#im burned out man. and im sad about it. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theblacklewinsky · 3 months ago

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Note: I'm feral for this man and this song + struggling w my writing format ( im new to this omg )

JADED | AARON PIERRE.

Toxic!Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader.

warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions of but not limited to; sexual content ( finger!ng), extreme language (cursing, use of n-word, use of b-word), talking you through it. lil bit of exhibitionism if you squint, mild daddy k!nk.

summary: in which you decide to end the toxic situation-ship you share with Terry— except this man only know how to suck you back in.

tell me that we locked in, locked in, look in my eyes.

tell me that you mine and we ain't just fuckin, ain't just vibin.

Why were you nervous? It wasn't like you'd never been in the very same GMC pickup before—oh you'd been in here plenty times, plenty times. Your eyes flickered to whatever they could, other than him.

The backseat.

The same backseat you'd been folded. flipped, and fucked out on. It was clean now, he'd definitely had some detailing done, the remnants of how he made you squirt only two weeks earlier had vanished, once etched into the seat itself.

And why were you sad about that?

You averted your eyes away from the backseat, firmly turning straight forward in the passenger seat, teeth nervously gnawing at the skin in your jaw. It was way too silent and tense in the truck. Way too silent. "Hi..” you sheepishly muttered, tucking a stray curl from your wash and go behind your ear, eyes darting around the parking lot of your apartment complex. The parking lot was the safest option for you, you knew how incredibly intoxicating Terry was, which meant the more space from your bedroom, the better.

Out of your peripheral, you could see Terry's face contorted into a twisted mix of confusion anger. His brows furrowed together, a mug presenting itself on his face. "What the fuck?" He spat. "Wassup?" He asked, his tone more accusatory than anything.

Where the fuck did he get off acting hurt and confused? That was supposed to be your stance in this whole thing, hurt and confused. And most of the time it was. But tonight, it was a nice change of pace, the hurt and confusion lingered on Terry instead—in which you could finally take on the nonchalant and curt demeanor. It felt so good too. So good to finally not be the one with the lump in their throat, eyes burning from blinking back tears. This felt, good.

"Nothin', just chillin," you simply responded, playing with the smartphone in your lap, acrylic nails tapping at the casing.

"Fuck you mean just chillin?" He asked his brows furrowed as he tried to catch your darting eyes. "You ain't been seein' me text you?"

"Yeah?" You responded slowly in a questioning tone, as you focused on the ASICS on your feet. "Been busy lately."

You seen Terry texts. Shit, the past couple of days he'd been the one blowing you up. It started the other night when he rung your bell and you didn't answer, you knew it was him, and he knew you were home. Lights still on and bright in the kitchen.

Private Ryan: Just rung the bell

Private Ryan: Come out.

Private Ryan: I'm sorry for the way I acted the other night. I ain't handle that situation like a man. Lemme make it up to u

It was so hard ignoring Terry, he made it hard. He didn't text or call often, he wasn't hardcore into his phone like the rest of the generation, maybe the marines played a part in that? Hell, he made sure to stay active in an effort not to get addicted to his cellular device—that's why when he texted it was a big deal.

But no way this nigga thought that you'd be at his every beck and call when he couldn't even solidify a title between the two of you? Casual sex and jealousy gets old—especially when it isn't under the terms of a relationship.

It was fun at first, linking up and sneaking off. Getting folded like a lawn chair when you least expected it, but there was something about Terry that brung the strings to a no-strings-attached situation. You started craving him, wanting him, and you made that very clear, but Terry made his intentions crystal clear from the beginning. How could you fault him for not wanting what you want? But how he could he also fault you for the change in your attitude?

"Busy?" He repeated the word like it disgusted him. His burning gaze tore through you, you could feel the heat radiating from his glare. Terry let out a heavy breath, gently tapping his fist against the staring wheel as he finally averted his gaze to the windshield. Thank Q!

But as he tore his gaze away from you, you centered yours on him. And why the fuck would you go and do that? Knowing how gorgeous he was, especially when he was pissed off? Clenching and unclenching his jaw. He had some nerve coming over here with a fresh cut. Everything so lined up and sexy—

"I came over here, a few days ago," he sternly spoke, the rough edge to his voice only setting off the throbbing in your pussy, "and you know that 'cause you was home, lights on and shit, I'm textin' you and you reading the shit in real time. What the fuck?" He repeated the three words once again. His voice growing rougher by the second.

"Two weeks ago, I'm fillin' you up and today you actin' cold as hell? Fuck is goin on?"

And why did he keep saying all the wrong shit? Filling you up was an understatement, he was stuffing you to the brim quite literally, to the point where he had bottomed out and was still tryna give you more. Filling you up, ha.

"I can't do this anymore, Terry," the words came out of your mouth abruptly, almost like you could trust yourself to say them. Terry sat there unwavering, he didn't speak, he didn't move. This only prompted you to continue. "It's too much, we both want...different things. And I'm tired of feeling like I'm overextending myself to you, being too available for you. I can't do...whatever this is anymore."

"Pea..”

"Don't do that," you firmly responded. The direct eye contact didn't seem to deter you this time. There he went. Playing those mind games. Calling you that nickname. Pea. A shorter version of the popular nickname your grandfather frequently referred to you as, sweet pea.

Terry kissed his teeth. Oh he thought he knew what was up. It'd became clear as a day. "You fuckin' somebody else." The words came out soft, quiet almost as if there had been a realization.

You let out a heavy sigh, your eyes rolling at the comment, " I'm not having sex with anyone, Terry." You spoke truthfully. As if you could. He made that hard enough, he stuffed you perfectly. He knew how to find that spot inside of you so easily, almost like he vacationed there in his spare time. He knew exactly what made your eyes roll back, what made that squeal in the back of your throat come barreling out, he knew your body too well to let anyone else come and have a gander.

"But I am dating," you said more quietly than you anticipated. Maybe it's because the recent dates haven't been anything to brag about. Not that your online dating profile and messages to your homegirl hadn't been highly specific, you've been attracting the same types. Baby daddies and men way too old to still be trying to just hook up. "And I know what I want, and it's not this...anymore. I wanna be able to climb in bed with a man and wake up beside him too, and not worry about him being hot or cold, or when I'll see him again," yuck. Why did you feel that damn lump in your throat again?

"I'm so tired of feeling disposable." You finalized. Flashing your watery eyes to the window adjacent to you. You weren't gonna cry in front of him. Shit, you weren't that tender. But all your feelings hitting you at once in this situation made you more emotional than you gambled for. You knew the nonchalant facade would only last so long on you. Terry was trained in that shit. He had a poker face like no other.

Terry didn't deter his gaze from you, his gorgeous eyes soft and lingering. "I don't try to make you feel disposable, Pea."

"Yeah, well, you don't have to try. You just do." You mumbled quietly. "That's why I don't wanna do this shit anymore."

Terry kept his eyes on you, reaching his large hand out to grasp your smaller one at a failed attempt at interlacing your fingers when you snatched away.

"Stop, Terry!" You frowned folding your arms. "I'm serious. No more calling, and texting, and popping up at my place."

He barely acknowledged you, kissing his teeth and leaning over the center console to rub his hand across your tummy, gripping your sides. "Why you actin' like that? Like you don't miss daddy?" He mumbled softly, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

This man didn't give up. Your restraint was at zero, and just like that you were putty.

You shook your head, arms still crossed as you let out a small whimper in which you claimed to be a protest. Eyes lowering at his wandering hands. "Hm, you don't miss daddy?" He asked in response, his hand sliding back over your tummy, fingers fondling with the button on your shorts.

This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, that was the whole point of the parking lot. Far away from a bed. But you should've known that you didn't need a bed with Terry.

And yet, just like a dumb bitch you shook your head once again. Playing into his sick little game.

He trailed his soft, teasing lips down your cheek until he reached your neck, leaving a searing trail behind on the skin there. You sucked your bottom lip in, a solid attempt at trying to keep whatever moans he was pulling out of you at bay. You couldn't betray yourself even more than you had already done. You came down here to end things, and instead you were about to get folded in half once again. The circle of life if you will.

"You don't miss me? So why you lettin' me take these off you right now?" He asked. Oh he was soo condescending. He tugged on the bottom of your shorts, and look at you, lifting up to help him earning a chuckle. You were so easy. "Nipples been hard ever since I touched you," he mumbled in between kisses to your neck, his hand busying itself up to your breast while your shorts slid down your legs, rubbing your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your tank top.

You suck in a sharp breath. Your body was on fire. You felt like you were on fire. Every kiss made you hotter, and the way he was touching you had your pussy fluttering. You had to be ovulating, this shit wasn't normal.

"That pussy so wet, I know it," he spoke, his voice lower, lips sucking on the thin flesh on the side of your neck, hand roughly parting your thighs earning another isolated whimper from you. His hand rubbing the inside of your thighs, leaving a lingering tingle behind. He was such a fucking tease sometimes.

He kissed his way back to your cheek, all the while his hands left soft slaps, and grips to your inner thigh. Your eyes fluttered closed at his constant teasing, breathing uneven as hell. You felt like you were swelling with need.

"Look at you, baby," he hummed against your ear, "you a horny fuckin' mess," he tsk'd in your ear, fingers dancing over to your pussy. Fingers lazing dancing over your slit through the thin fabric of your panties. A shaky breath slipped past your lips a soft drawn out moan following. Hell, the betrayal was already done.

"Niggas not treatin' my bitch right, huh?" He rhetorically asked referring to your dates, his own eyes focusing on the lazy dance his fingers were doing on your barely exposed pussy, until he quickly got bored and used those same fingers to move the fabric aside. "Can't be, otherwise you wouldn't be this fuckin' turned on right now." He answered his own questions, fingers immediately doing slow, hypnotizing circles on your clit.

"Fuhhh," you moaned out in response, arms immediately parting so that you could grip onto the sides of your seat for a sense of stability.

"Mhm," he hummed in response, "pussy wet just like I thought," he mumbled dragging his pointer and middle finger up and down your pussy a few times before slowly slipping the both of them in your heated core at once earning a choked out moan from you. You fit around his fingers so perfectly, almost as if he'd molded your pussy to do so.

His brows furrowed as his fingers searched inside of her, knuckle deep, "fuck," he cursed, "look how you suckin' my fingers in you like that. You missed daddy, this fuckin' pussy missed me."

It wasn't like you could respond at all, he was literally pulling your moans out of you with his fingers. His free hand had busied itself with pulling up your tank top and exposing your braless titties.

"Look how you came out here," he kissed his teeth, fingers massaging your slippery insides, the lewd sounds of your pussy squelching on his fingers filled the pickup truck, his other fingers pulling and tugging on your hardened nipples, squeezing softly before quickly pulling away. "Barely fuckin' dressed, you wanted this. You wanted daddy to get you right, huh?"

"Talkin' about' dates, you don't want them fuckin' clowns," he hummed peppering soft kisses on your cheek, his fingers attacking that delicious spot inside of you. "You just want daddy to flood that pussy again? Make you his bitch?"

"Oouu shit, daddy!" You moaned out, eyes squeezing shut as your head lazily fell against his shoulder. Him humming in agreement to your moans followed by a cocky chuckle. "Right there, right there!" You rushed out. Your resolve had slipped away a long time ago.

"Where baby?" He cooed,his tone condescending. "Right here?" He asked his fingers never deterring from the spot, instead he pushed them deeper, faster.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as his fingers continued to work inside of you, he whispered other obscenities to you as he finger fucked you good. Deliciously good. So good that you couldn't decipher or comprehend anything he'd been saying. The sound of your pussy around his fingers was sending you to another bliss you didn't know you could reach.

"Listen to how messy that pussy sound on my fingers, baby," he groaned, his free hand gripping your face firmly, tilting your head up from his shoulder so that he could watch your facial expressions closely. He smiled as he watched you; eyes squeezed shut, lips forming into that familiar frown he knew so well, a long whine following suit.

"Yeah, that pussy wanna cum for daddy don't she?" He asked placing a sloppy kiss on your parted lips.

"Oh my god," you whined your brows furrowing as you opened your watery eyes to Terry looking down right at you.

"Yeah, she do," he mumbled nodding his eyes focusing in on the assault his fingers were doing to your pussy before slipping them out slowly, rubbing the stickiness he accumulated on his fingers onto your clit in slow, agonizing circles earning a whine from you. "You better not fuckin' cum though," he mumbled quietly to you, hand softly tapping against your cheek.

"Don't..cum?" You slurred through a moan for confirmation. You could barely comprehend what he was saying, you were so deliciously close. So close.

"Don't cum," he slapped his finger against your pussy lightly, the wet plaps almost enough to send you over the edge. Only almost though. "Get in the backseat, I wanna get in that pussy." He spoke hand slapping down on your sensitive pussy once again, sending trembles to your already weakened legs.

—

cheers to my first fanfic on here lolz! feedback and criticism always welcome 💗💕 hope you enjoyed xx!

#Spotify #aaron pierre #rebel ridge #terry richmond #fine as fuck #fine black men #black!fem!reader #fanfic #black writers

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c0ffinshit · 3 months ago

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Simon (John Q.) SFW AND NSFW Headcanons

a/n: i knew yall would like that so here are so hcs that i had that i can now share with the world

warnings: controversial, mentions of pussy eating, me speaking my truth

SFW:

okay, first off, this man claims to HATE modern music but… he has a soft spot for Fiona Apple

listen, this man is madddd and if he were a woman he would be a mean butch lesbian

he always drives you everywhere

even when you’re like “babe i can drive its fine” he’s like “no, i’ll drive”

he tells people his favorite movie is something film bro-y like fight club, but his favorite movie is something like little shop of horrors or when harry met sally

sorry im projecting

honestly, he is bad about talking about his emotions like homie doesn't have the words for it so he just gets angry

BUT he learns a lot from you about that

actually, you learn a lot from him too

he talks so highly of you, even before dating

like always talks about how he can hardly have a good and controlled day without you

if you two are a long distance away, he'll always call you and talk about your day

but even then, you two will stay on the phone for hours, just talking about whatever and how much you miss each other

always tries to be a sweet boyfriend and make you breakfast

expect he will burn it and the kitchen will be on fire

i will say this: simon is a sensitive boy, esp with people's emotions like if you're sad and crying about something you called 'stupid' he'll still hold you and tell you how not stupid it is

he HATES when you're upset, esp if he can't do anything to help you

he'll just sadly watch you til you feel better

and when you do, he'll get you your favorite blanket and stuffed animals and kiss you like the good bf. HE. IS.

sorry, my daddy issues are on full display *sobs*

definitely doesn't like it when you call him babygirl or pookie

even as a joke

the man doesn't get that

my man has an old soul IM SO FR

like he doesn’t really like modern TV or music

movies… that a different story

HE FUCKING LOVES MOVIES.

especially if it is like a movie musical or high fantasy (like lotr or hobbit)

maybe a comedy but like a comedy from like the '60s that is probably super offensive now

nfsw under the cut

NSFW:

first off, do i agree with the top allegations for simon? kinda.

listen listen, i only say kinda because of the fact that this man has angry ISSUES

like if you are being a brat, this man doesn’t hold back definitely into spanking for this reason

OKAY I HAVE A THING… when you two do it together, he is very… parental (if that makes sense)

like yes he is daddy we know but like he is the type to whisper “this is for your own good” as he spanks you

two words: BODY. WORSHIP.

this man will kiss and touch your body like it's your last day on earth

AUGH AND AND the look he gives you when he’s inside you FUCKKKKKKK

the look is filled with so much love and gratitude for you okay like this needs to be stated at all but like 8 inches

the type of 8 inches that hits against your cervix in the right way

AND ANOTHER THING when you two first get together, his libido is very low

which also means he is very easy to take care of

soooooo if you wanted to just do a blowjob, you hypothetically could

but then, like three or four months into dating, HORN DOG.

you're surpised when he isn't pressing against your while cuddling

but if anything, you’ll be the one getting head, not him

THIS MAN IS PUSSY WHIPPED.

like he will grab your thighs and pull you closer while eating you out he lovesssss hearing your moans when you're under him UGH

dude but like on the rare time like he will bottom, its lowkey kinda…

JOHN Q IS A SWITCH AND I WILL CONTINUE TO SPEAK MY TRUTH

this mfer groans like no tomorrow when he does bottom

soft,,,, begg…ing

like “you’re so good.” and then under his breath its “please keep going.”

also that boy has a praise kink with hints of degradation

am i saying that because i wrote a whole fic about it? yes. fuck yes.

im chewing at the bars of my enclosure

he gets so blushy when you look at him with your fuck-me eyes

COMMUNICATE WITH THAT BOY.

tell him what you want

tell him where you want it

tell him about your fantasies of him

he loves hearing your voice, especially when you talk in a soft and seductive voice

listen, the only reason i kinda don’t agree with the top allegations is because i believe JOHN Q IS A SERVICE TOP.

i've made my point very clear about that throughout this section

#kyle gallner x reader #kyle gallner #simon dia x reader #dia #dinner in america #john q x reader

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moonlight-starlight-lady01 · 6 months ago

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How...how are you alive?

Kenji sato x Fem! [Different demention] Reader.

☆♡☆♡☆

SUMMARY:Ken had a lover named Y/n, but she had passed away. He was devastated from that. Then 2 years later his mother was declared dead. So he took the opportunity to move to japan and restart his career in his home country. But then something strange happened. There was a exact copy of his lover in his living room. Except she wasnt his y/n. She was different.....from a different demention.

[A/n:Im gonna try and make this into like a series i guess lol]

(Warning: sexual tension, angst, confusion, crying, my cutie ken sad basically the whole story. Y/n has brown eyes & brown hair[ya know bc shes from a different demention]<tell me if i missed any>)

Pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5.

♡♡♡♡

It was different. Sad. Not like what he had thought his life would feel like. Y/n had died 2 years ago because of cancer. He remembers her blue eyes sparkling like the ocean when the sun began to rise from the night sky. Her blonde hair swaying in the wind perfectly all fluffy and soft. Her plumped lips smiling showing her pearly white teeth. Her dress would be thigh length and sway in the wind so majestically. Her sweet voice would say the most beautiful things when she spoke. But then....her eyes became dried cracked wholes in her head. Her hair began to fall out and become like straw. Her smile started to turn into a signature line. Her voice started to sound ruff and hard. But one thing never changed. How much she loved Kenji. Everytime she saw him walk into her hospital room with the signature red roses and smiling happy to see her fiancé. But then it all ended with that one last beep on the monitor. After that he didnt want to find love ever again. It hurt to much. The sound of her laughter when they would cuddle and tickle each other. Or when they would wake up with each other in bed and stay there all day. It wouldn't be the same.

Then 2 years after that his mom was declared dead. Something snapped in him. He moved to japan to restart his career and forget about everything that wanted to make him cry all day.

So now he was on his way to play basbell. The Giants. Fight as Ultra man. And restart. But how he had asked to please make the pain stop to anything that could have the power to. Anything.

That was until he woke up to a crashing in his living room and a female screaming.

He had grabbed his baseball bat and tip toed to the sound. It was a girl. A women. She turned around and looked at him scared.

It was Y/n.

But it wasn't her exactly....She has brown hair and brown eyes. Probably taller than her and more plump in some areas...*ahem*.

"(Y/n?)"

She looked even more confused. "Uh, yes" she said uncertain. "Who are you and why the fuck am i here?"

He was in shock. Why was there someone that looked like his y/n but so so different. Plus his y/n never cussed. The only bad word he ever heard her say was crap. And she said fuck like shes used to saying it.

"W-Wait, you dont know me?" Kenji asked confused. He waited for her answer. ".....nooo?"

Fuck. What the fuck. How is this possible.

But, after some time. He learned that Y/n was 22 and was living in California. She worked at a cafe and book store to make ends meat. She was the complete opposite to what y/n was like. She didn't even have the same color at all like her. Brown hair, brown eyes, playful/sassy attitude and less innocent.

"Well, can you help me get to my home demention because like ya know, im not suppose to be in this one?"

Damn. She's right. She has to go home sometime. He looks at her thinking.

"Plus, everytime you look at me your litterely burning holes into my ass and tits"

Yep she definitely not his Y/n. How will this go now. His life is already a mess to began with...

♡♡♡♡

#kenji sato x reader #ken sato #ken sato x reader #ultraman #ultraman 2024

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hoshizoralone · 20 days ago

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a post where i separate every woman in smash by how i would categorize them in relation to samus if she had a dating sim and they had to be assigned a character type (that im saving here in case i ever want to go back to think about this) . and other samus & smash girls shipping thoughts

firstly i originally posted this on bluesky so if you’re not following me there.. go do that!! @hoshizoralone.bsky.social

explanations for the tropes are as follows:

childhood friend - palutena (kid icarus and metroid game overlaps of which there are many. like come on man... this is a nobrainer)

energetic cute girls - peach/daisy/pyra (daisy is jock leaning)

jocks - wii fit trainer/alex/mythra

mysterious transfer student - sheik/mii gunner/rosalina/lucina (though samus is not in school. but i'm not sure how else to explain this trope. maybe just "mysterious character")

the love interest that openly flirts with the mc - bayonetta

(varying degrees of) nerds, the smart girls - byleth/robin/zelda/isabelle (like lets say they were put into a scenario with samus. they would be the brains of the operation. robin would have had the adam stuff in dread solved immediately)

i don't care - corrin (i really tried to think of what trope she could be but i don't even imagine samus would like her)

not viable (teenagers). these two become a background couple - min-min/leaf (well, i had thought this, but after making the post on bluesky someone told me leaf’s canon age is 11. i had thought she was nebulously teenaged…. so either age her up here, or forget this tier exists)

not viable (babies) - villagers/inklings/wendy/nana

i do think the idea of creating a sim revolving around samus would be fun, only issue is the pression has truly kicked my ass this year and i really am all out of writing ability. i have two other games already sitting in my drafts half finished…

it could make for a fun rom hack though. Maybe instead of the chozo giving you power ups its the other girls . And at the end you have to Save The Girls not the animals. Someone make that happen.

~~~~

the above isnt arranged by how much i ship it but the below is. imagine gandrayda (of metroid prime 3 fame) right under samus and then a massive powergap and then the rest of the chart:

two professional girlfailures are facing off head to head in this 500 chapter slow burn sam/palu fanfiction - palutena (palutena is a girlfailure at everything but samus only falls into that category for women. it would be an extremely long time for samus to realize palutena likes her . could they make it work when they're both so busy? read my nonexistent fic to find out)

samus has a one sided crush - peach/rosalina/wii fit trainer. (samus will never confess. peach has mario and samus isnt messing w that. samus thinks she's not cool enough for rosalina. wft is already in a relationship consult the lone wii fit trainer lore)

(in my head samus’s one sided crushes are justified like this:

peach - she is literally so pretty it’s blinding. peak femininity is making samus short circuit

rosalina - parentless lady from space who has been left alone/feels lonely resonates hard

wft - she gives constant positive feedback which i think samus is starved to hear)

i used to love sam/bayo but bayo3 sucked so i kinda dont care about it anymore - bayonetta. sad day.

one sided crush on samus - alex/robin/zelda/lucina

samus-neutral - sheik/byleth/isabelle/gunner/pymythra/daisy/corrin. (they probably wouldnt pass up the opportunity to kiss samus if given one but they're not having their thoughts occupied by her)

one sided childhood crush (thinks she's cool) (not reciprocated) - min-min (samus is sort of like a celebrity. it's sort of like having a crush on zac efron when hes 18 and youre 7)

i consider samus in her 30s so every teenager and baby who doesn't have a cute unreciprocated crush is out of the running - leaf/villagers/inklings/nana/wendy

someone had asked… where’s dark samus. for me as one of the five samus x gandrayda shippers, i think if there was a dating sim and dark samus was in it samus would immediately halt the events of the dating sim to go hunt her down as repayment for everything + the whole killing her girlfriend thing. like she cant exist in this world.

the only other samus thing i ship that isn’t mentioned here already is samus x cortana. it could be cute. i do Naut ship her with any guys. lesbian samus for life

aside from samus x gandrayda which will probably always be my ride or die ship, i think the ship with the most interesting stuff to explore is samus/palutena… they aren’t alike characterwise at all, but it’s just that their series are linked in a metatextual sense, so its fun to imagine them together. in a “we’ve been hanging around each other for a while!” kind of way. well, opposites attract..

anyways that was my post. If you read this and have thoughts let me know. Maybe i’ll draw some stuff in my freetime. Cool thanks love ya bye.

#save tag #i dont wanna tag this but its gonna show up in that tumblr search function anyways right. whatever

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kzrosa-writes · 1 month ago

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remnants of a lost love for a ghost | dottore x reader

prompt: after four hundred years, you are reunited with your past lover, except he wasn't the same person you used to know

notes: angst, no happy ending, mentions of blood and swords, mentions of death n killing each other, dottore is an emotional mess, aether is the traveler, more angst

a/n: this has been in my drafts for almost a month... i am proud to say i finally finished it! im such a softy for dottore so it was hard to write something so sad for him 😭💔

word count: 6k

Dottore had never been one to fall in love. He always had his priorities straight: his experiments, his role as the Second Fatui Harbinger, and his pursuit of knowledge. Everyone knew Dottore as the cold-hearted, cruel and apathetic Second Harbinger, a man who values the results of his atrocious, unethical experiments over the lives of humans.

Yet, he found himself frozen in place as he stood before you, the only person he had ever loved. You held yourself with grace and confidence, striding towards him from across the snowy lands of Snezhnaya. You held your sword firmly in your right hand, the tip of the metal grazing against the ground below you with each step you took. An old memory from his past, his lover during his time in the Sumeru Akademiya, was now standing right in front of his very eyes.

Y/N L/N... You were known as the prodigious traveller who fought alongside the legendary traveller Aether — you were the Fatui's most formidable enemy, and the very person that he was meant to fight and kill.

Dottore could feel his chest tighten at the sight of you. It had been over four centuries since he had last heard of or seen you after he had been expelled from the Akademiya for his immoral and unethical experiments. You still looked as beautiful as he remembered all those centuries ago, although much has changed about you. Your once-pristine skin was now decorated with scratches and battle scars, a reminder of the battles you had fought and a reminder of how you got to where you were now. You now adorned a black rose insignia on your waist, a mark that signified your affiliation with the Fatui's most formidable rival organisation.

However, what didn't change was the burning sparks of determination and resolution in your eyes. It was something he could never forget, no matter how many times he tried to forget about you. His eyes lingered all over your figure, his gaze landing on a flower in your hair. It was a Kalpalata Lotus, the very flower Dottore had gifted you during your days in the Akademiya. He still remembered the ebullient smile on your face, how effervescent you had been when he had gifted you the flower. He still remembered all the hours he had spent perfecting the preservation process, ensuring that the flower was perfect, just for you.

He had to hold himself back, to resist the tantalising urge to reach out to you and hold you in his arms again. Oh, how he missed the feel of your skin against his own, your warmth seeping into his heart like the old days. But things weren’t the same anymore. He had to remind himself that you weren’t the same person he used to know and that things have changed throughout the past few centuries. He held his breath, attempting to rein in his emotions.

"Y/N..." Dottore called out, his voice betraying the pain in his heart.

You took a few stops closer, your grip on your sword still firm. "Second Harbinger of Snezhnaya... Il Dottore."

He felt his heart shatter into pieces at the sound of your voice calling out to him by his Harbinger title, your tone cold and apathetic. He desperately wanted to break free from his emotions and the restraints of his title, to throw himself into your arms after all these years, but he couldn't.

With a firm step forward, Dottore spoke again, his voice trembling in the slightest. "Y/N... It has been so long. Do you... still remember me?”

The twitch of confusion in your eyes was more than inconspicuous to Dottore. He felt his heart ache with vigour at the lack of recognition from you. Have you forgotten about him? All those years you had spent together in the Akademiya... did they all mean nothing to you? Was his love for you all in vain?

"We... We used to go to the Akademiya together!" Dottore said, his voice cracking in the slightest. "Don't you... Don't you remember?”

At this point, Dottore was desperate for you to remember anything, even if it were the bad memories. It pained him to see how clueless and indifferent you were, how oblivious you were to the anguish and distress in front of you.

Your gaze hardened into one of apathy. "I don't remember attending the Akademiya with a psychopathic heretic."

As the words slipped right out of your mouth, your eyes widened with realisation, as if a memory had been unlocked from within.

“W-Wait.”

Dottore felt his heart being torn apart. He let out a bitter chuckle as he felt your words stabbing into his heart like a knife. Of course, you had remembered him as the heretic of the Akademiya, just as everyone else in the Akademiya had remembered him as the heretic who performed unethical, immoral and dangerous research and experiments, all in the name of science, and to satiate his naive curiosity.

Your breath was now caught in your throat, coming out in ragged and laboured exhales. You shook your head as if you were trying to deny the reality in front of you.

"N-No... This can't be..." The sword that was in your hands was now trembling with uncertainty. "...Zandik."

There it was: Zandik, his real name, one that meant 'heretic'. He couldn't hold back a bitter scoff at the sound of his old name, a name he had tried so desperately to forget, along with the painful memories of his past.

Despite those painful memories, he can never truly forget the memories and times he spent together with you. The memories of your shared time in the Akademiya were now playing like a montage in his head; the images and memories of laughing together, studying in the library together and working on projects, talking about your favourite academic theories and philosophies... He remembered how close the two of you were, how he could make you laugh easily, the lunch breaks you two spent together by the lush field in Sumeru, and the jokes you shared. He remembered the evenings you spent together by his side while picking flowers in the forest, the soft whispers of love and comfort shared with each other, or the stolen kisses in the dimly lit corridors of the Akademiya... how could he ever forget those memories? His heart longed for those days again, when life was much simpler and when all they had to stress about was deadlines.

Now that he was finally in front of you after all those years, he was unsure of what to do. Dottore was on the verge of breaking into tears, his heart swelling with longing and despair at the sight of your disbelief. With shaky hands, he slowly reached for his mask before hesitantly taking it off, revealing his crimson scarlet orbs — a sight you could never forget despite all the years that had passed.

He slowly took a step forward, trying his best not to scare you away. He had to be closer to you to convince himself that you were really there and not just a hallucination. He wanted to say so many things, mutter many apologies, beg for your forgiveness… but nothing could escape his lips.

It took all his willpower and strength not to succumb to his own desires and longing to reach out to you and break down. Rather, he just stood there, staring back at you with a mixture of hope and despair, two opposites of the same spectrum. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he was about to ask of you.

“Y/N… Do you… Do you still have any feelings for me..?”

Your eyes widened in shock, your breath hitching and your grip on your sword tightening more than ever from his unexpected question. You stood frozen in place, unable to move or respond. You had no idea how you were supposed to respond to such a question, especially after finding out that your very enemy and opponent… was the very man you used to love deeply with all your heart and soul. The Fatui Harbinger who had been trying to stop you… was your old lover.

“I-It's… It's been too long.. Zandik. We haven't seen each other… ever since you'd been expelled.”

He closed his eyes shut for a moment, recalling the painful and bitter memories of being expelled and thrown out of the Akademiya, shunned and mocked by everyone. He recalled the feeling of being torn apart, the day he lost everything… including you. It was a day he could never forget, regardless of how much he wanted to. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes, taking one more step further.

“Indeed… It’s been way too long…” He repeated your words, his voice close to a mumble.

He could almost feel how tense you were, how vulnerable and distraught you were. He knew that this was the best opportunity to strike, to end her, to get his mission over with. But no matter how much he screamed at himself to go through with the plan… he couldn't find it in him to do so. He couldn't help himself, he wanted — no, needed — to know your answer. He had to.

“Please, Y/N…” He swallowed anxiously, trying to rein in his emotions. “...Do you still feel anything for me?”

“Are you asking me this as Dottore… or Zandik?”

Dottore's body froze in shock, the question catching him completely off guard. And yet, it was probably the most sensible thing you could ask him. After all, it had been several centuries since you had last seen him. He had changed, and you had too. You knew him as two entirely different people, and he could understand that.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, hesitantly slightly before replying, “I'm asking you this… as Zandik.”

He knew that this was risky, that his reputation and role as a Fatui Harbinger could be jeopardised by letting his guard down in front of the enemy, but he couldn't care less about the consequences.

You, on the other hand, felt your chest tighten at his words. Your throat was tight, feeling a lump preventing you from breathing properly. Your grip on your sword slowly loosened, your hands trembling ever so slightly.

“I… I do.”

That was it. His heart stopped in his chest at the sound of those two words, your confirmation. Such a simple response, yet it carries so much meaning. It carried all the dreams and fantasies he had always imagined for the past four centuries… It was everything he could have hoped for. And yet, a wave of overwhelming emotions crashed through him like a violent tide in a stormy sea. Just like raging waters, Dottore was suffering an internal maelstrom of relief, joy, hope and desperation. He couldn't believe it. Centuries of desperate longing, of missing you, of mourning your loss in his life… and you were finally here, right in front of him.

He could feel himself slowly moving towards you, his movements in deliberate and shaky steps. It was absolutely excruciating to be so close to you, yet so far. He couldn't help himself, he needed to hold you in his arms again.

But that all came crashing down when he saw you back away, watching you as your grip on your sword trembled with overwhelming shock.

“P-Please…” You begged, your eyes glistening with sorrow and anguish. “..D-Don't.”

He stopped in his tracks, watching you as you backed away. It broke his heart to see that reaction from you, to see how you were clearly struggling to cope with everything. But at the same time, he could hear the desperation in your voice, the plea for him to stay where he was. Somehow… that gave him a small, miniscule amount of hope. He knew that this wasn't going to be an easy conversation, that this would take a lot of courage and strength from the both of you… but he was willing to do it. Anything for you.

He took a deep breath, trying to study himself before speaking again, trying his best to stay grounded and not let his desperation and longing for you show too much.

“Say it again, Y/N. Say it again without any fear, any doubt or any hesitation. Say those words again, and I promise I won't take another step closer to you.” He said, his voice trembling with each word. “Please, Y/N… I need to hear you say it again.”

You exhale shakily, your grip on your sword slowly becoming firmer.

“I… I still love you, Zandik.” You clenched your fist wrapped around the hilt of your sword, your breathing still erratic. “...But you're not Zandik anymore, aren't you?”

His heart clenched when he heard your words, the flicker of hope slowly dying out. It was almost too good to be true. He almost had it, everything he truly wanted, and yet… he knew you were right. He wasn't the same man he used to be in the Akademiya.

“You're… correct.” His voice was soft, almost inaudible. “I'm not Zandik anymore.”

There was no denying it. He was an entirely different person now, and the moments and memories you had shared were too far in the past, so many centuries ago. And yet, the fact that you still felt something for him and confessed your love to him despite all those years apart… he couldn't deny that he still had hope. The fact that you still loved him after all this time, the fact that you hadn't let go of the love you had for him… that was all he cared about in this moment.

Dottore could feel his heart clench and palpitate, his chest tightening with a mixture of love, hope, guilt and desperation. He missed you so much; he missed everything about you, from your voice to your touch to your scent. He missed the times he'd spent with his arms wrapped around you in the forest as you basked in the glory of nature during your midnight rendezvous in your favourite spot of the forest, enjoying each other's presence and warmth in the cold, chilly night air. All he wanted was to hear you say those words again. Those three words, so simple and so short yet carrying such a heavy meaning. All he wanted was to hear that it was him you loved, and not just his former self.

“Please… tell me again. Tell me that you still love me, and not Zandik. I need to hear you say it.” His voice was close to an anguished whisper, a desperate plea. “I need to know that it's me that you feel something for… and not just a memory of someone that no longer exists.”

“I… I can't do that.”

Dottore could feel his heart slowly break apart from your words. A part of him had been hoping, foolishly hoping, that even after all these years, after all the atrocities he had committed as a naive scholar and a Harbinger, you would still feel some sort of affection for him. He couldn't bring himself to speak, his heart swelling with pain and desperation.

“...Why…?”

His words came out as a broken whisper as he felt the resolve and hope in his heart slowly fade away. You still loved Zandik, the old him, the person he used to be all those centuries ago. But somehow, there had still been a part of him that had foolishly hoped that your feelings for him would still be the same after all this time. He was terrified, absolutely petrified, of your answer. He knew that your answer might break him for good, but he had to know the truth.

“I still love you, Zandik… I really still do.” You said softly, your voice was wavering with pain and sincerity.

Dottore could feel his heart swelling with hope and longing, his mind racing with anticipation. Perhaps, just somehow, he hoped that you were willing to embrace his new identity.

Your hands were trembling terribly to the point you dropped your sword, the hilt of the blade knocking onto your foot. You felt your chest tighten and the air in your lungs slowly getting sucked out, holding back an anguished cry. Your lips were wobbling and your eyes were watery, beady crystals threatening to spill loose. Despite this, you managed to voice out in a choked whisper.

“Because… you're no longer the man I used to love.”

He knew he had been foolish to hope that maybe, just maybe, you would be able to accept him and embrace his new identity. But there it was, the confirmation he desperately looked for. Your words shattered his heart into pieces, ripping his soul apart with no way of mending it. He had the confirmation he was looking for about how you felt about him, that what you felt was just love for a man that ceased to exist.

“...And you cannot love the man I am now?”

Dottore’s voice was raw, weak and almost pleading. There was a hint of desperation in his words, as if he was praying that there could be an actual chance that you could still feel something for him, regardless of who he was now. That tiny sliver of hope that ached in the remnants of his shattered heart still flickered and burned passionately. But deep down, he knew you wouldn't, he knew that it wasn't possible. And yet, he still chose to ask that question, a question that could crush his soul further.

“I-I… I don't know.”

A bitter scoff broke the dreadful silence that loomed in the air. He knew what your answer was. He knew deep down that you would never, and could never love the person he was now, no matter how hard you tried. He knew that you loved a ghost, someone who no longer existed in this cruel world. He let out another sharp laugh, a laugh filled with bitterness and harshness.

“Of course. Of course you can't. I would expect you to love someone… like me.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. It was all he could do to keep his composure without showing you the immense pain he was feeling inside. He had been too foolish to hope that there was even the slightest possibility for you to love him, even if it was just a few sparks of affection, despite the person he had become.

You wanted to say something, to retaliate and to tell him otherwise… but you couldn't. Nothing could escape from your lips. You stood there, trembling and shaking, as a single bead of water escaped your lids. You clenched your fist, forcing yourself to not break down. Especially not… not in front of Il Dottore, the Second Fatui Harbinger… and the person you were meant to end.

“...I-I don't know how am I supposed to kill you now.”

Dottore's eyes widened slightly at your words, noticing how your voice was shaky and uncertain. He could see that you were struggling to maintain your composure, how your eyes were watery as if you were on the verge of tears.

“...And why? What's… holding you back?” Dottore took a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours, his chest aching with pain, and a small flicker of hope.” “Why are you so hesitant to kill me?”

You took a step back, more tears spilling. “Stop.” Your voice was shaky, coming out almost as a plea. “Don't move closer, please.”

The sound of your voice saying those words, so desperate and so shaky, caused his chest to ache and tighten further. He stopped in his tracks, watching you keenly as you struggled to hold back your tears. Dottore swallowed hard, trying to pull himself together.

“Why?” He prodded, still staying in place. “Why can't I come closer to you?”

His voice wobbled slightly, his chest aching with a strange mixture of pain and hope. He wanted to be closer to you, to hold you in his arms as he basked in your presence, but he didn't dare to make a move, not while he could see the look of uncertainty in your eyes.

“I…” You swallowed anxiously, uncertainty written all over your face. “...I can't do this, Zandik.”

Dottore winced at the sound of his old, former name, yet a small part of him ached to hear it again. He wanted to hear you say his name, the name he went by now. He wanted you to know him, not the ghost of a man who had long disappeared from this world. He took another shaky breath, trying to keep his voice steady as he spoke.

“Please… don't call me that…”

You clenched your fists, shaking away the tears that stained your face. Your expressions changed from despair to one of apathy, the sparks in your eyes slowly dying down before being extinguished.

“I can't do this… Dottore.”

Your tone was cold and harsh, devoid of any remaining emotion left inside of you.

Dottore's heart twisted inside his chest at the sudden change in your mood and tone, the use of his Harbinger name sounding almost… resentful. It was almost as if you had shut down every single emotion from your body all at once. He watched as you swiftly picked up your sword from the ground, your grip tightening on the hilt. He had no doubt that if he were to come any closer towards you, you'd attempt to slice off his head without a moment of hesitation.

Dottore didn't speak. Instead, he watched you silently as his chest ached from the complete change in demeanour. He couldn't help but miss the moments before, the glimpse of your vulnerability, and the flicker of emotions in your eyes. But now… you were everything but that.

“What do you intend to do now…?” Dottore asked, his voice hesitant. He knew that he was only digging himself a deeper grave, but he could stop himself from trying his luck further and further.

Your fingers trembled as you held the hilt of your blade, your voice soft and uncertain. “...I don't know.”

Dottore could hear the uncertainty in your voice, your inner turmoil evident. That almost let him fill his heart with hope again. Almost. But that cold, harsh tone and the apathy in your expressions held him back. He hated it. He absolutely loathed it. Dottore took a small step forward, ignoring the way your body tensed at his actions.

“What does that mean..?” His voice dropped to a low whisper. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he was desperate for anything.

“I… I can't bring myself to draw my sword onto you.”

Dottore’s eyes widened slightly at your reply, his heart warming up for a small flicker of hope. You couldn't bring yourself to draw your sword on him… perhaps there was still a chance. He took another step forward, the distance slowly closing between you two.

“...Is that so?”

“Don't move any closer.” You said — rather, you commanded. Your voice was firmer and louder, any sign of hesitation completely vanished. You raised your sword in the slightest out of instinct, but something was holding you back.

Dottore watched warily as you lifted your sword, noticing your hesitation. He took another small step forward, trying to keep his emotions in check. “And why should I stop…?”

“Please, Dottore.” You begged, desperation evident in your voice. “Don't.”

He stayed in his place, keenly observing your conflicted expressions. “Why not, Y/N?”

He knew he was pushing it, but he couldn't care less about anything else at this moment. All he wanted was you, to have you back in his life again, to have you in his arms. But your next words hit him hard, the cold and harsh reality of the situation slapping him like a hard brick.

“I'm supposed to kill you, Dottore.”

Dottore grimaced slightly, your words cutting through him like a knife to the heart. Of course, he knew this. He was fully aware that they were still enemies regardless of their past, and that they both had a duty to fulfil. But to hear you say it so coldly, so bluntly… It still hurts.

He let out a soft chuckle, one filled with resignation. “...That's right. You're… You're supposed to.”

Despite knowing this, he couldn't stop himself. You were his enemy, the very person he was supposed to kill. He had to end your life, to take away your soul from this world, and you would have to do the same. Regardless, he still yearned for you, for what you used to share. The thought of you trying to slice his head off pained him immensely, causing his thoughts to swim in an endless sea of despair.

“Then… What is stopping you?” He prodded further, taking another step forward. He was now only a few inches away from you, and he didn't miss the way you flinched fearfully at the proximity.

“I… I can't.” You finally managed to speak, your voice a choked whisper. Your grip on your sword tightened to the point your knuckles were stained white. Apathy and indifference were painted all over your face, your eyes lacking their usual spark.

Dottore stayed silent, his heart and mind racing frantically. Hearing your hesitance rekindled the sparks of his hope in his heart that had been hastily extinguished, with hopes that they would flicker and burn into a bright fire of passion. You said you couldn't kill him, but why? Why couldn't you do it? That gave him hope. Your hesitance gave him the hope he had desperately prayed for, the hope that you still had some feelings for him despite everything.

“...Why not? Why can't you kill me?”

“Don't test your luck, Harbinger of Snezhnaya.”

Your voice came out in a harsh, yet firm command, your eyes showing a flicker of anger. Your emotions were all swirled up together, and you were unable to discern between how you truly felt.

Dottore chuckled faintly, a weak grin on his face. He knew you were close to snapping, but he had to try. He had to see how much he could push you before you broke before him, and he had to do everything he could just for a chance.

“Test my luck? No need. I already know you still care for me.” His voice was firm as he took another step forward to him, your shoes touching.

You took a step backwards, your breath hitching as you clutched onto your sword.

“Stop it.”

“Why should I? After all, you're hesitating to kill me. You care, don't you? I know you still care, Y/N.”

He watched as your eyes twitched slightly, as if you were in an inner state of turmoil. He knew you, he knew you were torn between your duty to eliminate him as his enemy and your lingering feelings for him. He knew he should stop… but he couldn't.

He walked closer towards you, his gaze firm as he locked eyes with you. “You're frustrated, aren't you? You want to fulfil your duty and hurt me… but you can't bring yourself to do it, can you?”

You gritted your teeth, taking more steps backwards. Dottore could hear the soft scraping of metal from your blade as you dragged it against the floor, your eyes staring back at him with a sharp, intimidating glare.

“What's wrong?” He taunted. “Why are you backing away from me?”

Finally, you felt your self-control snap. Every vulnerable emotion you had pent up inside of you completely dried up, leaving only anger and resentment.

You drew your blade to his throat, your stance firm. Your eyes were cold and devoid, as if you were a completely different person.

“Stop it, Harbinger of Snezhnaya.”

Dottore let out a soft exhale, his eyes widening slightly as he felt the cold tip of your blade prodding at his throat, a reminder of the situation and predicament you both were in. The deadly look in your eyes caused him to wince slightly, dreading how different you became after everything. You radiated a dangerous aura, absolutely merciless and angry.

“...And what if I don't?”

He felt the tremor of the blade on his neck, a clear sign of your uncertainty. He knew he was walking on thin ice, but he knew he was close. Just a little bit more…

“I could end your very life right now, Dottore.”

Your words were firm and sharp, like a cold blade close to piercing him. You felt a bitter taste in your mouth every time you spoke his Harbinger name, a constant reminder that he wasn't the same person he used to be. He wasn't the naive scholar of the Akademiya, but the merciless, cold-hearted Second Fatui Harbinger, although he seemed anything but that in that moment.

“Come on… Why are you hesitating?” Dottore continued to taunt you, trying to gauge a reaction out of you. “I'm your enemy. You're supposed to kill me.”

You clenched your jaw, pressing the tip of the blade further onto his throat. You watched as tiny beads of red liquid trickled down his neck, his shirt stained with his own blood.

He hissed sharply as he felt the cold edge of the blade press onto his skin. He knew that he was crossing the line, but he was too far gone now. All he could do now was gamble everything away. From now on, it was all or nothing.

“...Then why aren't you doing it?”

Deep inside, he was starting to wonder if you would go through with it. You had everything set up: the blade against his throat, him in a vulnerable state, and authority over him. But in his heart, he still had hope. Dottore still had hope in you, that you would spare him and slowly accept how things were.

His hope and happiness were ephemeral, shattering and crashing almost as fast as it was formed when you bit back a sharp cry and shut your eyes as you slashed your sword on his shoulder. You dropped the blade, hand trembling from the aftershock.

Dottore had expected this, but he didn't expect the sharp sting that suddenly flared in his shoulder, causing him to gasp in agony. He exhaled sharply, his anticipation replaced with a wave of pain and hurt.

He gritted his teeth as he tried to ignore the stinging pain in his shoulders, letting out a shaky chuckle. “There… You did it, Y/N. You've injured me… So why haven't you killed me yet?”

“God damn it, will you stop?!”

Your sudden scream was sharp and piercing, catching Dottore off guard with your outburst. You clenched your jaw in anger, trying to maintain your composure. You kicked your sword that you had dropped away.

You exhaled sharply as you turned around. You slowly walked away from him, before turning back to face him once more.

“...Don't make me regret killing you… when I had the chance.”

Your words and tone were bitter and harsh, filled with resentment and apathy. You looked at him for the very last time, looked at the ghost of a man you once loved, and looked at ‘Zandik’ for the very last time before walking away. You held your breath, trying to bite back the tears that were desperately threatening to spill.

Dottore was shocked by your sudden words, taken aback by your bitter and harsh tone. He watched as you turned away, walking further away from him. Each step you took felt like a stab through his heart, bleeding with his agony and despair. The sight of you walking away hurt more than the deep scar you left on his shoulder.

He wanted to call you back, to stop you from leaving, but he knew any attempts would be futile. He tried to obviate the need to call out to you, to reach out and stop you from leaving, but his heart swelled with sorrow and regret. Instead, he stood there, watching you walk further and further away, leaving him with a feeling of emptiness and hopelessness.

He felt like his heart was being torn apart, ripped and shredded into pieces. He could see in your eyes that you still cared for him, even if it was just a little. He was thankful, truly thankful, that you had spared his life… but he knew that this decision of yours would forever haunt him until the days of his passing.

He struggled to keep his emotions buried away, to hide them away. But seeing you walk away like that… he felt a drop of water drip down his chin, followed by another. Soon enough, an incessant stream of tears cascaded down his cheeks, dampening his shirt. He felt his shirt being ensanguined with his own blood, the wound caused by your blade crying out with tears of blood.

With that, all his defences slipped away as he dropped to his knees, his vision blurred and his eyes watery. It was absolutely agonising, almost soul-crushing, to accept that you had walked away and left him for good. Dottore felt his body and soul overwhelmed with the feeling of helplessness and sadness, almost unbearable. He had lost you, his everything, and he had no one to blame for it… but himself.

He sat on the ground, his body shaking with silent sobs as he allowed himself to break down and lose himself in agony and despair. He had never felt this way before, completely alone and utterly heartbroken… it was killing him inside. He had lost you, the only person he genuinely cared about, the very person he had been trying to keep himself alive for, the only person… he truly loved.

Amid his breakdown, he happened to catch a glimpse of a silver-blue object on the ground, lying just a few meters away from a shiny metal on the ground, presumably your blade that you had discarded. Clearing his blurry vision, he gazed at the object, and his heart broke and shattered further.

It was the preserved Kalpalata Lotus he had gifted you.

Dottore froze, his eyes widening in disbelief as he saw the Kalpalata Lotus lying on the ground near your discarded sword. He felt another wave of overwhelming pain and heartbreak wash over him, his heart clenching further at the sight of the flower. It was a painful and gut-wrenching reminder that he had truly lost you.

He crawled on the ground, picking up the flower in his trembling hands, holding it delicately as if it was something precious and fragile — which it was. Dottore slowly lifted the flower to eye level, studying it as if he were trying to ingrain it into his memory. He noted the smallest, little details about the flower — the blue petals, the silver veins and its delicate shape. It was all too familiar, all too painful, all too much.

A fresh wave of tears spilt down his cheeks as he held onto the flower like it was his lifeline, the only thing anchoring him from this pain, the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart.

Dottore clutched onto the flower in his hand, the memories of you flooding his mind like a violent stream, each one more painful than the last. The thought of never seeing you again, never talking to you again, never holding you again… it was too much for him to bear.

Dottore knew that he was destined to fall like this. He wasn't the strong, cold-hearted, and merciless Second Fatui Harbinger right now. Instead, he was the young, naive scholar from the Akademiya again. The man you used to love… the person you loved with your whole heart and soul. Right now, he was Zandik, not Il Dottore. In this moment, he was the heartbroken, young boy who had experienced the pain of losing the very person he loved all over again, just like four hundred years ago.

— masterlist ・ navi ・ request rules

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icallhimjoey · 3 months ago

Note

okay so what if for once joe was the drama queen cos he’s Big Mad over some stuff…how would that play out

this guy's a whole idiot, im not sure i like him all that much... Wordcount: 2.3K

---

I Prefer The Moon Anyway

“I’m sorry...”

If someone asked you without Joe in the room, you’d tell them Joe was being an unreasonable little bitch boy.

“I said I’m sorry.”

But Joe is right there, ignoring you, and you’re apologising just to apologise. You know he wants to hear it, so you’re giving him the words, even if they’re empty.

“I heard you.” Joe’s remark is cold. He can tell you don’t mean it. That you are just avoiding a fight. He doesn’t blame you, he wants a fight even less than you, but you’re annoying him in a way he doesn’t have the words for.

If someone was to ask him without you in the room, he’d tell them this is the exact point of a relationship at which he’d usually turn into stone. This is where he grows numb. Cares less. Starts to protect himself in silence and prepares for the inevitable break up that’s coming.

The beginning of the end.

“But what do you want me to do?” you ask, sounding a little more desperate and helpless than you want, but you can’t help it. Joe’s asking something ridiculously unreasonable. Something you can’t give him. Don’t want to give him. It doesn’t help that you think he’s actually being a dramatic baby who feels like he’s not gotten enough attention. A coddled man who wants the whole world to bend to his needs.

Joe just shrugs. Knows exactly what he wants you to do.

And to be fair, the world has bent to his needs for ages, so who is to blame him for expecting you to do the same?

Joe’s pouting.

He looks like a child who’s overdoing a sad face to get a little empathy from his classmates. Like the kids all across the playground need to see that he’s hurt. Like he needs to guilt-trip them into giving him the toy that he allegedly saw first so he stops crying and they can all be friends again.

You fucking hate it.

“Can you hear yourself, though?” you try for some logic. For some critical thinking skills. Does he see, in the grand scheme of things, how utterly ridiculous he’s being?

Joe shrugs again, but this time it’s conspicuously uninvolved. Like he doesn’t give a single shit about how unreasonable he’s being. He’s gone from acting like you’re burning down the whole world to suddenly acting like he’d rather live on the moon anyway. Burn it, bitch. Whatever. He couldn’t care less.

He won’t reach out to touch you tonight. He’s going to break your one rule if you keep this up. All because of schedules that never seem to coordinate – something that’s neither his fault or yours.

“I sure can. Can you?” Joe bites back, wants to hear a sincere apology from you. He wants to hear in your voice that he’s right and that he’s not selfish for wanting what he wants. For feeling the way he feels. Not his fault he loves you.

That’s what he’ll bring it back to – always.

He just loves you a lot.

How can you hate him for that, Big Wet Brown Sad Eyes™? Hmm?

Which... it’s so unfair.

And selfish.

He wants you to drop everything at a moment’s notice because he needs you right now. Doesn’t give a shit about what you need.

It’s fucking selfish, is what it is.

And the problem is that Joe’s selfishness is exactly what’s put you where you are now, in his living room, in a weird fight that you would both rather not be a part of.

“Please repeat what you’re asking of me.” You narrow your eyes at him as you look over your shoulder, convinced that he knows he’s wrong and that he should be the one apologising to you.

“Is it too much to ask of my girlfriend to spend time with me?”

You sigh. You’re so frustrated. That’s not what he’s asking of you - that’s what he’s dressing it up as, which is unfair. What Joe’s asking is for you to drop your work at a moment’s notice because he’s suddenly found an evening off in his schedule and he decided he wants to spend it with you. But he hasn’t actually checked to see if you have the time. Just assumed that you did.

A risky assumption to make.

Because you don’t.

“You know I barely get any time to myself, I don’t know when I’ll have a night off next... could be weeks.” Joe places both hands on your shoulders to give you a little squeeze there. Massages the muscles in places he knows are tight just from the look of you. Gets his mouth close to your ear and lowly says, “Come on, baby. It’s just one night.”

You need to finish work.

There’s a deadline tomorrow you need to make, no questions asked.

Your evening plans surround you and your laptop and a wifi connection, and you were hoping you’d maybe get to sit in the same room as Joe as he would do some work of his own. Some prep for next day’s scenes. Some reading, some rehearsing.

Not this.

Not Joe trying to coax you into a bad performance review just because he felt bored that one night he suddenly found himself with a hole in his agenda.

“I’m here,” you say dryly, but you know that’s not what he means. “You can spend time with me whilst I finish all of this up.”

Joe communicates it with a look. A drop of his face and shoulders, letting you go and stepping away. Eyes rolling because, that’s not fair. He wants to take you out. Go some place nice. Talk and laugh and spend some actual time with you. See if some of his other current colleagues want to join, so he can introduce you.

And it’s awful because that’s what you want too. But you feel like you’ve wanted that a million times, and every time you’ve tried to plan something, Joe’s been busy. Always so busy. Table reads, night shoots, long hours, long commutes, a party here, an event there. And it’s always, “Babe, it’s for work, I can’t just cancel.”

Yet, that’s exactly what he’s asking of you now.

“I don’t know why you assume that your time is more valuable than mine.”

“I don’t think that at all! When have I ever said that?”

It’s how he’s acting. It says enough.

“Listen to what you’re saying; you’ve got a bit of free time. You do. You. Not me though. Not tonight. Does that sound familiar? At all?”

The tables have turned, just this once. He can just fucking deal with it like you have all those times before.

“Don’t. You know that’s not–”

“So your job is more important than mine?”

It pays more, Joe thinks immediately, but refrains from speaking the words into the room. Knows that won’t help, but it’s definitely telling how quick the comeback came to him.

“Hmm? Your time more important than mine?” You push.

Joe needs to realise that, if that’s actually how he feels, how outrageous the thought is. Just by your face, he needs to feel how those thoughts need reevaluating.

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

You’re not. You’re just reading his body-language.

“Your priority is you. You have a free minute and so I’m supposed to just work my way around your schedule and– mind you, you didn’t even know about this until this afternoon! This deadline at work has been there for months!”

You should’ve stayed at the office.

Finished up there.

Joe is pacing now. Walking around his own living room with flared nostrils, taking in your words until you leave enough room for him to say anything.

Which, when he finally gets a chance, he drops an insane bombshell.

“Well, if you hadn’t procrastinated everything until the night before, maybe we wouldn’t be where we are right now.”

Oh, what the fuck?

Did it take too long for you to set the world alight? Did Joe think it necessary to douse it in petrol and hold a lit match between two fingers a little too loosely? One small move from you could be used as an excuse to drop it, and full blame could be placed with you.

Clever.

But so are you.

You don’t make a move.

Not a single fucking muscle.

You just stare at him over your laptop screen.

Frozen in place.

And Joe stares right back.

It’s like a fucking duel.

You remember a time where you were in Joe’s shoes. The ones he’s wearing right now. The difference being that, back then, there were actual plans made that you’d been looking forward to, and then two days before, Joe complained about having to cancel on seeing family. He added that it’d be the third time he had to dip out on something, and how that made him feel like an awful person, but his job was just too demanding right now. People wanted him everywhere, all of the time, and whilst he typed away at his phone to apologise to his mum, he didn’t see how your face fell too, because you knew if he was telling family members he couldn’t make it to something, he was also going to have to cancel on you.

Again.

You’d cried, then. Only silently. Wiped a tear away quickly and masked a sniff as a deep breath, because you didn’t want him to feel worse.

Trust Joe to feel guilty for having to cancel on family for the third time and forget about the person in the room with him.

You then wondered if he ever kept count with you.

“You okay?” he had asked when you’d fallen silent, and you’d smiled and nodded. “Yea, just tired.” which wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the full truth that Joe accepted it as.

Idiot.

It was fine. It wasn’t his fault.

You’d taken your frustration out on him later that night, when he left your toothpaste uncapped on the side, and you’d grumbled until the lights in the bedroom got turned off, and Joe reached out to you under the covers.

The one rule.

Even if you were upset, or angry, or wanted to fully murder each other, you had to at least still touch each other in bed. To let the other know that, yea I’d rather fucking shout at you until I go hoarse right now, but I still love you.

It could be a big toe touching a shin, or an elbow digging into a bicep – a touch was a touch. An I love you hidden in the dark.

And you had accepted it easily then.

Yea, it was annoying that Joe’s work dictated so much of what your relationship could even be, but it wasn’t his fault, so there was no use blaming him for it.

That was then.

You don’t know when you’d grown past the point of simply accepting all the bullshit. When you decided to maybe not brush things off and be the cool girlfriend who was there for her boyfriend wherever and whenever, especially in all the moments he wouldn’t have been there for you had the tables been reversed.

Like right fucking now.

You are still staring at Joe across the room when you see how suddenly, he starts to blink his eyes rapidly. See how suddenly, his jaw starts working. You know he’s biting back tears and, no – you won’t fucking have that. This motherfucker can cry on command and you don’t doubt for a single second he’d use that to get his own way.

“Don’t fucking guilt-trip me into losing my job.”

Joe’s immediately offended.

He drops the match.

“Well, I’m sorry for being disappointed.”

World on fire.

“Do you want me to leave?” you spit out, louder than you initially thought you’d make your voice go.

“No, no,” Joe immediately says, but it sounds patronising, even though he’s on the verge of tears. Like he actually means yes, please leave, because what good are you going to be to him having to sit at his kitchen table and do work all night.

“Stay. Make your deadline.”

You ignore the sarcastic bite and take a second to sit back in your chair and assess what needs doing. How long it’ll take you all. What time you’ll likely be finished. You conclude that, if Joe’s gonna be moping around, giving big sighs from across the room, that it will likely take twice as long.

You should leave.

“No, I should go. Get this done and then see you after.”

It’s the last thing Joe expected. For you to go on your own merit. Because of your work that needs doing, and not because you’ve gotten into a huge fight. You’re not storming off and screaming how you never want to see him again. You have work to do and want to see him after you’ve finished it.

It’s stupid how fast everything inside of him flips.

He doesn’t actually want you to leave.

He wants you to shut your laptop and sigh lovingly and mutter, “How could I ever resist you?” through a smile before you kiss him silly and follow him out into the night.

But instead you shut your laptop and bend to pick up your bag from the floor to stick it into and, no, that’s not what he wants.

“No, wait... wait. I’m sorry.” he says he before he even realises what he’s doing. Unsure if he really means it. He just doesn’t want you to get up and leave. If anything, he’d like to talk more and get you to eventually prioritise him over everything else. “Stay. We can... you can finish work and then we could do something after.”

You drop your head all the way back and take a moment to let your eyes dart to all corners of his ceiling.

What if you don’t finish this until after 11? After midnight? Is he just going to watch you work from the sofa and ask you how much longer every three minutes because he thinks you’re taking too long?

You should leave.

“I should go. I’m probably better off at the office, actually. It’s where I’ll get it done faster, I think.” You say all of it kindly. Stick your laptop into your bag calmly, no jerky annoyance in your limbs. But you don’t make eye-contact so he can’t use the Big Browns on you, and instead of trying to stomp on the flames to make the fire go out, he wafts a fresh gust of wind right over them, making them climb much higher.

“All right, fuck off then. See if I give a shit.”

If someone asked you without Joe in the room, you’d tell them Joe needed a moment to calm down and you’d talk to him in the morning after you’d made this deadline.

You didn’t start the fire.

Joe did.

And he’d figure that out eventually.

If someone was to ask Joe without you in the room, he’d tell them fuck her, apparently she doesn’t give a shit about him, and actually, that’s totally not a problem at all, because he prefers the moon anyway.

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @demonsanddemogorgons

@djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer

@everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @gri959

@hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven

@kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr

@munson-mjstan, @munsonssweets, @nadixq, @niallersfreckles, @notverywise

@pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid, @readergf, @royale1803

@skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson

@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfiction #joe quinn x Y/N #joseph quinn x Y/N #icallhimjoey #rpf #i #i prefer the moon anyway

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starlitiris · 1 month ago

Text

Sebastian x Reader x Painter polyamorous relationship headcanons!! Omg!!

So!! I’ve thought about this a few times and really like the idea of a Sebastian x Y/N x Painter poly, and I haven’t seen anything for this anywhere!! Like at all!!! The people out there who are polyamorous or would only be poly with fictional characters are NOT BEING FED!!!!! But it’s a good thing you guys have me 😎

Also im gonna be so fr with you guys, i intended for this to have multiple sections like. “How it started” then “sleeping arrangements” then “love languages” then “jealousy” and so on and so forth but the “how it started” bit ended up being WAY longer than I thought it would be 😭😭 so this is going to be in multiple parts. And just so yall know before hand, in this poly yall ALL are dating. Youre with sebastian and painter, sebastian is with you and painter, and painter is with you and sebastian!!! YALL ALL ARE SMOOCHING!!!!!!!!!

With that all being said… ENJOY!!! AND MAKE REQUESTS FOR THIS AU BC I WILL VERY LIKELY DO THEM!!! HAPPILY!!!!! Ignore my shitass divider i just dont like having nothing there

Update: I made a part 2

🦈 * ⛓️ * 🎨 * ⛓️ * 🦈 * ⛓️ * 🎨 * ⛓️ * 🦈 * ⛓️ * 🎨

How it started:

So the way I’ve been imagining this going has you as an expendable. You get close with Sebastian first since you typically see him more often (unless you count Painter trying to trick you with fake doors or turret you but that’s when he’s trying to kill you so I’m not counting it ☝️). At some point, you and Sebastian start talking, and the more you see him, the longer your conversations get. You start to form a friendship! And he actually likes you! Good for you you achieved the impossible and made the angry traumatized fish man like your presence!!! So you and Sebastian become friends first since you see him more frequently in a non-hostile setting. Your friendship with Painter was a slower burn since you didn’t get to meet him in his room every run, but whenever you met with him, you would talk. Just like with Sebastian, the more times you saw Painter, the longer your conversations would be. He at least was able to like you faster than Sebastian did! You’re fun to talk to, and you really listen to him. And you were relatively quick to forgive him for hurting you on your runs, so he appreciated that. Eventually Painter would stop giving you a hard time with doors and turrets, and would even start following you from room to room when he could on the monitors by the doors. It made your time in the blacksite a little more bearable.

Sebastian would start to develop feelings for you after some time. He looked forward to seeing you enter his shop every run, or making little quips at you whenever you would inevitably get killed again by one of the site’s many dangers. His quips used to be harsh and ill-intended, but now they were friendly and teasing. You didn’t like getting teased for not hearing the wall dweller behind you or for accidentally falling into pits of lava, but you usually couldn’t help but smile while you rolled your eyes at him. You had developed feelings for him, too. That’s why you let him get away with it so often.

There was one day where you entered Sebastian’s shop, and he seemed… off. He was still smiling at you, but he seemed tired. Or… sad. It was a little difficult to tell, but you knew something was wrong. You tried to brush it off at first. You didn’t wanna push him to talk about it if he clearly didn’t want to, so you bought a few items and got ready to leave.

Okay, you couldn't help yourself. He looked miserable and it was worrying you. Before you left, you asked Sebastian if he was alright.

“Hm? Of course! I’m fine. Go on, if you stay too long they might start to get suspicious,” he joked, trying to divert the attention off of himself.

You weren’t convinced. But if he didn’t wanna talk about it, you weren’t about to press him on it. You learned the hard way that pushing him to talk when he wasn’t ready wasn’t a good idea. So you turned and began to kneel down at the vent.

But then he called your name.

You stopped, standing up again and turning to face him. He paused, unsure if he should continue. But then he confessed.

He confessed to falling for you. He told you he knows you probably don’t feel the same way, but god, was he in love with you. He said he felt like an idiot for letting himself get this attached to you. He apologized because he knows you two were supposed to be against each other, and loving you only made things more complicated. It made things harder than they already were.

He said he was sorry for falling in love with you.

Then you said you loved him, too.

He seemed surprised. He never would’ve expected you to return his feelings- I mean hell, look at him. He was a giant shark, fish, whale, snake… thing. And he was mean, and in a lot of ways, emotionally unavailable. Who could fall for someone like him?

Well… obviously you, of course. But he didn’t understand why. Quite frankly, though, in this exact moment, he doesn’t care. He’s just happy. Relieved. And then he’s sad again, even as you hold his hand and caress his cheek. You’re feeling the same way he is. Happy and relieved, but sad knowing that this unfortunately doesn’t change the fact that the world has pinned you against each other.

You stay for a while, but eventually, as always, you have to go. You kiss him on the cheek before you leave. Later on, you meet Painter again after he finds you on the cameras. You tell him about your interaction with Sebastian, and he’s happy for you! But sad, too. Sigh… if only there was a way they could escape and bring you with them 😔💔

Omg Painter just had the best idea ever they could escape and take you with them!!!!! He proposes this idea to Sebastian first. You could keep helping them to gather research while you keep “trying to retrieve the crystal”. And after you all stalled for enough time, boom!!! You could just ditch the place and escape with them!!! It was true that overtime, you were getting a lot better at avoiding dangers. You made it a little bit further into the blacksite with almost every run. Sebastian and Painter knew that eventually, you would likely be able to escape with the crystal. So… in order for this plan to work… youuuu would kind of have to purposely fail until you could all escape. Sebastian didn’t like that. Honestly, neither did Painter. But it was the only plan they had that they believed could work.

You didn’t necessarily like the idea either when they proposed it to you, but you agreed. Dying sucked, but escaping and dooming your best friend and now-boyfriend to die was significantly worse. You knew you couldn’t just stay in Sebastian’s shop or whatever, cause if you never left, Urbanshade would definitely suspect that something was up. You were all honestly surprised that they let you stay with Sebastian or Painter as long as you did sometimes already. But you couldn’t stay. So! Dying over and over until you can escape it is!

Things continue exactly as planned. You gather as much research as you can for Sebastian, you die in between rooms 80 and 100, and you repeat the process. Your evolving relationship with Sebastian was going great throughout this. Your relationship with Painter was doing just as great, too! He was always so excited to see you!! Any chance he had to be with you, he would jump at immediately. At this point, you were seeing him more often than you were seeing Sebastian. Not that you minded. You enjoyed Painter’s presence just as much.

Painter started to notice that he felt… fluttery? When you were around? When you looked at him, when you joked with him, when you complimented his art- hell, even just THINKING about you made him feel all fuzzy and weird. Odd! Wonder what that’s about.

Finally, Innovation Inc gets back in contact with Sebastian, and all three of you are able to escape together. Sebastian found a way to disable your PDG, and you helped to get Painter out of his cage to bring him with you.

Innovation Inc gave you three a temporary room to stay in while you got things all sorted out with them. You specifically requested that you all sleep in the same place. At long last, you could finally snuggle with your boyfriend and sleep in the same bed. Or- nest. Of blankets and pillows. It was still comfortable. You and Sebastian both agreed that you didn’t want to be apart from Painter if you two got to be together, so he was there, too. None of you minded.

Innovation Inc agreed to build Painter a body so he could move freely on his own, and do other things he wanted to experience. It would take a few months for that to happen, but it was worth the wait. While you all waited for Painter’s body to be completed, he was brought with you and Sebastian everywhere you went. He watched the way you two held hands, kissed, hugged, and cuddled. The way you would lovingly tease each other, comfort each other, and say “I love you” back and forth.

He wants that. Painter realized that he wanted that. He wants what you and Sebastian have- he wants to be part of it. He wants to hold your guys’ hands, join your hugs and cuddles… kiss you. He wants to be able to gently pet you both when either of you wake up from a bad dream. He wants to hold you and tell you both… he loves you.

Painter loves you two.

Painter’s body was finished. Sebastian was helping get him connected to it, making adjustments here and there as needed. You were somewhere else in the facility finding things to celebrate this momentous moment with. Not that there was much at your disposal, but you were hoping to find something. This is something worth celebrating!

Painter watched Sebastian analyze his wires, cables, joints, and so on – really wanting everything to be working right. Painter was really excited about his new body, don’t get him wrong. But after his recent realization… all he can think about is you and Sebastian. All the things he wants to do with you, all the things he wants to say to you…

“I love you, Sebastian.”

He just blurted it out. He didn’t want it to be a secret anymore. He knows Sebastian has you, and you have Sebastian, but you both needed to know. He needed you to know.

Sebastian looked up at Painter’s screen, eyes wide and processing.

“You… what?” Sebastian was admittedly a little stunned.

“I love you. Like… you know… not just platonically. I think I’m in love with you,” Painter continued.

Sebastian really didn’t know what to say. While realizing what Painter was telling him, he felt… conflicted. A lot of thoughts and emotions swirled around in his head- there was too much going on for him to grab a thought, latch onto it, and put it into words.

Painter took his silence as an opportunity to continue and explain himself.

“And it’s not just you. I… I think I’m in love with Y/N, too. I love you- both of you. And I know, you and Y/N are together already, and I’m just… here. And maybe I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but I didn’t wanna keep it to myself anymore. Now that I’m saying it out loud, it kind of sounds selfish- and maybe I am. I don’t know… I just… I still wanna be your guys’ friend! I hope this doesn’t, uh… ruin what we all have going for us. I just… love you. A lot.”

Painter had finished his confession. Sebastian took it all in, word for word, rolling it around in his head to process everything. Painter’s feelings, his feelings, and what this meant for all of you. It took him a moment, but eventually, he responded.

“I love you, too,” Sebastian said, an undertone of sadness present in his voice. “Both of you.”

Painter went from being surprised, to being happy, to feeling immense dread and guilt and like him and Sebastian were probably kind of betraying you at the moment. Painter asked Sebastian what the hell they were supposed to do about this, and apologized for making everything so complicated.

Sebastian said, “Let’s just tell them. They deserve to know, regardless of what happens.”

His ear fins flicked, drooping low beside his head. He felt just as guilty as Painter did.

A few minutes later, you enter the room with a smile. You tell the two that you couldn’t find much, but you had things set up in your shared room! Then you stopped smiling. They both looked… sad. Sort of like dogs that knew they did something wrong and were about to get in trouble for it.

“Wwwhat’s going on…?” You asked.

And they explained. Painter started, admitting to you that he had fallen in love with both you and Sebastian. Then Sebastian took the stage, explaining to you that he returned Painter’s feelings. He said he still loved you just as much, and he wouldn’t be telling you this if he could avoid it with a sound conscience, but you deserved to know. He couldn’t look at you the entire time he spoke.

You stared. You processed. You thought.

And you laughed.

You laughed hard.

The two were confused. FLABBERGASTED. Why the hell were you laughing? Was this a bad laugh? Laughing at how absurd this was before you yelled at them for putting you in this situation? What the fuck is wrong with u????

You wiped away a tear as you tried to calm yourself down.

“I- I’m sorry-” you said through your giggling. “It’s just… I feel the same way! I’m in love with both of you. God, I felt so guilty when I realized I loved Painter, too, but now?” You laugh again. “Oh my god! We’re so stupid.”

Silence. Jaws on the floor.

Then Sebastian snorted.

And he laughed as well. “What?? Are you fucking serious??”

You told him that yes, you were serious. You both kept laughing.

Painter was still in shock.

“Wh… so- this WHOLE time… we all just… loved each other??? All of us???”

“Apparently!” You added.

Eventually, the absurdity of the whole thing had Painter laughing, too. You all felt pretty goofy for worrying so much, only to have you all find out that ALL the feelings were reciprocated.

When the laughter finally came to a halt, Painter asked a really good question.

“So… what do we do now?”

“Well… “ you started. “We could technically just… all date each other. That’s a thing some people do.”

“We could?” Painter asked with excitement. He had never even considered that.

“Huh…” Sebastian thought aloud. “Never thought I’d be the kind of guy that’s open to polyamory, but I like that. I think we could make it work,” he grinned, looking down at Painter to wait for his thoughts.

Painter smiled widely.

“Yeah!! Yeah, let’s do that!! I’d love that!” He exclaimed.

And with that, you were now in a polyamorous relationship with Sebastian and Painter. Sebastian had finished making sure Painter’s new body was put together the way it should be, so you all went back to your shared room to celebrate.

To celebrate Painter’s new body, AND your new relationship. And later that night, Painter was finally able to cuddle with you and Sebastian while you slept – even though he doesn’t exactly sleep the same way you two do. It was still very, very nice to have one of his fondest dreams come true.

And now that Painter’s body was finished, soon enough Innovation Inc would have a remote safe house ready for you three to live in on the surface. Painter couldn’t wait. None of you could.

You were finally getting your happy ending.

#pressure fanfic #roblox pressure headcanons #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace x y/n #p.ai.nter x you #p.ai.nter x y/n #p.ai.nter x reader #sebastian x reader x p.ai.nter #sebastian x you x p.ai.nter #sebastian x y/n x p.ai.nter #pressure x reader #roblox pressure x reader #EAT UP FISH AND PUTER KISSERS

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zvdvdlvr · 11 months ago

Note

Okay but hear me out Hotch's love language is acts of service. That man is a caregiver and maybe I'm projecting because I'm currently taking care of my own stitches but like if you were hurt in the field and got cut by a knife or something he would absolutely go out of his way to clean your wound and rebandage you as needed. Or like if you burnt your hand grabbing a hot pan or something while you guys were making dinner 🥲 he's just so soft

Yes. Absolutely. This is literally him.

Aaron’s always gonna blame himself, no matter if it really is his fault or not; so taking care of you in any way, shape, or form is always gonna be an opportunity Aaron will take.

Even if you aren’t dating Aaron still wants to help patch you up because thats just the kinda guy he is :))

im giggling thinking about being in a relationship woth Hotch and him sitting you down to rewrap a bandage, put vaseline or aquaphor on your stitches, or even putting ointment on a burn.

Boyfriend!Hotch fawning over tou after you burn yourself making dinner for you, him, and Jack!!!!!!! He would undoubtedly drop everything and run over after hearing you hiss in pain and cuss quietly (he admires how you try not to cuss in fromt of Jack). “Oh, honey,” he’d coo and pull you over to the sink. I NEED HIM TO CALL ME ‘HONEY’, YOUR HONOR.

Can you imagine him kissing the bandage too after you cracked a joke about him kissing Jack’s boo-boos?? 😥😥 i actually need him.

OKOKOKOK

imagine you just got cut by an unsub:

It wasn’t Hotch’s fault, no matter how much you tried to reassure him as the medics stitched up the admittedly deep cut on your thigh.

The unsub, you tried to reason with him, was just a hunter with very good aim and a warped mind. But Hotch wouldn’t have it. He literally wrapped your arm over his shoulder so he could walk you out to the medics, paced on the ground outside the ambulance, and refused to let you drive to the plane and hotel without him.

So that’s where you are now: opening your door for Hotch and Jack to enter your house.

“Hi, y/n!” Jack greeted, throwing himself out to hug y/n’s legs. You patted his back and ran a hand through his hair.

“Hey kiddo,” you greeted, trying to hide the wince on your face before Aaron saw.

But he did. “I, uh, told Jack you got hurt and he… decided he would throw a fit until he came to make sure you weren’t sad.”

That made you smile; yeah, Hotch, blamd it on Jack. “You’re the sweetest, Jackie-boy. No way any one could be sad around you,” you practically sang, picking the boy up. “Come in, Hotch. I see that first-aid kit you have.”

Hotch pretended not to see the way you favored your uninjured leg over the other when you set Jack on the couch, already knowing what movie he wanted to watch.

“Hey,” you said finally, “Jack’s watching Captain America: The Winter Soldier.” You took a seat at the table.

“He was excited about coming to see you,” Aaron admits. “He told me that you’re his favorite because you ‘like Captain America, always have candy, and make sure he’s never sad’, according to him.”

You laugh a little, but your heart is swollen up in your chest like a balloon. You’re Jack’s favorite? “So… tell me why you’re really here, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

You pause, seeing Hotch’s eye contact falter. “What?”

“You can call me Aaron. We aren’t at the office, so I don’t see a problem in you calling me Aaron. And my son is on your couch, so…” He trails off, a smile pulling at his lips.

You think you can feel little a butterfly volcano erupt in your stomach. You’re hot boss is smiling at you. Inside your house. “So,” you start again, voice quieter this time, “why are you here, Aaron?” You want to scream. Hotch’s name on your tongue felt foreign but you really wanted to get used to calling him by his first name.

“I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself after getting,” he paused, thinking of the blood staining your pants when he first saw you, “cut up by the unsub.”

“If you want me to take my pants off, you just have to ask,” you scoffed, tugging down your sweatpants to reveal a bloodied bandage wrapped in gauze. Your shirt was oversized, falling to just above the end of the gauze. “I changed the wrap a couple hours ago, but I got bored and moved some stuff around and it probably started bleeding,” you explained, watching Aaron pull set your leg on the chair he was sitting in to rewrap your injury.

“Y-This is okay?” He asked, large hands hovering directly over your skin.

After nodding, you swallowed as you watched Aaron carefully unwrapped the thin gauze and inspected the dark red patterns staining the bandage.

He doesn’t say a word as he rips the bandage off, not saying a word when he feels your hand fly to his shoulder for support- something that makes him flush a little.

“Aaron, I can do it mysel-“

“Let me take care of you,” he interrupts, looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes that he does so well and you know you’d listen to him if he told you to rip your heart out of your chest and give it to him just because he’s got you wrapped around his pinkie.

“Okay.”

Despite the movie in the background, you both fall into silence; afraid to break the silence.

He had to admit, Aaron hadn’t felt so giddy in a while. Even here, on his knees in your home, Aaron found himself once again questioning if he wanted to make a move. He felt you squeeze his shoulder a little as he dabbed some cold ointment on the stitches but he wanted to feel your hands on him. Rewrapping the bandage would be the awkward part: having to get his hands very close to your sex.

“Do you want to do it?” Aaron asked.

“I think you should. I might mess it up or something,” you shrug, clearly lying. But Aaron wanted you to lie.

So carefully, gingerly, Aaron wrapped the guaze over the bandage, hands gliding over your thigh to make sure the thin material would stay.

“Done,” he announced. “Does it feel okay? Not too tight? Too loose?” He asked.

“Perfect.”

He looked up at you. “y/n?”

“I think… my thigh’s a little sore. You uh, might need to kiss my boo-boo to make sure I feel better.”

A sly smile grew on Aaron’s face while he watched your face turn red and you avoiding eye contact.

So Aaron leaned over and pressed his lips to the sterile gauze, kissing the material covering your skin.

The butterfly volcano had successfully self destructed, making every body part possible buzz at the sight of Aaron leaning over you.

406 notes · View notes

sophiepiastri · 5 months ago

Text

CANDY NECKLACES|LN4

————————————————————————

pairing: Lando Norris x singer!reader

genre: smau

context: y/n has been hinting about an album for a while now, and when she finally releases the album most of the songs are about her McLaren driver boyfriend…

faceclaim: Lana Del Rey

warnings: this is my first fic, so bare with me if it is bad or not well written! by all means message me some tips and tricks ❤️

————————————————————————

@youruser

liked by, landonorris, lilymhe, 867,543 others

@youruser i know i keep saying this but.. I PROMISE ITS COMING SOON!!!

this album is very personal to me. it has songs about things i’ve never spoken about, about the man i love and my dreams. it has been a long time coming and the time will be soon i promise..

thank you @ jackantonoff for helping me make this album the best it can be 🤍✨

comments

@ user: i know for a fact this album will make me cry and buss it down all at once ❤️liked by author

@ landonorris: spoiler alert 🚨 first song made me tear up 😀 —> @youruser: now why are you lying?? you full on sobbed in my arms.. —>@ georgerussel: this is more believable, this man cried when he saw a fish in a pond. —>@ landonorris: please stop lying 🤣🤣 —>@youruser: we’re not.

@ user: LMAO lando being called out by y/n and george 😭😭

@ lilymhe: girl please let me hear some of the songs 🙏😔 —>@youruser: SOON I PROMISE —>@ lilymhe: you’ve been saying this for 2 years

@ user: we’re cooked.. jacks a producer, it’s going to be piano ballads 😔 i’ll buy the tissues y’all

@ user: day 821 waiting for the album to drop

more comments…

@ landonorris

liked by, youruser, oscarpiastri , 943,776 others

@ landonorris: my beautiful girlfriend @youruser has given me the honor to announce that her album comes out in 2 days!!! i love you so much baby i can’t wait for it to finally be out to the world

comments

@youruser: lando baby i love you, but what’s with the 3rd picture?? —>@ landonorris: wdym?? that’s my delectable gf 😋

@ user: OMG OMG OMG I CANT WAIT OMFG?!!! ❤️liked by @youruser and @landonorris

@ charlesleclerc: congrats y/n me and Alex can’t wait to hear it, alex has been none stop talking about it ❤️liked by @youruser

@ alexandrasaintmleux: unbelievably excited✨ —>@youruser: i love you 😢❤️

@lilymhe: THE LOVE SONGS ARE ABOUT ME GUYS 😋. —>@ alexalbon: oh? —>@ landonorris: but there not though

@ user: brb preparing myself for an 1hour and 30 minute crying session in 48 hours

@ user: I JUST WANT TO KNOW THE TRACKLIST AND WHAT ITS CALLED!! —>@youruser: 😋😋

@youruser

liked by,landonorris,iamrebbecad, 987,566 others

@youruser: 1 DAY TILL THE ALBUM DROPS!!!

i hope you are all really like this album, i’ve spent 3 years making this. i’ve written it through the toughest and happiest parts of my life. some songs have an extremely deep hidden message and some get straight to the point.

side A are my meaningful “sad” songs and side B and my more upbeat “happy” songs

get ready ❤️❤️

comments

@. landonorris: extremely proud of you love!! 💗 —>@youruser: I LOVE YOU

@ landonorris: burning desire is about me y’all 🤭🤭🤭

@ user: SO THANKFUL THAT SAD SONGS ARE FIRST. THEN I CAN BUSS IT DOWNNNNNN

@ user: isn’t scott street the street her and her ex boyfriend lived on??? —>@ user: yes i think so, he was a horrible person to y/n.. im actually dreading that song, im scared of what she’s going to say in it 💔

@ user: “off to the races” defo about lando 😋😋

@ alexandrasaintmleux: so excited ily 🤍 ❤️liked by youruser

@lewishamilton: i’m so ready, can’t wait to hear it y/n

@ user: the meaning of the word “kintsugi”… so scared and excited to hear this.. —>@ user: what does it mean? —>@ user: it’s an art were you fix broken poetry with a lacquer dusted with powdered gold.. maybe suggesting she was broken and lando fixed her?? ❤️liked by youruser

@iamrebbecad: this album cover is gorgeous —>@youruser: thank you!! ily ❤️

@user: so are we not going to talk about “outro” ???? that song literally is the embodiment of the end of a chapter or the end of a story.

@ user

liked by, user, youruser, 10,776 others

@ user: when y/n said side A was going to be sad i didn’t think she meant GUT WRENCHING SAD

comments

@ user: FOR REAL. gilded lily “haven’t i given enough?” 😢😢who hurt my girl? cause i will find you…

@ user: “sweet” almost took me out.. “do you want children? do you wanna marry me?” her thinking about if lando wants to stay with her and grow old together even when she pushes him away :(

@ user: i know living legend is about lando but when she started screaming “why?why?why?why?why?” at the end my heart stopped..

@ user: its such a y/n thing to make us bawl our eyes out at the start of A&W and then buss it down why’ll crying ❤️liked by youruser

@ landonorris: i’m going to own up to it now.. yes i did sob in y/ns arms. yes i did have to leave the studio because i wouldn’t stop crying…

@ user:i had to pause scott street after i heard “do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?”

more comments..

@ landonorris

liked by, youruser, lewishamilton, 886,765 others

@ landonorris: so unbelievably proud of this woman, i am so proud of what she has done and how much effort she has put into this album i love you so much @youruser (cherry and burning desire are on repeat 🤭🤭)

comments

@youruser: babe i thought we agreed on no more bad photos of me.. —> @ landonorris: wdym?? i stuck to the agreement 😗😗

@youruser: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. COME HOME RIGHT NOW. I WANT TO HUG AND KISS YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. —>@ user: she’s so cute omg

@ georgerussell: hes not joking i can hear burning desire through his headphones 😀😀

@ user: y’all they love eachother so much

@ user: they cute or whatever

@ oscarpiastri: brb off to listen to side A because i didn’t get a post like this when i got p2 in monaco 😔

@ user

liked by, user, 14,675 others

@ user: y/ns bussy tastes like what now?

comments

@ user: that being the first line is so unhinged

@ user: i know the song is called cola but i didn’t think it would be about her kitty cat

@ user: BUT HER VOCALS DURING THE BRIDGE SENT ME TO HEAVEN

more comments..

@youruser

liked by, landonorris, lilymhe, 1,456,355 others

@youruser: “candy necklaces” music video out now!!! this song is one of my favorite ive ever written and it has been one of my favorite music videos!! hope you enjoy it!!

comments

@ landonorris: bbg the curly hair 😋😋😋😋😋😋

@ user: petition to get y/n a real hollywood star!!

@ lilymhe: this music video is so appealing to the eye

@iamrebbecad: being on set with you was ethereal

@ user: her dressing as different hollywood stars that have died 😢😢

@ charlesleclerc: the piano solo at the end 🫡🫡

@ alexandrasaintmleux: charles is now learning this on piano.. and i’m not complaining 😗😗 one of my favorite songs

more comments..

————————————————————————

author note: thank you for reading!!! this is my first fic and i think it’s okay?? please message me tips of how i could improve.

List of songs used:

Gilded Lily- Cults

Candy Necklaces- Lana Del Rey

Kintsugi- Lana Del Rey

Living Legend- Lana Del Rey

Sweet- Lana Del Rey

Scott Street- Phoebe Bridgers

Arcadia- Lana Del Rey

A&W- Lana Del Rey

Burning Desire- Lana Del Rey

High by the Beach- Lana Del Rey

Off To The Races- Lana Del Rey

Cherry - Lana Del Rey

Ride- Lana Del Rey

Cola- Lana Del Rey

Outro- M83

#f1 x y/n #landonorris #lana del rey #formula 1 #smau #f1 #lando norris #formula one #mclaren #formula 1 oneshot #oscar piastri #lewis hamilton #alexandra saint mleux #charles leclerc #alex albon #singer!reader #lando norris x reader #fanfic #singer

292 notes · View notes

serxinns · 10 months ago

Note

Hi so I have a request if that’s okay so how about yandere class 1-a ft Aizawa with Bakugou twin sister reader who is kind and nice and the opposite of Katsuki, how about she gets asked out on a date by a student from 1-b only to find out that he only asked her out because of a bet he made with other student, how would class 1-a react to that?

((Also I really like your blog btw))

A/n: THANK YOUUU IM GLAD YOU REQUESTED THAT

Bakugo was always protective as you ever since you were kids he would always say he would protect you and not let anyone take you away from him and you didn't seem to mind it since you just thought it was some typical big brother behavior when it was much darker than that...Whenever someone would talk to you he would glare in their way making sure they had a cold sweat he once hospitalized a boy in the middle because he put gum in your hair you were everything to Katsuki he just wanted to be him and you(and his parents ofc) that was it

That was before class 1a

•Everyone was shocked at the two of you even Aizawa questioned the nature of it because Katsuki was a burning bomb ready to explode anytime when someone pisses him off while you were an absolute sweetheart with a kind personality with a Smile pure of sunshine and happiness with a positive personality people would even doubt you were Akatsuki's twin without you looking alike even izuku sometimes question it

•the class was so lovesick and adored with your kind yet tough nature they knew it was fate they knew exactly who to cherish and love! And it was you!

•The girls would have lesbian attacks whenever they were close to you or ever interacted with you, while you chatted along your day and training Mina would just dreamily sigh to herself, tsuyu would just be just in a trace cause how sweet your voice sounded, Ochako would stare at your lips imagining how it'll felt touching hers, Jirou wanting to bury her face in your big fluffy hair so she can get a sniff, momo starting at those beautiful eyes making her all flushed and it drives her crazy, Hakagure wanting to pinch your cheeks while giggling intensely

•The boys, on the other hand, would try so desperately to get your attention and praise like how Tokoyami would show off his love poems to you while you watched with eyes sparkling, Aoyama would show off his fashion skills by dressing up and if you ever want to wear matching outfits with him let's say he's the happiest man alive he'll show off to everyone how dazzling the 2 of you are, Kirishima would pick you up and throw you in the air just to show you his strength talking about how manly he is, while Sato gives you all sorts of treats and teach you to bake

•But your brother was deeply Jealous every time he caught you hanging out with them he always watched in the background to make sure they didn't do anything or just took you away and scolded you for not hanging out with your big brother as much but that's ok! not your fault it's those Extras you called "friends" fault, but when they told how much they love and care about you, he gets 2nd thoughts and decided to tolerate it for now

One day at lunch a girl walked over to your table and asked you out to go to a nearby cafe on Friday you blushed and mumbled yes the class including your brother say quietly anger building up and glaring at the girl the girl winked and ran away,

On Friday the girls helped you get ready you were dressed up in Momo's dorm they picked your best outfit and did your hair so nicely you were twirling around, beaming and smiling mina and the others blushed at your style but were heartbroken knowing the fact that you weren't getting dressed up for them, when you got out the dorm and shows it to the boys they looked in wonder but was sad but your brother was being extra protective and strict today putting down some rules

"IF SHE EVER TRIED TO LAY HANDS ON YOU WITHOUT CONSENT MAKE SURE YOU CALL ME SO I CAN BEAT HER ASS"

"ok Kats"

"NO KISSING ON THE FIRST DATE AND NO PHYSICAL TOUCHING BELOW THE WAIST HAND HOLDING HANDS ARE ALLOWED"

"ok kats 😒"

"AND NO DOING ANY FLITHY STUFF LIKE GOING INTO SOMEONES BED AND-"

"KATSUKI WTF-"

At this point, you were just deciding to not listen to your brother 😭 you weren't going to anyway especially that last one but you kept the others in mind you were heading out the door everyone bid you farewells and good luck and you were feeling as confidence as ever when you made it at the cafe

you see the girl sitting there ever so pretty with her hair in a beautiful style and a beautiful flower pattern dress, you blush at her appearance and the two of you did your greeting and start talking for a bit it was fun honestly she was laughing at your jokes and you were blushing at her cheesy pick up lines all was going swell and you had to go to the bathroom you apologized to her and excused yourself

After you washed your hands you were about to exit the bathroom but heard your date chattering and laughing and she mentioned your name a couple of times you were curious u stayed and listened closely

Blue: The girls friend

Pink: the girl (aka the date)

"I did it I asked her out and brought her on a cafe date it was so easy!"

"WHAT?! Omg you're so evil!, are you gonna tell her that it's a bet

"ofc I won't even after we are about to "Kiss" pfft it's gonna be so funny!"

"Are you gonna record it!? Please tell me you are?!"

"Uh duh I am man I can't believe there's a girl who likes other girls so gross!"

As the girl kept chattering horrible stuff the more numb you felt your eyes watering and leaking down your face your hands balled up in fists shaking you grabbed your stuff off the table not caring about your "Date" reaction, and dashed out of the cafe you ran inside the building Kirishima and bakugo were playing a game while jirou, momo, Denki, sero and ochako were playing card games they saw you ran in, "Oh hey y/n! how was your-" just as jirou was about to say something you slammed and locked the door, everyone was shocked Bakugo put the controller down pressed his head against the door he could hear sniffling and crying

Bakugan harshly told everyone in the common room to back away and knocked on your door "Hey idiot you there? Can I come in" You hesitated for a second but at the moment you didn't care you just needed some comfort so you unlocked the door and Bakugo calmly went in he didn't like to be mushy but seeing you cry broke his heart just went he shut your door you tackled him and hugged him tightly crying in his chest murmuring a bunch of "im sorry" and "You were right" when he finally calmed you down you explained what happened " s-she called me disgusting kats I didn't do anything to her " he rubbed your back while you hugged him tightly until you fell asleep he placed you down in your bed

He went out of your dorm and met with a bunch of concerned looks from your classmates some asked a bunch of questions to see if you were ok even iida and Momo frantically wanted to come in and check on you but Bakugo completely shut it down saying he'll explain what happen

"Those fucking pests..." momo said with venom in her voice and the others agree they were in a rage how could anyone do that to sweet little you! You didn't even do anything! Everyone was now arguing and bickering about what to do with her some mina suggested beating her up and threatening her but Tokoyami disagreed and said blackmail Ochako suggested spreading a fake rumor so people she would be ostracized from the whole school but- "I think that's enough out of all of you" everyone quickly turned around to see Aizawa looking tried and pissed "M-Mr Aizawa we can explain-" "Silence I don't wanna hear it y'all did enough I'll handle that girl in the morning the rest of you head to bed now" the class groaned and head to bed still plotting up a plan in their mind

The next day when you were about to walk to class you heard screaming and begging "WHAT DO YOU MEAN IM GETTING EXPELLED?!" the girl's eyes were full of tears showing at Principal Nezu still keeping a smile on his face "I'm sorry but we made up our minds we are a bullying free environment we can't have a soon to be hero bullying other soon to be heroes for who they like" nezu said while taking a sip of tea the girl's angry yells of protest turning to ugly sobbing and begging she ran pass you crying loudly

You were stunned but were walking into class "Morning everyone!" just when you walked in everyone was huddling around you mina was hugging you tightly like her life depended on it " y/n! Are you ok do you need some more time?!" " we can go to a cool butterfly Zoo Kota recommended to make you feel better *Kero*" "Here I got you think adorable music box with your favorite tune on it" Momo handled the music box "I'll bake you some sweets to make you feel better!" Sato butted in everyone else was cooing and gifting your stuff to help you "feel better" Luckily bakugo pulled you away but was also checking to see if you were ok everyone was bickering at Bakugo for being selfish but was quiet down when Aziawa came

After class when you were headed to your 2nd period Aizawa stopped you for a second "Uh yes sensei?" he walked up to you "I heard you were feeling sad yesterday ur feeling better now brat?" you shrugged "Yea just some night with someone got bad and weirdly enough now they're getting expelled kinda harsh honestly " Aizawa shrugged his shoulders as well "Thats too bad but let's worried you being stable and ready for hero training this afternoon" you quickly nodded your head and smiled with determination "Yes sensei! I am!" he let you go to your next class unaware that a evil smirk was forming on his face

#yandere x reader #yandere bnha #yandere ua #tw yandere #tw obsessive behavior #yandere class 1a #yandere mha #platonic yandere #tw stalking #bnha fluff #Yandere platonic bakugo

291 notes · View notes

sp4ceboo · 8 months ago

Text

Warriors: Choi San x Reader

A/N: ohh boyyy after the kpop fanfic drought im back and it's with warriors au choi san

Summary: San and Reader are mages, which means they are made to serve. They are lowborn, destined to obey humans - the nobles and the highborn - with their every breaths. What if they don't want that?

tw: 18+, smut (p in v, fingering, cockwarming sort of), swearing, violence, death, blood, minimally gory at one point, war, child soldiers (14 yo), society is a shit place to be if you're a mage, tons of worldbuilding, assassins, freaking bath sex, hint at sa at one point from some dude we hate, san is kind of a brat tamer, seonghwa cameo but sad, idk if you can tell but i suck at summaries, mention of a harem, mention of slavery

wc: 4.8k

As a child, you watched from afar, waiting for things you could not grasp.

They told you that you were made to serve. They recounted age-old tales, about gods that crafted humans in their divine hands, moulding the mages afterwards to be commanded by their beloved creations. They filled your mind with legends of faithful individuals of your kind who proved their worth with obedience until you wished to be like your forebears.

Back when you were but an infant, you believed it. You knew the two powers that were bestowed upon you by the gods, varying in every mage, were gifts made solely to assist the highborns. In your naivety, you thought the rosy flame cupped in your small, childish palms would be used to warm the nobles in the icy winter, and that you would fulfil your purpose through that, through being of use to them. They had no shame as they informed you you were just a tool forged for following their orders, and you were convinced it was all true - until you met San.

Although you were the one with the ability to summon an inferno, he was always the one with a burning fire in his eyes. Like all mages, he’d been taken from his parents the moment he didn’t need his mother’s milk - he was given as a peace offering from the Hwangso warlord for his control of water: helpful for the upkeep of the crops.

This occurred in the small period of time in which Hwangso, the neighbouring province, was attempting to forge alliances with your province, Neugdae. Soon after, your warlord breached their territory, claiming it as his - you often wondered if the news filtering back from the front lines of a new settlement captured ever affected San.

You met him when he was an eight year old filled with bottled fury too old for his years, and you were a quiet, invisible seven year old. At those tender ages, neither of you had developed your second ability yet, nor had you gotten a taste of the power at your fingertips, but San still held his head high; you remember marvelling at the way he’d make a point of meeting every single noble’s gaze and holding it. He was just a scrawny, sun browned kid back then - nothing like the elegant lethality of the man that he is now.

Every day until you turned fourteen, you toiled beside him. The work was cruel, your supervisors crueller; the sun would beat down on your back as you laboured in the fields, side by side with San as barely a quarter of the way across the settlement, the nobles sheltered beneath their silky parasols, boasting their pale, porcelain skin. Back then, San never spoke of the injustice of it all out loud, but something about the look in his eyes when he saw them swanning past stirred something inside you. He made you realise that you were not the soulless, mindless puppet that you’d been told you were, but a person.

It wasn’t simply the rage inside him that drew you to him, though. It was the way he remained sweet, kind, despite it all, making sure to send licks of cool mist down your neck when your supervisors weren’t looking, nicking extra crumbs of food for you and remaining beside you, a beacon of light that anchored you to sanity even in the dark.

Even when, you at fourteen, him fifteen, were sent out into battle.

There were always skirmishes between neighbouring warlords: a constant push and pull for more land, more resources, more power. They would attack on a whim - mages were expendable, nothing more than canon fodder; behind each squadron was a noble who would hang back behind the lines, commanding, unbothered by the bloodshed because it was the blood of mere tools.

By then, both you and San had developed your second abilities. San’s was the ability to manipulate shadows, turning them into almost solid shapes that could physically hinder attacks by forming daggers or clutching hands, or could temporarily block the world out in a shroud of rolling black fog. Yours was the art of shapeshifting; you let the outline of your body flicker between forms, changing into powerful, deadly creatures whose substance was inhabited by the soul of a wavering teenager.

You’d known that you’d be forced to fight since you were young, but you never could have imagined the brutality of war.

It was there, in the midst of the battlefield, that any lingering innocence was burned from your soul. You learned that San’s water did not just bring life, but could also fill up someone’s lungs until they drowned upon dry ground, that your fire was not just a source of warmth or light, but could also combust a man’s heart within his chest, that the animals you were teaching yourself to shapeshift into could maul and break bones.

Many nights, you would fall asleep, curled against San, your face buried in his side with his arm wrapped around you, the taste of blood still in your mouth from where you’d torn your enemies’ throat out with the vicious canines of a tiger or the needle sharp fangs of a lynx. You would leave the front lines soaked with crimson, the essence of other people in your hair, smeared on your face, caked and drying under your nails.

It terrified you, how easily you could slice their flesh open with your claws. Armour was not wasted on mages, only generals, so just like you, all they wore were roughly woven tunics tied at the waist and trousers - you met no resistance when you killed your own kind, silent apologies on your lips.

Within the squadrons were also humans that had fallen from grace - criminals who still felt entitled enough by their birthright to think they could have a fourteen year old mage’s body; San protected you until you could protect yourself. In the first few weeks, when the punches he threw were too weak to deter them, he would let them beat him, giving you time to escape before returning to you, limping, lip split and nose bloody but the fire in his eyes never faltering.

On those nights, tears of frustration would leak from the corners of your eyes as you cleaned him up. He could so easily stop them if he used his abilities, but by then doing that without being instructed to do so by a highborn would lead to a flogging or a beating - fairytales no longer worked on you at that age, so your commanders and generals utilised fear mongering instead. You remember the hate and helplessness burning inside you when you looked at them: if all the mages rebelled at once, the nobles would have no chance, but everyone was too scared. Using your abilities on humans only led to execution.

You remember Seonghwa: he was a mage a few years older who cared for you and San as if you were his blood. He got too strong - you can’t recall his second ability but his first meant he could push a man over the brink of insanity, until he frothed at the mouth and his brain boiled within his skull. When you first witnessed the depth of his power, you were originally struck by the pain in Seonghwa’s eyes, and then by the fear in your commander’s.

The next day, Seonghwa was gone.

Often, you wonder if he fought back, or if he just let them kill him.

After, you made San promise that he wouldn’t show them if his powers developed further. He made you promise the same, and when you fought beside him, he was a constant reminder to reign yourself in, to survive. You were more careful with your powers from then on.

Some nights, though, when the frost ridden night air cut right through the ragged material of your blanket, you huddled next to San and lit a small fire in your hands. He’d tell you to stop, and you’d point out that he was shivering; he’d reply that he’d rather that than get you caught, and you would ignore him, not missing the way he tucked himself closer to the flame.

You didn’t tell him, but sometimes you would shift into a small animal, like a raccoon, and steal food for him in the dead of night. You didn’t answer when he asked you where you got it from, just shrugging and thrusting the rolls of bread and strips of dried meat into his hands, telling him he should eat.

When you were sixteen, San discovered he could animate his shadows. He could mould them like clay in his hands, breathing purpose into them - they would disintegrate within about a week or so, their outlines fading until they dissolved into nothing. San shaped a little dragon for you, the length of your forearm and the width of one of your thumbs; he came to you with it cupped in his hands, awe limning his face as the two of you watched it wriggle through the air between you and coil itself around your wrist.

You have many memories of those times, but one remains crystal clear, even to this day. A year onwards from San’s dragon, you found yourself hemmed in by enemy forces, your body tired from the fight - victory was so close for your side, and because of it, the Hwangso fought even harder, like cornered animals. If you broke through them, you would have been able to easily end their commander, but they had you, six to one. Hands closed around your throat, choking, and as the consciousness bled from you, you heard San’s cry, smelt the fear in the air as he tore through them to get to you: that in itself would have been insignificant - you had saved each other countless times through the years - but he had disobeyed a direct command.

He’d been told to kill the commander. He’d had a clear shot, and even still, he’d ignored orders, choosing to save you instead.

Both of you were beaten for it, and even as you heard the sound of San’s ribs cracking, he held your eyes, silently telling you that he’d do it over and over again, if only to keep you with him.

You think that was the moment when the two of you truly got a taste for rebellion. It was the point in the long, winding thread of your life that made you realise that whatever they told you, you would disregard it if it were for San. Their words no longer had as much power over you, because you knew your bond with him was infinitely stronger than any fear they attempted to instil within you.

Soon after that incident, your commander retired, and he was replaced by a man who was more of a fool than him. You began to lose land to Hwangso’s troops, far enough that the settlement where you grew up in was ravaged, razed to the ground. Your commander informed you that you’d evacuate the highborns, leaving the child mages and the servants behind because they would only slow you down - that was the moment you decided to stop listening to him.

The last mage rebellion had been decades ago - they were not ready. It was pathetic how easy it was to overthrow them; together with the rest of the troops and the mages from the settlement, you rebuilt the town and fortified it. San treated his soldiers with respect, with loyalty, and they loved him for it, for the way he would march into battle with them instead of cowering at the rear, for the way he could often be seen in the newly restored fields, watering the crops, for the way he recognised them for who they were.

To this day, you’re in awe of it. Never in your whole life have you come close to anything but fear for a leader, and yet you see it clear in their eyes that they love San, and that he loves them. He is everything that the highborns fear - a powerful, confident mage, wreathed in righteous shadows, fiercely intelligent, a master of strategy.

One of his first moves was to ally himself with the Hwangso warlord, the very man who had given him as a gift to your province. Deep in the highborn’s eyes was the presumption that he could break San and make him yield, followed a month later by pure terror when you held a knife to his neck, hissing to never speak of San like that again. The two of you brought his head in a sack to Hwangso and claimed your rule over the province.

That didn’t mean it was easy, though. There were the nights when San would tremble in your arms, baring his fears to you, his doubts - that it was getting too much too fast: that maybe he really was just made to follow orders. You scoffed at that - you’d seen him grow up, watched his shoulders broaden and his figure fill out with muscle, you’d seen the fire in his eyes blazing with passion; you knew he’d always be more than enough.

You’re not sure when the love blossomed between the two of you. Maybe it was always there, first shown as fierce protectiveness, later as searing kisses where no one could see, of fingers laced with yours in the dark of night. He married you shortly after he began to be recognised as an actual warlord, not a rogue mage; it was a quiet ceremony, but the celebrations of your people were far from that - rumours of the Neugdae province’s mage warlord and his wife rippled like wildfire through the regions, stirring fear and hope alike.

Some wonder why San does not take more wives - he has control over the Baem province as well Neugdae and Hwangso now, and any warlord with that much power would take on a harem without blinking. Not San, though - he’s different from them, he is a mage, a lowborn, his bronzed skin a sign to them of his childhood in the fields, and they find he is an enigma, as is his mystery shrouded right hand man.

But not to you - you understand him as if you share a soul.

On the surface, you are his only wife, aloof and coldly beautiful. In the shadows, you are his sword, his hand. There are myths of you, of the fire wielding ghost that robes itself in a black cowl and changes its skin into a man’s worst nightmare; stories of how you will twist your victim’s thoughts around until he finds the tip of a blade poking out of his chest, speared right through his back. It’s how you prefer to operate - they fear the unknown, and you are the unknown.

The fabric of the bag held in your fingers is soaked with blood. Within it is the head of the Yong province’s advisor. He was an awful man who deserved what you gave him - in a locked room at the back of his house, you found several young mages, half starved and chained by wrist and ankle to each other and a hook set in the wall. Bile bites at the back of your throat at the thought: you’re lucky you never experienced the uglier side of mage slavery.

Night is falling, the sun casting long shadows down the road. You always find the darkness comforting - it feels as if San is near. Today he is; you raise your fist and knock thrice on the solid wood of the gates, lifting your hand in recognition of the guards who peek over the turrets.

Slowly, they ease open the doors, and you stride into the courtyard, your boots clicking against the roughly hewn pavings. A squadron of your soldiers are sparring, but they halt their training when you enter, snapping to attention as you stop at the centre of the space, the dying rays of the sun streaming down the steps towards you, the air still as you wait.

He appears, his gilded silhouette glorious at the top of the stairs. His shadow guards spill down the steps towards you as he descends; their bodies contort and bend, the swirling mass of them parting around you, liquid night, jaws snapping, circling you until you’re surrounded.

A smirk pulls at your lips, and you throw the bag at his feet. You do not bow low, simply dipping your chin as he extracts the head from the sack, inspecting it and nodding before returning it to its roughly woven grave and handing it to one of his shadows to take away. Meeting your eyes, his own filled with amusement, the hint of a smile flashes over his face.

‘Welcome home, my love.’

San’s words are soft, voice quiet enough for only you to hear. You suppress the urge to pull down your mask and kiss him, instead letting your fingers brush against his as you walk with him up the steps and into the hanok; his shadows close the door behind you and the moment they do, he hooks an arm around your waist and hugs you tight, his embrace warm and sweet as always.

You laugh. ‘I was only gone four days, Sannie.’

‘Four days too long for me to be separated from my wife,’ he replies, pushing your cowl back so he can kiss your forehead.

Gripping his shoulders, you tug him down so you can peck his lips before sending him out to the courtyard again - you’re the last person expected through the gates tonight, so he should go out and dismiss the mages training in the courtyard so they can go home to their families and lock up. A happy sigh leaves you as you toe off your shoes, walking through your home and stripping off your bloody clothes before submerging yourself in the pool sunken in the floor. San has already filled it with fresh water, and it takes you mere seconds to heat it up with your fire.

Leaning with your head against the wooden ledge of the pool, you let your muscles loosen, half closing your eyes. The silence doesn’t last long, though - there’s a soft, steady noise coming from the screen behind you, almost like… breathing.

‘Show yourself,’ you command into the still air.

A man steps into view - a human, eyes crazed, knife clutched in his fingers. You realise he does not know who you really are; he just assumes you are the mage warlord San’s wife, delicate and helpless, and you let that role engulf you, backing away to the other edge of the pool with your eyes wide, luring him closer.

‘Your man took everything from me,’ he spits, blade pointed at you as he stalks forward. ‘He took my power, my wealth, my squadron of soldiers. And now I will take his wife.’

Surging out of the pool, you dodge the swipe he aims at you, sending fire surging down the knife’s handle so he drops it with a cry and twisting his arm behind his back in the most painful way possible, wrenching him down to his knees with his face an inch above the water.

‘How did you get in?’ You ask coolly.

‘I’ll never tell y - ’

You send tongues of flame licking down his ribs. ‘Answer the question or suffer.’

The door eases open, revealing San. His eyes land on you, water dripping down your body as you pin the man to the floor, then the distorted reflection from the blade of the knife that’s fallen into the pool, and something dangerous flashes inside his gaze. You let him grab your attacker by the front of his shirt, lifting him off his feet as he brings him face to face with him; you see San’s jaw clench, his hands balling into fists.

‘How fucking dare you try to come anywhere near my wife,’ he growls, shadows coalescing behind him.

You can tell he’s about to say something else, but he stops as the man, trembling and fruitlessly clawing at San’s fingers, wets himself. Your husband’s lip curls in disgust, and he drops him at your feet, pressing him down onto his knees and yanking his head up so he is forced to look up at you. Bending down, you breathe in the sheer fear permeating the air, a soft smile on your face.

‘Now, answer the question.’

‘You’re not his wife,’ he whispers, pale.

‘Oh, but I am,’ you sneer. ‘But that’s not the only role I occupy.’

Slowly, his face drains of colour, horror rippling across it as it slowly dawns on him. He recoils in San’s grasp, scrabbling at the floor in a sorry attempt to put distance between you; he has finally realised who you are and he acts like fucking coward, his mouth gaping wide in a silent plea. Unhurried, you fish the knife out from the pool, twirling it around your thumb before gliding it gently over the skin of his throat.

‘I’m getting impatient.’

‘I - I - the guards, they were distracted upon your arrival, I snuck in at the southern perimeter, please don’t - ’

His words dissolve into a weak gurgle when you slice open his throat. Blood gushes from the seams of the wound, dribbling from his lips, and you step back as he tips forward, landing with a wet thump face first on the wooden floor. Glancing up at San, you sigh before getting back in the pool. One of his shadows carries the body away and your husband tugs his clothes off and slides into the water beside you, pulling you into his chest.

‘He did not hurt you, I presume?’

You snort. ‘He tried.’

San’s fingers run thoughtfully up and down your arm. ‘I’ll talk to the guards. I probably shouldn’t have put Jisung on dusk duty while he was recovering from that fever.’

You nod but don’t answer, instead pressing a kiss to his collarbone. He hums, tipping his head back to give you more access as you mouth at his skin, letting your palms wander over his shapely chest, grip his broad shoulders, skim his waist; you trace the many scars all over his body, and he allows you to, his strong hands gripping your hips when you settle in his lap.

He curses low at the feel of your teeth sinking into the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, his hips jerking upwards, and you both groan at the sensation of the underside of his cock grazing your clit. Smirking, you let your tongue lave over the spot where you bit, pressing a kiss to his jaw and pulling back as his hands tighten their grip on your ass.

‘Missed you too, Sannie. Good to know how much you missed me.’

‘So fucking bratty,’ he hisses.

A thrill shoots through you as he stands, the water sluicing in rivulets down the planes of his chest, lifting you and laying you on the edge of the pool, pinning your knees to the wood and spreading you open. The crude way he looks at you is all consuming, his eyes surveying you from where he stands with the water to his mid thigh, watching as your pussy clenches at the sight of him towering over you.

San remains there, just looking at you, and you curve your spine, almost whining in attempt to make him touch you without you asking for it. His lips quirk to the side as you squirm, trying to inch your hips down so you can grind against him, but his fingers tighten on you, refusing you.

‘What is it you require of me, love?’

Finding your attempts unsuccessful, you huff, glaring at him. He loves to do this, make you articulate exactly what you want from him - he likes the flush that heats your cheeks, your body still shy even after all your years with him, he likes the breathy noises you make when he forces you to tell him just what you desire when all you can think of is his dick, he likes it when you can’t help but beg him.

‘Y - your fingers,’ you mumble. ‘And your cock.’

‘Say that louder for me, sweetheart, I didn’t catch the last bit.’

‘Your fingers and your fucking cock,’ you snap - a sorry endeavour at trying to hide how much you love when he inflicts this upon you.

San raises an eyebrow, not moving to touch you. Waiting.

‘Please,’ you add.

He smiles. ‘There we go. Wasn’t so hard, was it?’

Your mouth opens to retort, but he slips his fingers inside you, and your back bows, a soft moan leaving your lips as he sweeps his thumb over your clit, his other hand palming your breasts, his tongue dragging over your skin. Burying your hands in his hair, you tug, making him groan low and deep as you pull him closer.

Delectably, his fingers curl, and you ache for him. San has ruined you for anyone else, he is branded onto your soul and also your body, fading marks from your last time together still slightly visible on your throat - a necklace of love bites, laying claim to you. He catches your chin as he brings you closer to the edge, tasting your moans on his tongue, grinding his palm against your clit.

You keen, coming hard around him, chest heaving, and he smirks, holding your waist as shudders wrack your legs from the aftershocks. The fire in his eyes burns ever brighter, so hot you feel your stomach go molten - your hands tighten on his shoulders, nails raking over his back, your tongue unable to form anything other than his name.

‘You’re always so willing to behave once your pussy’s full, hm?’

‘No, I,’ you start, but cry out when he pinches your clit in warning, the muscles of your thighs jumping as it lances through you, white hot. ‘Y - yes, yes, I am, please - ’

In one fluid movement, San buries himself inside you, sheathing himself until his hips kiss yours. Catching you wrists in his hand, he pins them above your head, and your back arches as he pulls out, agonisingly slowly, every ridge and vein of his cock dragging on your walls before slamming back in, tearing a cry of his name from your chest. Tugging your legs up from where they were wrapped around his waist, he hooks your knees over his shoulders - the new angle makes you sob, writhing beneath him as his cock head drives into perfection, drives you to euphoria.

Sometimes, San makes love to you, but not tonight: tonight he fucks into you mercilessly, traces of possessiveness lacing his actions as he litters your skin with bites, his hands leaving exquisite bruises on your hips. Pleasure tears through you like an arrow through your heart, white hot and maddening, ravenous.

‘You fit around my cock so well,’ he pants. ‘Like you were made for me, sweetheart.’

Something snaps inside you at his words, and as if he senses it, San presses his thumb down hard on your clit, speeding up his thrusts until the air is punched from your lungs. Stars flash before your eyes, and your mouth falls open, toes curling as you come on his cock, your cunt convulsing around him, thighs twitching; he doesn’t stop, just continues ploughing into you, and you tremble, tears slipping down your cheeks at the relentless pound of his hips into yours.

With a gasp, he pulls out and comes over your stomach, his wide shoulders rising and falling with heaving breaths, and you groan as he eases you back into the warm water, a hand cupping the back of your neck as he tucks your head under his chin, sliding his softening cock into you again. Wrapping your arms around him, you press a kiss to his jaw and rest your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

‘How do you feel, my love?’

You nuzzle your face into his shoulder. ‘Good. Really fucking good.’

He laughs, and you bask in the sound of his happiness and the comfort of his warm skin against yours. San’s hands run up and down your spine, soothing, and you smile sleepily; you are home, reunited with your other half, the missing part of your soul.

With San, you are complete.

375 notes · View notes

softpascalito · 7 months ago

Text

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 1 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 7k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: this work has been quite a while in the making and im very excited to finally share the first chapter! a huge thank you to the wonderful josie for being my beta reader and listening to all my rambling <3

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 1 - The Before

‘‘I will be very sad to leave here’, Yves said, suddenly. ‘I have never been happier than I have been in this house.’ ‘I have been very happy too. I wonder if we will ever be so happy again.’’ - Another Country, James Baldwin

You’d been on the run for what felt like weeks but could only have been days when you found the gas station next to an abandoned mall. It had looked promising, the half-rotten advertisements plastered to the walls, reminding your stomach that it had gone far too long without a proper meal, or any meal for that matter.

Maybe if you hadn’t been so starved or so tired, you would’ve heard them coming, the Infected that stormed through the back door practically the moment you slipped into the building. A yell escaped your throat, your hand instinctively reaching for the knife you kept buckled to your leg. You didn't even get the chance to pull it out of its makeshift holster before the creature was on top of you, pinning you to the floor with what felt like inhuman strength.

“Fucking- get off-” you grunted, but even if the thing on top of you had been one that listened to commands, your thin and shaky voice likely wouldn’t have impressed it.

So this was how you were gonna go out. In a town you couldn't even name, somewhere in the snowy mountains of Wyoming, after finally escaping the life you’d been stuck in for so long. You hadn't even made it a month.

For a second, you considered trying to reach for your gun, still tucked into your pants and pressing into your back uncomfortably. You could feel its outline against your skin, a pain shooting through your spine as the Infected seemed to double its effort to reach your neck with its mouth, half-rotten teeth close enough that you could recognize the foul smell of death.

Then, the gun went off. Or you thought it did. The unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang in your ears as the Infected collapsed on top of you. But the feeling of your pistol pressing into your back was still there. It had been a gun. But not yours.

“I got her!” a voice above you bellowed out, an unmistakable southern drawl. “Tommy, give me some cover here, goddammit!”

You hadn't even noticed the second man, who was now aiming his gun at another runner storming towards him. He fired, once, twice, and the Infected let out a howl before its body hit the tiled floor with a thud.

“Hey, you with me?” The man above you leaned down, shoving the Infected that had been on top of you to the side unceremoniously. He was dressed in a worn jacket, jeans and boots, the latter two splattered with blood. His right hand, covered in a weathered leather glove, was stretched out towards you, an invitation to, well, you weren't exactly sure.

“She good?”

The second man approached the pair of you, your eyes flying over to him for a split moment. He was dressed similarly, except that he looked a little younger than his partner. He shouldered his rifle and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Your gaze flew back to the man in front of you, to the brown eyes that carried an unexpectedly gentle look, not quite matching the gruff way he looked. Shaking slightly, you placed your hand in his, and the next moment, he was pulling you to your feet.

“There you are.”

You nodded, a motion that looked more like your head was jerking on its own accord. But the man seemed to accept it. As the other one stepped towards you, the taller of the two men spoke again.

“You clean?” When no response came, he pressed on, his tone getting a little more impatient. “Did it bite you? Scratch you anywhere?”

The other one gently placed a hand on his chest, forcing your attention onto himself. “Can you walk? Our horses are two houses over, we've got a place where you can rest, get some food-”

“I'm not going anywhere with you,” you blurted out. You'd had your fair share of people, of men offering you ‘help’ and it never stopped there. There was payment, always. In this world, it was stupid to think there wouldn't be, that anyone would help you out of the kindness of their hearts.

“You're not going anywhere else by the looks of it, either,” the man with the gloves muttered, more than loud enough for you to hear. “You won't last a week.”

“I've lasted longer, asshole,” you shot back, suddenly angry at the stranger in front of you. He didn't know you, he didn't know the things you'd gone through to get here. So what if he had saved your life? It didn't give him the right to predict your death.

The other man nudged his ribs, extending his hand to you as well, though it was more of a formality this time.

“Name’s Tommy. The asshole is my brother Joel.”

He paused for a moment, clearly thinking about how to approach this the right way. “Look, I'm sure you've been traveling for quite some time. We can give you a place to recover. You can leave anytime, I promise.”

You eyed him carefully. It did sound too good to be true. But it also did sound- good. A roof over your head, warm food in your stomach- two things you'd been craving for quite some time.

“Okay.”

The man who had introduced himself as Tommy gave a short nod and led the way to the horses, following tracks in the snow the two men had left while coming to your rescue. Joel pulled up the rear and you had a feeling that his eyes were trained on you, watching carefully, maybe for a twitch or anything else out of the ordinary. Again, you weren't sure why, but it made you angry.

“I told you I wasn't bit,” you repeated in his direction as Tommy began untying the horses.

Joel raised a brow, clearly surprised by the attitude in your voice. “‘ts what they usually say.”

“Well, I'm not,” you replied, turning your back on him and focusing on his brother instead. Tommy pretended not to have heard either of you but somehow you were certain he had.

“C’mon, you can ride with me. It's not too far.”

Not too far turned out to be a good hour, the crisp autumn air making you shiver, and you were thankful for the warmth of both the horse and Tommy. But what the ride lacked in temperature it made up for in views, the sun coming out just as you passed the first sign that read ‘Jackson County’.

You didn't even mind Joel's occasional glances towards you as much, finding that with the sunlight playing in his brown curls, his look screamed less of danger and more of concern. Whether it was concern for Tommy or you or something entirely different, you weren't sure.

The answer came to you in the form of your housing arrangements. After getting over the first shock of riding up a busy mainstreet in what looked like an actual, functioning town, a thing you hadn't thought possible anymore, you had made use of what must have been the first functioning toilet you'd seen in months. You felt like a child being steered through the crowd at a busy carnival, if the food hall, the functioning plumbing and electricity and the music drifting from one of the smaller shops was any indication.

“You know we ain't got any unoccupied places and Maria and mine’s no good with the baby screaming all night,” Tommy muttered urgently and you frowned a little. The two men were standing a few feet away, clearly unaware that you were already back and you awkwardly shoved your hands in your pockets, considering going back inside for a moment. But then Joel opened his mouth and you couldn't help but listen in on their conversation. The older man seemed as much a mystery as the entire scene around you.

Tommy piped up before Joel even had a chance to argue. “It's just for a couple of nights. I’m sure Ellie and you will manage. You take her in, explain the basics and as soon as we got a place, you can go back to shutting yourself off from every goddamn person in this town-”

“I don’t-” Joel interrupted before shaking his head, a low grunt leaving his throat.

“Fine. Until Thursday, no longe-” He broke off at the look on Tommys face, one that was aimed directly at you. You shyly nodded in his direction and closed the distance between you in a few quick steps.

The younger man cleared his throat, giving you a reassuring smile. “Find everything okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied politely. You hated how forced the conversation felt, already regretting listening in on it at all.

“Joel here’s gonna get you settled for the night, you let him know if you need anything else. I'll stop by in the morning and introduce you to Maria, she’s-”

“The boss,” Joel finished for him, earning a small glare from Tommy.

“One of our elected leaders,” he corrected, another smile playing around his lips at the mention of what you assumed must be his wife. “Well, I'll leave ya two to it.”

Joel took you home. He still gave you that look, and with Tommy gone, you could be sure that it was actually aimed towards you. It was like he was still on guard but whether it was of you or something else, you couldn't tell.

“Here's how this is gonna go,” he started as he fumbled with the front door of the house clad in white. “You get a quick check-up, a shower, some fresh clothes- you get the idea.”

“I get the idea,” you repeated as he led you into the hallway, unable to keep yourself from glancing around for a moment, catching a peek of the dining room. “You live here by yourself?”

“Why?”

His question hit you out of nowhere and you stuttered for a moment, racking your brain for a good response, “Just- I was making conversation. Jesus.”

“Right,” Joel nodded, his gaze softening a bit. He placed his bag onto the floor and tapped his right thigh absent-mindedly. “Come on, follow me.”

He took you into the upstairs bathroom that smelled faintly of soap, reminding you that you hadn't had a proper wash in more days than you cared to count. There were a few small containers, mostly re-used mason jars, that were labeled ‘shampoo’ or ‘body wash’, sitting orderly on the small shelf next to the tub.

You felt more than heard Joel shift behind you and turned to meet his gaze. He was still watching, arms crossed, seemingly waiting for something.

“Do I- shower?” you asked softly and he sighed a little at that.

“I need to check you for bites.” His voice was low but still carried a small note of sternness in it.

Oh, right.

“I didn't agree to that.”

You could see his hand twitch, the handle of his revolver still sticking out the back of his jeans. “You're bit.”

It was more of a statement than anything else, like he already knew what was waiting for him under your clothes, maybe a bite on your leg, a scratch on your stomach. Joel had dealt with enough people that had been marked for death like that to know the signs of it. The thing was, he was wrong.

“Is this what it is?” you asked, quietly, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Excuse me?”

“Is that why you go outside, save people? So you can bring them back here, get them to take their clothes off for you-”

“Whoa-” Joel held up both hands, shaking his head very slowly. “I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I need to check you for bites, it’s protocol.” His voice was still deep, that southern drawl you heard earlier in the gas station still present but somehow softer. His features had shifted, seeming genuinely surprised by the turn of your conversation.

“Now, if you want someone else to do it, I can get a lady and let her look you over. We just want to be sure we don’t bring Infected in, that's all.”

“That's all?” you asked as he kept his eyes trained on you, his hands still up in the air and his expression soft.

“I swear, that's all. If you can show me you're not bit, I'll get you that shower, some food, you name it.”

You gave a small nod at that, your body deflating a little. It had been an incredibly long day and the man in front of you seemed genuine. If he wasn't, you could still try and bail.

Joel turned slightly under the pretense of grabbing a towel from below the sink but you knew he was attempting to give you a bit of privacy- even though he clearly didn’t trust you enough to fully turn his back on you. With shaky hands, you began to strip, holding back a wince as you forced your bruised body to move. The fabric of your shirt clung to your skin, dry blood forcing another whimper out of your throat.

You felt Joel's head snap towards you at that but ignored him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of showing quite how uncomfortable you felt about going through this with him next to you.

He was quick and professional, his large hands brushing over your skin as he made sure you were clean.

“All good,” he commented shortly when he was satisfied, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he reached for a stack of folded towels. Then, his gaze rested on your head again, more specifically, on your matted hair.

“You want me to get someone to cut that for you? Might be easier than-”

“No,” you quickly piped up. You knew your body was malnourished and likely had a dozen other things wrong with it. You didn’t want to lose your hair too.

Joel nodded, his hand absent-mindedly trailing over a particularly nasty knot. “I think I got some soap conditioner in the closet. You want to give that a try?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you responded curtly and Joel disappeared from the room for a few moments. He came back, as promised, with a soap smelling of jasmine and cotton.

He didn’t seem as hesitant, now that he knew you weren’t bit. At least that’s what you assumed had caused the shift in him. It didn’t occur to you that it might be the fact that you were sitting on his bathroom tiles, shivering, assuming the worst in him, in men, hell, in society. That you looked like a wounded deer, ready to take off at the slightest notion of danger, no matter how badly you were already bleeding.

Joel was a lot more gentle than you would have expected a man of his build to be. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, reaching just far enough to cover your entire hair, but never letting any conditioner run down onto your face. It made you wonder if he was a father. Then you remembered his brother had mentioned a girl earlier, Ellie. Still, you knew better than to ask. You’d likely be gone in a few days anyway.

But, there was one question that you couldn’t keep from slipping out of your mouth.

“Why did you think I was bit?”

Joel paused for a moment, his fingers slowing down ever so slightly as he seemed to think about his words.

“You weren’t fighting hard enough. To stay alive, I mean. You were acting like someone who knows that their time is up.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you. You felt his hand brush over the crown of your head, lathering the matted mess that was your hair with soap in small, circular motions.

“I thought it was,” you whispered, honestly. You couldn't bring yourself to lie to him. But you couldn't bring yourself to explain it either.

He didn’t ask.

Neither of you spoke again until you were curled up in his bed, him insisting to take the couch for the night. He’d fed you some soup, relieved when he saw that your stomach could handle that. He’d warned you that it might not, after getting so used to going days without food. You’d gotten some worn but warm clothes to wear after the shower and now your body was sinking into an actual mattress. It was more than you’d dreamed of just that morning.

Joel paused in the doorway, his hand tapping against his jeans, a habit you had already picked up on. It was like he didn’t know what to do with his hands when they weren’t holding a gun.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said quietly. “You know that, right?”

Your mouth went dry as you tried to keep your tone nonchalant. His expression told you that it wasn't exactly working. “Who said I was leaving?”

“You look like you will.”

Again, a quiet fell over you and you shook your head softly. “What, you were a psychologist before or something?”

He smiled weakly. “Contractor.”

After a short pause, he went on. “I know it's hard to- to trust. When ya first get here. I felt the same.”

You felt a small breath leave your throat at that. “But it gets better?”

“There's hot water, three meals a day, fair working conditions. I don't think it gets much better out there,” he pointed out softly before giving you a small nod.

“I'll be downstairs if you need anything. Good night.”

27 months later

The almost-empty soap sits on your bathroom shelf, the one that’s screwed to the wall just above the worn-out bathtub. You’ve gotten it refilled every few months, sometimes sooner if you wanted to allow yourself a little treat. It still reminds you of your first day in Jackson, of the safety that you so quickly felt in every room of Joel's house.

You still have some time before you have to head to work and the blue sky promises a cold but clear day so you decided to go and check if you’re in luck with any available refills today. Stock always changes throughout the week and while there’s usually something available, you prefer to get your chosen products if possible.

No such luck.

“Sorry, we’re all out. Think patrols cleared out the store that had these a while ago,” the woman behind the counter says apologetically. “We have some others if you’d like to try a new one, there’s-”

“I’m good,” you quickly insist, giving her a small smile when you notice you may have sounded a little harsh. “I’ll just wait and see if some more comes in.”

In one quick motion, you turn around and head towards the door- only to run face-first into a broad chest draped in a thick, brown coat.

“Whoa.” The deep voice above you immediately sends a gentle warmth through your body and you take a small step back to be able to squint up at the man you bumped into.

“Sorry, Texas, didn't see you there.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Joel mutters weakly, fumbling with the small bag he is carrying before handing it over to the woman behind the counter. She thanks him and quickly begins to sort the items he has brought back from patrol. He’s wearing the thick coat you see on him whenever it drops below freezing, his dark boots leaving small pieces of wet mud on the floor of the small store. He’s been doing the creek trails then, most likely.

You’ve rarely been on patrol yourself, focusing your energy more on tasks inside the community. If it hadn’t been for Joel, you know you probably would have taken off in the first few days, maybe stolen some food and been on your way. But he’d gotten you to stay. With him, for a few days. Then they had found space for you in a small guesthouse close to the mainstreet, to be shared with a young woman not unlike yourself that had offered up her vacant bedroom.

You’d taken an instant liking to Lane. Joel had dropped you off at your new home, with the few things you owned, and you and her had both stood in the small kitchen in awkward silence, racking your brains for a good conversation starter. Of course, you’d come up with the one she probably heard every other day.

“I like your hair.”

It wasn’t a lie. Her hair was cut short but thick, and most importantly, it was blue. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen colored hair. It seemed to fit her though. The roots were brown and the overall color a little less vibrant than you’d seen in magazines of people before the outbreak. If anything, you liked this more.

“Thanks,” she said lamely, twisting her hand around the small cup she was holding. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m the worst at social shit,” she finally blurted out and it looked like she was half glad to admit it and half afraid of your reaction.

“Don’t worry. Me too,” you admitted, a grin spreading over both your faces, the silence seeming a lot more bearable now. She shrugged towards the counter, half a dozen muffins sitting on it. “You like blueberries? A friend let me nick these.”

She paused for a moment, brushing a strand of blue hair behind her ear. “I mean, technically they’re not real blueberries, the ground here is too dry for those. I think they’re called juneberries, but we never call them that.”

You figured she’d be a solid roommate if she’d just met you and was already sharing her sweets. Half an hour later, when you had vomited the blueberry muffins back up in your shared bathroom, Joel’s warning about solid food still ringing in your ears, when she was standing beside you, holding your hair back and handing you a washcloth when you were finished, you knew she’d be more than a roommate. She’d be your friend.

She had also been the one to get you into teaching. You’d been fascinated when she first told you about her job in town, teaching the children of Jackson practically every subject she could. Neither of you had been in school before the outbreak so it was all the more impressive, the way she managed to control a class without the need to get loud or hand out punishments.

You’d taken a liking to the classrooms of Jackson as well, reminiscing on the last summer before the world had gone to shit and the way you’d looked forward to being in school, learning all the things big girls did. Not getting to sit in a classroom, and you didn’t count those at FEDRA as actual classrooms, had been only one of so many things you felt you had missed out on.

So it felt even more special now when, after you got Maria to assign you as teacher alongside Lane, you spent your days in the colorfully decorated classrooms, teaching a variety of subjects and a variety of ages. It was similar to life in Jackson, not without its fair amount of challenges. But, just as Joel had promised the first night, you learned to trust and the more you did, the easier it was to let yourself be. Above all, to let yourself be happy.

Joel steps outside alongside you, his head jerking back towards the small supply store. “Did ya get everything?”

His voice is soft, and you like to imagine that he sounds a little more gentle when speaking to you compared to the others. Not that you see him talking to a lot of people either way. You're pretty sure it's why he prefers the patrols, less people to bother him and less voices to listen to. Even though you had a feeling, about a year after you arrived in Jackson, that he also preferred being paired up with Esther, a pretty woman who took care of the horses and frequented the patrols. Especially those with Joel.

You had almost hoped for them to end up together, to drive the images of Joel alone at his too large dining table out of your head. But they didn't and the images stayed. You had him over for dinner, every other month. It started as a thank-you for helping you through your first days and quickly developed into a rare but regular thing. Ellie or Lane joined you occasionally, happy to get a nice home-cooked dinner and some of the wine Joel usually brought along.

You didn't see too much of him outside of your little gatherings, only the normal occasions that presented themself around town. But it was nice to know that he was there, that he would bring his wine and compliment your cooking and make small-talk and listen to the new developments of your life.

“It makes sense for you to be a teacher,” he’d agreed after you’d updated him on your new position, causing you to raise a brow.

“What is that supposed to mean? Think I can’t handle myself out on the group patrols?”

His face slowly changed at that, Joel urgently shaking his head, “I didn't mean-”

You cut him off with a small laugh, no longer able to stay serious at how panicked he looked. “I’m messing with you, old man. I know what you meant. I think it makes sense too. I like it.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, grumbling a little under his breath.

It's Joel's voice that brings you back to the present. “I asked if you got everything?”

You shake your head to get rid of the thoughts, then it turns to shaking your head no. “They’re out of conditioner. But it’s fine, I can stretch mine a bit longer and maybe they’ll get some next week.”

“Ya still using the same one?” Joel asks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat and you nod. It's sweet that he remembers. It's been over two years, after all.

“Yeah. Liked it, never saw a reason to switch,” you explain lamely. He only gives a short nod, motioning for you to follow as he starts walking.

You do, though perplexed. “School’s in the other direction.” “Thought your class didn’t start until ten today,” he points out. It never appears to you to ask how or why he knows this. When your steps slow down and your thoughts speed up simultaneously, he nudges you along.

“You want your soap or not?” he grumbles and your face lights up a little at that.

“You got some?”

Joel gives another quick nod. “Brought them back a few weeks ago. I would’ve given them to you if I knew ya still used them.”

You trot beside him like a puppy, making your way down Rancher Street and up the flight of stairs that leads to the small house clad in white. The noise of the wind chimes tied to a beam above his front porch drifts over to you, the gentle breeze creating a slow melody.

You haven’t been in his upstairs bathroom for years. It’s odd and it feels too intimate, seeing the place where he brushes his teeth in the morning, where he washes himself after a long day. You don't belong in a space this personal. You don't belong to him.

It felt different when you were curled up on the same white tiles, letting him check your bruised and battered body for signs of Infection. For a split moment, it did feel like you belonged, in a way.

Joel's hand brushes over yours as he hands you the soap, the one smelling of jasmine and cotton and safety.

The rest of the day is a blur of lessons and grading, but the smell of the soap seems to linger, the comforting feeling in your stomach getting you through the work day. It doesn’t end until seven with you staying behind to tutor some kids for an upcoming exam and then to finish preparing said exam. The smell of food fills the air as you open your front door and you smile as you poke your head into the kitchen, “Smells good.”

Lane is seated at the table, a few papers in front of her. Likely an exam of her own, you think to yourself. Even after the world has ended, finals season still exists.

“My mum made that pasta you like so much today. Figured I'd save you some,” she says, nodding towards the tupperware sitting on the counter.

“You're an angel.” You whistle as you head deeper into the house, putting away your jacket and bag, fishing the soap out of the latter and placing it on the bathroom shelf. It makes you pause for a moment. You give a nod to yourself at the sight of the refilled container and make a silent vow to treat yourself to a nice bath today.

An hour later, your stomach is filled with warm pasta, the bathroom damp with steam and your hair soft, smelling just the way you like it. The clock in the small hallway reminds you that it's already past twelve and the knowledge that tomorrow is another day filled with teaching makes you want to crawl into bed fairly quickly. But you're thirsty.

Lane is still in the kitchen, her blue hair a little messy and crowned with a pair of headphones. The music spills out a bit, enough for you to be able to hear the low, steady humming of a song that seems mildly familiar.

You do remember a few songs from before the Outbreak- mainly the ones they played on the radio. But you know that Lane doesn’t, being a few years younger than you, meaning that she barely has any memories of the before.

You're already in your pajamas, shuffling to the sink to pour yourself a glass of water. Somehow it always tastes better at night. Or maybe your brain is playing tricks on you.

“Hey, you remember Joel is coming over for dinner on Sunday, right?” you ask with your back to your friend. When no response comes, you gulp down the last bit of water and turn around, giving a small wave in the air between you.

Lane sits up a little more, pushing one side of her headphones back just enough to free her ear. “Hm?”

“Dinner with Joel, Sunday,” you repeat, a yawn escaping you.

After a moment, she nods. “Right, I remember. We’re out of blueberries again, by the way.”

“I’ll make sure to restock this weekend then,” you agree, already halfway across the room. You give another small wave and finally head to bed. It looks exactly the same way you left it this morning, the blanket tucked into one side, the pillows arranged against the headboard.

“It's so good to be home,” you mutter to yourself as you crawl under the covers, stretching your body a little. Your left hand reaches for your nightstand and finds the book you've been reading, hoping to get just a tiny bit further tonight. With all the work and the winter festival coming up, you’ve barely made progress, the wooden bookmark still sitting near the front. You put it aside, glancing down at the finely carved piece of woodwork for a moment. Joel gave it to you for your first birthday in Jackson. Then you open the book properly, the worn-out spine cracking slightly. Just a couple of minutes.

But your eyes start to droop after just a few pages. After half a chapter, you're in a deep slumber, the book slipping out of your hands and onto the wooden floor below just as the front door slips shut.

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mydearlybeloathed · 1 year ago

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Helloooo! I enjoy your stuff a whole lot and I was wondering if I could ask for a scenario where a rescued reader is on the sunny/merry feeling really homesick so she shyly asks sanji if he could cook her up a meal from her homeland. Then when she bites into it she starts crying cause shes so happy? Im in a fluffy sorta sentimental mood (*⌒∇⌒*)

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after being rescued by the strawhats, you find yourself homesick one morning, and sanji has a foolproof cure.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sanji x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: food, smoking

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Your thoughts were being more of a bully than usual. You suspected it was because of how you stood at the edge of the Going Merry’s afterdeck, staring out at the water with an air of melancholy about you.

You’re much too sad for a woman rescued, your thoughts would taunt.

But you couldn’t help it! Of course you were more than grateful to have been rescued from your captors by the crew of pirates known as the Strawhats.

You thanked them every chance you had, asked what you could do to help at every turn—most of the time they just smiled and told you to relax. I can’t, you would say. I’ve forgotten how.

So now you stood on the deck of the Going Merry, grateful even through this terrible sorrow washing through you.

The sea breeze reminded you of home. The gull’s cry reminded you of home. The sound of Zoro and Sanji’s bickering reminded you of home. Everything was a reminder of the little village of your childhood… and how you’d never get it back.

It was burned—slaughtered—by the very pirates that took you away from it.

There was nothing left to return to. So yes, you snapped back at your thoughts, I’m homesick. If that made you ungrateful, so be it.

“You,” said a charmingly familiar voice, “look like you could use a friend.”

Sanji leaned on the railing of the afterdeck, nudging you with his shoulder. You ducked your chin and let your hair fall around your face, if only to conceal your grin.

“I could use a cigarette,” you mumbled, receiving that smooth chuckle of his in reply.

He complied, slipping his lighter and cigarette box out of his coat pocket, lighting one with practiced ease and handing it off to you. You didn’t try to ignore how he watched you take that first puff, something almost fond in the way he looked at you, before he followed suit in lighting his own.

He’s very fond of you, said your thoughts, to which you replied, He’s Sanji. He’s very fond of everyone.

That didn’t stop you from being very fond of him in return.

After some time in silence, he posed a question. “What’s on your mind?”

You didn’t have the heart to lie. “Home.”

“Oh.” He knew what had happened to your village. He was the one you’d sobbed to on your first night on the Going Merry, after he’d caught you trying to slip out on a dinghy in the night. Sanji had taken your hand and led you to the kitchen, letting you get out all your worries as he made you some food.

“Yeah,” you sniffled. “It’s fine, though. I’m okay.”

He stared at you for a long moment, before he turned his face away and said, “I know a cure for homesickness, you know.”

Skeptical, you side eyed him. “You do?”

“Mhmm.” He leaned into your ear and whispered, “Food.”

You laughed softly as he gently took your wrist and started to lead you away from the railing. Though confused, you didn’t fight, walking beside him as his hand slipped perfectly into yours. “Sanji?”

The man took you all the way into the belly of the ship and right to his workshop: the kitchen. You stood in the center of the room as he rounded the counter and turned to smile at you. “C’mon. What do you want? Let’s make it.”

Something about that let’s was powerful. Sanji didn’t just let anyone use his kitchen, especially with him. He had his own rhythm, and there had been countless times he’d snapped when anyone so much as slightly disrupted him.

He’d never snapped at you though, and you certainly had a knack for disruption.

For a good solid moment, all you could do was stand and stare. Sanji kept on smiling, the expression growing warmer and softer with each second. Softly, you told him your favorite dish from your hometown, glancing up through your lashes to find him fishing around for pots and pans.

“I think that can be arranged, madam.”

Some time later, the kitchen was thick with smells of a superficial kind of home—no matter how you closed your eyes and focused, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe you were actually there. You were always drawn away from your fantasy by the sway of the ship and the song Sanji hummed.

And now you sat side by side at the table, the fruit of your joint labor plated before you, yet you could barely even look at the food.

Your thoughts called you a coward while your heart mourned something you will never have again.

But Sanji was so kind, and the food smelled really good, so you closed your eyes and took that first bite, all too aware of how Sanji eyed you like a hawk the whole time.

You melted as the flavors filled your senses—in an instant you were catapulted back to a simpler time, seated at the counter with your mother, grinning over a plate of food so similar to this. That countertop was gone now. She was gone now. Everything was gone, yet you remained.

You were the last reminder of the home you loved.

Tears started to stream down your cheeks before you could stop them, swallowing down the food as your fork clanked onto the table. You crumbled in your seat and prayed with everything in you that Sanji somehow wouldn’t notice.

It was a foolish wish; Sanji noticed everything.

“Love, what…” he couldn’t find the words, his whole chest seized as he caught sight of glistening tears. “Is it that bad?”

You laughed a broken sort of sound. “Please. Everything you make is ambrosia.”

Wiping at your cheeks and turning away, you didn’t expect it when Sanji reached for your hand and wrapped it up in both of his. You widely met his eyes instantly and wondered how a person’s hand could be so warm that it sent a wave of heat throughout your entire body.

Or maybe it wasn’t his hand. Maybe it was the way he lifted one hand to hold your cheek, thumb swiping away the last of the tears, allowing you to clutch his other hand so tightly.

He observed you a little longer, then sighed. “Home?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned into his hand, another wave of tears spilling down. And then you were drawn forward, enveloped in his arms, hidden from the world. For some time, you sat there, awkwardly leaned into him as you both remained in your chairs, your hands ruining his neatly ironed dress shirt, his hands rubbing circles into your back.

That’s when you found your thoughts to be unusually quiet. Now all you heard was your own heartbeat racking through your ribcage. Your face was dry and you felt tender and warm.

“I know we haven’t talked about it,” said Sanji rather out of the blue. “Other than the offhand mention of the best port to find work… what if… I mean, we all enjoy your company—some of us more than others—some of us being me—and I think…” He took a breath, pulling away with a little smile. “I think you should stay.”

A sniffle. A blink. A very long hesitation wherein Sanji felt more panicked than he had in a very long time.

“Okay.”

Sanji huffed a chuckle. “Really?”

“I have nowhere else to go,” you shrugged. His head tilted just slightly, eyes prodding at you. “And I might enjoy everyone’s company too.”

Sanji wondered, “Anyone in particular though?”

You leaned back and cast your gaze back to the plate of food, probably cold by now. “Zoro isn’t too annoying.”

He scoffed. “Hate to disagree.”

“Liar,” you teased, barely able to conceal your grin. “Zoro’s also sort of boring after a while. I like talking.” Your cheeks dusted pink then, but you didn’t back down, looking up at him through your lashes. “I like talking to you.”

His smile could have kept you alive in the darkest winter storm. “Lucky for you, I’ve been told I never shut up.”

You rolled your eyes and shifted on your seat, taking up your fork and admiring the food. You’d made this together, and you could only hope it wasn’t the last time you joined him in the kitchen. There was something so softly domestic about it. So softly home, whispered your thoughts, back again for a fleeting moment.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

He nudged you gently, inching his own forgotten plate toward him as well. “For what?”

“Being here.” All was still, contentment filling the silence, before there was a soft pressure on your temple; a kiss, you realized, turning a dark crimson as you whipped your head around to stare at the man beside you.

A thousand words threatened to spill from your lips, some incoherent and some so flirty you paled to think of them, before you let out a deep breath and felt your lips tilting up at the corners.

“Always,” said Sanji. His blue eyes bore into you and right through to your heart, which thundered once more.

Your thoughts were silent, for all but one, a very loud and frightening and lovely thought: Sanji was starting to feel like home.

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