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new-author3 · 14 days ago

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Buried in the Dark

Pairing: Tim Bradford × Reader (Y/N)

Based on Episode 2x11 of The Rookie

Summary:

In the shadows of an operation spiraling out of control, the unexpected happens. Amid growing tension, risky decisions, and a bond that stretches far beyond protocol, the ending of this story holds an emotional weight you might not be ready to carry...

Warnings:

Contains psychological tension, abduction triggers, emotionally intense language, and scenes that may cause discomfort. Recommended for ages 16+.

Author’s Note:

It wasn’t supposed to be this long… but it came out exactly the way my heart wrote it. I hope you like it, even if I’m still unsure about it. 💭

*Gif is not mine*

I never imagined my day would begin like this.

I mean… sure, being a cop is anything but predictable. You learn to expect the unexpected — chases, shootouts, violent arrests. But getting kidnapped by the accomplice of a serial killer? Not even my worst nightmares could’ve come up with that.

It all started when Rosalind Dyer — yes, that Rosalind — agreed to reveal where her victims’ bodies were buried. But she didn’t want to just point to a spot on the map. No... She wanted to guide the police herself. She wanted to see the reactions. See the pain written on every face.

She feeds on that.

So, a major operation was put together. No one trusted her, obviously — but the DA saw it as an opportunity: bring peace to families, close cold cases, bury the dead. Hard to swallow... but understandable.

Tim walked beside me as we headed to Sergeant Grey’s office. The air was heavy, like it knew something was about to go wrong.

“This doesn’t feel right,” I muttered, mostly to myself.

“Of course it’s not right,” Tim answered, his jaw clenched. “She wants an audience. That’s all. She wants everyone dancing around her like puppets.”

I nodded, keeping my composure. I could feel the tension building in my chest, but I refused to let it show. Getting emotional around someone like Rosalind was dangerous.

She could smell weakness like blood in the water.

We arrived at Sgt. Grey’s office.

“Ready, Officer Bradford?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Tim replied.

“Sir, may I ask something?” I ventured, a bit uncertain.

“Of course, Officer,” he said, looking directly at me. “What’s on your mind?”

“What do you really think about all this?”

Grey sighed before answering.

“I hate it. The idea of a serial killer walking around free, even in cuffs, makes me sick. But… if it means bringing the victims home, giving their families closure… then we swallow the bitterness and follow through.”

I nodded respectfully.

“I understand. I just wish there were another way.”

“There always is. But sometimes justice is made from bad choices.”

He held my gaze for a second longer before concluding:

“Don’t show weakness. She’ll see it. Feed off it. Stay in control, Officer.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

When Grey stepped away, Tim gently took hold of my arm.

“He’s right. No matter what she says, no matter how she looks at you… you’re stronger than that.”

“I know… I just… I don’t like this. Even though I know those families will finally be able to bury their loved ones.”

He seemed to weigh my words for a second. Then he said:

“If she crosses a line with you… I’ll be there.”

There was a brief silence, full of meanings neither of us dared to name.

I just nodded.

His presence was an anchor I hadn’t even realized I needed.

Rosalind arrived under escort.

Orange jumpsuit. Handcuffs. That smug little smile.

But what really unsettled me was the way she looked at me.

Like she already knew me.

Like she’d been waiting for me.

“You,” she said, dragging the word out like she was savoring it. “I knew you’d be here.”

I didn’t respond. Just kept my gaze firm.

“So serious. So… in control,” she stepped closer, within the limits set by the officers. “You’re a good actress.”

“Keep walking, Rosalind,” Tim said, voice sharp.

She laughed, like this was a private game between us.

“You like her, don’t you?” she said, eyes fixed on me. “It’s all over your body language. You stand between us like a guard dog.”

“Shut up and get in the car,” Tim snapped, the edge in his voice slipping.

Her comment about Tim liking me caught me off guard, but I didn’t react. Maybe that’s exactly what she wanted... or maybe not. Still, I didn’t look away.

She was trying to provoke me, but she wouldn’t break me.

Maybe that’s exactly what kept her intrigued.

“You’re different,” she finally said. “That’s why I like you. This is going to be... fun.”

The car door shut with a sharp click, but her words still hung in the air.

“That was personal,” I murmured, exhaling like I’d just released a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Yeah… I noticed,” Tim replied, watching me more intently than usual. “She doesn’t talk like that to just anyone.”

“Great. One more reason to keep my eyes open.”

“And I’ll keep mine on you.”

Tim didn’t smile. Neither did I.

But there was a silent agreement in the space between us: whatever she tried — we’d face it together.

The convoy moved in silence. Rosalind was cuffed in the back of the lead vehicle, flanked by two armed officers. Tim and I followed close behind, both lost in our own thoughts. The overcast sky mirrored our mood — heavy, ominous.

At the location Rosalind had pointed out, the area was already sealed off. Forensics teams, diggers, cadaver dogs — everything meticulously prepared. The press was kept far back under court order, but the tension was tangible, pulsing in the air.

Rosalind stepped out of the car with a satisfied smirk, like she was stepping onto a stage. Her eyes scanned every face until they landed on me. That look — invasive, dissecting — like she was trying to dig something out of me.

“Someone going to uncuff me, or are we playing scouts in the mud?” she said, eyes locked on mine.

Before I could respond, Tim stepped in.

“No one’s playing anything. Say where the body is. The less you talk, the better for everyone.”

She shot him a disdainful glance, but turned back to me.

“Let her handle it. I bet she’s got steady hands.”

My face stayed neutral.

“Keep talking like that and you’ll be back in your cell before you can say another word.”

I was firm. Clear. For the first time, Rosalind stared at me and said nothing. Just smiled — a small, knowing smile that said, you’re learning fast.

“I think you’re talking too much. So, let’s play a little,” he said, the twisted smile returning to his face as he stepped away, heading toward a small table in the corner.

I managed to glimpse what was on it—knives, sharp objects, and other tools. A chill ran down my spine. It was going to be a long day... a very long one.

“Shall we begin, sweetheart?” he asked, looking at me with that macabre grin.

I swallowed hard, praying Tim and the others would find me soon...

Meanwhile...

Tim was barely holding it together. But outwardly, he wore the mask.

“I want every helicopter, every patrol unit, and every damn camera in this city scanning every inch,” he barked at the agents.

“Bradford,” Grey tried to interject, “I know she means a lot to you, but—”

“I’m not losing her,” Tim cut him off, voice like steel.

He said nothing more. Just looked around like a man who would not rest until she was back. And whoever had touched her... was marked.

Back in the captivity...

“Shall we begin, sweetheart?” he repeated, twirling a knife in his hand as if it were a dance.

Cold sweat trickled down my back. I kept my gaze steady, but my mind screamed. Every second there felt like an eternity—and yet, I had to stay lucid. Had to remember someone was coming. Tim was coming.

He picked up one of the smaller knives and walked toward me, grazing the blade along the side of my face. Just touching.

“So calm… That excites me. Rosalind said you were special. Thought she was exaggerating. But no—you are,” he said, letting the blade trail down my shoulder, pressing just enough to slice through the uniform and skin.

A shiver ran through my body, but I didn’t scream. Not yet.

“It’s gonna take more than that,” I muttered, voice hoarse, heavy with whatever courage—or stupidity—I had left.

He paused.

“I like a challenge. But you’ll regret provoking me.”

He turned, grabbing something I couldn’t see. That’s when the pain started...

Time stopped making sense.

I didn’t know how long I had been there. Hours? Days? The darkness, the stench of rust and blood, mixed into a constant fog in my brain. Pain throbbed in various places—some cuts shallow, others deep. Dried blood stuck the uniform to my skin, but I kept my head up by a thread.

Because he wanted me to break.

He wanted me to beg.

“You know what I like most about you?” he said, circling me slowly, spinning the knife between his fingers. “You’re still trying to look strong. Even now. Even after all I’ve done.”

My breathing was uneven. I fought to stay focused, though my vision blurred.

My fingers ached; the ropes cut circulation. The last time he sliced me—a thin, burning line across my abdomen—he smiled like a kid unwrapping a present.

“Rosalind always had refined taste. But with you…” He knelt in front of me, eye level. “She got obsessed. Wanted to see how you break. Wanted me to dismantle you.”

He ran his blood-stained fingers down my cheek like he wanted to mark me.

“You don’t scream. Don’t cry. That pisses me off.”

“Maybe it’s ‘cause you don’t know what you’re doing... or you’re just weak,” I spat, voice faint but steady.

He punched me in the stomach.

Air fled my lungs. I tasted metal again, like biting into iron. Groaning, I tried to recover.

“You’re just a fake cop. Wearing the badge ‘cause someone protects you. Maybe your little guard dog—Bradford, right?” he laughed.

He knew.

He was using Tim’s name to provoke me, knowing exactly the weight it carried. I didn’t answer, focusing on catching my breath.

“It’ll be even better when he finds the body. Or maybe… he’ll get here just in time for the finale.” He grinned. “I know how to make cuts that don’t kill. At least, not right away.”

“You’ll be dead before you get the chance,” I rasped.

“But before that... you’ll cry. You’ll beg.”

He pressed the cold blade to my forearm. The skin, already raw, burned on contact. The pressure increased. The blade slid deep.

The scream escaped before I could stop it.

“NO!” I thrashed, the chair creaking under me. The ropes dug into my wrists and ankles. The pain exploded, tearing through not just skin—but something deeper.

Tears filled my eyes. My body recoiled, trying to escape itself.

I cried.

Almost begged.

Almost.

Instead of words, I bit my lip until I tasted my own blood.

My vision spun. Darkness crept in, point by point.

Dizziness swallowed me.

Cold sweat drenched me.

The world spiraled into a void.

Even the strongest can't endure pain like this.

Pain carved into flesh... and deeper, into the mind.

He smiled, satisfied, as if my suffering fed him.

“Yes. Much better now. Rosalind will love hearing about this.”

Outside, the hunt was on.

Tim Bradford sat in the surveillance van, eyes locked on the monitor. Jaw clenched. Fists tight.

Every second was a blade in his chest.

“Rewind that footage.”

“There!” he pointed, sharp as a blade. “That car. Leaving the perimeter right after the explosion.”

Angela zoomed in.

“Plate’s fake. But the model and route match. Multiple cameras show it heading into an abandoned property in the west sector.”

Tim was already on his feet.

“I’m going in.”

“Tim, wait!” Grey tried to stop him. “You can’t go alone!”

“I’m not asking permission, sir. She’s there. I’m not wasting another second.”

Grey sighed—he knew he couldn’t stop him.

“Fine. But you’re not going alone.”

He turned to the radio.

“All available units, get ready. We found the target. Move now.”

Tim was already in the patrol car before the order finished transmitting.

Not knowing where she was had hurt more than any bullet ever could.

He needed to see her. Bring her back. And deep down, he feared just one thing: being too late.

Inside, the man watched my trembling, hunched body.

“You’re going pale. Weak. You’ll pass out soon... what a shame,” he said, as if mourning a broken toy—still smiling. “But before that, one more cut...”

I braced myself, trying to prepare for the pain as he lowered the saw to my arm...

“POLICE! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!”

The crash of the door bursting open thundered through the room.

He tried to run.

Didn’t make it two steps.

Tim stormed in like a force of nature, gun raised, rage in his eyes.

“GET ON THE WALL! NOW!”

The man hesitated—but didn’t get the chance. Angela and two more agents stormed in and pinned him in seconds.

But Tim... Tim only saw her.

His whole world was there. Bleeding. Shaking. Barely upright.

“S/N…”

He holstered his weapon and rushed to her, slicing through the ropes with a knife.

“Hey… it’s me. You’re safe now. I’ve got you,” he said, lifting her from the chair and lowering her gently to the floor.

Her eyes opened slowly. Pupils wide. Skin cold. Face stained with dried blood. She tried to speak—but couldn’t. And then... she passed out.

Tim caught her like she was made of glass.

“Call the paramedics! NOW!” he shouted, holding her close. “Stay with me, okay? Just stay with me…”

He rested his forehead against hers, eyes brimming with tears he refused to let fall.

“You’re not leaving me. I found you. And I’m never letting you go again…”

_________________________________________

Beep… beep… beep…

S/N jolted awake, chest rising fast as if the air in the room wasn’t enough.

White ceiling spinning. The sterile smell. The cold light. The machines.

But in her mind... darkness. Rust. Pain.

The blade.

His voice.

“No… no… no…” she whispered, panicked, fighting against bindings that were no longer there.

“Hey! Hey, it’s okay!” Tim’s voice rose, deep and urgent, as he sprang up from the couch.

“S/N, look at me. It’s Tim. You’re safe. It’s over.”

She turned her head sharply toward him, eyes wild and terrified.

“He… where is he? He was here, he—”

“No.” Tim held her gently, one hand on hers, the other on her face, careful not to touch any wounds.

“He’s locked up. You’re in the hospital. With me. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Her breathing was still fast, chest heaving like she couldn’t accept it was real.

His touch, his voice, his eyes so close to hers…

“Tim...?” she whispered, voice cracking.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Can you hear me?”

She nodded slowly. Tears spilled down her cheeks—not from fear now. From relief.

He knelt beside her, his hand still holding hers.

“You’re safe.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, just breathing. When she opened them again, she whispered:

“My throat… it’s dry…”

“Of course. Hold on.”

Tim grabbed the cup with the straw from the side table and brought it to her lips with the utmost care.

She drank slowly, not looking away from him once. And only then, with her mind a little clearer, she noticed:

He was wrecked.

But he was there.

Like it was the only place in the world he could be.

“You stayed the whole time?” she asked, voice soft.

Tim smiled—a sad, tired smile.

“I rode with you in the ambulance. Yelled at half the hospital until they gave you a room. Then... I just sat here. And waited. The whole time. I... I needed to see you open your eyes.”

She swallowed hard.

“I felt it when you found me. I don’t know how. But it was like... like I could breathe again.”

Tim looked away for a moment but didn’t let go of her hand.

“Hey. Look at me.”

He did.

“I’m alive. And that… is because of you.”

“No,” Tim shook his head. “It’s because of your strength. I just... caught you at the end.”

Silence fell. The tension of fear still hung in the air, but now there was something else—everything left unsaid.

“When he put that knife on me… I thought I was going to die.”

“I thought I’d lost you,” he answered, voice cracking.

“And that scared you?” “It destroyed me.”

She took a deep breath.

“Tim...” “I love you.”

The words came out raw. Bare. Honest to the bone.

She stared at him, stunned—but it wasn’t fear.

It was recognition. Like something inside her had just clicked.

Like she’d always known.

“You took your sweet time. If I knew being kidnapped would make you confess, I would’ve done it sooner,” she whispered with a soft smile, teasing.

“Don’t even joke about that... You don’t need to be kidnapped for me to say it.” He chuckled, teary, no longer hiding it. “I know now. And I’m not wasting any more time.”

And then, as if the world outside could wait, he leaned in and kissed her.

Soft at first, so he wouldn’t hurt her.

Gentle, like a question.

She kissed him back—despite the pain, despite the exhaustion—with everything she’d been holding in for so long.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers, eyes locked on hers, and whispered:

“I love you. And we’re going to get through this. Together.”

She smiled, tears in her eyes.

“I know... I love you too.”

The End.

Masterlist

#tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #the rookie #tim bradford #fem!reader #the rookie x reader #tim bradford fic #the rookie series #the rookie imagine

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starlight-bread-blog · 2 years ago

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Why Stolas is a Terrible Person/Character

Oh this will be long. In this post I will cover why Stolas is a character that fundamentally fails at everything it tries to accomplish. I probably have to say that you can love Stolas. That's just why I hate him.

Trigger warnings for: Racism, casteism, power dynamics, sexual assault, sa apologism, abuse, and neglectful parenting. A lot, I know, but that's Stolas.

His Actions in S1

Despite the title, there will be two examples from season 2.

Racism/Casteist

Stolas is from the upper caste, a royal. He seem to often fetishize imps, or the fact that he's sleeping with someone who's less than him. I even saw fans pointing this out. He has empathized Blitzø being an imp in a sexual context.

(Notice the use of words: "little", "plaything", to me this is blatant racism and fetishism).

He also showed a certain lack of empathy for his imp butler.

Stolas isn't particularly violent, he doesn't choke people left and right. He's just angry, at Stella, so he decides to.. choke the imp.

Stolas has been dehumanizimg imps. Fetishizing an imp for being an imp, calling him an "impish little plaything", and he has been willing to choke an imp just because he was angry at something unrelated. He's racist and casteist.

Treatment of Blitzø

"Treatment" is putting it lightly. In the first episode, Stolas does something inexcusable that will taint their dynamic for all of season 1. First, he sees Blitzø in a vulnerable position, where he cannot think or negotiate. Thus, stripping him of what little choice he has on what he's about to offer.

What Stolas is saying is, "Fuck me or I'll shut down your business". This deal he makes is just a threat with extra steps. Which is a real life abuse tactic called Quid Pro Quo:

"Quid pro quo harassment occurs when someone in a position of authority over another directly or indirectly demands sexual favors in exchange for some benefit, or to avoid some detriment in the workplace".

One element I haven't brought up yet, is the political power imbalance. Stolas is royalty, one with a lot of power, influence, credibility, etc. Blitzø has non of that. Other characters have commented on that the fact that Blitzø even has a business is a miracle.

There are so many layers of imbalance and how Blitzø has no choice or agency. A royal is """offering""" the powerless a Quid Pro Quo while he's in a life threatening situation.

And their dynamic looks exactly like you'd imagine. Stolas consistently sexualizes him against his consent. (As it's been established, Stolas's racism feeds into this). And refuses to do the surface level courtesy, not even calling him his real name (x).

Stolas treats Blitzø as a lesser being, violates his boundries, forces himself on him, and strips him of all autonomy.

Faliure as a Father

Stolas's role as a father is directly tackled in Loo Loo Land and Seeing Stars. At the beginning, both episodes show Stolas being a good father to Octavia, but does this still hold true in the currect day? Well, no.

In Loo Loo Land, Stolas wants to take Octavia to a theme park. Octavia is 17, and Stolas ignores her when she says she doesn't want to go. (In retrospect, Stolas could be oblivious because he's projecting his experience meeting Blitzø onto Via).

But that's just the start. Stolas then invites Blitzø to the trip and harasses with him all throughout. Essentially, Stolas is forcing his daughter to watch as he harasses "the homewrecker", all the while he's supposed to be with her, on a trip she didn't even want to go to.

After a whole day of this, as expected, Octavia runs away. Stolas chases her. (And of course, he's still thinking of Blitzø on his way to find Via). There's an apology scene that looks deep, but when you dissect it, it's rather empty.

Stolas never actually provided an explanation as to why he just did what he did, nor of the "drama" with Stella. There is nothing here. Octavia only makes up with him because he said he isn't gonna leave her. Which is bare minimum.

After he realizes that his affair hurts his daughter to the point where she feared he's gonna leave her, what does he do? What practical actions does he take to improve? Divorce Stella? Cut off his deal with Blitzø? Explaine the situation?

Nothing. And now we see he's willing to stand up on a stage and let people know.

In Seeing Stars, Stolas bashes Via's mother to her. Which, does she know about their situation? Does she not? She isn't shown to hate or.. anything Stella. Is he hiding the situation (which I'll cover), while also trashing her mother? That's impulsive and negligent.

But that's nothing. She later runs away, Stolas is stressed as he should be, but the second they arravie on earth he's all calm and everything's normal.

When his daughter is missing. When he is shown to be stressed, it's for the sake of plot. But he's willing to just chill, watching Blitzø's show.

Stolas is, dare I say it, neglectful. He might care about his daughter, but he's proven that she's not enough of a priority to focus on her when it matters.

Cheating

Yes, I know what ended up being revealed, I'll cover that. In season 1, the relationship is presented to not be perfect before Stolas cheated.

But there were instances that showed that what Stolas did changed their relationship for the worse. (Some additional rebuttals).

It could have been a loveless marrige, they could have fallen out of love, they could have been arranged. But their relationship was manageable. Love or no love, it's a committed relationship. and Stella didn't deserve to get cheated on.

Who was Stolas?

Stolas's behavior is common among royals. Stella has no problem throwing said butler at Stolas (S1 E2), and the Goetias are shown to be casteist. They're untouchable privileged assholes.

Stolas was born that wealth, never having to suffer the consequences of his actions. Always putting himself first, hurting others. He doesn't mean to, he wants for everyone to be happy, he does care.

However, when it actually matters, he acts on his worst tendecises with no self control. He never had to learn self control. That is, until Ozzie's.

Before Ozzie, Blitzø and Stolas are at obligation. Stolas's actions had tainted them. There was one redeemable moment: He saved Blitzø's life. Stolas did something for him. But this one act of goodness doesn't magically fix everything.

Stolas's family life have been escalating. Stella hated Stolas for cheating and his daughter just had to take it. In Loo Loo Land, he learns the full weight of the damage he caused. And in the next episode we see him, he proceeds to take no steps to improve the situation. In the end of that same episode, we learn that Stella hired an assasin after him. Because he did nothing.

The season 1 finale, Ozzie's, is aware of all of this and absolutely delivers.

The episode starts with seeing Stolas alone, in his big house, miserable. It appears that Stella finally left the house. (Also he later says "Octavia is with her mother this weekend"). He's eating a bowl of cereal, pitying himself, wallowing in his despair. You feel bad for him, he looks so torn down.

And then Blitzø calls. The one he loves, asks him on a serious date. It's hope, it's honest, and it's exactly what he wanted. It's almost as if the universe handed him is fairytale scenario.

Almost. Reality smacks him right in the face on that date. Asmodeus calls him out on losing everything he had. He had a family, a happy daughter, but gave it all up for an affair.

Blitzø calls him out on treating him like a pet, not earning any of that emotional connection he wants or even communicating it, just violating him, they have nothing.

The show held him accountable and called him out. While it's not perfect, Stolas is a morally grey character. Now, a character arc was set up where he learns to treat people better. Stolas is exactly the character I want to see from a show like Helluva Boss. He's a horrible person, but nuanced, who does care.

Season 2

Yeah... all of that is thrown out the window. Because apparently, Stolas is just imperfect. He simply made a lot of mistakes. He misread a lot of situations, really it's all just an accident. He's an oblivious victim. So, let's get into the woobification of Stolas.

Surrounded by Evil

In The Circus we're given Stolas's ✨️backstory✨️. And we find out he had such a terrible life.

Stella is, and always was, an abusive evil bitch. From the day she was born. Pure evil.

So you see, Stolas did nothing wrong. Let me be clear, you are not obligated to stay loyal to your abuser. We can erase "cheater" off the list. But that's the only reason why it's done. So we can erase that off the list, and that we could feel oh-so-sad for him.

Because Stella isn't written to be an abuser. She's a cartoonishly evil. We see a picture of her as a kid where she's the same person. Spongebob villians have more depth than her, you know, the abuser in the adult show.

Helluva Boss reversed an established dynamic where Stella is the victim and Stolas is at fault, except without any of the depth or nuance.

But that's not all. Stolas's dad (Paimon) is also neglectful. By "neglectful" I mean, of course, a Saturday-morning cartoon villain.

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He doesn't remember his name. This is such bullshit. I can buy Stolas having a horrible father. It's also not bad to show Stolas's trauma. What is bad is that the subject matter is handled with less seriousness as the fish fight in Spring Broken. And Helluva Boss did write Crimson as a serious abuser, while the episode still had comedy, but not Paimon.

The reason why all of this is happening, is so we could feel bad for Stolas. They do zero of the work to earn a good story about abuse, but still go "Do you see how sad he is? Look at how they're treating this poor baby!!"

"Recontextualization"

In said ✨️backstory✨️, we also learn that Stolas and Blitzø are childhood friends. But also not really, they just hung out for one day. Where did this come from? How does this enrich the characters? I would tell you, but I don't know. However, what I'm sure of, is that it's done to make Stolas look less problematic.

DO YOU SEE HOW CUT THIS IS? He isn't just horny for that imp, he is special, it's absoultly pure! Don't worry, totally safe.

Later in the flashback, we see how Blitzø and Stolas reconnected after over 20 years. Apparently... Blitzø was the one who sexually manipulated Stolas, selling him that he wants him.

All Stolas did was just buying into Blitzø's narrative he was imposed on. It's a role he leaned into, because he thought Blitzø liked it. I.. WHAT???

If this horseshit is true, why did he make this weird r*pe deal with Blitzø? If Blitzø was the one who acted like he's interested at first, and he was sexually exploiting him, why did he lash out at Stolas in Ozzie's? Did it just hold no weight for Stolas? It went from "Don't pretend to have something when you've been harassing me this whole time" to "You misunderstood".

The Stolitz backstory makes no sense, it's cheap, and fixes nothing. No matter what the story is trying to sell, in season 1 Stolas knew what's happening enough to try to force it. And maybe Stolas wanted Blitzø because of a connection, but he still harassed, dehumanized and violated him.

Note: Stolas realizing "he imagined the relationship" is completely ignored one episode later in Seeing Stars. This is a huge deal, didn't he learn? Just further evidence that he's willing to violate the guy. (x)

Before this backstory, we had a story of a selfish man hurting the person he loves while explointing the broken system and the power that he has over him for his own selfish desires that he's forcing on him. Now, we have the same thing, but with fanfic tropes – and the story refuses to confront that.

Casteism is Brushed Off

Helluva Boss pretends that Stolas isn't racist, because he didn't want Blitzø for being an imp, but for being his fanfic trope childhood friend. Which fails to address the disgusting fetishism of Blitzø for being an imp, and he also continued to dehumanize his imp butler in Seeing Stars. He's still racist.

Imperfect Father

In The Circus, Stolas devivers this line: "The only reason I have endured your constant insults and cruelty, was for that girl to have a normal life".

Sounds impressive, he stayed all these years just for his daughter. But that's the thing – it sounds impressive. Every time their relationship is the focus, Stolas is being the scum of the earth. What I see here, is a person. A person who despite being willing to stay passive, acts on his his selfish wants, forgetting to look around him. Mind you, this fact is also being revealed one episode after Ozzie's.

But no, one episode later, in Seeing Stars – that was covered as a prime example of everything I just descriped – Loona says this:

Yeah. He's just a good father "trying" his "best" and makes some... "mistakes". The Circus did present Stolas as this, but Seeing Stars really solidified how his parenting will be handled moving forward. And I think it's comlete and utter dogshit.

Damsel in Distress

The title is a bit misleading. This section is mainly about Stolas's power being toned down. Both magical and in presentation.

In season 1, he was energetic and enthusiastic, while being able to set his foot down and intimidate when needed. He's still all of those things, but in some instances his characterization made my raise an eyebrow.

In Seeing Stars, he's being weirdly gentle with people kidnapping Blitzø and are later beatting him.

youtube

In Oops, he's excited to start negotiating with literal kidnappers. I have no idea why he's so nice.

(He did harass Blitzø again in Seeing Stars and bashed Striker, all of which isn't soft, but it's also the two moments where he should have shut up).

Further more, both of these conflict rely on Stolas not using his powers for some reason or another. Why didn't he just do whatever he did in Truth Seekers to track Fizz/Via?

About Via, I'm gonna have to call bullshit on the "My powers are limited on earth" nonsense because, for starters, kid Stolas is shown to remember the contents of his books and now he's been studying them for years. And two,

youtube

There is no excuse for Stolas to not use his powers and whenever the show says otherwise it's bullshitting its way out of it.

Even in Western Energy, before Stolas gets captured he was just aimlessly going in and out of his demon form. Why didn't he turn him into stone like he did in Loo Loo Land?

Stolas has been presented as weaker than he is. He's made to look more vulnerable, less "above it all". He was untouchable, and when he wasn't, it had a harder impact and made sense. Now, I almost forgot he's a powerful demon.

And his characterization is at the core of this issue. At times he's just so kind and gentle with people who should get smacked in their heads.

What about Ozzie's

The big clash, the one that called Stolas out on everything, the one that set him on a genuine path to grow, what about it? How is it addressed while the show tries to pretend he's a good person?

No, not the message Stolas is looking at, the ones in the background he just scrolled through.

I'm not breaking this down. I refuse. The only reason I put it here is to show how fast it goes. I'm not touching that.

Who is Stolas

Stolas is a moral scapegoat – "a character that is bad, but the book/movie/show portrays them as good". It's characterized by the story twisting itself to make one character look good.

Stolas didn't start out as one, but became one over one season premire and it just kept escalating from there.

Helluva Boss takes place in Hell. A horrible place filled with horrible people, the root of all evil. Stolas fits right in there. He was already problematic, awful, and fed into Helll's broken system. Why trying to cover up his faults? It's Hell, and it was great. But now, we're supposed to pretend he's just flawed.

With the show actively ignoring everything he did, what's left for him? What does he have to learn? How will he grow as a person? How will he improve? What's his character arc? It's nothing. Because everything that happens to him isn't his fault, and at times could just be solved with one conversation.

#Youtube #helluva boss critical #helluva critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #anti helluva boss #anti stolas #stolas critical #anti stolitz #stolitz critical #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #anti vivziepop #vivziepop critique #spindlehorse critical #spindlehorse critique #anti spindlehorse #spindlehorse criticism #spindlehorse toons critical

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turtletaubwrites · 7 months ago

Text

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 35

Lady Luck by My Side

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 10.2k+

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Luck Be a Lady (Dezio Rezio) ~ The Atomic Beat Ranchers | Feel So Numb ~ Rob Zombie

Summary: Buggy deals with your heavy words, while Crocodile and Mihawk fight for you in their own, desperate ways. You are making the best of your situation, and if you could avoid your uncle's wicked words, you might even end up enjoying yourself. If you're lucky, of course.

Ch. 34 Recap: I've decided to put the recap directly below the cut in case anyone sees this post before getting to the last chapter. It's a bit more detailed than usual, and I vehemently detest spoilers. I refuse to watch trailers for movies I plan to watch 😂 I don't even like writing summaries, so I keep them vague. Hope you don't mind!

Author's Note: I have missed y'all so very much, I can't begin to describe 😭💜 I won't get into my disappearing act here, but I'll share some details below the chapter if you're interested, and I'll probably make a life update post about it later. Now that I finally have the time, energy, and health, to write again, I just want to write Numbers Game!

Dark Content Warning: Dark Content is bracketed with ~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~ and summaries are bracketed with ~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~ directly below the scenes, so that you won’t miss the story if you need to not be in the BIG FEELS of the scenes. Please take care of yourself, you are not alone! 💜

~ 1st ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if severe mental illness, episodes, treatment, or neglect could be triggering for you.

~ 2nd ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if mental illness treatment, doctors, or panic attacks, might be triggering for you.

Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to chapter 1064 or episode 1093. As we get further into Egghead Arc where our lovely boys are showing up more, there will be more spoilers as time goes on. Sorry y'all, I'm trying to keep most spoilers small details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Hospitals, Doctors, Mental Health Treatment, Toxic Family, Childhood Trauma, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Death of an Unnamed Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Chapter 34 Recap: You struggled with your varied feelings for the hunters that fought for the chance to be your owner, surprised that you didn't hate them all. You discovered that Fukaboshi was a truly good man who knew that you'd be sending him away soon, and that Katakuri was far sweeter than he looked.

Mihawk discovered that his little rabbit's plight was being broadcast beyond the Oak Roots Estate, and his rage made him dirty his blade.

Former member's of Baroque Works, Zala and Marianne, reported back from Dr. Vorsan's asylum. Buggy fought against it at first, but Crocodile begged to watch the encrypted recordings they had found so that he could help his sweet girl. He saw her at fifteen years old, being restrained and drugged in that asylum after her father passed, and he demanded to see the next recording.

You lied to your sister about your feelings toward the Cross Guild, telling her that they were monsters, and you never wanted to see them again. You wanted to make her happy, so you'd keep up your smile, just like you had for your dad when you were little. You would pretend for her.

Chapter 35 ~ Lady Luck by My Side

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

Had it been hours? Years since he’d started watching?

There was nothing but the tears in her eyes, nothing but the futile sobs he could do nothing to stop.

‘Let me see my sister!’

‘Sweetie, you’re not ready yet. You need to get well first.’

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

‘I’m not sick, mom,’ his sweet girl begged, strapped to a table while her mother stood too far back to comfort her. ‘Just let me see Kitty, please. I need to see her. ‘

‘You need to focus on getting better,’ Delaine’s voice shifted, expertly condescending with a loving tone.

Crocodile did not fucking like this woman.

‘Sweetie, do you remember what happened? Do you remember what you did,’ Delaine prodded. Y/N’s face crumpled, sobbing while her worthless mother stood in silence.

‘It was an accident,” the fifteen-year-old girl pleaded while she struggled against her restraints.

‘I found you with that snail, Y/N, and I’m certain you would have killed the poor thing if I hadn’t found you when I did,’ Delaine scolded. Crocodile was going to gut this bitch for making her daughter cry like this. ‘I’m just grateful that it was me, I can’t imagine how your... It’s not your fault, of course. Arbo was always selfish, and now he’s made you sick. I’m sorry, honey, but it’s just not safe for Kathryn to be around you until you get well.’

‘Please, mom. Please listen to me,’ she whimpered, her body going weak, trembling.

‘Just listen to the doctor, alright? I know you don’t want to hurt anyone, but you’re sick, honey. You need to— ‘

‘I need you to fucking LISTEN!’

Delaine froze for a moment before turning away, heading toward the door. She walked closer to the cam-snail on her way out, and her eyes looked way too fucking dry.

Crocodile’s rage-filled thoughts were swept away by that young girl’s screams.

‘Mom, please, don’t leave me! Don’t let them— ‘

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

~~~

~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~

The scene above is from Crocodile’s POV while he watched a recording of the reader in the asylum when she was fifteen.

Her mother, Delaine, was present, and the reader stated that she wasn’t sick, and begged to see her little sister.

Delaine replied that it wasn’t safe for Kathryn to see her until she was well again and asked if the reader recalled what she did to the snail. The reader said that it was an accident, and asked Delaine to listen.

Delaine stated that she thought the reader would have killed the snail if Delaine hadn’t found her in time, and blamed Arbo’s selfishness for making the reader sick. She denied the reader's request again.

The reader yelled for her mother to listen, however, Delaine walked out, and Crocodile felt rage for how dry her eyes were. The reader screamed for her mother not to leave her, not to let them– (the last line cut off).

~⚫️~SUMMARY~⚫️~

~~~

Y/N’s cries were cut short, the image of her teary face going blurry before the transmission cut out completely.

Crocodile had already destroyed all the furniture, so he crawled through the debris toward the smaller snail, answering the call before he had time to make it.

“Sir— “

“Finish the recording,” he threatened. “It wasn’t done, send it again.”

“The white snail passed out, sir,” Zala reported, her voice shaking almost as much as his fist. “I think that was too much for it all at once. It needs time to recover before we can send any more encrypted data.”

Crocodile could hear his teeth grinding together, but he kept still enough to speak a few words.

“Make sure it’s ready tomorrow.”

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Buggy felt somehow empty, and too full at the same time. His mind was too full of those vicious words his star had hissed, too full of fear and guilt over what to do about them.

“Secrets keep fucking shit up,” the clown murmured, pacing again.

It was just a lie. Star was lying to her sister.

It had been some damn good acting though, and Buggy hated the doubts it stirred in him. He couldn’t stuff them down.

I know she loves me, but could she really hate them? I could have sworn she…

Why ya gotta be such a good actor, baby?

Or maybe I’m just the selfish piece of shit that didn’t listen. I was too fucking distracted by that shithead. I wasn’t paying attention to you, Star, I just—

He gave a light yelp when the snail interrupted the constant beat of her heart, grateful to be distracted now while he floated toward Crocodile’s desk.

“Howdy,” Buggy coughed, perking up at the low chuckle that greeted him.

“Hello, little clown.”

“What’s up, crybaby?”

Mihawk’s voice sent chills across his skin, but all the clown could think about were those hateful words.

Murderers.

Monsters.

“Is that Crocodile,” the swordsman asked after a particularly loud crash echoed down the hall. “I have some news to report.”

“He’s watching…”

“Is he watching the feed?”

Now Mihawk’s voice chilled his blood.

“What feed?”

“I’m handling it,” his new lover tried and failed to soothe him. “Why don’t you two call me in the morning? I need to find a new room for the night anyway.”

“Why do you need— “

“How is she?”

Mihawk’s voice cracked just a bit, his desperation pushing through the relaxed front he’d clearly been holding up.

“Same. Finally sleeping,” Buggy rasped, clenching his eyes shut at the spike of a headache. “I’m gonna read my notes again, I think she said something… Crocodile might have something too, so we’ll call you tomorrow.”

…

“Mihawk?”

“You’ll tell me if she’s being hurt?”

“Yeah, I said I would.”

“And you’ll call me if she says she doesn’t want to be there? I don’t care if she whispers it in her sleep, Buggy, I’ll get her out. If she gives even the slightest opening, you’ll call me?”

…

“Bug— “

“Of course I will,” Buggy promised. It wasn’t a lie.

“Thank you. Get some rest, little clown.”

“You too, crybaby.”

Buggy stared blankly at the snail after the call until the near constant crashing and yelling down the corridor got louder. And closer.

His feet followed as fast as they could, but the rest of him charged into the banquet hall in time to see the terrifying sight of Sir Crocodile’s rage. The door to the conference room had been ripped off its hinges, and Buggy was caught in the other doorway, the urge to run held back only by the horror of what that frightening man might have seen.

Star…

Crocodile was alternating between smashing through tables and chairs with his hook, and draining them with his hand, leaving waves of splinters and sand to spill across the gleaming floor.

Until he made it to the head table.

“Hey boss, you really gonna wreck the best table in this shithole?”

Buggy had floated his upper body slightly above the other man’s head. He wasn’t stupid enough to put himself in between Crocodile and his fury, no matter how many memories that table held.

The clown almost fell from the air when those frantic, silver eyes met his.

“Is she still crying?”

“N-no… She’s sleeping.”

Crocodile fell to his knees, the tears on his scarred face slow and unsteady, as though they’d never traveled there before. Buggy brought himself together and did what he knew had to be a stupid thing.

He hugged the raging man, embracing this villain that had destroyed so much.

“I can’t… can’t leave her there, Buggy,” Crocodile panted into the crook of his neck. He nearly brought the clown to the floor with the amount of weight he rested on him.

“Don’t worry,” Buggy strained through his hold, “we’ve got her.”

The larger man crushed him against his chest, sucking down his tears before he started to offer comfort instead of taking it. Buggy made a show of accepting that comfort, knowing that he’d never be a better actor than his shining star.

Can’t tell ‘em. Can’t risk it.

The image of Crocodile and Mihawk collapsing in defeat at the party after Y/N had thrown her cruel words burned through his mind.

I know you’re lying, baby. You’re just a good actor.

Don’t wanna distract these idiots. They don’t know you like I do.

He tried to let go of his guilt, but those words played on a loop.

‘I don’t ever want to see those murderers— those monsters again.’

It wasn’t true.

It was a lie.

Buggy knew it was a lie.

It was a lie. Right, baby?

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The other men pushed and shoved each other when the scavenger hunt began, but Shanks had to hold himself back from the race. This one wouldn’t win him another date, and close contact with the other suitors had been pushing his self-control to its limit.

He’d always been able to let insults slide when it came to himself, when it was only words, but Shanks couldn’t recall this suffocating feeling.

This entire hunt was an insult, a torture made just for Y/N, and everyone here was having a lovely time using her.

Shanks could feel himself about to snap, and only his surety that it wouldn’t help her stayed his hand.

She couldn’t show her own rage, and it would be stupid and selfish to show his.

So, the red haired pirate sat this hunt out, staring at the old man that had weaseled his way beside her.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

What was the theme today? Creating love? Finding my heart? Uncle really should have hired a showrunner for this shit.

By gods, you were bored. And having “Gibby” at your side was only making your condition worse.

“These young bucks sure do like to show off,” he teased, leaning his bony shoulder against yours, the scent of whiskey nearly knocking you out. “But I know what a sharp girl like you craves.”

“And what’s that, Gibby,” you flirted.

It would be so easy to kill him, wouldn’t it? Just a good punch to the throat would probably end this old man. But that would be it. So many eyes… He’s not worth it.

“A challenge of course,” he announced as though revealing a delightful trick. “You want to use your talents. All these little boys want is a little wife.”

“Oh,” you arched a brow, “and what do you want?”

The creep pinched your cheek. Even with your renewed determination, pretending was fucking rough.

“I want Lady Luck by my side, of course.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

How many… Do lives or liters of blood count for more? Those lives are nothing but—

“Mihawk?”

“I’m here.”

Crocodile’s voice was off. If not for his trained sense of hearing, Mihawk would have believed that voice belonged to someone else.

But it was him. His daddy. His brutal business partner that was too sweet on their former victims.

“You go first, crybaby,” Buggy threatened, bringing a tiny smile to the swordsman’s lips.

“Sylvad’s little game has an illegal broadcast,” Mihawk shared lightly, pretending it was fine. “Underground gambling rings are holding showings every night for an impressive fee. The show appears to be isolated to the surrounding island kingdoms, but that’s probably wishful thinking.”

The silence was torturous for them all, holding nothing but impotent rage.

Mihawk stretched his neck, removing his hat to keep it from scraping against the dusty walls. He’d found a lovely, little shed to lie in wait in until his prey were all lined up.

“I’ll be attending a showing tonight, so I should be able to watch the hunt. I’ll study the layout, and hopefully I’ll see something that you aren’t able to hear.”

“So, we’re all spying on her now,” Buggy sighed. The sound was so animated; Mihawk could see those shoulders slumping in his mind.

He didn’t know when he’d gotten so used to these men in his life.

“Wait,” he interrupted his own thoughts. “Crocodile, if you weren’t watching the feed last night, what were you watching?”

“He can’t tell us,” Buggy said, his voice gentle, but pained. “Recordings of Y/N at the asylum. Croc’s poky, lady agent, and the scary, little girl nicked them for us. “

Mihawk’s blood froze in his veins as the memory of her flashed in his mind. His rabbit had looked so beautiful that last day. Beautiful, but wrong.

“Crocodile?”

…

“Can you tell us anything yet, boss? Daddy?”

“Just a kill list,” Crocodile rasped, and Mihawk realized what that tone in his voice was.

Despair.

“I haven’t finished watching yet. Just waiting on the snail. She wouldn't want me to hurt the snail…”

“Okie dokie,” Buggy loudly redirected, the sound of awkward pats coming through. “Star said something to her sister when she was crying last night. I think Asshole Charmer was right, she’s trying to protect Kat from something.”

“What did— “

“She said, ‘I left you,” Buggy rushed before either man finished asking, the strain in his voice ramping up. “Then she lied again. Told Kat she wanted to be there.”

“They wouldn’t let her see her sister,” Crocodile breathed, a distance in his words that had nothing to do with the ocean between them.

“So, we have to find out what Kathryn Sylvad needs protection from,” the swordsman hummed. “When our little rabbit showed us her fangs, she mentioned the Celestial— “

“Kat said Uncle LimpDick can’t sell her anymore though. She’s too old for those creeps.”

“But Y/N didn’t know that until she got to the estate. If that’s why she left, then we can—”

Hope had crept into Crocodile’s voice, and it was almost more painful to hear, especially when it was killed so quickly.

“She could have gotten out with the merman yesterday,” Buggy reminded him, his usual frustration seeming muted. Anger was still present, but it was wrapped up in softer, sadder things while he caught Mihawk up on the prince’s offer. “Star’s acting like a fucking martyr.”

“It’s gotta be the doctor. Sylvad said something about the fucking doctor before she left us,” Crocodile trailed off, leaving them all to sink into the memory of that night. “That’s who she fears.”

“Then that’s who dies first.”

That dusty, little shed became a cage, the monster within him nearly tearing through it at the thought of blood.

“Wait,” his clown commanded.

He obeyed.

“You can’t just run in there and kill everyone on your own now. You have to protect both of them. We need a plan.”

This silence was full of caution, but it held the taste of possibilities.

The swordsman wanted to sever his own tongue for dashing that new hope so soon.

“We can’t force them. If her sister wants to keep that stifled life, then Y/N won’t forgive us for ripping her from it.”

Mihawk sighed, remembering the rage on his darling’s face so clearly. It might be the only face of hers that he’d be worthy of seeing again.

“So, I’m still our last resort. I’ll take her hate for you, Buggy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy groaned. “We know more than we did before, so we just need to keep looking. We’re gonna get her back. You got that, shitheads?”

How strange to recognize the sound of a hug. Buggy’s little hum of surprise, followed by a soft sigh that had to be from Crocodile’s lips, hit Mihawk with a wave of heat. The sensation built up in his throat until he shook it off.

Y/N wouldn't be the only thing he’d lose if he stole her away. The World’s Greatest Swordsman would lose this strange, little home he’d found with this strange, little guild.

“You got it, boss,” Mihawk teased.

“Shut up.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. President,” Crocodile joined in.

The swordsman smiled in that dusty shed, pretending for a moment that this strange, little home he’d found would still be his.

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Giberson never shut the fuck up, so you hadn’t caught most of the scavenger hunt, but soon enough, Uncle Cedrick was announcing the winner.

“There are no rules against hunters helping each other win,” he teased while the Vinsmoke brothers walked toward you. Ichiji was carrying a large wooden heart, a few missing pieces of the puzzle held in the losers’ hands, but he held the most.

Apparently, the younger brothers had given their pieces to the oldest prince, flanking him as they all knelt before you.

“I’m looking forward to showering you with many more gifts,” he smirked, smoothing his fingers over yours when he placed that wooden heart in your lap. “Gifts worthy of a princess.”

Cheesy. Cocky. His brothers’ lecherous stares weren’t helping.

But I might as well enjoy it, you thought, gifting him with a coy smile.

~~~

This opulent room had always been too ridiculously large to be the family game room, especially since you’d only play with your dad, or your sister, never both. Dad always had some work to take care of when Kat asked to play, and Mom never liked board games.

At least someone’s still playing games in here.

“Come here, sugar,” Giberson pulled you along, looking healthier than you’d seen him so far. “You ever played Blackjack?”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

“Hit me.”

“Is that an order, sir?”

Crocodile chuckled, feeling loose for a rare moment while he smirked at the woman across the table. Rain Dinners was as vibrant as ever, a stolen oasis that he planned to grow. The casino pulsed with greed, but a quiet air seemed to fall over the two of them.

“No orders at the table, sweetheart. You know that.”

Fuck.

This woman’s silence always held an itching weight, that little smile making him narrow his eyes. He was the one that had slipped up. No time for that.

Not until his work was done.

“Hm, it looks like a bust for both of us, sir. I hope your orders don’t land us in a similar position,” she taunted in that airy voice of hers, as though her thoughts were merely floating through space, drifting by with no fault of her own. Yet her eyes sparkled.

Crocodile ignored how much he liked it when they did that.

“Have a little faith, Miss All Sunday,” he grinned, the noise of the casino drowned out by her soft chuckle, her haunted eyes filling with a hard edge, a challenge. “Don’t you trust me? We’re gonna build a better world together.”

Her soft chuckle turned to outright laughter, the pretty sound bringing more eyes to their elevated table. That beautiful face tilted back, and the brim of her white hat shifted enough to let the glittering lights touch her skin.

He paused to watch her, knowing that he was distracted. Knowing that she was an agent, that he couldn’t risk losing his balance until he’d met his goal.

This girl is nothing but an asset. That’s all anyone is until I’m done.

“Come, Crocodile, you and I both know that trust can be a fatal mistake. I know you didn’t bring me here for false promises, and I would leave if I thought you’d become such a sentimental fool.”

Soft hands sprouted from the table before him, lighting his cigar, and holding it to his lips while he gave a few gentle puffs. Those taunting eyes never strayed from his.

“You know me too well,” he laughed, taking a larger sip of scotch than he’d meant to. This asset of his had many uses, and interesting company was becoming too much of a favorite. “What kind of world do you wanna build when we get there?”

The way she stared at him… It was as though she was right there, seeing deep into the core of him, yet somehow distant. No matter how much time she spent by his side, they were always light years apart.

“Are you feeling sentimental, boss?”

“Not at all,” Crocodile snorted before downing the rest of his drink. He motioned for another round but couldn’t shake off the sticky feeling of her knowing gaze.

She’s right. What the fuck am I doing? Can’t think like this. Not yet.

Nico Robin smirked while her many hands gathered the cards, dealing a fresh game. Crocodile found himself feeling proud of her practiced distance, but had to fight harder than he should have to keep from tugging at it.

Trust is worthless in a world like this.

“Well, boss?”

“Hit me.”

So, I’ll make a better world.

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Everything was shining. Unlike most casinos, the shine in your family’s estate wasn’t just for show.

It was another world. The glamor, the music, and the liquor seemed to hypnotize the crowd. Time was a commodity here, seconds falling away like the chips on the table.

You might have been drawn in if you hadn’t been squeezed into this slinky, sequined dress. Viridian green sparkled under the lights, and it wasn’t as uncomfortable as you’d thought it would be. Still fucking distracting though.

I wonder what his casino was like. Would he have liked this dress? He did prefer scales over—

Stop.

You almost asked why Giberson had foregone his private date for this public display but decided not to risk giving him the opening to take you somewhere else. He dragged a velvet covered stool close beside him before wrapping his frail arm around your shoulders, pulling you as close to his side as possible.

Your smile stayed pretty under the golden lights, even as the sounds of the small casino bombarded you. All the hunters, and more guests than you’d seen here before, watched your every move when they weren’t losing berry.

“What’d ya say, darlin,” he winked, nodding toward the cards on the table. “Should I risk it?”

At least there’s something for me to focus on.

“Hit me,” he declared when you nodded, whistling and jostling you when he hit twenty one. “I knew I had a good feeling about you.”

“Is this why you’re here, Gibby? I’m sure you realize that my husband won’t need to gamble to be swimming in berry.”

Those words should not have left your lips. You didn’t need the nearest cam-snail’s drooping eyes to tell you that, but you couldn’t take it back. Playing up the flirtation was all you could think of to salvage it.

The old man raised a brow at you, chuckling at your fluttering lashes.

“You are a sweet, devilish thing, aren’t you, dear?”

Your denial died on your tongue when your eyes got caught across the room, your red-haired prey staring hard at the hand Giberson had brought to your chin.

This old man deserved your gratitude for tilting your face away from those soft, brown eyes.

“I am many things, Gibby,” you purred. “And I am sure that you should stand.”

“I’ve gotta listen to my Lady Luck,” he laughed, wiggling your shoulders to show you off to the leeches at the table.

“Isn’t that cheating,” one of them mumbled, earning a sickly, sweet smile from your lips.

“All is fair in love and war,” you teased, tapping the felt-covered table with one of Giberson’s many chips. “Besides, card counters have to watch a game for longer than I’ve been at the table. It was just a lucky guess.”

Oh, how you ached to smash that entitled asshole’s face onto the shining table.

“You’re one to talk, Linus,” Giberson leaned around you to smirk at the man. The scent of liquor on his breath hit you like a train. “I believe you’re on mistress number three, aren’t you? Or what should we call this newest one, a boy toy? I suppose if Annie knows, then it’s not cheating, but either way, I’m sure she knows now.”

Linus’ face went from annoyance to horror impressively fast when he glanced at the very not-droopy snail on the table, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing.

The man snarled, barely shifting toward you before Uncle’s security guards snatched him away.

“Poor Linus,” you sighed while you shook your head. The satisfaction that warmed your skin only proved your self-hating thoughts, but it was more entertaining than being empty.

Everyone here is a leech. Gorging on my blood and humiliation, eating me alive so they can feel more alive for a while. Fuck them all.

“Don’t worry about him,” your date pulled you back toward the game, “Annie’s been sleeping with his mother since their wedding night, so I’m sure she won’t be too broken up over it.”

You laughed enough that when he bought a bottle and poured you both a shot, you drank the burning whiskey.

After he drank his first, of course.

Then you won him lots of berry and giggled while he whispered secrets about all those shining guests in your ear.

Maybe this old man isn’t so boring after all.

Laughing, and winning, and numbing it all down felt so good. If only you could rid yourself of those stupid, brown eyes that stuck to you more than the old man’s weak hand on your sequined thigh.

“Do you know anything about— “

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Giberson hummed, filling your glass again. He nodded toward the red-haired pirate in the corner before shaking his head. “Afraid I can’t talk about the competition. I’d like to survive long enough to see the end of this delightful game.”

~~~

The corridors were endless. You’d traveled them so many times as a kid, but never quite like this.

Never drunk, in stupid, pointy heels that got caught in the plush carpet, while annoying servants tried to grab your elbows every time you swayed.

It was fine.

It was stupid.

But you weren’t even mad at yourself for being so reckless. Apathy could save or ruin you in a place like this.

All you wanted was to feel nothing. There were many kinds of numb to find, but this particular buzz was wearing off too fast.

You had kept up your smile, and the bells had rung before you lost your mind to liquor. Yet now that the wall of eyes wasn’t on you, that liquor felt thick in your veins, and you needed to scream.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

“I’m sorry, Miss Sylvad, but— “

“I’ll take it from here. We wouldn’t want any more accidents now, would we, niece?”

You blinked, and the staff had already scurried away, leaving you alone with him.

“My little smarty,” Uncle Cedrick teased, digging his fingers into your arm while he guided you toward your suite. “Finally contributing to the family, after all these years. You almost had me believing that you’d like to marry that old bastard.”

“It’s too early to tell.”

Damn it…

A different kind of numb pulled you down while your gaze trailed down his face.

His jaw is moving a lot. It’s okay. No, not the lips. Jaw. Eyes are too much. Can’t look up. Just down. Can’t look away.

Fuck, I’m dizzy.

“He was never in the running anyway. The nuisance learned about the hunt and asked to join, and I couldn’t risk insulting the man.”

All the words were hitting your wobbly brain, a headache building behind your brow until you gasped at his sudden touch. Your uncle gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze in the darkened hallway.

“You’re going to send the old man away tomorrow, and the fishman the day after that. You may be a selfish brat, but you’re still a Sylvad. It wouldn’t do to let you get stuffed full of expired seed, or guppies, now, would it?”

His eyes flared with satisfaction when you couldn’t hide the horror and disgust that twisted your features. You were trapped, gulping down your bile while he leaned over you, gripping tighter.

“Keep up the good work, niece,” Uncle hummed while he tilted you toward your door. “Now go wash up. Whiskey isn’t a flattering scent on a blushing bride.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

There was no point in fixing the conference room. Any replacement furniture would have been shattered the second he saw those tear-filled eyes on the screen.

A makeshift door had been propped up for privacy, although there was no one but Buggy within range of Crocodile’s rage.

That pathetic, useless rage that left the scarred man sitting on the floor in a pile of splinters and sand again, fighting not to drink. Not yet, at least.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Is it ready,” Crocodile rasped, not ready for the answer.

“I believe so, sir,” Zala reported, her lovely voice too somber to be soothing. “The next cam-snail’s date is a bit smudged, so I’m not certain the timing is right. We’re trying to send them in order— “

“Just send it.”

…

“Agent?”

“Of course, sir,” the deadly woman breathed, strangely soft through the line. “Do you have orders for us when we arrive? We still have over a week, but it could be two days less if we— “

“Await your orders,” Crocodile growled, more at his own powerlessness than her questioning.

“Of course,” Zala conceded, sharing her next words in a rush before ending the call. “We’ll get her back, sir. I won’t fail again.”

~~~

For a cruel moment, Crocodile’s breath caught in hope. His sweet girl looked better.

He should have known better.

‘How are you feeling today, Y/N?’

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

‘I’m feeling well, thank you, doctor,’ she hummed softly, keeping her eyes low, although the doctor was still offscreen. A nurse guided her to sit, no restraints holding her to the table this time.

‘Are you ready to begin?’

‘Yes, doctor.’

His girl was empty. Poised and polite with nothing inside.

They made a doll out of her.

‘Just breathe, Y/N,’ Dr. Vorsan instructed, his slippery voice making Crocodile’s fingers twitch. ‘The snail won’t hurt you, and you aren’t going to hurt it.’

‘Of course, I won’t–’

‘Soft hands, Y/N,’ he warned while she unclenched her jaw and fists.

A transponder snail was placed on the table before her, and her eyes went slow and droopy while she stared at it.

‘We discussed this, Y/N.’ The doctor clicked his tongue while the nurse reached for the snail. Y/N shook herself but stopped before her hand got too close to the creature.

Her eyes were wide now, her panicked breaths loud enough for him to hear all these years later.

‘I’m sorry, please,’ Y/N strained, going empty again while she pleaded. ‘I’m okay. I want to call my sister.’

‘Are you sure you’re ready,’ Vorsan needled. That voice was so perfectly kind, yet violent. It was a syringe that promised healing, but forced too much, poisoning with what seemed like a cure. ‘Take your time, Y/N. If you push yourself too far, you might have another episode, and I know you don’t want to put your family through that. You don’t want to hurt–’

‘I want to be well, doctor.’

Wrong. So, fucking wrong.

‘Please, let me try again,’ Y/N begged, her sweet voice placating the monster out of view. ‘I’ll breathe and go slow. I want to get better.’

The nurse brought the snail back, and Crocodile couldn’t tell how much time passed while she stared at it. Her eyes were present, yet he could see the strain, her almost-smile shaking a bit.

“What the fuck?”

The fucking snail had started ringing, and Y/N’s scream made him choke. She struggled to swallow it down, rocking in her seat until the nurse reached out to take it. She took in a breath when she reached out instead to answer, that sickening smile on her face.

‘Hey, smarty.’

Crocodile’s hook dug deep lines along the floor.

‘I heard you were practicing with the snail today, so I thought I’d help out. We all want you back home, safe and sound. Although, I suppose it’s not your safety we should be worrying about.’

If not for the slow shine of unspilled tears that grew in her eyes, Crocodile would have thought the recording had paused. She was frozen, until she flinched at his next words.

‘I should probably check on little Kathryn. I told them not to sail this close to Aqua Laguna, but you know how stubborn–’

‘You’re lying,’ she screamed, spittle flying toward the snail before nurses appeared to restrain her. ‘Let me talk to my sister!’

‘Oh dear, you don’t sound very well, niece. I hope–’

‘Fuck you! Where’s Kat? Let me see my– Get your fucking hands off of me! I’m gonna kill…’

Cedrick Sylvad’s laughter creeped through the air, the transponder snail carrying that vile sound through space and time.

Y/N had gone still, letting the nurses entangle their arms with hers, trapping her between them while they called nonsensical orders to each other in bland voices.

She didn’t cry.

Didn’t apologize.

Didn’t fight.

She looked like she’d been defeated, and Sylvad’s gloating laughter proved the point.

‘I hope you get well soon, niece,” her uncle taunted. ‘I’ll tell your sister you’re not ready yet, once she gets back. Hopefully she makes it before the storm hits.’

Crocodile’s sweet girl slumped, her body going limp while so many others held her up. Cedrick Sylvad’s laughter ripped through the air until she was carted away, and the wall went dark.

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

The scene above was from Crocodile’s POV as he watched another recording of Y/N at the asylum. During this recording, Crocodile noticed that the reader appeared to be “better.” However, the prodding voice of Dr. Vorsan, and the reveal of a transponder snail showed that the reader was struggling to maintain her “doll-like” emptiness. The reader expressed a desire to speak with her sister, and was cooperating with the doctor, although he scolded her and reminded her of the potential violence she may cause. The reader remained calm and requested to try speaking with the snail again. The snail rang unexpectedly, and her uncle began to speak through it, causing the reader to become afraid, then react violently when Cedrick stated that her sister was currently sailing close to the time of the Aqua Laguna storm. The reader began to yell and threaten violence, until she looked defeated while her uncle laughed. The reader went limp while nurses restrained her and carried her away before the recording ended.

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Leave her alone, Uncle,” Kat seethed, charging into the hall to pull you from his grasp.

“I’m just making sure she gets home safe,” he teased, clicking his tongue before releasing you. “Looks like big sis needs your help tonight. Aren’t you relieved that you won’t have to be her babysitter for much longer?”

“Fuck you— “

“It’s alright, Kitty,” you smiled, fighting your shaking muscles, and the nausea that flooded your body. “You got any snacks in your suite?”

“Ta-ta,” Uncle Cedrick smirked, thankfully walking away.

Leaving you with her.

Fuck. I’m making her take care of me again. Selfish. Piece of shit. Stop.

“What kind of snacks do you want,” Kat frowned. Her eyes were sharp against your swaying form, but you held up your smile for her.

“Salty. Crunchy.”

“Alright, drunky,” she rolled her eyes, “will you drink some fucking water first?”

~~~

Gods, it’s bright. Smile. Don’t forget to smile.

“Are you feeling well, niece?”

Uncle Cedrick beamed down at you, guiding you to the fallen tree in the courtyard, where the applause that greeted you made you want to chop your fucking ears off. The ungodly amount of coffee you’d inhaled during the breakfast with Giberson had been for naught, and you couldn’t recall any of the long winded stories he’d trampled you with.

There’d be no more of his stories for you after this.

“Good afternoon, fine friends and hunters,” he addressed the crowd, and the suitors lined up along the carved bench. His practiced movements spread large across the side of the manor for all to see. You caught him glancing at his image on the projector screen enough times that you almost laughed.

It probably would have hurt to laugh right now.

“Before today’s hunt begins, I’m afraid that one of our contestants has missed the mark.”

Uncle pulled an arrow from the quiver at his back. He pressed the point of it to your chest, making the leeches gasp with mock fear or delight before he broke it in half.

“Go on, dear niece,” he ordered, pressing the splintered wood into your hand. “Who failed to pierce your heart?”

Don’t let it in. Nothing matters. Just her.

Fading into yourself, you put on a show, avoiding the sight of your simpering smile on the wall. Tittering noises filled the air while the wooden platform moved you from suitor to suitor, and you could hear the vultures calling out their last-minute bets.

You put on a good show, but eyes were too much. An inch below their left eye. That’s where you’d look while you paused.

No favorites. No least favorites.

The moving platform wasn’t helping your nausea, or it might have been the scent of the Emperor whose crooked smile was almost as abhorrent to look at as his soft eyes.

The painfully slow display finally came to a halt, the stench of whiskey still too fresh in your mind.

The old man hadn’t been that bad though.

“I’m sorry, Gibby. Your arrow didn’t pierce my heart.”

He took the broken arrow, before kissing your forehead, his mustache scratching along your skin.

“Not to worry, my dear,” Giberson soothed, humming at the noises of the winners and losers in the crowd. From the sound of it, he’d been an underdog in the race anyway. “I feel lucky just to be here at all. Thank you for the lovely company.”

You needed to sit down.

You had to keep smiling.

“Of course, Gibby,” your uncle shmoozed, gripping Giberson by the shoulder. He appeared to be speaking to the failed hunter, but his voice was too clear, his words too pointed.

Another part of the show.

“You may not be in the running to be our family, but you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t a friend of the Sylvad’s,” Uncle Cedrick glowed as the leeches practically moaned at the implication. Everyone wanted to be in his world. “You are more than welcome to stay for the festivities as a guest, so long as you don’t act like a sore loser and ruin the fun, of course.”

The joviality in the air was too full of greed. Your future was never going to be yours, but you hadn't expected him to let so many others join in his game.

This game that never fucking stopped.

“Our lovely doe has requested a show of love for today’s hunt,” he took your hand and spun you for the crowd, grabbing you by the waist to keep you from tripping over yourself. “Run along, hunters. In the woods you’ll find materials of all sorts, but you’re welcome to use your own. Create something to show how you’ll care for your dear wife once you catch her. Care to give them any tips, Y/N?”

Fuck you.

“The man I love will make me smile.”

Uncle Cedrick caught his frown before it fully formed, but your tiny rebellion went cold when his eyes flicked to the locket you were fidgeting with.

“You heard the doe, hunters,” he ordered, studying your shaky hands that you dropped to your sides too fast. “Make your prey smile before you pierce her heart.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

He shouldn’t have been dropping his guard like this, but something about this room, this ridiculous, green couch, and that sweet girl’s flustered face, had Sir Crocodile fighting off a smile.

“But… I’ve still got work to do, and they— “

“Is my sweet girl worried about other men right now,” he threatened, patting the cushion beside him while he tried to keep his balance.

The clown was off preparing for that gods awful show they’d have to sit through at the party, while the swordsman ran through security. Since Crocodile had already sent agents out to hunt for party favors, he had a free moment, and he chose to spend it taunting their numbers girl.

She looked so pretty with that flash of fear in her eyes.

Especially when she gave in so quickly.

“N-no, I…”

“You’ve been working so hard. I can help you relax. Wanna take a break, sweetheart?”

Y/N bit her lip softly, and Crocodile nearly launched himself at her. Patience wasn’t one of his virtues, but luckily his numbers girl got to her feet.

“Not so fast, darlin,” he teased while she yelped in his grasp, moving through sand to carry her before she could take a step with her bare feet.

“Fuck!”

She looked so cute when he tossed her onto his desk. Y/N was shaking so much that he almost stopped, his fingers clenching against the wooden desk while he took a final puff of his cigar. The feel of smoke on his tongue only made him crave her more.

“Well, sweetheart, you’re not scared to be alone with me, are— “

“I want you, daddy,” Y/N vowed, her voice like some heavenly song, guiding him toward things he didn’t deserve. She sat up, reaching, clinging to him until he chuckled and pushed her soft fingers away. She’d tugged at his silk scarf, and he let her keep the purple fabric when he shoved her back onto the desk.

“Are you gonna be a good girl, and relax for me,” he taunted. Crocodile stamped out his cigar before kneeling beside his desk, fighting his smile again at every desperate noise she made while he set her legs up on his shoulders. She nodded fast while he tore through her cheap panties with his hook, and her scent finally did him in.

This ex-warlord, this wicked pirate, this bad man… was smiling. Smiling from pleasure and peace instead of cruelty and greed.

Sir Crocodile caught his smile as he pressed it against that sweet, swollen flesh, loving the way she tore at his hair. Her fingers went rough, then weak, again and again, as though she couldn’t help her need, but feared his reaction.

“Let go, sweetheart. Let Daddy have it all,” he purred before shoving his tongue so deep. He moaned while he drank at her pleasure, proud of how she took what she needed, pulling his hair at the roots while she fell apart.

“You’re doing so well,” Crocodile praised, fighting everything in him not to claim this sweet girl for himself, his own little dream.

“Please, daddy.”

“My little girl’s so hungry,” he laughed while his fingers teased along all the wetness she spread before him. “You can have everything you want.”

Y/N had pushed onto her elbows to meet his eyes, but fell back, her body arching when he shoved two fingers into her pretty cunt. Her moans were so fucking precious that the ex-warlord’s mind went blank. Nothing but her.

“It’s still work hours, sugar. Try to keep it down.”

Fuck, she was gorgeous when her eyes rolled back, eagerly letting him shove that purple silk into her mouth. She was already crying when he undid his slacks, freeing himself to tease along that needy flesh.

Crocodile missed, pouring lube down the side of the desk before covering his leaking cock. She was too good of a girl for him to rush this, but the feel of his own lubed hand was nearly enough while he watched her begging beneath him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he guided her while he held himself back. “You can take it, can’t you?”

He tried to be gentle, but Y/N still cried and screamed, so he fucked himself into her until his scarf fell from her lips.

“It’s too— feels too good— fuck!!”

She spoke the truth until he shoved the silk back into her mouth. It felt too fucking good to fill her up, to feel her body stretching and fighting to hold him. So soft, so wet, so fucking tight around his cock with every thrust.

But she could take him. She could take all of him, and she looked beautifully wrecked while she did, that silk scarf dark with spit now when he tugged it from her lips again.

“Where does my sweet girl— “

“Inside me, daddy,” Y/N cried out before her body milked his again, eyes going white while she came. “Come inside me, please!”

“Fuck, you take me so well, baby girl. Mm— so fucking perfect…”

Crocodile held her down, pressing his palm against her chest. He hadn’t realized that his hook had been tracing along her side until he started filling her, but she looked like she was enjoying it, so he didn’t bother to stop.

She looked like she was enjoying getting fucked by a monster.

She looked so sweet when he met her eyes, pulling out slowly to keep from causing more harm.

“Daddy…”

“Hey, sweet girl,” he hummed while he kissed her neck. Her squirms were enough, and he felt his scarred face smiling against her skin once more. “How— “

“You could have just said you wanted her to yourself for a while,” the swordsman taunted from the doorway that had opened too quietly.

Or maybe Crocodile had let himself get too distracted.

“I thought you didn’t like liars,” Mihawk smirked, moving close enough to snag the spit-soaked scarf from the desk.

“We got some work done,” Crocodile told the truth, although it felt like a lie when he looked down at her. “My sweet girl just needed a break.”

~~~⏰🐊🐊🐊⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

Their faces were easy to match up with the voices he’d planned to end while he listened in that dusty shed. This drab, little hole had been shined up so brightly, almost passing for a real casino, but Mihawk knew it could still use a fresh coat of red paint.

“I suppose that only imbeciles would fail to recognize me when I walk through the door. I had assumed that was what all of you were, given your foolish choice in hobbies.”

“Hawkeye— Mr. Mihawk, sir, please,” the owner of the stale, little hall beckoned him toward the sticky, corner booth, “you’re an honored guest! Please, relax, and let us show you how we party in Majiastuka.”

The slim possibility of those words swaying the ex-warlord burned away when faraway voices filled the air.

‘You’re our little princess now.’

Their deaths would come later. For now, Mihawk kept his gaze away from the projector screen, and the flustered face of his little rabbit.

“What a delightful invitation,” the world’s greatest swordsman sneered, drawing his black blade to hover over the filthy floorboards. “Unfortunately, I have already had my fill of your wretched squeals. Unless you can tell me how to reach Miss Sylvad, your worthless time on this planet is over.”

“Fuck thi— “

A coward off to the side stumbled while he cursed, fleeing toward the door. Mihawk didn’t even need to shift his eyes in that direction; Yoru simply flicked across the floor, the blade smacking into a chair that cracked the man’s neck when it hit.

Every movement, every breath was precise.

A predator, and its prey.

“Hey man, I’m sorry, okay,” the pathetic kingpin begged while the ex-warlord stalked closer. “How can I help? Anything, please!”

“Such a well-mannered beast,” Mihawk growled while he dug his nails into the man’s jaw. “I’m taking your special snail, and I shall take your life if you don’t tell me where the fuck you got it from.”

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

This might be the worst idea you’d ever had.

“It’s a…”

“Graham cracker house. They’re usually gingerbread, but no one likes to eat that shit.”

Cracker beamed down at you, so proud of the sloppy, edible house that he’d dropped onto your lap.

“That’s you,” he pointed toward the misshapen figure by the front door. “I know that you’re a good girl that wants to help your family. I’ll help you be happy and safe, and you’ll help our family grow.”

Oh.

The misshapen clump finally took shape in your mind; that fucked up cracker was meant to be you.

Barefoot and pregnant.

This is super fucking fun.

“Thank you, Cracker. It’s lovely.”

“It’s trash,” Cracker corrected with that menacing grin, and you almost yelped when he touched your face. You had to meet his eyes, and that basic, human intimacy, coupled with the scent of that sugary house, nearly had you spilling your disgust onto the floor.

Nausea had you in a chokehold, but that didn’t stop your smile.

This ridiculous man leaned down, and the sparks at the ends of his hair were too fucking close to your face when he purred in your ear.

“You’re the only lovely thing I see.”

~~~

How strange that the sight of such a light and precious thing could drag you down so far.

In the place of a pearl, the shell opened to show a long-lasting bubble. The treasure had become a reminder of your selfishness and privilege, yet your heart still ached at the sight.

Precious trees had helped create this little magic. Sabaody should have been treasured, protected.

Instead, it was hell: a humiliating torture for people that didn’t look like you.

“It’s beautiful, Prince Fukaboshi,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

“It is nowhere near as beautiful as your selfless heart.”

Smiling was harder when you had to swallow the burning bile on the back of your tongue.

~~~

“This is very nice,” you lied.

“It’s a poor rendition,” your prey laughed at his ugly drawing of what looked like a pile of fingers until you deciphered the shapes. “Starfish cling to their world, holding tight to their home… I could have stolen it for you, but it’s not right to take a star from where it belongs.”

“So, you left my star all alone,” you managed to pout; you were a selfish, spoiled, rich girl.

Starfish were apparently too much for you to handle.

~~~

“What do ya think, numbers girl?”

That deep voice made you shiver, shaking you out of your fog, but into the chaos of old desire.

You knew you should hate him. You should be disgusted by his mere presence here, by all the details that would make your eyebrows raise if you heard them about a similar relationship.

But you were too far gone to give a fuck.

Mr. Iceburg was smiling at you. He was reaching out to rest his hand on yours before offering a gift he’d made with those same, lovely hands. The rough skin scraping against yours seemed to send you back in time, a teenage craving, still unfulfilled.

“There wasn’t enough time, but I hope you like it,” Iceburg hummed when he placed a small, carved ship in your palm. The rough wood smelled incredible, and it was beautiful, rough as it was.

All the details were vague, but your thumb traced across the redwood he’d carved onto the main sail.

It wasn’t just his looks that had stolen your heart when you were younger. Mr. Iceburg had an air of kindness and wonderment about him that reminded you what those feelings could be like.

Were you too far gone to feel that light?

Was he too much of a leech for it to be real?

Who fucking cares? It’s Mr. Iceburg.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“So, you left my star all alone?”

Y/N’s pouting lips were too much; Shanks was horrified by her ability to lie with every part of her.

“Well, I…”

That fallen star smiled while the bells called him away, and she chose another man, yet again.

~~~

The Great Red-Haired Shanks was fucking useless.

He had fucked up so completely that his every step to fix things put miles and miles between them.

And he couldn’t fucking talk about it.

The estate was literally crawling with snails, so Shanks couldn’t risk speaking openly to his first mate. He couldn’t relax for a second with how hyper aware he’d become of the low hum of their presence.

How the fuck does she live like this?

Throughout the pain and hardships of his own life, this Emperor of the Sea had carried something with him that he was lacking here, and the discomfort of its loss felt like another phantom pain, an unreachable itch.

Shanks was raised as a pirate.

He was raised to be free.

No one was free on this wretched island, except for the tyrant that toyed with them all.

Cedrick Sylvad hadn’t joined the group that flocked to his little casino for a second night. He didn’t need the cash.

The red-haired pirate followed the leeches and did his best to shove his frustrations aside while he fought for her.

“Still here, huh?”

“Why would I leave,” Giberson breathed noxious fumes into his face while he leaned over his cards. “This game’s only just begun.”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Kat’s face pulled you into the moment, her quivering lips failing to hold back her disparaging smile.

You couldn’t blame her.

“That’s a really nice cape,” she snorted, falling into laughter.

“I thought you wanted me to marry a Vinsmoke.” Your words were strained, although annoyance or laughter could have been the cause.

“Totally,” she managed to deadpan. “Definitely the number one choice.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

It was so good to see her cackle, even if you had to wear this poofy, frilly, fire-engine red gown to make it happen.

The cape wasn’t nearly as bad as the embroidered “ones” along the hems.

“I want you to marry one of them if…”

“Spit it out,” you ordered, holding in your own laughs while Kat fell apart.

“If they’re your number one choice,” she squeaked again while she steadied herself with a hand on her thigh.

You couldn’t blame her. Not with the state your hair was in.

~~~

“Tonight, we have lifted one of our rules for the sake of fairness to our esteemed hunters,” Uncle charmed the crowd, his fingers resting on the back of your neck.

He looked down at you with that practiced mask of a doting uncle while he gripped your skin like you were an unruly animal that he had to control.

“My dear niece must remain within the borders of the island, but the sky’s the limit now.”

He stepped away with a smirk, and you were too drained from smiling to care what he meant. It was always a game at your expense. You were just glad that he wasn’t touching you anymore.

Resisting the urge to scratch his eyes out like the unruly animal you were took a lot of energy, and you were going to need it tonight.

The vultures were practically squealing while Prince Ichiji walked up the path, flanked on either side by his brothers. The ruffles on their shirts looked natural on them, and their capes just reminded you that they were royalty, even if they descended from vicious conquerors who claimed that status. From all you’d gathered, these current Vinsmokes seem to carry that violent legacy.

Except for when they looked at you.

Ichiji held out the longest, but soon the three of them were staring at you like hungry puppies. Niji and Yonji knelt at your sides to kiss your hands, thoroughly. Ichiji leaned down, the swoops in his red hair casting distracting shadows across his face beneath the lanterns.

“Everyone’s fighting to take home the lovely prize,” he breathed against your ear before he pulled back to meet your eyes. “But they can’t have you.”

“Oh,” you tried to tease, but the kisses still peppering your hands and fingers were too distracting. “Why is that?”

The three of them laughed, and you would have fallen if they hadn’t gripped your hands in time. The three princes had all touched their belts, and the colorful raid suits they were so famous for spread over them instantly, to roaring applause. You hadn’t had time to catch your breath before Ichiji lifted you into his arms.

“You’re our little princess now.”

Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t scream.

“Don’t be scared, pretty,” he comforted, though his pleased voice didn’t stop the world from disappearing beneath you.

“Yeah, I’ll catch you if he drops you,” Yonji flew close to your cheek.

“I won’t drop her.”

How does their hair stay like that in the wind, you thought, giggling to yourself while you watched the trees beneath you.

“Can I touch the top of a tree?”

“You can touch anything you– ”

“Back off, Niji,” Ichiji growled at his blue haired brother that had flown too close this time before returning to that simpering voice. “Of course, princess. We can find every tree on the island, if you like.”

“Just one is lovely, thank you.”

Touching the top of a redwood tree had never crossed your mind, but the feel of it against your fingers gave you a moment of sweetness at the thought of telling your dad about it. He would be so excited, and he’d want to know every detail, until you both were scribbling on notepads to calculate how long it would take to touch every tree on the island.

It was stupid. How could you stay numb when you kept reminding yourself of pain, or of something far crueler than that?

Happiness and love would tear you apart.

~~~

If you weren’t out of breath, you might have giggled again at how well the scene fit with your last thought.

Another clearing on another stolen hill had come into view, during one of the brief glances you’d sent toward the ground. That ground was coming too close, too fast, but the scent hit you before your feet touched the ground.

Someone had planted a circular wall of roses that was taller than you’d thought possible for the flower. You had learned that the realm of possibility was vaster than you could imagine. What were some huge rose bushes compared to everything else in your world?

Ichiji set you down beside a gorgeous table of dark wood, with large, cushioned chairs in that matching rose-red.

He poured champagne, toasting to your beauty while you waited for him to sip first.

“Are you nervous,” the red head asked, the hint of laughter in his tone. “Don’t worry, princess, you can relax here. I made sure we’d have plenty of privacy.”

“Yeah,” Yonji called while he flew down into the tower of roses. “No one’s getting in here without catching some thorns.”

“We finished the rounds,” Niji reported. He stayed floating toward the top, lazily bouncing something in his hand. “This is the only snail left in a mile radius. Now you two can have some alone time.

“DON’T HURT IT! Please… don’t…”

Niji paused with his arm pulled back, stopping before throwing the transponder snail, cocking his head as he looked down at you.

“Don’t be so cruel, brother,” Ichiji purred beside you.

Breathe. Just breathe.

“Please, don’t hurt it,” you tried to keep your voice from shaking. It was already hoarse from that scream. “I… like snails.”

“So sweet,” Yonji swooned. He flew close, with Niji and the poor snail following behind him. “You should see our— “

“It’s my turn, brothers,” the eldest prince reminded them.

Yonji kissed your cheek before he flew away, but Niji grabbed your wrist. He placed the snail in the center of your palm before tracing his fingers down the side of your face.

“Such a pretty princess,” he hummed, “I’ll make sure this thing is safe for you. We can even let some watch our date if you— “

“This is my date, Niji.”

“Right. Have fun, you two.”

Thankfully, the blue-haired brother grabbed the snail before he flew away, but another set of eyes stayed glued to your skin.

“Sorry about that, beautiful. Let’s eat, I wanna know about all the other sweet things you like.”

Still cheesy. Still cocky.

Yet somehow his guiding hand on you lower back, and his hungry eyes reminded you of another sort of numb.

Nothing matters, so I might as well enjoy this.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

“Feel good, star,” Crocodile’s little clown mumbled in his sleep, the stench of liquor on Buggy’s breath rivaling his own.

“Hey,” he started, wanting to carry Buggy to bed instead of leaving him alone on that green couch. “Come on— “

“Just feel good, baby,” his clown whined softly, the sadness in his voice tearing at the scarred man even more tonight.

“Shh, Buggy. It’s gonna be okay.”

He hoped he wasn’t lying.

“I won’t tell, star. I know it was a— What the fuck?”

“It’s just me, little clown. Let’s go to bed,” he offered his hand. Buggy shook himself but followed him down the empty corridor to that empty bed. “Bad dreams again?”

“No— I mean, just the same bullshit,” Buggy coughed while his fingers tapped along his thigh. “Ha, I really thought the booze would help… What about you?”

Crocodile pulled the man close, and kissed that tangled, blue hair as he closed his eyes against this shitty world.

“We’re gonna get her back,” he vowed ignoring the scent of lies in the air. There had never been room for trust in this world, but Crocodile realized he didn’t care if his little lovers were lying to him. He just needed them back.

He needed to make a better world for them.

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: "I've still been disappearing from the world," is how I started my last author's note from Chapter 34. So much has changed in my life.

Personal Vent below! Mostly vague, but trigger warning for toxic, demanding work environments, and their affect on physical and mental health. Mention of bipolar and adhd.

PLEASE DON'T READ THIS unless you really want to, and have the space for it! I would rather you scroll past than to take on any of my stress.

I am okay, and I want Numbers Game to be a place for us to rest and enjoy some fictional chaos instead. This will be the last time I'll discuss this on a Numbers Game post, but I felt I had to share how much I've wanted to be here with y'all. Any future updates will be posted separately on my lynna's health updates tag.

I am free from the situation that was wrecking my physical, mental, and financial health for the past five years. That chaos sent me into an episode that landed me on medical leave last year. But that fucked up time is when I started writing, and joined this wonderful community. I wouldn't have made it though the past year without y'all. I was in full on crisis mode, and it had all come to a head over these past few months. Then I got out. I was so fucking excited to tell y'all about the new changes in my life, but I was overwhelmed with everything that I had to do to get out and prepare. Plus, my fucking thumb stopped working because I was typing the first draft of this chapter on my phone since I had no time to sit down and write, and I had to rest it for the new job that seemed perfect for me. I hope that it'll get better soon, but I seem to have jumped out of the frying pan, and into the fire. I am okay. I am safe. I am just tired as fuck, and needing to set boundaries with a new company that is even more demanding than the last. At least they are actually paying me on time, and it's less physically demanding, (unless you count a lifelong insomniac adjusting to waking up at 6am and getting home at 6pm, five days a week 🥴). The main reason I was excited for this job, besides relieving the crisis shit I was going though, was that it would have a regular schedule; I'd be able to focus on what I really want to do. Sorry it took me so long to catch my breath, but I'm fucking back, y'all. I'm not letting another company drain my soul away. I'm not working off the clock any more.

I've got smut to write 🥰📝🔥

With so much love,

~ Lynna 💜✨

Chapter 36

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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jmdbjk · 10 months ago

Text

This is our show.

SPOILERS...

I am in a feverish covid haze... my first time... its yucky. But I think I'm on the backside of it now.

I needed to throw out my two cents on today's Are You Sure? Episode 4 before I go take another nap (seventh since yesterday)

First: Naked. Jimin strutted out to the pool, got in and was promptly warned by JK to cool it, the pool has a window where everyone can see and they both glance at the staff who are off camera... I'm not making this up.

NAKED. NAKED. NAKED.

Staff who bought those swim trunks probably short-circuited when they thought we'd be seeing wayyyyyy more of Jimin-ssi than intended.

MORE NAKED...

My mild ataxophobia was triggered when I saw the entrance of the cafe that's been famous since last Chuseok. I know it has its "charms" and the space probably serves several purposes as I see a sewing machine back there, its possible the owner lives there too. But the clutter made my brain glitch:

More naked...also for you pit hair enthusiasts:

A minor dramatic subplot for this episode: RIP Drone Camera:

Jungkook recording more of the memories that will carry them through this time of military service:

And Jimin right there with him while he does it...

And this laughing, giggling... so carefree... it will put smiles on their faces whenever they look at these pics and videos on their phones.

We unlocked a new subunit name:

Other thoughts: this episode returned to a more laid-back vibe. Laid back for them. Not for us. The naked has all of us ogling, pausing, rewinding, comparing what mother nature gave them, nipple size, basically going crazy. Oh? That's just me? Okay. Never mind.

Jimin was feeling good and fully engaged and it showed.

It picks up with them leaving the wall climbing/kart racing place and they drive to an omakase restaurant. It is a style of Japanese restaurant where the chef chooses what you will eat.

Tae understood that his presence really wasn't part of the concept of what Jimin and Jungkook were doing with this project and he did seem to respect that a little bit more as time went on.

Jimin can definitely handle Tae, he set him straight a few times in this episode, just like he did in the last one.

Jimin and Jungkook really do sleep together. There was no reason for them to share a bed for as long as they did in this episode, there was another completely fine empty bed in the room. They made jokes about hitting each other in their sleep, which correlates with their banter during JK's naked-in-bed live after the Connecticut trip.

Anyway, its time for another nap for me. Carry on. Try not to break the pause/rewind buttons on your keyboard...

#jimin #jungkook #jikook #kookmin #jimkook #jungji #minkook #are you sure?#we are sure!#JK can put away some food

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wordsarelife · 9 months ago

Text

⛧༺ NO BODY, NO CRIME ༻⛧

EPISODE 03: i ain't letting up, until the day i die

pairing: theo nott x potter!reader

summary: you find out more about the nocturne society, chemistry between theo and you grows, while other problems arise.

warnings: extremely big trigger warning for the whole series, in this chapter: mentions of murder, illegal activities

note: welcome back to the third episode of nbnc! i’m so excited to have you all back and to hear your opinions on this weeks episode!!

you reacted first. before the door flew open, you had reached for theo’s arm, dragging him into the wardrobe behind you. you were standing pressed close to each other and listened to the voices coming into the office.

you sighed internally when dumbledore’s calm voice reached your ears. he was talking to snape, who muttered uninterested replies, whenever dumbledore asked him something.

you and theo stayed in the wardrobe. you were glad that it wasn’t the killer, who had come back to get rid of whatever proof he had left behind, but that also meant that the teachers were in the posession of your best clue now.

at least you had been able to have a look at it before snape and dumbledore had entered the office. they were quicker than theo and you, just overlooking everything before they left, locking the door behind them.

theo and you started breathing normal again.

“that was close” theo muttered, pressing a hand to his chest. you nodded, not able to form coherent sentences.

“they took the wine” you finally said.

“at least we saw it before they did” theo nudged your arm, trying to lighten the mood.

“you're right”, you sighed, before you smiled again “we know the murder weapon now, that's pretty good”

“the killer has to have some knowledge of poison to have pulled this off” theo concluded. “i mean getting a teacher to drink that… impressive”

“yeah, right” you nodded, deep in thought.

“now let's leave before someone else gets here or they decide to come back” theo nodded to the door. you followed behind him, but your eyes caught on an envelope peeking out from beneath the stack of papers on professor burbage's desk. you were about to look away, but something familiar tugged at your attention.

it was the way the "t" was written on the envelope, sharp yet elegant, almost calligraphic—the same way someone you knew always wrote their name. the memory flashed in your mind.

“let me,” theo had said, gently taking the parchment from your hands. “you wrote everything else, your hand must be sore.”

you watched as he carefully wrote both your name and his, the sweeping lines of the "t" so distinct it looked like art.

“if i had known your handwriting was this pretty, i’d have made you write the entire project,” you’d joked, grinning.

now, the realization hit you like a cold gust of wind. you knew this handwriting. you knew exactly who had written that letter. you used the time you had while theo already up to the door, testing the handle, and slipped the envelope into your pocket. you would ask him about that later. maybe it was nothing important.

“can you open it again?” theo smirked, turning around at you, while you quickly distanced yourself from the desk.

he quirked a brow at your weird behaviour, but didn’t question it as he watched you bend down in front of the keyhole and pick the lock.

you walked down the stairs, through the classroom and slipped silently into the dark corridor, heart pounding but steps measured. theo followed closely behind, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching how you moved quickly, quietly—like you’d done this a thousand times.

when you reached the end of the hall, far enough away from the office, so no one would suspect anything, theo exhaled softly, clearly impressed. “you’re quiet for someone who’s always in the thick of things” he muttered, a smirk playing on his lips. “like a little sparrow, flitting through danger.”

you raised an eyebrow. “sparrow?”

he shrugged. “small, quick, and always finding a way out. suits you”

you smiled at the nickname before you nodded. “yeah, i guess”

“you look worried” theo searched your face for answers, he was used to you laughing at the things he said.

“it’s just— that was really close” you said softly, before you stopped in the middle of the corridor, a heavy sigh escaping your lips.

theo waited for you to continue, but you didn’t. “it’s something else, isn’t it?” he asked softly, the worry on his face almost matching yours.

“i just don’t know why someone would do that to her” you finally admitted. “this whole day i have been focusing on finding out what happened. so much even, that i forgot that an actual person died, someone i knew and liked. professor burbage was a great woman, she didn’t deserve what happened to her”

“you don’t know that”

“what? theo, she was a human being—“

“all i’m saying is that you didn’t really know her” he interrupted. “you knew the person she wanted you to see and after all we found out today, she wasn’t who you thought. i mean if she was really involved in that club..” he let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, not bothering to finish it as you stared at him in disbelief.

“do you really think that?” you whispered. tears spilt from your eyes at the realization that you were the only one of you two, who was actually sad about professor burbage’s death.

“no, i don’t know what i think, okay?” he muttered, feeling bad as he saw the effect his words had on you. he took your hand in his. “don’t worry, we will find out who did it” he promised, brushing a hand through your hair.

as you looked up at him, his blue eyes glistening back, you understood how much his promise meant to you. you trusted him, more than you probably should. but spending time with theo felt like spending time with someone you had known for all your life. maybe that was because he felt like a mirror of your soul.

both of you were the black sheep of your respective friend groups, never quite fitting in, yet never feeling different enough to leave. you both wore the same mask: tough, independent, and unbothered. but underneath, there was something raw, something lonely.

there were moments—like now—where you felt your walls crumble around him, just as his seemed to crack before your eyes. you recognized the same unspoken sadness and shared isolation that neither of you ever voiced aloud. it was this unspoken bond, that drew you to him more than anything else.

“okay” you nodded, believing him.

theo smiled at that. “now come on, let us find mattheo”

the way through the castle took way shorter than you remembered, maybe because theo didn’t let go of your hand for the whole way. the temperature dropped quickly when you walked down the stairs to the dungeon.

mattheo was still leaning against the wall of the corridor, green light illuminating his face. his lips were swollen, puffy and red and he looked like he had just smoked something, head hanging back against the wall.

“riddle” you called, waking him from his slumber.

“potter” mattheo greeted, eyes snapping open quickly as he heard your soft voice speak his name. he was no fan of your brother, but he had to admit that there had always been something about you that intrigued him. “made it official, huh?” his brow lifted as his gaze dropped to your hand, still intertwined with theo’s. you both quickly let go, putting a careful distance between yourselves.

“we still need to ask you something” theo finally announced after half a minute of silence had passed.

“i remember that, yeah” mattheo nodded. “i will help you with whatever, as soon as i get a kiss from potter over here” he puckered his lips.

your eyes narrowed in disbelief as you uncrossed your arms, stepping forward. you opened your mouth, but before you could say something, theo had stepped in front of you protectively.

“not happening” he muttered, voice cold and sharper than you had ever heard him talk before. “and if you don’t stop playing, i will make sure you will never even look in her direction again”

mattheo huffed. “who’s friend are you, nott?” he asked, rolling his eyes, before he sighed. “fine, i’ll help, but you owe me one” he pointed a finger in theo’s direction. “empty room whenever i need it”

“sure” theo shrugged, relaxing and making room for you to speak to mattheo.

“do you know anything about the nocturne society?”

mattheo’s eyes grew dark. “how do you know about that?” he asked, stepping forward threatingly.

theo interjected, before mattheo could come close to you. “professor burbage had that in her hand” he took out the rune and held it in mattheo’s direction, who studied it in deep concentration.

“i have never seen this before” he finally said. even you could tell that was a lie.

“please, mattheo” you pleaded and he looked surprised at the mention of his first name. “we just want to find out what happened. nothing will happen to the society, but someone who is a member might be the killer”

mattheo’s gaze grew soft as his eyes fell on you. you had never thought that mattheo riddle of all people would look at you like that. “there’s a party. every wednesday night. that’s where you’ll find your answers”

“a party?” theo drawled unbelieving. “is this a trap, mattheo?”

“no” mattheo sighed and his voice sounded honest. “the society has been dangerous before it got forbidden, but it’s nothing like that now. it’s just for fun. go to the party and see for yourself. the society has nothing to do with what happened.” he paused, before he added. “but a few members have mentioned burbage and an old dark magical object they were trying to steal from her, maybe that’s what you’re searching for”

“not dangerous, huh?” theo huffed in disbelief and you could hear the anger bubbling in his voice. “we talked about this, mattheo” he muttered, trying to be quiet enough for you to not understand, but failing in the process. “there’s already enough trouble surrounding your name, don’t make it worse”

“it’s not like that, theodore” mattheo replied sharply.

“okay” you interrupted the staring between the boys. “when does this party begin? and where is it?”

mattheo threw one last look at theo, before he took out a piece of paper and pushed it into you hand, not missing the way theo grabbed your arm in protection. “i won’t cut her hand off, nott” mattheo muttered with a roll of his eyes. “quit the ridiculous behaviour”

“sounds rich coming from you” theo replied, but still dropped his hand.

“just open it at nine o’clock tomorrow night and it will guide you” mattheo told you. “make sure to wear the right attire. it’s a masquerade ball”

“thank you” you smiled, touching mattheo’s arm in a friendly manner, before you turned to leave. you walked up a few steps, until you stopped next to a portrait, waiting for theo, who was still talking to mattheo. you felt like it was the right thing to give them some room.

theo waited until you were out of earshot, his expression hardening as he turned back to mattheo. “if this is a trap and anything happens to her, riddle, i swear—”

“relax, nott” mattheo interrupted, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “i’m not your enemy here. you should be more worried about who’s actually behind all of this. and trust me, it’s not me.”

theo’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing in warning. “it better not be. she’s trusting you, and if you screw this up—”

tattheo raised his hands defensively, chuckling darkly. “i get it. you’re protective. but maybe you should tell her the truth, loverboy, instead of trying to scare me off. we both know that you weren’t at the astronomy tower out of pure coincidence”

theo’s fists clenched, but he said nothing. instead, he turned away abruptly, leaving mattheo standing there, still smirking as if he had won something.

as theo caught up with you, he saw you waiting a few steps ahead, your eyes scanning the corridor, lost in thought. he walked beside you, shoulders tense. “you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now that mattheo was out of sight.

you nodded, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “yeah. i just… didn’t expect him to be that helpful. i thought it’d take more convincing.”

“me too” theo muttered, glancing back briefly before looking at you again. “we just have to be careful. that party... i don’t trust any of them.”

“we have each other” you smiled softly, “so i’m not scared”

theo grinned at you, a soft blush flushing his features. “me neither” he took a look at the clock that adorned his waiste, before he sighed. “i better walk you back to your common room, it’s getting late and we need to be well rested if we want to catch a killer”

“high standards” you laughed, before you nodded. “sounds like a plan”

it was silent as you walked through the corridors in the direction of the gryffindor common room, before theo finally broke the silence.

“can i ask you something?” he said softly. “not about all of this, but.. something about you?”

“of course” you nodded, intrigued to hear what he wanted to know.

“how do you do all that? stick up to what people expect from you? fill the role of the perfect sister of the chosen one? it sounds stressful”

“it is” you shrugged. “but it’s always been like that, so i got used to it i guess. i’ve been harry’s sister all my life and even before hogwarts people had expectations of how i had to be. the strategy is to just be what they want you to be. it saves you a lot of headaches”

“but why? why don’t they just get used to who you really are?”

“well, it’s always been easier that way” you shrugged. “and i guess no one was ever interested in that to be honest”

theo turned his head to look at you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “i am” he said, his voice low but filled with so much sincerity that it almost overwhelmed you.

both of you stopped walking, turning to look at each other instead.

theo’s blue eyes seemed to pierce right through you, their sincerity hitting you harder than you’d expected. there was no teasing in his tone, just theo—raw and honest.

your breath hitched in your throat, your heart doing backflips at his words. you couldn’t help but smile, warmth spreading through your chest like wildfire. for a moment, it was as if the world had gone quiet, leaving just the two of you standing there, connected by something unspoken but powerful.

“theo...” you whispered, not knowing what else to say, but somehow feeling like he already understood.

the tension between you crackled in the air, electric and intoxicating. you could feel the heat radiating from theo as he drew closer, his eyes flickering between yours. the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. you could see it in his gaze—a mix of longing and uncertainty—and you knew you were close to something beautiful.

just as you leaned in, your breath mingling with his, the faint sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor, shattering the intimacy of the moment.

“do you hear that?” theo murmured, suddenly alert, his brow furrowing as he glanced down the hallway.

you quickly pulled back, heart racing from both the near kiss and the unexpected interruption. the footsteps grew louder, the rhythmic sound drawing closer with every passing second.

your heart beat even faster, as you felt uneasy about someone coming. it was close to nighttime. and usually, no one who had good intentions would be running around then. your eyes fell onto the broom closet behind theo’s back. “there, go!” you quickly muttered, pushing him to the door.

you weren’t sure who was approaching or if they even posed a threat to you, but you were rather safe than sorry.

you closed the door, just as the footsteps grew so loud that the person had to be close.

the closet was small, too small even for one person. the cramped space was dark and filled with the faint scent of wood polish and broom bristles. your chest pressed against theo’s as your back touched the wood of the door. you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his breathing steady despite the tension in the air.

“this is the second time in a day we’re hiding in a closet” theo said lowly, his voice nothing more than a rasp. your head felt empty as a goosebumps wandered over your body and you forgot all about the possible danger in front of the door.

your breath hitched as you took in the way his gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips, a silent question hanging in the air. the tension built between you, electric and undeniable, drawing you closer together. it was as if an invisible force compelled you to close the gap, and you leaned in instinctively, the weight of everything else falling away.

you nodded softly and in one fluid motion, theo tilted his head slightly, and you felt the soft brush of his lips against yours. it was hesitant at first, a gentle exploration that quickly deepened as you both melted into the kiss. his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, while yours curled around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.

you titled your head, allowing him to come closer, as you softly gripped his hair. you felt the beat of his heart as the kiss deepened, each movement becoming more urgent, as if your bodies were trying to communicate what your hearts had been saying all along. the broom closet felt like it was shrinking around you, yet somehow, the confined space made the moment even more intimate.

his lips were soft and warm, igniting a fire within you that spread through your veins. the kiss was intoxicating, like tasting something you had longed for without even realizing it. the world outside faded completely; the footsteps, the threat of discovery, all vanished in the heat of this shared moment.

you broke the kiss softly, leaning your forehead against his chest, not ready to face his gaze.

“look at me, sparrow” theo whispered. you could hear from his voice that he was just as breathless as you.

you looked up to meet his eyes, your cheeks crimson red as you stared at his swollen lips and remembered that you were the reason for it.

“what was that?” he asked, his usual smirk threading through his words, but his gaze was serious. “did you mean it?”

your heart raced as you processed the question. “mean what?” you replied, though you knew exactly what he was getting at.

his fingers brushed your cheek, lingering just above your skin. “this,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “us. whatever this is. did you really want to kiss me, or was it just the moment?”

“i wanted to” you admitted, feeling a rush of shame. “i didn’t know it would feel like that, though. i thought i’d be more scared”

theo chuckled softly, the sound warm and inviting. “you never have to be scared of me.” he said “probably everyone in this school would hate us being together, but there’s something about you, something that makes me want to take that risk” his sincerity wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“really?” you asked, searching his eyes for the truth. “you want to take a risk for me?”

“yeah” he replied, his thumb grazing your jawline as he held your gaze. “you’re more than what you show everyone else. i see that. and i want to know everything about you.”

the way he looked at you made your heart flutter. “okay” you breathed.

the rest of the way to the gryffindor common room felt like walking on clouds. theo kept holding your hand, this time intentionally, after you had walked out of the closet, making sure that whoever had been in the corridor was gone.

you said goodnight to theo, before you said the password and watched the portrait open. you made theo promise to be careful on the way back, before you stepped inside.

it took about thirty seconds for you to remember the letter you had taken from professor burbage’s office. the one with theo’s handwriting, you had planned to ask him about.

he was already gone when you opened the door to the corridor, so you decided to speak to him tomorrow. you got ready for bed, changing into your pyjama and brushing your teeth.

hermione was already fast asleep when you slipped into your bed. you tried shutting your eyes, but there was no way you were going to sleep anytime soon. the events of the day kept your mind occupied as you stared into the air.

you lightly illuminated the room with the light of your wand, before you grabbed theo’s letter from your bedside table.

you longed to be close to him again and maybe, if you just read a few lines of the letter, you could finally go to sleep without thinking over it again and again. you opened the envelope, that has definitely been read before, your eyes flying over the written words on the paper.

the smile on your face died fast, as you sat up, to grip the letter with both hands.

‘your presence here is unwelcome, and you are playing a foolish game that will have consequences.’ you read. you could almost hear how theo spit these words at your beloved teacher— the one he didn’t even feel sorry for getting murdered. ‘this evening, i expect you to be at the entrance of the astronomy tower.’

your breath hitched. the astronomy tower. burbage had died right beneath it.

you couldn’t believe what you were reading. maybe it was just a coincidence, a bad, bad coincidence. surely, you couldn’t have been mistaken about him. theo, with his quiet demeanor and his moments of kindness, couldn’t have been capable of something like this. he couldn’t.

you clung to that hope, until your eyes fell on the last line.

‘make no mistake, burbage. make the right choice before it’s too late. consider this your final warning’

your heart dropped. you had been so wrong about him. the words stared back at you, cold and unforgiving. the weight of their meaning crushed the air from your lungs.

maybe, you thought, theo had killed professor burbage.

go to the next part

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icrypop · 5 months ago

Text

Misunderstood By Society (3)

Asylum Patient! König x GN! Doctor! Reader

Warnings⚠️: Posted here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The quiet hum of my apartment felt almost unnatural after the weight of the asylum. The dim glow of my desk lamp cast long shadows as I flipped through König’s file, the pages slightly worn from being handled so many times.

I had read through his basics already—his history of violence, his refusal to remove his hood, his resistance to treatment—but it wasn’t until I dug deeper into his medication list that my brows furrowed.

Several of his prescriptions made sense—antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, anti-anxiety medications—but a few names stood out.

{High doses of sedatives. Heavy tranquilizers.}

I muttered to myself, running a finger down the list. “Were they trying to sedate him or tranquilize him?”

I had seen this before. In facilities like Winchester, when a patient became too “difficult,” the solution was often chemical restraint rather than actual treatment. But König wasn’t an animal to be put down when he got too aggressive—he was a man. A man with a fractured mind, one that had been pushed to the point of breaking.

Sighing, I leaned back in my chair and scrubbed a hand down my face. I’d figure that out later. For now, I needed to prepare.

I got up, threw a microwave dinner into the machine, and let it spin while I grabbed my notebook. König’s file had listed his three biggest diagnoses—**PTSD, Severe Anxiety, and Bipolar Disorder.** None of them were uncommon for someone with a history like his, but combined with past military experience and hallucinations? It was a volatile mix.

I started writing.

PTSD:

- Triggers can vary (sounds, environments, smells).

- Hypervigilance—may react aggressively if startled.

- May experience flashbacks—important to ground them in the present.

- Do not corner or restrain without necessity—could escalate panic.

Severe Anxiety:

- Constant state of heightened awareness.

- Likely has difficulty trusting others—especially in a place like this.

- Resistance to medication may stem from paranoia.

- Routines might help stabilize his mood.

Bipolar Disorder:

- Mood swings—manic episodes vs. depressive episodes.

- Manic: Impulsive behavior, possible aggression.

- Depressive: Withdrawal, possible suicidal ideation.

- Medication regulation is critical.

I tapped the pen against my notepad, thinking. König wasn’t just violent—he was reactive. His entire life, he had been treated as a monster, as something to be subdued rather than understood. It wasn’t surprising that he lashed out.

The mircowave beeped, but I barely noticed it, my mind too focused on the task ahead. If I was going to handle this right, I needed to know what not to do.

What NOT to do around König:

- Sudden movements or loud noises—could trigger defensive aggression.

- Forced eye contact—may make him feel challenged or threatened.

- Overuse of restraints—will increase distrust and worsen anxiety.

- Talking down to him—he’s not *stupid*, and treating him like a child will only piss him off.

- Forcing medication—there has to be a reason he refuses it. Find out why.

I exhaled, closing the notebook.

Tomorrow was going to be my first session with König. I wasn’t walking into this blind.

I was going to be prepared.

————————————————————————

The asylum always felt colder in the mornings. Maybe it was just the old building settling, or maybe it was something else—something deeper. Either way, I felt it in my bones as I made my way to the lockers, stopping when I saw Miss. Nessi leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

"Morning," she greeted, offering me a small but knowing smile.

"Morning," I replied, twisting open my locker and grabbing my things. "Anything I should know before I see him?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "Jacobs is already in there."

I paused, my fingers gripping the edge of my clipboard a little tighter. "Of course he is."

"Be careful," Nessi murmured, lowering her voice. "You ever notice how some of the staff here act like they enjoy this place a little too much?" I glanced at her, noting the concern in her eyes. She was right. There were people here who weren’t just desensitized to the work—they thrived in it. Jacobs was one of them.

I gave her a nod, silently assuring her I’d be fine before heading to König’s restricted wing.

The moment I stepped inside, I knew something was wrong.

König was restrained, held down by two guards, his entire body tensed like a coiled spring. His breathing was sharp and uneven, chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. Jacobs stood in front of him, holding a small paper cup filled with pills.

"You gonna take 'em, or are we gonna have to *help* you again?" Jacobs taunted, his voice laced with amusement. "Come on, big guy. Open up."

König didn’t move. His hood obscured most of his face, but even from here, I could feel the intensity of his glare.

I flipped through my notebook, skimming my own notes. "Intimidation tactics don’t work," I said aloud, not bothering to hide my disapproval. "Neither does *antagonizing* the patient, but I guess that’s too much to ask."

Jacobs turned, his cocky smirk faltering slightly. "Oh, look, the new doc finally showed up." I didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, I met his gaze with a calm but firm stare. "Leave."

Jacobs scoffed. "Excuse me?"

"You’re excused," I replied evenly. "I’ll be handling his medication today." Jacobs’ jaw tightened. "You’re new. You don’t know how things work around here." I smiled, sharp and polite. "I know enough to recognize unprofessional behavior when I see it. Now, leave."

For a moment, I thought he’d argue, but something in my expression must have told him I wasn’t budging. He rolled his eyes and stepped back, shoving the cup into my hands before walking off with an irritated huff. I turned to the guards. "Out."

One of them hesitated. "Doctor, we’re required to—"

"—Stay out." My voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "You’re not helping."

They exchanged looks but, eventually, backed away. The heavy doors clicked shut behind them, leaving just me and König in the room.

I finally exhaled, looking up at him. His breathing was still uneven, but now that Jacobs and the guards were gone, it wasn’t as ragged. His shoulders remained tense, but his fists had loosened slightly.

I took a slow, deliberate step forward. "They always treat you like that?"

Silence.

I held up the cup of pills. "I read your file. I know you don’t like taking these. I’m not going to force you. But if we’re going to work together, I need to understand *why* you refuse them." König didn’t speak, but he was listening. That was a start.

I placed the cup on the small table beside us, keeping my movements slow and non-threatening. "I’ll leave these here. Your choice. No threats. No force." I took a step back, giving him space.

"Can I take these off?" I gestured to the restraints. His fingers curled slightly, muscles twitching, but he gave a small nod. Carefully, I reached for the straps, undoing them one by one.

As the last restraint fell away, König didn’t move. He just *watched* me. For the first time since I walked in, I met his gaze, though his face remained shadowed beneath his hood.

"I’m Dr. Y/N," I said softly. "And I'll be taking care of you."

#x reader #my fic #requests open #konig cod #konig x reader #cod konig #konig x you #konig mw2 #konig call of duty

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bones4thecats · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, 😊 anon here. Your amazing digital circus writing was amazing - it had me smiling the whole day! I got excited when I saw you took requests for cartoon villains from some shows I like, so I figured I'd send in a request for a few of them 😊

Could I request His Imperial Majesty (HIM), Ice King, and Doofenshmirtz who have a platonic mentor-student relationship with the reader, and how they handle having a protégé who is quite skilled but also very nervous or anxious? Like, they struggle to do things in the moment or under pressure (if that makes sense)

I hope you have a nice day 👍

Protégé! Reader Having Atychiphobia

Characters: HIM, Ice King, and Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz Requester: 😊Anon A/N: This is full of so much fluff and angst that it's making my head spin! Also, just noting the Reader is said to have minor Atychiphobia, which has a definition below! Have fun reading this btw! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Adventure Time S3 Eps19-20, and Phineas and Ferb's numerous episodes (I'm to lazy to name every single on with his backstory mentioned) finally, warnings for mentions of failure, disappointment, accidental harm, mental - physical - child abuse, and attempted child murder ⚠️ ~ Atychiphobia; "Atychiphobia is an intense fear of failure. It comes from the Greek word 'atyches,' meaning 'unfortunate.' People with atychiphobia may avoid any situation where they see a potential for failure, such as an exam or job interview." ~ My.ClevelandClinic.org

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»—————————-　 His Infernal Majesty 　—————————-««

❤️ Being born in the Underworld to demonic parents was hard, but it got worse when they showed their true sides and attempted to kill you early on in your life

❤️ Thankfully, your future adopted mentor, His Infernal Majesty, or HIM, had found out about the failed attempt and allowed the multiple malevolent and blood-thirsty members of the lands to have their fun with them (essentially ridding all dimensions of them)

❤️ Over the course of a couple days, HIM was trying to find another space you could go. He wasn't a fan of happiness, yet you were seemingly full of it whenever he was around. From giving his legs hugs to even gifting him small drawings or really any kind of creation you made out of your stone-making ability

❤️ HIM began to actually enjoy having you around. You showed a potential like no other demon or monster he had ever seen, well, other than himself of course

❤️ Over the passing years and eventual eon, HIM really leaned into acting like a father to you. Your powers had grown to a length that many feared you the same as they did the King of Darkness

❤️ Every single time he asked you to carry something out, you did so successfully, and he saw no sign of you being anxious or in any kind of denial about your abilities. You were gifted a kind of 'magic' that allowed you to just make people into stone and send them to be dust like nothing. You were powerful, but you were also fragile

"Y/N? Ah, there you are, youngling! How are you on this majestically horrible day?"

❤️ Looking up from your desk, you used your acting skills to try getting your teacher to leave you alone so you could finish your breakdown. Just a few days ago he had assigned you a task of getting some of Townsville's villains on your side, but you seemingly couldn't get them to listen for more than five minutes

"I'm fine, my Lord."

"Your aura is off, kiddo. I'm no fool. Now, tell me what is going on. Or else I may have to resort to not-so-kind methods."

❤️ You knew he was bluffing and just wanted you to speak your mind, but in your fear and depressed-stricken state, you believed him to be fully honest. So, you lifted your head fully and looked at him, making him startled at seeing how red your eyes had become. They were comparable to his very own skin!

❤️ He got down from the counter-top he was sitting on and walked towards you before opening his claw-hands and using one end to lift your chin to stare at him in the eyes

"Who did this."

"The assignment... it was just so hard! The damn mortals won't listen to any of the ideas you gave me on this accursed paper! They just- they won't let their egos fall for one lick of a second!"

❤️ HIM sighed and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, allowing you some time to rest. He understood what was wrong now. Every one of your plans when handling others to manipulate were successful, but this time you were failing. You feared disappointing him, and while he would normally push his worker aside and make them fear it even more, you mattered to him

"How about this; I take you outside and give you something else to do to take your mind away from this task. I'll just assign it to somebody else. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah.. thanks, Dad."

"...No problem, Rockstar."

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»————————————-　 Ice King 　————————————-««

In this, the reader is based off changelings from MLP:FiM. Here are two pieces of fanart I went off from: child-form / older-form

🧊 Long ago, you were once a young child, being held by your parents in the cozy cabin of theirs. Well, that was before they noticed differences in you that wasn't obvious before. From your extremely pointy ears to having fairly large eyes with a prominent blue shade and not the normal (e/c), they grew fearful and asked a species expert what was wrong

🧊 He had taken one look into your eyes and screamed for you to be taken away, you were a changeling. A creature that would become anything for the gain of love and affection to feed themselves and their empty-hearts

🧊 You were a mere 5-year-old, now living on your own in the freezing forest and mountain-tops ruled by the feared Ice King. Over the next couple months, you traveled randomly, trying to find something, someone, who would accept you

🧊 If you were left like nothing, it was obvious your real home had no use for you. After all, abandoning such a young hunter is fruitless

🧊 As you sat down next to a makeshift camp, you heard the sounds of small footprints pushing snow down. The footsteps began to get closer, making you look up in fear as you bared your fangs and hissed, your long tongue flailing about in an attempt to scare the being off

🧊 You then noticed a taller male looking down at you with some penguins around him, he looked at you confusingly before asking who you were

"Y/N..."

"Well Y/N. Why are you out here in the cold, by what I understand, humans can't survive fully out here."

🧊 It took a little while, and by that I mean by Guntar, or maybe one of his clones? It was hard to keep track sometimes. He grabbed your hand and rubbed his face on it, before turning around and looking at the mystery man with hope in his big eyes. Ice King sighed and motioned for you to follow them home

🧊 Over the following hundred years, you grew into a well-liked changeling. Though many had no clue of your true species. All it took for others to really accept you was the friendship you made with Princess Bubblegum

🧊 When you finally began to share the feeling of love with somebody, that being the Queen who abandoned you, you went from the colors of the night to having light green skin and many parts of you representing the insects you loved messing with at home

🧊 Finn and Jack understood why you were fearful to return home, with with their assurance, you gave them all one last hug before flying away to confront your adoptive father

🧊 Ice King was shocked to hear his name being called out by you, normally you were fairly mute and would just tug on his arm to get his attention

"Y/N...? Are you alri-"

🧊 Seeing a taller and far more colorful changeling there made Ice King shriek and ready himself with his magic, making you jump and begin to fearfully ramble on what happened

"I'm sorry, Boss! I didn't mean to disappoint you!"

"Disappoint me...? Y/N, what are you going on about?! I took you in hundreds of years ago by my own will... and maybe Guntar #53's as well. But STILL!"

🧊 Looking up from your bowing position, you noticed that Ice King had sat in front of you and was smiling gently. An obvious care was laying in him that he never revealed to anyone else

"You are my child. Maybe not from blood, but you're still my child."

"R-really?"

"Yep! No tricks, swear on my crown!"

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»————————-　 Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz 　————————-««

🔫 When Dr. Doofenshmirtz first met you, you were walking around Danville with your pet banana ball python wrapped around your neck, giving you small flicks of his tongue

🔫 You smiled at him and pat his tiny head lightly, moving around the people walking down the sidewalks. You then groaned when you heard a loud woman's voice, it was your old friend, Maddeline

🔫 Maddeline ran up to you and slightly jumped at seeing your snake, before calming down and asking where you had been for the past five years. You just rolled your eyes and let your snake roll down into your hand, holding the reptile up to her

🔫 She was getting more freaked out as the snake began to slither up to try biting her, making her run away in fear

🔫 You had no interest in speaking of the past five years. All of the failed attempts at pleasing your family members remained grilled into your memories, making you despise any mention of them

🔫 Thankfully, it only took a trip to the nearby grocery store to meet another female, one that seemed to be around 16 or so years old. She introduced herself as Vanessa Doofenshmirtz, making you chuckle, such an odd last name

🔫 A few weeks later, you and Vanessa began to hang out, seeing one another around so often had to be a sin for friendship. One day, the sound of a slightly boisterous and scratchy male's voice made you both look up, and seeing how Vanessa reacted, you only assumed it was her father. You were not-surprisingly correct

"Oh! Who's this little one, Vanessa?"

"This is Y/N, I met them a few weeks ago at the store a couple blocks down."

"Interesting. I'm Heinz Doofenshmirtz, Vanessa's father. It's nice to meet you, Y/N!"

"It's nice to meet you as well... Mr. Doofenshmirtz."

🔫 Shockingly, as the months passed of you and his daughter hanging out, you began to show a sign of high-intelligence, one that could rival Doof's entirely. One day, one of his -Inators had gone berserk and you ran up and disabled it in a matter of seconds

🔫 He almost immediately offered you a role in his work, specifically with going over his stuff to make sure his math and everything was correct. He didn't need another -Inator to fail again...

🔫 Over time of working with Vanessa's father, you gained a closeness almost similar to a father-child one. He showed you the kinder side of him, the same one he showed his daughter. And the way he praised you for your brilliance made you feel... nice. Like you had a purpose

🔫 Unfortunately for him and you though, one day you had gone over his calculations and gotten it wrong, making his invention crash and burn to nothing. And you panicked like nobody else was around

🔫 Was he going to yell at you? Scream? Scold you on how useless and a waste of space you were? Was he going to hate you...?

"Y/N, are you alright?!"

🔫 Looking up you saw Doofenshmirtz helping you up from the blast's damage. Why wasn't he yelling at you for screwing up so badly? He could've gotten severely hurt!

"Kid? You good?"

"Why... why aren't you yelling at me for screwing up?"

"What do you mean? It was an honest mistake. I've made millions! Besides, it's not like you make them all the time."

"So... you're not going to hit me and call me an idiot?"

"WHAT?! Who would do such a thing?! I may be an evil genius, but that makes zero sense to do!"

🔫 Doofenshmirtz looked into your eyes and noticed they were fogging over with tears. He could understand where you were coming from now. This must've been why you came to Danville, you had a bad family back home. He had one too

🔫 You began to sob as he hugged you, attempting to calm you down to the best of his abilities. And after a few minutes of reassuring words, you stopped crying and fell asleep, making him smile and lay you down in one of the rooms he set up for you and Vanessa whenever you two stayed over

🔫 Smiling as you rested, Doofenshmirtz couldn't help but wonder... just how similar were you two?

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winchesterwild78 · 10 months ago

Text

The Tutor part 2

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Physical Assault-Jeff is back, Fluff, SMUT!

**Trigger Warning: Some of this features Domestic Violence. It’s grabbing an arm, face and slapping.**

A/N: Just a quick idea that popped in my head. A short series, maybe 2 or 3 chapters. I don’t know yet. No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction. Jensen has children in this, but I do not use their real names.

Reader is a teacher and is asked to tutor Jensen’s child. Things develop between Jensen and the reader. I do not condone cheating, again, this is a work of fiction.

This chapter got a little long. Sorry not sorry. 😀 Please overlook any errors. I wrote this fast and edited it fast.

Minors DNI 18+

Weeks had passed since the shared kiss between you and Jensen. He was true to his word and nothing was awkward and he didn’t pursue another kiss. The two of you would share quick glances and an occasional ‘accidental touch’.

Mrs. Ackles had come home and you finally met her. She was kind but you noticed the tension between her and Jensen. It broke your heart. She was home for a few days before she left again. The kids were upset and Jensen seemed angry.

The holidays were approaching and you weren’t sure what your tutoring schedule would look like so you needed to talk to Jensen. After the kids were done for the afternoon and playing outside, you went to find Jensen.

You heard him in his office, and as you approached the door you realized he was on the phone. As you started to walk away you heard his voice filled with anger and hurt. You froze. “No! I want you to be home before the holidays, if not for me how about for our children? You’ve barely been home in months. It’s like you’re trying to stay away.” There was silence. As you started to walk away you heard him huff in frustration, “Fine, you do what you need to do. I’ll figure it out. I’ll see if my mom can come watch them so I can go do my job. You know the one that pays for this lifestyle you’ve become accustomed to.”

You walked back into the living room and started to pack up your things to go home. Jensen came down the stairs. He was wearing a t-shirt that hugged his chest, and gray sweatpants. You bit your lips and your thighs clenched together. His hair looked like he had run his fingers through it in frustration.

When Jensen saw you his features softened. “Leaving so soon, Y/N?” “Yeah, we are done and I figured you needed some space. I’m sorry. I overheard some of your conversation. I came to talk to you and heard it.” You put your head down, feeling a bit shameful for listening to his private conversation.

He walked up to you and placed his fingers under your chin, gently lifting up your head. “Hey, it’s okay. I could have closed the door. I’m sorry you had to hear that. So what did you want to talk to me about?” “Oh, um I was wondering what you wanted my schedule to look like with the holidays coming up.”

“Oh, well I guess that’s up to you. If you want to take a holiday break because you’re out of school too, I’m fine with that. I’m flexible.” You nodded and thought for a second. “Do you know when Mrs. Ackles is coming home? I overheard you say something about needing help with the kids, when would that be?

“Yeah, I’m not sure when or if she’s coming home. I have to leave Saturday for a few days to go shoot some episodes for a show I’m working on. I’ll see if my mom is available, so if you’re going to tutor you’ll get to meet her.”

You stepped a little closer to him, “Jensen, I can watch the kids for you if you want me to. I really don’t mind. I start my Winter Break on Friday, so I'll be available.” “Oh I can’t ask you to do that.” You touched his arm, “Jensen, you’re not. I’m offering, and I really don’t mind. I love your kids.”

He touched your arm, “That is incredibly generous of you. If you’re sure then I insist on paying you for it and you stay in the guest room while you’re here.” You stepped even closer to him. Feeling like a magnet was pulling you to him. “Jensen, you’re not paying me any extra.” He stepped closer, “You have to let me pay you for your time.”

Mere inches from each other now, you looked into his eyes, “No. You’re not paying me. I’m doing this because I want to. So you have a guest house and a guest room?” You asked. “Yes, the guest house is where we have people stay if they are going to be here for a while, the guest room is for shorter stays.”

Jensen’s hand brushed your hair behind your ear. “Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate it.” Your breath hitched at his touch, “You’re welcome Jensen. I promise they will be okay.” He took your hand and pulled you into a hug. Your face buried in his chest, taking in his cologne. Your heart racing and the urge to kiss him became overwhelming.

You looked up at him and his green eyes met your y/e/c eyes. His thumb brushed your cheek and he leaned down. Stopping before touching your lips. You closed your eyes, anticipating the kiss, but it didn’t come. You looked at him and his eyes were a mixture of desire and sadness. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what came over me.” He cleared his throat and released you from his arms.

Your heart ached for his touch and his kiss. “Um, let me show you the guest room.” He walked away and you followed him down the hallway. The guest room was on the first floor and down the hallway opposite the living room.

He opened a door revealing a spacious room with its own private bathroom. “This is where you’ll be staying while you’re here with the kids. Please make yourself at home, extra towels are in the closet in the bathroom.” “Jensen, it’s perfect, thank you. Is it okay if I come on Thursday? That way the kids can get used to me being here and you can be more comfortable with leaving them here with me.”

“I’m completely comfortable with you being here with them. I trust you with them, but yes. Feel free to come on Thursday.” You nodded and thanked him again.

*Thursday*

You: Hey, I’m leaving work now. I’ll be there in about 30 minutes. I already have my stuff.

Jensen: Great! I’m grilling tonight. Hope you’re hungry.

You: Starved. Can I bring anything?

Jensen: Nope, just yourself.

You: Okay, see y’all soon.

As you walked out to your car you saw Jeff leaning against it. He pushed off the car when he saw you. “Hey baby. I’ve missed you.” He tried to hug you but you pulled away. “Aww come on, don’t be like that. I think you’ve had plenty of time to settle down from your tantrum. You need to come home.” “I’m not coming back, Jeff. I don’t want you anymore and I am filing for divorce.” Jeff grabbed your arm hard, “The fuck you are! You can’t leave me. You’re nothing without me. Get in the fucking car, we are going home, NOW!” You pulled away from him and you cried out in pain. His grip was so tight on your arm. “Let me go! I’m not going anywhere with you.” He grabbed you again and pinned you against the car. His hand gripped your chin. The pain shot through your face. Your mind thought about Jensen and how gentle his touch was.

Tears streamed down your face. You brought your knee up and hit him in his groin. He dropped his grip and groaned in pain. “You stupid bitch!” He smacked you across your face, and it felt like your eye was going to pop out of your head. Blood fell from your mouth.

A male co-worker was coming out of the building when he saw Jeff hit you and ran over to help you. Jeff took off and your co-worker called the police. They came and took both of your statements and asked if you wanted to press chargers. You told them yes, so they were going to arrest Jeff. Once he was arrested they were going to issue a protective order too.

Over an hour had passed before you were free to leave. You looked at your phone and saw texts from Jensen.

Jensen: Hey, Y/N. It’s been a while. Hope you’re okay.

Jensen: Not trying to overstep, but I haven’t heard from you or seen you. I’m starting to get a little worried.

Jensen: Okay, it’s been over an hour. I’m really worried. Please let me know you’re okay.

Your heart fluttered and you felt guilty he was worrying about you.

You: Hey, I’m okay. I’m on my way. I’ll explain everything when I get there.

Jensen: Oh thank god you’re okay. I’ll be waiting.

You drove to Jensen’s house and when you pulled in the driveway you looked up and saw him standing at the door. Getting out of the car the first thing he noticed was the mark on your face. He practically leaped off the steps and came up to you. He cupped your face, “Oh my god, what happened? Are you okay?” You sobbed, the dam finally breaking. He pulled you into his arms as you stood there sobbing into his chest. His hand rubbing your back while he consoled you.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” You followed him inside and sat at the kitchen bar. Jensen grabbed the bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “Looks like you could use this.” You nodded gratefully as you took the glass of whiskey to your lips. “I’m here for you, Y/N. Whenever you’re ready to talk.” You nodded and the tears started to flow again.

The kids came running into the room excited to see you. You turned so they couldn’t see you crying, and Jensen ushered them outside. “Guys, go outside and play until dinner is ready. Ms. Y/N and daddy have to have a grown up conversation.” “Okay daddy.” They ran outside.

You looked up at Jensen, “Thank you. I didn’t want them to see me crying.” Jensen took your hand in his and rubbed it. “I understand. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” You began to tell Jensen about what happened, and you saw his jaw tense with anger. “I’m scared. I didn’t think he was capable of that. I have to figure out what to do now. He knows where Y/F/N lives, and I don’t want to put her in danger.”

Jensen’s eyes softened and he walked around the counter taking your hand, “Move into my guest house. The offer is still on the table, and we have great security. He doesn’t know where I live. You would be safe.” You bit your lip, “I’ll think about it. I’ll let you know by the time you return from your trip.” “Okay, come here, let me look at that mark.” You stood up and Jensen turned your face to see the mark Jeff left. His eyes flashed with anger, sadness and something else.

“God, what kind of man hits a woman?” His hand brushed lightly over your face, “You deserve so much better than that, sweetheart.” You touched his hand that was still cupping your face and placed a soft kiss on his palm.

Your eyes met and the distance between you got smaller. Jensen’s lips inches from yours again. Your breath mixes with his. The smell of whiskey and mint hit your nostrils. “Tell me to stop, baby.” “I don’t want you to Jensen. Please, don’t stop.” His lips met yours in a soft passionate kiss.

You moaned into his mouth as his hands ran up your body. Your mind was racing. You knew this was wrong, but it felt so good. His lips and his hands felt so incredible on your body. Jensen softly leaned you against the door so he could lock it. Then he spun you around and led you back towards the bed.

Your calves hit the bed and you fell backwards. You giggled as he fell beside you. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe he’d hit you.” You blushed and kissed his lips.

His hand started to move against your body. You tensed a little. “Sweetheart, we can stop if you want to.” “No, I don’t want to. I just want you to be sure.”

Jensen kissed your lips and leaned back a little bit “I’m 100% sure I want this. I want you.” He pulled his shirt over his head revealing his perfectly toned chest. You licked and bit your lip. Your fingers traced down his chest. Touching each freckle and roaming over the contours of his torso.

You felt your arousal pool between your legs and soak your panties. His arousal was pushing against your thigh.

His hands cupped your breasts as his fingers moved to the hem of your shirt. You nodded and leaned up. He pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your bra covered breasts.

Jensen let out a primal growl as he took in the sight of your body. You tried to cover yourself. “No, baby. Please don’t. You’re gorgeous.”

You leaned forward so he could unhook your bra. As your breasts sprang free his mouth was on them. Sucking and playing with each nipple. You leaned your head back and moaned in pleasure. “Yes, Jensen. Feels so good.”

He smirked as he felt you responding to his touch. Jensen started kissing his way down your body. Taking his time, kissing each curve, mark and committing them to memory.

As he got to the hem of your pants his eyes looked up at you. You nodded. His fingers brushed against your zipper and button, undoing both of them. You lifted your hips helping him remove your pants and panties.

Jensen stood and threw your clothes to the side. He looked at your naked body laying on the bed before him. You were never comfortable with your body and now more than ever you hated every curve, stretch mark, and imperfections. You grabbed the blanket trying to cover yourself.

“Please don’t. I want to see your beautiful body. You’re perfect to me.” You let the blanket fall and tears fell from your eyes. “Oh baby, don’t cry.” “I’m not sad, Jensen. Nobody has ever said that to me. Not even Jeff.”

“Well we already knew he was a fool. This just confirms it.” He kissed you. His hand slipped between your thighs and found your folds. You gasped at the contact. “Mmm so wet for me.” You moved your hips trying to get more contact.

His thumb brushed against your throbbing clit as he slid two thick fingers inside your folds. “Oh Jensen” your breath hitched. He began to move his fingers faster, hooking up and hitting your sweet spot. You moved your hips in tandem with his hand. His thumb rubbing your clit as he finger fucked you.

You were close to your release, “Oh Jensen. I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck!”

Just as you were about to cum his phone rang. “Fuck! Don’t move” He growled as he stood up. You grabbed the blanket and covered yourself.

He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. You laid on the bed thinking about what you two were about to do. His lips and touch were amazing. You wanted more.

You heard Jensen’s voice and could tell he was upset. Figuring the mood was gone, you grabbed your clothes and started to put them back on. A sadness filled your chest, realizing it was his wife on the phone. You wanted him and he wanted you, but he was still married and living with her. Could you really be “the other woman”?

After getting dressed you walked back into the living room. Jensen was leaning against the kitchen counter, still on the phone. “No, I’m still going to work. Y/N is on her holiday break and offered to watch the kids for us. She’s staying in the guest room. Are you going to be home to spend the holidays with your family? Well I hope for the sake of the kids you will be. Fine. Yeah. I guess I’ll see you next week. Bye.”

Jensen met your eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I had to answer it.” You walked over to him, “it’s okay. I understand. She’s your wife and she needed to talk to you. Um, I’m going to grab my stuff. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You walked out to your car and grabbed your bags. Your heart was heavy. You craved his lips and his touch, but you couldn’t break up his marriage. His children were too important to you. Tears pricked your eyes. You knew you had to keep him at arms length for the sake of his children.

Walking back into the house you saw Jensen in the kitchen getting things ready for the grill. He looked up at you and saw the pain in your eyes. His heart clenching in his chest.

You walked to the guest room and started unpacking. You could still smell Jensen’s cologne and his shirt was on the floor. The tears you held back were falling.

A knock on your door had you quickly wiping them away. You cleared your throat “come in” you said softly. “Hey baby, I just needed my shirt.” Your back was to him. You sniffled. Jensen was at your side, “hey, what’s wrong?” You shook your head, “Nothing. I’m okay. I promise.” He cupped your face, his thumb brushing a single tear away,”Please talk to me.”

“I don’t know if I can do this. I want to be with you. I want to continue what we were doing earlier, but I can’t be the reason your marriage ends. I love your kids too much to hurt them like that.”

Jensen saw the pain in your eyes “Y/N, please believe me when I tell you that you’re not nor would you ever be the reason my marriage ends. We’ve been drifting apart for years. I lied to you earlier. She’s not on a girls trip. She’s on a trip with her boyfriend. We are only married for the sake of my career. Since I have the “family man” image. I don’t love her anymore and she doesn’t love me. So believe me when I say I want to be with you.”

“Oh, Jensen. I’m so sorry you’re going through that. I wish there was something I could do to help.” “There is, stay here with us. Be here with the kids and me. They love you so much and it’s been amazing seeing you with them.” “I’ll think about it. I promise.”

He placed a soft kiss on your lips, “that’s all I can ask for.”

Friday evening came faster than you’d expected. After the kids were settled in bed you started to clean up the kitchen and the rest of the house. Jensen was in his office working on some things before he left in the morning. You were going to miss him so much.

After you got everything cleaned you went to your room to change into your comfy sleep clothes. You were wearing an oversized shirt, and shorts. No bra but you had your panties on.

You walked into the living room and scrolled on your phone. You came across an article about Jensen and his newest project. Your heart swelled with pride.

Then there was another article that caught your eye. It was about his wife and how she’d been photographed recently with their good friend. You assumed this was her boyfriend by how cozy they looked. Your heart ached for Jensen.

Putting your phone down you walked to his office to see how much longer he was going to be. You wanted to go over everything with him so tomorrow morning y’all could focus on the goodbyes.

You knocked on his office door and he said come in. Walking in you saw him sitting at his desk, hair a mess, gray sweatpants hugging his hips, and his t-shirt spread across his chest. Perfectly outlining his toned body. You bit your lip.

“Hey sweetheart, you okay?” “Yeah. Just wanted to go over everything with you, but I can come back.”

Jensen turned so his body was facing you. His legs spread open. “Come here darlin’” he said as he motioned for you. He put his hands on your hips and pulled you between his legs. You leaned down and kissed his lips.

Jensen’s hands trailed up your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You moaned into his mouth. You could taste the whiskey he was drinking.

He pulled you on his lap and began kissing you again. You could feel his arousal through his pants. Your thin shorts leaving nothing much between you two.

You grinded down on his erection, pulling a moan from his lips. “Damn sweetheart. That feels good.” You slide out of his lap and drop to you knees. You look up at Jensen and smile.

Licking your lips you touch the waistband of his pants and begin to pull at them. You stop, look at him and he nods. Giving you permission to continue.

Slick pools between your legs and your breath quickens. You pull Jensen’s length out of his pants and boxers. You bite your lip at the sight. His cock is long and thick. The biggest you’d seen.

You saw some precum on the head, so you lick it off. Your mouth closes around the head and you lightly suck. Jensen groans. You take his length in your mouth and begin to suck him. From base to tip, all the way down your throat. Your tongue running up his length. Jensen’s eyes rolled back in his head, his head dipped back, and his hands grabbed your hair. “Oh fuck baby. That feels so good.”

Your mouth bobbed up and down his shaft. Taking every inch down your throat. The sounds of you sucking and his moans filled the small space of his office. You were taking him in so far your eyes began to water.

“Damn baby, you’ve got to stop. I don’t want to cum like this. Fuck I need you.” You leaned back slowly pulling your mouth off his cock. When you pulled your head back there was a small string of saliva that went from the tip to your lips.

“Damn you’re so beautiful, come here darlin’.” Jensen pulled you off your knees and pulled you back towards him. He sat you on the edge of his desk and ran his hands up your thighs. Your nipples were hard and poking out your shirt. Jensen leaned down and bit through your shirt. Your head fell backwards with a moan.

Jensen’s hands kept sliding up your thigh until they got to the hem of your shorts. His large hand pressed against your pussy through your shorts. Jensen could feel how wet you were. His fingers slid between your shorts and panties, “You’re so wet baby. I can’t wait to taste you.”

Jensen slid your shorts and panties down, exposing your dripping cunt to the cool air. A shiver went through your body. Jensen dropped down to his knees and put your legs over his shoulders. He licked a strip up between your folds, taking his fingers and parting your lips. Your hands grabbed his hair as his tongue danced around your clit.

“Yes, Jens, keep doing that. Oh god that feels so good.” Jensen’s fingers entered your pussy and hooked up. His tongue flicking and mouth sucking on your clit. “Oh god, I’m so close Jensen.” Jensen lifted his head, you noticed his beard glistened with your juices, “Cum for me sweetheart. Let me taste your release.” You pushed his head back down and he licked and ate you like a starved man. A few more licks and you were tumbling over the edge.

“Oh, fuck! Jensen, I’m cumming.” Jensen kept licking, pushing you over the edge again. By the time you finished cumming for the second or third time, you honestly lost count, your legs were like jello.

Jensen stood, lowering your legs gently. His lips crashed on yours. You could taste your release on his lips. “Come on darlin’, I need you. Let’s go to the bedroom.” Jensen helped you stand and took your hand. He guided you to his bedroom. “Jensen, are you sure?” As he pulled you into the room he locked the door, “Yes, I’m sure.”

He led you over to the bed, pulling off your shirt and exposing your breasts and your naked body to the chilly air. He removed his pants and was standing in front of you completely naked.

You bit your lower lip taking him in. You laid in the center of the bed as Jensen climbed between your legs. “Are you ready sweetheart?” “Yes, Jensen. I need you, please.” Jensen leaned over, grabbing a condom, putting it on. He lined himself up and slowly pushed inside you.

You both gasped at the feeling. Once he bottomed out he stopped. His head dipped into the crook of your neck. “Damn baby, you feel so good I could cum right now. I need a minute.” You were thankful he took a minute. He was much bigger than anyone you’d been with, so the feeling was a mixture of pleasure and pain.

Jensen hooked his arms around your legs and lifted them up a little. You moved your hips a little and he started to move. Setting a slow, steady pace, Jensen moved in and out of you. Taking his time, savoring every thrust and moan he pulled from your lips.

The sound of your pleasure and his rising in the air. Jensen felt himself getting closer so he sped up a little. His thrusts become more urgent, his hands gripping your hips and yours gripping his shoulders.

“Oh Jensen! Keep going baby. I’m close again.” Your grip on his shoulders got tighter and your nails dug into his skin. “Yes baby! Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, Y/N.” “Me too, Jensen.” Your release hit without warning, your walls squeezing him and pulling his release. With one final thrust he was spilling his seed into the condom.

You felt his cock stop twitching and he pulled out. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead as he got up to clean himself up. You pulled the sheet up and around you, laying in his bed you watched him go into the bathroom. Your heart fluttered and warmed.

When he came back to bed he pulled you into his arms. Placing a soft kiss on your lips he whispered, “That was incredible. Thank you.” You smiled, “Yes it was Jensen. Better than I imagined.” “Oh, so you imagined having sex with me?” You blushed, “maybe.” “Don’t worry, I’ve imagined having sex with you since I met you.”

“Jensen! You have not.” You hid your face laughing. “Yes I have. You looked incredible the first time I saw you. After you left that night I touched myself thinking about you. This was so much better.” You bit your lip and smiled.

He pulled you closer to him and brushed the hair out of your face, “You are so beautiful. I’m going to miss you so much while I’m gone.” “I’m going to miss you too, Jensen. So much.” “I’ll video chat at night and we can have phone sex.” He winked at you. “That sounds like fun.” You chuckled. “Come on sweetheart, let’s get some sleep. We have to be up early.”

You nodded and the two of you kissed each other. Placing your head on his chest, you heard the steady beat of his heart. As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you felt an undeniable feeling growing in your heart. You were equally excited and terrified.

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#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #jensen ackles #jackles #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles x reader

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agi-ppangx · 2 years ago

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💭lose yourself in my love

hwang hyunjin x gn!reader

warnings: intended (non-sexual) nudity, meltdown/depressive episode

an: based off of this request🫶🏽 if anyone of you is struggling, please dont be scared to reach out to someone you trust, you dont have to go through this alone. there are people who love and care about you<3

hyunjin called you around 9 in the evening, crying, and you barely understood his words other than “please come and help me.” you dropped everything you were doing at that moment and took a taxi to get to your boyfriend's apartment. to say you were scared would be an understatement - you were absolutely terrified, trembling the whole way there, praying that hyunjin was okay.

you took your spare key and opened the door, bursting into the apartment in a desperate need of seeing your boyfriend. you found him curled up on the floor of his bedroom, in complete darkness and you fell to your knees, reaching your arms in his direction. “hyune, my love, what’s going on?” you whispered, your eyes already filling with tears, but you knew you had to suck it up and be there for your boyfriend. he threw himself into your arms, clutching his fists on your shirt, as if he needed to ground himself. you started running your hand up and down his back, soothing his nerves. “can you tell me what’s wrong? i wanna help you, hyune,” you asked again, your voice soft and so, so quiet. you simply didn’t want to startle him. you saw your boyfriend’s meltdowns before, but this time something felt different. you were scared - what could possibly trigger that episode in him? “not now,” he whispered. “i don’t wanna talk about it right now, just need you,” he added, his broken tone tearing your heart apart. “it’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it, but can you do something for me?” you said and he looked at you with his teary eyes. “can you get up and go to the kitchen with me?” he nodded at that question and you helped him. you led the way, seating him on the chair, and you went to see what you could find in his fridge. you took out some leftovers, heated them and placed them on the table in front of hyunjin. he looked at the plate and sighed loudly, not moving a bit. you noticed that and decided to help him. you took a fork in your hand and scooped some food on it. “here, take a bite,” you encouraged him and he didn’t even protest, opening his mouth and eating everything you gave him. “you’re doing amazing, my love. just a few bites left,” you encouraged him in a soft tone. when he finished, you placed a featherlike kiss on his forehead. then you proceeded to bring some fresh clothes from his closet. you led him to the bathroom, helping him to take a quick, relaxing bath. you washed his hair and massaged his shoulders and back, helping him release the tension. then you helped him to put on the clothes and led him to his bed. you brushed his hair, humming softly one of his favourite songs. he closed his eyes, visibly relaxed and you felt relieved you managed to get him through the meltdown. when you finished and put the bush down, hyunjin opened his eyes and took your hand in his. you squeezed it, examining his look. “how are you feeling?” you asked shyly, unsure whether it was a good moment to ask that question. “better,” was all he said, a faint smile dancing on his lips. then he called your name and you hummed in acknowledgement. “can you kiss me?” he then asked. you smiled and nodded, leaning down and kissing him softly on his lips. he placed his hand on your hip and manouvered you into his lap. you broke the kiss, hesitant. “hyune, we don’t have to do this now,” you said, but he just shook his head. “but i want to. is it okay if we continue?” you looked him in the eyes and after a short moment you kissed him again, wrapping your arms around his neck. hyunjin whispered soft ‘i love you’s’ in between the kisses and you hoped he really felt a bit better than before. he promised to talk to you about his episode in the morning, but for now you decided to let him lose himself in the kisses.

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let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist🤎

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#skz #stray kids #stray kids headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz au #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #skz comfort #stray kids comfort #skz hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin comfort #hyunjin soft thoughts #hyunjin soft hours

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reputationfairy · 3 days ago

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꒰TRACK TWO꒱

꒰ ୨୧ ─ chapter summary: the grumpy chef gets to know the sweetest baker and things get... interesting. word count: 8623 (someone has a lot of thoughts)

꒰ ୨୧ ─ chapter trigger warnings: characters affected by symptoms of mental illness, grief, implied trauma, mentions of parental and child loss, sexual thoughts, suggestive innuendos, food insecurity (not eating), burnout, and medical episode (loss of consciousness). as always, let me know if i forgot something - xx, via.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ links: series masterlist, spotify playlist, info & faceclaims.

My phone buzzes twice in my pocket as we turn onto Clark from Fullerton, the lake slipping out of sight behind us and traffic building ahead. Ellie and Dina are full volume in the backseat, going off about something that sounds like a heated debate over Halloween candy rankings.

I stopped listening after we passed the ferris wheel. Not because I don’t care, but because my brain’s been half-elsewhere all afternoon. Walmart didn’t help. I only went in for garlic and salad mix. But five minutes in, Ellie spotted the hot pink “Ken” shirt hanging on a clearance rack and made it her life’s mission to get it on my body.

“It’s for Carrie,” she said, grinning like she’d already won. “She’s Barbie so you’ll match.”

I told her no but then Dina chimed in. Then Ellie gave me that look that always has me bending to her will and suddenly, I was standing in self-checkout, holding black polyester and wondering how the hell I got here.

Now the shirt’s clinging to me like a second skin, sleeves stretched tight across my biceps. I look ridiculous but Ellie’s happy about it.

The third buzz in my pocket pulls me back. I shift at the red light and fish out my phone.

Three texts from a number I don’t recognize.

UNKNOWN: hiiii, this is carrington

UNKNOWN (maybe: carrington): i got your number from nic. hope that’s ok

UNKNOWN (maybe: carrington): ETA?

My pulse kicks up, tight in my chest. Carrington. Even reading her name scrambles something in my head. I shouldn’t be this into someone I’ve barely spent time with. But I knew about her long before she ever walked into The Austin.

Two years ago, I was half a drink into an overlong gala shift when Madeline Crown cornered me in the kitchen. She was half-slurring praise about her “perfect, beautiful, too-good-for-anyone” best friend who’d bailed on the event. Twenty minutes later, she pulled up a blurry photo of Carrington on her phone and said, “You’d like her. She’s so sweet and she bakes. Although she loves pink so much, it’s honestly sickening.”

I did like her. Even before I saw her face, something about her name hooked me. The second I saw that fuzzy little picture, it knocked something loose in me. It wasn’t just an attraction. It was like my ribs expanded too fast for my chest to keep up. Madeline caught the look on my face and immediately asked if I was single. I was but I was barely functioning. Freshly in over my head raising Ellie and trying to nail my first Michelin star. But I said yes.

I needed to know her.

I push the thought away and tap out a reply with my thumb.

Me: That’s fine. 10 mins out.

As I hit send, a pointed and impatient tap lands on my shoulder.

I glance at the rearview, already knowing who it is. Ellie stares back, her brow furrowed, demon horns wobbling slightly with every bump in the road. Her expression says you’re in trouble, and I don’t even know what for yet.

I drop the phone into the cup holder. “What now?”

“Did you hear what I asked?” she snaps, crossing her arms like she’s my parole officer.

I shake my head. “Nah. Missed it. Wanna try again with less attitude?”

She exhales dramatically, turning toward the window like I’ve just ruined her day. “Not really,” she mutters. Then, with a quick pivot, she turns her head back forward. “How do you know Carrie?”

Ah. There it is.

The light turns green. I ease us through the intersection and keep my tone neutral. “She had a birthday lunch at The Austin with her friends.”

“Madi and Nic?” Dina cuts in from the back seat.

I glance at her in the mirror. The kid’s dressed like Snow White and still somehow looks like she could start a fight and win it. "Yeah," I confirm.

“They’ve been friends since they were in boarding school. I hope we’re like that,” Dina says to Ellie, like they haven’t just met this morning.

Ellie grins, her horns reflecting red dots on the dashboard as she shifts. “I hope so too.”

There’s a brief lull, filled by the low hum of music and the occasional bag crinkle as one of them digs into their Halloween candy haul. I start to think I’m off the hook.

I’m not.

“Joel,” Ellie says, breaking the silence.

Tension grows in my shoulders from exercising my patience. “Kiddo?”

“Have you ever been on a date?” she questions pointedly.

I huff out a laugh, eyes still on the road. “‘Course I have, El. I was married. You know that.”

There are things she doesn’t know, though. Things I’ll probably never tell her.

She doesn’t know my parents cut me off years ago, after I covered for Tommy when his gambling almost ruined them. Doesn’t know I held Sarah in my arms when leukemia finally took her. That my wife walked out not long after, too weighed down by grief to stay.

She doesn’t know her mom was one of my favorite employees. Or that her mother overdosed even after I paid for her rehab twice. That I took Ellie in, not because I wanted to be a dad again, but because I couldn’t stomach the thought of failing one more kid.

Ellie keeps going. “Yeah, but I’ve never seen you hang out with a woman. Since…” she trails off like she’s thinking. “ever,” she finishes.

I inhale sharply because she’s right. Since I’ve adopted her, she’s been my priority. “That’s ‘cause I’m tryin’ to make sure you don’t turn out fucked up when you’re older,” I give a half hearted attempt at avoiding this topic.

Dina doesn’t miss a beat. “He’s got a point. Some people become serial killers.” If this kid stays on my team, she can hang around as long as she wants.

Ellie snorts and kicks the back of my seat. It’s just enough to get my attention but not enough to make me pull over and leave her on the curb.

“But Uncle Tommy—” she starts, and I immediately groan.

“Don’t.”

“He goes out with women all the time,” she insists. “And he’s not that messed up.”

He’s the most fucked up in the head this family has to show for and has been in half the city. I don’t let my personal feelings for my brother show. Instead, I respond, “He’s also not picky. You want me out there chasing everything that moves like Tommy?”

Ellie makes a face. “Gross. No. I’m just saying… you don’t have to stay home and babysit me forever. I don’t want you to get old and blame me for having no life.”

I glance at her in the mirror. Her face is softer now, less smirk, more quiet worry. She’s wrong. One day, she’ll be the one packing for college resenting me and not the other way around.

“I won’t resent you, El,” I say, and for once, it’s not just talk. “Ain’t how this works.”

She raises a brow like she’s not sold. “Well, as long as you remember the plan, Carrie would say yes if you asked her out.”

Dina doesn’t even look up from fiddling with her sleeves. “She totally would. Carrie likes corny stuff.”

I pull up to another stop sign, this one closer to Halsted. I don’t say a word, so naturally, they keep going.

“She’s like a thirty-year-old dad trapped in a hot woman’s body,” Ellie muses, pleased with herself.

Dina gasps. “Yes! They’d balance each other out. You’re all moody and gruff, and she’s like… a cupcake.”

“A super cupcake,” Ellie agrees, like they’re building a dating profile. “Probably says ‘thank you’ to the ATM.”

That earns a small huff from me, but they’re not wrong. Carrington’s got that sweet, soft kind of kindness most folks fake. Hers just lives in her bones. And suddenly I’m spiraling just thinking about her curls, the freckles across her cheeks, the way her voice goes soft when she talks about Ellie and Dina. She’s sunlight.

“Hey, Joel?” Ellie interrupts my daydreaming.

“Yes, El?” I return my attention to my kid.

She lets the silence stretch. “If you wanna ask Carrie out, I promise I won’t turn out all emotionally stunted or whatever,” she drops on me casually as hell.

I cough. Fully choke on my own damn breath. “Language,” I manage once I recover.

She rolls her eyes. “You started it. Anyway, I wouldn’t mind if she was around forever or somethin’.”

That hits like a stomach punch. Not because I haven’t thought about it, but because I have. Too god damn much.

“Don’t ya think that’s a little fast?” I ask, keeping it light. “You just met her today.”

“I’ve got good instincts,” she says with a shrug, like it’s settled.

I glance in the mirror again and catch Dina watching quietly, like she’s trying to figure me out. I don’t want to keep this conversation going in front of her. I’ll ask Ellie later when I can get a read on what she really thinks when she’s not showing off.

“We’ll talk about it later, alright?”

Ellie slumps in her seat like I’ve ruined her life. “Fine. Just remember to stay in the car and wait for Dina to wave.”

Some part of me hopes it works. That Carrington sees me and loses her damn mind. But the sensible part of me knows better. "Got it," I mutter back.

By the time we hit Carrington’s street, traffic’s crawling with trick-or-treaters and half-distracted parents. West Loop glows with jack-o-lanterns, plastic swords, and toddlers in light-up costumes. I spot her right away—sitting outside her bakery, framed by the blush-pink storefront like it’s a movie still.

She’s handing out sugar and sunshine. I watch her slip an extra cookie to a little girl in a ladybug costume, and the kid’s whole face lights up. Carrington beams back with a smile that doesn’t look practiced. The kind that wedges itself into your chest and doesn’t let go.

I park right in front, hand tightening on the wheel. I’ve heard Madeline’s long-winded rants about her best friend. But the real thing is so much more. Enough to make my chest tight.

Ellie jumps out first, backpack swinging over one shoulder, still mid-story like the drive never ended. Dina follows close behind, laughing as she slams the door. I hear their voices float over to the sidewalk, cheerful, greeting Carrington like they’re all best friends. Carrington stands, hugging both girls at once, while I stay in the truck.

Then she looks over their shoulders, toward me. Her brows knit, her mouth parts like she’s trying to make sense of something. I don’t blame her. If I were her, I’d probably wonder if Ellie’s dad was secretly unhinged.

Dina leans in and whispers something, probably laying the groundwork for their plan. Carrington laughs, and it carries through the glass, clear and bright. That sound cuts straight through me in the best way.

Dina shoots me a two-finger wave. I don’t even remember cutting the engine, but as soon as I see the signal, I’m swinging the door open and stepping out.

The wind’s sharp against my skin as I round the truck, boots steady on uneven concrete. Carrington watches every step. I swear her breath hitches, or maybe I’m just hoping it does. She’s staring, and for a second I think I might’ve overplayed the bit.

Then she gives me clarity with her bubbly laugh.

"See, you didn’t have a Ken, so we brought you one. Surprise!" Dina throws her arms out toward me like I’m a damn birthday present.

Carrington’s still frozen, mouth slightly open, amber eyes locked on mine like she’s forgotten how to blink. “Joel,” she says finally, voice cracking just enough to wreck me.

"Hey there, sugar." I let the pet name land between us, loaded. She’s sweet enough to earn it.

I take a step toward her, ready to pull her into a hug, but hesitate mid-stride. But it doesn’t matter because Carrington’s already closing the distance. Before I can even think, her arms slide around my neck and pull me in tight.

It knocks the breath outta me. And judging by the stunned looks on the girls’ faces, I’m not the only one caught off guard.

I freeze for a beat, then wrap my arms around her waist. She’s warm and soft in a way that’s lived in my head more than I’d like to admit. I hold her too tightly, but I don’t care. She smells like cinnamon, caramel, and something I can’t name. Something I want more of.

She’s the one to pull back first, but her hands linger against my chest, fingertips brushing the fabric of my shirt like she’s not quite ready to let go. I try to stay still, keep it friendly, but every damn nerve in my body is on fire.

“Hi,” she murmurs, voice soft and lit up like morning sun. And just like that, the whole world narrows to her and the way she looks at me like I’m something worth keeping.

Her gaze flicks down, landing on the stupid pink “Ken” stretched across my chest. She breathes out a laugh. “Nice outfit. You look… perfect.”

My grin pulls slow and crooked, unstoppable. “That’s all you,” I say, rougher than I mean to.

I want to stay like this, memorizing the pink flush rising high on her cheeks. I want to tilt her chin and press my mouth to hers before I talk myself out of it. But I don’t. Instead, I step back, keeping my voice stable. “Now… lemme grab the supplies for dinner.”

As I turn, my hands skim down her sides. It’s barely a touch, but I make damn sure it counts. Her sharp little breath tells me she noticed.

I head to the truck unhurriedly on purpose. I want her eyes on me. Want her remembering. I drop the tailgate down like it weighs nothing, grabbing the bags easily. I don’t miss the way she’s watching me, her lips parted slightly, throat working as she swallows.

“Is it a lot?” she asks, stepping close, toeing the edge of the curb.

I shrug, slamming the hatch shut. “Yeah, but I got it. You ain’t liftin’ a finger.”

She scrunches her face giving the bags hanging from my shoulder a twisted look. That sweet kind of stubborn that makes my pulse tick faster. “Okay, but at least let me get the do—”

I catch her wrist before she gets too far. She turns, eyes wide as I step closer. “This’ll be the first and last time you open a door for me,” I say, low. “I was raised right. No woman, ’specially not you, opens a door for me. That clear?”

She blinks like she’s never heard anything so direct in her life. Her lips part, maybe to protest or to tease, but nothing comes out. A moment passes, then she whispers, "Yes, Joel," in response.

I let her go with a nod. She turns, a little flustered, and I catch the slight wobble in her step. She’s tired and I can tell, even if she tries to hide it. I follow, the bags digging into my arms, but I barely notice. She opens the golden door handle smooth as anything, stepping aside like she didn’t just knock the wind clean out of me.

The girls barrel past her, grinning like they just won the lottery. “Dina didn’t stop talking about your place all day,” Ellie says, eyes wide, like she’s meeting a celebrity. “I’m excited to finally see it.”

Dina groans. “Hey! It’s because I practically live here.”

My brow raises a little at that. The kid practically lives here? Thought she just worked for Carrington.

Carrington laughs, shaking her head. “Only because I’m the only person your sister trusts to keep an eye on you during her overnight shifts.”

Her voice is light, but something in my chest eases at that, like a knot loosening. Carrington doesn’t just run a bakery, she holds people up. Makes them feel safe. I wonder who does that for her.

The girls vanish down the hallway, their laughter echoing in their wake. I move slower, my age seemingly catching up to me, but I don’t care. Carrington steps inside, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft click.

The bakery’s quiet now. Earlier, it buzzed with life. But now, it feels almost intimate, like it’s holding its breath. The chairs are flipped up, the lights dimmed to a soft, amber glow. Through the glass behind the counter, I spot racks of dough already proofing for the morning. Of course she’s already prepared. She seems like the kind of woman who always is.

I follow her through the kitchen, my boots thudding against the clean tile. She moves ahead, light and sure, casting a glance over her shoulder to check that I’m still here. Like she wants me to be.

I try not to read into it too much. I made that mistake before with Sarah’s mom. In the end, I was wanting someone who didn't want me back. Now I’m believing I deserve good shit when I don’t.

There’s a narrow staircase tucked in the back, and she leads the way. The old wood creaks beneath our weight as we climb. I keep my steps steady. And not just because of the bags I’m carrying, but because of her. Because being near her makes me want to take my time.

She hums under her breath, soft and barely there. She probably thinks I can’t hear her, but I do. Her hair catches the light and, for a moment, I forget what air is. Every small, unintentional thing about her feels designed to undo me.

At the top, the door to her loft is already open from the girls rushing ahead. I step over a mess of jackets and bags near the door, taking it all in.

Exposed brick walls. Fairy lights wrapped around the beams. A worn-in couch draped in mismatched blankets. Books stacked high on every surface. It’s cozy and it fits her in a way that punches something soft in my chest. Carrington catches me looking, but she doesn’t say anything. Just smiles like she’s proud of what she’s built.

Dina wastes no time shoving Ellie toward the big window seat. "This is the best spot in the house. You can see everyone coming and going. Prime people-watching," she tells Ellie, pointing down to the street in front of Starlight.

Ellie snorts. "Alright, what is the worst thing a customer can order?"

"Plain croissant," Dina answers without a moment of thought, like it’s a mortal sin.

Carrington crosses her arms, mock offended. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with a plain croissant.”

I walk toward the kitchen, dropping the bags onto the counter. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a classic,” I add.

Shrugging out of my leather jacket, I glance around for a place to set it down. Carrington steps up without a word and holds out her hand.

I hand it over, our fingers brushing. Her chest rises and falls quickly in that way she probably thinks I don’t notice. But I do. Everything about her sticks to my brain like glue.

"Thanks," I murmur as she carries my jacket over to the coat rack, moving with that easy grace again. I watch her go, breathing in the lingering scent of her mixed with my cologne.

Meanwhile, Dina flops onto a giant beanbag by the TV. "And this is where you disappear if you want to be lazy for three hours," she says. "But if Carrie’s on a rom-com binge, you might never leave."

Ellie laughs and sinks into the beanbag beside her. "Good to know. What’s her stance on horror movies?" she asks as I begin unloading the ingredients onto the counter.

Carrington opens her mouth to answer, but Dina beats her to it. "Oh, she can’t handle them."

Carrington crosses her arms, pouting a little. "That is utterly untrue."

Dina smirks wide. "You made me leave the lights on after Smile. Totally killed the mood when we watched the second movie."

Carrington’s about to protest, but her expression shifts. I see a plan forming behind her eyes before she even speaks.

She claps her hands once to get the girls attention and for the first time tonight, they stop talking. "Why don’t you two go downstairs and finish passing out the cookies? I’d really appreciate it."

Dina squints, suspicious. "Wait. I thought you didn’t need help tonight?"

Carrington smiles sweetly. “That was before Joel offered to cook. And you know,” she adds, tossing a look toward the speaker on the wall, “the chef controls the music.”

Dina looks at Ellie, who instantly shakes her head like she’s already been traumatized. “You do not wanna be here when Joel starts playin’ his fifties playlist. Let’s go,” Ellie says, hopping up.

I try not to be offended by my teenage daughter’s words while Dina groans like she’s just been sentenced to life without parole. "Fine. But you owe us, Carrie."

Carrington waves them off with a sing-song, "Duly noted," like she didn’t just expertly clear the room.

Their footsteps fade down the stairs, leaving behind a quiet that feels heavier than it should. I stay where I am, leaning into the counter with my arms crossed, just watching her.

Carrington turns back to me and catches the look on my face instantly. "That was real slick," I say, letting the amusement drip from every word.

She blinks up at me, all wide-eyed and fake innocence. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

She’s a bad liar. A cute one, but still bad.

I let out a quiet chuckle, push off the counter, and roll up my sleeves. “Sure you don’t.”

I move to the sink and roll up my sleeves. Water rushes against the basin as I scrub my hands, stealing glances her way. Part of me still wonders if I’m reading her wrong. If I’m just some stray she feels sorry for. But when I turn, she’s still looking at me like I’m the only thing worth seeing.

I dry my hands leisurely, toss the towel aside, and nod toward the space between us. "So," I say, "I got full access to your kitchen?"

Carrington crosses her arms, her hip nudging the counter as she leans. "Depends. Are you planning on burning it down?"

I step toward her, cautiously. Close enough to reach for her if I wanted. Close enough to kiss her if I wasn’t such a damn coward.

“Ain’t plannin’ on it... unless you like your food extra crispy,” I murmur, my voice dropping low, just enough that it curls between us.

She bites her lip, trying not to smile. But she fails, beautifully. “Alright, fine. You’re in charge,” she concedes with a shrug.

“Good.” I start digging through the grocery bags for the cookware I thought I packed, coming up short.

I sigh through my nose, then glance back at her. “Where’s your pots and pans, sugar?”

“In this cabinet right here.” She motions lazily toward a cabinet near her knee.

I crouch down to open it, but my balance shifts and instinct kicks in. I reach to steady myself and my hand lands on her thigh. Her skin is buttery soft and smooth under my hand. The contact punches a jolt straight through me.

I freeze, registering just how close I am to her, how easy it would be to inch her legs apart and taste that sweet nectar of hers. Instead, I let go carefully trying to give us both a moment to breathe. But right now, all I can think about is how hard I am for her.

"Sorry, Care," I murmur. The nickname slips out without thought, rough and too honest. I don’t usually talk gently like this. But with her, it comes easier than with anyone I’ve ever met besides Ellie.

She shakes her head quickly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, like she’s trying to gather herself. She doesn’t speak, just watches me like she doesn’t trust her voice to come out right.

I reach back into the cabinet, grab a pot and pan with more force than necessary. The clang fills the silence like a pressure valve releasing. When I stand, my knees pop, but I pretend I didn’t hear it.

I set the pot on the burner, twist the knob, and watch the flame curl to life. It licks the bottom of the steel with a warm flicker. I toss in a knob of butter and stare as it sizzles, swirling and melting like it knows what kind of tension’s building under my skin.

Carrington moves to the speaker across the room, her heels clicking softly against the floor. “I always listen to music while I work. Want to pick something?” she asks, pausing by the shelf. Her voice wavers, just barely, but I catch it.

I stir the pan absently, watching the butter froth. “Think I’ll spare ya. Ellie wasn’t lyin’. You don’t wanna hear my music.”

She presses the power button anyway, giggling. The speaker comes to life with a soft thump that echoes into the quiet room.

“And besides…” I say, voice just loud enough to be heard over the crackle of butter, “this ain’t work.”

Not for me. Cooking for her, in her kitchen, doesn’t feel like effort. It feels like something I wanna do again and again, if it means she’ll eat right. If it means I get to see that smile when she takes the first bite. Hell, I’d build a whole damn menu around her if she let me.

She taps through her phone and presses play. A sweet, high-energy beat fills the space, all pink glitter and nonsense. It doesn’t match the weight on my chest, but somehow it works.

I blow out a breath, not bothering to hide the judgment in my tone. “Lord have mercy.”

“Problem?” she teases, one brow lifted like she already knows the answer.

“Didn’t take you for the bubblegum pop type,” I mutter, tossing diced onions into the pan. The sizzle is sharp, the scent grounding.

She gasps, full of mock offense. “Excuse me! Bubblegum pop is a legitimate genre, thank you very much.”

I bite down a laugh, stirring the onions slowly as they turn gold. A few songs later, I catch myself nodding along without even realizing it.

When I look up from the half-finished meal, Carrington's staring, arms crossed, a teasing smile pulling at her mouth. "You like it," she accuses.

I shrug, nonchalant. "It’s catchy. Not sayin’ I’m proud," I counter, knowing damn well I don’t give a shit. As long as she keeps looking at me like that, she can play whatever she wants.

She flashes another one of those damn grins, the kind that makes my hands itch to reach for her. "You should be," she says.

I shake my head and turn back to the stove, working through the next steps without thinking. I reach for the ground beef, toss it into the skillet. The sizzle is sharp, satisfying. I season by instinct—salt, pepper, a little crushed red pepper for kick—letting the smell fill the kitchen.

Meanwhile, the pasta water starts to boil. I toss a handful of spaghetti into the pot without measuring, trusting my gut the way I always have in a kitchen. Carrington watches me move around her space, silent, like she can’t quite figure me out. I pretend not to notice. Pretend I don’t feel the heat of her gaze trailing every step I take.

Finally, I glance up, catching her mid-stare.

"You just gonna stand there lookin’ pretty," I tease after sliding the garlic bread into the oven, "or you thinkin’ about helpin'?"

Her cheeks bloom pink right away. She straightens up, clears her throat like she’s buying time.

"I don’t really like cooking much," she says, eyes flicking down to the floor for a second. "Baking is more careful and measured. If you don’t follow the steps exactly, everything falls apart. For some reason, I like that over the chaos that is cooking."

She bites her lip, then exhales. “Actually… I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve had a home-cooked meal in months.”

She says it like she’s embarrassed, like she expects me to judge her. I want to tell her not to apologize. That she could say anything and I’d still want to be around her. But I keep that to myself.

I glance at the spotless stove and start putting the pieces together. No smudges on the burners. Not a speck of oil anywhere.

“So if you don’t cook, what do you eat?” I ask, picking up the kitchen towel to wipe my hands.

She shrugs, lips parting slightly. “For breakfast I just have pastries from downstairs. Then I get takeout for lunch or dinner.”

The thought makes something twist in my chest. She shouldn’t be dining at shitty restaurants. Only the finest foods should touch her tongue.

“You do that all the time?” I ask, trying not to let the judgment slip into my tone.

She nods, brushing her fingers along the edge of the counter like she needs something to hold onto. “Yeah. But I’m trying to change that. I’ve got this idea to open a bookstore café with Willow. She owns the coffee shop next door. She’s great with drinks, so I figured I should focus on food. But I don’t even know where to start.”

She pauses, then glances up at me through her lashes. “I was actually hoping… maybe you’d have time to teach me? I promise it wouldn’t happen often. I just feel like I’m failing at adulthood not knowing how to cook.”

God help me.

She rambles like asking me to spend more time with her won’t gut me clean. Like she has no idea I’ve spent an ungodly amount of time thinking about her. No clue that letting me this close is like handing me a match and expecting me not to strike it.

“You ain’t failin’ at nothin’,” I say, setting the towel down. “Hell, we’re all missin’ somethin’. And yeah… I’ll teach you.”

Her eyes light up, all warmth and wonder, like the neon bakery sign downstairs. “Really? Thank you, Joel. You don’t know how much that means.”

I nod once, sure as ever. “’Course. When were you wantin’ to start?”

“Well…” she sways a little in place, fiddling with the hem dress. “I’ve been watching you tonight and, honestly? You make it look less scary. So, would next Sunday work?”

“Yeah. I’m free,” I say, knowing damn well I’ll catch shit from Tommy for missing another dinner shift to be her personal chef. “But we should do it at my place.”

“Sweet,” she says, grinning. “What neighborhood are you in?”

I pause. I’ve learned what happens when I say Lincoln Park out loud. Fancy zip codes complicate things. So I shrug. “Not sure. Somewhere up north.”

She raises a brow, not buying it for a second. “You don’t know where you live?”

I smirk, tossing a dish towel onto the counter. “Moved here a couple years back. Didn’t know much ‘bout Chicago. My brother said it’d be the next LA. Figured why not.”

She tilts her head, amused. “Where were you before that?”

“Arlington, born. Grew up near Austin.”

Her eyes go wide. “So that’s why your restaurant’s called The Austin. I feel like I’m finally connecting the dots.”

I glance at the oven, checking the garlic bread. “Well, now it’s your turn. I only know what Madeline’s ranted about. You always lived in Chicago?”

She nods, slower this time. “Yeah. My parents were both from here. My mom was a teacher and…” She trails off, lips pressing together. “She passed away a couple years ago. I don’t really know my dad. Haven’t seen him in, like… fifteen years.”

I lower the burner, setting my plan to stir the sauce aside. It can wait for her.

Crossing the room, I slip an arm around her waist and draw her close. “I’m real sorry, sugar. That’s a hard one.”

She lets her head rest against my chest. My arms wrap around her like they’ve done it a hundred times. She talks into the fabric of my shirt, voice muffled but clear enough. “She was great. Everybody loved her. I still miss her every day, but if she hadn’t passed… I’d still be a nurse.”

I rest my chin on her head. “How come?”

“She was an English teacher,” she says. “She kept these journals, and after she died, I found one where she said she was worried I wasn’t happy. That I was just… doing what I thought I should.”

I feel her words settle in my chest. “Was she right?”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “I just wanted to be helpful. Didn’t mean I liked it.”

I nod. “I get that.”

She exhales shakily. “It was a wake-up call. I didn’t realize how bad I was doing until I read what she saw. I wasn’t hiding my struggles like I thought I was.”

I pull back a little, brushing a curl from her cheek. “You happy now?” I ask and regardless of her answer, I plan on making her feel like she’s on top of the world for the rest of her life.

She looks up at me, eyes shining. “In a way, yeah. I’m not all the way there, but I’m better. I just… wish I could tell her. Show her, I guess.”

My hand returns to stroke her back, grounding us both. “I’m bettin’ she knows. Wherever she is.” My voice sticks a bit in my throat, ‘cause I can see it in my head—Carrington’s mom up there next to Sarah. If she’s anything like her daughter, they’d get along just fine.

She nods, blinking fast. “Yeah. I hope so.”

Her hands slide from my back to my arms, giving me a soft squeeze. “Can we change the subject to something less sad?”

“Sure,” I say, clearing my throat and stepping back toward the stove. “You wanna start learnin’ how to cook now? I’m almost done, but there’s still some beginner work left.”

She nods, inching over like the floor might give out beneath her. I slide the salad bowl her way. “Alright, sugar. Let’s start small.”

She blinks down at it. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

I chuckle, dumping the lettuce in. “That first. Lil’ olive oil, lil’ vinegar. Don’t go soakin’ it. Sprinkle the feta and toss the tomatoes on top,” I give her instructions before picking up the spoon on the counter to stir the pasta sauce.

She nods seriously, then immediately over-pours the vinegar like she’s trying to flood the bowl.

Abandoning the spoon to float down into the sauce, I step forward. “Okay. Fuck. Hold on,” I mutter, gently prying the bottle from her hands. “You tryin’ to drown the whole damn garden?”

She winces, laugh already bubbling up. “Sorry! I told you I’m terrible at this.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling slow. “She said she wanted to learn,” I mutter to myself.

“And I do,” she says quickly, tone too chipper to be trusted.

I shake my head and carry the bowl to the sink, tipping out the mess with one hand. When I turn back, she’s watching me with a look that says she’s either about to say something ridiculous. She proves me right.

“Maybe we could put my costume to good use,” she says sweetly.

I almost choke on my own spit. “What?”

She spins a little, motioning to the ridiculous pink ruffles that she makes look like designer clothing. “You know. Use me. Move me around like a doll.”

I stare at her, biting the inside of my cheek so I don’t laugh. It’s either that or saying the exact thing that comes to mind, which involves a lot less cooking and a whole lot of bending her over this damn counter. The dirty thought quickly flees from my brain because she’s too damn innocent to know what she just said and too cute for her own good.

“Alright then, Chef Barbie,” I say, stepping closer. “Guess I’ll help… so you don’t ruin it.”

I set the bowl down again and close the gap between us, one hand on either side of her, caging her in without touching her. She spins to face the counter, but her shoulders go stiff for half a second when she realizes I’m not moving away.

Still, she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t back off. She stays right there, spine brushing my chest, waiting.

I reach around and slide my hands over hers, guiding her fingers to the olive oil. “Grip it like this,” I murmur near her ear. “Not too tight. Just firm enough so it don’t slip.”

She nods once, following my lead, her body syncing to mine like we’ve done this before. My hand stays over hers, steadying the bottle as we move together. “Good,” I say lowly, “just like that. Small circles.”

Her ass brushes right against my crotch and I forget what breathing is. I don’t move, not right away. If I say anything, my voice’s gonna give me away. If I move too fast, I’ll make it weird. But she doesn’t pull back.

I guide her hand gently away, setting the oil down with more control than I feel. “Now grab the feta,” I say, voice tighter than I want. “Just a pinch. Not the whole damn bag.”

I keep my hand over hers a second too long, guiding her through scattering the feta. She’s quiet, focused, but there’s a smile tucked in the corner of her mouth that tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

“See?” she says softly. “I’m learning.”

I lean in, nudge her shoulder with mine. “Barely.”

She laughs, and I shift her hands toward the small bowl of tomatoes. “Go on. Dump ’em in.”

She does, carefully. “There,” I say. “Now it almost looks like somethin’ worth eatin’.”

She spins around with a grin, bouncing like she just won the lottery. “Yay! I did it!”

I nod, keeping it cool. “Yeah, you did,” I confirm, pride blooming inside my chest.

Turning back to the stove, I scan the counter for something to occupy my hands before I do something stupid, like pull her back into me. “Where’s your oven mitts?”

I hear her heels tap across the floor before she answers, “Over here.”

She opens the drawer, and I glance over just in time to see the whole thing is filled with pink oven mitts. Pink with hearts. Pink with glitter. Pink with some kind of cartoon pastry on them.

“How many do you need?” she asks, head tilted.

“Just two’ll do,” I say, watching her like a man staring down a problem he doesn’t mind having.

While she’s turned, I shift, trying to discreetly adjust my jeans. It’s no use. My dick’s been betraying me all night, and she hasn’t even touched me. Just her laugh, her voice, the way she sways when she walks— it all drives me up the wall.

She turns, handing them over. “Here you go.”

I clear my throat and take the mitts. “Almost done.”

She moves and grabs the plates and forks from a cabinet. “I only have two bar stools, so I hope you’re okay with us eating on the couch?”

“That’s fine,” I say, making sure my voice doesn’t give away how much I actually like the idea of being close to her like that.

While I finish up by pulling the garlic bread out of the oven and stirring the sauce one last time, she drifts toward the living room. Music’s still playing in the background and she moves like she’s in her own world. She lays a roll of paper towels on the coffee table, swaying a little to the beat. It’s the simplest thing, but I can’t take my eyes off of her.

I plate the food and wipe my hands on a towel. “Let me grab the girls so you can try everything while it’s hot.”

She flashes a smile over her shoulder. “Sounds good. Tell them to watch the steps.”

“Will do.”

I slide open the loft door and head down. The bakery’s dark now, still warm from earlier. Through the front windows, I spot the girls curled up on patio chairs, deep in some conversation.

I push the door open and hold it. “Hey, kiddos. Dinner’s ready. Go on up and wash your hands.”

“Okay!” Ellie hops up, tugging Dina with her. I follow them inside, lock up, and jog up the stairs.

When I step back into the loft, it’s warm and golden with soft shadows. Carrington’s already set two glasses down in front of the girls, who’ve claimed one end of the couch, talking about costumes and candy like it’s the most important thing in the world.

“Thank you, Carrie,” Dina says, flashing a grin.

I slide the door shut behind me and she turns at the sound. Her face lights up and for a second, all I can think about is what it’d feel like to wake up to her every damn morning. “I should’ve asked earlier,” she says, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Want something to drink?”

“Beer’s fine, if ya got it.”

“I do,” she says, flashing that dimple again. She crosses to the fridge, bending slightly as she opens it. Her skirt lifts just enough to test my self-control.

I look away. Try not to think about how easily I could pull her back against me, fist that hair in my hand, make her moan my name ‘til she breaks. But the thoughts don’t go anywhere. They stick.

I wait for the sound of bottles shifting, the clink of glass. It doesn’t come. Five seconds pass. Then ten.

She’s probably just scanning the shelves but from here, I can tell ain’t shit in there but condiments and drinks. “Care?” I call, casual at first.

Still nothing. Her hand’s braced on the fridge door, body slouched like she forgot what she was doing. The slope of her shoulders is all wrong.

“Carrington,” I say, voice firmer now.

No response.

By the time I reach her, she’s swaying. Her skin’s clammy, heat rolling off her in waves. My hand brushes the back of her neck, moves to the small of her back.

“Sugar,” I whisper. “It’s alright if there ain’t no beer.”

She tilts forward, then her knees buckle.

“Shit,” I grunt, catching her before she touches the tile. I slide one arm under her knees, the other bracing her back. She’s limp and too damn light. My chest clenches.

“Fuck. Fuck,” I mutter, cradling her tight, heading straight for the couch.

I sit down at the far end, keeping her in my lap, her head tucked beneath my chin. Her breathing’s shallow, but steady. I start rubbing slow circles into her back, willing myself to calm down. Then it hits me.

Coffee and a donut for breakfast. Maybe nothing else since. No food, no rest. Just fumes.

I hear a phone dropping to the floor. “Joel?” Ellie’s voice is tight.

Dina gasps a second later. “Holy shit. What just happened?”

“She fainted,” I say, sharper than I mean to. “She’s alright. Just gimme a sec.”

I glance over at the girls who are bouncing anxiously, like they need something to do to feel helpful. “Hey. Can y’all grab some water? And a plate with the extra garlic bread on the island. She needs somethin’ in her system.”

They scramble off, no questions asked. Cabinet doors slam open in the kitchen.

Carrington stirs against me. Her lashes flutter, brow creasing like she’s climbing her way back to the surface.

“Hey there,” I murmur, brushing a curl from her cheek. “You’re alright, sugar. Take it slow.”

She shifts, trying to sit up, but she’s weak. I slide my hand behind her back, helping her stay upright. “What... happened?” she mumbles.

“You passed out,” I say quietly. “Pretty sure it’s ‘cause you ain’t eaten anythin’ real all day.”

She opens her mouth, maybe to deny it, but nothing comes out.

Ellie returns with the water, Dina behind her with a plate full of garlic bread. I nod at them. “Thanks. Go ahead and eat. We’ll join y’all in a sec.”

They hover for a second, then move toward the kitchen island. Carrington tries to get up again, but she’s too unsteady. I keep my arm around her and tear a piece of bread, holding it up. “Eat.”

She hesitates, but lets me feed her.

“That’s it,” I say. “Good girl.”

She chews deliberately. I lift the glass and hold it to her lips. She sips, and when she pulls back, the corner of her mouth twitches.

“You’re bossy,” she slurs sleepily.

“Yeah, well,” I tear another bite, “someone’s gotta be.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“You didn’t have to,” I say, nudging it toward her. “I’m doin’ it anyway.”

She gives me a weak glare, but it’s all bark. The garlic bread disappears piece by piece, her color coming back, slow but sure.

“You feelin’ up to real food now?” I ask, stroking her cheek.

She nods, voice steadier. “I think I can manage a few more bites.”

“Perfect.” My thumb lingers along her jaw before I ease her back and stand.

The plates are still warm. I grab ours, bring them over, and set mine on the coffee table. She’s trying to sit up, sluggish.

“Lean back, sugar,” I say, sliding an arm behind her. “I got you.”

She settles into me again. I lift a forkful of spaghetti to her lips. She takes it with no fuss, chewing and swallowing. My eyes follow every movement like she’s the only thing that matters in the world.

“There ya go,” I say gently. “Nice and slow.”

Bite by bite, she eats. Across the couch, Dina and Ellie shoot us matching looks—part horror, part amusement.

“Oh my God,” Dina stage-whispers. “You two are gross and cute.”

Ellie covers her mouth. “I’m gonna puke.”

Carrington groans into my shoulder. “Alright, alright. Someone pick a movie so I can stop being heckled while I’m hand-fed like an heiress.”

“Nightmare Before Christmas,” Dina declares. “It’s tradition.”

Carrington shrugs. “Can’t argue with tradition.”

As Dina sets it up, I help Carrington finish her plate. She’s eaten more than I expected, and she looks steadier now. I hand her the rest of her water and brush a kiss against the top of her head—light, nothing demanding.

I polish off my own plate one-handed, her still tucked against me. When I finish, I glance over at the girls. “Pass me your plates,” I tell them.

Dina offers hers up with zero hesitation but Ellie makes a face. “Why? You always make me clean up after you cook.”

“Considerin’ tonight’s circumstances, I’ll handle it,” I say, stacking their dishes on mine. “Y’all just relax.”

Carrington shifts like she might argue. “Joel, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” I cut in, quiet but firm. “Let me take care of it.” Let me take care of you.

I head into the kitchen, rinsing plates in the sink, the water running steady as I scrub. The girls’ voices are hushed now, low like they think I can’t hear. I’m not trying to eavesdrop, but Carrington’s voice drifts through the kitchen air anyway.

“I’m sorry if I scared you two,” she says gently. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. I should’ve taken better care of myself.”

There’s a pause but I can’t hear the kid’s response over the sound of clattering dishes. “It was just… a long day,” Carrington adds. “But I promise, next time I’ll eat. You can’t survive off nothing, right?”

Dina mumbles something I can’t quite catch, probably giving her shit in a way only someone who loves you can. Ellie hums in agreement, quieter. I hear Carrington laugh softly under her breath, but it’s not one of those carefree giggles she gave out earlier. It’s thin, a little tired.

“You both need to make sure you eat too,” she warns them. “No skipping meals to keep up with work or school or… whatever. Deal?”

“Deal,” Ellie murmurs.

I shut the faucet off and dry my hands, heart heavy. She’s still worried about them. Still thinking of everyone else before herself.

I head back just as they’re pulling blankets down from the back of the couch. The lights are dim, movie already playing, shadows flickering over the room. Carrington looks up at me as I settle beside her. Then she leans in without a word, curling into my side and resting her head in my lap.

I freeze.

She fits there too easy, her arm tucked beneath her, cheek warm against me. I don’t dare move. My hand hovers for a second, then lowers to her hair, fingertips brushing gently through soft curls.

She’s just using your legs as a pillow. This means nothing.

Ellie shifts, tucking her feet under my leg. “I’m usin’ you for heat,” she mutters, settling in. I don’t protest the regular occurrence.

She leans into Dina, scrolling through her phone and giggling at something. But soon even they get pulled in by the movie’s lull.

An hour passes with the three of them singing low and off-key, trading verses with familiarity. Eventually, the room softens. The music plays on, but the laughter fades.

Carrington’s breathing evens out first. I glance down and find her completely out—cheek still pressed to my thigh, lashes resting soft against her skin. She twitches once, then goes still again.

Not long after, the girls quiet too. Ellie slumps into Dina’s side, and Dina tugs the throw blanket higher without a word.

I shift carefully, easing my phone from my pocket without waking anyone. The screen’s too bright in the dark, so I turn the brightness down, then thumb in the alarm for 5:00 AM. I’ll get six hours of sleep, give or take.

I slip the phone next to Carrington’s back. My head tips against the cushion. The ceiling blurs above me with flashes of blue from the TV glow. Across the room, Halloween lights flicker faint red and orange. The scent of garlic bread still hangs in the air, wrapped in sugar and something floral from whatever candle she burned recently.

Carrington stirs. Her fingers brush against my side in her sleep, curling slightly. My hand stays steady on her back, feeling each slow breath as it rises and falls.

The couch is too damn small. My legs are restricted in jeans and my neck’s gonna hate me come morning.

But none of it matters.

Because this? This is what I forgot I’ve been missing. Not just a quiet night in someone else’s home. Not just her curled up against me like she belongs here. Not just two girls whispering like they’ve been friends forever.

It’s the stillness. The weight of being needed without demand. The peace of fitting into a space that never asked me to change.

A home and a family. Something I lost, something I never thought I’d get back.

I close my eyes and let myself feel this euphoria just a little longer. I let it wrap around me like a blanket. I let her stay right where she is.

Let this feel real, even if it’s just for tonight.