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rafeskai · 6 days ago

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Not Now, Not Ever | Rafe Cameron

Summary: After a tense run-in with the cops, reader is injured while trying to escape, and Rafe reluctantly steps in to help. Though initially distant, Rafe's care and honesty break through the reader's defenses, revealing a vulnerability neither of them expected. As they face the aftermath together, the tension between them intensifies.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Warnings: Profanities

Author's Note: Requested by Anon!

The thing about Rafe Cameron was that he always seemed untouchable. Born into privilege, raised on Figure Eight with a golden spoon in his mouth and a name that opened doors, he was the embodiment of everything you didn’t have. And yet, he was the storm you could never quite outrun.

You hadn’t meant to cross paths with him. Your world—chaotic, messy, and a little too close to the edge—didn’t belong anywhere near his. But life in Kildare had a way of throwing people together, whether they fit or not.

It started months ago, on a humid summer night at one of those wild beach parties you swore you’d stop going to. The sand was packed with bodies, the air heavy with the scent of salt and cheap beer. You were nursing your third drink of the night, watching the waves crash against the shore, when Rafe stumbled into your line of sight.

He looked like trouble—disheveled blond hair, a cocky smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and an energy that screamed recklessness. You’d heard the stories about him, the whispered warnings. Stay away from Rafe Cameron. He’s bad news.

You should have listened.

But when his sharp blue eyes locked onto yours across the bonfire, something shifted. It wasn’t a spark; it was a collision—two opposing forces drawn together by some unseen magnetism. He swaggered over, drink in hand, and before you knew it, you were trading barbs and sidelong glances, the tension between you electric.

“You don’t belong here,” he’d said, his tone teasing but laced with something darker.

“And you do?” you shot back, refusing to back down.

That was the first of many encounters. Somehow, despite your better judgment, you kept running into him. At parties, in the middle of town, even at the gas station late one night when you were buying snacks to fuel another all-night gaming session.

The dynamic between you was always the same: sharp words and stolen glances, a push and pull that left you dizzy. He got under your skin in a way no one else could, peeling back your defenses with a smirk or a well-placed comment. And yet, there was something about him—something vulnerable beneath the bravado—that kept you from walking away.

Rafe, for all his arrogance, seemed fascinated by you too. He’d ask questions he had no right to ask, dig into your life like he was trying to understand what made you tick. You never gave him straight answers, but you had a feeling he saw through your deflections.

One night, after too many drinks and an argument that left you both seething, he’d grabbed your arm as you turned to leave. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” he’d spat, his voice low and dangerous.

You’d stared at him, something raw and unspoken passing between you. “No,” you’d said quietly. “I think we’re both just really, really fucked up.”

He hadn’t let go right away. And in the silence that followed, something unspoken settled between you—a fragile truce, an understanding that you were both running from something neither of you wanted to name.

But your worlds were still too different. While you spent your days trying to keep your life from spiraling further out of control, Rafe seemed to thrive in the chaos. He was fire to your gasoline, and every time you got too close, you felt the heat.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That the stolen glances and lingering touches were just part of the game he liked to play. But late at night, when the world was quiet and you were alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t stop wondering: What would happen if you let yourself fall?

You never got the chance to find out.

The months passed, and the tension between you remained unresolved.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The moon hung low in the sky, its silvery glow casting eerie shadows across the tangled maze of Kildare’s backstreets. You had been here before—ducking between alleyways, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. But tonight was different. Tonight, you weren’t just out of luck. You were out of time.

The piercing sound of sirens grew louder, echoing through the quiet night, chasing you like a predator. The adrenaline pumping through your veins was the only thing keeping you upright. Your knees ached from the sprint, but you couldn’t stop now. Not when the alternative was cuffs and a mugshot.

You cursed under your breath, your mind racing as you turned a sharp corner and slipped into a narrow alleyway. It was dark and cramped, but it gave you a moment to catch your breath. Pressing your back against the cold, damp wall, you counted the seconds, hoping—praying—that the cops would pass you by.

Then, the unmistakable sound of heavy boots crunching gravel reached your ears.

Damn it.

Panic clawed at your chest as you scrambled to move, but in your haste, your foot caught on a loose brick. The ground rushed up to meet you, and you landed hard, pain flaring through your ankle and shoulder. You bit back a cry, clutching your injured arm as you tried to push yourself upright.

"Shit," you hissed, blinking back tears of frustration. There was no way you could outrun them now.

“Having fun down there?”

The voice came from above you, sharp and dripping with sarcasm. You looked up, squinting through the darkness, and your stomach sank when you recognized the silhouette. Rafe Cameron stood at the end of the alley, arms crossed, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. His piercing blue eyes practically glowed in the dim light, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth made your blood boil.

Of all the people to stumble across you in this mess, it had to be him.

“Great. Just my luck,” you muttered, dragging yourself to your feet with a wince.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to your injured arm. “Looks like you’ve had a rough night.”

“No shit,” you snapped, brushing dirt off your jeans. You glanced nervously toward the street, where the sirens seemed to be growing louder. “And I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got places to be.”

He didn’t move. Just leaned against the wall, watching you with that infuriatingly smug expression. “You’re not going anywhere like that.”

“I’ll manage.” You tried to take a step, but your ankle buckled beneath you, sending you stumbling forward. Before you could hit the ground again, a strong hand shot out to catch you.

You stared up at him, startled, as he steadied you. His grip was firm but careful, and for a moment, his usual arrogance was replaced by something almost… concerned.

“Careful,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “You’re gonna hurt yourself worse.”

You jerked away from him, your cheeks burning. “I don’t need your help.”

“Right,” he drawled, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Because limping around on a busted ankle is working out so well for you.”

“Why do you care, anyway?” you shot back, glaring at him. “Last I checked, you weren’t exactly the Good Samaritan type.”

He shrugged, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and tucking it behind his ear. “Maybe I’m bored. Or maybe I just don’t feel like watching you get arrested.”

“Touching,” you said dryly, but the truth was, you were too exhausted—and too hurt—to argue. The pain in your ankle was unbearable, and your shoulder wasn’t much better. If you didn’t get out of here soon, you’d be spending the night in a cell.

Rafe must have seen the resignation in your eyes because he sighed, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “Come on. My truck’s around the corner. I’ll get you out of here.”

You hesitated, staring at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Why would you do that?”

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Let’s just say I’ve been in your shoes before.”

That wasn’t exactly comforting, but it wasn’t like you had any better options. With a reluctant nod, you let him drape your arm over his shoulders, his other hand sliding around your waist to support you. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and despite everything, a strange warmth spread through you.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he muttered as he helped you limp toward his truck.

By the time you reached it, the sirens had faded into the distance, leaving the night eerily quiet. Rafe opened the passenger door and helped you climb in, his hands lingering a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back.

As he started the engine, you leaned your head against the window, exhaustion overtaking you. You didn’t trust him—probably never would—but for now, you were grateful.

“Where are we going?” you asked softly.

“Somewhere safe,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

The rumble of the truck's engine filled the silence as Rafe drove through the dark, deserted streets. You fought to keep your eyes open, the adrenaline of the chase fading and leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of pain through your injured shoulder and ankle, but you bit your lip to keep from making a sound.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though the sharp sting in your shoulder said otherwise.

“Right,” he said, unconvinced. “Well, we’re almost there.”

You didn’t bother asking where “there” was. Arguing with Rafe Cameron was like shouting into the void—completely pointless. Instead, you stared out the window, watching the familiar streets give way to the isolated backroads of Figure Eight. The trees grew thicker, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, and the only light came from the truck’s headlights slicing through the darkness.

When Rafe finally pulled into the driveway of a small, secluded cabin, you frowned. “This… isn’t your house.”

“Nope,” he said, cutting the engine. “It’s a place I use when I need to get away. No one’s gonna find us here.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, though you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or relief. You didn’t exactly trust him, but you were too tired to care. If this was some kind of elaborate trap, you’d deal with it later.

Rafe came around to your side of the truck and opened the door. “Come on,” he said, his tone softer than before. “Let’s get you inside.”

You didn’t argue as he helped you out of the truck, his arm steadying you as you limped toward the cabin. The interior was surprisingly cozy, with worn furniture and a stone fireplace that cast a warm glow across the room. It felt lived-in, though you doubted anyone else knew about this place.

“Sit,” Rafe ordered, guiding you to the couch. “I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

You sank into the cushions, wincing as the movement jostled your shoulder. The pain was worse now, no longer dulled by the adrenaline. When Rafe returned, he carried a small, battered kit and a bottle of water. He crouched in front of you, his expression unreadable as he set the supplies on the coffee table.

“This is gonna hurt,” he warned, pulling a pair of gloves from the kit.

“Great,” you muttered, but you didn’t stop him as he carefully peeled back your sleeve to examine your shoulder. His fingers were warm against your skin, and you cursed the way your breath hitched when he touched you.

“You dislocated it,” he said after a moment. “I’ll have to pop it back in.”

Your stomach flipped. “Can’t we just… leave it for now?”

Rafe gave you a look that said he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “If we don’t fix it, it’ll get worse. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

Trust him. The words felt foreign, almost laughable. But as he positioned himself beside you, his hand bracing your arm, you realized you didn’t have much of a choice.

“On three,” he said, his voice low and steady. “One—”

Before he even got to two, he pushed. Pain exploded in your shoulder, sharp and blinding, and you let out a strangled cry. Tears blurred your vision as you gasped for breath, the pain slowly ebbing to a dull throb.

“You okay?” Rafe asked, his tone softer now.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I hate you.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re welcome.”

The rest of the cleanup was quieter. He wrapped your ankle with surprising care, his touch almost gentle as he worked. You watched him in silence, noting the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. It was strange, seeing him like this—focused, almost… kind.

When he finished, he leaned back, wiping his hands on a towel. “There. You’ll live.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling awkward under his gaze. “For… everything.”

Rafe didn’t respond right away. He just stared at you, his blue eyes searching yours as if he was trying to figure out what to say. The air between you grew heavy, charged with an electricity that made your skin prickle.

“You’re a mess, you know that?” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual.

You bristled, narrowing your eyes. “Gee, thanks. Glad to know you’re still a jerk.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, his expression softening. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground, getting into all this trouble, and for what? You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.”

You looked away, the weight of his words settling over you. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and for once, there was no edge to his voice. “But I do.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and unexpected. You turned back to him, your heart racing as you searched his face for any hint of a joke. But there was none. Just the truth, laid bare between you.

“Rafe—”

“I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, running a hand through his hair. “But I can’t stand seeing you like this. You drive me insane, and half the time I don’t even know why I bother, but… I care about you. More than I should.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to a confession you’d never expected. But as you looked at him, his usual mask of arrogance stripped away, you realized something else.

You cared about him too.

The tension between you crackled like a live wire, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left. His eyes flickered to your lips, and for a moment, you thought he might close the gap.

But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned back, running a hand over his face as if to steady himself.

“You should get some rest,” he said, his voice rough. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The cabin felt different in the light of day. The warmth from the fire was gone, replaced by a cold chill that seeped into your bones. You hadn’t slept at all the night before—your mind too restless, too tangled with the memory of Rafe’s confession. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it didn’t mean anything. But the truth was, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Rafe’s voice echoed in your mind, his words hanging in the air like an unfinished sentence. “I care about you. More than I should.”

The way he’d said it—quiet, raw, and unguarded—had unsettled you. You weren’t used to that kind of honesty, especially not from him. Rafe Cameron wasn’t supposed to care. Not about you. He was supposed to be the reckless, untouchable bad boy that everyone warned you to stay away from.

So why couldn’t you shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as untouchable as you thought?

You stretched out on the couch, the pain from your injuries still a dull throb in the background, but nothing compared to the weight of your thoughts. The first light of dawn had barely crept through the curtains when Rafe appeared in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the soft glow.

“Morning,” he said gruffly, his voice rough with sleep.

You barely acknowledged him, your gaze fixed on the floor. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Do what?” he asked, stepping into the room. He’d changed into a worn flannel shirt and jeans, looking as effortlessly put together as always, despite the tension between you.

“Act like nothing happened,” you muttered. You pushed yourself upright on the couch, wincing as you adjusted your shoulder. “We both know that you didn’t mean what you said last night.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes studying you with an intensity that made your stomach flip. “You think I lied?”

“No,” you said quickly, though it didn’t feel entirely true. “I think you said it in the heat of the moment. Maybe you were trying to fix things or—”

“Or what?” Rafe cut you off, his voice sharper than usual. “You think I can’t feel things just because I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve?” His jaw tightened as he took a step closer, eyes never leaving yours. “I didn’t lie. I said it because I meant it.”

The air between you thickened, the words hanging heavily in the space between you. You could feel the pull, the electric tension that seemed to coil tighter with every breath you took. But you were too stubborn to admit it—too scared to believe it was real.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear it. But I can’t pretend like I don’t care. Not anymore.”

You stood up, a rush of emotions flooding through you. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Rafe. People like us don’t get to have happy endings.”

His eyes softened for a moment, the hardness in his expression giving way to something more vulnerable. “Maybe we don’t need a happy ending. Maybe we just need to get through the mess we’ve made together.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. His words hung in the air, leaving you caught between something you couldn’t quite define and something you were terrified to face.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed.

He stepped closer, his presence almost overwhelming now. “I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m asking you to trust yourself. You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

His words struck a chord deep within you. You’d always prided yourself on being independent, on handling everything on your own. But the truth was, you were tired—tired of running, tired of pretending you didn’t need someone. And maybe, just maybe, Rafe was the person who could help you put the pieces back together.

But you weren’t ready for that. Not yet.

You stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest in a protective gesture. “I need space, Rafe. I’m not ready for this.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he simply nodded, a hint of understanding flickering in his eyes. “I’ll give you space. But don’t think for a second that I’m going anywhere.”

The words were both comforting and suffocating all at once. You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but you knew you couldn’t keep pretending like this—like nothing had changed between you.

“I don’t need saving,” you said quietly, the words coming out sharper than you intended. “I’m not some damsel in distress.”

Rafe didn’t flinch. His eyes softened as he took a step back. “I know. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve help.”

There was a long, heavy silence between you, the weight of his words pressing down on you. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe he was right. Maybe you didn’t have to do everything on your own.

“I’ll be outside,” Rafe said after a moment, his voice low but steady. “If you need anything.”

You didn’t respond, your gaze already drifting to the window. As he walked out of the cabin, you sank back down onto the couch, your mind swirling with a thousand thoughts, none of which made sense.

But one thing was clear—no matter how hard you tried to push him away, Rafe wasn’t going anywhere.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A few hours later, you were sitting at the kitchen table, absently staring out at the woods surrounding the cabin. You hadn’t heard Rafe move around, but when you looked up, he was standing in the doorway again, his gaze gentle.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice tentative. “You’re in a lot of trouble right now, and I can help. My family... well, they know people. Good people. I can have my lawyers handle everything, get you out of this mess. You won’t have to run anymore.”

The offer hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his sincerity. You hadn’t expected him to offer something so personal—so vulnerable.

You blinked, still processing the offer. “You’d really do that? For me?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer, his gaze softening. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”

You hesitated. The idea of being free from the constant fear of being caught was tempting, but something inside you still resisted. “But... why? Why help me, after everything?”

Rafe’s expression shifted, vulnerability flashing through his eyes. “Because I don’t want to see you suffer. I don’t want you to keep running, thinking you’re alone in all of this.” He hesitated, his voice lowering. “And because, despite all the chaos, I care about you. More than I ever thought I would.”

The silence between you was thick, but this time, it didn’t feel suffocating. It felt like something fragile and real, the kind of thing that could grow if you let it.

You met his eyes, the weight of his words settling over you, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, things didn’t have to be as messed up as you’d convinced yourself they were.

“I don’t want to keep running either,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe gave you a soft smile, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. “Then let me help you. Let me fix this. You don’t have to do it alone.”

For a moment, you just stood there, looking at him, the air between you warmer than it had been in a long time. You didn’t have all the answers, and maybe things weren’t perfect, but for once, it felt like you were on the edge of something real.

“I’ll take your help,” you said, your voice steady but filled with a hesitant warmth. “But only if you promise not to bail when things get messy.”

Rafe chuckled, that familiar spark in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

And just like that, the walls between you crumbled, replaced with something new—something uncertain, but full of promise. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe in a future where you weren’t alone. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

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gothic-thoughts · 3 months ago

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His Favorite Nurse

Michael Myers x Black Fem Reader Angst

AslumPatient!Michael, Nurse!Reader, Kinda Dark, Feat. Dr. Loomis

Part 2: Right Here

Part 4 (Last): Right Here

CW: reassuring Michael after a rampage, he just missed u fr,

TW: gore/blood mention

Word Count: 1973 (give or take)

On my day back, I walked into the asylum to hear alarms blaring loudly, but I was in the lobby so everything seemed fine. It was only after hearing the faint sounds of police sirens that I ran into the elevator, tapping my foot impatiently as it took me to the 3rd floor. When it dings open, I run into the hallway Michael’s room was in, heels clicking quickly until I reach the start of the corridor but I freeze in place.

My jaw drops and my breath halts.

Bodies of guards and nurses were scattered all over the hall accompanied by their own puddles of blood, some had their heads crushed into a chunky mess while others had their throats ripped out. None of these puddles are dry, did he just do this? Why? And where is he? Despite my stomach being sick I push through, stepping past and over the multiple corpses.

“S-She’s coming back, I swear!” He whimpered, “Please, I didn’t mean it, just please...!”

Shit, that’s the next hall. I turn the corner to see The Shape further down the hall stalking towards an unarmed guard who crawled back from him with a brutally broken arm, begging for his life. The killer’s hands, arms, and feet were soaked in blood, I could hear his heavy breathing from all the way down here.

Without thinking, I ran a little closer in hopes of distracting him from earning another kill as loud police sirens closed in from afar. I stopped a good 20 feet from my big, murderous patient and did the only thing I could think of to potentially distract him enough:

“Michael!!”

The Shape freezes in place, his long, shaggy hair shifting as he slowly lifts his head from the guard. He looks back over his shoulder almost as if to confirm it was me before turning his entire body to face me, leaving the guard completely forgotten behind him. My heart pounded with fear and disbelief that I actually stopped him, even if for only a second. I remain still, watching him from afar and he doesn't move either, most likely analyzing me from behind that orange mask of his.

“I... I'm back...?”

After another long 10 seconds of silence, he tilts his head to the right. Then takes a step forward, foot thudding from his weight.

I stumble back a little but he continues to approach wordlessly, with slow, deliberate steps.

“Uh, hey big guy...”

His breaths are instantly back to being undetectable, even more so as more police sirens join the others. At first, I wanted to let him close the gap between us but the scent of blood— the sight of it practically dripping from his body combined with the intensity of the moment made my courage crumble and I ran in the other direction. I hear Michael huff angrily as his heavy footsteps stomp quickly behind me, closing the distance as if my running didn’t matter, his longer legs helping him gain on me in seconds— in my defense, I was wearing heels.

Knowing that I wasn’t gonna be able to outrun him, I started banging on all the patients' doors in the hall, hoping to find an unlocked one as my heart raced. Little did I know, this whole floor had been evacuated right after Michael broke out and before my shift started.

“Hello!? Let me in!” I begged, “C’mon, please! Somebody help me!”

Nobody responds, the only sound being the loud footsteps of the nearly 7-foot killer getting closer. As I reach the next handle, Michael suddenly grabs my arm, causing me to scream as he forcefully spins me to face him. He calmly and slowly leans down to look at me while I panic but as soon as I try to pull away, he roughly pulls me flush against his blood-soaked clothes with a single grunt.

“Michael, no!” A familiar voice called, “Stop!”

I look back over my shoulder to see a group of police officers running behind Dr. Loomis with their guns drawn as they make their way down the blood-soaked hallway. They all stop and stand at the end of the corridor, smartly staying a safe distance from Michael. Tears sting the corner of my eyes as I wait for him to hurt me.

But he doesn't.

In fact, upon seeing Loomis he pulled me impossibly closer to his bloody shirt, holding me so tight against him that a small amount seeped from the fabric and smeared my right cheek.

“What is he doing...?” Loomis asks aloud, “He's never done anything like this before; he doesn’t take hostages. Michael... Let the girl go... please.”

Michael doesn't say a word, his head never lifting to even consider looking at Loomis.

“Please...” I whimper, choking up, “P-Please don’t hurt me...”

“Michael...” Loomis says, taking a step forward, “She's begging you. Don’t hurt her, let her go.”

The doctor’s step made the masked killer immediately take another step back.

“No.” I sniffle, looking up at him, “Please don’t hurt me, just... please.”

He tilted his head to the side, at least giving me some confirmation that he was listening to me, but his arm didn’t even attempt to loosen from around my back. That’s when Loomis picked up on something:

“Do... you like her?” He asks gently, “That’s it, isn’t it... you like her...?”

I tense at his words, eyes widening at the revelation. After all this time, Michael hadn’t made a single move to hurt me. He hadn’t crushed me, broke my neck, hit me, nothing. I had been in his grasp for over a minute and the only thing wrong is how fucking terrifying he is. I look up at the killer's mask and take it upon myself to try something— since we already bonded a little, it didn’t seem like that big of a risk. I slowly wrap my arms around Michael’s waist, staining my arms in blood.

“Michael...?” I say, taking a deep breath, “C-Can you can wrap your arms around me... like this?”

The killer stays silent for a moment, head tilting to the right.

“Please...? You’re... You're scaring me...”

He readjusts his head, never taking his cold eyes off me. A couple seconds of silence passed before he readjusted the arm across my back and added his other to mimic me, completely enveloping me in his tight embrace. I gasp softly in disbelief.

“Yeah, like that, good.” I choke up despite being a little calmer, “That’s better...”

His huge arms instantly relaxed at my words, I even managed to catch a soft breath from behind that orange mask.

“You just killed so many people, and... do you know why...?”

He huffs behind the mask, seemingly agitated again as he starts tensing against me so I instantly shush him and rub his lower back, bringing his large frame to a frighteningly immediate halt.

“Easy, you know I’m just asking. Like the questions last week, remember?”

Another softened huff as he retightened his embrace. Then a subtle nod. He’s really trying his best to be gentle; it’s kinda cute. It’s just too bad my heart was already going a mile a minute. Everyone must think I’m crazy, but I just need to keep him calm... or whatever his version of calm is.

I can feel Loomis’ and the police’s confused looks on us, completely at a loss of what to do now but I ignore their stares, doing everyone a favor by keeping the murderous giant calm and collected by softly petting his chest and a few gentle words. Somehow.

“That's it, you don’t have to hold me so tight. I won’t go anywhere.”

My eyes stayed locked on the cold, dead blue ones behind the mask, making sure he was watching as I slowly pulled my arms from around him. I rest my hands on his broad, blood-stained chest while I gently coax him to loosen his grip, trying to convince him I wasn’t gonna try to run away, and after a full minute, he finally listens, arms slowly becoming less tense. I smile.

“There you go, see? I'm right here...” I whisper, “Did you hurt all this staff just because I left for the week?”

Michael suddenly drops his arms from my body. He hangs his head, his long, brown hair obscuring his mask as his bloody hands gently grab the chin of his mask and the string on the back of his head, slowly pulling off his mask before promptly dropping it to the floor next to him. I hear the cops murmur, their grips on their weapons tightening as Michael reaches into his pocket, but I hear Loomis shush them.

“What are you doing?”

He pulls out a bloody ID card, the movement making 3 more fall out and clatter to the floor. He didn’t react to them, opting to hold up the first one to my face with his fingers. A...nurse? He killed her and took her ID? Wait... I take the card and pick up the ones that fell, reading all of them to see that they were all nurses.

Between this and what the guard said when he was crawling away, it all clicked: “S-She’s coming back, I swear! Please, I didn’t mean it, just please...”. I look up at his obstructed face and I couldn’t help but pout sympathetically as if he didn’t just murder 4 nurses and then some.

“I didn’t leave you, and I’m not going to. I just took a break.”

Michael's head lifts slightly, giving me a glimpse of those dead, blue eyes narrowing through his hair. Oh right, I leave when my shift ends. Shit.

“And if I do, I'll be right back; nobody’s replacing me— especially not if this is what you do when you miss me. Next time, I’ll tell you when I’m taking a long break okay?”

He nods subtly.

“Why’d you take off your mask? You didn’t need to.”

He firmly grabs my wrist and to my surprise, he guides it past his dark strands until my palm rests on his cold cheek. I smile at him.

“Aw, you’re kinda cute when you’re not all, uh...” I quickly glance at the carnage around us again, “Angry...?”

A small huff and I could see his eyes close.

“We gotta get you cleaned up, big guy. Can I take you to the showers? I won’t let the police hurt you, but—”

The blue eyes snap open. The killer's body straightens up, lifting his free hand and poking my chest.

“Me...?”

A nod.

“Fair, I guess them hurting you isn’t really the issue but they won’t hurt me either.”

His lack of movement makes me sigh. Without letting go of his face, I look over my shoulder at Loomis wondering how to even ask this.

“Loomis, can you get the police to clean up everything else while I... fix him up?”

“Is he...” Loomis steps back, “Are you sure? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just need you to get the police away cuz he thinks they’ll hurt me.”

“They’ll hurt you?!”

“Just... humor me, alright? Unless you wanna deal with him?”

Loomis rightfully hesitates but knowing the carnage in the next hall, he complies and turns back to face the police, telling them to, at the very least, put their guns away— to leave him alone and carry on with the crime scene clean up as normal— as normal as they can anyway. I look back at Michael, watching his shoulders lower as the cops holster their guns. Once a few start to leave to go get the cleanup team, he finally releases my wrist and steps back, waiting for me to lead him to the shower room.

#black reader #black writers #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #rz michael myers #rz michael myers x reader #rz myers x reader #rz halloween #michael myers x y/n #michael myers #michael myers x reader #slashers #the shape #michael myers x you #halloween is coming #halloween #october

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charliemwrites · 1 year ago

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Fields of Elation

Part 1

Rating: E Warnings: Dubcon if you squint

The garden has become a riot of color in the last week.

Native blooms in every vibrant color you could find, praying for pollinators to watch from the reading nook. The first butterfly fluttered in yesterday morning while you sipped tea. You could have squealed with excitement, aching to tell someone and denying the twinge in your chest when you realized who “someone” was.

You’re not thinking of him now. No. Absolutely not. Gardens are not for blood-soaked, violent men that smell like gunpowder and smoke – and neither are your thoughts. Your thoughts are to be as sun-soaked as the flowers, bleached out by warmth and light. Depthless, shadowless.

There’s soil dusting your fingers. You kneel in the flossy grass to plant wooden dowels, support for drooping stems growing too tall, too fast. You’re endeared by them, that they’re exploding with so much life that they need a helping hand. Perhaps you’re anthropomorphizing them a bit too much. This little recess you’ve carved out of the world is beautiful but lonely.

You hum a soft tune as you bow twine, some happy new pop song about summer. Heard it on the radio in the grocery store and haven’t gotten it out of your head since. The back of your neck prickles.

“Missed your voice, bonnie.”

You yelp as big, rough hands scoop you from the ground. Strong fingers grip your thigh, a wide palm supports your ribs, tugging you close to a thick, muscular body. The rough fabric of tac gear sands against the exposed skin of your stomach. You flail until your arms loop around broad shoulders, a chuckle rumbling into the hollow of your throat.

“Missed that noise specifically.”

You gasp air for another shout, but get jostled up into a fireman’s carry, wind knocked out of you. There will be no screaming for your distant neighbors this time.

“Put me down,” you wheeze instead.

“In a mo’, love.”

You grunt indignantly as the ground blurs beneath you, tools left behind as powerful legs tread the path back to your little house. Spend the disconcertingly short journey thinking of new things to call him, since you’ve been running out.

There’s a heavy wooden thump.

“Don’t kick my door!” you screech.

“I’ll fix the damn door,” he growls back.

Your head spins as you’re dropped to your bare feet on the wood floors, just inside the back door. Steady yourself on corded forearms to catch your bearings, then open your mouth to give him a dressing down he hasn’t had since recruit days.

But a hot, wet tongue slides against yours, curling expertly into your mouth. Dry, warm lips pressing hard. That same arm curls around your chest to gather you close; the breadth of him steals your coherence as much his kiss. Your venomous words are superseded by a soft noise, one that you’ll deny is the admission of pleasure he takes it as.

When he pulls away, you find your fingers curled in the muted green of his shirt, knuckles pressed against his beating heart. Its pace matches yours.

You flutter your eyes open, find summer blue gazing back. Softer than the grass you just knelt in, warmer than the sun in your hair. You swallow back surrender, blink away admissions.

“I was in the middle of something, you bastard,” you snap.

John MacTavish grins back, crooked and arrogant, the scar beneath his eye pulling. “It’ll keep.”

“Then so will dinner.”

His eyes light up. You curse as you realize your mistake.

“You gonnae cook f’me, love?”

“No.” You back away, but it’s like trying to outrun the wind. He manages to make your deliberate retreat feel like a choice he’s making, hedging you deeper into the house. Back, back, unerringly corralling you towards the bedroom. You know it, but you’re helpless to stop it.

“S’alright, you’ve been cookin’ enough, I reckon,” he drawls. “Don’t mind makin’ somethin’ fer you.”

If by “cooking” he means cobbled together snacks that level out to something like nutritional balance, then yeah. You’ve been cooking for yourself.

“Not enough ingredients for two,” you snark, eyes sliding away in a show of dismissal. “You’ll have to starve.”

He smirks, balancing you with hands on your waist when you bump the bedroom door ajar. Your stomach clenches up like you’re on a rollercoaster. Know what’s coming next but dig your heels in anyway.

“Nah, just gonnae eat now.”

Your mouth drops open just as he pounces, squealing as your back hits the mattress. The ceiling is decorated in fairy lights you forgot to turn off this morning. They twinkle brightly as John wrestles your dirty cotton “work” shorts off your thighs, leaves them hanging off one calf.

“Goddamit!” you shout as he tears through yet another pair of underwear. Nothing special, mind, but it’s the principle of the thing. They’re not his to rip.

“Gotcha more ‘fore I came home.”

That doesn’t make it better, you try to tell him. What comes out is a warbling moan as he buries his tongue in your pussy. Licks from your shamefully leaking hole to your already-throbbing clit. He grunts in reply, deep and rough in his wide chest. Drops himself onto the floor for better access, pulling your thighs over his shoulders.

Eats you out like this really is his first and last meal. Sloppy and wet and loud, audible over the sounds you try to stifle behind your forearm because your hands are still dirty. Get away with it for all of a minute (being generous) before he’s pulling back just enough to speak – even if it’s right into your cunt.

“No, no, no, we have a deal,” he growls. You whimper as his hands clamp down on your squirming hips. “I’m home now, you’re mine. This pussy, those noises, they’re all mine again.”

Your hands fly to his hair as he dives in again, tangling in dark, course strands as he laps at you like a dog. If you could rally the brain power to speak more than unintelligible sounds, you’d mock him with that imagery. But knowing him, he’d revel in the comparison. Would bark just to prove a point.

You can’t stand that you know him.

“That’s it,” he rasps. “My goddess.”

You arch as he sucks your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over the bundle of the nerves. Thumbs massaging into the plush of you. Stubble prickling a bit; you’ll have to remember to tell him off for that later.

“Missed me too,” he continues, flat of his tongue licking a long stripe up your slit. Strings of your slick web between his mouth and your pussy. “Dripping like you missed me, anyway.”

“D-didn’t,” you whine.

He chuckles, the absolute devil, humming as he curls his tongue inside you. Doesn’t believe you, doesn’t even deign to challenge it. Just keeps fucking you on his mouth, groaning when your twitchy fingers tug at his hair. Doubles his efforts, any semblance of restraint crumbling as the time and distance overwhelm his usually infallible patience. Overwhelm you too.

It’s been so long – since the night before he last left. You’re oversensitive and touch-starved and John is a feast for your body and soul. Lose everything to the tides of lust, the current of ecstasy. Washed out to a sea of bliss, floating on awful need. Tilt your hips into the next swipe of his tongue, back arching, thighs tightening as you shudder.

“John,” you keen, “John, Johnny.”

He makes a gutted noise. One hand jerking from your hip to slide two thick fingers into you. Tears gather and rebel down your cheeks as he zeroes in on that sweet, achy spot inside of you. He is a man for whom mercy is scarce and he has none to spare for you, stroking and tapping relentlessly. Your peak rushes up frighteningly fast, voice lost in the shock of it as you clamp down.

He works you through it, savoring your orgasm like the first inhale of smoke in his lungs. Keeps licking and rubbing until your sobbing with overstimulation, trying to scramble away.

“No, John,” you warble, “t-too much, please!”

The sound when he pulls away is utterly obscene. If you had any room in your empty brain for embarrassment, you’d wish for the mattress to swallow you whole. You flutter your eyes open and stare blankly at the fairy lights as you struggle to breathe.

John’s kissing your trembling thighs like he didn’t just ruin everything all over again, whispering devotion into your beard burn.

When you manage to sit up a bit on shaking arms, you find him kneeling there. A supplicant to the alter of your pleasure. Ruthlessly handsome, war-torn. His chin glistens with your slick. You reach to wipe it away, but he catches your wrist in a deceptively gentle hand. Keeps his blown-out eyes on yours as he presses a slow kiss into the center of your palm.

Words bubble in your chest, too honest, even for you.

“My hands are dirty,” you whisper.

“Never.”

You curl your fingers around his jaw. Tell yourself it’s not a caress, no matter how he leans into it. “When did you get back?”

“Eighteen hours.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Gather your scattered wits. “You wore your damn boots in the house.”

He huffs with amusement, leans his forehead into your stomach. “I’ll mop.”

“You’ll shower first. You smell like travel.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“I have to finish in the garden.”

He scowls even with his eyes closed. You tap-tap-tap absently at his shoulder, where your hand has naturally come to rest.

“I’ll come out with you,” he grumbles.

“You’ll scare the birds.”

“Fuck the birds.”

You tsk, but there’s no force on earth that will keep him inside. “Mean bastard.”

He grins against your stomach. “Darling wife.”

Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #hades john mactavish #captain john mactavish #persephone reader #hades and persephone #hades/persephone au #sort of #fields of elation fic

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hoseoksluna · 8 months ago

Text

VAPOR, pt II. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc

genre: smut, a great dose of angst

word count: 11.9k

summary: hard times ask for extra care and like the healer he is, jungkook doesn't fail to give you his absolute best.

pinterest board: vapor | playlist: vapor

warnings: heartbreak, lots of tears, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), praise kink, sucking fingers, female masturbation, fingering, oc is extremely wet and jk is rly rly hard for her <3, squirting, multiple orgasms, jk tells her off kinda and it's hot, pet names, raw and rough sex, the abandonment issues are heavy in one part, mention of a sex toy

note: hi, my loves. this was absolutely painful to write, but i know i made a good decision. unfortunately for those who are waiting for the next series—i'm sorry, but this will have another part. it's already so long and if i kept going, it'd have probably like 20k plus words and i don't want to take up your time. i think i can manage to post the last part THIS week, so look forward to this. one part of the happy ending done. <3 i love you, guys, i hope you like this. don't hesitate to let me know; i worked hard and i want validation skfjslkfjsklfs. enjoy, my loves. <3

A dead man for the fifth time, Jungkook finds the unfolding of the events quite ridiculous now. And he’s not surprised, how could he really be at this point, that there’s radio silence within the chambers of his heart.

The food court is muted, the lights are ever still bright, but the corners of his eyes gain peculiar shadows that cling to the side of your face as you swirl your spoon in your hot soup. His phone is ringing and its obnoxious sound is but a vibration in his hand and the only thing that’s delaying him from sliding his thumb across his device is some sort of consent in your solemn, yet saddened features. He can see translucent threads lining your rounded lips that have sown your mouth shut, preventing you from speaking out your tender heart and it’s predominantly this thing, among the obvious other ones, that drives him to make a scene in front of all of these people crowded around him.

If he has to, he will rip those wisps. Make it as painless as possible because whether he likes it or not, he needs you right now. Needs your word of advice, needs your consent in order to do what the entirety of his organs yearns to do. And if you say no, he’ll willingly turn his phone off and refuse to speak to his once-closest friend.

Just for the sake of your mental health. Just to outrun fate and grasp her wrist to stop her from furthermore scarring your heart.

You have enough of them and he has only one pair of lips to heal them.

Lifting the spoon to your mouth, you keep your gaze on its silver coat and it unnerves him—the fact you won’t look at him, the fact that you so evidently don’t want to be in this situation. Your own boyfriend is chasing you around town, even though he transmitted waves of nothingness your way when he had you under his roof. He doesn’t fucking understand it. Doesn’t understand how he’s capable of doing such a thing and fury rises in his gut, soars high to his throat, which constricts around it so tightly that it forbids him from inhaling any oxygen into his lungs. And he fears that if he speaks, it’ll soak you. Make you even smaller than you are and he’ll hate himself for the rest of his life for it.

However…

He needs to talk to you. Time is pressing down on his shoulders once again and here and now, he’s too burdened, too fragile to bear it. His stoicism has long been fractured, its shards cracking cacophonously under the soles of his sneakers and… the singular tear rooting on his pale cheek hasn’t even dried up.

“Tell me what to do, sweetheart,” Jungkook says, his voice a soft, deep murmur; a plea. His surroundings gain volume, little by little, the lack of air in his lungs causing his mind to spin. His body grows cold and, unwittingly, he bounces his leg underneath the table. “If you don’t want me to pick up this call, I won’t. It’s your decision.”

He knows that whatever it is that will come out of your mouth and change the trajectory of his fury, he’ll protect you nonetheless. No matter what, no matter what it takes. He’ll unleash what’s been swarming in him for a long time in private sometime later if you ask for it—he’ll gladly tell his organs no and they’ll have to listen. That’s certainly not an issue.

What will be an issue is if you remain quiet. He doesn’t know what will happen to him under that circumstance. He has very little trust in something that’s out of his grasp and he has strong disliking for the looseness of it all. Doesn’t feel right.

A quick, soft slurp of your soup. A lift of your weary eyes. A kick in his heart. “I don’t want to make any decision. If you want to pick up the call, you should. I don’t mind. If you don’t, that’s fine, too.”

He must be dead because he’s staring at his own reincarnation.

You’ve walked so far on your pathway of suffering that you reached the point that you don’t care anymore. Don’t care that there’s a risk Yoongi will see you or hear you. Don’t care about what’s going to happen when he does and about the events after. It’s as admirable as it is disturbing and a faint pulse begins to sound in his chest. Thrill nips at his skin; a sense of responsibility uncoiling within, linking to the surety of his instinct to protect you. To stand up for you. To make things right in a way, way different manner than he’s ever tried before and it’s those inclinations that drive his thumb to swipe across the screen.

Though he doesn’t look at Yoongi. No, he looks at you, studying your features. It’s not that he doesn’t trust your words, he does and vehemently so, but this is a difficult situation that you’re both in and it would be only understandable if the gravity of it washed over you all of a sudden and you weren’t comfortable with this anymore. He wouldn’t hesitate to end the call right away. Fuck what Yoongi thinks.

But nothing changes about your weariness. It’s a still pool of water, unmoving and utterly impenetrable, like the pond behind his cabin during cold, winter times. When this is over, he promises to get warm and dip his fingers in, permeate your skin with rosiness and coziness. Stall the change of seasons unfurling in you.

And Jungkook pleats that promise into the palm of your hand as he takes it, his thumb against your head line. Watches you stuff your mouth full with noodles. His own stomach churns, the fury half parting, making a way for his hunger to suffuse his senses. He’s so happy you’re eating that all he can think about is how he’s going to make your life better with this one singular video call.

He leaves you to it and focuses his gaze down on Yoongi. His once-close friend is driving in his car and despite the shit view he has of him, due to his service and the way Yoongi’s phone is angled, he can still see the way he’s swathed by murkiness. The purple marks under his eyes are a stark contrast to the pallidness of his skin and his hair is a mess, tufts of black strands sticking in different directions as if he had been on the verge of ripping his hair out. He has one hand on the steering wheel, while the other runs over his upper lip. Over and over, back and forth, waiting, patiently, for Jungkook’s attention.

He starts speaking once he knows he has it.

“Sorry to bother you, I didn’t know who else to call.” He sighs and explains that he’s calling because of you, the mention of your name causing his voice to crack. “I drove up to her apartment, but she’s not there. She told me she was going to her place when she… when she… left.”

So he heard you loud and clear, and yet he didn’t have the decency to respond to you, make you know that you were heard. Jungkook looks at you and this time you look back at him, too. A tight, painful exchange of glances. He squeezes your hand, even as Yoongi continues.

“She’s not picking up the phone. I’m worried about her—”

Jungkook is swift with his words. “You should’ve thought of that before you let her leave,” he snaps, his whole body tense, hanging yet again by the thread. He keeps his hold over your hand gentle, despite it all—despite the fact that his form yearns to explode. “You’re too reckless. Leave her alone.”

Your eyes widen while Yoongi’s narrow, but he doesn’t regret what he said. He knows there’s utmost truth in them, something that should scramble his brain until he comprehends it. Yoongi’s mouth purses in a tight line and his fist clenches before he places it on the steering wheel with a thud.

“Don’t talk to me like this. I don’t need this,” Yoongi mutters, pulling out his hyung card and while it angers Jungkook even more, he also thinks that’s the biggest load of bullshit that has ever come out of his mouth. “I need to know where she is.”

He gazes intently at you as he says, “It’s none of your business.”

And those big eyes of yours round in a good emotion that he can’t really recognize and slowly, you swallow down your noodles. Speechless, he deduces. A tendril of adrenaline courses in him, strengthening his responsibility and protectiveness over you, kissing it ever so sweetly when you squeeze his hand.

A validation.

Jungkook could stay like this. He wouldn’t mind at all—it feels too nice. Feels like you’re his. And perhaps at this very moment you are.

The feeling is so overwhelming that he doesn’t give two shits about the fact Yoongi is detonating on the other side of the screen. He keeps his eyes on you.

“What the fuck do you mean it’s none of my business? Is she with you?”

It’s at this moment that a proud smile curls Jungkook’s lips. And it’s joy that absorbs his organs, his heart beating loudly and clearly. Even the people around him seem happier in his peripheral vision. He thinks this night tops in the best days he’s ever had.

Tension has grabbed a hold of you, too. But he will make it better. He’s got you.

He continues with the truth and he’s not afraid of it. Not at all.

“Yes, she’s safe with me.”

Those words, most peculiarly, soothe Yoongi’s rage. Silence fills his car, one that forces Jungkook to flick his eyes to his phone because he truly can’t believe what’s happening. Yoongi runs his hand down his face and nods once, the murkiness loosening a fair bit before it pulps him. It’s now that he becomes small. A tiny boy, at the hands of his own repercussions. Displeased, but relieved. A strange, strange sight.

“Good,” Yoongi says and Jungkook’s stomach drops. “She should be with you. You’re better than me in ways I could never be. She doesn’t need me anymore.”

Your mouth parts and a vexation of your own clutches you. Enough for you to drop your spoon and lift your hand, palm up. The adrenaline in Jungkook’s system thickens. “Give me the phone.”

Yoongi's head turns to the screen at the sound of your irritated voice and Jungkook’s smile widens, handing you the device. He knows what you’re about to say will put an end to this difficult situation and he’s eager to hear it, eager for it to happen.

“Careful, don’t make him crash his car,” Jungkook whispers, ever so smug, just for your ears, but on the other hand, he doesn’t care if it finds a way to your boyfriend’s as well. You gaze at him most solemnly, fleetingly, and he can’t read shit in your expression. He’s not troubled by it, however; he wants you to let loose in whatever form of your choosing, of your liking. You deserve it, to be boundless like that. It’s been a long time coming.

His phone in your hand is too large and he finds it so cute that it helps him relax. Without withdrawing his hand, he hunches over his soup, getting his utensils ready.

And his first taste of his meal is as good as the first words you hurl at Yoongi.

“Are you joking right now? Is that all you have to say after everything? You’re actually unbelievable,” you spit, shooting daggers at the screen, your brows furrowed, a lethal glare directed at him. Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but he hears him sigh. “I’d like you to know that it’s my decision that I’m with him. Not yours. You’re not in control of it and you never will be again. I’m with him because I want to be with him, not because you let me be with him or because you think it’s good.”

Your voice rises in volume ever so slightly, respectful of your surroundings, but untethering your heart free nonetheless. A tortured pain coats it, despite the fact you’re holding yourself strong and it drives Jungkook to let go of his spoon, unable to eat when he feels your agony in all its raw immensity. You struck his awe and all he can do is watch you make order of your life. For your sake and also, most remarkably, for his. A beautiful, beautiful sight.

Love unable to be real turning away, slowly, from the dead end.

“So, we’re over?” Yoongi asks, small—small voice. Jungkook has never heard it before and butterflies zap his stomach with the strongest electricity they could come across.

Your face doesn’t change and you don’t hesitate to unleash your next words. “I think you should go see other people and heal from this mess. You’ve grown too attached to your own fucked up impressions and you need a reality check.”

Such coldness, such brutality. Jungkook can’t breathe—finds it hard to believe this is happening right now, that angels are by his side, keeping his bloodstream flowing. He feels as though he’s dreaming again due to the speck of vagueness in your answer. Yes, you’ve told him to go see other people, but he’s also aware that Yoongi needs the raw truth on a silver platter. If there’s anything he hates with all his being, it’s the abyss of obscurities. It’s the space in his brain for him to make up for the emptiness of your words.

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb fondling the crook between your thumb and your forefinger, giving you the little strength he possesses in him—the last of it, all he has.

Are you breaking up with him or are you taking a break?

Jungkook longs to know, perhaps he needs it, too, even though both options are more than merciful for such a wretched dreamer like him. A dreamer that has stumbled upon gold in a poor, poor world.

“Honey, please.” Yoongi breaks into sobs and it’s now, now as Jungkook hears the sound of a raw emotion from such a detached person that he softens, his fury snuffed out in a blink of an eye, and he can’t feel his arms, nor his legs. He realizes, most strangely, that it’s his friend, one he spent the last ten years of his life with. The aftertaste of copper pools in his mouth again and his own eyes wet. Yours, too, your chin quivering the more you take in his devastated state. “I can’t do this without you. I–I don’t know how to.”

Despite your tenderness, your words remain firm. “I think you’ve managed quite well these past few days. You’ve pushed me away, needed space. So go have it. I won’t suffer through it, though. I’ll do what I want, you should, too. You need to heal in the only way you know how. Alone.”

Yoongi sniffles, taking long breaths to seemingly calm his shuddering lungs. And pity enfolds his heart, pity for his friend that he’s become such a wreck and that he’s a witness to it, more than the cause behind it. He puts the latter to the side, now is not the right time for it.

He knows what will happen to him once he breaks the dam of self-blame. It’s not what you need right now and he will make sure to keep that dam of your own safe and stable. It’s his duty.

“Will you wait for me?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook feels that question curl around his gut. With a light layer of sadness, he returns to his food, his stomach grumbling.

You sigh, swiping your fingers under the skin beneath your lower lashes, perhaps so Yoongi doesn’t see your weakness. Jungkook watches you as he slurps on his noodles, nervous—terribly, terribly nervous.

“I don’t know if I’m able to trust you like that again,” you conclude, taking a big breath and Jungkook chokes on his food, coughing so hard that you untangle your hand from his and slap his back. “Gotta go. I’ll call you later.” You end the phone call and gently lay down his phone, rubbing his back soothingly as Jungkook splutters. “Are you okay? What happened?”

What happened? You gave him life. Made a pathway for his dreams to come true. Gave him a leeway to walk upon this earth with no weight on his shoulders. Turned something inaccessible accessible.

Love unreal becomes real, running headlong in the opposite direction of the dead end.

The last of his aching coughs emit out of his throat and he swallows, lungs heaving with freedom and easy, easy breaths. The air is different, the oxygen much sweeter. You put his tall glass of water into his hand, encouraging him to drink, never letting go of him as Jungkook takes a big sip, the cold liquid washing away all of those dark ashes left from the fire of his fury. His vision blurs once he looks at you in this new, shifted reality and there’s a smile to his face, calmness surging through his body, exhilaration most needed twining around it.

“You tell me,” Jungkook says, almost out of breath—out of his mind. “What just happened?”

You go back to your soup, squeeze your fried egg open with your chopsticks. “I’m not letting him hurt me again. I don’t have to be strong and take it, do I?” With the yolk spilling in, you push the entirety of the egg white into your mouth, huffing in delight, rolling your eyes back and chewing, cheeks puffed up like a little squirrel. His own utensils go slack in his hand, watching you enjoy your food, his heart enlarging. But then you furrow your brows and stop chewing. “Fuck, it’s cold, but it’s so good.” You sigh and resume chewing, your eyes flicking across the table, your body bouncing excitedly in your seat. You act as though you didn’t just break your own boyfriend’s heart—as if you led a normal conversation with him, in which he was just checking up with you. Jungkook’s awe is so struck that he can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t do anything but watch you with all that love abounding in his being for you. And then you flick your eyes to his and the wrinkle between your brows deepens. “Why aren’t you eating? Is it too cold?”

He calls your name, firmly. Leans back in his seat with a big sigh. Rubs his eyes with his fingers. “What just happened?”

There’s simply no way this is real.

You devour your noodles, swallowing spoonfuls of soup. “I ended things with him, Jungkook, and I’m not coming back to him.”

His mouth dries, heart picks up speed. How are you saying this with such ease? Isn’t your heart split in two? Your devotion clung to his guy with every breath you took and back at his cabin, you wouldn’t let him play with you unless Yoongi was present. How come it seems like you’re anything but heartbroken right now?

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks in all honesty, confounded by your behavior.

You push away your bowl, cradling your full belly. “Yes, I’m okay.”

He doesn’t really believe you. Losing your appetite was proof enough. “Positive?”

You look over to the side and your chin begins to quiver. There it is. Your hand flies to your face and you hide the rupture of your pretense behind it. The corners of your face, the only parts he gets to see, flush in red and Jungkook grabs your things with a heavy, sinking heart. Walks over to you and gives you his hand.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

The weeping clouds have migrated not just to your eyes but to his, too. The night is deep and Jungkook feels it, ardently, coming to rest beneath his skin, floating on its back upon the stream of his tears that he’s stifling. He’s holding your hand and your purse as he’s leading you to his place. You didn’t want to see the face of your apartment. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t stand anything that reminded you of Yoongi and you begged him to take you somewhere you’ve never been before. Jungkook only nodded, brushing away the tears that managed to escape. Thought he’d bring you to any place you’d ever ask, just as long as you stuck with him.

He’s gained what he wanted for a long time, but at what cost? The two people he loves the most are broken. One, his dearest, he’s grasping tightly so she wouldn’t fly away. The other is becoming but a memory, ten years going down the drain—never to be seen again, never to be continued.

He has you, but he lost Yoongi. And the realization hangs, heftily, over his clavicles, swinging back and forth, kicking into his chest.

He can’t stand the sight of him either, however. How strange.

Once inside the warmth of his apartment, he can’t help but rid you of the hideous flannel of his that you’re wearing, bunching it up in his fists and throwing it away to the corner of his bench on the side of his wall without you knowing. With his hand on the small of your back, he guides you to his living room and he lets you skim your sight all around it, slipping his fingers under the hem of your tiny top, just touching you there. White walls, brown leather couch, a TV that takes up the most of the space alongside the kitchen with a plain dining area consisting of an old wooden, rectangular table with four chairs. A huge singular space of nothingness that has never felt home-like, not until you’ve stepped inside.

Now, all of a sudden, it has colors. Vibrant, yet soft-toned with each inhale of his breath. You bring your oxymorons everywhere you go and they stay where you reside, even if you move someplace else. The evidence of it is in his very body. While he feels at his most fragile, he also senses himself to be strong. Strong enough to take care of you right at this moment, be there for you and give you anything you’d ever want. And while his eyes are still wet, cheeks bedewed by his softness, he also wants to break this place—self-blame creeping in, threatening to emerge from the hidden spots somewhere within the battlefield of his chest.

This is his fault. Had he never said yes, you wouldn’t be in pain and neither would his friend be. But in that scenario, he wouldn’t know you existed. Wouldn’t have you. Would lead a forlorn life, with his paints and his alcohol.

You would be happy with Yoongi. Radiant, glowy. With your glitters, your little dresses. Your nighttime robes and your little lingerie.

Would you? Has he ruined your happiness? Has he ruined you?

Jungkook turns you around to him. He needs to ask you; he needs to have the certainty, otherwise he won’t sleep tonight. Won’t even close his eyes—the thoughts would eat away his drowsiness. Leave only wakefulness in their wake. Jungkook presses his lips against your forehead, lingering there, formulating his words, carefully. His hands clutch your shoulders. Your frail, slender shoulders.

Yoongi devastated your appetite enough that you lost all your soft fleshiness. He took it away and he doesn’t even perceive it. It was clear to him by the way you pushed your plate away, when your emotions rushed through; you didn’t have to say a word. And although he grieves the personal loss, still this is something he’ll never forgive him for.

“Would you have been happy if you never knew me?” he asks, subduedly, torment clawing at his vocal cords. “Would you have been happy with him?”

A teardrop spills down your cheekbone, plopping onto the material of your top, soaking it. You furrow your brows, seem angry at his choice of words and he regrets them, enough that his mouth rounds in a tender emotion that he’s too weak to stifle back. And then you bunch up his T-shirt, just like you did earlier in the dressing room, and there’s a tendril of relief that maybe he didn’t fuck up so majestically. He wants to weep; holding them back pains him too much and that ease, that repose is all he wants. It’s not that he’s shy or unwilling to let out his feelings—it’s just that he’s putting yours above his, deeming them more important. He wants to be strong for you, someone you can lean on—and how can he do that for you when he’s crumbling on the inside?

“How can you say that to me?” you ask in disbelief and Jungkook wants to rewind back the time. Wants to keep quiet and just hold you through this fateful night. He winces, looking away, his own chin quivering this time and he can’t—he can’t hold back. He possesses no strength. A tear trickles down his cheek, one full of agony, hot against his skin and he whimpers, he whimpers when you cradle his face in your hands, step on your tippy toes and press your lips against his. Your mouth is so warm and he’s shivering with cold; silky while his are ruined by the constant biting he did in the car. He is a ruination—how can you want him? He ruined your relationship. And now even his tears have stained your angelic, pure face.

“I feel like I’ve ruined everything,” he admits and his chest hurts, lungs tight, body trembling in that persisting cold. “I’ve ruined your relationship. I’ve ruined your life. Yoongi’s. Caused so much pain, so much trauma. Only because I let my friends convince me into going out when I came back from the military.”

The wrinkle between your brows smooths down and you pout, caressing his face. Jungkook can’t halt the rivulet of his liquid emotions. Not when he feels your love so awfully intensely, embracing him around and around, tightening, giving him a sense of safety.

“Can I tell you something?” You take his hand in yours and Jungkook already misses your warm touch on his face. He nods. “Where’s your room?”

He leads you there and you crawl onto his bed, patting the space beside you, curling on your side. He mirrors your position and you prop the side of your leg on his, intertwining your fingers with his on the bedding, moving his hand to your mouth.

And your words seep into his fist.

“We were together for five months and I never met his family. Never met his friends, except you. I never really thought about it in depth because he kept me busy, despite the fact all we did was fuck. It was enough for me, I guess, because I’d been alone for a long, long time before I met him. And I’m a bit of a loner myself so I didn’t mind that we spent all of our time in his apartment, fucking and watching movies. It wasn’t until I met you, Jungkook,” you pause, taking a big breath in, fondling his knuckles with your thumb, soothing him, soothing the drowsiness that is suddenly falling upon him like a blanket, waving off his tears, drying them. “That I realized it’s not really supposed to be like this in my life. I remember that night when he was out with you and I was in the bathroom. I thought about when was the last time he took me out and I shivered. I shivered, Jungkook. It was the first seed sown and I didn’t know. And when you came into my life, I spent my weekends out with you. You took me to your cabin, you took me out to dinner dates. Even today you took me to the mall. I realized it’s supposed to be like this. Yoongi never did that.”

Your words tingle across his fist and he’s quick with his own. “But were you happy?”

So are you. You don’t hesitate. “I thought I was, but the way I’m happy with you can’t compare to the way I thought I was happy with him.”

The truth wafts in the air, sweetening it and another onrush of tears come out of his tear ducts. He leans in closer to you, nose to nose, sniffling, sobbing quietly and you kiss his hand. Over and over, breathing against his skin. Light opens in him as the truth unfolds—with the little time he had with you, he managed to make you happier. Not just happy, but happier.

“I had a lot of time to think about this. It wasn’t just today that he didn’t speak to me. He barely did throughout the week, but today was the worst of it all and I couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt, it hurt so much,” you continue and Jungkook knows how much it pains you, when Yoongi abandons you over and over, clawing his fingernails in your scars. He’s glad, brims completely with that gratefulness that it also rolls down his cheeks, mingling with his tears, that you were strong enough to put a stop to it—as hard as it was. “And you know what I think? Yoongi needs someone like that. Someone who’s a much bigger loner than I am. Someone who’s okay with staying home, with keeping things casual. He needs a friend and I’ll continue being that for him, but not in the way he wants. I’ll be there for him, but not as closely as he was used to, you know? It has to be a process. I can’t just disappear out of his life. I don’t have the heart to do that.”

Extending his arm, Jungkook invites you to rest your head against his bicep—only because he yearns to touch you. Without untangling your intertwinement, you lay against him, breathing in his scent and Jungkook wraps the same arm around your shoulders, cocooning you in. Body to body, his lips against your forehead. You look up at him and he looks down at you, a profound exchange of glances. The reality shifts once more, the energy deepens, filling it with something beyond affection and love—fate thickening the air, intense, earnest and impassioned. And submitting to it, Jungkook raises your chin and kisses you, deeply, slipping his tongue inside just briefly. Kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, hides himself in that crook, breathing with you and nothing else.

A brand new reality.

He can’t help but think about how smart you are. How admirable, how good. How well you handled everything, how well you made an order out of your life and ultimately out of Yoongi’s, too. Like Jungkook will take care of you, you will take care of Yoongi—not leaving him on his own with his shattered heart and mental health. He just hopes that sometime soon, he will be able to have a part in it, too. It’s his utmost wish. No matter how upset he was with him, how strongly he disliked him in certain moments, it’s still a person he loves, a person he spent the last ten years of his life with. A family, almost.

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” Jungkook whispers, squeezing you against his body, drawing you closer until your lungs and his gain that singular synchronization. Your leg straddles his torso and he grows greedy, needing you even closer. Needing to get underneath your skin.

“I’ll try my best to make it happen,” you whisper back, running your fingers through his hair. The light that shines in your eyes faintly illuminates his shadowy room and it’s precisely the one he longed to see. Something tells him it’s here to stay and it drives his thumb to caress your wet lashes, the skin beneath your eyes, your rose-kissed cheek.

Jungkook trusts you. You’re such a badass that you will succeed in anything you set yourself out to do. And he tells you. Asks you if you want to take a bath. Thinks it will distract your heart from what it knows, from what it’s used to. Teach it something new—something you will connect only with him.

And your reaction enlarges his heart to the point that it breaks his ribcage. Your eyes widen, its light erupting, blinding him, and you gasp, lifting your whole body and grabbing his shirt in your fists. He chuckles in endearment.

“You have a bathtub?”

And your eyes almost fall out of their sockets at the sight of it once he carries you to his bathroom and sets you down. He kisses the back of your head, his hands on your hips, guiding you closer to the bathtub, reaching over to lift the tap and let hot water pour down. You both need it after such an emotionally-exhausting day and Jungkook is eager to get in with you.

“Stay here. Don’t strip. I’ll get your candle,” Jungkook says, lowly, squeezing your hips once and caressing your bum as he turns around and heads to the kitchen.

He wants to be the one who takes off your clothes. Plans to do something with you he hasn’t done in a long while, something he deems you deserve after everything you’ve been through. He grabs your mango-scented candle, your bag of cheese balls, a lighter and a chair and returns to you.

You’re crouching by the bathtub, your hand flowing in the hot water, its steam curling, tenderly, your hair cascading down your back. Jungkook pats the back of your head to announce that he’s come back and you smile up at him, your eyes big and twinkling, so magnificent that he grows weak in the knees, butterflies fluttering their wings in his stomach.

Lighting up your candle, you watch as he does it, each three knots flaring up to life and suffusing the air with a balmy, tropical scent. He sets it down on the chair and, helping you stand up to your feet, he doesn’t waste a second. His fingers hook under the hem of your top and fling it out. And because he knows you’ve never bared yourself like this before him, he hides your nakedness by pressing you against his chest, your soft breasts a pleasure, his digits sliding beneath your leggings and dragging them down your hips, looking over your shoulder. You shimmy out of them, moving your hips ever so delightfully and before he knows it, he’s on his knees—kissing the apex of your thighs as he takes your feet out of the pant legs. And he thinks he could stay here all his life.

Jungkook looks up at you as he removes your socks, kissing your knee without breaking the gaze, and he hopes that you can sense his love for you in it, the unyielding stability that he will cling to you with his body and soul—simply, with his entire being.

Rising slowly, he kisses his pathway up, leaving behind the translucent evidence of that love. Your mound, which makes you giggle, a celestial symphony to his ears, your full tummy where he hopes your invisible rose tattoos still are, both sides of your ribs, the middle of your breasts, your sternum, your collarbones, your throat, your chin—up and up until his lips find yours. And he devours them. With such vigor that you hum into his mouth, your hands reaching for his shirt again.

Oh, you want him to get in as well. Very well.

He wanted to be the witness to your relaxation, but if it’s your desire that he shares it with you—by all means. He lets you take off his shirt, lifting his arms for you, and you’re quick to allow your hands to discover the parts they don’t know. His mole beneath his left pec that he caught you staring at shortly after that turn of events at the cabin. You press your mouth against it, unravel your love for it there by grazing your teeth against it before you lick it over with your tongue, going as far as marking the spot right beside it. Jungkook sinks his fingers in your hair, reveling in it, tummy tingling, holding you like that as you do what you please. Your own digits descend to his pants, setting him free from them and when you get on your knees just like him, his cock tightens in your face.

And he dies, angels know for how many times today, when you rub your face in this intimate part of him, his heart bursting.

Not now—he can’t let you do that now. He wants your muscles to relax first before he can strain them all over again, in a much different way.

“My sweetie,” he starts, sighing, rubbing your scalp. He takes you by the back of your neck, sliding his hand underneath your armpit, and drags you up. A healthy, radiant flush adorns you and he’s glad for the paleness to be gone. Glad his body is the cause of it. It makes his heart happy. “Not now. Let’s get in the tub.”

Your stiffened nipples brush against his bare chest and he almost doubles over, loving the feeling of it. The sigh that leaves your mouth, so akin to his, too.

“But you’re hard,” you whisper, tugging down his boxers until his cock springs free and you immediately wrap your small hand around it, squeezing him lightly.

He can’t help but to grunt, the faint pleasure dizzying. He missed your hand, missed your touch. Haven’t had it in so long. It fits so well in your fist and he believes, in all seriousness, that it belongs to you. It’s yours.

He brushes his lips against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. His brain malfunctions a little bit, the pleasure you’re giving him zapping his dominance. “You like holding me like this?”

You fondle his tip with your thumb and he hisses, sparks of electricity coursing down his body and he hums at the aftershocks. So good. He feels his arousal drip for you; feels himself lengthening in your hand. You nod, watching it happen, and while it feels nice to be looked at like that, he wants your eyes on him. He cradles your face in one hand, making you look at him, and he pecks you. At the contact, you finally nod your head. Jungkook envelops his palm around your fist and guides you to squeeze him harder, groaning onto your mouth.

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises and embraces you, hiding himself in the crook of your neck again, inhaling you. Petrichor, mango, your personal scent. It’s all he wants to breathe in for the rest of his life. It’s what heaven must smell like. Actually, heaven must be what he’s hugging.

You whimper and for it Jungkook tightens his hold around you. Skin to skin. He’ll never get over it. “I love being good for you.”

He hums his approval, following the cascade of your hair down your back with his palm, rooting at your bum, grasping the flesh. “You’re the best girl. Let’s get you clean.”

The loss of contact aches and he can see it even on your face, an adorable pout forming on your mouth. Helping you get in the bathtub, you wait until he joins you and it’s only then that you sit down, unsure of how both of you are going to fit in such a small space like this. Knees in between his, you exchange a few giggles in the awkwardness of it all before Jungkook kisses them and leads you to lean back against him, your spine against his chest, your body getting lost in his.

Turning off the tap, the water is scorching but pleasant, his muscles relaxing, the very little remnants of the fight of his self-blame tearing apart at last. It must be as enjoyable for you because once you settle in and you take in the heat, the effect of the candle, the dimmed light and the soft shower of rain pittering against the windows, you let loose completely, your head slack against his sternum, breathing steadily, eyes fluttering closed. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, your breasts pressed against them, and he loves the feeling of your raw femininity in his hands, in such a nonsexual context. His arousal might be alive and longing for you, but that feeling, somehow, overweighs it in a way he’s unable to understand.

He doesn’t mind; he could stay like this.

And both of you do for some time, feeling each other’s top halves of bodies, resting, thinking of nothing, until you tip your chin and, puckering your lips, you ask for a kiss. Arch your back until your breasts bounce free from his hold. His cock twitches against your back from the sight and you smirk.

Sly little girl. He cages them once again, though this time quite differently. One hand grabs the flesh at the base, the other sneaks to your chin, your other breast nudged in the crook of his elbow. His finger traces the lines of your lips, flattened now, kissing it every once in a while. And as if it was a signal for you to open up when he stalls his movement in the middle, you open up for him. And the feeling of your tongue, the suction of your lips, the sound of it all—it drives him to head down the path of absolute madness.

He might have just found his ultimate weakness.

Jungkook adds a second finger in, when you angle your body, so he can have a good view of it, your head propped against the bathtub wall, lidded eyes fixed on him.

So much for relaxing. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, swiftly, causing your brows to knit in confusion. It humors him, but you’re not getting your way that easily.

“You should relax,” he scolds in a teasing manner, not meaning a word of it. “You’ve had a long day of shopping.”

You laugh through your nose, a soft smile gracing your lips and for a split second, Jungkook wonders if he didn’t ruin the moment again by altering the reality again, bringing back the memory of what’s happened. If he didn’t invite in your guilt, perhaps. You’re here with him, about to be made love to, while the person you still love is dealing with brokenness on the other side of the city.

And he tells you in the form of a kiss sunk into your cheek, drawing your body closer to him, cradling the back of your neck, squishing you against him. It causes you to turn your body to the side, slightly, and Jungkook hikes you higher, letting you lean your face against his cheek like that, pecking you over and over again. There isn’t enough body of water to overspill from the tub, but your shifting caused small waves to lap at your body and Jungkook finds himself transfixed by the sight of it. It seems as though the ripples are worshiping your body and an inkling to do the same, to do better, rises in him—as well as the impulse to tell you with words this time.

He should verbally communicate with you. Just to be safe.

“Did I remind you of it again?”

Your fingertips follow the valleys of his abdomen, half dipped in the water.

“Remind me of what?” you say and there’s a striking gentleness to your voice, some kind of blissfulness that feels terribly foreign to him. “Of my freedom?”

A bearable tightness clutches his chest, interlaced, most heartily, with the simplicity of his shock. Freedom. With his directions, you set yourself free. It should be something to perhaps honor and rejoice over—so why is there still a morsel of pity swarming in him? He needs you to tell him.

A streamlet of tears blurs his vision. Because his clinginess to you intensifies with each move forward, for the most part. Because he feels bad for his friend, for the lesser.

“Why do I feel so bad for him?” Jungkook questions, pressing you harder against him until there isn’t any more space to push you into.

You plop your body onto his. Chest to chest. Tummy to tummy. His cock, a bit soft now, against your femininity. Nonsexually, in all its beauty. You drag your thumbs under his waterline, collecting his essence of pain. His heart constricts.

“My freedom is his,” you say, still holding him like that—both palms on his cheeks. “We’d be stuck in a circle like this. We’d go round and round until one of us would burst and end things eventually. He’d never fully heal in this environment. He’d never look past his own insecurities, not when I’d continue to enjoy myself with you the way I always did.”

He thinks the merry go round had already begun the moment he and Yoongi made up and tried again. And considering the last thing he said to him on the phone today, there’s nothing left to do but to accept it.

Your freedom is his. Those words ring in his headspace, settling there. By unbuckling yourself from the seat of that ride, you did the same for him. And while you got off, Yoongi still remains seated.

For now.

He’ll get out of there. Jungkook believes in him.

“I’m meant to be with you,” you say and his heart goes wild, violently, under your forearm. For you. You’ve said it. You’ve made it official. Brought it into this new reality and Jungkook could weep again—and he does. Touched by his emotions, you kiss his tears, sighing against them. “I’m yours, Jungkook. Have been the moment I looked into your eyes the very first time.”

Your bare, boundless truth drives him to reveal his, too. Such power you have, such strength.

“You know I have feelings for you, right?” he murmurs, an allusion to the way you wept together in the dressing room, brushing your hair back, feeling his tenderness radiating off of his eyes, immensely. How easy it is, to tell you something groundbreaking like that, even as absurdly as he did. “Don’t let go of me. Don’t let go of those feelings. Keep them safe.”

Your own tears pool in your waterline and you nod, a smile glinting upon your lips. So you knew, felt the love like he did, enkindled by your mutual release. He wasn’t wrong. His heart pounds and for the first time upon this trajectory, this doesn’t feel unreal. It feels real. Alive, possible, full of life.

“I do, too. Held them in for so long. Never admitted it to myself for his sake. But that’s over now. I’ll keep it safe. All of you, Jungkook.”

You love him.

His sobs gather in his sternum, his lungs too small to capture them in place.

You love him. And it’s real.

Gripping your hair, he kisses you, deeply. And both streams of tears turn into one river—and both of you can’t halt the hunger creeping in. The hunger for more, for your love to burst at last and absorb your reality. Tongues mingling, tasting something new. Teeth clashing, lips tingling. Breaths hard and ragged. Jungkook can’t take it. Can’t hold back his body from lifting off of the rounded wall of the tub, the water sloshing and splashing all around.

And then you say something that grazes his madness ever so unmercifully.

“Put it in.”

He groans, biting your bottom lip, fingertips making dents on your small waist. Horny girl, asking for something you can’t handle. He swears, his arousal awakening yet again in full speed, taking over him wholly. “I haven’t stretched you out yet.”

You grind your femininity against his tightening cock and he’s done for, feeling your pulse. “Stretch me out like this.”

He squeezes your ass hard, making you moan onto his mouth, in effort to make you listen to him and submit to his better knowing. “It’ll hurt, sweetheart.”

Your breath wafts over him as you close your lips over his, sucking. “I can take it.”

Such a stark contrast to the words you uttered in the dressing room. His madness heightens. So much that he moans into your lip lock, dipping you in the water to make you laugh, clutching onto him as you yelp, your adorable laughter vibrating through the bathroom, bouncing off of the walls and sneaking, in the long run, into the chambers of his heart, coming to live there.

This is happiness.

And the vibrations are too, too much for him to handle. So unusual, so beautiful.

“Hold onto me,” Jungkook commands as he wraps your legs around his torso tighter and rises, stepping out of the bathtub and reaching for a towel in his cabinet while his other hand holds you steady by his forearm under your bum like a child.

Leaving you to your own strength for a second, he wraps the large fabric around you both, bunching the ends in his fist on your back, exiting out of the bathroom and laying you down onto his bed. Your hair sprawls on his bedding and he thinks you look like an angel, maddened just the same by something beyond lust, by something way purer. He kisses your lips, fleetingly, and begins to focus on your neck, unfurling his love there. He sucks your wet skin, licking it all over, scattering his hard kisses there—the ones that drive you wild, moaning loudly and bravely, deservingly so. And he marks this victorious day there with pretty, pretty colors of red and purple. Doesn’t stop. Not until you beg him, writhing underneath him, excited and eager.

“Please, Jungkook, take me.”

Such sweet, innocent words. He listens, cooing, dragging you further up on the bed, so he can lie on top of you and take his hard kisses further down, marking all the places where your invisible tattoos are, bringing them to life all over again. Above both of your nipples, especially on the right one, where that frilly rose was, covering the peak. And he feels you melt, feels you soak his lower abdomen when he sucks on that nub, flicking his tongue, making you cry out so beautifully, so desperately that his arousal for you rigidifies. And when he looks at his artwork, fists propped on either side of you like his knees, it steals all of his breath.

“You look so beautiful like this. All mine.”

All his, wet with the last drops of water, with the pearls of his saliva, with your essence coating your folds. Adorned with red tattoos. He has his own on his arm and hand, except on his chest and he thinks the one he gave you make up for it. Thinks they’re his as much as they’re yours and it causes his length to twitch against his stomach, so terribly needy for you.

“And you look beautiful like this. All hard for me,” you mimic his words and he grows feral, even more so when you continue. “It’s all mine, isn’t it?” You take him into your hand again, but he pins both of your wrists down, above your head. And the smile you grace him with—it makes him yearn to make love to you like this. Bound, while the rest of you would remain the quite opposite.

He growls, kissing you. “All yours. All yours for you to take and come around. All yours, my sweetheart. Always has been.” He kisses you harder and you whimper. Pulls away just to swirl his tongue around yours, open mouth and all, before closing his lips down again in a profound, warm and homely lock. “Spread your legs for me. I’m gonna get you ready for it.”

He does it himself, folding you in half, the glistening of your folds visible even in the slight lack of light in the room. Oh, he can’t have you like this. Reaching behind himself, he turns on his bedside lamp, bathing you in a soft, yellow light that suits you the most. You’re holding your legs apart for him and he places wet kisses on the back of your thigh, ravagedly, to reward you for it, trailing them down until he’s face to face with your drenched princess parts. And it’s a groan of relief that emits out of him when he’s this close to you, hands pushing your knees down, spreading you even more to gratify his hunger.

He’s starving. Terribly starving.

And he rolls his eyes back when he takes the entirety of you into his mouth, tongue dragging upon your slit, up and down, drinking your dew, penetrating only a little bit just to tease you, just to mess around with your madness. And when he flattens his tongue against your swollen clit, you cry out. Surprise him when you grip his hair, enough to cause him to flick his eyes to you. Your mouth is parted, but grinning nonetheless, your own eyes heavily lidded, emitting light and joy and Jungkook simply decides to make this experience better for you.

He lifts your hips in the air and devours you, lapping at your clit over and over again, letting you see what he’s doing to you without taking his eyes off of you, nose pressed against your shiny mound. You whisper your vulgarities and he’d let it pass if he didn’t consider this a holy, spiritual occurrence. He withdraws and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, the way your slick trickles down your clit and your mound, rooting in the squishy part of your lower tummy. He hums, delighting in the sight.

“Be good,” he scolds, smiling down at you and your grin widens. You nod your head, your hands still crossed above you without his to hold them down. Scratch his words—you’re already the best girl. He licks up the trickle of your essence trailing down your clit, making you writhe again. “Feel how wet you are for me.”

Carefully, you skim your palm down your soaked belly, gasping, until your fingers reach your nub, the concoction of his saliva and your arousal seeping into your skin. He encourages you with noises of approval to keep going, bending you even more in half, your back leaning against his thighs, the pads of your fingers circling your center, eyes wide at the discovery, able to see just how celestially aroused you are for him. So beautiful. He bites onto the flesh upon the side of your thigh, only because he can’t help it, soothing down the sting with his tongue. And he hums at the sound of your moans, at the sound of your slipperiness when you drag your fingers down to your clit and stop there.

“Hm, yes, sweetheart, rub that pretty clit for me,” he murmurs and his chest explodes at the principle that he’s able to say that to you. That he doesn’t need anyone’s permission or approval. That he can do whatever he pleases with you without any consequences to reap. That he’s free. You must be thinking about this, too, but in a different way, because you hesitate. He’ll destroy that dubiety. It won’t show its face again—as long as he lives on this earth. “You can do it, my love. You’re free.”

The reassurance washes over you and rids you of that fleeting negativity. He understands this is new for the both of you—there’s some still getting used to, so it’s completely normal. He’ll try his hardest to make this as much of an easy ride for you as he can. It’s his duty.

“Don’t be afraid,” he continues, adding your name, softly. “You’re here with me and you’re safe.”

Jungkook leans over and kisses you. You nod into the kiss and he returns to his position, catching you rubbing your clit, slowly, with two fingers, the other spread on your folds. And both of you moan simultaneously.

“That’s it,” he whispers, enthralled, making way for the sound of your slick to overpower the atmosphere. “That’s my good girl. Make yourself feel good for me.”

You whimper his name, buckling your hips in his hold, squeezing your eyes shut and Jungkook can see the waves of pressure charging your tender body. Now is the time for his participation.

He sinks his middle finger inside, making your eyes pop open and stare him down, just for you to submerge yourself under the surface of that sea of lust and let your irises whisk back. Your walls clench around him and he waits until you speed up your circles to join his other finger, biting his lip to push back his desire to sink himself inside you. He tries to pay little attention to the way he drips for you.

But then you use the rest of your fingers to bring yourself to your climax and Jungkook takes it as a sign. Another finger in, he curls them, fucking you the way you like. Fast, grazing your sweet little spot that beckons your sweat out of your pores and when your pussy drools even more for him, he adds another. You gasp and he knows exactly how you’re feeling, how good this is for you.

“You feel so full, sweetheart, don’t you?” he coos, jackhammering his hand harder and you drench it, completely. He flattens his fingers, allowing you to see the thick sheen and you mewl, a litany of his name spilling along. “You’re so wet. So horny for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna come?”

You scream your agreement, squirming, strumming your fingers harder and this is it for him. He changes direction. Fucks his fingers up and down and your toes curl, chest heaving heavily and you just keep on screaming. A delightful sound.

“Come for me, then. Like the best girl you are.”

You clench around him. So much that he can barely move his fingers, sunk in so deeply. He just flexes them, drawing out your orgasm and you give it to him.

And you’re wet all over again. Sprinkled by pearls upon pearls of your pleasure. He is, too, and it worsens his desperation for you.

You’re panting, but he’s not done with you. Setting you down, he laps up the violent evidence of your orgasm, making you twitch in overstimulation and he eases the pressure of his tongue for you. Sucking on your folds, he decides to mark you there. Just below your hip bone, too. Such intimate places. Perfect for a temporary keepsake like this.

Hovering above you, he circles his tongue tinged with your taste around yours, forcing you to moan again. And he kisses you softly. “You deserved that orgasm.”

You whine, red all over, and Jungkook understands you need more. He pulls away, clutches himself to line up at your entrance, but you stop him.

“I want you.”

He smirks, longs to hear you be more specific. “How?”

You huff. So adorable. “In my mouth.”

He chuckles. Should’ve asked where, but he’s at your service—he’s willing to give you anything you want. “All right, but just for a little bit, okay?” You nod, vehemently, and he pats your cheek. “On your knees.”

Oh, he’ll never tire of the view of your submissiveness, of your hunger for such a private part of him. He makes a mess for you on the towel, dripping more than he ever has, and he holds himself at the base, grabbing your jaw in his hand. Brutality, the one he’s obsessed with, swims past your irises when you gaze up at him. A feral animal, an angel in hiding—he’d love to embellish you with the sticky traces of his fixation, but he shouldn’t, no matter how much he craves it. He can’t stain you, not today. Can’t ruin the holiness. He’ll let you play with him before he seals it for all eternity.

Tomorrow he will. Smear you with it until it’s all your pores know.

Jungkook traces the lines of your mouth with the tip of his length, just like he did with his finger in the bathtub, and you hum, liking it. He can vividly see your yearning to rub your face against him again and he lets you, encourages you in fact, pulling you closer until you nuzzle your nose against his girth, his skin caressing your cheek, and you kiss him all over. Place your hands over his and suck him inside your mouth, drinking his precum. Only to withdraw right away, sit back on your legs without lifting your hands, and look up at him with the vastness of your overbearing innocence and love.

“You’re mine,” you purr, fucking him with your fist.

Jungkook nods, just once. Doesn’t even feel his butterflies anymore, too numbed by you, by the pleasure you’re giving him. “That’s right, my love.”

You suck in a breath, biting your lip hard as if it took all of your energy not to make him come at this very instant. And you lengthen your spine, asking for a kiss again, and he bends at the waist, kissing you nastily, pushing your head back to his cock, inciting you to do what you truly crave to.

And you take him so well, your cheeks hollow, and he’s unabashed, free to let out his male noises, whimpering for you, panting heavily as you bob your head, slurping him, spitting on him. You toy with his tip, tugging at his length, colliding into his fist and it isn’t until you rub your face against his balls that it becomes his undoing. He stalls his orgasm, strains to do so, just to please you and he pries your hands away from his length, lets you focus on his sack. The least he could do to last. But then you grab it into your fist, sucking his balls, one by one, into your mouth, even try to take both of them at once and that’s it. He can’t breathe, his heart wringing painfully with all the love that brims in him for you. No one has ever done that to him.

You flick your tongue against them, your other hand wrapping around his tip again, tugging and he nears dangerously close to the bursting of his orgasm.

“That’s enough.”

He draws you away from his cock, using all of his strength, and pins you down. A splutter of your giggles waft in the air, your chin wet with your spit and he moves his mouth so rapidly against yours that you struggle to kiss him back, growing calm all of a sudden, as if overcome with the gravity of it all.

He looks at you for a long while. Puffy, red mouth, that he craves to bite onto—and he does. Darkened eyes, full of freedom and exhilaration. Neck, chest, tummy and the rest of the delicious parts of you scattered with hickeys, with his own personal keepsakes. He loves you so much that he becomes frustrated, needing to let it out somehow. All of his muscles tense and he clenches his grip on your wrists.

“You want me to die? Is that what you want?” he hisses, speaking of the sloppy blowjob you gave him, gliding his wet cock across your seashell. You lose a breath, drowsy eyes fluttering, spreading your legs for him. No wonder you’re tired—you gave it your all. He sinks his teeth hard into his bottom lip, his frustration rising, brows knitted. “You can’t play with me like that. I was seconds away from coming all over your pretty face.”

“I wanted you to,” you say, loud and clear, and Jungkook is hot all over.

Turning you over to your side, he squeezes the flesh of your bum until it hurts as a punishment, knowing you’re not ready for the full thing. It’s too soon. Your wincing breaks into a low, alluring moan and it fills him with adrenaline. And then you smile at him, light flashing in your countenance. You’re anything but punished; you’re pleased.

Looks like you need another form of punishment.

Fuck it, fuck all spiritual aspects of this. The angels in heaven need to look away for now and cover their ears. He’s going to make love to you in a way they’ve never witnessed before and it’s good that they never will.

“What did you say?” Jungkook feignedly questions, pinning you back down and burying himself in your heat. Having stretched you out well enough, he gives you his half right away, but he doesn’t stop there, not when you lift your chest off of the mattress, not when you lose yourself in the sudden fullness and the music of your mutual moans. You grip him so tight that he forgets, for a split moment, what he’s punishing you for.

You stammer, seemingly forgetting, too. And when his mound kisses yours, your words falter altogether—a crescendo into silence. Eyes wide, unblinking, taking him most courageously. Jungkook hums, immensely proud of you, slowly pounding you into the mattress with hard strokes.

And when he gives you a particularly unmerciful one, you scream, shaking all over in his hands.

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s what you get,” he purrs, grinding his hips, loving the way he toys with your senses, your peaked nubs digging into his chest, and you can’t catch your breath, your whole body tense. “Too deep?”

You nod. “Too deep, baby, I can’t take it, fuck. It’s too much.”

Cooing, he kisses you. The pet name, your tightness—he’s losing his mind and it’s your fault. Your wonderful, wonderful fault. You don’t even let him pull out, you keep him caged in, your walls fluttering against him and he whimpers, shaking like you, unable to continue kissing you.

“Relax, my love, or you’re really gonna kill me,” he croaks out, ascending to heavenly places where they don’t, in most certainty, don’t want to see him. Sitting back on his feet, he thumbs your clit, helping you calm down. “Good girl. Feels good, stuffed full like this? My thumb rubbing your sweet little clit, hm?”

It is a miracle, the way he knows your body and knows what to do with it because your walls loosen, enabling him to fuck you, sloppily, your slick squeaking along with your quickening breaths. You scream out your yeses, driving him to give you his all.

“Just like that,” he whispers, approving, his balls tightening already, the pressure in his lower tummy becoming bigger.

You deserve the full thing, though. Jungkook places your knee on his shoulder. And with each stroke, his mound stimulates your clit, getting you nice and fast to his level.

He cradles your blissed-out face, the heel of his palm putting pressure on your throat. And onto that expression of elation, he uncoils his love for you, brutally fucking you until your whole body ripples beneath him.

“Whose are you, huh?” he moans, driving into you, rearranging your guts. Sweat drips off of his forehead. “Whose pretty girl are you?”

Your own sounds of pleasure rise in pitch and volume and he senses, he knows you’re about to come for him.

“Yours, Jungkook, yours,” you choke out and he’s so proud of you that he hums, his balls slapping against your bum, and he kisses you, giving you his tongue. You suck on it, getting him right there to the edge of his orgasm.

“Fuck, such a good girl. All mine. You know that I love you, right?”

And the once reappearing absurdity of his choice of words pushes over that edge and you squeeze him, squeeze him hard, milking his cum out of you and he growls into your mouth. You take over each and every one of his senses, making them yours, and he fucks his cum into you, his mouth smacking against yours, as you whisper your I love you’s and he swallows them down.

Heaven or something beyond. You created it and he wants to spend the rest of his life there.

Panting, he kisses your jaw, marking you there for the last time. Unbelief grasping him that he finds himself in such a place glazed with love. “You love me?”

You whimper, shuddering all over, your orgasm still seizing you. “I love you so fucking much.”

He licks into your mouth, ending your release. “My best girl. I’ll take care of you. I’ll never let you go. You’re never getting out of my sight again.”

Jungkook lets go of your wrists. They must be cramping, tingling and he massages them in the air, sitting back, his length still inside your homely heat. Your eyes wet again, sobs break out of your mouth and he shushes you most affectionately, his heart twinging. He lifts you and sits you down on his lap, hugging you close to his chest. Skin to skin. You cling to him with everything in you and he holds you together, so you don’t fall apart.

“You’re my savior. My healer,” you wail, gripping his hair. As if your breaking wasn’t enough, your words hit him hard and his vision soaks along with yours. You’ve never told him that before—never told him the roles he has in your life. He appreciates them so much, holds them dear to his heart. Never wants to forget them. “Don’t ever leave me, please. I beg you.”

It’s him who now breaks. Right there on your shoulder, beneath the waterfall of your hair.

“I could never. You’re my life. You’re my everything. How could I ever leave you?”

You sob harder, lifting your head, and the sight of your rawness makes him fall even more in love with you. Jungkook smooths down your hair and wipes away your tears. Kisses you, deeply, and lingers there. And along with the kiss, you and him exchange your last I love you’s for the night.

Tub drained, candle snuffed out, cheese balls devoured, the rain finishing like that chapter of your life—Jungkook feels himself entering a brand new one with you, one where Yoongi isn’t present, as he dresses you in his clothes. For panties, he slinks your legs into his boxers, keeping them warm with a pair of his own joggers. Then, he tugs his hoodie down your head, pushing your arms through the sleeves. Smirks at the way his clothes fit you well. As if they were your own. At the way he matches with you.

He overflows with a thrumming life.

A brand new chapter filled with myriads of different, ecstatic possibilities. And you seal them to completion, when tucked in bed, lying on his chest, you sleepily utter the first prospect that you want to bring to life.

“Will you take me to your cabin tomorrow?”

His breath hitches in his throat. He never thought he’d be returning there so soon, especially not with you. His mouth quirks up, body suffused with a foreign excitement, and right away he deduces the reason why you want to go there.

“You really want that dildo, don’t you?”

You merely laugh through your nose.

Oh, he’s calling in sick tomorrow. Will take you there first thing in the morning. Will do absolutely anything for you.

“I’ll fuck you hard with it until you completely drench it, then. Sleep for now, so we can get to tomorrow.”

You kiss his clothed chest. Nuzzle your face in it. Whisper your thank you. Jungkook pretends he didn’t just get hard all over again.

“Good night,” you say.

He pecks your hair. “Good night, sweetheart.”

BACK to masterlist

#jungkook x oc #yoongi smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot #yoongi x oc #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine

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spectorswife · 3 months ago

Text

Where the Heart Never Left

Pairing: Kuai Liang/reader

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: 18+ only, SMUT with plot, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, biting, fingering, edging, afab!reader, let me know if I missed anything please.

AN: this is my first time writing a fanfiction, so I apologize in advance if this is terrible. This is definitely not proof read

This takes place during part 1 of the story, after Bihan and Kuai fought. (I have not played the DLC yet so please no spoilers) but enjoy the read :)

MDNI PLEASE

It’s been weeks since you stood by Bi-Han, trying to rebuild the Lin Kuei in his image, and every day feels heavier than the last. A part of you keeps whispering that this is the right path, but the weight of what you left behind gnaws at you constantly—your partner, Kuai Liang the only person who ever made me feel like home; who is also Bihan’s brother. You thought you could live with that choice, thought you could bury it deep enough, but it still haunts you. The memory of that day claws at your mind every night, refusing to let go. You abandoned the love of your life, betrayed him for some misplaced sense of duty, and the guilt... the guilt is suffocating. You know you've let him down; you can feel it. He’s probably disgusted, and honestly, you don’t blame him. You deserve it. You left him to burn while you sought comfort in the cold.

*I keep telling myself to let it go, but my mind refuses to listen, dragging me back into this endless pit of doubt. No matter how hard I try, it claws at me, screaming that I’m wrong—always wrong. It was all too much. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, so I left. I left the temple, my Grandmaster, the Lin Kuei; only for a little while. I just needed space… I needed air that wasn’t thick with guilt, shame, and judgment in every corner, hearing Kuai’s voice whispering in my head begging me to not leave and his brother telling me I’ve done the right thing. I couldn’t take it anymore, too much for me to handle.. I know I’ll go back, I have to.. That place is a part of me, no matter how much it hurts.*

——————————————————————————————————

*I’m home, but nothing feels right. I thought the voices, the guilt, would stop once I left the source of my agony altogether for a bit. But damn, it’s still here, eating away at me. I want it all to stop. I want what’s best for the clan, but not at the cost of my own sanity. I miss how things used to be. No feuds, no Shang Tsung—just... peace. Gods, I miss you.. I miss you Kuai. I miss what we were, before I walked away. Every part of me wishes you’d come back to me, even though I know I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you. I can’t shake this gnawing feeling that I ruined it all, and there’s no going back now. I must live with it, even though it keeps me up at night.*

The nightmares never stop. You can barely sleep, and when you do, it’s worthless. Most nights, you stay up, trying to outrun the horrors that haunt you the moment you close your eyes, but it doesn’t matter. None of it does. Being awake is just another nightmare—one you can’t escape from. Every breath, every second, is a reminder that you're still trapped, still living the same twisted nightmare; the loss of the love of your life. Sleep offers no peace, but neither does staying awake. It’s a never-ending cycle, and you're drowning in it. All because you picked a damn side. *Damn you Shang Tsung.. Damn you.. you ripped my family apart. These brothers — they were my family. Kuai.. my love, Bihan.. my teacher My protector, Tomas.. My good friend… they were everything to me. Everything I had, and you poisoned Bihan’s mind, shattered the bonds we shared. You took them from me, turned them against each other. I’ve lost everything and… you *gained* from it.. Damn you*

———————————————————————————————

It’s one of those nights again. The nightmares come for you the moment you fall asleep, playing out the same twisted scene on repeat. Bi-Han and Kuai fighting—again. You see it all happen just like before: the ice blade slicing across your lover’s face, the blood, the pain. But this time, it’s worse. This time, Bi-Han doesn’t stop. He goes to finish it, to end Kuai right in front of you... and you’re frozen, helpless, unable to move. Just as the nightmare is about to unravel into something even darker, you’re jolted awake by a knock at the door.

You wake up, disoriented, your mind still tangled in the nightmare. Who could it be? You drag yourself to the door, every step weighed down by exhaustion, your body a mess—hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled, eyes heavy with the remnants of sleep.

You open the door and you see him

Kuai? Your eyes widen instantly with still hints of sleep behind your eyes. He looks rather frantic as well..

What are you doing here? It’s late. More importantly.. Why are you here?

Kuai exhibits a rather shocked expression seeing you in your disheveled state. He didnt think you would answer the door, or quite frankly, even be home. But he quickly composes himself.

“Im sorry for waking you. I didn't realize it was this late. I couldn’t sleep myself. I just… need to speak with you.. May I come in?”

You stare at him with such a soft expression after hearing his words. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, so you allow him in without a second thought.

“I’m going back to my room to fix myself, I’m a mess right now… evidently… If you wish to follow, please don’t hesitate”

Kuai nods appreciatively and follows you into your home. As you two both enter, you can sense that something is troubling him, however youre conflicted in whether or not it’s your place to ask. But you cave in anyway.

“What’s troubling you Kuai Liang”. The thought of not being as affectionate with him anymore since the incident is killing you, but you know its not right to feel as if your entitled to it.

“It’s… a lot of things, really. But the main thing that has been on m mind these past few weeks is us. Our situation really, or better yet, our separation you can say. I know you chose Bihan’s side, but part of me feels like whats left of us is still there..”

You look back to him confused after fixing yourself up

“I didnt think there was still an "us" Kuai Liang.. I kept telling myself that since that day. I kept telling myself that you hated me so I wouldn’t continue dwelling but- it wasn’t working”

Kuai’s heart aches as he hears your words and his gaze towards you softens as well.

“Till this day I still don't understand why you chose his side. But I know you, and you probably have a better judgment than him. I've just been struggling with my feelings for a whole. I cant shake the memory of what we once had before the feud. I cant shake- "

Kuai hesitates for a moment before he finishes his sentence

“I can’t shake the love that I still hold for you”

A surge of surprise and relief washes over you at his words. You decide to take a seat because its all too much to handle. Deep down, you always hoped he’d come back, but there’s a part of you that knows you don’t deserve his love—not after everything you’ve done. You can’t let yourself make any assumptions, so instead, you blurt out the question.

“What are you saying Kuai Liang…”

Kuai takes a seat next to you, there is still some tension present, your bodies aren’t facing each other but his eyes are locked onto yours as he considers what he wishes to say next.

“I’m saying I want you.. my sweet girl.. if you- still wish to be called that. I want us together again… I miss loving you, being with you. I know with circumstances now it won’t be easy but my love for you has never died.”

You try with everything in you to look away from him, but it’s impossible. A flood of emotions crashes over you—longing, guilt, desperation. You’ve been waiting for this moment, losing sleep over it night after night. And now, here he is. Yet, the shame is overwhelming, weighing down every part of you, twisting your desire into something you can barely face.

“Sweetheart.. please.. look at me” He gently turns your face toward him, his touch soft but his gaze intense, more so than ever before. Your faces are so close now, and you can’t help but let your eyes flicker between his and his lips. Desire floods through you, but you’re torn. You *want* this—crave it, even—but deep down, you know you don’t deserve it. Not after everything.

“I’ve missed you so much. Being apart from you has been hell.”

Your gaze softens at his words yet your inner turmoil has become your worst enemy. “I’ve missed you too.. but I’ve betrayed you Kuai.. and I don’t deserve forgiveness..”

“Be that as it may..." *Kuai’s voice is firm but still carrying that softness you’ve always known.* "I believe in forgiveness, especially when it’s you. What matters now is what we choose to do from here. Are you ready to accept us, to try again? To build something stronger... together?”

You stay silent after he speaks, the conflict inside you twisting tighter. You avoid his eyes, looking anywhere but at him, but it’s useless. His hand gently caresses your cheek, drawing you in. Slowly, the space between you fades, the tension thickening as you both move closer, your noses almost brushing. Your gazes lock, and in that moment, it’s impossible to ignore the mix of desire and love simmering between you.

“Kuai..” Is the only word that slips from your lips. You feel your heart beat increase and you hope and pray he doesn’t hear it..

“Please…” is all he says in return. And you can’t help but wonder what he’s pleading.

“Please let me kiss you..”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, but you know the consequences of this endeavor if Bihan were to find out. “We cant..” You say in a slight whisper, trying to mask the desire in your voice.

“I know… but I’m finding it hard to resist. My heart yearns for you my love. I’ve missed you”

You let out a sigh with a mixture of frustration and lust. You know you want him. You’ve craved this moment for so long, you have the love of your life back. But you cant help but feel like this is a dream.

“I’m willing to live with the consequences sweetheart, let my brother find out. As long as I have you, my will to fight will always be great. Sweetheart.. I need you..”

You can't help but sigh once again, feeling his breath fan over your face. You are struggling to give in, and you find your hand placed on his leg as you give it an involuntary squeeze.

Kuai hisses at your action, pressing his forehead against yours; he closes his eyes in frustration. “You're making it very hard for me to hold back.. please.. please.. let me taste you”

His pleading whispers to you send a shiver down your spine. You are still feeling conflicted. It’s very clear what you want and deep down you dont know what’s stopping you from getting it. You rise from your bed in frustration immediately puling yourself out of this situation and start to pace. Kuai is caught off guard by your sudden movement, he gaze towards you as your standing is still a mixture of lust and frustration with now a hint of confusion. “Wait! Where are you going?” his voice now filled with concern as if he’s done something wrong.

“Fuck it” is all you can say before you turn around and pull him in. Your lips pressed against his, the kiss filled with hunger and need.

He pulls you in closer, is muscular arms wrapping tightly around your body, holding you possessively against him as your mouths mold together in such a passionate kiss. You cup his face, internally you wish for him to not pull away. Your steps make your way back to the foot of the bed. Your hands on Kuai’s face feel like a lifeline for him, anchoring him to this moment. The love you two have once shared evidently present in this moment, you two have missed this, you’ve yearned for it for so long and the moment is finally here. As your steps take you back to the bed, he pushes you gently against the footboard, pressing his body against yours, needing to feel every inch of you. The kiss deepens and his hands slowly begin to wander over your body.

Your back slowly falls onto the bed and your legs voluntarily wrap around his waist. Kuai Liang’s body begins to hover over you, body pressed against you, intertwined in a perfect and desperate embrace. His lips move from yours and make their way to your jawline, then down to your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses where he can feel your pulse throbbing wildly. He pulls away for a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact, he presses his forehead against yours and looks you deep into your eyes, his voice rough and ragged, being consumed by the intensity of this moment.

“Fuck I’ve missed you sweet girl”

His words send a jolt through your body as you involuntarily grind upwards into him.. Your voice soft and whiny, “I’ve missed you most”

You pull at the hem of his Shirai Ryu uniform wishing for more contact than you two currently have. Knowing your desires, Kuai leans back, giving you space to lift the top of his uniform over his head and toss it aside, his bare chest now exposed to your gaze. In doing so, you reciprocate the action and take off the top of your clothing. You feel his eyes roam over your bare skin, taking in every inch of you, scanning over your collarbone, your chest, your stomach, he’s taking in everything.. like an animal eyeing his prey. He reaches out, his fingertips caressing your curves ever so slightly. His voice low, filled with tenderness and adoration… “You’re so beautiful… every part of you… may I?”

You feel your breath quicken as he touches you and it makes you yearn for him so much more. “Yes.. im yours..” You pull him in for another needy kiss. Your breathless words and the way you pulled him in ignites a primal hunger within him. His hands roam over your bare skin as he presses himself against you. It has been so long since you two have had a moment like this that he is at a loss for words.. “I- I need you..”

“You have me”

Hearing those words unleashed the last bit of restraint he had, claiming your mouth once more in a demanding kiss. His rough calloused hands grab a hold of your hips and presses you into the mattress. He leaves tender kisses over your bare skin, slowly making his way down, you feel your breath quicken once more until he reaches to the waist band of your pants. He looks up at you with desire and you give him a nod. With full permission, he undresses the lower half of your body and he can’t help but let out a low grown at the sight. He stares at your pussy in awe and see how its glistening in your arousal already.. he hasn’t even touched you yet..

“Gods..” He leans his head down on the mattress, trying to keep his composure but you feel yourself writhing from underneath him. “Kuai… please..” You reach towards his head as you wish to push him closer to your heat.

“Patience sweet girl… needy are we?”

“I need you please.. I need your tongue..”

“Oh darling.. I’m going to take my time with you..”

Kuai presses a tantalizing lick against your folds as you let out a low moan. Your legs could help but close but Kuais hands pry you open once more and keep you pinned.. “no hiding now sweetheart.. just sit back and enjoy..”

Your finger run through his dark hair and you give a tug as he pressed another lick against you and makes his way down to your hole. The tug sends a chill down his spine as he moans at the pain of your pull, radiating in between your legs. The sounds you make are music to his ears and he wishes to pulll every ounce of sound out of you. He presses kisses to your inner thighs and nibbles at each side before diving right back into you. He slowly licks up to your clit and takes it in his mouth gently as twirls his tongue around you. Your back arches at the action and your grip on his hair tightens and Kuai groans once more.

“Fuck..” Is all you can say. The pleasure is too great and you feel it building up. Your core begins to tighten at his continuous actions. He recognizes your bodily reactions all too well, he knows youre close, however he doesn’t wish for this moment to be over yet.

“Baby.. please” you plead. Your voice filled with desperation. “I’m gonna-“

He stops

The loss of the build up has you in shambles. You plead and look down as to why he stopped, and you see a slight smirk on his face, as his chin is glistening in your juices. he rises back up to your face, “Did you really think it was going to be that easy sweetheart? I told you, I’m taking my sweet time with you” he presses a kiss against your open lips tongue swirling around yours as your taste yourself on his tongue. He makes his way back down in between your legs and stares at you. “Be a good girl for me yeah?” Not knowing what he has planned, you nod regardless, biting your lip to suppress a moan.

He repeats his actions once more, lapping at your juices, his nose rubs against your clit in the right spot and it causes a high pitched moan to escape your lips. Kuai smiles at what he hears as he continues licking at your folds. He takes two fingers and inserts them inside of you. Surprised by the sudden insertion, you pull at Kuai’s hair in pleasure with one hand and you are grasping your bed sheets with another. “Fuck!” You feel his fingers pumping in and out of you as he continues abusing your clit. His pace quickens and he feels the same buildup in your body once more, you tightening around his fingers, almost consuming them involuntarily, the pleasure is too much for you to handle. “I’m gonna-“

“Do it sweetheart, let me taste you fully, you can let go”

You feel yourself reach your climax and you let goes completely, your body almost trembles and shakes as he makes you cum hard into his mouth. Taking in everything that you leave behind. He rises from in between your legs as he stares at your disheveled state and gently caresses your face. “You're not done yet love.. brace yourself” Kuai presses a tender kiss to your lips and your forehead. You smile at his action as you watch him undo his pants, letting his dick free, already dripping with precum. It really was a sight for you. Oh how you missed him…

He slowly aligned himself to your entrance, pushes in achingly slow earning moans escaping from both of your lips. “Fuck..” Kuai groans underneath his breath. You hiss as he stretches you in such a familiar way. He places one of his hands on your cheek as his arm keeps him afloat as he hovers over you. His movements are slow, wanting to drag this out as long as possible as he takes your lips in for another passionate kiss. “I love you..” He whispers between each slow thrust. you moan at his movements and you reciprocate his loving words, “I love you too Kuai..”

His smallest movements cause your walls to tense around him. With each rock, his breathing deepens and his pants become more desperate but he holds out a little bit longer. You bring your hands to his back as you bring his upper half closer to you, you dig his nails in his back “faster please..”

His self composure slowly crumbling, his pace starts to pick up his eyes locked onto yours, he removes his hand from your face and presses it down on your lower stomach, knowing it feels good for you.

“Talk to me baby.. how does it feel..?” he knows the answer to that, he knows your body like the back of his hand already. He just wishes to hear your voice.

“Perfect..” Your words make his pace alot faster than before. Needy pants escape both of your lips, noises of arousal fill your bedroom. He starts pounding into you, the pace becoming unmatched. Kuai feels his own climax unravelling and his voice starts to become filled with need. “Im so close…”

As Kuai keeps his fast pace, he starts to increase the power behind each thrust literally fucking you senseless. No words escape your lips, just your jaw slacked open, the pleasure becoming too much to handle. It’s becoming too much to handle for him too, Kuai begins to whimper in his own pleasure as you both finally reach your climax. Kuai cums hard into you as you cum as well, your juices all over his dick as his seed spews in your insides. The pressure in both of your nerves finally releases. He pulls out of you and falls next to you. You both lay there for a while, completely fucked out of your minds. As youre catching your breaths, you look down suddenly and see Kuai’s cum leaking out of you and onto your bedsheets. You look back up and stare at him next to you, and you laugh in contentment as you wrap your arms around him. Kuai slightly moans at your sudden touch before he turns to face you and wrap his arms around you. Pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You both hum in relief and contentment as you both fall asleep, completely enveloped in each other’s presence, as if the rest of the world has faded away. You prayed for his return every night, despite the nagging doubt of whether you truly deserved his affection. You missed him so deeply, longing for the days when you were together, wishing for nothing more than to have him back in your life. And now he’s here, in your room and completely engulfed by his presence. And you wish for nothing more.

The morning hits, sunlight filtering through your window, gently stirring Kuai awake from his sleep. He wakes up slowly, arms still wrapped around you. He takes in the sight of you sleeping and a wave of contentment washes over him. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, a soft smile paying at the corners of his mouth. He notices the peaceful expression on your face as you begin to stir in your sleep. For the first time since the incident, you have slept with no nightmares; he notices a sense of serenity as you sleep and it fills him with so much relief. He continues to watch you before gently rubbing his fingers against your arm in a soothing affectionate gesture.

You sleepily moan at his touch and push yourself further into his embrace. Your sounds make Kuai’s heart skip a beat as he continues to rub your arm. As you stir awake, your back facing his chest, you let out a sleepy satisfied hum as he presses his lips towards the back of your neck and nuzzles his face into your hair, breathing n your scent and savoring the feeling of your body pressed against his. You feel his fingers tracing soothing patterns against your skin; you sleepily take his hand and place it to your lips as you press kisses from his palm to his fingertips. You actions make his heart swell with love, admiring the affectionate gesture. He lets out a soft sigh, hand gently cupping your face and whispering in your ear..

“Gods you're incredible”

You let out a sleepy giggle at his words, wishing you could stay in this moment forever. It feels like a dream come true, a piece of fate finally falling into place. The love you both share has never faded, and it’s as if none of the betrayal, none of the pain ever happened. In this moment, there is only the two of you—untouched by the past, as if you’d never chosen Bi-Han’s side, as if the love in your hearts had never left.

#kuai liang scorpion #kuai liang #kuai liang mk1 #kuai liang smut #kuai liang x reader #bi han mk #bi han sub zero #mk1 #mortal kombat #mk1 smut

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imaginesheaven · 2 years ago

Text

Lonely Water (GN!Reader x TF141)

Lonely Water

GN!Reader x TF 141 (platonic)

Summary: You crash into the ocean with a helicopter during a mission. Waiting for your hopefully on time rescue you relive some of your favorite memories of your team. Kind of inspired by the song “Hold Back The River” by James Bay.

Callsign: Phoenix

Length: Around 2.3k words

Warnings: Swearing as always, angst, mentions of injuries, drowning

“Mayday! Eagle 3 is coming down in the middle of the ocean. The pilot is dead and I have no fucking clue how to fly this thing! … Oh, fucking hell…”

There is nothing but darkness around you. The mysterious but dark night sky with thousand shining stars above you and the deadly ocean lurking beneath you. The water is just waiting for you to lose the last of your endurance so you can sink into its cold embrace.

“I’m stronger than you think”, you hiss at the tiny waves of dark ocean water, but you are actually not sure how much longer you will survive. The cold of the sea comes creeping in what feels for hours now. It made itself a home in your bones so deeply freezing that your lips have turned already blue. The feeling in your arms and legs starts to fade just like your will of survival.

The helicopter sunk within minutes after the horrific crash into the water. There was literally nothing left to cling onto. You wouldn’t be Jack clinging for dear life onto a wooden door, while your true love stays safely above the freezing water.

The thought of the Titanic brings a weak smile onto your lips. At least you still got your humor with you to keep you company.

Darkness fills your mind with the sinking dread that your team probably wouldn’t be fast enough to rescue from this death trap. Your form floats on the water like a dead man hoping to delay the bitter end for just another few minutes.

The exhaustion slowly takes over as your eyes flutter shut desperate for a moment of rest. Cold water comes rushing over your face since the ocean was waiting for its chance to drown you in its embrace. The water is merciless. Adrenaline rushes through your vein bringing back your will to fight. You swim with weak strokes back to the surface. How much longer can you keep up against the sea?

“Oi! Not so fast, Phoenix!”, a familiar voice behind you yells out. The dirt beneath your shoes crunches as you jog through a patch of trees. Wait, a minute. The water surrounding you has vanished? This can’t be real, right? It hast to be a memory.

“Too bad you are so slow, Soap. You could easily catch up with me if you would work out a bit more”, you reply to the familiar voice behind you. Soap stares at you speechless for a second before he speeds up to catch you. Laughing you send him a wink and even put more speed on to outrun him more than easily.

Soap grunts with exhaustion ready to bring you down with him. He jumps forward his arms stretched out. This man is an open book for you for years now. Still grinning you make a step to the side completely out of his reach. Soap falls to the ground without you.

Absolutely pumped you start your little victory dance knowing exactly that in the distance Price, Gaz and Ghost are watching the two of you with binoculars. “That was quite a fall Soap took there”, the Captain comments the downfall of the poor Scott, “Pay up, Gaz.” The young soldier lets out a groan but always pays his bet debts.

“Phoenix could outrun us all, Gaz, never think otherwise”, no matter how often Ghost sees you running he is always mesmerized by your endurance.

“How can you be so damn fast?”, Soap can’t believe he lost once again. You give him a half shrug with your shoulder, “I imagine Death chasing me and what do we say to Death?”

“Not today”, you whisper smiling. The thought of your teammates brings you pure joy despite the fact you are probably going to drown. The only family you ever had and ever needed. For a second you close your eyes hoping to see more memories.

“So, your callsign is Phoenix. What’s the story behind it?”, Gaz asks you with a bright smile on his lips. Sometimes he reminds you of a little boy in a candy store. You can’t believe how much happiness his happiness can bring you.

“Well…”, you start your not so exciting story, but Soap interrupts you immediately: “Phoenix survived a car crash with a big explosion and came back out of its ashes like a Phoenix. Tada! The callsign was born!”

The silence in the room is deafening before you burst out with laughter, “What the hell, Soap?! No, that’s not what happened!” Everyone except Gaz gets a good laugh from this story. He looks so terribly confused and kind of intimidated at the same time.

“Poor Gaz is probably traumatized for the rest of his life. I like to burn things and someone else already had the fucking callsign Pyro so I had to improvise”, you explain him the situation with a few words. The young soldier rolls his eyes. Still a tiny smile on his lips can be seen.

“Have you any idea how hard it was to get Phoenix and Soap as both demolition freaks on the team? Explosions. Fires. Laswell was not happy at all”, Price recalls his quite one-sided conversation with her. The only thing she said was “NO!” over and over again. Well, she also said “FUCKING HELL FOR SURE NOT!” once. But Captain Price gets what he wants in the end.

A tiny tear rolls down your face, but you can’t feel anything anymore. The cold crept into every single fiber of your body. In the end it doesn’t matter anyway. You are still surrounded by water so what matters a single tear escaping? It’s the only one. Way too tired you can’t share more than that tiny tear with the ocean.

“Are you fucking serious? You could have died!”, you hiss angrily at Ghost as you patch the bullet wound in his side up. The tough soldier keeps quiet letting you work. “It’s like I’m talking to a brick wall without a single thought behind those eyes. Except for sacrificing himself for someone else”, you keep going with your monologue. No one dares to speak like that to him. Except you. It’s always you.

Ghost can’t see how your hands are shaking. How the fear takes over your already worry-ridden mind. How you blame yourself for not being fast enough in the end. You could have prevented this from happening.

But Simon knows you better than you yourself sometimes, “Not for anyone. Only for you, Phoenix. I’m sorry, but please stop worrying. Stop blaming yourself. In the end it was my decision. That’s what we do for each other. Keeping each other safe, right?”

Not answering you put away the first med kit finally done with patching him up. Ghost isn’t the one with the soft side, but with you it is so easy to feel safe for once. You stand up hoping to run from this conversation. His hand stops you dead in your tracks as he grabs your wrist, “Right?”

A slight smile appears on your lips still not turning around to face him, “Of course… but you are still a brick wall.” Simon can’t help himself but smile too behind his mask.

What have you done? If Simon would be here with you, he would hold this whole conversation against you. It’s the same reason that has brought you into the middle of the ocean. You wanted to keep them safe. Your team. Your family.

The helicopter was loaded with explosive meant to kill. Bombs. Soap’s favorite. There was no time to defuse them. You had not a single second to think about it. Just enough time to act on impulse. What a great idea to bring the helicopter down over the ocean far away to hurt someone else. But what about you?

“No, you are not stronger than me, Gaz”, Soap puts down the money for his bet. There is never a dull moment with those clowns. A tiny smile appears on your lips as you nurse your lonely drink in your hand.

“What’s so funny?”, Price notices your rather happy facial expression. “Nothing, just happy to be alive”, you reply simply. The Captain doesn’t need an explanation what you mean exactly. He just knows. You don’t need to elaborate how they give you a feeling of being home. How they are like the family you never had before in your life. They are everything you need to be happy.

But now it is time to let go.

Tired you keep your eyes closed as the cold water pulls you down into its embrace. You are not scared anymore to give up this time. Only gratefulness and happiness are present in your heart and mind. The joy you experienced is more than enough for a whole lifetime.

For the last time you open your eyes to see the darkness around you. It was the only friend you had the last few hours. The tiny waves trying to lull you into a memories-filled sleep. The cold making it easier to let go. You have been tired for so long already. Tiny air bubbles escape and leave you behind.

The darkness lurks beneath you, but above the water surface shines a strange light. Is that the beacon of hope you were looking for the whole time? There are voices too, but you can’t understand what they are yelling. You are sinking further and further. Far away from the light.

Above the lonely water your team is looking for you desperately.

The thought sends a surge of energy through your body. As hard as you can you wave your arms and legs completely uncoordinated. Still the movement brings you closer to the surface. You can’t give up now. Not so close to them.

Your whole body is numb and hurts at the same time terribly. The ocean gives its best to keep you to itself. The cold clouds your mind. Are you paddling into the right direction? Are you going further down?

Then your arm breaks through the surface. But that’s all you had left in you.

Something grabs your hand so tight you almost screamed out loud because of the pain. Your head is still underwater. There is another tightness in your lungs screaming for just a tiny bit of fresh air.

Slowly you get dragged out of the darkness. Leaving the ocean behind. You take a gasping breath. The world outside the water is so overwhelming. The lights blind you for a moment. The loud noises roar in your ears. Pure chaos. For a moment you miss the calming darkness of the ocean.

A slight smile would appear on your lips as you see the faces of your teammates, but that’s too much for now. Gaz and Soap have their hands tightly on your arms, while Price and Ghost try to heave you into the helicopter by your tactical vest. All your gear got extremely heavy soaked with ocean water to the brim. You wish you could help them out, but you reached your limit of energy a long time ago. They lower you to the ground finally freed of the water.

“We got Phoenix. Go, Nik”, Price gives his order to Nicolai. Your favorite Russian pilot. Ghost and Soap try to get rid of your tactical vest together. Gaz stands ready with a blanket to warm you up. They keep talking to you, but you can’t quite follow their words. Your mind still frozen in place.

“Hey, hey. You broken?”, John puts his hand on your ice-cold cheek to get your attention. This time you can manage a weak smile, “Define broken, Captain.” He lets out a deep sigh full of worry but more than happy to hear your voice once again.

“Don’t ever do this again, muppet. You were out there the whole night. We- … We literally thought you were gone. Want to sit up?”, Price grabs your shoulder softly too scared to hurt you after what you went through. Ghost on the other side helps you too to sit up.

The sun starts to rise on the horizon bringing another day to this earth. Another day you are able to see. Another day to be alive.

“You damn lucky bastard. The endurance from your jogging probably saved your ass out there”, Simon can’t believe he gets another chance to see you again. It breaks his heart to see you beaten up and weak like this, but you are alive.

“What do we say to Death?”, Soap asks you grinning like always. “Not today”, you reply enjoying the little inside joke the two of you have.

Price puts his leg behind your back so you can relax yourself against him. Ghost rests his hand on your shoulder letting himself feel grateful to have you back. Soap sits next to you. Shoulder against shoulder. Just like out in the battlefield. Gaz holds one of your hands in his to get them back to normal temperature.

Your little family.

Lonely Water

Let us hold each other

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moonyswife · 1 year ago

Text

I heard a rumor….

from Inez

MASTERLIST

Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

G: Fluff, jealous, irritable and oblivious Remus.

Warnings: NOT proofread, smoking, written late at night from an insomniac writer.

The dark winter sky was the only visible thing from the gryffindor common room, as the cold chased everybody inside, four best friends sprawled across cushions in front of the fireplace , trying desperately to get homework done, at least Remus was, his friends way to gossipy to get anything done, he has had enough of his friends fooling around, it seemed as if the world was ganging up on him, his friends were being annoying, homework was harder than ever, the full moon’s tomorrow, and you were out with some boy, at least that what was heard from some hufflepuff girl called Inez.

Huffing and groaning he got up, “What’s wrong, moons? Don’t you like that your girl may be snogging another boy?” Sirius laughs while mockingly pouting, James laughs, too loudly for Remus’s liking, still gathering his things “What’s wrong, pads? Can’t find anyone who likes you for more than just shagging?” Remus’s venomous tone surprised him even, James didn’t laugh, they just sat in awkward silence, it wasn’t strange for Remus to become more irritable as the full moon was incoming, that was somewhat understandable, they’re friends, they’ll put up with him and his attitude, but something else set him up this time, so they just let him leave.

Good, he needed to take a breather.

As Remus furiously left the common room, his mind was running, between his classes and his overbearing hidden need to overachieve, the way the full moon’s closing in, how his condition will always outrun him, the way his friends one day will get fed up with him, he’s too much anyways, his breath was staggering, he needed air, he needed to get out, but no matter where he’ll go, he knows he’s a liability.

The astronomy tower seemed like the perfect place for him to settle down, he walked in only to find out someone beat him to it, you were there, his heart did a flip and threatened with jumping out his mouth.

as he was about to leave you alone, you looked up, eyes meeting, Remus felt like fainting, all his emotional buildup was still persistent, but butterflies swarmed his stomach, “hi, Rem” “hi, y/n” “what’re you doing up here?” you asked eyes filled with curiosity, “Could ask you the same” he felt comfortable enough to sit down next to you, “I asked you first” fair enough. “Just needed a little bit of air, take a walk, this is the closest that I can get to the outside without freezing” he found himself letting out a long breath, “tough day?” “tough week, tough year, tough life apparently” she laughed, Merlin, her laugh, the ways her face looks when she does, absolutely beautiful, breathtaking.

they sat in comfortable silence, looking at the stars, hands nearly touching but neither of them was brave enough, Remus cleared his throat ready to break the silence “I heard you were going out with a Ravenclaw boy” he couldn’t help sounding bitter, “mmm, really? Who did you hear it from?” hope “Inez, well, Sirius, but he heard it from her in herbology, so it was just a rumor?” “Inez is so noisy, kind, but so annoying sometimes” she kept quiet, Remus didn’t push her to speak, “well, yeah, a ravenclaw boy sent me a note asking me out in charms, I said yes to not embarrass him in front of his friends, but afterwards I told him I couldn’t go out with him” a blush crept into her cheeks as she talked, Remus sweared that every time he looked at her he fell even harder, “why did you tell him you couldn’t?” Remus felt nosier than Inez and his friends, but he needed to know, “well…” she went shy all of a sudden, sigh “well ‘cause I like someone else, like a lot and I felt bad playing with his feelings”

Remus felt like throwing up, she likes another boy, all hopes are dead, as dead as he wishes he was, “you ok?” her sweet voice was music to his ear, “yeah, ‘m fine” “are you sure” “yeah, well, I should go, the guys are probably wondering where I am” bullshit, he needed to scream, to punch someone hopefully the guy she likes, as he was getting up she grabbed his hand, “please stay a little longer” she asked with teary eyes, “love, what’s wrong?” the pet name rolling of his tongue like a promise, “nothing just, I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to talk either, just… sit there, with me” her big eyes following her mouth pleading for him to stay and who was he to say no. He nodded sitting back down, putting his hand in her back, rubbing as she sobbed.

“It’s just, the boy I like” sob “probably doesn’t like me back” she takes a breath “ I like him a lot and he barely pays attention to me, always running out of a room when I enter” she was describing the dumbest guy Remus would ever know, “it’s ok, doll, he’s dumb, you’re the best that there is, a lot of boys are dying to be with you” me, I’m here, I want to be with you, I love you. that’s all he wanted to say, but she’s down and sad, he wouldn’t take advantage, and he doesn’t know why his words make her cry harder, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did wrong” with her head in her hands she mumbled something incoherent, “what?” she gets up suddenly, “sorry, that was dumb, sorry for bothering you, rem, you’re a good guy, sorry again” she ran out so fast Remus could barely hear her last words.

Full of worry he went back to his common room, decided to not do his homework, he’ll blame it in the full moon, and as he laid down in his bed all he could think of was you, and breaking the nose of the guy that made you cry that way.

Laying in your bed the events of today replaying in your head, what else could’ve went wrong?

A nice guy asked you out, that’s great if you weren’t stupidly in love with your friend Remus Lupin, you got shy in front of his friends awaiting for your answer, so you said yes forgetting the fact that rumors travel fast at Hogwarts, especially with the noisy duo on Sirius and Inez.

All your friends went crazy, asking if you were finally over your silly crush, if you were really going out with another boy, wondering when and what’ll happen or what you’ll wear, you tried to tell them that in the end you turned him down, but to no avail, they wouldn’t listen, so like outside was freezing, you figured that the astronomy tower was the safest option of a santuary, before you could cry your eyes out, to add insult to injury, Remus Lupin seemed to think the same thoughts as you.

Everything would’ve been better if you had stuck to your comfortable silence, but nooo, he had to ask questions, how can he be so oblivious, that he was the guy, that you like him, you’ve kept sending him signals since two years ago during third year, and every time you try to stop and get over him, he sends a small signal that maybe, hopefully, he feels the same, some hidden glances, small touches, meaningful smiles, all of this could be part of your friendship, but there’s something about them, just something that gives your heart hope, or maybe you’re delusional.

You ended up falling asleep on you wet pillow with tear stained cheeks.

03:17 AM

y/n woke up, she needed a air, she needed Remus, she needed sleep, she needed a smoke.

She settled for the cigarette solution, but she couldn’t open a window in her room without waking her roommates up. Walking down the stairs of the girls rooms to the common room she saw that a particular sandy haired boy has had again her same thoughts, but alas, this time he beat her to do it.

Blowing the cigarette smoke out the window Remus spotted her, with messy hair, mismatched socks, plaid red pants, a t shirt four times her size that looked like it belonged to a granpa, and looking as beautiful and gorgeous as ever, “hey, are you feeling better?” Rem whispered, scared someone could hear and ruin their peace, “hi, yes, I’m a bit better now, care to share? Just want a bit not the whole thing” ignoring the urge to run away, she decided that enough was enough, so what if he didn’t like her, he’s her friend, she’s not going to throw it out of the window because of her ego. “Yeah, sure,” Remus extended his arm to pass her the cig, hypnotized as she put it between her perfect lips took a drag, inhaled, watching her whole face take it in, eyes closed, eyebrows slightly furrowed, just the perfect sight, he also noticed her puffy red eyes and swollen lips, also the tip of her nose was a bit red, she’s been crying.

Smoking in silence, but compared to before, it was a bit awkward, “the guy, the one you like, who’s he?” She sighed “why do you want to know, Rem?” “To beat them up, I can tell you’ve been crying all night, that’s no good” y/n was getting fed up “are you really that oblivious, Remus Lupin?” wow first and last name, Remus knew she was mad, why? he had no idea, “what? What’s wrong?” she looked at him and god, how can he look so handsome and pretty and cute while being the biggest idiot known to mankind, “what’s wrong is that I can’t tell you the truth, it’s embarrassing” now he was even more confused “what? Wait you can tell me, you know I’ll never judge you” she put out the cigarette and looked at him then took a deep breath, “ well, the guy that I like, he’s my friend and I like him since forever, but since third year I’ve started sending him signals, like the I like you signals, but either he doesn’t like me like that or he’s very oblivious” Remus’s heart broke even more if that’s possible, maybe you liked James or Frank or Sirius that’d make everything worse, as she saw the gears working in his mind, she knew he wouldn’t get it “you know what’s worse” “what, love” the love made her want to tear her neck out, “he’s the smartest person I know, but when it comes to this, he apparently can’t put two an two together”

Remus’s mind was working harder than ever, which one of his friends was smart? “Oh” realization hit him, butterflies swarmed his stomach, was he dreaming, was she talking about him, “oh, indeed, I’m talking about you, Remus, all these years it’s been you”.

Remus Lupin fell to his knees.

“Are you serious, you like me?” “Don’t be mean, Rem, please don’t laugh at me.” “ love, I’m not laughing” he wasn’t but he was smiling like a fool, she was about to cry again, here she was confessing to him, and there he was laughing, “I’ve loved you ever since I saw you on the train, at the start of second year, with your braids and your cat, I love you now and I’ll love you forever” she was frozen, all this time he felt the same, she was grinning like an idiot now, falling in front of him bringing her hands to his cheeks caressing them. “Please, can I kiss you, doll?” “Remus, you can kiss me whenever and wherever you want”, his eyes were full of adoration as he leaned in, her hands on the back of his neck creeping up his hair, his hands sneaked into her waist grabbing firmly, he sat down pulling her into his lap, searching for more closeness.

“We’re idiots” she breathed breaking their kiss, “yeah, but we’re idiots in love” he said making their noses touch, once he had her he couldn’t get enough of her, and couldn’t stop kissing her, not that she complained, she felt like heaven was brought upon her when he kissed her, “I kiss can’t kiss believe kiss that kiss we kiss took kiss this kiss much kiss time kiss” “why don’t we take this to the couch, it’ll be more comfy” she said while kissing his neck, “.or we could go to my dorm, the guys are asleep, we can make out all night” all she had to do was nod to be picked up and brought to Remus’s bed.

James, Peter and especially Sirius had a great time in the morning when they found you in the same bed, by lunch Sirius and Inez had already made sure that all that was talked about was yours and Remus’s relationship and you couldn’t be happier to be finally together.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus fluff #moonyswife

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romerona · 4 days ago

Text

All Y/N ever wanted to do was sing her songs and be free. Yet somehow, after offering to pay for the meal of a certain boy in a straw hat she finds herself causing havoc through the East Blue.

Masterlist - Next.

Trigger warning: canon violence. Word count: 10K

A/N: The only thing I will be describing about Y/N is her hair colour. Everything else you can imagine her as you wish.

Disclaimer: The songs I will be using in this fic aren't mine bc I have 0 creativity. I'm sorry.

If you want to know, what the melody of this chapter song is like, The River by Daisy Jones and the Six is the inspiration.

"Hit the deck!"

Y/N barely had a moment to brace herself before the thunderous explosion erupted across the deck of the Going Merry. The cannonball struck with a force that rattled her bones, the shockwave sending her sprawling as she dropped to the floor, clutching her head. The wood of the railing splintered and cracked under the impact, filling the air with the sharp scent of burning timber and saltwater. Pieces of the ship’s railing exploded outward, shards of wood spinning through the air like deadly projectiles. She flinched as one of the splinters sliced across her cheek, leaving a warm trickle of blood in its wake.

Disoriented, she felt the world tilt and sway as the ship rocked from the blast, and she struggled to get her bearings. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up on trembling legs.

"Everybody okay?" Luffy asked, his voice carrying over the chaos, unshaken by the cannon fire.

"I think so," Nami replied, her breath coming out a bit shaky.

Y/N wiped the blood from her cheek. "Define ‘okay.’ If it means mildly traumatized but still standing, then yeah, I'm peachy."

Usopp, on the other hand, looked like he’d just seen his life flash before his eyes. "No! Not okay! Not even close to okay!"

Luffy barely glanced at him before turning to the Marine ship in the distance, his finger pointing toward the enemy vessel with a gleam in his eye. "Usopp, fire back at them!"

Usopp’s eyes widened in horror, and he shook his head, his voice pitching. "Or, how about we sail away as fast as we can?"

Y/N nodded, jumping on Usopp’s idea immediately, "Now, that sounds like a solid plan. Strategic retreat, y’know? Let’s live to panic another day!"

Luffy looked between them, clearly baffled like they’d just suggested something completely outlandish. "Run from the Marines? No. Never! Nami, trim the… the sail thing."

"Let’s sink their ship," Luffy told Ussop who had made his way next to the straw hat boy, and both started to prepare the cannon.

Y/N's eyes widened, and she shot a desperate glance at Nami. “Are you hearing this insanity? Oh, shi- look at them!”

Nami spared her a look, it was obvious her patience was wearing thin as she glared at Luffy. "We don’t have time. They’re stealing our wind. If they pull up alongside us, we’re finished."

"You’re the navigator," Luffy said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, while he and Usopp continued their preparations. "Do something."

Nami, fighting to keep her composure, took a deep breath. Her eyes flashed to Zoro and then to Y/N, as if by instinct, as she ordained, "Sheet in and hard to port!"

Y/N, groaning in defeat, moved toward the ropes. “Fantastic. Nothing like outrunning doom while trying not to strangle myself with these ropes.”

"Which way is port?" Zoro asked, his brow furrowed in confusion, making Y/N stop in her tracks and give him a look that could melt steel.

She nearly burst into tears right then and there.

“It’s on your left, Zoro!” she exclaimed, grabbing his arm and hauling him toward the ropes. “You do know left from right… don’t you? Is important to me that you know that.”

Zoro didn’t even bother to answer, letting Y/N pull him along as they hurried to execute Nami’s orders. But before they could even begin to unravel the ropes, the unmistakable sound of cannonballs rolling across the deck made them freeze.

For a beat, Y/N just stared at the incoming cannonballs as they tumbled to her feet. Her mind was blank and her gut twisting into knots. Then she pursed her lips, nodding slowly. "We're fucked."

Suddenly, a deep, booming voice of the vice admiral rang out across the open sea, slicing through the chaos like a hot knife through butter.

"Pirate vessel, by order of the Marines, lower your sails and submit to my authority."

Y/N’s body froze at the sound of the vice admiral’s booming voice. It pierced the chaos around her, and for a brief, suffocating moment, everything else disappeared. Her heart skipped a beat as a familiar, overwhelming sense of dread flooded her chest. Her breath caught, shallow and rapid, as memories—unbidden and sharp—began to surface like a nightmare she couldn’t outrun.

Flashes of her childhood flooded her vision: Marines with their cold faces set in determination as they hunted down her people. The cries of her father, the way he had fought to protect her, only to be torn away. Her small hands, gripped her father’s as they fled, knowing too well that escape was never truly an option. She could still feel the harsh net, still hear their voices—shouting commands, laughing as they dragged her father to his death. Her father... she could almost feel the warmth of his hand slipping from hers as he pleaded for her to take her sister and swim away.

A chill ran down her spine, and Y/N’s vision began to blur, the salty air thick in her lungs. The tightness in her chest grew, each breath more difficult to take. Her hands trembled, and she felt like she was back there, trapped in that terrified little girl’s body again, powerless and afraid. Her body was screaming at her to flee, to jump off the ship and swim far away, away from the threat of the Marines. But that was the panic talking. That was the fear, the survivor’s instinct, clawing at her.

No. Don’t be that scared child again. You’re not her anymore.

But the weight of the vice admiral’s words felt suffocating, like a trap closing in around her. The fear was real, deep-rooted, and it pressed against her chest like an iron band. Her mind screamed at her to run, to escape, but her body refused to obey. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or the crushing weight of the past that kept her frozen in place. All she could do was fight the urge to break down, to fall apart right then and there. The panic, the memories—they were all crashing into her at once, and there was nothing she could do to push them away.

Every muscle in her body tensed, her throat constricted, and all she could do was cling to the edge of the ship until the loud shout of Luffy broke her haze.

"Never!" His voice carried across the water with unmatched conviction and defiance.

From the Marine vessel, the vice admiral stepped forward with surprising agility for his age, his steely eyes narrowing as he grabbed one of the heavy cannonballs.

With a grunt that could’ve been heard a mile away, the old marine hurled the cannonball with a surprising amount of strength, sending it rocketing through the air toward the Going Merry. The cannonball cut through the wind, heading straight for them with deadly accuracy. For a moment, Y/N froze, watching the projectile fly toward them, her heart in her throat. This is it, she thought. I'm dead.

But before she could even fully process it, Luffy, with a sudden lurch, made his stomach expand to ridiculous proportions, ballooning out until he looked like he was going to burst. The cannonball collided with his belly with a dull thud, bouncing harmlessly off him before it ricocheted off Luffy’s rubbery body and hurtled back toward the Marine ship. Y/N’s eyes widened as it made its way back to them, and with a sickening crash, it collided directly with one of the mastiffs on the Marine ship, knocking it down with a loud crash.

For a moment, Y/N could only blink, stunned into silence. Then, she exhaled slowly, her breath coming out in a soft whoosh. “How the hell...?”

"That was amazing!" Usopp exclaimed, his face lighting up with awe. "You saved us, Luffy!"

Nami, still catching her breath, gave Luffy an incredulous look. "You didn’t tell me you could do that,"

"I didn’t know I could!" Luffy admitted, right before Usopp lunged at him, wrapping him in a hug laughing and bouncing around in a strange mix of relief and victory.

“Good going, Stud!” Y/N let out an airy chuckle, the sound of it light and almost free as she finally allowed the tension to slip away, watching them celebrate their unlikely victory. She leaned against the railing, her body trembling ever so slightly as she realized how close she’d been to falling apart. The adrenaline was wearing off, and she could feel her legs threaten to give way beneath her. She closed her eyes, pressing her palms against the cool wood, taking a slow, steadying breath, taking in the scent of the sea.

“Nami, get us out of here!” Luffy called to Nami.

“On it. Let’s disappear,” Nami replied, her voice laced with determination as she took control, hands steady on the wheel.

With a swift pull, she guided the Going Merry into position, adjusting the sails to catch what little wind they had left. The ship surged forward, slicing through the waves as if it were as eager to escape as they were and headed into a misty, thick and impenetrable cloud, like a veil hiding them from the Marines.

“Hey,” came Zoro’s monotone voice, causing Y/N to flinch just a little. It was subtle, but she couldn’t hide the sharp jolt in her chest. Embarrassed, she quickly masked her discomfort, forcing a wide, confident smile as if nothing was wrong.

“Oh, Zoro, hey,” she said, her voice smooth but her heart still racing slightly.

Zoro’s eyes remained as indifferent as ever, but they narrowed just a fraction, the skepticism in them barely perceptible.

“You good?” he asked, his tone flat, but there was a hint of concern buried beneath the surface.

Y/N froze for a moment, caught off guard by his directness. She flashed him a playful smirk, hoping to deflect without showing any sign of vulnerability. “Worried about little ol’ me, hot shot? Didn’t think you had a sweet side."

Zoro’s expression didn’t change, but whatever trace of concern had been there moments ago was now gone. Y/N, half-expecting him to leave her be—because, honestly, he wasn’t exactly known for his warm and fuzzy bedside manner—thought her flippant attitude would have been enough to successfully send him packing. Yet, to her surprise (and slight dismay), he stayed. He simply crossed his arms and stared at her with that unreadable intensity.

Y/N’s smirk faltered, the confidence she wore like armor wavering under the weight of his unrelenting stare. There was something unnerving about how much attention he was paying to her but refused to let it show fully. Instead, she waved a hand dismissively, her voice light and playful. “Do not fret, it’s just a scratch. My face will be back to its former glory in no time.”

Zoro didn’t even blink. “That’s not what I’m talking about,”

But Y/N did—several times, rapid and involuntary, her mind faltering as his words struck a nerve she wasn’t ready to face. The tightness in her chest flared again, and she fought to push away the remnants of panic still twisting in her gut. It was relentless, simmering just beneath the surface, refusing to let go. The memories clawed at her mind—the sight of those Marines, the booming voice of authority—it all came rushing back too fast, too vividly, too... loud.

Her smirk faltered, morphing into something softer, a practised smile. She had perfected this act over the years. No one could know. No one could see how much of her was still haunted, how much of her was a cracked foundation barely held together by sheer will.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Zoro,” she said lightly, tilting her head just enough to feign nonchalance. “I’m fine. Really.”

And without waiting for an answer or even a flicker of something that could resemble an expression, she manoeuvred around him. Her smile remained firmly in place, but her pace quickened as she walked away, leaving Zoro standing there. She made her way to Nami, positioning herself beside her as though nothing had happened, knowing the proximity to the pretty navigator would steady her fraying nerves. Like her steady rock.

Soon, the Going Merry was swallowed by the dense mist, the fog thick and impenetrable, wrapping around them like a heavy shroud. The usual brightness of the open sea was replaced by an eerie stillness, the world around them muffled and grey. No one could see more than a few feet in any direction.

"How’s the ship look?" Nami asked, her voice cutting through the silence when she saw the swordsman return from checking the damage.

"Broken railing. Minor damage," Zoro said as she set herself next to her.

Y/N hums in encorgament. "Could've been worse."

"Could’ve been better," Nami muttered, her tone sour.

Usopp squinted into the dense fog, searching for any sign of the Marines. "Can’t see the Marines anywhere,"

Y/N glanced over the side of the ship, also squinting into the dense fog. "Can't see anything at all, I think you mean."

"What we need is a place to lay low and wait out any reinforcements they send after us," Nami said, her voice already tinged with frustration as she glanced down at the map in her hands. "But my charts are useless in this fog."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone dry. "Great. So we’re basically sailing blind."

"What did Luffy say?" Zoro wondered aloud.

Usopp, squinting through the fog, replied, "He’s on the bow. He hasn’t said anything since we hightailed it out of there."

"Well, somebody needs to talk to him. About this and that other thing." Nami’s voice was laced with frustration as she turned to the others, clearly not thrilled with the situation.

"What other thing?" Zoro asked, confusion flickering across his face.

Y/N shot him a look—a mix of disbelief and exasperation, her expression practically screaming "Seriously?" She wondered how could someone be so perceptive and yet be as oblivious as a plank. For a fleeting moment, she even wondered if his cluelessness was some sort of elaborate act.

"Oh, gee, I wonder," Nami replied, her voice thick with dry sarcasm before she deadpanned. "The vice-admiral-of-the-Marines-is-my-grandfather thing."

Y/N pursed her lips, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her—understanding, skepticism, fear, and anger. The fear and anger tried to take root, but ultimately, understanding won out, its shadow softening the rest.

"Oh, that," Usopp said, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Yeah, I don’t really know the guy that well…"

Y/N sighed, crossing her arms as she turned to Nami. "And let’s think that maybe there’s a reason why he didn’t tell us," she said, her voice measured, though the tension behind it was undeniable.

Nami shot her a look, her eyes narrowing in a way that could only mean she wasn’t buying it. "But he should’ve. This is something that affects all of us."

Zoro grunted, rolling his eyes. "Doesn’t seem like a big deal."

"You’re his first mate," Nami shot back, rolling her eyes. "Kind of seems like that falls under your job description, hmm?"

"Fine," he muttered, clearly not thrilled about it.

It took all of five seconds—barely enough time to blink—before he turned right back around and rejoined them. Y/N raised a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. Now this was the Zoro she knew—the one who avoided digging deeper into anything if it required more than minimal effort. The other unsettling attentive version of him she’d dealt with earlier? Long gone.

“He seems fine to me,” Zoro said flatly, as though that was the final word on the matter.

"Did you even ask him?" Nami asks in exasperation.

“Hey!” Luffy suddenly called out, his voice cutting through their conversation and pulling everyone’s attention to him. The group turned to see him standing at the bow, sniffing the air like a bloodhound on a trail. His face was unusually focused, which immediately made Y/N sceptical. “You guys smell that?”

Y/N’s curiosity got the better of her. She hesitated, then took a subtle sniff, her brows knitting together when she couldn’t pick up anything out of the ordinary. “Smell what?

“There’s something on the breeze,” Luffy said, his voice uncharacteristically serious as he sniffed again. “Smells like… butter... Soy sauce... And meat.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, sharing a look with the others, searching for a second opinion. “That’s… oddly specific,”

Usopp, still looking around in confusion, squinted at the air. "I can’t smell anything,"

"Think he has brain damage?" Zoro muttered under his breath, watching Luffy sniff the air like a hound on a scent trail.

Nami sighed heavily, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "I think that every day."

Usopp, ever the voice of reason- or what passed for it to everyone else- said. "Look, Luffy, playing follow the smell is fun and all, but we really gotta get out of this fog. We’re sitting ducks in here."

"I know, but I smell food, which means there’s someone somewhere cooking!" Luffy reasoned, as if that simple fact somehow made perfect sense to him. He was grinning ear-to-ear, oblivious to the crew's growing frustration.

“Seriously?” Nami groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose before throwing her hands up in defeat. “Of course it’s about food.”

Y/N pursed her lips, her gaze shifting between the thick fog and Luffy’s eager, determined expression. She let out a small sigh and turned to Nami with a shrug. “Hey, it’s better than wandering aimlessly, right? At least his nose has a purpose.”

Nami muttered something under her breath about “purposefully leading us into trouble” but threw her hands up as she headed back to the helm. “Fine, whatever- just tell me where to go."

"Five degrees starboard!" Luffy shouted confidently, settling himself on the lamb’s head like it was some kind of throne. He sniffed the air once more, brow furrowing. "No! No! Three degrees back to port."

"Add food to the equation and suddenly he knows how to navigate."

Y/N, who had been bored staring into the mist, suddenly perked up as she caught sight of something faint, something slowly beginning to take shape. She squinted, her curiosity piqued. "What is that?"

“Add food to the equation, and suddenly he knows how to navigate,” Nami muttered under his breath, earning a soft chuckle from Y/N.

Y/N, who had been idly staring into the mist with growing boredom, suddenly straightened as her eyes caught sight of something faint—something slowly taking shape ahead of them. She squinted, her curiosity sparking. “What is that?”

“Is that land?” Zoro asked, his voice tinged with skepticism as he strained to make out the blurry outline in the distance.

Nami frowned, her brow furrowing in concentration. “It can’t be. There aren’t any islands anywhere near here.”

“What’s a… Baratie?” Usopp asked, his voice a mix of confusion and awe as he read the glowing red letters that seemed to hover like a lighthouse through the mist.

The crew fell silent as the shape came into sharper focus, the mist parting just enough to reveal something massive—a grand, almost otherworldly ship. Its design was like nothing they’d ever seen, whimsical and imposing all at once.

“Is that… a fish boat?” Y/N murmured, her eyes widening as she took in the strange structure. It wasn’t just a ship; it was a spectacle.

The ship continued to take shape, now unmistakably resembling a gigantic wooden fish, complete with intricately carved fins and a tail that seemed almost alive in its fluid design. Y/N’s eyes wandered to the collection of ships docked along its sides, their masts swaying gently with the movement of the water. The group stood in stunned silence, the sheer scale and craftsmanship of the structure leaving them momentarily speechless.

As the Going Merry docked alongside the Baratie, the eerie, solitary impression they had from afar melted away, replaced by a vibrant, bustling scene. The docks were alive with movement and sound. Sailors worked with practiced ease, tying ropes and securing their ships. Merchants were unloading crates filled with who-knew-what, their voices rising above the clatter of goods hitting the dock.

The air carried the faint aroma of sizzling food mixed with sea salt, teasing Y/N’s senses as she caught hints of laughter and animated chatter drifting from the fish-shaped structure itself. What once seemed mysterious and isolated now felt impossibly alive, like the heart of some hidden, seafaring world. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe—and a twinge of curiosity—at the liveliness surrounding them.

As the crew gathered on the deck and observed the bustling activity around the fish-shaped ship.

"Everyone's heading to that fish ship," Zoro remarked, curiosity evident in his tone.

Y/N, leaned over the railing, her awe evident as she stared at the grand fish-shaped vessel below. “It’s huge,”

“That smell,” Nami said thoughtfully, a small hum escaping her lips as the aroma of sizzling food reached her. “I think this place is a restaurant.”

"Then I know what we're gonna do next," Luffy declared, his eyes lit up with excitement.

Nami interjected, "Disguise the ship so the Marines can't find us?"

Y/N nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea."

"Sail back to Syrup Village, where it's safe?" Usopp offered, his tone equally hopeful, clutching at the last thread of safety.

But Luffy, grinning from ear to ear, announced, "Nah, let's eat!"

He turned on his heel and made to bolt toward the docks, but Y/N was faster. She grabbed his elbow, stopping him in his tracks. “Luffy, wait. We can't go in-"

Luffy turned to her, his grin faltering into a slight frown, his confusion evident as he leaned closer, their faces almost touching. “What? Why not? It’s right there—all we have to do is walk in.”

“Sure, we can,” Y/N began, her eyes flicking down to his less-than-impressive attire with a small, knowing smirk. “But not dressed like this.”

Luffy blinked, his confusion deepening.

“You’re handsome, stud, and yeah, you’ve got charm." Y/N said, patting his arm playfully, “But trust me, as a former waitress, there are places where you have to look the part. And I can tell this is one of them.”

She gestured toward the lively crowd below, some of whom were dressed a little better than the ragtag crew of the Going Merry. Luffy frowned, glancing down at himself as if only now realizing his outfit wasn’t exactly fine dining material.

“So... we’re dressing up to eat?” he asked, clearly baffled.

“Exactly,” Y/N said, smiling at his adorable cluelessness. “And trust me, it’s gonna be worth it.”

Luffy stared at her for a beat before finally shrugging, his grin returning. “Okay! As long as we get to eat after!”

"That fish better have a bar," Zoro mutters as they all make their way to their room for a scrub and a change.

Y/N slipped into a dress that felt just right for the occasion—simple, but with just enough flair to make it special. The fitted top was decorated with delicate floral embroidery that gave it a soft, romantic feel, while the flowing skirt had an uneven, handkerchief hemline that added a touch of fun. The thin straps made it feel light and easy, perfect for the moment. It was the kind of dress that hugged her in all the right places but still felt comfortable, striking that perfect balance between casual and a little bit sexy.

Y/N smirked as she caught her reflection in the mirror, tilting her head to admire her handiwork. Her white, silver hair was styled into a loose, effortless updo, with a few soft strands artfully framing her face, giving her that perfect mix of elegance and I woke up like this charm. A touch of makeup—just enough to highlight her natural features—brought the whole look together: a faint blush on her cheeks, a sleek wing of eyeliner, and a hint of gloss that made her lips look positively kissable.

“Well, don’t I just look like a walking snack,” she quipped, turning to admire the sway of the dress. “Kaya’s got taste, I’ll give her that. I owe her at least three thank-you calls and a bottle of wine.”

With that, she spun on her heel, ready to turn heads.

“You all deeply disappoint me,” Y/N announced dramatically as she joined the others, her eyes scanning their outfits with a look of sheer disapproval. Their clothes were better than before, sure, but it was painfully obvious that she was the only one who had truly put in any effort. She placed a hand on her hip, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Tragic. All of you,” she added with a flourish, her tone dripping with mock indignation, before muttering under her breath, “I can’t believe I have to carry this entire group's sense of style on my back.”

Luffy and Usopp glanced down at their outfits, their frowns deepening. Luffy was wearing a red shirt and overalls—like he’d just walked off a farm—and Usopp had decided to rock pants, a coat, and, for some unfathomable reason, no shirt. Someone help me, Y/N thought. Zoro, as expected, looked exactly the same as always—zero effort given, zero surprises there. Nami, at least, looked decent. Not great, but decent. Y/N clicked her tongue, shaking her head like a disappointed mother.

Nami noticed her scrutiny and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Oh, please, Y/N. This place is crawling with ugly pirates. We don’t have to look like royalty for them.”

Y/N smirked, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm as she adjusted the strap of her dress. “Sure, Nami, because when I think of my life goals, ‘blending in with ugly pirates’ is right at the top of the list.” She gave the group a once-over, then added with a mock sigh, “Listen, just because the bar is on the floor doesn’t mean I have to trip over it. Standards, darlings. Standards.”

"Can we just go now?" Zoro said to which Luffy nods excitedly.

She let out an exaggerated sigh, smoothing her hand over her dress like she was trying to gather the patience to deal with them. Finally, she gave the group a look of mock exasperation, her tone dripping with playful judgment.

“Alright, come on, let’s get this over with before I change my mind and pretend I don’t know any of you.” She started walking ahead, throwing a cheeky glance over her shoulder. "Be good, you’re all one embarrassing moment away from being disowned."

As they strolled through the bustling docks, Y/N walked with her head held high and a confident grin tugging at her lips. She could feel the stares following her, lingering longer than usual. Did it feel good to be admired? Absolutely—it always did. But she wasn’t naive; she knew exactly why they were staring. Her appearance, her aura, her very presence practically demanded attention. That’s one of her traits as a siren, after all.

Still, the attention was something she chose to brush off… mostly. Every so often, her smirk widened just a fraction, a subtle acknowledgement that yes, she knew she was turning heads, and yes, she was enjoying it more than she’d ever admit.

“Wow, people do stare at you,” Usopp muttered, his wide eyes darting around the dock as merchants and pirates. His tone was half amazement, half bewilderment.

Y/N’s grin widened, a mischievous glint in her eye as she smoothly linked her arm with his.

“Why, yes, they do,” she replied with a playful lilt. “Care to be my arm candy for the evening, champ? Strictly for appearances, of course.”

Usopp’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and he let out a nervous chuckle.

“I… uh… okay,” he stammered, trying to muster a confident smile.

Y/N leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Relax, Usopp. Just think of it as adding another daring tale to your collection.”

He straightened up a bit, a spark of pride flickering in his eyes.

“Yeah, I can do that,” he said, more to himself than to her.

As they continued down the dock, Y/N couldn’t help but smirk.

“Besides,” she added with a playful wink, “who wouldn’t want to be seen with the most dashing slinger here?”

Usopp smirked, his chest puffing out as her confidence seemed to spark something in him. With his newfound swagger, he added an exaggerated strut to his step. He looked as though he’d just been crowned king of the dock.

Y/N chuckled and glanced back at Nami, who was trailing behind with Luffy, who was looking at everyone and everything all at once and Zoro, who looked like he rather be anywhere else. The orange-haired girl rolled her eyes, but there was a trace of amusement on her face that betrayed her usual exasperation. Y/N shot her a playful grin.

“Want to be my other arm candy?” Y/N teased, holding out her free arm with an exaggerated flourish. Her grin was as charming as it was mischievous. “I promise, you’ll steal just as many stares as me.”

“Pass,” she said, though the playful tone in her voice made it clear she was more amused than annoyed. “I think you’ve got enough attention for all of us,”

Y/N chuckled, turning back with a shrug. “Suit yourself, but you’re missing out on being part of the most glamorous trio this dock has ever—and will ever—see.”

She barely finished her sentence when a voice cut through the noise of the docks, calling her name.

“Y/N?”

Her entire body froze, the familiar voice making her breath catch in her throat. She snapped her head toward the source, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Tallen?” she whispered, barely able to get the word out.

Standing a few feet away was a man with a face she’d never forgotten—dimples carved into his handsome smile, a warmth in his eyes that brought a rush of memories crashing down on her. The sight of him stole her breath.

“Oh, the stars, it’s you!” she exclaimed, a wide, joyous smile breaking across her face as she let go of Usopp without a second thought. Before anyone could react, she all but ran into the man’s arms, colliding with him like a wave meeting the shore. He wrapped her in a hug so firm and familiar it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“Sweet Y/N,” Tallen murmured, his voice soft and steady, the way she remembered.

“It’s been too long,” she whispered, holding him tighter, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Far too long,” he agreed, his arms squeezing her just a bit more.

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, leaning into the hug as if letting go would break her.

“I’m glad to see you alive,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m glad to see you alive,” Tallen replied softly, his words carrying the weight of shared history and loss. He was her fellow Siren—one of the last few, the dwindling remnants of their kind.

They lingered for a moment longer, their arms reluctantly falling away as they both seemed hesitant to break the connection. The warmth of the embrace lingered, but reality began to creep back in.

That’s when it happened—a deliberate clearing of a throat. Nami.

Y/N blinked, suddenly aware of her surroundings again. She turned to see Nami standing there with an arched brow, arms crossed, and a look that was equal parts curiosity and amusement. Behind her, Usopp was gaping like he’d just witnessed the twist ending of a great story, and Zoro, as usual, looked unimpressed but faintly intrigued and Luffy who had a trademark smile on his face yet curious.

“Oh,” Y/N said, laughing awkwardly as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Right. Uh… introductions.” She glanced at Tallen and back to them. “Everyone, this is Tallen. He’s…” Her voice trailed off for a moment, her smile faltering slightly before she finished, “He’s an old friend.”

Tallen, ever the charmer, gave a polite nod to the group, his dimples deepening as he grinned. “Pleasure to meet you all.“

Before anyone had a chance to properly introduce themselves, Y/N cut in, her tone light but firm.

“I’ll meet you lot inside, okay?” she said, flashing them a quick smile.

Luffy looked between them, and after a second, he nodded grinning. “Okay, I’ll save you a seat.”

Usopp muttered something about not wanting to be left behind and followed after Luffy. Nami lingered for a moment, giving Y/N a long look before sighing and heading toward the entrance.

Zoro, as usual, barely reacted, simply grunting, “Don’t take too long,” before following the others.

“Noted,” Y/N replied with a grin, already turning back to Tallen.

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at Tallen, a flood of emotions washing over her. The last time she’d seen him was about three or four years ago, and while he still looked very much the same, there was a new air of maturity about him—just enough to make her realize how much time had passed.

“It’s really you,” Y/N murmured, her voice tinged with disbelief and relief, as though she still wasn’t entirely convinced this moment was real.

“In the flesh,” Tallen replied with a nod, his own expression softening. He gave her a once-over, his lips curving into a teasing smile. “You look older.”

Y/N let out a huff of laughter, lightly pushing him on the shoulder. “And you still have the subtlety of a cannonball.”

Her playful smile faltered slightly as her eyes searched his face, her voice quiet but hopeful. “What about the others? Lyan, Kiku, Ren? Are they still—”

“Yes,” Tallen interrupted gently, his tone steady and reassuring. “They’re here with me.”

Y/N let out a deep sigh of relief, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “Where?”

“Probably asleep in the room on our ship,” Tallen explained, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. “We had a late-night performance last night.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across her face. “You got a ship?”

“A small one,” he said, trying (and failing) to hide just how proud he was. “But yes, we did.”

Without hesitation, Y/N threw her arms around him again, pulling him into a warm embrace.

“I’m so happy for you—for all of you,” she whispered, her voice thick with genuine emotion.

Tallen’s smile widened as he held her, and for a moment, they simply existed in the comfort of the reunion.

Lyan, Kiku, and Ren—like Y/N and Tallen—were Sirens. They were the lucky few who had escaped the hands of those who sought to harm or exploit them. Together, they had formed their own little family, bound by survival and shared pain. They’d taught Y/N so much in the time they travelled together, how to survive in a world that wanted them gone.

And like true Sirens, they dedicated themselves to their art—music, song, and performance—using their gifts to dazzle. She could still hear their songs in her memory—hauntingly beautiful, filled with life and defiance. They’d always been on the move, hopping from island to island, hitching rides with mercenaries or, when times were desperate, even pirates. And yes, while swimming is a faster option, the risk is bigger. Staying in one place too long was a death sentence; that was the first lesson Y/N had learned from them. And now, the thought that they had their own ship, a small but significant freedom, made her heart swell with pride.

“You’ve come so far,” Y/N said softly, pulling back slightly to look at Tallen. “You all have.”

“And so have you,” Tallen replied, his tone warm and genuine. “I’m glad we found you again. Tell me, who are those people you’re here with?”

“They’re… uh, friends,” Y/N replied, her tone unsure as she glanced over her shoulder toward the Going Merry. She hesitated, catching the way Tallen was giving her a pointed, knowing look. Finally, she sighed and added, “It’s complicated—and a long story.”

“Well,” Tallen said with a grin, leaning back slightly, “good thing we’re leaving tomorrow morning. That gives us all night to catch up."

"Okay," Y/N nods.

“Good,” Tallen said with satisfaction, taking a step back. “See you later at the bar, okay?”

“See you there,” Y/N replied, watching him as he walked away, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

Finally, Y/N stepped inside the ship, and her breath hitched at the sight before her. The Baratie was nothing short of magnificent, a unique blend of maritime charm and upscale elegance.

However, before Y/N could truly take in the grandeur of the Baratie's interior, her gaze locked onto the host near the entrance. Her back stiffened instinctively, and though she kept her composure, the small, well-concealed gills along her neck fluttered. They only did that when another sea creature was nearby.

He was a Fish-man.

For a moment, their eyes locked, and the air between them seemed to hum with a quiet, unspoken tension. He knew. Of course, he knew. The thing about Sirens—unique among sea creatures—was that no matter how perfectly they blended in with humans, their presence sang to others of the sea. It wasn’t something tangible, but like a melody carried on a current, it was impossible to ignore for those born of the ocean.

It wasn’t just recognition. It was history, unspoken and heavy, carried in their shared gaze. Sirens and other sea folk—whether Fish-men or Merfolk—had always harbored a quiet animosity toward one another. Sirens had something the others didn’t: choice. Sirens had a freedom that others of the sea could only dream of: the ability to seamlessly blend in with humans, to walk on land or dive into the ocean at will, and to choose when to wear a tail and when to shed it. It was a luxury that set them apart—and not always in a good way. Resentment had festered for centuries, compounded by the Sirens’ refusal to bend the knee to King Neptune’s rule.

They were a secretive, lone species.

Yet, in the aftermath of the near-massacre of her kin, these old grudges had softened, replaced by mutual, unspoken support among the remnants of the sea's diverse inhabitants.

The host's polite smile never wavered as he addressed her. "Is there anything I can help you with, madam?"

Y/N took a steadying breath, reminding herself of the fragile peace that now existed and the necessity of keeping her composure.

“My friends,” she began, her tone calm but deliberate, “they came in here just now. Uh—one of them had a straw hat—”

“Ah, yes,” the host interrupted smoothly, a faint trace of mockery curling the edges of his voice. “The ‘future king’ of the pirates.” His words dripped with wry amusement as he turned, gesturing toward a table at which her friends were currently occupying. “It’ll be right there, madam.”

Y/N sent him a polite smile, the corners of her lips curving just enough to convey gratitude. But her eyes held a subtle, knowing look—a quiet reminder of who and what she was.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice steady and composed, before making her way towards her friends

Y/N let out a quiet huff as she descended the stairs, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished wooden floor. Internally, she was fuming. Tallen, she thought with a simmering annoyance. After this meal, I’m slapping his dimples clean off for not mentioning the Fish-Men.

But in her mild frustration and distraction, she didn’t notice the waiter stepping out from the side with a tray balanced on one hand.

They collided.

The sudden impact caused her to stumble slightly, and she instinctively reached out to steady herself, her hand brushing against the waiter's arm. A soft clatter followed as a single glass wobbled on the tray, but before it could fall, the waiter caught it effortlessly, his reflexes as smooth as silk.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” Y/N blurted, her voice a mix of embarrassment and genuine apology, a faint flush dusting her cheeks.

"No need to apologize, mademoiselle," he said smoothly, turning to face her with a charming smile that she was sure he thought could probably disarm a shipful of pirates, "If anything, I should thank the heavens for allowing me to cross paths with such a captivating beauty."

Y/N blinked at him, caught momentarily off guard by his line, but only for a heartbeat. Oh, he's one of those. Her lips curved into a sly, confident smile as she straightened her dress, effortlessly slipping into her usual charm.

"Is that so?" she teased, tilting her head ever so slightly. "Well, if fate's handing out meetings, perhaps it's my lucky day to encounter a waiter with such impeccable reflexes and a silver tongue to match."

The waiter's eyes widened for a brief moment, her words catching him off guard, but his signature charm quickly returned. He straightened his posture, one hand adjusting his tie as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Ah, mademoiselle, you honor me,” he said smoothly, his voice rich and velvety. “But let me assure you, my reflexes pale in comparison to the elegance of your words. It seems fate isn’t just kind—it’s downright generous today.”

His gaze softened as he leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “And if this is your lucky day, then I’d consider it mine too. After all, it’s not every day I get to save a stunning woman from the perils of a wobbling glass.”

“Smooth,” she said and leaned in slightly, her expression mischievous, her voice dropping to a low, playful lilt. “But tell me, loverboy, is that line part of the menu, or is it just a special off-the-cuff dish you whip up for unsuspecting women?”

Sanji blinked, the faintest hint of pink dusting his cheeks, but he quickly tried to recover, clearing his throat. “I-"

Her eyes sparkled as she continued, barely giving him a chance to recover.

“Because if it’s the latter, I must say, it’s quite the treat. Though…” her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made his breath hitch. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a soft, almost conspiratorial tone. “I can’t help but wonder if you’ve got something even better in your repertoire.”

Sanji blinked, momentarily at a loss, his cheeks dusted with a soft pink hue as he struggled to regain his composure. He adjusted his tie again, swallowing hard, his usual suave demeanor slipping under the weight of her effortless teasing.

“M-mademoiselle,” he stammered, his voice still coated with charm, though now tinged with genuine fluster. “I assure you, my repertoire has no limits, and I’d be honored to… to serve you something truly unforgettable.”

Y/N took a step closer, her eyes never leaving his.

"You know," she said softly, reaching up to straighten his slightly askew tie, "flattery will get you everywhere." Her fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary, her touch light and teasing.

The waiter's breath hitched, his composure slipping as a deep flush spread across his cheeks. "I-I... um..."

Y/N leaned in, faces ever so closely, she whispered, "But only if you can keep up." With that, she pulled back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have friends waiting."

She turned on her heel and sauntered away, leaving the flustered waiter staring after her, his heart pounding in his chest. She couldn't help but chuckle to herself. Too easy.

Y/N made her way over to her friends, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She paused when she reached the table, her eyes scanning the group briefly before landing on Zoro, who was comfortably perched at the edge of the bench.

“Zoro,” she said, her tone light but teasing, “please stand up so I can sit next to Nami.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow at her, clearly unimpressed. “What’s wrong with sitting on the other side?”

Y/N tilted her head, her expression turning mock-serious as she placed a hand on her hip. “Because I prefer not to be in the splash zone when Luffy starts eating. You know how he gets.”

Zoro grumbled under his breath, muttering something about "drama queens," but he stood up anyway, shifting to another spot and letting Y/N slide gracefully into the seat next to Nami without a fuss.

She turned to him with a triumphant smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Thank you, my love. Your cooperation is, as always, greatly appreciated.”

"Yeah, yeah," Zoro muttered, settling into his new seat.

Nami chuckled softly beside Y/N. "Always know how to get your way, don't you?"

Y/N winked. "It's a gift, really."

The waiter approached their table with practiced ease, balancing a tray of beverages for the group. One by one, he placed the drinks in front of the others, his movements smooth and deliberate. Just as Y/N was about to ask for hers, he surprised her by setting a bottle of wine on the table in front of her with a small flourish.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued as she glanced up at him. His smirk was confident, almost playful, as he leaned slightly closer.

“A fine wine for a finer ladies,” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with charm.

The corner of Y/N’s lips curled into a sly smile as she leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing casually.

“Flattering,” she replied, tilting her head. “But I don’t remember ordering this."

Y/N turned to Nami faking curiosity, "Did you, pumpkin?"

"No, just water," Nami said as she picked up the glass of water.

"I see," Y/N turns to the waiter and tilts her head. "Does it come with the compliments of the establishment or the waiter?”

“Consider it a personal recommendation,” he said, straightening slightly, though there was now a faint hint of nervousness behind his confident demeanor. With practiced precision, he poured a bit of the wine into her glass, the rich liquid swirling smoothly as it settled.

“The food will be out shortly. Enjoy,” he added, flashing one last ever-so-charming smile before gracefully excusing himself.

Y/N watched him go with an amused smirk before raising her glass. “Well, salud,” she said, the word rolling off her tongue effortlessly as she took a sip. She paused for a moment, savoring the taste, then gave a small nod of approval.

“Not bad,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling as she placed the glass back on the table. “But then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less after that performance.”

Nami rolled her eyes. “He’s got some nerve, doesn’t he?”

Y/N chuckled. “Oh, he’s got more than nerve—he’s got good taste in wine, at least.”

“So, who was your friend you were talking to?” Luffy asked, his voice muffled as he shoved another bread bun into his mouth without a care for table manners.

Usopp grinned, leaning forward with his eyebrows wiggling teasingly. “A boyfriend?”

“Gods, no,” Y/N said with a laugh, shaking her head as she took another sip of her wine. “Like I said, just an old friend. One I didn’t think I’d ever see again.”

“Why?” Nami chimed in, her tone laced with curiosity.

Y/N paused for a moment, swirling the wine in her glass as she felt their collective gazes on her. She glanced around the table, noting how everyone seemed genuinely interested—except Zoro, of course, who only looked vaguely curious in that nonchalant way of his.

“Well,” she began, her voice casual but carrying a note of fondness, “me and a few others used to travel together, performing and stuff, y’know.” She gestured vaguely with her free hand, her eyes flicking between them. “We were kind of like a troupe—dancers, musicians, storytellers. We’d go from town to town, putting on shows for whoever would watch.”

“Oh, were they your crew—” Luffy started, crumbs still falling from his mouth.

“No,” Y/N interrupted softly, her tone firmer this time, her gaze dropping to the glass in her hand. “They’re no crew. They’re family.”

She fidgeted slightly in her seat, swirling the wine in her glass before taking another sip as if it might steady her thoughts.

“They’re like an uh—” she began, then shook her head with a quiet laugh, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Like a shoal of fish or a covey of birds. Travelling from island to island letting the ocean take them as it wishes. Never staying in one spot long enough to leave footprints.”

“Why didn’t you stay with them?” Of course, it was Zoro who asked, his tone direct, his eyes focused on her like he was cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

Y/N looked up at him, her lips parting slightly as if to answer, but then her gaze shifted to Nami, who was watching her just as intently, curiosity swimming in her eyes. Her fingers tightened slightly around the stem of her glass, and for a moment, the table felt far too quiet, far too heavy.

But as if the universe took pity on her, the food arrived at just the right moment, breaking the tension. Plates upon plates were placed on the table, filling the air with rich, mouthwatering aromas. Y/N let out a silent breath of relief, leaning back slightly as the waiter set down her dish.

She picked up her fork, her expression brightening ever so slightly as she joined in the excitement of the food.

“Finally, something to stop Luffy from eating the table itself,” she teased lightly, earning a laugh from Usopp and a grin from Nami.

The question lingered in the air, unspoken but not forgotten. But Y/N knew she wouldn’t let it resurface. The answer was too close, too raw. The past had no business here, at this table, at this moment. Not when she’d worked so hard to leave it behind.

The food was nothing short of spectacular, each bite bursting with flavor that left Y/N savoring every moment. It didn’t take long for the plates to clear—unsurprising, given Luffy and Usopp’s ravenous appetites. She barely had a chance to blink before half the dishes had vanished under their relentless enthusiasm.

Still, Y/N took her time, indulging in the meal like royalty. She filled herself to the brim, relishing every delicious bite until she leaned back in her chair, her stomach pleasantly full and her breaths coming slower. She could hardly move, but it was worth it. Every bite was a little slice of heaven, and she wasn’t about to let a single morsel go to waste.

As she leaned back in her chair, a hand resting on her overly full stomach, she let out a soft groan of satisfaction. “If I die tonight, tell the world it was the Baratie that did me in,”

I can’t eat another bite," Usopp moaned dramatically, staring longingly at the piece of cheese on his fork. "But it’s so good."

"Oh man, you said it," Zoro muttered, popping the cap off yet another beer like he was just getting started.

Nami sighed, leaning back in her chair with a hand on her stomach. "I’m not gonna be hungry for a week."

And then, of course, there was Luffy—completely unaffected. Still chewing on a massive steak, he looked up and, with the kind of unshakable enthusiasm only he could manage, asked, "Should we order dessert?"

"Yes," Y/N grunted, her voice muffled as she leaned back, trying to make room in her overstuffed stomach. She might have been at capacity, but her notorious sweet tooth wasn’t about to let her skip dessert. Priorities, she thought.

"I already got mine," Zoro said, lifting his beer meaningfully as if it was the only dessert he needed.

Luffy’s eyes lit up like fireworks, his hands clapping against the table as he finally set his steak down. "Mmm, that reminds me! We should make a toast. Come on, grab your glasses."

Y/N turned her head to look at Luffy, her expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement as she watched him grab his glass of milk. She sighed, unable to suppress a small smirk, and reached for her wine glass, holding it up lazily.

“To the best crew sailing on the sea and to our victory!” Luffy cheered, his grin stretching wide as he clinked his glass enthusiastically with Usopp’s.

“Yeah!” Usopp echoed, raising his mug like they’d just conquered the world.

Y/N, however, pursed her lips, quietly letting her glass go down. The memory of being so dangerously close to recapture by the Marines clung to her like a shadow, one she wasn’t ready to toast to. Victory wasn’t exactly how she’d describe that ordeal.

“No, I’m sorry,” Nami’s voice cut sharply through the celebration, her expression firm as she turned to Luffy. Her eyes narrowed. “What victory exactly?”

“Against the Marines,” Luffy said with unabashed excitement, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Our very first battle, and we crushed them!”

Nami shook her head, her frustration barely masked. “I don’t know how many naval battles you guys have been part of…”

“Two dozen, at least,” Usopp mumbled behind his beer.

“But that was a disaster,” Nami continued, her tone rising as her exasperation grew. “We were unprepared, uncoordinated. By all rights, we should be at the bottom of the sea right now.”

“We’re not, though. Luffy saved us,” Usopp chimed in, as if that single fact could erase the chaos of it all.

Y/N let out a slow, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt the tension brewing. She could already see where this conversation was heading.

"Are we really going to ignore the elephant in the room right now?" Nami deadpanned, her voice sharp enough to cut through the remaining chatter at the table.

"Nami, please..." Y/N said softly, trying to settle her down, though she already knew it was a losing battle.

"No, Y/N." Nami turned to her, her tone edged with irritation, then immediately shifted her focus to Luffy. "He didn’t think to mention that his grandfather was a Marine. And not just any Marine, a vice-admiral! I don’t know about you, but I didn’t sign up for that."

"You raided a Marine base," Zoro interjected, as if that explained everything. "Of course that’ll make you a target."

Nami swung her gaze to him, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. "If I’d stolen the map, no one would’ve even known I was there. As opposed to wrecking a base commander’s office."

Before the tension could thicken, Sanji—the waiter, as Y/N now knew him—appeared at the table with his usual calm and charm. "Your bill, sir,"

“Ah,” Luffy replied with his trademark carefree smile which took a moment to appear. He took the bill, scribbled something on it without a second thought, and handed it back. “Thank you, my good man.”

Y/N’s frown deepened as she sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing on the exchange. Her mind shot back to Shell’s Town, to when Luffy ate at Food Foo. She had a bad feeling about this.

"Luffy..." Y/N said cautiously, her voice slower now, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

Sanji glanced at the bill, and a peculiar smile spread across his face—a smile that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine.

"No, sir. Thank you," Sanji said smoothly, his tone almost... too pleasant.

Oh, gods. As a former waitress, she recognized that smile. That was the you’re-about-to-regret-this smile. She glanced around at her friends to see if anyone else had caught on. Was she seriously the only one who understood what was about to happen?

She tried again, her voice firmer this time. "Luffy—"

But Luffy, ever oblivious, kept going, raising his voice slightly in what he probably thought was an inspirational tone. "I’m not saying it’s good that the Marines are on our tail, but we showed them they can’t just roll over us!"

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose as her suspicions grew. Luffy, please, stop talking.

"This crew, our crew, can handle anything!" Luffy declared with a triumphant grin.

And as if fate itself couldn’t resist the opportunity for drama, a booming voice cut through the restaurant, rattling the walls and silencing the entire room.

"WHO THE HELL IS MONKEY D. LUFFY?"

Y/N groaned, her head falling into her hands. "Here we go." She looked up just in time to see Luffy look back at the head chef and raise his hand.

"Here!" Luffy called out, completely unfazed.

Y/N slumped back into her seat, muttering under her breath. "Oh, stars,"

Zeff's scowl deepened as he strode over, the crowd parting in his wake.

"You seem to be confused about the rules of the house, but Baratie doesn’t offer credit," He stopped beside their table, towering over them, glaring at Luffy, who was calmly drinking his milk. "You eat, you pay."

Luffy looked up, unfazed. "I think you’re confused."

Y/N groaned, hiding her face in her hands as she anticipated Luffy's explanation.

"The meal has already been paid for. I just haven’t given you the money yet," Luffy continued confidently.

Zeff's eyebrow twitched. "Yeah, and how’s that?"

"You can add it to my treasure tab," Luffy said with a grin.

"And what, pray tell, is that?" Zeff asked, his tone flat.

"I may not look like a big deal yet, but you’re talking with the future King of the Pirates," Luffy declared, as if that would make it all go better. "And as soon as I find the One Piece, I’m gonna come back, pay this bill in full, and with interest."

The chef let out a low chuckle. “I’ve got a better idea.”

And just like that, Luffy was unceremoniously hauled off toward the kitchens.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, exhaling a long breath of resignation as her gaze drifted off into nothingness. She made no effort to intervene—it wasn’t worth it.

“I need a drink,” Nami muttered, rubbing her temple.

“Yeah, something stronger would be nice,” Y/N sighed, her tone weary.

The four made their way to the bar located in the mouth of the fish, settling into a quiet corner. Zoro was already on his third beer, Nami and Usopp on their first, while Y/N was still trying to decide what to order. Her deliberation was interrupted when a bartender approached and set a large cocktail down in front of her.

Y/N blinked, looking up at the bartender with confusion. “Uh... sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, he bought it for you,” the bartender cut in, nodding toward an older man perched at the bar. The man raised his glass and winked at her with a grin that sent a chill down her spine.

“Oh, goodie,” Y/N muttered under her breath, though she still managed to force a polite smile in the man’s direction. She turned back to the bartender quickly. “You can take it back. I—”

Before she could finish, Usopp reached over, snatching the drink with a grin. “No, I’ll take it!” he said cheerfully, taking a big sip. His face lit up almost immediately.

“Oh, this is good!” he said, waving enthusiastically at the older man. “THANK YOU!”

Y/N stared at him, half-exasperated, half-amused, as she sighed and leaned back in her chair. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

Nami leaned back in her chair. “You’ve got some admirers, Y/N.”

“Admirers I don’t want,” Y/N shot back, glaring playfully at Usopp as he continued to sip the drink. “Thanks for taking one for the team, Usopp.”

“Hey, waste not, want not.” He took another big sip, completely unbothered, while Nami rolled her eyes and Zoro chuckled into his beer.

"Speaking of waste not," Y/N said with a sly smirk, reaching over to grab Usopp's barely-touched beer. "I’ll take that off your hands, champ."

Usopp, completely absorbed in savouring the oversized cocktail, simply hummed in agreement, nodding absentmindedly as he took another enthusiastic sip.

“Thanks, generous as always,” Y/N chuckled, raising the glass to her lips, watching as Usopp continued to obliviously inhale the cocktail, none the wiser.

That was until Zoro, in an uncharacteristic act of charity, warned the boy, “Pace yourself.”

Usopp paused mid-sip, looking down at the drink with a skeptical expression. “I don’t even think there’s liquor in this. It tastes just like candy.”

Y/N tilted her head thoughtfully, a teasing hum escaping her lips. “Wouldn’t be so sure,”

Zoro took a swig of his beer and added dryly, “Yeah, last time I said that, I woke up face down under a table.”

Y/N burst out laughing, her grin wide and teasing. "Oh, I would’ve paid good berry to see that."

“Yeah, I bet you would’ve,” Zoro scoffed, his gaze shifting to Nami, who was staring intently at her glass, lost in thought. He raised an eyebrow before looking away. “That glass have gold on the bottom or what?"

Nami blinked, snapping out of her trance. “Hmm?”

“You haven’t stopped staring at it,” Zoro pointed out, his tone blunt as usual.

Nami sighed, clearly debating something, before finally caving and looking between Zoro and Y/N. “You seriously don’t think what Luffy did is messed up?”

Y/N’s teasing grin faded as she glanced down at her own drink. She could understand where Nami was coming from. Truly, she did. But who was she to demand someone to share their secrets? To dig up secrets or memories that Luffy clearly wanted to leave buried? That wasn’t her place.

“Yeah, he should’ve told us,” Zoro admitted, his tone calm and matter-of-fact. He leaned back in his chair before adding, “But in case you didn’t notice, we’ve been making enemies everywhere we go. Psycho clowns, killer butlers… what’s a vice-admiral gonna do to us that’s any worse?”

Y/N lifted her glass, her voice quieter but steady. “And who are we to demand something like that out of him? I’m sure he has his reasons for keeping it to himself.”

Nami shook her head, her frustration barely contained. “No, you don’t get it. I can’t get caught. Not when I’m so close…”

Her words trailed off abruptly as if she realized she had said too much. Her lips pressed together tightly, and Y/N made no effort to pry. She wouldn’t judge—she understood the weight of secrets all too well.

After a tense moment, Nami placed her beer down and forced a casual look. “Uh, who’s ready for another drink? My treat.”

Zoro grunted in approval, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “My favorite kind of drink.”

Y/N nodded with a smile, “Can’t say no to that.”

With that, Nami swiftly stood up and headed to the bar, leaving the trio behind at the table. The moment she was out of earshot, Usopp leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a whisper as he said, “She’s hiding something.”

Y/N chuckled softly, tipping back the last of her beer. She set the empty glass down with a gentle clink and met Usopp’s wide-eyed gaze with a knowing look.

“Aren’t we all?” she replied, her tone light but laced with truth.

Zoro glanced at her but said nothing, his expression unreadable as he took another sip of his beer.

Suddenly, Y/N felt two strong hands grab her from behind, lifting her right out of her chair with a jolt. Her heart nearly skipped a beat, but the instinct to panic vanished as soon as she recognized the culprit. Only one person would do something so ridiculous.

“But look at you!!” Ren exclaimed, his voice booming with excitement as he hugged her tightly and started walking away from the table, carrying her like a sack of potatoes.

Y/N groaned but couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her.

“Ren, put me down!” she demanded, half-laughing, half-protesting.

When he finally set her down, Y/N turned and froze, her eyes lighting up as she saw Tallen, Lyan, and Kiku standing nearby, all grinning from ear to ear.

For a moment, she just stared at them, taking it all in—the familiar faces, the warmth in their smiles, the wave of nostalgia and relief that washed over her. Then, without hesitation, she let out a shriek of pure joy and jumped forward, wrapping them in a tight hug.

“Oh gods, I can’t believe this!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking slightly from the overwhelming emotion. Hugging them again felt like coming home, like a missing piece of herself had been returned. The weight of everything she’d been carrying seemed to lift, if only for a moment.

They laughed as they hugged her back, each one holding her tightly as if to make up for lost time. Tallen stood to the side, his arms crossed and a big grin plastered across his face as he watched the reunion.

“I told you she’d be here,” Tallen said smugly, glancing at the others.

Y/N pulled back slightly, her hands still on Kiku's and Lyan’s shoulders, her smile wide and genuine. “Gods, I miss you all."

“We missed you more!” Ren grinned, squeezing her back tightly.

Kiku laughed softly, her voice warm. “We thought we’d never see you again.”

Lyan, ever the quiet one, simply smiled, his eyes crinkling with the emotion he didn’t need to say out loud.

"Tallen told us you’ll be playing with us tonight…" Kiku said, her voice lilting with both curiosity and excitement as she looked at Y/N with a hopeful smile.

Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before arching an eyebrow at Tallen, who was standing nearby, grinning like he’d just pulled off the biggest scheme of the century.

“Did he now?” Y/N asked, her tone teasing as she folded her arms, giving Tallen a mock glare. "Funny, because Tallen didn’t ask me about that.”

Tallen chuckled, holding up his hands defensively. “Come on, Y/N, it’s just like old times! One night, one set—think of it as a reunion gig.”

“A reunion gig?” Y/N repeated, raising both eyebrows now. “You mean the kind where you spring it on me last second and I have no time to prepare?”

“Oh, please,” Ren chimed in, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “You could do this in your sleep. You’re Y/N—you’re never not ready.”

She sighed, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile as she crossed her arms. “You guys really don’t give me a choice, do you?”

“Not even a little,” Lyan chimed in with a laugh, nudging her playfully. “Come on, Y/N. It’ll be just like old times.”

Kiku clasped her hands together, her smile widening. “We’ve missed this, and we’ve missed you.”

Y/N sighed, looking around at their expectant faces, her faux-annoyance melting into a small smile.

“You all are impossible, you know that?” she said, shaking her head. “Fine. But only because I am amazing and don’t need prep time.”

The group burst into cheers, Kiku clapping her hands in delight. “I knew you wouldn’t say no!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said, waving them off but unable to keep the grin off her face. “But don’t blame me if I upstage all of you tonight.”

Tallen smirked. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

After a few drinks—just enough for Y/N to feel a pleasant buzz warming her cheeks—and some planning for tonight's performance, the nostalgia began to creep in. The laughter, the easy camaraderie of old friends… it felt like slipping back into a part of herself she hadn’t touched in a long time.

Soon, the time for the show finally came. Excusing herself with a grin, Y/N made her way to the Going Merry to grab her guitar. When she returned, the bar was alive with excitement, the anticipation practically crackling in the air.

Tallen, ever the showman, was already commanding the attention of the crowd with his infectious energy and booming voice. He stood center of the makeshift stage, Den Den Mushi in hand, hyping up the room like a seasoned entertainer. When his eyes landed on Y/N stepping into view, he broke into a wide grin, his charisma cranked up to full volume.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Pirates, sailors, and scallywags alike!” he called out, his voice booming through the Den Den Mushi. “Prepare yourselves for a treat like no other! She’s sailed with the best, dazzled the rest, and left a trail of awestruck audiences in her wake! The one, the only, the songbird of the seas—give it up for Y/N!”

The audience erupted into whistles, cheers, and applause as Tallen stepped aside, his grin as wide as ever while he gestured grandly for her to take the stage. Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes with a playful laugh, shaking her head at his theatrics. Adjusting the strap of her guitar, she made her way to the centre of the stage with a light skip to her step and a twist that made her skirt flare just slightly, adding her own bit of signature flair to the entrance.

Her smile widened as she took in the energy of the crowd, the cheers lifting her spirits even higher. She gave a mock curtsy, her guitar still slung across her shoulder and leaned into the Den Den with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Alright, alright,” she said, her voice warm but teasing as the applause began to settle. “No need to go overboard—Tallen already made me sound like I’m the second coming of Gold Roger.”

The audience chuckled, and Tallen shot her wink. "Just saying it as I see it, my dear."

“Alright, folks, let me be honest with you—Tallen hyped me up so much that even I’m starting to wonder if I’m actually that good,” Y/N said, grinning. “But hey, if I mess up, just remember—you paid for the drinks, not the talent.”

She let the crowd laugh again, her timing impeccable as she adjusted her guitar. “But in all seriousness, thank you for having me tonight. I don’t usually play in restaurants shaped like fish—it’s a very niche market—but hey, there’s a first for everything.”

A few people cheered in agreement, and Y/N gave a casual shrug. “Now, let’s get to the part where I make you forget how much you spent on tonight’s drinks. If I pull that off, I’m expecting a hefty tip.”

The crowd roared with laughter, and Y/N’s smile widened as her fingers brushed the strings lightly in preparation. “Alright, enough chatter. You’ve got drinks in hand, I’ve got a guitar, and we’ve got a whole night ahead of us. Let’s make it count.”

The performance began with Y/N leading the charge, her guitar striking bright, rhythmic chords that immediately set an upbeat tone. Lyan joined in, the lively jingle of his tambourine adding a playful, danceable cadence. The two played off each other seamlessly, their chemistry sparking an infectious energy that had the crowd tapping their feet.

With a quick nod from Y/N, the rest of the group jumped in. Tallen’s mandolin brought a sharp, vibrant melody, Ren’s drums added a driving, steady beat, and Kiku’s violin soared with a celebratory tone that tied everything together. The room came alive as the music burst into full swing, blending into a rich, layered sound.

The energy in the room shifted, the crowd coming alive with movement as the song picked up speed.

"I thought this path was ours to tread, But now it feels like we’ve been misled, Walking this lonely, lonely, endless shore. Your reasons crash like waves at sea, Still, here you are, still here with me, On this lonely, lonely, endless shore."

When the chorus hit, the energy exploded. The band’s instruments blended into a dynamic symphony, each member adding their unique flair. The crowd clapped along, swept up in the fast-paced rhythm. Y/N almost laughed mid-strum when her eyes landed on a drunk Usopp, who had claimed a tiny patch of open floor as his personal dance stage. With exaggerated movements and questionable rhythm, he twirled and stomped.

"If I follow you to the blue, And let my heart drift back to you, Will you stay with me forever, Or disappear like fading beams? If I give my soul to the restless tide, And let its rhythm be our guide, Will it hold us close together, Or wash away our dreams?"

As the band transitioned into the second verse, the room buzzed with vibrant energy. Y/N’s voice carried the emotional weight of the lyrics, weaving effortlessly into the lively rhythm of the instruments. The crowd was fully engaged—some clapped along, others swayed to the music and a few near the bar cheered, their laughter mingling with the lively tune. Even the more reserved patrons couldn’t resist tapping their feet or nodding along.

"You chose a path I couldn’t take, Now here we stand, the ground could break, Walking this lonely, lonely, endless shore.

Take my hand, don’t let it fall, Where does it end, if anywhere at all, Walking this lonely, lonely, endless shore."

The band played with seamless harmony—Y/N’s steady guitar leading, Kiku’s violin soaring, Ren’s drums driving the rhythm, and Tallen’s mandolin adding a playful melody, all tied together by Lyan’s tambourine. The crowd fed off their energy, with a few pirates dancing along with Usopp, turning a small patch of the floor into thier personal, chaotic dance stage.

Y/N caught herself smiling as she glanced over at her friends. Nami was bopping her head in time with the rhythm, a grin spread across her face as if she couldn’t help but get caught up in the energy of the song. Zoro, ever the stoic one, sat back with his usual indifference, but Y/N noticed the slight tap of his foot in time with the beat, betraying his enjoyment. Her fingers moved fluidly over the strings, effortlessly keeping pace with the upbeat rhythm, her smile widening as the song carried on to the last verse.

"I’m just a shadow in your light, A fleeting trace in the starless night. The ocean holds your broken vow, A love you couldn’t cherish now. I know, I know, it’s hard to bear, I lost you here, it’s just not fair. I know, I know, the tide won’t stay, It sweeps our dreams, it pulls away. I know, I know, it’s all too real, I lost you here, I’ll never heal."

With one final strum of the guitar and a unified flourish from the band, the music ended in a crescendo, leaving the crowd cheering, whistling, and stomping their approval. The energy in the room was electric, the upbeat ending turning what could have been a somber farewell into a celebration of persistence, love, and life’s tides.

Y/N laughed breathlessly, taking a small bow as the applause roared around her. Turning to her bandmates, she exchanged a wide grin with them, all of them clearly riding the high of the performance.

“Alright, drinks on you guys, yeah?” Y/N teased, her voice light and playful, carrying easily over the cheers and laughter that filled the room.

Tallen, grinned as he turned to her, his hand dramatically pressed over his heart.

“Oh, sweet Y/N,” Tallen said, his tone dripping with mock sincerity, the perfect blend of theatrical and heartfelt, “just one more ballad, yeah? Promise.”

“Oh, I don’t know, T." Y/N tilted her head, leaning back slightly as if the weight of his words was just too much to bear. "Carrying this whole show on my back is exhausting, you know.”

The crowd laughed, and Tallen didn’t miss a beat. He turned sharply to face the audience, his charisma cranked up to full volume, arms spread wide like a ringmaster addressing his adoring crowd.

“Come on, folks,” he called out, his grin dazzling and infectious. “Don’t you want to hear more? You’re not tired of her yet, are you?”

The room erupted with a thunderous cheer, whistles and applause filling the air as people shouted their agreement. Y/N raised an eyebrow, glancing at Tallen with a playful smirk as the crowd roared around them.

Leaning toward the Den Den, she gave him a mock glare, her voice dripping with teasing charm. “You really are shameless, aren’t you? Riding my coattails like this,”

Tallen shrugged dramatically, his grin widening. “What can I say? They love you, darling. I’m just the hype man making sure the masses get what they want.”

“And here I thought I was the show-off,” Her grin widened as she addressed the laughing audience, her tone light but commanding, filled with charm.

“Alright, alright, you win. Let’s give them something they’ll be singing in their sleep.” She threw Tallen a cheeky glance. “And don’t think you’re off the hook, T. I’m watching you.”

With that, the band launched into the next song, the instruments bursting to life in perfect harmony. The room came alive once more, and the audience swept up in the rhythm, completely enthralled by the magic of the performance.

Soon, the show came to an end, much to Y/N’s dismay. The applause was deafening as she strummed the final chord, giving the crowd one last radiant smile and a playful wave. “You’ve been amazing—don’t forget to tip your bartenders!” she called, earning another round of laughter and cheers before stepping down from the stage.

She was immediately met by a wave of smiling patrons, each vying for a moment of her time. Compliments poured in, one after another—people singing her praises, declaring her the highlight of their night. Some handed her Berry as tokens of appreciation, while others offered bottles of liquor, which she accepted with a bright grin and a playful “You sure know how to spoil a girl.” A few even declared their undying love, and Y/N laughed, placing a hand over her heart. “Flattered, truly. I’ll consider proposals after my second bottle.”

Her natural charm and ease kept the interactions lively, but eventually, she managed to slip away, the bottle of rum in her hand clinking softly as she met up with Tallen. Together, they wandered off to a quieter, more secluded part of the fish-ship, near the docks. The sounds of the lively restaurant faded into the background as they sat down at the edge, letting their feet dangle over the water.

“Been too long,” Tallen said, breaking the silence as he gazed out over the gently rippling water.

Y/N nodded, her fingers idly tapping the neck of the bottle. “Yeah, it has. I missed this. Missed you.”

He grinned, though it was softer than his usual showmanship, the kind of smile that reached his eyes. “You’ve done good, you know. I can tell.”

She laughed lightly, leaning back on her hands. “Still figuring it out. You know me—one chaotic day at a time, which these days seems more often than not.”

Tallen smirks in curiosity, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Earlier today, you saw the people I was with, well..."

They passed the bottle back and forth, the hum of the distant crowd fading into the background as they talked. This wasn’t the idle chatter from before—it was real, honest catching up, the kind of conversation only old friends could have. They laughed about shared memories, exchanged stories of where they’d been, and filled in the gaps that time and distance had left.

Y/N leaned back on her hands, staring up at the stars as Tallen told her a particularly ridiculous story about his recent travels. She laughed, the sound light and genuine, and nudged his shoulder with her own.

“You’re still as full of it as ever,” she teased, though her eyes gleamed with fondness.

“And you’re still the queen of stealing the spotlight,” Tallen retorted, taking another swig of rum and shooting her a teasing grin. “But damn, it’s good to see you out here again. Just like old times.”

Y/N chuckled softly, her fingers brushing the edge of the dock as her gaze drifted to the water.

“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “It’s good to see you too.”

For a moment, they let the silence settle between them, the kind of peaceful, unspoken understanding that only old friends could share. The gentle lapping of the waves against the ship filled the spaces between their breaths, and for a brief while, the weight of the past and the uncertainties of the future didn’t matter.

But, of course, Tallen couldn’t leave it there.

“So,” he began, his tone mischievous as always, “tell me… what happened with that boy? The one you left us for? You know, the one who made you think settling down was a good idea, all doe-eyed and dreamy?

The question hit her like a splash of cold water. Memories rushed back, unbidden, vivid and sharp. That boy. The boy. She could still see his face, hear his laugh, and feel how easy it had been to let her guard down with him. And she remembered just as vividly how that had been her downfall. The trust she’d given so freely, the love she’d thought was unshakable—it had all come apart like a house of cards in a storm.

She didn’t respond right away, instead reaching for the bottle of rum and taking a long swig, letting the burn of the alcohol drown out the ache that wanted to settle in her chest. Only when she’d numbed it enough did she hand the bottle back to Tallen.

“He was a pirate,” she said simply, her voice steady but laced with a bitterness she couldn’t quite hide.

Tallen took the bottle from her, his brow furrowing slightly as he took his own drink. He let the silence hang for a beat before muttering, “Fucking pirates.”

Y/N let out a soft, humorless laugh, her lips quirking upward just slightly. “Yeah. Fucking Pirates.”

The two fell quiet again, the weight of her words settling between them. Tallen didn’t press further—he didn’t need to. They both knew there were some stories better left in the past, especially on a night like this...

Y/N kept her gaze fixed on the water as it slipped and swirled around her feet, her toes wiggling absently in the cool waves. A quiet sigh escaped her as her thoughts drifted to a time when seeing her toes had been a rare occurrence—back when she didn’t need feet at all. The memory tugged at her, bittersweet and heavy.

“Do you ever miss… swimming?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a subtle edge, as though the question itself might shatter the fragile peace of the moment. But that wasn’t really what she wanted to ask. What she meant to say was, Do you ever miss your tail?

Tallen glanced at her, the unspoken meaning behind her words not lost on him. His fingers idly traced the rim of the bottle, his eyes flickered to the water. He didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, the ever-present charm and humor he wore like armor fell away, revealing something quieter, something raw.

“Of course I do,” he said at last, his voice low but steady. “It’s part of who I am. No matter how much I try to forget it—or hide it. I miss it every damn day.”

The words hit Y/N harder than she expected, though they echoed her own thoughts. She nodded faintly, her fingers brushing the edge of the dock as if trying to touch the memories she’d buried beneath the waves.

“Sometimes, I dream about it,” she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. “The feeling of the current, the water rushing past me. It’s like… I can still feel it, but when I wake up, it’s gone. And I realize it’s been gone for a long time.”

Tallen let out a low sigh, opening another bottle and taking a gulp before setting it down between them.

“We didn’t have a choice,” he said, his voice heavier now, laced with something darker. “They left us no choice. Staying in the water… staying as we were… it was a death sentence. Out here, at least, we have a chance. Even if it’s not the life we wanted.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tightening as memories surged forward—the fear, the endless swimming, the loss of those who couldn’t escape. The oceans, once their sanctuary, had become a hunting ground, a place where survival meant running and hiding. Becoming human hadn’t been freedom; it had been desperation.

“I hate it sometimes,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I hate that we had to choose this... to give up what we were just to live. I hate that I don’t feel safe, not here, not in the water. Nowhere.”

Tallen’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand resting gently on hers. “We didn’t choose this, Y/N. I know it's not the life we knew, but it’s a life we can make ours. Even if we have to fight for it every step of the way.”

Y/N took another long drink from the bottle, letting the burn of the rum cut through the ache in her chest. She handed it back to him with a faint, tired smile. “It’s not fair,”

“No, it’s not,” Tallen agreed quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness he rarely let show. “But we’re still here. They didn’t get us. And as long as we’re still breathing, there’s a chance. Maybe not now, maybe not soon, but one day… one day, we’ll stop running.”

Y/N let his words sink in, her toes wiggling again as if testing the water beneath them. She wanted to believe him, to believe there was a day when the fear would fade and they could slip back into the waves without a second thought.

The two bottles of rum were emptied far too quickly, its warmth fading as the night deepened. The distant hum of the restaurant voices grew softer, replaced by the gentle sound of the waves lapping against the ship. The world seemed quieter, heavier, as though the night itself was reluctant to let them go.

Y/N let her feet dip deeper into the water, as if the sea itself could somehow anchor her to this moment, to Tallen, to the sense of familiarity and belonging she always felt in his presence. But reality was already creeping back in, tugging at the edges of her mind.

Tallen stretched his legs, giving the empty bottle a casual toss to the side of the dock, his usual bravado masking the heaviness in the air. “

Guess that’s it, huh?” he said, his tone light, but his eyes betrayed the same reluctance she felt.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied softly, her gaze fixed on the water below. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to face the inevitability of parting ways again. But she knew she couldn’t stay. Neither of them could. “Out of rum, out of time,”

They sat there for a moment longer, both pretending they didn’t know what was coming next. But the truth was impossible to ignore. This wasn’t just a goodbye—it was a question they’d both have to carry if fate allowed them another meeting: Are they still alive?

Tallen finally stood, brushing his hands on his pants before offering one to Y/N to help her up.

“Guess we should leave it here,” he said, his voice steady but strained. “For now.”

Y/N took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. She met his gaze, her own eyes shining with unspoken words.

“For now,” she echoed softly, her lips quirking into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a brief, tight hug. “Take care of yourself, alright?” he said, his tone firm, almost commanding. “And don’t get into too much trouble.”

Y/N chuckled weakly, patting his chest as she pulled back. “You know me. Trouble follows, I just try to be faster.”

Tallen smirked, but it faded quickly. He hesitated for a moment, then turned toward the docks, his footsteps heavy as he began to walk away. Y/N stayed behind, watching his silhouette disappear into the shadows of the fish-ship.

She took a deep breath, letting the sea air fill her lungs, then exhaled slowly. The weight of the question lingered in her chest as she turned back toward the Going Merry. She didn’t know when—or if—she’d see him again. But for now, she had to keep moving. Because life didn’t allow for anything else.

Sirens, as creatures of the sea, naturally possess a higher tolerance for alcohol compared to humans. Their bodies, adapted to handle the intoxicating effects of fermented underwater plants and other potent marine brews, metabolize alcohol far more efficiently. That said, even a Siren wasn’t immune to the occasional tipsy stumble after two entire bottles of rum.

Y/N didn’t realize how tipsy she actually was until she began her walk back to the Going Merry, her steps wobbling as if the ground beneath her were swaying like the ocean waves. Each step was a battle to steady herself, but instead of frustration, she giggled to herself and began humming a tune, one she hadn’t even realized she’d made up on the spot.

By some miracle (or sheer luck), she managed to make it to the Going Merry without falling into the water.

“Absolutely magnifico!” she declared with a dramatic flourish as she boarded the ship.

With a triumphant grin, Y/N made her way inside, her mind now fixated on finding something sweet to snack on. Her thoughts were a delightful jumble of candy, cookies, and maybe even fruit if it was sugary enough. But before she could raid the pantry, she collided headlong into Nami, who looked positively furious.

“Woah! You okay, pumpkin?” Y/N slurred, placing a hand on Nami’s arm with a warm, lopsided smile.

Nami shoved her hand off, glaring at her with a sharpness that sobered Y/N just slightly. “Where the hell were you, Y/N?”

Blinking in surprise, Y/N tilted her head, her hazy mind trying to process the sudden shift in tone. “I… uh… wait, what happened?”

Nami’s glare intensified, her voice rising with frustration. “What happened is that Zoro is a massive idiot and is going to get himself killed!”

Before Y/N could fully process what Nami had just said, the navigator spun on her heel and stormed off, her footsteps echoing down the hall as she headed to her room.

Y/N stood there, swaying slightly as she tried to make sense of what she’d just heard.

“What…?” she muttered to herself, her voice tinged with confusion as she rubbed her temple. “What did I miss now?”

Y/N made her way into the kitchen, her footsteps lighter than usual thanks to her still tipsy state. The room was quieter than expected, and as her eyes adjusted, she took in the scene: a not-so-smiley Luffy—weird— Usopp, drunk yet clearly worried. And then there was the star of the night—Zoro—calmly cleaning his swords at the table, his expression as unreadable as ever.

As she walked in, all eyes turned to her. Well, almost all eyes. Luffy and Usopp looked at her directly, but Zoro merely spared her a quick glance before returning to polishing one of his blades.

“Y/N—” Luffy began, his voice unusually low, but she cut him off before he could finish.

“What’s this I heard about you getting yourself killed, hotshot?” she asked, her tone a mix of teasing and genuine curiosity as she made her way to the pantry, her mission for something sweet still very much a priority.

For a moment, the kitchen was silent, save for the faint sound of Zoro’s whetstone sliding against his sword. And then, as if it were nothing more than casual conversation, Zoro answered, his tone calm and steady: “I challenged Dracule Mihawk to a duel to the death. I’ll defeat him and become the greatest swordsman in the world.”

Y/N froze mid-reach, her hand hovering over a jar of honey. Slowly, she turned her head toward him, blinking as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just heard. That name—Dracule Mihawk—was familiar. Too familiar. The kind of name you didn’t just forget. Wasn’t he…? No, it couldn’t be. She must’ve heard wrong. Surely, she must have.

So, she laughed. A loud, disbelieving tipsy laugh, grinning as though he’d just told her the best joke of the year.

“Oh, that’s funny,” she said, straightening up and giving Zoro a bemused grin. “For a second there, I thought you said Dracule Mihawk. You know, the Mihawk, Warlord of the Sea."

Zoro didn’t even flinch. He continued cleaning his sword, his face completely devoid of humor as he replied, “Yeah, that one.”

Y/N continued to chuckle, shaking her head as she pulled the jar of honey from the pantry. “No, it’s not,”

“It is,” Usopp mumbled, his words slurred with worry.

Y/N stopped mid-motion, the jar of honey held loosely in her hands. She blinked, her tipsy mind still not fully processing the weight of the situation. Turning to Zoro, she found him looking at her, his expression unreadable, saying nothing. That, more than anything, made her stomach tighten.

With a sharp exhale, she marched to the table and all but slapped the jar of honey down, the sound sharp enough to make Usopp flinch. In that single second, the remnants of her drunken haze evaporated. Sobriety hit her like a wave, and her playful grin was gone.

She stared at Zoro with a hard, unyielding glare, the kind that could cut through stone.

“You’re joking,” she said flatly, her voice carrying the kind of edge that dared him to confirm her hopes. When he didn’t respond, her eyes narrowed as she took a step closer. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, Zoro.”

Luffy, of all people, chimed in, his tone oddly serious—too serious for someone who is usually a ray of walking sunshine.

Y/N blinked, looking between Luffy and Zoro, trying to wrap her head around what was being said.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she started, raising a hand as if trying to stop the flood of insanity pouring into the room. “You’re telling me you actually challenged Dracule Mihawk? As in the Warlord of the Sea? The guy who could probably split this fucking sodding ship in half just for fun?”

Zoro glanced up at her briefly, his gaze calm but resolute.

“It’s what I have to do,” he said simply, his tone devoid of fear or hesitation. “If I want to be the greatest swordsman in the world, I have to beat him. That’s the only way.”

Y/N stared at him in stunned silence, her lips parted as she tried to find the words. Her anger faltered for a moment, replaced by something deeper—concern, frustration, maybe even fear.

“Zoro, you can’t just—” she started, but her voice faltered. She straightened up, running a hand through her hair as she stepped back. Her gaze flicked to Luffy and Usopp, searching for some semblance of support. Luffy, however, remained silent, his eyes distant, while Usopp looked sick.

Finally, Y/N let out a frustrated laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Unbelievable. You’re all just going to let him go through with this? No one’s going to stop him?”

“Can’t stop him,” Luffy said simply, his tone carrying a note of quiet acceptance. “This is his dream.”

Y/N’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she stared at Zoro again, disbelief and frustration radiating off her in waves. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. As someone who had always fought tooth and nail for survival, it was utterly maddening to see someone willingly dive headfirst into danger like this.

“Zoro, please,” she said, her tone softer now, though the tension in her voice was clear. “Think about it for a second. I know you want this—I know how much it means to you—but this is insane. You’re already an amazing swordsman—”

“But not the best,” Zoro interrupted, his voice calm but resolute. His focus on his blade never wavered as he continued polishing it. “Not yet. Not until I defeat Mihawk.”

Y/N blinked, her chest tightening as his words sank in. She shook her head in disbelief, her voice rising slightly as she took a step closer. “Are you seriously so willing to throw your life away over a title? Is that all this is to you? Just a damn title?”

Zoro finally looked up, his gaze meeting hers with unyielding determination. “It’s not just a title. It’s everything I’ve trained for. Everything I’ve worked for. If I don’t take this chance, then what’s the point?”

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She searched his expression for any hint of hesitation, of doubt, but found none. He wasn’t going to change his mind. She knew that, even before she asked.

“You’re... not changing your mind, are you?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost defeated.

“You already know the answer to that,” Zoro replied simply.

“Fine,” she said, her voice cold and clipped, her tone like a sharp edge. "Go get yourself fucked up."

Zoro didn’t flinch, his focus already back on his blade. “Noted,”

Y/N scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as she grabbed the jar of honey. She cast one last glare at the back of Zoro’s head, her frustration boiling just beneath the surface, before spinning on her heel and leaving the room without another word.

The jar of honey felt heavier in her hand than it should have, and as she made her way back to her corner of the ship, she couldn’t help but mutter under her breath, “Unbelievable. Reckless, stubborn fool...”

But no matter how angry she was, a part of her couldn’t shake the worry that gnawed at the edges of her mind. As much as she hated to admit it, she cared. And that made this all the more infuriating.

Hours passed, the tension on the Going Merry as thick as the salty sea air around it. Y/N had spent most of that time pacing, her nerves fraying with every passing minute. And now, much to her growing nervousness—and, if she were honest with herself, outright unhappiness—she found herself walking alongside Zoro to the docks of the Baratie with Luffy and Usopp, Nami was nowhere to be found and Y/N had no mind for that the moment.

The swordsman, as usual, was calm and steady, his expression unreadable, as if he were merely heading to run a simple errand rather than walking straight into a duel with one of the most dangerous men alive. Y/N, on the other hand, was barely keeping it together. Despite her earlier words, despite knowing Zoro’s mind was set, she couldn’t help herself.

“Zoro,” she said, her tone tinged with desperation, as she hurried to match his stride. “This doesn’t have to be today, you know. You could wait. Train more. Build yourself up first. Mihawk’s not going anywhere—he’ll still be terrifying tomorrow, or next week, or next year!”

“I’ve waited long enough,” he said simply, his tone steady and resolute.

Y/N groaned, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’re impossible! You know that, right? Utterly impossible. It’s like you’ve got a death wish baked into that stubborn head of yours.”

He didn’t respond, his focus already ahead, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of one of his swords. His silence only fueled her exasperation.

“Zoro, listen,” she pressed, her voice softer now as she stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. “You have nothing to prove. Not to me, not to the crew, not to anyone. You’re already one of the best I’ve ever seen—no one would blame you for waiting until the odds were... I don’t know, less suicidal?”

Zoro looked down at her, his dark eyes meeting hers, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his gaze. But it wasn’t doubt or hesitation—it was determination, pure and unwavering.

“I didn’t come this far to stop now,” he said firmly. “If I can’t face him, then I don’t deserve to be the best.”

Y/N stared at him, her mouth opening to argue, but the words caught in her throat. What could she say to that? What could she say to someone who was so determined to chase their dream, even if it killed them?

Y/N rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as they reached the docks. The sight of the Baratie's empty deck and the looming presence of the infamous Dracule Mihawk in the distance made her stomach twist. She didn’t say anything else as they walked, but the tension in her chest only grew heavier with every step.

"Monkey D. Luffy," Mihawk drawled, his deep voice carrying easily over the sound of the waves. Y/N blinked in surprise, her gaze shifting to the warlord as he kept his piercing eyes locked on the boy. She followed Mihawk's line of sight, landing on Luffy, who—of course—was smiling. Smiling? Y/N thought in disbelief. She could never understand him. If a Warlord of the Sea so much as glanced in her direction, she’d have been halfway across the ocean by now.

“I’m surprised the Marines would require my services for such a small package,” Mihawk continued, his tone tinged with a subtle mockery that sent chills down Y/N’s spine. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes lingering on the Straw Hat. “Though I do like your hat…”

“Enough,” Zoro cut him off, his voice steady as he stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the warlord with unwavering resolve. “Let’s begin.”

Y/N gulped, her stomach twisting into knots as she watched Mihawk calmly remove the cross-shaped pendant from around his neck. For a moment, she was confused—was this some kind of pre-duel ritual?—but her confusion turned to disbelief when the man revealed the pendant to be a hidden blade. A tiny hidden blade.

Mihawk pulled the long part free, revealing a small knife, barely larger than a dagger. Y/N’s jaw nearly dropped. What the hell was that? She wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“What is that? I’m here for a sword fight,” Zoro deadpanned, his tone flat but edged with disbelief as he took in the Warlord’s weapon.

Mihawk didn’t flinch, his expression unreadable save for the faintest glint of amusement in his golden eyes.

“I don’t hunt rabbits with a cannon,” he replied almost mockingly, holding the tiny blade with an air of casual confidence.

Zoro, however, remained unshaken. He pulled out his two swords, their blades gleaming in the sunlight as he took a defensive stance. His voice was steady, firm, and filled with resolve. “I’m no rabbit.”

Mihawk pointed his small blade at Zoro, the move almost lazy in its precision. “That remains to be seen,” he said smoothly.

The tension between them hung thick in the air, a moment so charged that Y/N felt like she could hardly breathe. The world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them, predator and challenger, locked in an unspoken battle of wills before a single strike had even been made.

And then, Zoro moved.

With a burst of speed, he ran straight toward the Warlord, his swords raised and his expression fierce with determination. The fight had begun.

The fight was a blur for Y/N, but one thing was painfully clear—Mihawk had the upper hand from the very start. Every move Zoro made was effortlessly countered, every strike easily dodged or deflected as though the Warlord was swatting away a pesky fly.

Y/N’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a shriek when Mihawk drove the small dagger into Zoro’s chest. Her fingers dug into Luffy’s arm as she squeezed tightly, her own breath catching at the sheer ruthlessness of the moment. When Mihawk finally unsheathed his massive blade, Yoru, Y/N grimaced, her stomach twisting with dread.

And then, as Zoro’s swords crumbled under the sheer power of Mihawk’s strike, Y/N couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her lips. Her eyes widened in shock as Zoro, instead of backing down, willingly let himself be slashed across the chest, standing tall even in defeat. The scene left her frozen, torn between awe at his resolve and fear for his life.

"Zoro!" Luffy shouted, his voice raw with emotion as the green-haired swordsman collapsed to the ground.

Without a second thought, Y/N bolted toward him, her heart pounding in her chest. She dropped to her knees beside Zoro, her hands hovering over him, unsure of where to even start.

There it was—a massive, long, bloodied slash stretching across his chest, from one shoulder to the opposite side. The sight of it made her stomach drop. Her breath hitched as she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

"Oh, shit… Zoro," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her own heart.

Monkey D. Luffy," Mihawk called out, his voice laced with a faint trace of curiosity. His sharp gaze settled on the boy, as if measuring him. "What’s your goal?"

"I’m going to become the King of the Pirates," Luffy replied, his tone uncharacteristically serious, his eyes unwavering.

"King of the Pirates, hmm?" Mihawk repeated, a flicker of intrigue crossing his otherwise stoic expression. "That’s a far more perilous path than even defeating me."

Luffy didn’t flinch. Instead, he turned to glare at the Warlord, his resolve shining through. "I don’t care," he said firmly. "It’s what I’m going to do."

Mihawk regarded him in silence for a moment, as though he were assessing something beyond words. Then, with a faint hum of approval, he nodded slightly.

"Maybe you will at that," he said, his tone carrying an unusual note of respect, "This world could use a few more wild cards."

Mihawk turned his piercing gaze away from Luffy, letting it fall to the green-haired swordsman lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. “Roronoa Zoro,” he said, his voice calm but commanding. “It’s too soon for you to die. Grow strong and come find me. I’ll be waiting.”

With that, and much to Y/N’s immense relief, Dracule Mihawk turned and walked away, disappearing into the distance.

Usopp hurried to kneel next to Y/N and Luffy, his face pale as he took in the sheer amount of blood pouring from Zoro’s chest.

“He’s losing so much blood,” Usopp said, his voice shaking with panic.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Luffy said firmly, though the determination in his voice couldn’t quite mask the crack of worry underneath.

“Hey, Zoro,” Y/N leaned closer, her voice trembling but insistent as she gently touched his cheek. “Can you hear me? Come on, hotshot, don’t do this.”

Luffy’s voice was softer now, he was smiling but his voice was filled with quiet resolve. “He said it’s too soon for you to die."

Zoro, lying in a pool of his own blood, let out a groan, his voice strained and heavy with pain. Every word sounded like it hurt to speak, but still, he forced them out. "Luffy... if I fail to become the world’s greatest swordsman… you’ll be disappointed. Right?"

Luffy immediately shook his head, his voice firm and unwavering. "You could never fail me,"

"Never… again. From now… until I beat him…" Summoning his last reserves of energy, Zoro gritted his teeth and unsheathed Wado Ichimonji, the sword trembling in his bloodied hand. He raised it weakly, his arm barely steady. "To become the greatest swordsman… I will never lose again!"

Y/N pursed her lips, worry etched into every line of her face as she watched Zoro’s arm falter. The sword slipped from his grip, clattering to the ground as his body went limp. He was out.

"Zoro?" Luffy’s voice broke slightly as he leaned closer, shaking the unconscious swordsman. "Zoro?! Zoro!"

"Luffy, stop!" Y/N grabbed Luffy’s arm, her voice sharp but tinged with worry. Her grip was firm, her eyes locking onto his with a quiet urgency. "Shaking him won’t help."

Luffy froze, his hands trembling as he pulled back slightly. Y/N turned to Nami, who was hovering just behind them, her face pale with concern and her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"We need to get him inside," Y/N said, her tone steady but urgent as she glanced between Nami, Usopp and Luffy. She pressed her lips together, her mind racing. "Now!"

They all nodded quickly, their hands moving instinctively to help as they began the careful process of lifting Zoro, doing everything they could to keep him stable. The tension in the air was palpable, but Y/N’s focus remained on the task at hand, suppressing the storm of worry swirling in her chest.

They couldn’t lose him. Not here. Not like this.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Lots of love. Be safe.

Also, tell me if you want to get tagged.

Divider by @cafekitsune

Tags: @weirdowithaphone

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trashno0dle · 7 months ago

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one of the many things about dead boy detectives that i will never be able to get over is the sheer amount of devotion that charles and edwin have for each other like.

edwin. sacrificed to a demon by classmates and forced to spend over 70 years in hell for something completely out of his control, he was denied a peaceful afterlife and dealt an eternal torment being ripped apart over and over again. he escapes and not long after he comes across a dying boy in the attic and despite everything he's been through, how cruel he knows humanity can be, he stays with him throughout the night and waits, ensuring that he's not alone, giving him the comfort he wished he'd had.

charles. beaten and harassed by people he thought to be his friends, he's witnessed this cruelty throughout his life and knows how people can be. yet, when he's at his lowest, hurt and afraid, he's finally offered comfort that he's longed for his entire life. this might've been the kindest act someone had done for him in a long time. when he dies he rejects what could be essentially heaven to stay with the boy who wouldn't leave his side that night.

a single night bonded them forever. solving cases and helping other spirits move on, knowing full well that they're risking everything by being so close to death yet still outrunning her each time because they refuse to leave each other, they can't. charles having such a deep love for edwin, romantic or not, it still drove him to go through hell and back to rescue him. it makes me so insane whenever i think about it. and when edwin confessed his love to charles, who in the gentlest way let him down but told him they still had forever to figure it out, nothing changed between them in fact, it only fuelled their devotion to one another.

i just. im insane i love them so much.

#oh also still not over montys whole arc. that wrecked me #dbda #dead boy detectives #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #payneland #i watched it as soon as it came out but ive only been able to put my thoughts abt it into words now #abuse tw #tw abuse #(tagging just in case)

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 5 months ago

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Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 15

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: None. Just angst and fluff.

Word Count: 3,343

A/N: So, here it is - Chapter 15, and the end of this series. I've been so grateful for all the wonderful reblogs and encouraging comments this fic has received as it's gone along week by week. Your support is the reason why it's finally completed.

It began life as just a few chapters from an orphaned fic of mine over on ff.net and now it's a fully completed Dean fic that I'm very proud of. 😊 So thanks again, and I hope you enjoy the end of this story, and feel it was worth the investment of your time. ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Four weeks later. January 1901.

Dean sat down heavily behind his mahogany desk and picked up his morning mail before immediately throwing it back down in annoyance.

It will just be invitations and invoices, Dean thought, who cares?

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and digging his fingers into them. He was hungover and had barely slept. He felt like he'd been hit with a brick building.

With a deep sigh, he opened the file in front of him and ran his hand over the top page. It was his copy of the deal that he’d finally signed a week ago.

Two weeks ago, George Taskett had called his secretary to arrange a meeting. When Dean showed up at the appointed time, George apologized profusely for what had happened at the theater.

“It’s taken me a little while to reach out to you because I wanted to be able to tell you that Byron Temple had been fired, and before I could do that, I needed to speak to the board about it first. But I can assure you now that he has been permanently removed from his position, and fired from our company. It seems that the board shared my concerns with his lack of moral character.”

George had told Dean that when they investigated a little bit, they’d discovered that the incident at The Manhattan hadn't been the first such incident for Temple. Dean was not surprised, and he was glad that the board of Northern Freight had been all too happy to show him the door.

So with Temple out of the picture, the deal had gone through as originally planned and all three companies were now set to make a lot of money. Winchester Shipping and Lumber was in the best shape it had ever been in.

But he still couldn't sleep at night.

As he tucked the file away, he heard a knock at the door and then Grant's voice when he opened it. Dean couldn't make out what he was saying to the visitor, but if it was anything other than, “come back another day”, Dean might have to fire him.

A minute later, however, Grant was in his doorway to announce his guest. But Dean didn't need the announcement, as he saw his baby brother's towering frame standing behind his butler.

Dean stood up with a frown, walking out from behind his desk as Grant left, and Sam entered his study. “What's wrong?” He asked without preamble.

Sam shook his head. “Nothing's wrong.”

Dean's scowl got deeper. “What do you mean ‘nothing’s wrong’? Then what are you doing here?”

Sam shrugged. “Just wanted to visit my brother.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against his desk and fixing Sam with a look as he took a seat on one of the leather chairs across from Dean.

“You just wanted to visit?” Dean asked, his voice incredulous. “You thought you'd take a six hour train ride to just…drop in and say hi?”

“Sure.”

“Sam.”

“I just wanted to see how you're doing. See if you're alright.” Sam said innocently.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

Sam sighed. “Cause Y/N isn't.”

Dean's heart beat double time as he scowled again at his little brother. “Sam, honest to god…” He ran a hand through his hair. “This better not be the real reason you're here.”

“It is.” Sam said calmly.

“Well, then I'm sorry you wasted your money on a train ticket, along with six hours of your life.” He held up a finger. “No, twelve, actually, cause you're gonna leave now.”

Sam just continued to stare at him, annoying him profusely. Finally his little brother had the audacity to shake his head and scold him.

“Dean, why did you let her go? I saw you with her, saw you at Christmas. I know you love her.”

“Bullshit!” Dean barked at him, angrily. “You are imagining things, Sam, and I'm not interested in dredging up this same asinine conversation I already had with your wife.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, she told me about it. Just made us even more sure that you were completely in love with Y/N. What we couldn't figure out is why you were so furious about the very idea of loving her.”

“Dammit Sam, drop this!” Dean shouted at him as he straightened up from the desk.

Sam pointed at him. “Yeah, furious like that.” He shrugged. “But then…I think I figured it out “

"Oh, did you?" Dean asked with a death stare, feeling the panic start to rise up in him.

Sam's voice softened as he looked Dean in the eye. “You're afraid you'll end up like Dad.”

Dean clenched his jaw and refused to respond.

But eventually Sam just shook his head. “You won't though.”

Fear and panic sat thick in Dean's throat, clogging his voice as he spoke. “You don't know that.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, I do.”

Silence reigned for a moment before Dean shuffled back and sat down behind his desk again. His head was pounding harder than ever.

He watched Sam for a while before he shook his head. “You don't remember him the way - I mean, obviously you couldn't remember him how he was. Before. But…”

He scrubbed an exhausted hand down his face. “I remember. The way he was. I remember him laughing and smiling. The way he'd pick me up when he walked back in the door at the end of the day, ride me around on his shoulders…I remember all of it. And I remember when it was gone. He was like a completely different man. He might as well have died with her, cause he was gone and he never came back.”

Dean closed his eyes. “So, I swore to myself, I swore,” he emphasized, “that I would never do the same. I would NEVER love someone like that and then lose myself completely when they were gone.”

He shook his head again and opened his eyes to pin Sam with another glare. “I just won't do it.”

Sam sat, quietly nodding for a moment before his brow wrinkled in thought. “Hmm…” He took a deep breath and spoke as he exhaled.

“Do you love me?”

Dean stared at him for a heartbeat before a red flush began climbing up his neck as he answered in a growl. “What are you talking about?”

But Sam just waved away his brother's words. “Nevermind, I already know you do. You love me a lot.”

Dean continued to glare at his annoying little brother, not sure what to even say to that.

“And I know you love Jess and Lucy too. Also a lot.”

“What is your point Sam?” He barked at him, although he thought he'd started to figure it out.

“I know this too, though.” Sam continued without answering him, “If anything ever happened to me or…Jess, or…” He didn't seem able to finish the horrible idea, and Dean felt his stomach churn and his chest ache at the mere thought.

But Sam pushed on. “If something ever happened, you'd never abandon the ones left behind. You'd never leave us on our own.”

Dean bit his bottom lip, feeling his throat ache from his trapped feelings.

“Oh yeah?” He asked doubtfully. “And how could you possibly be sure of that?” He smiled without humor. “I am my father's son, after all.”

Sam shrugged. “That may be, but you're also just Dean, my big brother. And he's the most selfless man I've ever known.”

Dean scoffed, but Sam continued over him.

“You've never put yourself first. Not while you were raising me. Not when you went toe-to-toe with Dad for me, so I could go to law school. Not when you worked a second job outside the business, so that you could pay my whole tuition when Dad refused to pay for it with ‘company money’ as he called it.”

Dean couldn't look at Sam any longer, dipping his head to stare at the wood grain in his desk as his brother continued to heap undeserving praise on him.

“And ever since you took over the company, you've always put your employees first, you take care of them, you work twice as hard as you need to, and pay them a lot more than other companies do, to make sure they can live good, happy lives. I've seen your books, I know it's true.”

“So?” Dean cut into Sam's diatribe, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “Even if all of this praise was true, which it isn't, none of it proves that loving and losing someone wouldn't change all of that. Dad was a good man too, until he loved a woman and lost a woman.”

Sam tightened his jaw. “Maybe he was, but he was also a selfish bastard for abandoning us, for just going off to live alone with his grief and anger. You weren't even five years old, and you'd just lost your mother!” Sam huffed angrily. “He should have cared about that too. He should have cared about you, about us...not just the wife he lost.”

Dean's instinct was to defend their father, but he didn't. He'd begun to see that Sam was right; it had been pretty selfish.

“And I'm telling you,” Sam said with conviction, “if you and Y/N were lucky enough to be blessed with children, you would NEVER abandon them for any reason. Not ever. Because you. are not. our father.”

Dean heard his little brother's words, and the freedom he found in them, surprised him. It felt like he could breathe deeply for the first time in a very long time. He felt a tear escape and he dashed it away quickly, turning his chair away from Sam and staring at the wall.

After a moment of quiet, Sam spoke solemnly. "But none of this speculating about how you'd act IF you fell in love with Y/N really matters anyway. Because the plain and simple fact is, you're already in love with her.”

The words still made Dean's stomach clench, and he turned back to Sam and shook his head. “No, I refused, I wouldn't let myself love her.”

Sam rolled his eyes and breathed out harshly. “Damn! You really are a monumental idiot.”

Dean scowled at him, unimpressed with his opinion.

“Dean, you can't stop yourself from loving someone. You can't just control something like that.”

Dean felt the old, familiar panic start to rise in his chest. If he couldn't control it...if he really did love her already…then he'd already lost, and he'd never be free of her hold on him.

I don't wanna be free.

The intrusive thought leaked into his mind and he closed his eyes, trying desperately to deny it but-

“She's leaving.”

Dean's eyes popped open to stare at Sam.

“What do you mean?” He asked quietly.

“She gave us her notice. She's leaving. Catching a train in a couple of days. That's why I came to shake some sense into you before it's too late. She's going west, says she wants to seek some adventure, but I know it's really because we're all just a constant reminder of you. She's been miserable this whole last month - trying very hard to hide it - but miserable.”

Dean felt a different kind of panic rising as he contemplated Y/N being on the other side of the country, living her life a million miles from his.

She'd get married to someone else - someone who didn't become paralyzed with fear at the thought of needing her in his life. He'd win her over, he'd make her smile, make her happy. He'd give her children; he'd be the damn compatible husband she'd always wanted, and give her the little cottage and respectable life she deserved.

The exact life he'd told her to go and live just before he made love to her and then snuck out of the room before she woke, like a coward.

He looked at his little brother, desperate now for his help. “Shit. I walked away from her Sam. I left her a goddamn note cause I was too much of a coward to say goodbye to her face. Cause I knew if I spent another minute with her, I'd be so tempted to do anything she wanted, say anything she wanted, just to get her to stay. And I couldn't risk it.”

Sam gave him a scolding look and just shook his head.

Dean's voice was slightly forlorn. “What are the chances she forgives me for that?”

Sam shrugged. “Won't know till you try, coward.”

***

Y/N clutched the handle of her leather bag tightly, gripping it over and over, wearing it smooth from sheer worry. She recognized that traveling alone, to some remote California town she'd never been to was ludicrous and dangerous. But she just couldn't take it another day; she needed to get as far away as she could.

Living with Sam and Jessica everyday, watching them in their happy, loving marriage, was simply more than she could handle. The fact that occasionally, when Sam smiled or frowned or laughed a certain way, a tiny piece of his big brother would appear on his face, well, that was just the knife in her heart that made leaving quickly a necessity.

So, here she was, on a bench on the train platform, waiting for a train to roll in and carry her away from endless reminders of Dean. But even just sitting on the bench reminded her that she'd first met him while she was sitting on a bench - on that cool day last fall, when he'd burned his way into her life, into her heart and then into her bed. Unfortunately, he'd also burrowed his way into her soul, and she knew he'd never leave.

Even now she imagined that she heard him calling her name over the screaming whistle of the steam engine that was pulling up beside her; it was the train that would take her away from everything she wanted to leave behind. Though she knew she'd never manage it completely.

Y/N frowned slightly as she looked up; she thought she heard his voice again. Was she truly going mad?

But then she saw him, running through the steam on the platform, coming towards her. She jumped up, completely confused, but somehow feeling like she needed to be on her feet.

“Dean?” She asked as he reached her. “Why are you…? What-”

Dean interrupted her. “Don't get on that train. Don't go. I have a proposition for you instead.”

Y/N felt her heart plummet. “Dean-”

“Marry me.”

Her words died in her throat and she just stared at him, her eyes bulging as she tried to work out what was going on.

“Oh,” she said almost sadly, “I've actually gone completely mad now.”

But Dean was shaking his head. “No, sweetheart, I was the crazy one. I was the one who thought I could simply wish away, or will away loving you, but I should have known it was never gonna work.”

Y/N returned to being simply speechless, eyes wide and staring once again, as Dean continued, his voice sincere and ardent.

“Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I didn't stick around to say goodbye. Hell, I'm sorry I even tried to say goodbye in the first place. I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to let myself love you, or admit to it anyway. Seems like I didn't really have much say in the matter. Apparently trying desperately to not love someone, doesn't actually stop you from loving them. Who knew?" He said with a lopsided smile and a shrug.

Still smiling, he took another step towards her and his voice was strong and sure. "But I'm mostly sorry that I didn't wrap my arms around you the very first time I saw you, and absolutely refuse to let you go.”

“That's actually kidnapping!”

Y/N whipped around to see Sam and Jessica standing behind her on the platform with Lucy between them. Jessica slapped Sam's arm for his sarcastic comment.

“Shush. He's trying.” She waved at Dean and called to him. “You're doing great, champ! Keep going!”

“Give her the ring, Uncle Dean. Ladies like rings!” Lucy shouted.

Y/N started crying and laughing in the same breath, and nearly choked. But as Dean nodded at his niece and got down on one knee, tears won out and she started crying noisily.

He gazed up at her with a soft smile and slightly glassy eyes. “I wasn't planning to do this with an audience, and I have a lot to explain to you, I know, about why I was such an idiot and how stupid I was to be afraid of loving you.”

“Quit reminding her she'll be marrying a moron!” Sam called out again, and Y/N heard Jessica smack him again. But she couldn't take her eyes off of the massive ring that sat in the velvet box Dean opened and presented to her.

It was a Tiffany's box, she noticed, and inside was a beautiful diamond ring, with a small round emerald in the very center.

“I love you so much, Y/N, and I know I don't deserve you, but please say yes anyway.”

“Yes!” She shouted, taking the box from him and then throwing her arms around his neck, letting him stand up and twirl her around, laughing with him through her tears.

Everyone on the platform clapped happily, as Dean kissed her.

Sam covered Lucy's eyes but she pushed his hand away, clapping loudly at the little fairytale that had played out for her.

As Dean pulled back, he slipped the ring onto her finger and ran his thumb over her knuckles, before raising her hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it, just like he did the very first day they'd met. It still had the power to make her stomach flutter.

“Do you like it?” He asked, touching the emerald in the center of her ring.

Remembering her prediction that emeralds would always make her cry, brought on even more of those predictable tears. She was happy beyond measure that she'd been both right and wrong about that.

“Yes, I love it.” She said as she kissed him sweetly and then gazed into his bright green eyes. “And I love you, Dean. So much.”

“Thank God. Just...just don't stop. Please?”

Y/N nodded. "Promise." She whispered.

Dean sighed against her lips before claiming them once again.

***

The St. Louis World's Fair. Spring 1904.

“Lucy Winchester! You've had more than enough of that spun sugar now, come back over here and hold your brother's hand.”

Jessica ran after her six year old with her two year old in tow, until Sam grabbed him up and settled him against his chest. With her hands now free, Jessica grabbed a protesting Lucy away from the cotton candy cart.

Y/N laughed at her former student's frustrated little face and decided to try and help her sister-in-law out. “Luce come here; your cousin needs your help.”

Jessica let go of Lucy's hand so she could run back to her aunt and uncle. Y/N and Dean walked behind them a little ways, with their one year old, Melody, toddling somewhat unsteadily between them.

Y/N let Lucy take Melody's hand. “She loves walking with you and you're so good at showing her just how a real lady walks.”

Lucy beamed proudly as she immediately slowed her pace to allow Melody to keep up, and then walked very sedately to help her little cousin learn how to be a lady.

Jessica smiled brightly over her shoulder and mouthed, thank you to Y/N who laughed lightly. Dean reached over and took her hand now that it was free, swinging it gently back and forth.

Suddenly Y/N remembered Christmas day three years ago and how she'd imagined going to the World's Fair, and walking hand in hand just like this.

There were no cherry trees beside them and the crowds were fairly thick on the pathways around the fair, which meant they were jostled around a bit more than she'd imagined in her idyllic fantasy.

But the feelings she'd imagined back then were exactly the same. Family. Love. Belonging. She stepped closer to Dean and rested her head on his shoulder, squeezing his hand tighter.

He kissed the crown of her head and then whispered to her. “Happy, sweetheart?”

She looked up at him and gave him a mischievous smile. “Happier if you'd kiss me.”

He pretended to be scandalized. “Mrs. Winchester? In public? In full view of the children?”

Y/N laughed happily, making her in laws look back at them and smile.

Dean leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “That's all my strict moral fiber will allow for.” He said in pretentious tones.

Y/N pouted at him playfully and he dipped his head to whisper against the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

“But Mel is sleeping in her cousins’ room with the nanny tonight. So later, in the privacy of our hotel room, I plan on kissing every writhing, shaking inch of your body until you -”

“Auntie!” Y/N was yanked back to reality as Lucy called to her, excitedly. “Melody said my name!”

Trying to ignore the raging fire her husband had kindled within her, Y/N smiled down at Lucy.

“Well, I'm not surprised. She loves her big cousin.”

Lucy smiled widely before she dropped Melody's hand to run up and tell her parents her good news. Melody started to fuss over her cousin leaving, until Dean scooped her up to sit on his shoulders; then she squealed happily, thrilled to be up so high.

Y/N just watched Dean for a moment, her eyes watering slightly as she thought about how heartbroken she'd been on that Christmas day so long ago, when she'd believed this life was forever beyond her reach.

Dean looked down at her and she picked up his hand again, pressing close to him.

“I love you, you know.”

His beautiful green eyes were warm and overflowing with happiness as he bent his head slightly, holding Melody tightly so she didn't slip, and kissed Y/N senseless. Despite his earlier moral protestations, his kiss was slow and deep and it stole all the air from her lungs.

He pulled back from her and the look of love in his eyes stole her breath all over again as he answered.

"I love you too, sweetheart." He kissed her forehead and spoke softly, for her ears only. "Thanks for teaching me how."

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@alwaystiredandconfused

@suckitands33

@jackles010378

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@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

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@winharry

@ladysparkles78

Dean Fics Only:

@kr804573

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

@safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@aylacavebear

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@hobby27

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@waywardcheshire

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@notinthislife50

@foxyjwls007

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

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@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2

@fanfic-n-tabulous

#dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fic series #dean winchester au #dean winchester au fan fic #dean winchester au fan fic series #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff

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