. We only managed to hear some of her intense anger fueled speech about tradition and rules on our way toward the manor to pack our things. “Are you ok?” we said at the same time, accidentally. He let out a breathy laugh and put his hands on my cheeks. “We’re quite the pair aren’t we” he said, brushing away some random wetness rolling down my face. It was most certainly sweat. “Raph,” he stopped trying to search for the right words. “I shouldn’t have sent you away like that. You are perfectly capable of fighting your own fights and I shouldn’t interfere” I put my hands over his. “Bassie, I just don’t want to mess this up. What if I mess this up?” More sweat rolled down my cheek. He thumbed it, causing it to soak into my skin. “Then we’ll fix it together” he promised. I sniffed and looked down breaking away from his grip. We trudged further into the manor. It was completely vacant for now. Everyone must’ve been outside to watch the duel. “What did you say to him anyway” I asked. “Ummmm,” Sebastian blushed and didn’t meet my gaze. “After a few drinks of wine and he attacked you like that,” he pursed his lips. “I might’ve told him that actors that have been knighted are more loyal to the title than he was” I stopped and doubled over, a laugh coming from deep inside my gut. “That’s true justice right there” I managed to say between bouts of laughter. He chuckled at first and after a while began laughing just as loudly with me. Turned out to be an ok party after all.

#Saint Bellamarre #Original Work #original rp #sebastian lascelles #raphael macnealson #cussing

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