#one piece ch 4 - 6

[beaulesbian]

One Piece ch. 004 - 006 || ch. 485 (ep. 377)

What good is ambition if I can't even save the life of my own captain?

[igbylicious]

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt14

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, FWB to QPR

ch. summary: You and Wooyoung do a little online shopping for a good cause.

wc: 9.3k

ch. warnings: sub Wooyoung, dom San & reader, pegging, anal fingering / sex (Woo receiving), blowjobs, cumming untouched, hairpulling, dirty talk, degradation kink, dacryphilia (ofc), orgasm control, multiple orgasms, light spanking, Woo gets spitroasted — but first he sucks the strap uwu, petnames (‘cockslut’, ‘babygirl’, ‘good boy’ for Wooyoung, ‘baby’ for reader)

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

a/n²: only the epilogue left 〒▽〒 don’t touch me i’m emotional 〒▽〒

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, epilogue

The sky is already darkening by the time San gets back to the apartment building after his late afternoon gym visit, and a crisp smell hangs in the air from an autumn shower that recently passed by. It’s invigorating, keeping San bright and alert despite the satisfying ache in his body from his post-workout exhaustion.

He picks up the mail on his way back; including yours, of course. His key chain has been a little heavier for some time now, but he likes the weight and jingle of it in his hand.

San sifts through the mail as he waits for the elevator to come down. It takes a bit longer than usual, but finally the door opens with its familiar ‘ding’ — revealing one of San’s neighbours inside.

Mrs Yoon.

“Oh! Hi, Mrs Yoon,” San says awkwardly, standing aside to let her through. He tries not to think about the last time he talked to the old lady, which only makes him think about it harder, an embarrassed heat burning under his skin.

Mrs Yoon gives him a crinkled smile as she steps out the elevator. “Hello, young man,” she politely greets him back, but there is a cheeky glint in her eyes.

San’s skin burns hotter, and can’t decide if it’s a mercy or a torment that she doesn’t acknowledge their previous conversation, leaving it all unspoken between them. Instead she simply wishes San a pleasant evening and starts to walk past him, going about her business without embarrassing him any further.

She probably intends for it to be a mercy — but something nags at San as Mrs Yoon leaves, and he realises he can’t let her go just yet.

“Ah, Mrs Yoon, could you wait a moment? Please?” he asks. “There is something I’d like to talk about.”

She stops her little shuffle towards the exit, blinking at San in surprise. “Of course, dear. What’s on your mind?”

What’s on his mind? You. You are.

Specifically, the jaded resignation on your face when you’d brushed off San’s concern about Mrs Yoon’s boyfriend-comment; when you told him you’re used to it.

He doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like that you need apathy to shield yourself from a world that’s oblivious to your lived experience at best, and at worst believes it’s something to be fixed. San isn’t naive; he knows he can’t take away society’s constant pressure for romantic attachment by himself. But there is something he can do right here and now.

Maybe today, he can be your shield instead.

“Um, Mrs Yoon, when we ran across you the other day… I just wanted to say, she’s not my girlfriend,” San says with calm warmth, a friendly smile on his face. Making it clear as politely as possible that he’s not starting a discussion, just stating a fact.

Mrs Yoon blinks at him in confusion, but then she breaks out in a smile of her own, filled with misplaced understanding.

“Ahhh, I see! And the other young man, he is not your boyfriend then, hm?” she grins slyly, like she’s in on some covert plot of secrecy. “I got it, your secret is safe with me. Though if I can give a piece of advice; a little more discretion wouldn’t hurt if you want to keep it a secret for much longer! If an old biddy like me has figured it out, then I can’t be the only one.”

San sighs a weary chuckle at the further misunderstanding. “No, no there’s no secrets. Wooyoung is my boyfriend,” he says, and Mrs Yoon’s confusion comes back tenfold. “But it’s different with her. We’re… We are friends. Really close friends. She’s very important to me.”

Something softens in Mrs Yoon’s face at San’s simple earnestness. She scratches her chin as she mulls it over, but eventually comes to a decision with a firm nod. “Hmm, well. Nothing wrong with that either, I suppose. Just as long as you three treat each other right.”

The safe politeness in San’s smile melts away, making way for honest happiness. “We do, Mrs. Yoon. Always.”

Grinning, she reaches up to suddenly pinch his cheek. San lets out a tiny ack, more out of surprise than pain, though her grip is surprisingly strong. “Now that I know,” she winks cheekily, then releases him. “Have a nice evening together, young man. She’s very lucky to have a good friend like you.”

Ah, and there Mrs Yoon gets it wrong again. “No, I’m the lucky one here, I reckon,” San grins. She shakes her head with a little reedy laugh, like his answer is exactly what she expected from him.

With that, San parts ways with Mrs Yoon and takes the elevator to the top floor. To you and Wooyoung.

San finds his and Wooyoung’s apartment empty when he drops off his bag — though honestly, he’s stopped thinking of the two spaces as ‘yours’ and ‘theirs’. So he gives Byeol a sweet little kiss on the top of her sweet little head, then goes over next-door without too much thought. Some days San enjoys a bit of alone time, but this is not one of them.

No, San can’t wait to curl up on the couch against one or two of his favourite people, maybe order in some food today so the time can be spent just lazing around in each others’ company.

When he opens the door to your apartment (strictly legally speaking), San hears an animated conversation happening. He perks up in curiosity, heading in closer to make out the words of what seems to be a lively discussion.

He finds you and Wooyoung on the couch, scrolling through something on your phone.

“Oohh, this looks pretty! And affordable too,” you say, looking to Wooyoung for his agreement — until you spot San and give him a little wave. “Hey, welcome back! Had a good workout?”

“Yeah, real good,” San says, a fond smile crinkling his eyes. Sounds like you and Wooyoung are looking at apartment listings again; something that started out as just fun and casual, building little fantasies around the possibilities, but the search is slowly growing more intentional.

But Wooyoung makes a face at your phone screen, shaking his head. “Too small,” he says decisively. “Ah, San! San! Good, you’re here, you can settle this for us!”

“Sure, lay it on me,” San says, naively assuming it’s about one of the listings. Then again, the way you immediately roll your eyes in exasperation…

“Seriously, Woo? You’re still on that?”

Wooyoung ignores you, turning to San with grim determination. “San. Tell her that if I don’t get to fuck other people, then she doesn’t get to either! A closed relationship, that’s what we agreed on.”

“That’s what you agreed on. You and San. I never agreed to any such thing.”

San blinks in baffled confusion. What? “Wait, you want to sleep with others? You barely have the stamina to keep up with us,” he blurts out, unable to fully process the idea that you’d want to open the relationship up.

“Hey,” you pout.

“What, ‘hey’?” he chuckles. “You’re the one who blamed us for that UTI because we are, and I quote, ‘horny demons who thrive on obliterating your poor bladder’s bacterial ecosystem’. Seriously, since when are you looking for more?”

“I’m not! Woo is just making drama over nothing!” you sigh, shooting Wooyoung some heavy side-eye. “I only pointed out that because we kinda winged this whole throuple situation, that technically we never made any rules about me and any hypothetical interest I might have.” Your side-eye deepens at the last part.

“Right,” Wooyoung says, returning your side-eye in equal force. “Hypothetical. Because you totally didn’t bring that up out of nowhere after sniffing around for gossip on San and Yunho’s past… activities.”

Yunho?! Since when is he on your radar?

It throws you too; your side-eye breaks as you look at Wooyoung in surprise. “That’s what this is about? Because I asked about him?” You let out a small, endeared giggle at Wooyoung’s jealous streak. “Woo, I’m just curious about the guy, is all! I finally get to meet him in person next week, I’ve only heard him on voice chat when you guys play that Mile of Mythologies thing together.”

“League of Legends!” San and Wooyoung protest simultaneously like clock-work.

“Yeah yeah,” you grin. “So, can we stop throwing a fuss over nothing or picking on me for having a delicate bladder?”

“Hey, I’m not picking on you for that. Honestly, all things considered it’s kind of a miracle you only got a UTI once. You got a toughie in there!” Wooyoung points out, grinning as he pats your lower stomach.

“Thank you! Now let’s go back to the important things in life, shall we?” You raise up your phone back up to go look at apartment listings again. Or so San thinks, at least.

(Somewhere in the back of his head, San vaguely notes that technically, you still haven’t agreed on a damn thing about the sleeping-with-other-people thing. Not that Wooyoung’s objections were needed; you don’t seem to actually have any serious considerations about Yunho, or anyone else. Well, and even if you did…

San smiles absent-mindedly. It’s not like he has bad memories of those past ‘activities’ with Yunho. The direct opposite, in fact. The idea of teaming up on you or Wooyoung… Wait, what? Hold on, where did that thought come from?)

“You really don’t like this one, Woo?” you ask Wooyoung, tilting the screen to him, completely unaware of the newly sparked scenarios inside San’s head.

“I told you, it’s too small!”

San shakes off whatever the hell is going on with his imagination, and focuses on his curiosity about this apartment. It must be real nice if you’re so set on the place, even if Wooyoung disagrees.

“This is too small?? Damn Woo, never knew you’re that much of a size queen.”

San frowns. Size queen? Again; what?

“Hey, who can blame me? I’ve gotten used to a certain… stretch,” Wooyoung says, a bold grin spreading over his face.

A stretch??? …Okay, maybe San needs to re-examine his assumptions about what you and Wooyoung are looking at.

“God you’re nasty,” you sigh in exasperation, but there’s a laugh hidden in there too. “Fine, fine, let’s see what else they got.”

San has finally reached you, standing behind the couch to look over your shoulder at the screen. His eyes widen as the veil of confusion lifts away, a surprised flush hitting his cheeks.

No, those are not apartment listings on your screen.

Those are sex toys.

Specifically, you and Wooyoung are looking at strap-ons.

“How about this kit?” Wooyoung asks, gesturing at the next one you scrolled to. “That looks promising.”

At first, your face lights up with interest, but it is quickly replaced by a grimace when you notice the cost. “Looks good but… might be a tiny bit out of my price range.”

“Our price range,” Wooyoung counters firmly. “Think of it as an investment for the future! What do you think, Sannie?”

“Um,” is the most eloquence response San can muster at this moment.

“Look look, it even comes with a few different dildos, see! And the harness is backless too,” Wooyoung says, eyebrows wiggling as he zooms in on one of the images.

The picture shows the back-view of a model wearing the harness, held into place by a supple-looking leather waistband and two elegant black straps wrapped around the upper thighs, snugly fitted just below the model’s completely exposed ass.

“…How’s the size? Is it adjustable?” you ask, not entirely convinced yet but slowly swayed by Wooyoung’s sales pitch.

San feels a heat crawl up to his face, and tugs at the neckline of his shirt as unbidden images float up in his mind of your ass in that harness. No, San definitely needs no further swaying. Fuck, his imagination sure is working overtime today. He’ll pay the whole damn thing out of his own pocket if the money is really a concern to you.

You nose through the product specifications, your face brightening at what you find. After that, it’s not long before the kit finds itself dropped into your shopping cart.

“Three days?” Wooyoung groans when he sees the shipping date, falling back into the couch miserably. “How am I supposed to wait that long?”

“Aw, you poor thing,” you coo teasingly, patting Wooyoung’s hair. “What a trial. What a tribulation.”

San grins when Wooyoung scoffs and grabs for your hand to get a bite in on your forearm. You yelp, unsuccessfully trying to fend him off. San lets the chaos entertain him for a moment, then he gently untangles you both. “Woo, I’m sure we can find a way to make the time go by faster,” he chuckles. “Like… how about you take a few days to think about what you’d like to happen once it’s here?”

Like magic, Wooyoung’s face instantly shifts to a thoughtful expression. “Well,” he says, tapping his bottom lip, “I do have a few ideas…”

Never one to be timid about his ideas, you naturally know the deepest, most intimate and depraved depths of Wooyoung’s fantasies by the time you have him on your knees in front of you.

You don’t need to see the hunger in his eyes as he stares up at you to know badly he wants this; don’t need to hear the breathless inhale when your fingers tangle into his hair, how his tongue eagerly darts out to wet his lips when you tug him forward — pushing the tip of your strap right against those plump lips.

Because you already know that is exactly what Wooyoung wants. To take your cock down his throat and choke on it.

The weight of the black, silicone dildo hanging between your legs is unfamiliar, a little awkward even, but the harness is more comfortable than you expected.

You’d stayed a bit concerned about the fit until the discreetly packaged arrived, but after fiddling with some adjustments you could breathe easily. The leather now sits perfectly around your waist, and the black straps don’t dig painfully into your thighs like you’d feared, instead framing your ass in a way that must be extremely flattering to say the least — if the way San’s eyes keep trailing back to them is anything to go by.

However, for now San’s gaze is fixed on Wooyoung.

San sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread lazily and leaned back with his hands resting on the mattress, making no effort to touch Wooyoung even though he is within arm’s reach. Head slightly tilted, he watches intently how Wooyoung’s lips part as the silicone cock is pushed past them.

Wooyoung wastes no time, sinking down with a muffled groan. Messily he sucks and laps at the strap, low moans and wet noises drifting upward. You let out a blissful sigh at the view, his pretty lips stretched around your cock. He blinks up at you as he somehow manages to grin even with his mouth stuffed, his dark eyes shiny with impatience and need.

“Little more, Woo. I know you can give me more,” you hum, running your hand through his hair. “Show me how hungry you are for my cock before I fuck you with it.”

“Mmh—”

Wooyoung eagerly follows your lead when you guide his head up and down, taking you deeper and deeper with minimal encouragement. He never holds back, treating your strap like it’s a real cock; and through his pure unbridled enthusiasm, you sink away into the illusion.

Your breaths grow heavier whenever Wooyoung pulls back to suckle indulgently at the tip, thick wet swipes of his tongue as he groans, his eyes fluttering shut every time you pull his hair to force your length down his throat again. Every pass of his mouth rubs the silicone dick’s rounded base against your cunt, and its strategically placed protrusion sends sparks through your core.

You start to roll your hips into him, chasing those sparks as Wooyoung’s head bobs to meet your shallow thrusts. It’s not long before he gags around you with an obscene gurgle, a thin trail of drool escaping past the corner of his lips. Instinctively you freeze, but Wooyoung shakes his head and whines. His cheeks are flushed, a watery gleam brimming in his eyes as he stares up at you, wordlessly begging you to keep fucking his throat.

“Aw, he’s tearing up already,” San chuckles, leaning forward so he can grasp Wooyoung’s chin. “Looks so pretty with cock between his lips, doesn’t he? That smart mouth stuffed full, working so hard to please you.”

Wooyoung lets out another whine at San’s praise, only more worked up by the edge of condescension in his voice.

“Sweet babygirl,” you grin fondly. “Come, make Sannie feel good too. Can you do that for me?”

Wooyoung makes a noise, immediately reaching for San, who guides Wooyoung’s hand to wrap around his cock. He groans lowly, his back arching ever so slightly at Wooyoung’s practised strokes.

“Good boy,” San sighs, a lazy smile on his lips. “Now, get back to sucking that cock properly, hm? Wanna see you choke on it.”

Wooyoung moans loudly, more drool spilling down his chin. He keens when you pull his hair a little harder; it’s all the reminder he needs to go back to gagging around your cock, meeting the roll of your hips as you fuck his face. He breaths harshly through his nose, struggling to control his breathing but never slowing down, taking your strap down his throat like a champ without ever neglecting San.

San’s chest is starting to heave as Wooyoung jerks him off, lips parted and eyes heavy-lidded. His low whine sears through you, as does the sight of his large hand leading Wooyoung’s to pump his leaking cock. Wooyoung revels in how he’s being used, teary eyes drifting shut as he fades away into a cockdrunk haze.

“San?” you say in a strained voice, more affected by the strap’s base gentle rubbing against your clit than you expected. (Or maybe the growing pressure in your core has more to do with Wooyoung, with seeing him like this.) “I think it’s time.”

Wooyoung’s eyes peek open at the sound of your voice, shimmering wetly with unshed tears. (…Yep, that definitely helps.)

“Yeah, it’s time,” San agrees, his voice equally strained.

He guides Wooyoung’s hand down to the base of his cock, to give it a squeeze just to take the edge off. Then he moves to kneel behind Wooyoung, who almost sobs in anticipation when San grabs two handfuls of his plump ass, spreading the cheeks apart.

Wooyoung whimpers around your cock, his hands grasping at your thighs for something to anchor him while San removes a modestly-sized plug that was warming Wooyoung up for this moment. You pat his hair reassuringly, cooing soft praises at Wooyoung, who groans as San’s lubed up fingers breach his rim to loosen him up a little further. San presses a soft, lingering kiss on Wooyoung’s shoulder and moves his fingers just as gently, gradually picking up speed.

You know San is not avoiding Wooyoung’s prostate when he jerks violently, the strap slipping out of his mouth, no longer muffling his loud whines. “F-fuck, right there, r-right there, Sannie…” he moans weakly, rocking back into San’s fingers.

Clumsily, Wooyoung grabs at the strap to try and stuff it back into his mouth. The tip catches against his cheek first, smearing a thick streak of saliva across his face. You sigh contently when Wooyoung keeps his hand around the silicone cock, rubbing the pleasing protrusion at the base firmly against your cunt as he wraps his swollen lips around its length.

“Still kinda tight… Relax, babe,” San grunts, curling his fingers in a way that has Wooyoung let out a throttled mewl. He runs his free hand soothingly over Wooyoung’s back. “Ahh, no wonder you’re tense,” he purrs. “Gonna be your first time getting fucked by two cocks like this, isn’t it? You’re such a greedy, perfect cockslut that it’s easy to forget you never took more than one at once. Just doesn’t seem right… those pretty holes were made to be used and ruined by some good dick.”

Tears escape Wooyoung’s lashes as he gurgles around your strap, his motions getting shakier with every filthy word from San, trembling harder with every thrust of San’s fingers. His own cock looks achingly hard, flushed a deep red and twitching, precum beading at the tip.

“Careful, Woo,” you gently chide him. “You’re not allowed to cum until I’m fucking you properly.”

Wooyoung whimpers, trimmed nails digging into your thigh as he desperately holds back from reaching down to bring himself relief.

A dangerous grin flashes across San’s lips as he also realises just how close Wooyoung is. “Oh? The cockslut can’t even wait until he’s stuffed full the way he should be? Are you gonna fall apart on just my fingers?”

“Mhh hm—”

Wooyoung can’t get his muffled noises of denial past his obstructed throat. He tries his best to obey your instruction, but San does nothing to make it easier on him.

Instead San’s wrist snaps harshly, the squelch of lube obscenely loud. His eyes are sharp and filled with dark intent, watching how Wooyoung shudders and whines, pushed closer and closer to his limit—

You can see the exact moment Wooyoung realises his efforts to hold back are futile, his eyes going wide a split second before he convulses, inadvertently pushing the strap down the back of his throat again. San’s free hand is on Wooyoung’s cock in a heartbeat, making sure he spills messy splatters of cum on San’s fingers and his own chest.

Wooyoung pants for air, spluttering and coughing when you pull the strap from his mouth. “S-sorry, I didn’t— didn’t mean to—” He babbles a rushed apology, staring up at you with wet eyes, his face red and puffy.

“Shh, it’s alright,” you hush him, going down on your knees so you can cradle his face, brushing your thumbs over tear-streaked cheeks. “Tried so hard, didn’t you?”

“Hm-hm,” he whines in agreement.

“Our pretty babygirl just gets overwhelmed so fast, doesn’t he?” you hum, pressing small pecks on his cock-swollen lips. “So sensitive that a few fingers is all it takes.”

Wooyoung sniffs, nodding weakly. “Y-yeah.”

“Look at that, made a mess all over yourself,” you tease, catching some of the white essence dribbling down Wooyoung’s chest. “Not your fault it’s so easy to wreck you. That’s just who you are, isn’t it? A needy, desperate thing.”

He whines an unintelligible noise. For anyone else, your words might have been humiliating; but for Wooyoung, they set something inside him free. Not his fault; just his nature.

San slowly kisses up Wooyoung’s neck, rubbing his shaky arms. It’d almost be sweet, if not for the satisfied curve of San’s lips. He’s gotten Wooyoung exactly where he wants him. “It’s okay, Woo,” he says, playfully nipping at his earlobe. “You can make it up later.”

Wooyoung’s attempt at answering is smothered by San’s mouth with a sudden, hard kiss. Your breath catches at his intensity, fervid and hungry. Just the sight of San and Wooyoung entangled alone is always enough to make your toes curl; from their shared, sensual passion, to the simple beauty of their contrasted features, the striking delicacy of Wooyoung melting into San’s masculine solidness.

You could watch them forever like this, but San does not allow you to be their spectator for long. Without even breaking the kiss, he reaches out to tug at your arm, pulling you into them. You go willingly.

Wooyoung welcomes you with a soft whine as you nip and suck at his neck, the split-glistened strap pressing against his half-hard cock. He proves himself every bit the desperate, needy thing that you called him, turning his head to switch between kissing you and San, groaning against your lips as he’s engulfed with heated attention from two ends. Breathlessly he gasps between kisses, trembling while you and San slowly leave a tapestry of hickeys and bitemarks over his neck and shoulders.

It’s when he starts to rock his hips, grinding back against San, that you reach for his dick. It’s still partially soft, still sensitive from cumming earlier. Wooyoung jerks into your grasp, his loud, keening whine stifled by San’s tongue down his throat. Fresh tears spill down Wooyoung’s cheeks as he shakes his head, his hand weakly clinging onto your arm — but his body tells a different story entirely, his spine arching as he contorts with overwhelming pleasure.

You are captivated, your tongue dragging over his wet cheek as you chase an instinct to lick up his tears. “Yeah, you can take it,” you murmur by his ear, making sure to keep a steady pace with your hand. “Want you hard and leaking when I finally fuck you. You owe us that much, don’t you think? Or is our babygirl going to disappoint me again?”

Wooyoung whimpers, head falling back against San’s shoulders. “C-can take it,” he slurs, now openly rocking his hips to fuck up into your hand.

San’s eyes blaze as he watches you exert your control over Wooyoung. Once your hand has settled into a rhythm, San firmly pulls you close again, capturing you in a hard kiss this time. Heatedly he explores the familiar crevices of your mouth while Wooyoung squirms and mewls between you, jaw slackening and eyes rolling back.

Your cunt aches at Wooyoung’s noisy writhing, and you press a gentle hand against San’s shoulder to push him back.

He begrudgingly parts from your lips, breathing hard. Focus slowly returns to his eyes as he grins down at Wooyoung’s wrecked state. “He’s ready?”

“I think so,” you hum, gently cradling Wooyoung’s cheeks. “What do you say, Wooyoungie, ready to take my cock?”

Wooyoung nuzzles at your palm, the rise and fall of his chest slowly steadying. “Ready,” he sighs with a languid smile, tinged with anticipatory excitement. “Want it… want your cock so bad, want you to fuck me…”

You giggle, bumping your forehead against his. “Good boy,” you praise, and leave a light peck on his nose. “Then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Almost effortlessly, San lifts a squirmy Wooyoung on his feet, then onto the bed, manoeuvring him onto all fours.

Wooyoung moans when you run a hand over the sweet curve of his ass, peeking over his shoulder to look at you. You knead at his cheeks, staring intently at how lube has has trickled out his stretched hole, down to his thighs. It’s all too tempting to dive in and lap it up, to tease him with your tongue and sink your teeth into that pretty ass, but you doubt Wooyoung has much patience left in him — and neither do you, for that matter.

“San?” you ask, nudging at the container of lube to reapply a fresh layer. San grabs the bottle; but instead of handing it over to you, he just grins and slides up behind you.

Generously he slicks up his own hand, and your breath hitches as San reaches around to lube up the strap for you. There is something unexpectedly sensual about his big hand gliding over the length of your silicone cock, firm strokes that have you instinctively rocking into his touch, like you can feel him.

Wooyoung lets out an impatient whine. “Please…” he begs, wiggling his ass at you, and you decide he’s been forced to wait long enough.

You softly tap San’s arm, at which he retreats to rest his sticky hand on your waist instead. He hums when you press a soft kiss of gratitude on his lips, and then you turn your full attention back to Wooyoung.

He shudders when the silicone cockhead presses at his entrance, then slowly sinks in.

It’s not the biggest dildo that came with the kit, not quite matching San in thickness, but you preferred to start out with a size that you know Wooyoung can handle. Still, it’s girth is satisfying enough with a nice upward curve, and a subtly ribbed shaft that’s already doing a number on Wooyoung, if the way his fingers dig into the sheets is any indication.

“Oh fuck,” he grits out, eyes clenched shut.

You take your time to bottom out, making sure you can do so comfortably, and Wooyoung comes apart further with every slow inch. His arms buckle, falling onto his elbows when your thighs press against his ass, fully buried inside his tight hole. He pants hard, fingers digging into the sheets.

“Please please please,” he babbles, “oh fuck please move, please fuck me already, fuck—”

“Hm, I think he likes taking your cock,” San observes dryly, a mocking lilt in his voice. He reaches around you to give Wooyoung’s ass a light smack, grinning when Wooyoung whines harder in response. “Yeah, he likes it.”

You don’t react with more than a sound of acknowledgement; too focused on the roll of your hips, too taken in by Wooyoung’s choked noises as you finally take mercy, the ribbed strap gliding in and out at a steady pace.

In a way, the rhythmic motion of thrusting into Wooyoung is intimately familiar, yet also entirely new. You’ve fucked Wooyoung with a toy before, sure, but the simple snap of your hand doesn’t compare to the physicality of using almost your entire body to bury your cock into him. Your arms tense as you hold onto his hips to keep him steady, your thighs and core muscles flex to buck against his ass over and over again.

(Already you can tell that you need to conserve your energy, not wanting to wear yourself out before Wooyoung is a sobbing ruin, utterly wrecked and completely sated.)

Wooyoung gasps and whines with every thrust, his fists tightening into the sheets — but despite his obvious pleasure, a tendril of frustration flicks at you; you’ve seen Wooyoung in the throes of depraved passion often enough to know you’re not hitting the spot that will obliterate him, not in the way San can. You try to adjust, searching for his prostate, but it’s trickier when you can’t actually feel inside him, and your efforts only seem to make your thrusts more awkward.

San puts his hand on your waist when he realises you are getting in your own way, squeezing reassuringly. His breath falls on your ear as he guides your motions, easing your hips into a smooth roll that soon has Wooyoung let out a pitched cry, his entire body jolting.

“That’s it,” San rasps in satisfaction, letting you move on your own again, “that’s how you fuck that tight hole. Look at you making such a pretty mess of Wooyoungie, all cockdrunk on you.”

Wooyoung keens at the praise, whimpering every time you hit that sweet spot.

You can’t help a moan of your own, a hot wire thrumming through your core — that only grows sharper when San’s hands wander down to your ass. At first he just lightly squeezes, but soon he takes full advantage of the harness’ open back, spreading your cheeks apart to expose you to the cool air. His thumbs inch inward; one is still covered with a remnant of lube, slowly circling your sensitive rim.

Your breath hitches at the unexpected touch, making you buck harder into Wooyoung. His voice breaks with every snap of your hips, “Hngh, ah ah—” hiccuped moans spilling past his lips.

San grins, his thumb resting against your entrance, never quite pressing inside. “Fucking him so well, baby,” he groans, lazily sucking a wet patch into your neck. “Tell her, Wooyoung. Tell her how well she’s fucking you.”

“S-so well,” Wooyoung sobs, clawing at the sheets. “Fucking me so well…”

His garbled cries burn through you, the heat inside your core stoked by his writhing, desperate state. So pliant, so willing to surrender himself to you.

However, your thighs burn for another reason entirely; muscles straining with the effort of fucking Wooyoung into this mindless stupor. You slow the roll of your hips, giving yourself a breather while enjoying Wooyoung’s pitiful whines of protest maybe a little too much.

“But this is not enough for you, is it?” you hum, rubbing your hand over the small of Wooyoung’s sweat-slicked back. “You want Sannie’s cock too, to have that clever mouth used again like it should be.”

San lets out a raspy chuckle as Wooyoung nods frantically. “I don’t know, baby, our Wooyoungie looks like he might be at his limit. You sure he can take us both?”

Wooyoung squirms in frustration. “I can, Sannie, you know I can,” he snivels. “Please, want it, want it, San-ah—!”

He jolts when San smacks his ass again, whining loudly as he burrows his face into the bed.

With that, San moves away from you, his fingers digging into the curve of your rear as he goes. Wooyoung moans weakly when San sits on his knees in front of him, clasping Wooyoung’s chin between thumb and index finger to lift his head.

“Then prove it,” San says coolly, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Show us what a good cockslut you are.”

Wooyoung shivers at the dismissive tone of San’s challenge, like he isn’t expecting all that much. He shakily pushes himself up on his hands, biting down a groan at how your strap rubs up against his insides. One last glance over his shoulder, while he still can, drinking in the sight of you with hungry, tear-filled eyes.

And a glorious sight you are, shiny drops of sweat beading down the valley of your chest, heaving from exertion. Both of you completely enraptured by this new experience, the new sensations that come with it. The ribbed dildo feels amazing, better than Wooyoung dared hope — but far more than that, he is on the brink because it’s you, you fucking that toy into him.

You catch his gaze, biting your lip at the contact. “Remember, Woo,” you say, voice tight, “remember the signal if I’m too rough on you.”

Wooyoung lets out a hoarse chuckle, giving you the widest, dirtiest grin he can muster. Too rough? On him? Fuck, how are you blowing his back out and still manage to be this adorable? “Sure, will do,” he rasps, tapping San’s thigh in demonstration of the nonverbal sign.

San grasps onto Wooyoung’s chin again, yanking him back. He taps the head of his cock against Wooyoung’s cheek, leaving a trail of precum, exactly where your strap smeared saliva across his face earlier.

“C’mon, Woo,” San says, still giving him that unimpressed look, the one that makes Wooyoung squirm without fail, “do you want this cock down your throat or not?”

Wooyoung’s breath instantly shallows, his jaw relaxing on instinct. He groans in bliss as San nudges the flushed tip past his swollen lips, sinking home. Your hips move in a slow roll and Wooyoung lets himself get swept away by the rhythm, taking San deeper inch by inch.

His mind goes blank, lost in the toe-curling slide of your strap, the hefty weight of San on his tongue — fuck, he loves sucking that fat cock. How the thickness of it strains his jaw, but within manageable levels after all the countless practise he’s enjoyed. He’s proud of that, how his gag reflex has faded to a mere afterthought, only brought back to the forefront when he’s caught off guard (and even then, it’s good). Proud of the cracks in San’s unaffected facade that Wooyoung breaks through with nothing but the tightness of his throat and his skilful tongue.

Right now though, you’re making it harder for Wooyoung to use that tongue to its full potential. Every rough thrust jostles him, pushes San’s dick deeper without any room for skill, reducing Wooyoung to nothing but a cocksleeve to be used. (San does not seem to mind, his groans low and breathy.)

He whimpers as you slam into him without mercy, his aching cock slapping against his stomach with a lewd smacking sound, drawing sharp jolts of pleasure. You’ve well and truly honed in on his sweet spot now, pressure building up and up and up until Wooyoung feels like he’s clawing at the ceiling. San’s hand rests on Wooyoung’s throat, squeezing with only a gentle pressure to keep him steady as he’s split open from two ends; an overwhelming barrage of sensations that goes beyond feeling ‘full’. Wooyoung feels whole.

Desperately he moans around San’s cock with a muffled, pathetic sob, the world blurring out of focus. One brush of a hand against his throbbing dick and he’d be done for, he’s sure of it; but despite cumming untouched earlier, now that edge stays just out of reach. Trapping Wooyoung at the height of pleasure with nowhere to come down.

He’s whimpering, body trembling under the unending onslaught. Too much, some might cry out — but not Wooyoung, never Wooyoung.

No, for him it is perfect. He stopped believing in ‘too much’ long ago, after he heard enough of those two words in his life. That he talks too much, wants too much, gives too much, is too much.

But here, between these two hearts, he is exactly right.

Addled memories flood through his dizzied thoughts, physical pleasure blurring into intense emotion.

With San, Wooyoung knew it from the very start; an unshakeable certainty within moments of their first meeting. San has always embraced his chaotic energy, soaking it up like a sponge and giving back to Wooyoung in equal measure. Making it easy for Wooyoung to throw himself into their relationship with what some might call reckless abandon — but San never dropped him. He is never too much for San.

Wooyoung had been too much for you, once. Crashing head-first into your boundaries back when he kissed you; pushing too hard because he did not want to be pushed away. But it only brought you closer, seeking out the places where you can meet each other; where Wooyoung can be himself without compromise without compromising you. Where Wooyoung can taste the word ‘love’ in his mouth and see you light up with joy, the same joy that you and San give him in turn.

No, he’ll never be too much for you either. He knows that now.

Wooyoung lets out a hoarse, garbled cry at a hard hit of your cock against his prostate, breaking him out of his hazy thoughts and right back to the present, back in the middle of your and San’s heated attention and affection. Right where Wooyoung thrives.

Fuck, he’s light-headed. He feels like he’s floating, vaguely hears praise drift to him from both sides. Good boy. Taking it so well. That’s what those pretty holes are good for. He’s drowning in it, barely feeling his body anymore, only the pleasure buzzing through him.

He slowly realises San’s fingers are tangled through his hair, helping his head stay up.

Wooyoung moans indulgently, blinking up at him. He can only imagine what a mess San is looking at; Wooyoung can feel the wetness of spittle and tears trailing down his cheeks, his chin, even his throat. Fuck, he wishes you could see it too, what a fucking pathetic wreck he is for you both.

San makes a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a groan as he looks down on Wooyoung. “Cockdrunk,” he says, his grin sharp. “Completely wasted. Can you even handle my load or are you too fucked out to swallow?”

Immediately Wooyoung whines in protest. He can do it, he can do anything for you and San. Doesn’t want San to pull out, doesn’t want you to stop moving, not yet not now not ever. He swallows around San’s cockhead, messily lavishing his tongue against the twitching shaft.

You giggle breathily at Wooyoung’s enthusiasm, squeezing at his hip. “Now San, don’t underestimate our Wooyoungie,” you playfully admonish him. “This is what he’s made for. He can take it.”

Yes yes yes. Agreement sings through Wooyoung as he humps back against you in gratitude. You get it. You understand.

San grunts at the stifled moans around his cock, Wooyoung’s increased efforts causing him to hiss sharply through gritted teeth. He can’t last much longer, his fingers tightening in Wooyoung’s hair, breath going pitchy as his hips jerk.

Wooyoung groans when San’s cock twitches in his mouth, hot sticky ropes of cum hitting his tongue. Maybe he is a little too fucked out after all, some seed trickling down his chin as he struggles to gulp down every drop with lewd, wet noises.

San pants harshly as he slips out, pumping himself with quick strokes to wrest as much as he can for Wooyoung to take. Finally he wipes the tip on Wooyoung's glossy lips, then nudges him to turn his head and give you a proper view. Your sharp moan lances through Wooyoung's painfully hard cock — but distress takes over when you slow down.

So close, he was so close oh god you can’t stop now. Wooyoung sobs pitifully, wiggling his hips as he babbles his wretched pleas.

Your cunt throbs at his desperation, his face flushed red and shiny with bodily fluids. Equal parts guilt and arousal sear through you at the unintentional denial, but fuck your thighs are burning. (Today has given you a whole new appreciation for San's muscle strength.)

“Shh, it’s okay, just want you to ride me,” you hum, stroking his quivering thigh. “Wanna see that beautiful face when you cum, can you do that for me, Wooyoungie?”

He lets out another choked up sob but nods frantically, whimpering when you pull out to lay down. Shakily he moves to sit in your lap, helped by San’s steady hold. Wooyoung whines in relief when you fill him up again, after a fresh coating of lube. He groans at the new angle, throwing his head back.

You rub your hands up and down his thighs, letting your eyes wander over him; his sweat-slicked torso, the veins pulsing in his shaky arms, cock leaking against his stomach. You lightly wrap your fingers around it, causing Wooyoung to stutter out a surprised “Ah—!”

“Go ahead, Woo. Show me,” you tell him breathily, bucking your hips up. “Show me how badly you want to cum on my cock.”

Wooyoung does not need to be told twice. He leans back to brace his hands on your legs, arching his back. The roll of his hips starts slow, easing himself into it, but soon you can see his lithe muscles rippling as he bounces in your lap. There is no restraint in him, his face contorted with pleasure as he whines, gasping every time you buck your hips to meet his. He looks utterly deprived. He is perfect.

San curls up next to you on his side, sluggish in the wake of his own orgasm. He pecks at your shoulder, tracing lazy circles on your stomach, close to where Wooyoung fucks into your hand as he moves. “You haven’t cum yet, have you?” San murmurs, his hot breath fanning across your skin.

“N-not yet,” you admit, “but—”

But fuck, you are getting close.

It’s been a long, slow build-up with the base of the strap rubbing against your cunt; not always catching your clit just right, but you have a bit more control now that you’re laying down, to wiggle or guide Wooyoung’s hips. More than that, you are so deeply mesmerised by Wooyoung that his pleasure might as well be your own. Fucking himself seemingly tireless even though he’s gasping for breath, surely reaching his limit. His whiny sobs sear through you, your own breath catching in your throat as you slowly, inevitably, begin to tilt over.

San lets out a low, rumbling chuckle, and slings an arm over you to leisurely play with one of your tits. The light pecks on your shoulder turn to insistent, open-mouthed kisses as San sucks wet bruises into your skin. You bite down a whine as he thumbs at your nipple, your hips bucking up harder into Wooyoung. You move your hand quicker, stubborn to drag Wooyoung right down with you.

“God, look at you,” you groan, straining to get the words out, “look so pretty, crying on my cock.”

Wooyoung makes a strangled noise. “’Cause— ‘cause it feels so good,” he chokes out. “Y-you—” but whatever else he wants to say is drowned out by breathless, high-pitched moans.

You use your last shreds of energy to piston the strap harder into Wooyoung, jostling him in your lap. His body bows forward, hands scrambling to grab onto your shoulders, almost knocking San in the face. San nips at Wooyoung’s wrist, but easily readjusts by latching his mouth onto your breast instead.

You tense up, hips stuttering as you curse under your breath — and then San’s teeth sink into the soft, sensitive flesh, biting down. The pain jolts through you like a catalyst, your peak rushing at you; you try to stave it off, try to get Wooyoung there first, but that only makes it chase you faster. The force of it rips through your nerve endings, your nails digging into Wooyoung’s waist as you finally topple over with a ragged cry. Your toes curl almost painfully, body trembling as white-hot sparks fray your senses.

Your eyes try to squeeze shut but you force them open, gasping breathless moans as you stare up at Wooyoung; intent on seeing him succumb before you can fully come down from your own high.

His abdominal muscles flex with tension, his thighs clenching as he threatens to lose his rhythm. You shakily pick up the pace with your hand, sliding over the slick length of his cock. Wooyoung keens and weakly ruts against your strap, keeping constant pressure on your still-twitching cunt. San’s fingers wrap around yours, helping you to keep moving while you squirm from the relentless waves rippling through you.

Wooyoung lets out a throttled whine, doubling over as he unravels, spilling a hot and sticky mess all over your fingers and stomach. Your grip on him weakens, but San forces you to keep moving, milking Wooyoung for everything he’s got until he’s shaking uncontrollably on top of you, sobbing out pathetic whimpers.

When San finally takes mercy and lets go, Wooyoung crumples on top of you with a tired moan. The dildo slips out as he burrows himself in your arms, uncaring for the watery strings of cum smeared between your bodies.

“Oh fuck… that was… ‘s was fucking amazing…” he mumbles, nuzzling against your chest.

You giggle tiredly, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Yes? Did we make a good investment into our future with this one?”

“Mhn…” Wooyoung makes a vague noise of affirmation. He seems about ready to pass out, but there’s still a dazed smile on his face when San tips up his chin. “Good, yeah…”

San’s lips curl into a fond smile, chuckling when Wooyoung grouses at being manoeuvred just enough so San can take the harness off of you. He sets the glistening dildo aside for later cleaning, then gives your worn-out cunt an affectionate pat. You whine even at the light touch, but sigh contently when his warm hands massage your sore thighs. Fuck, you’re going to have one hell of a muscle-ache tomorrow.

San grins at your pained expression. “Wanted to see Wooyoung ride you, hm?” he teases. “No other reason for changing that up, I’m sure.”

“What are you insinuating, Choi San?” you grumble, half-heartedly rolling your eyes.

He laughs, continuing to work your aching muscles. “Nothing, nothing! Just… are you sure you don’t want to join me at the gym sometime?”

You make a face at him, at the same time that Wooyoung pipes up, “Nu-uh. If you need an extra workout, you can just fuck me some more.”

“…That does sound like a lot more fun than a gym membership,” you accede. “Sorry, San.”

San chuckles, shaking his head. “Can’t argue with that. C’mon, let’s get that mess cleaned up,” he says, nudging Wooyoung to roll off of from you with a groan.

You take the wet-wipes that San offer you, and clean the dried crusts of cum on Wooyoung’s stomach. His eyes are half-lidded and he hums weakly when you stroke his cheek; you suspect he’ll doze off for real soon.

“Hm, would be nice if we could find a place that has a bathtube,” you sigh wistfully as you start to clean yourself, yearning for the comfort of a warm soak right now. “Though I guess it’d be hard to find one that fits all three of us.”

“I like that,” San smiles while he tugs a blanket over Wooyoung to make sure he doesn’t get cold. “We’ll make it work somehow. We always do.”

“Stacked on top of each other?” you suggest playfully.

San pouts. “I’d feel bad for whoever is at the bottom,” he says, utterly earnest — and you’d tease him for it, if your heart didn’t burst with affection at his simple, straightforward consideration.

Wooyoung, however, has no such hangups. “Then it has to be you, I guess,” he mumbles with a tired grin.

San’s pout intensifies into a sulk, but his face instantly softens when Wooyoung tugs at his and your wrists, wanting you closer. Soon Wooyoung is snuggled up in the middle, embraced from both sides. He groans happily at the gentle kisses San presses against his neck, the featherlight brush of your fingertips over his cheek, your arm slung lazily around him.

You catch San’s eyes while Wooyoung dozes off, warmth glowing in your chest at his dimpled smile. He reaches over Wooyoung to rest his hand on your waist, always in need of those little physical threads of connection. You shift your leg to weave another thread, hooking your ankle around his shin. The three of you fitting together perfectly.

“Come on, go talk to him then,” Wooyoung sighs at you in exasperation, one hand on his hip, the other holding a spatula as he waves you off. “You’ve been nosy about him for ages, now you got your chance and you’re in here distracting me instead? No ma’am, get your fine ass out there.”

“But—”

Wooyoung gives you no time for excuses, grabbing your shoulders from behind and forcibly ushering you out of the kitchen, to the living area. To San, and to the guy San’s talking to.

The ever-illusive, long awaited friend, finally back in town.

Jeong Yunho.

Honestly, you don’t even know why you’re nervous about this. It’s not like Yunho is the first close friend of San and Wooyoung that you’ve met; you’ve even talked to him before! Just over voice chat, saying ‘hi’ when San or Wooyoung are gaming with him, but still!

Wooyoung’s photographs have even prepared you for his ridiculously handsome face (seriously, why are all of their friends like this?!), but you’re still caught off guard by his physical presence. It’s not just his height, though that’s definitely a factor. Just something about the way he stands in the room, his posture relaxed with an easy confidence. Really, Yunho shouldn’t be intimidating; he oozes kindness and reliability, the type of guy who personally makes sure you get home safe after having one drink too many at the bar.

Maybe it’s the glances he’s been casting your way. Something in his thoughtful expression makes you feel like he’s carefully taking your measure. Seizing up if you’re right for his friends.

…Or maybe it’s not that deep, and you simply are anxious about making a good impression. After all, this is the guy who helped San to work through his insecurities, and even introduced him to Wooyoung. Without him, you’d never have ended up in this cosy arrangement with them.

While you cautiously go up to him and San, Wooyoung calls out from the kitchenette.

“Oi, Sannie, can you help me out with something!”

Oh, that bastard.

You look over your shoulder to fire a glare at Wooyoung, but he just grins back at you. You roll your eyes, sigh out those nerves, and go over to Yunho. San gives you a wink as he walks past, and also gives your ass a light smack. Yeah. Figures.

Yunho’s big brown eyes shine with curiosity as you approach him.

“So. You’re San and Wooyoung’s… friend, right?” he says, with the slightly hesitant tone of someone who knows he’s dealing with a square hole but only has round pegs to try and fit in there. “Nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Yeah, same,” you smile back at him, internally cursing Wooyoung into the special circle of hell reserved for backstabbing traitors. “And ‘friend’ is not inaccurate, no,” you allow, trying for a shy grin. “We’re still workshopping it out! The latest idea was that I call the guys my ‘umbrellas’, but… yeah. Maybe a little more time in the workshop for that one.”

“Umbrellas?” Yunho blinks in confusion, but it only takes a split second before understanding breaks out on his face. “Ahh, got it — ‘Woosan’.” He giggles, hiding his mouth behind his hand. You can’t lie; it’s pretty dang cute. “San came up with that one, didn’t he?”

“He did!” you giggle with Yunho, the shared laugh helping you to relax. “Was real proud of it too!”

With the discovery of a common ground between you (a penchant for lovingly poking fun at San and Wooyoung), you loosen up and fall into light conversation. His laugh is easy and his jokes are playful, and it’s soon obvious to you why the guys are so attached to him.

Apparently Yunho is coming to a similar conclusion about you, eyeing you with a thoughtful expression.

“You know, to be honest I was surprised to hear San and Wooyoung wanted to try something with a third. Really surprised,” he chuckles awkwardly, scratching his cheek. “San was pretty clear he wanted a closed relationship. But… yeah. I can see it. Makes sense.”

He nods, and something has softened in his eyes while he talked. Suddenly you have the distinct impression that you weren’t wrong for feeling like Yunho was taking your measure.

A small smile curves around your lips at Yunho’s simple observation, your eyes glancing to the kitchenette where San is ‘helping’ Wooyoung by stealing food and getting in his way. “I mean, none of us really planned for me to stick around like this,” you point out, feeling oddly timid. “We didn’t plan for any of this to shake out this way. It just… did.”

Yunho hums in acknowledgement. “Yeah, that’s just how things go sometimes, isn’t it,” he says, his smile crooked. “Well, whatever you end up calling this, they seem real happy with how it’s going. If they’re your umbrellas, what’d that make you? Their parka?” he teases.

“Oh hell no!” you splutter. “Veto, veto! Don’t you dare put that idea into their heads, I’d rather make do without any labels at all, thankyouverymuch!”

“Alright, I won’t!” Yunho giggles again at your indigence, round cheeks lifted by his laugh. “Label or no label, whichever way works for you, right? And clearly this works.”

You glance at San and Wooyoung again, bubbles of warmth popping in your chest at the sight of them. San has abandoned all pretence at being helpful, his chest pressed against Wooyoung’s back and arms wrapped around his waist, trying to smooch him while Wooyoung is completely focused on the food.

San is the one who sees you watching them first, his cheeks dimpling at you in a soft smile. Wooyoung quickly notices San’s attention wandering, but his vaguely offended expression fades when he catches your eye, replaced by a cheeky grin. (Ugh fine, yes his stupid little plan worked.)

“Yeah, it works,” you say quietly to Yunho, feeling San and Wooyoung’s affection wrap around you even all the way from the other side of the room. It really does.

[charlotteking23]

The Lion's Lamb - Chapter 5 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The Lion's Lamb Series: Aesthetics, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.6

You were not the one to complain.

You knew the life you lived was one many dreams of having. As an American, you grew up hearing stories about the American Dream, but your dreams lay elsewhere.

The United States had beautiful places, cities, and people, but you felt your inspiration was elsewhere. So you left.

Your family wasn't happy about your plan, but if leaving was what made you happy, who were they to stop you?

For a year, you traveled around Europe, taking in the art and culture at every stop. Once you saw Monaco for the first time, you knew it would become your new home.

Moving there would cost money, and it was not in the price range of a struggling, traveling artist.

You had saved up as much money as possible, yet you still couldn't afford to buy, let alone rent an apartment.

You stayed not far outside the city-state and would often travel into Monaco when your work required it.

In doing so, you meet your saving grace and your worst nightmare: Amelia.

Amelia is your roommate. You often like to believe she is the devil reincarnated, but never voice your opinion because of what the girl's father is doing for you.

Amelia came from a prominent British family and her father, Michael, was a financial genius, making her more than well-off in life.

But the girl herself knew nothing of hard work, having had everything handed to her on a silver platter.

This caused her to become poisoned to the core in your opinion. She was a gorgeous girl, but her personality was nothing but ugly.

Many ask the young American girl, Why? Why would you live with someone you thought was terrible?

Getting a decent price rental in Monaco isn't the easiest. Most places are not affordable for a person in your income bracket, and the apartment complexes you could afford were designated for Monegasque citizens only.

And you haven't yet met the requirements to become a citizen. The young American girl met Amelia at an art show where she was being featured in Monaco.

Well, you had initially met the British girl's father, Michael, when he bought one of her pieces being displayed that night.

The two had immediately hit it off and it wasn't long until he offered you a room in his flat in Monaco.

They had developed a relationship, but not one many would expect from an older man and a younger girl.

He had seen you as a daughter and had hoped that in offering you a place to stay, your hardworking and sweet nature would rub off on his daughter.

Once you had moved in, Amelia immediately started bullying and belittling you. You couldn't figure out why you were being treated this way, but the British girl held a slight jealousy towards the younger girl.

Her father gave you a lot of attention and she knew that he wished you were his daughter rather than her.

You put up with her terrible behavior because her father was doing you a favor out of the goodness of his heart.

You had tried to make herself feel better about being there for free and tried to reduce the British girl's attitude towards you by cooking and cleaning, but that made it seem like you were the older girl's maid, and so you were treated as such.

Max had arrived home in the early hours of Monday morning. Usually, he would have gone out and celebrated his win with his team, but not this time.

Getting back to you, which was stuck in his mind, has become the most important thing to him.

Those around him didn't think twice about Dutchman, not attending the after-party, knowing, that even though he won, he always thought he could do better. This is mainly just due to his father. 

Jos Verstappen wasn't a good man and everyone knew that. He was an even worse father.

At a young age, he had drilled the idea into his son's head that there would always be someone better. 

"You will never be good enough," were the words that echoed through Max's head. 

He'd never been praised by his father, even after he won his first world championship. There was never a good job out of his father's mouth.

Because of this, the young driver had pushed himself. Not take a break, rarely celebrated, and devoted all of his attention to racing. Until now at least. 

Christian Horner knew the Dutchman better than most. He knew Max's parents and knew that the lack of childhood the boy had, had affected him greatly.

Don't get it twisted, most F1 drivers never had a normal childhood like everyone else, but Max's was much more extreme.

While the younger driver's father was present in his life, he still lacked the paternal figure he needed, and Christian filled that void. 

While it wasn't obvious to anyone else, the Redbull principal knew there was a certain pep in the driver's step after the race.

Usually after a race, Max is often seen with his head, buried in screens, analyzing every turn, every overtake, just trying to see what he needed to do to improve.

This time, that wasn't the case. Instead of immediately analyzing his race, he instead called someone.

No one had ever been able to take the driver's attention away from his job.

This immediately caught the attention of the British man.

He had seen the slight smile and the way his eyes lit up when speaking on the phone from across the paddock. He figured this wasn't just anyone Max was talking to, he knew this person had to be special.

The team principal knew how much stress his driver had been under recently, so to see him smile, even just a small one, made him extremely happy.

With how quickly the driver took off after their meetings, Christian knew there was a special someone in the young man's life.

The only hope was that this unknown girl brought the Dutch driver, the happiness he truly deserved. 

Early Monday afternoon, you received a text from your blue-eyed man.

7 PM dinner. I'll pick you up.

The text itself was straightforward and assertive, causing you to bite your lip and nervousness and excitement.

You were happy, though that he was true to his word about seeing you again. You just didn't expect it to be the day he came back home from a work trip.

You quickly responded with your address. You weren't the type to send your address to someone you had just met, especially someone she didn't know well, but this was different. Max was different

6:45 PM, and the knockhead resonated throughout the large apartment.

You quickly raced over to the front door, not only to keep your roommate away from the man who had caused your heart to skip a beat but also because you had missed him and couldn't wait to see him.

It was a strange feeling for you to miss someone, you barely knew, but you couldn't help it.

You knew he had been waiting on the other side of the door and you needed a moment to completely gather yourself. Your heart was racing as you wiped your clammy palms on the side of your dress.

You threw open your front door without a second thought, afraid that if you stood there any longer without opening the door, he would leave.

There he stood, on the other side of the door the most beautiful man, in your opinion, you have ever seen. He was wearing a white button-up, a simple blue blazer, and black slacks.

He emanated old money, and it wasn't a bad look on him at all. In his hands though, was a bouquet for the beautiful pink tulips.

You couldn't believe this man wanted to go out on a date with you.

"Hi," Max breathed out, holding out the flowers towards the girl in front of him, "these are for you."

In the blink of an eye, you had thrown yourself into the Dutchman's arms. He was surprised at this but responded to the hug almost instantly. Burring his face in your neck, feeling like, for the first time, he had finally found a home in your arms.

"I've missed you," the muffled voice said as your face was still buried in the driver's chest.

Chuckling, he pulled away regretfully and grabbed your chin tilted up towards him, "I've missed you, too, a little lamb."

Grinning, you looked down at the flowers in Max's hand before taking them, "these are beautiful."

A smile was plastered on your face as you walked inside to put the flowers in the vase. Max, followed after you but continued to linger in the entranceway, not wanting to intrude.

He watched as you continued to rummage through every single cabinet, trying to find a vase, or anything similar, so you could display the beautiful flowers.

You had been through all the cabinets before you finally sighed, realizing you'd have to go ask Amelia where they were. 

"Sorry," You had told the man in your doorway with an apologetic smile, "I have to ask my roommate where we keep the vases". 

Max had smiled back at you, reassuringly, not minding all as you walked down the visible hall before turning to face a closed door. Curiosity filled the man's mind as he watched his little lamb's entire body change.

Your shoulders had dropped, your steps had slowed, and the excitement you had held in your body just moments ago had completely evaporated.

He had found the answers he needed when he had overheard the conversation between you and your roommate. 

"Amelia," You said softly while knocking on the older girl's door.

"What!" the older girl responded with such harshness, that you were questioning how badly you needed the vase. 

"Do you know where the vases are?"

"God," the girl said exasperated and her words dripping with disgust, "How a

re you so fucking stupid that you can't find a simple thing like a vase?!"

"Sorry," you said meekly and started to turn away before you heard a voice that stopped you. 

"They're on top shelf in the cabinet above the fridge," Amelia stated. 

With a quick thanks, you quickly walked back to the kitchen, found the vase, and displayed the flowers, before telling Max you were ready to go. They left quickly after that. 

The ride to their date location was quiet. Usually, there was never any awkward tension between the two, but now, the car was filled with it.

You couldn't stop your hands from fidgeting, especially after noticing Max's hands white-knuckling the steering wheel as he drove. 

"We don't have to go on this date if you don't want to," You had finally broken the silence, not being able to sit there anymore, "I'm sorry if I did something wrong. I understand if you don't want to be around me anymore, you can just drop me back off if you'd like."

Before you could get another word out, Max quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road.

You thought that he didn't want to see you anymore, and he had pulled the car over as an indication that you should get out. Your eyes had started to water and your heart started to break. 

The Dutchman's head had whipped around to look at you so quickly, you were surprised he didn't get whiplash, "What are you talking about? Why would I want to drop you back off?"

"Well," You had started to play with your hands again, " you seem mad at me for some reason."

"Why would I ever be mad at you?" Max questioned with a soft voice. 

"Because I made you wait while I found a vase."

"Little Lamb," he had taken your hand in his, causing you to look up at him with those gorgeous eyes he adored, "I could never be mad at you."

"You're not mad?" You asked.

"I am mad, but not at you. Your roommate. The way she spoke to you had pissed me off. You never should be spoken to that way, no matter what."

Max had reached his hand up to caress your cheek softly. He wanted to make sure you knew that his anger wasn't directed at you.

He had been so upset with the way your roommate spoke to you, that he chose to keep his anger to himself instead of lashing out at you and possibly scaring his little lamb. In doing so, he hadn't realized that his sweet girl thought he had been upset with you.  

"You're beautiful, my little lamb," Max says, "Both inside and out. Please don't ever doubt yourself or my feelings towards you. 

A blush had erupted across your face, along with a shy smile. His words were nothing but sincere and you knew that. He quickly pulled you closer and left a quick kiss on your forehead, before turning back to the front of the car and continuing on their way. 

Max made sure to hold your hand the rest of the way. 

Taglist: @shelbyteller, @smithieandy, @fangirlforever2000, @herexpertcollector, @vip-access, @genevieve-blr

[infamous-light]

You Belong to Me Ch. 8

Alcina Dimitrescu x F! Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7

AO3: You Belong to Me

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu's obsession knows no bounds as she becomes increasingly possessive over you. Will you succumb to her dark embrace, or find a way to break free before it's too late?

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: Yandere, possessive/obsessive behavior

Your mind raced as you absorbed the message.

Could this be your way out?

The thought spiraled through your mind, igniting a flicker of hope deep within your chest. It was a chance – a slim one, fraught with danger and uncertainty – but a chance, nonetheless.

You stole a glance at Lady Dimitrescu, her elegant figure poised at her vanity, commanding the space around her. She focused intently on her reflection, her fingers moving with the precision of an artist as she applied the cream to her face.

Your own fingers trembled as you folded the note with as much discretion as you could muster, slipping it into your pocket. You took a deep breath, attempting to steady the storm of nerves swirling within you. Suddenly, Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze shifted from her reflection and locked onto yours through the mirror. Her eyes were sharp and penetrating, cutting through the air like a blade.

“Is something troubling you, dear? Your heart seems rather restless.” She inquired; her voice smooth but laced with concern.

Your stomach clenched in response to her words, the fear you were desperately trying to suppress bubbling dangerously close to the surface. You searched frantically for a plausible excuse – anything that might sound convincing enough to satisfy her. You swallowed hard, the action feeling monumental, as you fought to steady your voice and calm the tumultuous beating of your heart.

“I don't feel well, my Lady.” You managed to say, your words wobbly as they spilled from your lips.

You could hear the tremor in your own voice, and you hoped she would attribute it to your alleged illness. Lady Dimitrescu frowned, her eyes narrowing further as she scrutinized you from head to toe.

“You were feeling fine just a moment ago.” She remarked, her voice low and suspicious.

The tension hung in the air like a dark cloud, oppressive and foreboding. She turned in her seat, pivoting to face you fully. The fabric of her bathrobe rustled softly as it rode up to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her upper thighs. Her golden gaze, unnerving and intense, seemed to dissect you piece by piece, leaving you feeling raw and exposed. Your stomach churned violently, and for a moment, you thought you might actually get sick.

“I-I know. I thought I was,” you stammered, fighting to keep your composure. “But then a wave of nausea hit me, and I don’t really feel hungry anymore. The drug... it’s still affecting me.”

Fear gripped you so tightly at the thought of being caught with the hidden note that your hands began to shake. Before Lady Dimitrescu could open her mouth to respond, the plate slipped from your fingers, crashing to the floor in a shower of ceramic shards, scattering like the remnants of your fraying resolve. Lady Dimitrescu's eyes widened in surprise. The initial shock was quickly replaced by a simmering irritation that twisted her features into a dark scowl.

“I-I need to go to the bathroom. I think I'm going to be sick.” The words tumbled from your lips as panic surged within you.

With a sudden jolt, you sat up, your heart racing despite your weakened state. You forced yourself to move across the bedroom. The world around you twisted and blurred, dark shadows shifting into a disorienting backdrop that threatened to swallow you whole.

“Pet!”

Lady Dimitrescu's voice cut through the haze, a sharp command that made your skin prickle. The intensity of her gaze felt like a weight upon your back, yet you willed yourself to ignore her, pushing forward into the bathroom. You slumped against the cool porcelain of the sink, its unforgiving edge digging into your chest as you fought to draw in a single breath. Each inhalation felt like a struggle, your lungs constricted as panic took over, threatening to pull you under. You needed to escape this stifling place, to distance yourself from her.

Suddenly, a large shadow enveloped you.

“Pet,” Lady Dimitrescu said, her voice low and silky, as her hand reached out to cradle your jaw. The warmth of her palm contrasted sharply with the chill in the air, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “Look at me.”

She gently but firmly forced you to meet her gaze, turning your body with a grip that left no room for defiance. Her eyes pierced into yours, demanding your undivided attention.

“What has gotten into you? You reek of fear.” Lady Dimitrescu said, her voice slow and deliberate.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

There was no way you could confess about the note or how the maid had helped you earlier. Your brain desperately wracked for something, anything, that might divert her suspicion. Perhaps honesty was the best approach – though not the truth she sought. You hoped against hope that it would work.

“That’s because I am scared,” you began, your voice quivering. “I’m scared of you, your daughters – of this whole place! Being drugged and forced to be your pet, it’s all too much! I just want to go home! I miss my family!”

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you spoke, and you silently prayed that she would buy your explanation. Deep down, you meant every word. The fear, the confusion – they were painfully real. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though a flicker of hurt crossed Lady Dimitrescu’s face before she quickly masked it with her usual veneer of authority. 

“Such dramatics,” she said, annoyance threading her tone. “I understand that this transition is difficult for you, but you must embrace your new reality. In time, you will come to see that this is your home now. You belong to me, and you will adapt to this new life, whether you wish to or not.”

Relief washed over you, grateful that she had fallen for your half-truth. However, her words lingered, unsettling you. The notion of belonging to her, of being bound to this castle still made your skin crawl. She straightened up once more, releasing her grip on your jaw.

“Now, dry those tears and finish your breakfast,” she commanded, her voice carrying an edge of dismissal. “We don’t have all day.”

***

Currently, you sat across Lady Dimitrescu’s desk, your gaze fixed on a few documents laid out before you. The whole morning consisted of helping her go through her notes, meticulously analyzing every detail and ensuring nothing was overlooked. The task was mentally exhausting, each page filled with complex information that demanded your full attention.

As you shifted in your seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, Lady Dimitrescu's keen eye caught the movement. She paused her work, her eyes lingering on you for a moment before a small smile played on her lips.

“Perhaps we should take a break,” she suggested as she set her pen down. “I’ve had my fill of these reports. How about we pay a visit to the atelier?”

Your gaze snapped up in surprise. You had heard of the room during your first week here, but you’ve never stepped foot inside. Very few of the staff ever did. Her eyes locked onto yours, glimmering with a mischievous light that made your heart beat a little faster.

“The atelier?” You questioned; your curiosity piqued.

“Yes, I would like for you to see it,” Lady Dimitrescu continued. “The atelier is where I keep my more personal projects. I think you’ll find it quite... charming.” She rose from her chair with a fluid grace that seemed almost unnatural. “Come. There's much to show you, and I believe a change of scenery will do us both some good.”

***

You approached a heavy wooden door adorned with intricate carvings. As you drew closer, the elaborate designs came into sharper focus. The carvings depicted a lush, intertwining array of vines and flowers, each petal and leaf painstakingly carved with a level of skill that spoke of centuries-old craftsmanship.

You didn't have a chance to study it further as Lady Dimitrescu pushed the door open, the heavy wood moving effortlessly under her touch.

Inside, the atelier was a stunning contrast to the rest of the castle – a treasure trove of artistry and inspiration. The walls were lined with canvases draped in rich colors while some half-finished sketches were scattered about. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, its crystal pendants catching the light and casting a soft, golden glow that highlighted the finer details of all the artworks. And in the center, stood a large canvas, partially concealed by a heavy velvet drape.

“What do you think, pet?” Lady Dimitrescu said, her voice a low purr.

You stepped into the atelier; your senses overwhelmed by the vivid colors.

“It’s… beautiful.” You breathed, your eyes wide with wonder.

She hummed appreciatively. “Indeed. There is one piece in particular that is my favorite.” She gestured to that same large canvas in the middle. “Would you like to see it?”

You gave a brief nod. “Yes, my Lady.”

With a flourish, Lady Dimitrescu pulled back the drape, revealing a striking portrait of a woman – her features eerily reminiscent of your own. The painting captured every detail: the arch of the brows, the curve of the lips, the delicate contour of the cheekbones, but it was the eyes that held you captive. They sparkled with an otherworldly light, almost as if they were alive.

You could feel Lady Dimitrescu's gaze boring into you, scrutinizing every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. You swallowed hard, a chill creeping down your spine as you processed the painting.

“It looks… just like me.” You murmured, unable to tear your gaze away.

“Precisely.” Lady Dimitrescu said, stepping closer to you.

“Why?” You croaked, your voice sounding strained.

“There’s something about you that intrigues me,” she whispered. “Perhaps it’s fate that brought you to me.”

The corners of her lips curved upward, revealing a hint of her sharp, predatory teeth. The air grew heavy with tension, as if the very atmosphere around you had thickened.

“There’s so much more I want to share with you. So much more you could become.” Her voice was almost hypnotic, filled with promise and a hint of something darker.

Your stomach twisted, a knot of anxiety and unease forming deep within you. As the weight of her gaze came down on you, Lady Dimitrescu’s expression shifted, a playful smile breaking the intensity of the moment.

“But enough of my musings,” she said, her tone lightening. “What do you say we turn our attention to something a bit more hands-on? Would you like to try your hand at painting?”

The sudden change in topic made you do a double take. You blinked, the tension momentarily dissipating as you processed her unexpected suggestion.

“Me? Paint?” You echoed. “I’ve never really done it before.”

You looked up at Lady Dimitrescu, searching her face for any hint of mockery, but found only sincere encouragement.

“That’s fine,” she said, her smile widening. “It doesn’t require perfection; it requires passion.

She led you toward a blank canvas leaning against the right side of the wall, surrounded by a plethora of vibrant paints and clean brushes. You hesitated, glancing at the canvas and back to her.

“What should I paint?”

“Anything your heart desires,” she replied, stepping back to give you room. “Just let your instincts guide you.”

“Okay, I’ll give it a try.” You said uncertainly as you stepped forward.

You grabbed a paint brush off a nearby table, its weight feeling foreign in your hand. Next, you picked up a palette and a few tubes of acrylic paint. You squeezed out dabs of paint - vibrant reds, deep blues, and sunny yellows onto the palette. Slowly, you began to swirl them together with the brush, watching as they transformed into new hues – emerald greens and sunset oranges.

With a tentative stroke, you pressed the brush against the canvas, the bristles gliding smoothly across the surface. Each movement felt clumsy at first, but as you gained confidence, your strokes became more fluid and expressive. You layered colors, allowing them to blend and bleed into one another.

“Beautiful,” Lady Dimitrescu murmured, her gaze fixed on you as you worked. “You already have a natural sense of color. I can see the potential.”

Encouraged by her words, you started to create bold strokes, blending hues and allowing your emotions to flow onto the canvas. For the first time, you felt a sense of freedom.

Not long thereafter, you set the palette aside and stepped back to assess your work. Before you flowed a waterfall that tumbled down a rugged mountainside while the surrounding landscape was filled with lush green trees and rocky outcrops. While the colors weren't as smooth as you had hoped, and some areas lacked refined detail, the painting held a certain charm. It wasn't bad for your first attempt at painting.

“It’s remarkable, dear.” Lady Dimitrescu said, stepping closer to admire your work.

You blushed at her praise. “Thank you, my Lady. I didn’t know I could do something like this.”

“And that’s the beauty of discovering oneself. We often underestimate our own potential,” she stated matter of fact. “Now, I'd like to show you a technique that is helpful for beginners. It's called dry brushing. I'll demonstrate on a blank canvas so that you can observe closely.”

She reached over your head and picked up the palette you had just used. As she did so, the board ended up tilting slightly and some of the remaining paint dripped off the edge, landing on your vest. The sudden sensation of cold, wet paint soaking through the cloth made you flinch back.

“Oh my,” Lady Dimitrescu said in surprise, though there was a small, knowing smile on her lips, as if she found the situation both charming and entertaining. “I do apologize, darling. It seems I’ve turned you into a canvas of sorts.”

You lifted the bottom of your vest in a futile attempt to keep the paint from running further down the fabric. Her gaze followed your movements, and she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against the paint-stained spot.

She let out a soft sigh. “Go wipe the excess paint off, pet, and leave the vest in the laundry basket. Return here once you’ve finished.”

“Yes, my Lady.” Your voice came out more awkwardly than you intended.

You turned to leave but not before your eyes were drawn back to the portrait of yourself. The uncanny precision of the details, the intensity of the gaze staring back at you. It unsettled you in a way you couldn't quite explain.

As you finally exited the room, you couldn’t help but wonder why Lady Dimitrescu had chosen this moment to show you the atelier. To show the painting of you.

What was her intention?

As you made your way to the Lady’s bedchambers, you paused, glancing down the hallway where her daughters' bedchambers were. The corridor stretched out before you, silent and shadowed. Nobody was around. The note in your pocket burned, reminding you of the main house key that was supposedly in Bela’s bedroom.

Your heart began to race as you debated snooping around in her bedroom. You didn't know where the Lady's daughters were, and the thought of running into one of them made your palms sweaty. Bela was known for her strict adherence to her duties, often seen patrolling the castle and overseeing the staff. Cassandra spent most of her time in either the armory or the cellar. And Daniela typically lingered in the library, absorbed in her books. You prayed that today they would follow their usual routines.

This might be your only chance to search for the key. It was a risk you had to take.

You pivoted on your heel and made your way down the hallway. The silence was almost deafening, each of your footsteps echoing against the carpeted floor. After a few more steps, you came upon Bela’s bedroom door. A small red gem rested in the center, which gleamed in the low light like a drop of blood. It matched the one on her necklace that she always wore.

You looked both ways one more time.

Nothing.

The hallway was empty. You slowly opened the door, the hinges creaking slightly, and slipped inside. The door clicked shut behind you. Bela’s bedroom was tidy and dark, the only light coming from a few scattered candles and the low flickering embers from the fireplace. Near the back was a large bed, pushed against the furthest wall, its canopy draped with rich, heavy curtains. A nightstand stood next to the bed, a single candle flickering on its surface. To the right was the fireplace and next to it was a desk, neatly arranged with papers and books, presumably placed there to keep Bela warm as she worked. On the left side of the bedroom was the vanity.

Where could the key be?

Logically, it would make sense to check her desk first. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you approached the desk, your fingers shaking slightly as you reached for the first drawer. It slid open, revealing a stack of neatly organized documents. You began to rifle through them, the papers rustling underneath your touch. Letters, schedules, and reports passed through your hands, but unfortunately, the key wasn’t there. You looked on top of her desk and moved some folders and books around, hoping the key might be hidden in plain sight, but it yielded nothing as well.

You walked over to her vanity and opened each drawer as well. Bottles clinked together, brushes rolled aside, but there was still no sign of the main house key.

A cold sweat broke out on your forehead and your hands began to feel clammy. You wiped them on your pants, feeling the fabric cling to your palms.

You needed to hurry.

You turned around and walked over to the nightstand. You opened the top drawer and moved some papers and personal objects aside. Your fingers brushed against the edges of journals, loose sheets of parchment, and small trinkets as you sifted through the contents.

Then, your eyes widened.

The key.

It lay nestled beneath a stack of old letters. For a moment, you simply stared at it, hardly daring to believe your luck. Then, with a swift motion, you quickly grabbed it and stuffed it in your pocket. You made sure to close the drawer before you made your way to the door. You cautiously opened it and peeked your head out. The hallway beyond was dim and deserted. Your breath came a little easier as you stepped out. You closed the door quietly, the latch clicking into place with a soft sound that seemed louder than it was.

You couldn’t believe it. You had the key!

Your heart raced with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. This was your chance to escape, to reclaim your life from Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters.

You picked up the pace as you made your way down the hallway, heart pounding violently inside of your chest. Before you could turn the corner, Catalina's face flashed across your mind for a split second, halting your steps mid-stride. The image of her warm smile and kind eyes filled your thoughts, bringing an unexpected pang of guilt. You wanted to say goodbye to her, to thank her for the help she provided in this nightmare. The thought of leaving Catalina without saying a word felt wrong, but you knew that time was not on your side. In the end, she would understand. She would want you to leave.

As you stood there, lost in thought, a distant scream sliced through the air, chilling your blood. It was followed by an eerie giggle. Possibly Daniela by the sound of it.

You knew you couldn't linger any longer.

You had to leave.

Now.

As you descended the staircase, you caught sight of a maid, her back turned to you as she dusted one of the heavy-looking vases. You hesitated for a moment. You couldn’t take the risk of her spotting you; if she did, it would surely spell disaster for both of you. She would have no choice but to alert Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters if she didn’t want to lose her life. Plus, you didn’t want to think about what the Lady would to do you if you did end up getting caught.

You continued down the steps slowly, your heart racing as you maneuvered through the foyer. You stayed close to the shadows, glancing nervously at doorways and corners, half-expecting one of the Lady’s daughters to pop out at any moment.

Finally, you reached the main door.

Your heart was pounding so hard it felt as if it might burst from your chest. You pulled the key from your pocket and inserted it into the slot with trembling hands, praying that it wouldn't make too much noise. The mechanism clicked, and you held your breath, waiting for any sign that you had been detected. You strained to listen, your senses on high alert, but the castle remained fairly silent. You pushed the door open with ease, and a rush of cool, fresh air hit your face. The sensation was almost overwhelming. You stepped out and shut the door behind you as quietly as you could. The final barrier between you and the horrors of Castle Dimitrescu was sealed away with a soft thud.

You let out a ragged breath, feeling the oppressive weight lift off your shoulders. The tension that had coiled tightly within you began to unwind, like a spring slowly being released. You could almost sob in relief, the overwhelming urge to break down right there nearly consuming you. But you knew that there was no time for that. You still needed to get away from here, to put as much distance between yourself and the castle as much as possible. Turning away from the main door, you sprinted across the courtyard, adrenaline overriding the lingering effects of the drug. Your breath came out in short, rapid bursts, your lungs burning with the effort, but you didn't slow down. You had to get away, you had to reach safety.

The chill in the air was sharp, nipping at your exposed skin and seeping through your clothing. It pierced through your layers, making every breath feel crisp and biting, but it was a minor inconvenience compared to what you had endured recently. Snow covered the landscape, its pristine blanket stretching as far as the eye could see, making each step a struggle. Yet, the sun's warm rays managed to break through the overcast sky, melting some patches away and revealing damp, slushy areas that squished underfoot. It reminded you that even in the harshest of winters, warmth could still break through.

Eventually, the winding path ahead twisted through dense woods, shrouded in shadows and thick underbrush that seemed to close in around you. A sense of trepidation settled in your chest, memories of local tales about the woods resurfacing in your mind. You had heard of Lycans roaming the outskirts of the forest, their howls often echoing in the distance during the night. Yet, for some reason, they mainly avoided the villages. It was as if an unseen force forbade them from coming too close, a mysterious boundary they dared not to cross. Regardless, it didn’t ease your fears.

As you pushed forward, several branches scratched at your arms and face, their jagged edges catching on to your clothing and drawing minor scrapes that stung in the cold air. But you hardly noticed the pain; your focus was fixed on the path ahead, each step taking you closer to home.

You couldn’t wait to be reunited with your parents again.

[talesofesther]

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 | 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

What once was mine

ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6 | ch 7 | ch 8

When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can’t recognize; a girl who’s all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

Make it taste like love

You felt him before you even met him. And despite the pain he carried around, his soul was one of the most beautiful you’d ever seen.

Tangle me in all your broken pieces (and watch me stay)

ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3

An Asgardian god has just threatened your planet and you were called in to provide a little help. What you didn’t expect was to develop a strange soft spot for said god, who hid more pain behind his cold facade than you thought possible.

Too close to the stars

Somehow, between your overwhelming sweetness and insistence on treating him as if he was someone worth saving, you had managed to sneak your way into Loki’s cold heart. He simply hadn’t managed the guts to tell you, but a bit of a Christmas spirit might just change that.

[lot-of-nothing]

Entwined (Ch. 8)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Weekend getaway (the r rated stuff) :)

Warnings: SMUT and FLUFF

Author's Note: WHEN I TELL YOU TO LISTEN TO 'NAKED IN MANHATTAN' BY CHAPPELL ROAN ON REPEAT WHEN YOU READ THE SMUT, I AM SO DEADASS SERIOUS. It will convey the exact level of passion and excitement that is happening.

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7

Before the elevator doors could close behind you, Melissa’s hand was clutching yours as she set off towards your hotel room. Her confidence and determination reminded you of a hot summer night during your twenties when you walked her home from a party - as soon as you approached her apartment, her hand was in yours, but her mind already between the sheets of her bed. 

“You aren’t too busy to stay tonight, are you?” Melissa cooed as she stopped in her tracks outside of her apartment door. She gave your hand a strong tug which sent your tipsy body stumbling into hers - your hands gripping her sides to steady yourself.

Her statement was obviously rhetorical when she attached her lips to yours. One arm wound around your neck while the other slithered up your chest to hold your chin - both effectively holding you in place. Not that you wanted to go anywhere anyways. 

As of a week ago, she and Joe were on a break (again), and suddenly you were both attached at the hips once again. Her hands had been wandering for days - slowly testing the waters to see how far she could get with you. And each time Mel’s skin brushed against your own, you felt electricity crackling across your body. 

Melissa still hadn’t lost her touch. Her hands had found their way under your shirt, thumbs stroking your skin, sending those same jolts across your body once more. You were losing yourself in the moment. Her hands felt everywhere all at once. You could have sworn that her pink lipstick covered your face. Each touch made you feel intoxicated. 

You found yourself fading into past memories when you heard her breathless, gruff voice in your ear. And suddenly you were 16 again.

“I need you.” The redhead whispered as she pressed you against her bedroom door. 

You had picked her up from her boyfriend’s house at one in the morning. She had snuck out to see him, but when her sexual escapades resulted in disappointing results, she called pleading with you to rescue her.

“I-” Your brows furrowed, head bowed, and hands clutched her sides. How could you tell her that you had no clue what to do with all of her bottled up desire? It felt like she expected the world from you, but your inexperience made you freeze up like a deer in headlights.

Her mother, sisters, and brothers were home. You couldn’t have the devout Catholic Ms. Schemmenti see you being more than friendly with her daughter, but Melissa’s canine teeth gently sinking into the side of your neck made your worries start to fade. 

She tempted you once more, “Come on, baby.”

With unexpected expertise, Melissa fished her hotel key from her pocket and pressed it to the sensor on the door. Your heart leapt when you heard her giggle as she fumbled with the door handle. Overwhelmed by your desire for her, you forced your lips to hers once more and backed her into the hotel room, letting the door slam behind you. 

It was blurry as you both approached the bed. Dominance would shift back and forth as you pressed one another to the walls and tore at each other's clothes. She had come away as the winner when she pushed you back onto the bed. 

Melissa’s gaze was hungry as she stared down at you. Her hands undid her jeans, and you loved the way her jaw shifted when she was met with the slight challenge of sliding her jeans over her wide hips. She slowly stripped before you, taking off each piece of clothing without breaking her eye contact. 

“Take a picture. It lasts longer.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Your response had been so quick that Melissa wasn’t expecting such forwardness. She always loved teasing you about your tendency to admire her, but often you would just look away with a red face. 

The redhead was comfortable changing in front of you, but would usually turn away from you when she removed her bra - always preserving some assemblance of privacy. This time, however, she remained facing you, staring you down as she revealed her chest to you. In the past, you had always had the decency to stare down into your lap, but now you soaked up the sight. 

She took a few steps closer, and time stopped. She was towering over you as you sat on the edge of her bed, her breasts were at eye level. Her hand caught the back of your neck, causing you to stall in place. You couldn’t believe the momentum of her hand was pulling you towards her enchanting body. 

“Well, don’t be shy now.”

Shaken from lingering in your memories, you caught her nipple between your lips, settling into the comforting position of our hands and mouth on her tits and her knees on either side of your lap. Her fingers scratched your scalp and played with your hair as small hums of satisfaction emanated from her body. 

When you detached your lips and looked up to meet her eyes, Melissa’s intensity wavered for a moment. A soft smile graced her lips and she cocked her head, “You always look beautiful like this.”

You had no words for her. You only wanted to make her feel good. 

With strong hands gripping her thighs, you lifted her momentarily to exchange places with her on the bed. And rather than loom over her for the same body worship, you sank to your knees, taking your rightful place between her legs. 

“This always feels so right...”

Of course it does. You knew this, but after years apart, you were happy to remind her (or prove to her) how well you knew every square inch of her. It was so satisfying to hear each one of her vocalizations, each more unrestrained than the last as she lost control over herself. 

Maybe it was pure ego, but you always told yourself that you were the only one that could do this to her. That could bring out this part of her. Why else would she keep coming back for more?

With the pure motivation of proving yourself to be Melissa’s most competent lover, you probed her cunt more thoroughly and savored her flavor as she grew wetter. 

“I have to feel you against me.” Mel’s hands on your cheeks and growl drew you from continuing to swim through the memory any longer. 

While you weren’t sure what she had in mind, you were directed by the impatient and aggressive woman sharing the bed. Her hands desperately tugged at any remaining clothes, causing you to nervously fumble around as you stripped. 

When you were finally naked, she had you with your back against the bed and her manicured nails teasing your cunt, testing your wetness only to find you soaked. Reliving the past while also being in the present with Melissa had you feeling frenzied for her touch, and you let her know as such when you muttered ‘please’ over and over. 

“I will, baby.” Her voice was breathy and your clit throbbed at hearing the pet name. You knew you were weak for Melissa Schemmenti, but now you felt like absolute putty in her hands, ready to do what she requested at any second. 

You were disappointed when she momentarily moved away. It was impossible for you to contain your groan when your cunt made contact with hers as you weren’t expecting the coolness of her sopping heat against you. 

Instinct took over you both as you gripped one another's hips and thighs, attempting to draw the other closer for increasingly satisfying sensations as you grind your cunts together. When her mouth found yours, it felt as though she was trying to swallow you whole with each open mouthed kiss and swipe of her tongue. From the way she held and kissed you, it was hard to contend which one of you was the most desperate for the other’s touch.

Melissa was turned around and completely lost in the humping, grinding, and swirl of limbs. Her thoughts were so overrun by her body chasing down the orgasm she craved, the filter for her thoughts had completely shut down.

“I love you,” she breathed, hand squeezing at the back of your neck, “I never want... you... you to think otherwise.”

You lost track of the night from there, completely blinded by her admission.

Hours later you would still have her sprawled out on her back, chest heaving with each tantalizing thrust of your hips. You had her repeat those first three words over and over, breathing them in as if you needed them to live. While you couldn’t force the same words from your mouth, you hoped each of your kisses and movements could reflect the love you held for her until you were ready to return the sentiment. 

--

It had been disappointing to wake up to an empty bed, but the photo of Melissa in a black bikini waiting for you in your texts had you throwing on your bathing suit to make your way to her by the pool before you had truly shaken the sleep from your body. It was easy to push the thought of not admitting your feelings from your head. You knew you loved her, but hearing her say it was far better than anything you had experienced in years. For now, it was easier to focus on that than your own shortcomings in vulnerability.

When you found her by the poolside, Melissa patted the spot between her legs, and while the innuendo would typically make you blush, her tone and eyes only conveyed an innocent sweetness. “I didn’t have the heart to wake you, but I saved you a seat.” 

“Thank you?” With a bit of nervous skepticism for the unusual docility from Melissa, you crawl onto the round cushioned pool chair and shiver at the feeling of her hands immediately finding your shoulders. 

“I can help with your sunscreen.” She offers with a forceful execution as she is already applying sunscreen to her hands before you have an opportunity to accept the offer. Mel’s hands work the lotion into your screen, lingering on your shoulders and biceps as she speaks casually, “The UVs are already high so I’m gonna read for a bit to tan. You can lay here with me or whatever.” 

You shrug and nod, not wanting to seem too overzealous at the prospect of publicly being seen together. “Yeah, sure.” 

Your heart was thudding in your chest when she patted your back and said ‘good to go’. There were no examples of public displays of affection between Melissa and you for you to base this interaction off of. Cautiously, you slide down enough to recline back into Mel’s lap. 

Rather than confirming your anxious worries of rejection, Melissa shifted to having your head resting on her thigh while she drew up her other knee to rest her book onto. While she wasn’t turning pages in her book, her fingers brushed against your cheeks and forehead or twirled locks of your hair. 

Her thoughts must have been wandering elsewhere as she spoke up suddenly, breaking the longstanding, comfortable silence between you, “When we get back, you should meet Barb. You could even come to a family dinner if you wanna.”

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore, @jeridandridge @petty-femme27, @darkcolorphantom, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @cosmichymns, @ara-a-bird

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Ch. 6

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5

Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

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There was just a small ray of sunshine threatening to poke through your curtains. Wincing at the light, you whimpered as you started to wake up. Fluttering your eyes open, you slowly tried to adjust to the room's lighting. It took you a moment to realize that you weren't in your room, but still in the living room.

"Hm?"

Slowly sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, bobbing your head as you woke up. Feeling something poke against your panties, you looked down and immediately grew flustered. Miguel was sleeping on the couch, which meant that you slept on top of him all night.

Covering your face with your sleeves, you shyly looked down to see what was poking you. A squeak nearly escaped your throat as you quickly got up. Feeling something over your shoulders, you gripped onto Miguel's jacket and proceeded to cover your face with it. Shyly, you glanced towards Miguel's erection,

"Hm...."

You were debating on waking him, but he looked so relaxed. Still holding onto his jacket, you quickly went to get Miguel your pillow and blanket, wanting him to be more comfortable. Once fixing him, you quickly went to wash up and prepare breakfast.

Once washed up, you glanced at yourself in the mirror, trying to cover your flustered cheeks. Miguel actually stayed over the night. The two of you actually kissed. Pressing his jacket towards your lips, you couldn't help but smile.

Putting his jacket on, you giggle towards how big it was on you. It felt nice and cozy. Eddie never let you wear his stuff. Flinching at the thought, you shook the memories away and hurried to the kitchen. Miguel was a big man, he must eat a heavy breakfast. Hopefully, he will like your cooking.

---------

Miguel grunted softly as he slowly started to come to. He winced towards the light, hissing very quietly as he covered his face. With a heavy inhale, Miguel shot up, wondering why he was smelling food. Immediately, he recalled knocking out at your place.

Miguel sighed quietly as he spotted you making breakfast in your small kitchen. A smile against his lips as you wore his jacket. Miguel wasn't going to say anything about the horrid smell of bacon soaking into the jacket. No. He wasn't going to say anything because of how good you looked wearing his clothes.

He licked his lips, remembering how you tasted last night. Moving your blanket off him, Miguel tensed at his large erection. Did you happen to see it? Glancing towards you again, Miguel knew that if he were to masturbate here, it would not be quietly.

"Hm~ Hm~ Bacon and eggs~ Mhm~ Bacon and Eggs," You chuckled, singing quietly to yourself.

"Can I assume bacon and eggs are on the menu?" Miguel asked, watching you jump.

"M-Miguel! M-Morning! H-How...How did you sleep?" You asked him, quickly lowering the heat and hurrying to him. Once you were close enough, Miguel stole a quick kiss,

"Honestly, better than most nights," He told you, watching your cheeks turn bright red, "How did my little bunny sleep?"

"A-Ah...G-Good...S-Sorry if I'm heavy."

"Ha, heavy?" Miguel stroked your cheek, enjoying you nuzzle your head into his palm, "Nothing of the sort."

"Mhm~" You hummed happily, "Um...I have s-some spare bathroom amenities if you want to w-wash up...I...I uh, don't have any clothes for you...if...if you like morning s-showers." You stuttered, playing with his jacket sleeves.

"I'll just wash my face, thank you."

Miguel stole one more kiss from you before heading to the bathroom. He needed to take care of his little problem down there. Miguel let out a heavy sigh as he sat on the toilet seat and grabbed his cock in his hands. Just having you sit on his lap last night was such a turn on.

Miguel grunted lowly as he stroked faster. He couldn't believe what you were doing to him. Normally Miguel would never break like this whenever he fucked a woman. It was always just a quick relief, but you. Oh, you were tormenting him.

"Fuck...(Y/N)..." Miguel groaned, hoping that the running water was loud enough to cover his lewd noises.

"B-Breakfast is r-ready, Miguel!" You called out.

His name rolled off your lips so nicely. All you had to do was cry it out as Miguel stuffed your pussy with his dick. To have you putty in the palm of his hands.

"(Y/N)," Miguel groaned, cumming against his hand.

Taking a moment to catch his breathe, Miguel proceeded to clean up the mess he made. This was what you were doing to him. You were making the biggest and baddest mafia leader cum in your bathroom. You were breaking Miguel down.

---------

"Um...I-I wasn't sure how much you liked to eat...S-So...I hope this is a big enough...portion." You said, placing the plate in front of him, "I-I hope you like it."

Miguel didn't have the heart to tell you that he never truly ate a home cooked meal before. This would be the first in a very long time he had a meal in the comfort of a home. Also, you gave him quite a big portion. Miguel resisted a chuckle at your adorable attempt. You were already doing a good job as his future wife.

"Sit and eat with me." Miguel told you. You nodded, grabbing your small plate and sitting across from him at your small table, "Is that enough to fill you?"

"O-Oh, yes. Y-You know I don't eat much,"

"Hm," Miguel kept eye contact with you before you both started to eat, "You look good in my jacket. Keep it."

"O-OH! S-Sorry! I-It was just...so cozy...A-Are you sure?"

"That jacket will just be the first of many clothes of mine you'll wear," Miguel muttered lowly, watching you smile into the jacket sleeves, "Yes, amor (love)."

"Oh, um, I-I've been m-meaning to ask. W-What does...amor mean? A-And that other w-word you c-call me sometimes...con...conjeta?" You did your best to repeat. Miguel chuckled lowly,

"They're just my little nicknames for you. Nothing bad," He hummed, taking a bite of his food, "You're good at cooking."

"Oh, um...T-Thank you." You nibbled on your toast, glancing towards Miguel, "Um, about last night...W-Why were you asking me all of that stuff about...the mafia?"

Miguel avoided your gaze, knowing that he would cave. He had decided to hold off on telling you about that part of his life. Miguel wanted to take care of you first. He wanted to make sure that you were willing to stay with him no matter what.

"Yesterday at Central Park. It was a mafia attack, I wanted to make sure that you were okay. This city if filled with different mafia gangs. I'm sure you weren't aware of that when you arrived in this city."

"Oh...no...."

"I had a feeling." Miguel stood from his seat, taking his empty plate to the sink. You quickly followed, taking the plate from him, "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Hm? Oh, um...T-This will be my...first Halloween here...S-So I'm not sure," You admitted while doing the dishes.

Miguel stood behind you, watching you hesitantly roll your sleeves up. He furrowed his brows, seeing small cuts on your wrists. Inhaling deeply, Miguel looked away immediately. As much as he wanted to be angry, something else was boiling inside Miguel instead.

"I'll pick you up after work tomorrow. It's too dangerous to be alone here." His voice got lower as he started to walk towards the door.

You gasped, quickly finishing up and drying your hands. Rushing towards Miguel as he approached the door, you gripped his shirt slightly. Miguel slowly turned towards you, pity in his eyes. You frowned at the sight before hugging him,

"E-Even though...we got interrupted...I-I was really h-happy with our date y-yesterday!"

Miguel hung his shoulders before turning around to engulf you in his embrace. He lifted your chin slightly, giving you another deep kiss. He resisted a smile as he felt you go on your tippy toes to try and gain from height on him. You were too cute.

"Until tomorrow, mi amor (my love)."

"Mhpm~"

----------

The crimson sunset coated the city beautifully. It looked even better with a glass of vodka in Miguel's hand as he sat on the roof of his penthouse. A cold breeze blowing against his hair, distracting Miguel of all his frustrations.

After leaving your place, Miguel couldn't get the image of those scars out of his mind. Not even Alchemax nor his mafia business could erase those vivid images.

"(Y/N)," Miguel whispered your name ever so gently.

Someone as innocent as you should have never thought of such a thing. This emotion Miguel was feeling was sorrow. Never had he'd encounter such a thing close hand. Miguel found it strange. He could easily kill someone or stand before a dead body...

But the thought of you being one of them?

Sipping his liquor, Miguel kept repeating the image of you rolling your sleeves hesitantly. Something that you desperately wanted to hide. You were scared. Miguel didn't want you to be scared. He wanted to understand.

And the kill the fucker who hurt you.

"Lyla, I have a mission. I need that brat Miles on this case." Miguel spat as he took out his phone.

'Sure thing boss. Where shall I send him?'

"(Y/N)'s hometown. I need to know who her ex was and what exactly happened between those two."

"Ohhhhh~ You're serious about her~" Lyla giggled over the phone, "Does this mean I can finally kick out all those greedy sluts who keep knocking at the office?"

"I thought I already told you to do that?" Miguel shook his head slightly, "Actually, do whatever. I just need that information."

"Yes sir,"

Hanging up on his assistant, Miguel let out a heavy sigh. The stress of everything was getting to him, plus the holidays were around the corner. Miguel needed to relieve his stress, but he was waiting for you. He refused to see any other women if he was going to make you his wife.

"(Y/N),"

----------

You hummed quietly as you worked on another puzzle. The thought of yesterday still lingering in your mind. Miguel's treatment towards you and the kiss. He was such a great boyfriend. You were just worried if you were being a good girlfriend.

That was always your worry.

Clenching the puzzle piece in your hand, you tried to calm down and forget the past. Nothing you ever did was good enough. You were never a good girlfriend. Shaking as tears rolled down your cheeks, you rushed into your bedroom and engulfed yourself in Miguel's jacket.

The warmth, the coziness and most of all, his scent was still there. Wrapping yourself in his jacket started to calm you down. Slowly returning to your puzzle with Miguel's jacket on, you tried to go back to your mental safe space.

Miguel wouldn't be this nice to you if you weren't being a good girlfriend, right? Looking at your bookshelf full of puzzles, you wondered if Miguel would like to do one with you? Perhaps tomorrow, you could bring one along with your cookies you forgot to give him.

"Maybe...I should ask him?" You muttered, looking for your phone.

Once found, you first texted Miguel asking if it was okay to call him. You didn't want to be a burden after all. Within a second, Miguel was the one to call you.

"H-Hey!"

"Are you alright?" Miguel asked. You smiled into your sleeve,

"Y-Yeah, I just wanted to ask you...what we were doing tomorrow night? If...If it's alright...for me....to bring something."

"Oh, I should have explained better, sorry mi amor. The city is pretty dangerous on Halloween. I want you to stay over at my place so I can keep you safe. Bring whatever you need to feel comfortable."

"S-So a puzzle?!" You chirped, not even registering the part where you were staying over at his place.

Miguel chuckled over the phone, "As many puzzles as you want." He hummed.

You cheered quietly, "I can't w-wait! Goodnight, Miguel~"

"Goodnight, (Y/N)"

Once you hung up, you quickly went to your wall of puzzles, wondering which one Miguel would like. After deciding on a few, you finally registered what Miguel said. Your face turned bright red as you dropped the box on the floor,

"I-I'm s-staying over....at....at M-Miguel's?!"

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next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things

[anki-of-beleriand]

A Heart Made of Glass ch. 17

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision - CarolxF!Reader

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story. Thank you for the support.

This is the story of their lives, as it was supposed to be. Sometimes our story is not what we wanted it to be but what we needed it to be.

Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Epilogue

Chapter 17

The way it was supposed to be

Autumn was a strange experience in this part of the world. It was not too cold, but it brought with it heavy rain and windy afternoons that usually turned into lukewarm nights.

You had come to appreciate life for what it was: the passing of time and the golden experiences and memories you built with loved ones. After you had left the Avengers, you had faced a world that was submerged in a darkness that was not compatible with yours. You experienced firsthand the awful requests made by the common citizen, the envy and the everlasting hatred some of them held in their hearts. Natasha had always said you were far too noble, that your heart was far too loving to actually comprehend or even be a part of a job that could destroy that piece of innocence you still held closer to your soul.

You didn't believe her, though. 

You remember the anger, you remember the resentment, and you remember the pain. At some point, you thought darkness was all you should experience, everything you were capable of. The missions you had taken became the outlet of your anger and frustration, and it wasn't until you saw your reflection after a nasty confrontation with some mercenaries that you were confronted with the person you were changing into. You were walking down a road that could pretty well transformed you into a villain, it took time and tears and so much frustration but, by the time you crossed paths with Wanda you had put to rest your resentment and hatred against what had happened. 

The morning breeze sneaked inside the room, the curtains shifted slightly letting you see the heavy clouds gliding above the villa. You shifted your weight, turning to look at the sleeping form on the right side of the bed.

Wanda had her eyes closed, with the lines around her eyes completely relaxed and her lips slightly parted. Her hair was fanned over the pillow and her hand had been resting on your hip protectively. At some point during the night the both of you had moved through the bed, and Wnda had found herself snuggling closer to you while giving you space so as to not hurt your leg. 

It never occurred to you that another encounter with Wanda would result in the both of you starting something else. At some point in time, you always thought you would tell Wanda everything that you had been through emotionally and that after that, you would let her go. Now years later, and after a very tiresome mission, you couldn’t help but feel as your heart melted at the sight of the other woman sharing your bed.

You never stopped loving her.

Turning on your side, you held back an exclamation of pain while lifting your free hand. Your fingertips mapped out the features of Wanda’s face brushing on the skin on her jaw down her neck to the arm that was still holding onto you. Your lips broke into a smile, your heart beating without a control inside your chest and a little voice inside your head just begged to the woman still fast asleep to not break your heart.

Not again.

With a sigh, you leaned in placing a single kiss on her lips before sitting up. Your leg was hurting a little, but it wasn’t nothing that you couldn’t control, so with the help of your shadows you stood up hopping to the crutch that was resting on the bedside table. 

With a last glance to the sleeping form of Wanda you closed the door behind yourself and decided to go to the kitchen. The noise of conversation and kitchen utensils being pushed around told you were in for an interesting morning conversation.

___________________________________

Natasha was ignoring the bickering between America and Yelena, she had her eyes firmly planted on the paper she brought that morning but the smirk playing on her lips told you she had not kissed a single word. 

At times, you wondered how people found family in the most unexpected places with the most unexpected people. You had always been grateful with Natasha, she had made it her duty to share with you what she longed for. With a smile you took another step closer to the older woman knowing the skidding of the leg in the floor was something you couldn't hide at the moment. 

You knew the older woman had heard you approaching, though her posture ever changed the muscles on her back tensed. You sat down on a chair looking over at the paper before grabbing the mug Natasha had in front of her. 

“That's mine.” She stated never looking away from the news, you shrugged taking a long sip of coffee. 

“Was.” You nodded to the paper, “what is it?”

“Nothing much, they had been ignoring the incident so far.” Natasha put the paper down, turning her attention to you. “How are you feeling?”

You winced placing a hand on the table, “I've been better, no gonna lie. The pain this morning is not that bearable.”

“Must be you sudden outing yesterday, you forced yourself more than you should.” Natasha pushed her lips, her green eyes gleaming dangerously. “Where is Wanda?”

“In my room.”

Natasha gave a brief nod, her hand sought out yours grasping it tightly. You glanced at the table just before lifting your eyes to meet hers. In there you found a softening stare, the glimpses of a smile and understanding of the situation. It was more than enough for you. 

“How are things with her?” The question rolled out of her lips though you were pretty sure she wanted to say something else. 

Shifting on your spot, you lifted your face to see out of the window where America and Yelena had finally come to a silent agreement while going through the training routine. 

“They are fine, I guess.” You chuckled when Natasha huffed, tilting your head you continued. “Sometimes it is hard to just leave the past behind, but then when I'm with her I remember the innocence of my feelings for her back then and how different they are now.”

“Love is for children.”

“Indeed.” You mirrored the smile Natasha was giving you. “I think I never stop caring, and I never stop feeling. It is different now we are learning and getting to know one another.”

Natasha gave a curt nod, she squeezed your hand once more. Her face hardened for a moment, crunching her nose as in deep in thought. 

“She is recovering, you know? Strange has been telling us how much she had changed, how happy she has been as of late.” Natasha leaned back dropping her shoulders. “Wanda had gone through so much, I don't think she should go back to this life. And quite frankly, I don't think you should either.”

This was a conversation the both of you had put to rest before the whole incident with Thanos and Steve's death. The world had been changing and non-powdered individuals were already working to make the world a better place, not only that but they had been creating new technologies to keep in check those they deemed far too dangerous to be left free. It was something both, Steve and Tony, had been fighting in their own way but that had continued happening during the five years after the Blip. Being a superhero, trying to save everyone was no longer something that could be done so recklessly or even out of good will. It required to be smart, to know which battles to fight and most of the time it was quite unfair. Besides, you and Natasha had tried out the runaways routine, you had been searching to settle down, hence the normal job you had gotten back in Norway. And Natasha, well… 

You glanced at the woman in question, the wrinkles around her eyes were finally showing and there was a complete aura of tiredness she had been carrying for a while. Natasha was tired, and she would be more than happy to step aside. 

“That's why you have been training Yelena.” Your eyes opened wide with realisation, Natasha broke into a half smile but said nothing. “That's the reason you have been working with her, why you have been delegating missions.”

“Yes.” Natasha shrugged standing up and making her way to the coffeemaker. “I have taught her everything I could and she now has a bigger web than mine, she and America should be the next in line.”

“Does she know?” You turned your attention to Yelena then back to Natasha. “She had dreamt to work alongside with you for a long time, you know that was her whole purpose for a while.”

“Yelena is no fool, she knows but we have opted out to not talk about it.”  Natasha poured some coffee shrugging. “At least not yet.”

This was a lot to take in, once more you fo used your eyes on the two women training outside. Yelena was already a seasoned warrior, she had a different glint in her eyes and the missions along with the harshness of her upbringing shown through those clear eyes. America was still young, and even with her experience, she was still hopeful and full of righteous energy around her. She followed instructions easily, learn and then broke those rules to adapt them to her own style. Yelena smirked, she liked what she was seeing in the teen. 

Once more, your mind went back to the young woman laying on your bed. You thought about the days you had spent with her and the life you could have with her. You ère also tired of going around protecting the world putting yourself on the line. You were tired of being alone, thinking your life was only to be a hero. Or a villain. 

Natasha put a mug filled with coffee right in front of you, she offered a wink nodding to the stairs. 

“You two deserve happiness, perhaps it's about time we retired and let the young ones to save the world.” 

You blinked a couple of times, your ears straining hearing the sound of naked feet on the wooden floor. 

“Just in time, do you want some coffee Wanda?”

“Yes, please.” 

You didn't move but your lips curled into a content smile when you felt the sweet touch of a hand brushing your lower back. A bottle of painkillers was put to rest in front of you, turning around you could see only concern in Wanda's eyes. 

“You forgot this upstairs, I thought you may need it since I know you're in pain.” Wanda lifted her hand to brush your hair, caressing the side of your face. 

“Woah, not even a good morning kiss or anything?”

The smirk on your face was matching the one Natasha wore at the moment, Wanda squirmed glancing at you with wide eyes then back at Natasha with some apprehension. You raised a brow at her, and Natasha this time around mirrored your actions. 

“I don't…”

“You don't want to?” The question left your lips with a hint of pain, Wanda opened her eyes shaking her head. 

“Yes!”

“Then, what's the problem?”

“I don't think she wants to, to be honest. Bad breath, perhpas?”

This time around Wanda opened her eyes shaking her head, her cheeks completely red and there was a hint of panic running through her mannerism trying to get the situation under control. 

“No, of course not!!”

You rolled your eyes trying to stand up while shaking your head. 

“Come here, you doofus.”

Natasha snorted turning around to give the both of you a little privacy. You smiled into the kiss, Wanda relaxed her posture stepping back wearing a shy smile. 

“See? It wasn't that hard.”

Wanda pushed you lightly back on the chair, busying herself to try and hide her blush and calm her beating heart. 

“You should take the pills, Y/N, you really look in pain.” Natasha came with another mug she placed in front of Wanda. 

For a brief instant, Wanda and Natasha crossed stares and there was a moment of understanding between them. It was everything Wanda needed it to feel at ease with the situation, to finally let it go and pursue what she wanted with you. 

“You guys have any plans for today?” Natasha inquired leaning back against the sink. 

Wanda glanced at you her green eyes shone with concern pursing her lips but not daring to voice her thoughts. You wanted to go out, to keep exploring the city with Wanda by your side but the pain on your leg would make it impossible. After a moment of consideration you lifted your eyes to the other woman who was waiting for you to answer. 

“No, I guess yesterday's adventure was enough for me and me leg, so today I will rest.” You cocked your head nodding to the yard. “What about you, guys?”

“Not on my end, though I overheard Yelena and America wanting to go to the Old City.” Natasha pursed her lips, “I think they had something planned but I can't quite figure out what it is.”

You chuckled takin a sip from your coffee, Wanda stood behind you her hands resting comfortably on your shoulders. 

“Then, I could cook, if you want and we can stay here, just for today.”

Wanda lowered her gaze until her eyes found yours. Your heart skipped a beat, just as your eyes shone with the deepest of emotions you were experiencing for her. Natasha observed te both of you from afar, wondering just how missing chances the relationship had faced until a mission confronted them with the reality. How many heartbreaks could have been prevented if anyone had worried enough to help and guide the both of you. Natasha softened watching the subtle caresses and brushes of hands, the tenderness behind the stares and the attention Wanda poured on you without any shame. 

There was only hope for the future, and Natasha hoped after the conversation she had with you that morning that you would make the right decision. 

“I think that's perfect.” Natasha jumped forward pointing at you, “get change and go to the pool, you can rest there with Yelena and America and Wanda and I will take care of the rest.”

You blinked a couple of times, your mouth opened ready to retort but the hand on your shoulder stopped you. 

“I think that's a great idea, you can spend some time outside and we will take care of everything else.” Wanda offered a reassuring smile, though you could see the glint of trepidation in her green eyes. 

“Only if you're sure.” 

“I am.” Wanda nodded then grabbing the bottle of pills shake it in front of your eyes. “Keep this with you at all times, and tell me if you need anything at all”

You had a feeling this sudden eagerness to get rid of you had nothing to do with lunch and more so with Natasha and Wanda wanting to have a conversation. You hesitated only for a moment before standing up, you flashed them a content grin before dragging yourself to your room and getting ready for the day. 

_________________________________ It was bound to be a cloudy day, with just the exact amount of warmness for a Tuscan city. You at down on the lounge chair fixing your position so the leg, you leaned back watching as Yelena and America cleaned up a little before coming over to where you were resting. America wore a simple smile, her hair pulled up into a ponytail while she sat on the chair next to yours, Yelena accommodated at the bottom of your chair.

“So, you and Wanda…” Yelena shifted frowning, “what’s really going on?”

You snorted knowing this was the long-awaited conversation you had pending with Yelena. It was one thing to talk about it with Natasha and even with America, but Yelena had always been overprotective of you and at the end of the day the situation presenting itself at the moment was not something ideal. Not for her, anyway.

“What do you want to hear, Lena?”

“The truth would be nice.”

America glanced at the both of you, shifting forward, she opened her mouth to speak but stopped when you lift a hand shaking your head.

“I guess, this was something bound to happen at some point.” You declared; Yelena raised a brow leaning forward.

“Was it? I thought you hated her.”

“I never hated her, Yelena, you know that.”

“I just never expected you to…” Yelena let out a heavy sigh, she leaned back shrugging. “I guess I just never thought it would be like this, you know?”

“I know.” You could see the acceptance in Yelena, the small hint of a doubt gleaming in her eyes was only a response to you being so distant as of late.

“I always thought you would end up with Danvers, not with Maximoff.” Yelena rested her elbows on her knees, she glanced at America then back at you. “Are you happy, at least?”

You chuckled, “I think that we have been working on just getting to know one another once more before jumping into anything rash. But yes, I am happy.”

There was a moment of silence that was filled only by the sweet breeze of early morning brushing their skin, you closed your eyes for a moment enjoying the quietness around you. Yelena was contemplating her future, the restlessness inside her was still pushing her to keep running, to keep moving and get out there into the world.

“Are you?” You asked, Yelena blinked a couple of times pursing her lips.

“Am I what?”

You rolled your eyes nodding, “Happy. Are you happy?”

Yelena looked taken aback by the question, she was silent for a moment until her lips broke into a familiar grin. It was a sight not many got a chance to see genuinely on the blond-haired woman’s face and you were happy to see your family was also getting that little piece of peace and happiness they had always deserved.

“I am. Strangely enough, I have been working on the missions and my life, and I have never been so happy with what I do, or who I am.” Yelena punched you playfully on your leg when you start chuckling. “You better not be laughing at me, I haven’t seen someone so smitten since…”

“…Since you and Kate?”

You raised your brows at the comment, Yelena changed colours going from white to red in almost a second. America covered her mouth almost immediately, but you were just too shocked by such a revelation and of course the reaction it got from Yelena.

“Who is Kate?” You finally asked, America rolled over just on time before Yelena threw at her.

“I’m gonna kill you, you brat!”

“Sorry, sorry! I forgot!”

You observed sitting down on the chair lounge as Yelena caught up with America who was laughing by now. Yelena was speaking in a mixture of Russian and English, she caught up with America before the both of them lose their balance and fell into the pool. It took you a moment to recover from the shook, but as soon as you did you start laughing watching as America was now getting the advantage and was laughing tickling Yelena and swimming out of the way of the blond-haired woman.

They came at you dripping water, with their morning clothes completely drenched and a sense of dignity that didn’t match their recent childish games. You leaned back waiting until they took some of the clothes off grabbing some towels to get dry.

“So, who is Kate?” You asked once more, Yelena lifted her chin trying to pretend this conversation was not going to turn into a discussion about her recent explores in New York City.

“She is a spoil brat, that is quite good with the bow.” She said sitting down while scowling at the way America snorted.

“Okay, and …you like her?” Now this came as a surprised to you since Yelena had never shown any interest in anyone.

Yelena shrugged, “she is fine.”

America opened her mouth to speak but thought better off what to say when she found those clear eyes of Yelena on her.

“A couple of weeks ago I was called for a job in the States.” Yelena mumbled, you know remembering the call, Yelena shifted as if uncomfortable. “I met this woman, she was trying to get to a gang that was terrorizing the city but most importantly, they were threatening her mom.”

“And, is she pretty?” You chuckled when Yelena lifted her arms in defeat, America came right in winking at you.

“I gotta say she is quite beautiful, and she is also funny and pretty smart.”

“So, you’re also smitten by her?”

“What?! No, of course not!” America blushed shaking her head trying to ignore the glare from Yelena.

You cocked your head, blinking a couple of times, “how did you meet her? Weren’t you at school?”

“I was.” America lowered her gaze then returned her attention to you, “but I also have been helping Yelena around, I think…I think it is only right.”

It was at that moment you understood what Natasha meant about the youngest generation. You heard everything Yelena and America decided to tell you at the moment, how they had been working together alongside Kate and other people around the world to build up a new team. It was such an strange concept, watching as they tell you of their hopes and their goals, how the name of the Avengers was still used reverently by many and how others were still waiting for someone to come forth and saved them from the clutches of evil doers.

“You better go get change, I think Natasha and Wanda would be over soon and then we will talk more about this.” You finally said taking everything in.

Yelena was the first one to stand up, she hesitated before turning to you.

“I am happy.” She stated once more, “and I’m glad to know you are happy too. Wanda is not such a bad election, after all.”

“I am happy for you as well, Lena.” You grabbed her hand squeezing it comfortingly. “I don’t want you to get hurt, and I don’t want you to keep any secrets from me, you know I will always be there for you.”

Yelena nodded squeezing your hand back before going inside the house. America had stayed behind, her clothes clinging to her frame. She glanced at you for a long moment, and you waited for the young woman to speak.

“When I first came here I was highly irrational on a lot of things, your relationship with Wanda was one of those things.”

“I remember.” You furrowed your brows, America softened he features.

“I think you were patient with me, and I thank you for…just for listening to me, for helping me out.” She stated swallowing down her emotional response to the conversation, “I know it was hard for you when you saw her that first time back in Norway, but I am glad to see that things are working out with the both of you.”

It was something you never expected to happen, and by the way America was talking at the moment it was something the young woman had doubted as well. Then America stood up and came to you wrapping her arms around you.

“I’m so happy for you and Wanda, I really hope this could be the second chance the both of you deserve.”

Then, America was gone and you were left alone with your thoughts.

The morning was growing old, with not a single sound interrupting your thoughts you observed the trees and the grass, your eyes dancing around the backyard with images of the past, the present and the unknown future dancing inside your head.

Without meaning to, you fell asleep with only hope for the future to not be broken by the past.

____________________

The supermarket was a long way from the Villa.

Natasha and Wanda had driven quietly while letting the music in the car to fill the silence. Wanda glanced out of the window, her thoughts going back to you and how you were fairing with the pain on your leg. She had been dead worried the moment she heard of your accident, when she finally got to see the state you were in her heart had dropped with her mind going blank before crumbling with a single, terrifying thought sneaking inside her head: what if she loses you again?

“She was being reckless.” Natasha broke the silence, her eyes were on the road but Wanda had a feeling the other woman had been observing her out of the corner of her eyes.

“Was she?”

Natasha snorted nodding, “she wanted to finish the mission as soon as she could, she was trying to go back to her monthly date with you.”

Wanda tensed clenching her fists closed, she could imagine you entering a fight in use of your powers to try and get the advantage to finish the mission. Natasha tilted her head turning the car around, her eyes found those of Wanda briefly before continuing.

“I know you and her had been seeing each other for quite some time.” Natasha read the uneasiness on Wanda, the way the younger woman shifted on the seat while lifting her face with her eyes flashing determination.

“Natasha, I…” Wanda started but then trailed off, she was not sure how to approach this conversation.

“Many would say what the both of you are doing is stupid, and it should only lead to you breaking her heart all over again.”

There was a flash of hurt in Wanda’s eyes, she lowered her gaze frowning at the veracity of those words. Everyone had been waiting for Wanda to mess up again. She had even doubt that any kind of relationship could be built with you for as long as her initial betrayal would not be forgotten. It was a constant ghost haunting her whenever she tried to get closer to you. But it was this what the both of you had been working on, it was something Wanda didn’t want to repeat.

“Will I ever be free of my past mistakes, Natasha?” Wanda finally asked tiredly, “I’ve been trying s hard to…”

“To forget about it?”

“To redeem myself.” Wanda retorted forcefully, frowning. “I know I mess up, there is nothing I can do about the past, but I can do something about my present and my future. I have been fighting so hard against the prejudices, against the anger and resentment you guys held against me.”

Wanda spoke with a shaky voice, yet there was full determination in her stance and the force behind her voice. She passed a hand through her locks, her eyes turning to the city spreading before them.

“The moment I saw Y/N once more my whole being shook with longing, my heart broke knowing I could never be with her again because of my mistakes.” Wanda felt the tears welling up in her eyes, she never noticed Natasha stopping the car nor the older woman glancing at her with understanding in her eyes.

“I tried to be her friend, to at least get a chance to earn her friendship and then…” Wanda closed her eyes the visions of the twins, of the lived her counterpart was living with you, the glimpses of what her future could be.

“…then she gave me this chance and I don’t wanna mess up. Not again. I just…I want to love her, I want to be with her.”

The tears rolled down, Wanda lowered her face unable to open her eyes and find herself under a glance of scepticism. She held back a sob when a warm hand placed itself on hers, Wanda opened her eyes finding the green eyes of Natasha glancing back into hers.

“I know it hasn’t been easy for you or her, Wanda. I just want to make sure this is something you and Y/N want.” Natasha softened leaning back into the seat. “I know you guys are till working on your relationship, and I’m glad you were given a second chance with her. Just…don’t break her heart.”

Wanda stood speechless for a moment, she shook her head wiping away her tears breaking into a tiny smile. This was the very first time she actually felt the complete approval from Natasha, it Wanda didn’t know how much it meant for hr until that moment.

“I won’t, believe me, all I want is to…to make her happy.” Wanda sighed looking back into the street. “To love her and be loved by her.”

“Good, then you two should just talk about what the next step is going to be.” Natasha stated seriously. “A lot of things had changed since you were a teen and the world is not what it used to be, perhaps it is time for you two to consider this before making any decisions.”

Wanda was slightly confused at this, she thought about those words furrowing her brows. What did she want with you? Of course, she thought about being with you but, where would she live from now on? Was she ready to leave Kamar-Taj? What did she want to do with her live? What about you?

Natasha chuckled shaking her head, “of course you two were far too busy to even think about this.”

“I haven’t had the time to actually sit down and think about it, you know?” Wanda answered defensively. “Ever since I was back and the fight with Thanos my life has been a rollercoaster, I haven’t had the time to think about anything at all.”

“I know.” Natasha shrugged turning the car on again. “It is worth thinking and talking about with Y/N, don’t you think? Just to know where you guys are doing from now on, how you guys want this second chance to go. Just, think about it before doing something rash or…”

Natasha didn’t finish her thoughts, but for Wanda it was quite obvious what she meant. The young witch leaned back against the seat thinking about this, up until that point she had not considered any of this and while Natasha finally reached the supermarket and spoke about the ingredients and the things they would need in the house, Wanda couldn’t help but thing of the conversation that was waiting her back in the Villa.

A conversation that might lead to the future she was looking with you.

_______________________________

America realized she had come into the strangest of families she could meet in her travels.

She sat at table watching as Natasha and Wanda worked around with the dishes and the food getting everything ready while Y/N and Yelena talked about football and the oncoming matches in the European league. The environment was finally free of any tension, and all that was left was a room filled with familiarity and hopefulness.

It had been a long way to get to this point, America had been jumping around universes before coming across you and the others. She knew that it had been a long way before you and the others could come into this kind of gathering; a year ago everyone had looked at Wanda with anger and resentment, but those stares had been changing with time and at the moment the only thing America could see was acceptance, on Natasha’s and Yelena’s side, and love on your part.

America couldn’t help but smile.

Even in the midst of such dangers in the world, even after all the hurt and misunderstanding there was still hope for something as beautiful as love and friendship was possible.

“Okay, you two just shut up and enjoy,” Natasha finally sat down nodding to Yelena and Y/N, the both of them turned to their plates, with Wanda sitting by your side.

“You guys really went out of your way to cook,” You softened your stare while turning to Wanda, “it’s good to know someone is out there to make sure Tasha is not burning pasta.”

Yelena started laughing until a napkin hit her face, Natasha glared at her sister who flipped her. The older woman raised a brow rolling her eyes at the mature response, America chuckled taking a sip from her glass.

“I burn it once, and in all honestly it wouldn’t have happened if you had collaborated a little.”

“Hey! It wasn’t my fault at all!”

“You were supposed to be watching over the water, Y/N.” Natasha replied dryly, you winced remembering the incident smiling sheepishly.

“Yeah, well…we got better after that incident.” You said turning to Wanda with a reassuring smile, Wanda merely chuckled turning to her food.

“I don’t have a problem cooking for you, so we can prevent any accident in the future.”

Wanda spoke before she could stop herself, she tensed lightly her eyes glancing at you with her breath caught in her throat. You nodded taking some of the pasta in your mouth, closing your eyes enjoying the taste of the sauce.

“Mmm, well if you cook like this, count me in.”

Natasha and Yelena glanced at one another before turning their attention to their food, Wanda grinned nodding silently. You took another bite and soon the conversation changed into what you and Wanda had done the day before and what were Yelena’s and America’s plans for the next couple of days.

The conversation went around the table with light topics and stares that spoke more than words. You smiled through the whole ordeal, your hand sneaking around to grab Wanda’s one giving her a reassuring squeeze. Wanda relaxed into your touch, the conversation she had with you the day before and the conversation she had with Natasha still dancing inside her head.

The afternoon sun snaked inside the room, your eyes fluttering open to find the wooden ceiling of your room darkening slightly while the day gave way to the night. The room had the windows opened, with a sweet breeze lurking around to freshen up your skin; there was not a single sound you could detect yet your powers ignited with the movement of a shadow in the far end of the room. You stretched sitting up to accommodate your frame, your eyes squinting to make sense of the form standing by the window.

Wanda Maximoff was standing on the far end of your room contemplating the red and yellowish hues of dusk breaking into the sky.  She had her arms around herself, leaning against the windowsill with her eyes staring far away.

You couldn’t help but soften under the sight, your heart beating painfully inside your chest. With some trouble, you fixed your posture and stood up; taking a deep breath you started making your way to her. Wanda shifted her weight turning around when she heard your approaching footsteps.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” She straightened up ready to come up to you but you stopped her with a gesture of your hand. She hesitated but waited until you reached out to her, a proud smile playing on your lips.

“See? I could do it.”

“I never doubt about your ability to do it, but the wisdom of forcing yourself to do so.” Wanda replied with a light scowl, “how are you feeling?”

“Much better, thank you.”

The sight beyond your window was breathtaking, you leaned against the rail of the window closing your eyes for a moment. Wanda observed you with a warm heart, her arms twitching at her sides until she chewed on her lower lip before wrapping her arms around your waist. You tilted your head, your eyes finding those of Wanda, you felt the corner of your lips twitching upwards while those green eyes twinkled with hesitation.

“This is quite a sight, what were you thinking about?” You leaned back snuggling closer to Wanda, the other woman felt her stomach broke into a million fluttering butterflies while her heart stopped at the gesture.

She tightened her hold on your placing her chin on your shoulder, “I was thinking about finding a job, perhaps finding a house in Ulsteinvik.”

Wanda waited patiently, she could feel the tension in your body and the hold of your breath as she revealed this.

“That sounds nice.” You replied finally breaking into a smile. “I know just the job position for you. I bet you would be a great teacher.”

Wanda chuckled shrugging, “perhaps. I just thought…I couldn’t keep running, and I don’t want to be away from you.”

“Would you stay with me?” You asked, more than living together your house was big enough to have her in there, Wanda hesitated before shaking her head.

“I want us to do this the right way, living with you right now would not be…right.”

You nodded accepting this, your hands rested on top of Wanda’s ones. The last lights of the day soon disappear and gave way to a fresh night; you rested in Wanda’s embrace for a while enjoying the warmth her body provided.

“This was my last mission, Wanda.” You finally stated, “I won’t be going out unless the world is really ending and there is no other option. America and Yelena, they are ready to take over but I just think this should be over. I won’t be a field agent, and while I would love to help around with some desk work…I don’t think I want to go out anymore.”

“I don’t want to fight anymore.” Wanda replied back, “I am tired, and the world is…unforgiven.”

“I know.”

Wanda pecked your cheek, “I will be with you, if you allow me and we can be normal together.”

You smiled nodding.

“I would like that.”

You always thought you wouldn’t be able to forgive Wanda for what she did.

A part of you had always hoped for a confrontation in which you would scream at her, you would hurt her and showed her how happy you were without her by your side. Anger and resentment had defined those first years after the breakup but then, after all that had happened, after everything the both of you had faced, you found yourself resting in her arms thinking about the future.

It was a second chance you didn’t regret at all.

You realized just that beyond that anger there was still love, and that not everything was about you being a hero and saving the world. You could step aside and still be yourself with the people you love by your side. You lifted your eyes to the darkening sky thanking whoever was watching that you had crossed paths with Wanda once more, now after all the scars had been heal you could start a new life, and this time around you would make sure that everything would be as it should have been the very first time.

A story about two broken people who found it in themselves to give each other a second chance to live, to love and to be happy.

[penkura]

knowing [8/8]

Summary: Sanji knew you were the one the moment he met you.

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

Warnings: None really. Normal One Piece stuff I guess.

Note: I changed my mind, I'm posting this today because I loved this and just can't wait any longer. Thank you all for reading this little fanfic!! I wrote this before I fully finished reading Wano, so it's not 100% accurate at first, but that's fine, this is a fanfic of course. I hope you all enjoy, and I do have another two one-shots connected to this series!

Taglist:

@jzkeisuke | @arcanumlaw

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4] ● [Ch. 5] ● [Ch. 6] ● [Ch. 7]

With Big Mom and Kaido defeated, Wano freed from the Animal Kingdom Pirates reign, you were beyond relieved when you'd heard you could all rest. Luffy and Zoro seemed near death, both had just woken up when you'd snuck out with Sanji to another area. He still needed rest more than you, and Chopper had followed along to make sure neither of you did anything to upset your wounds. You'd made it out with a few small burns, some scrapes and cuts, a slightly deeper wound on your abdomen, but Chopper had taken great care of you and gotten you as close to 100% as he could. Sanji too of course, he suffered slightly worse wounds than you did, but the geishas had taken great care of him and he had nowhere near the same battle damage as the other two members of your monster trio. Chopper had instructed him to lay down and rest, which Sanji did, trusting your doctor that he knew what was best, despite his wanting to join in whatever party was being started in the other room. You knew there was no way the people of Wano would let you leave without a large celebration, Sanji would just have to wait for that.

After Chopper left the infirmary you'd walked off to, you gave Sanji a smile while saying something about changing your own bandages real quick. Despite your insistence that it was fine, he looked away while you stripped off your shirt to change your bandages, instead quietly pulling something small out of his pocket to occupy his eyes, wondering if now was the best time or if he should wait.

"What's that you've got there, Sanji?"

Your voice brought him out of his millions of thoughts, making him decide that yes now's the time, before he smiled softly and held it up, making your eyes widen and your mouth open just a bit.

There's no way…no way, right?

"I picked this up in Dressrosa."

"Sanji, you did not."

Sanji grinned at you, nodding happily. "I did! I saw it and…I thought of you instantly."

It was a small ring he held in his hand, a thin silver band with some blue gem on it, perhaps a small sapphire, you weren't sure, but it was very pretty to you anyway. You didn't care for gaudy, showy jewelry anyway, so if this really was an engagement ring, you were all too ready to accept.

Even without a ring you'd accept. You loved Sanji, more than anything. If he had shown up to the women's bunks in his pajamas without a ring at 3am and asked you to marry him, you would accept even then. The middle of battle, though not his style, you'd say yes. An evening after dinner where you'd both drank a little too much and were giggly messes, if he said 'marry me' you'd accept instantly, whether you remembered it the next morning or not.

It didn't matter. You'd marry Sanji no matter how he proposed.

"Maybe I'm crazy, or all that wedding talk because of them got to me, or even us playing husband and wife for the time we did here, but…I'm certain of this." His voice was quiet, even though it was just the two of you at the moment, and it made you start to tear up.

It definitely was crazy. The fight with Kaido and Big Mom had ended just two days ago, you were still surprised Sanji was even capable of walking and sitting up right after his fight against Queen. You half wondered if he suffered a blow to the head that knocked something loose that was making him do this right now.

But really, you knew he hadn't. He was mentally sound, he knew what he was doing.

"Sanji…"

"I'm probably the worst mess of a man you've ever met, I'm worthless really, but I know I love you," Sanji smiled softly while you cried and gladly held your hand out for him to take when he reached out for it, "I don't want to ever again look at another woman the way I look at you. I can't imagine myself with anyone else, married to anyone else, becoming a parent with anyone else, if we're so blessed. Everything that's happened recently just made me more aware of that."

Sanji moved more towards the edge of the bed while gently pulling you closer to him. You couldn't have cared less if he was on one knee or not, it didn't matter to you.

What mattered was that it was Sanji.

You wished you weren't crying, especially when he pulled you down beside him, just to place his forehead against yours and wipe your happy tears away.

"I love you so much, [Y/N]. You mean the world to me and I just want to be with you forever. I wanted to ask you weeks ago now, even when we all met up again in Sabaody…but now feels like the perfect time. Please, [Y/N], will you marry me?"

Trying your hardest to stop crying, you nodded and kissed him, hoping he didn't mind your salty, teary kisses.

"Yes! Yes, a million times yes, my dear!"

Sanji pulled you into a tight hug that you returned, telling you again that he loved you and you responded in kind. You took a few minutes to fully calm down, and once you did, you let Sanji put the ring he'd bought all the way back in Dressrosa on your finger, not at all surprised it was a perfect fit. Of course he knew your ring size, either that or he borrowed one of your rings you wore for fun and took it with him to get the right size.

"A perfect fit."

"Just like us." You smiled brightly at Sanji, which he returned before kissing you again.

Your sweet moment was interrupted when the door to the infirmary almost flew open, and you jumped back up a bit, only to be relieved when you saw it was Zoro, who looked like he didn't know what he was even doing there.

"What do you want, moss head??"

"...looking for Chopper." Zoro's eye wandered over to you, noticing you'd been crying and he looked almost ready to cut down Sanji, until he took in the fact you now had a ring on your finger.

That same ring he'd watched Sanji pick out in Dressrosa.

"Oh!" You nodded, giving a smile. "He left a while ago, said he was going to go check on the Samurai and Luffy!"

Zoro nodded, turning to leave before he stopped and looked over his shoulder at you. "Congrats. If he hurts you, let me know and I'll kill him."

"Zoro!"

"As if you could, moss head!!"

"Sanji, stay in bed!" You pushed him back down when he went to get up, a scowl on his face while Zoro left and closed the door behind him. Sanji started complaining to you about the "stupid moss head" and how he couldn't touch him, but it made you laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh…it's just…it's like a little brother protecting his big sister…that's all Zoro means by it."

Somehow, Sanji understood what you meant when you said that. If his family had been different, he probably would have been the same with Reiju, protective of her when any potential boyfriends or suitors would come to see her, if they ever did considering how their father was. If your lives were different, if you had met under different circumstances, he was sure your biological brothers would be the same.

While he was thinking about it, Sanji barely realized you had crawled into bed with him, until you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him close. He did the same, kissing the top of your head as well.

"I love you, Sanji."

"I love you too."

I can't wait to marry you.

+!+

Once the Thousand Sunny had taken off from Wano, your next destination decided by the log pose, you were determined to be married with your found family as the witnesses. While in Wano, you and Sanji had slipped away to find something like a courthouse, whatever their equivalent was, to get a marriage certificate so you could have a small ceremony on the Sunny. It took a bit of time, but you found a place that processed marriage certificates and got one printed immediately, knowing that technically, as soon as you signed and dated it, you'd be husband and wife.

You hadn't told anyone yet, Zoro would never, you knew that, but you had told Sanji you wanted everyone there and to be married on the ship you called home. He quickly agreed, telling you that he'd do whatever you wanted for the wedding, while thinking it was the best place for you two to get married. You were both absolutely sure your crewmates would be happy for you, they'd all be glad to participate in the wedding and help you two tie the knot.

You also made Sanji promise not to spend so much time on the cake or to make it too big, though you had to give some leeway there due to Luffy. But he promised he wouldn't work on it so much that he was doing last minute touches when he was supposed to be saying his vows to you. You didn't want the wedding to be an extravagant, fancy affair. Just something small and simple with everyone you loved there.

Sanji didn't tell you, though, that he'd talked to Nami and told her you two were engaged and wanting to get married as soon as possible. She was so happy for the two of you that she burst into tears and hugged him, about to run off to find you when he stopped her. He wanted to surprise you with your parents and siblings at the ceremony, and knew your home was an island in the New World, so Nami put the ship on a detour there in the middle of the night when Sanji had a night watch, so no one would have any idea. There were no questions about where the ship was heading the next morning, and Nami was constantly talking about romance and things like that to you, trying to get you to spill your engagement to her. Anything she said you related back to Sanji with a smile, annoying her that you were acting so dense.

It was about two days before your unknown arrival to your home island that Sanji convinced you to tell everyone. You had gone over it multiple times in your head, wondering if it was a good time, before he told you that you'd probably never be ready to tell them, so might as well do so now. When he said that, you ended up agreeing and when everyone was on the deck that night, Sanji told them all you two had an announcement to make.

"You guys aren't gonna leave, are you??" Luffy was so terribly concerned that you and Sanji had chosen to leave the crew, but you quickly reassured him it wasn't anything like that.

"No, no, not at all! We," you took a breath and smiled at Sanji, taking his hand, "We've decided to get married."

"Ahh!"

"And we want the ceremony to be on Sunny in a few days."

"AHH!!"

Everyone was so excited for the two of you! Nami immediately ran over and hugged you, Robin joining her after a moment and both asking to see your ring, where Sanji got it, and what you were going to wear. Luffy laughed a bit and threw himself on Sanji, saying he was glad for the two of you. Brook said something weird about marriage; Franky was crying but patting Sanji on the back; Usopp wanted to know when and how you'd be married without a priest; Chopper said he was very excited for the two of you; Jimbei also gave his congratulations, saying he may not have known you both very long, but you seemed like quite the loving couple, and Zoro, who still viewed you as his sister, reiterated his previous statement of being willing to kill Sanji if he ever hurt you. Before Sanji could argue back at him, Zoro put a hand on his shoulder and congratulated him, causing everyone that heard him to be shocked, and then even more surprised when Sanji thanked him.

The Straw Hats threw a celebration party for the two of you the rest of the night, almost like an engagement party. There was a point where Sanji had slipped away, knowing you were in good hands with Nami and Robin, who were trying to help you decide on a few things for the wedding. He went back to your shared room, picking up the transponder snail you'd bought a while back, and made a call to the Baratie. He didn't let whoever picked up know it was him, requesting to speak to Zeff personally.

"Hey, old man, it's me."

"Sanji? What's this about, calling after heading off two years ago?"

"I…I had some news I wanted to tell you, that's all."

He couldn't see him, but Zeff was a slight bit concerned with how calm Sanji sounded, to the point he made him hold on while he transferred the call over to his personal snail.

"Sanji, you in here?" You had gone searching for your fiance once you noticed he was missing and found him in your room, he waved you over to sit beside him on the bed while he waited for Zeff to get back on the phone. "Who'd you call?"

"Zeff."

"Ooooh." You nodded and took his free hand in yours, Sanji gripping it tightly, nervously waiting.

"All right, what'd you wanna tell me, kid?"

"I'm…getting married in a few days. I just…I wanted you to know."

It was quiet for a bit, and you worried that maybe Zeff was angry that this was the first thing he'd heard from Sanji in over two years, but then heard laughter.

"So! You finally found a girl willing to put up with you, huh?"

You giggled and Sanji smiled.

"I found a girl that's done more than just put up with me."

The two of you stayed on the line with Zeff for a while longer, Sanji's tight grip on your hand loosening after he realized Zeff was truly happy for him. Eventually you decided to let him have his privacy with his true father, kissing his cheek and returning to the party your crewmates were still throwing.

You finally decided you'd get married four days later, the two of you were ready for this step and didn't want anything to interfere, not the Marines or another pirate, nothing.

However, when Nami had said you'd all reached an island to dock at, your breath caught in your throat and you started to tear up when you recognized the pier, despite it being nearly seven years since you'd last been there.

"This…this is my home."

"Yeah," Sanji held your hand and gave you a smile, "I…figured you'd want your family there when we got married, so I asked Nami if we could take a detour. Is…is this okay?"

You looked up at him and smiled brightly, despite the tears threatening to fall down your face. "Of course!!"

Once the Sunny was fully docked, you didn't bother waiting for your allowance from Nami, grabbing Sanji by the arm and dragging him in the direction of your childhood home. None of your crewmates bothered to stop you, they did stop Luffy from following and getting in the way of you introducing your fiance to your family.

To your surprise, your family already knew you were on the way, you figured Sanji had something to do with that as well (you'd be correct if you asked him). Your mom was the first to hug you, telling you how much she missed you and how beautiful you'd become in the last few years. Your dad told you the same, before he and your mom introduced themselves to Sanji, you weren't at all surprised at how easily he won them over despite not being able to ask their permission to marry you.

All your siblings ended up running at you when they knew you were there, and it made you beyond happy to see you had a new sister after all. She was a little more shy around you, but Sanji speaking to her convinced her that everything was all right. Everyone ended up mentioning how they had copies of your wanted poster, your brothers would brag to their friends that their big sister was a badass pirate while your sisters would use that as leverage against the boys in town they didn't like, and it all made you blush and become flustered.

Your parents insisted the two of you and the rest of your crewmates join them for dinner, which you happily accepted and so did Luffy when he heard. Your family gladly accepted your found family, sharing stories and having a lovely time with everyone around.

It got to be a little much for you, you had to step out on the porch for a bit so you didn't get too overwhelmed, Sanji following you a moment later to make sure you were okay.

"You know, sometimes, I wonder what would've happened if I hadn't left."

"Oh yeah?"  Sanji smiled a bit while lighting a cigarette and watching you.

You nodded, sitting down with your legs dangling off the edge of the porch, your youngest sister having followed you and Sanji out the door and now cuddling next to you. She'd opened up quickly and became attached to you and Sanji.

"I wonder if we ever would have met."

"I still would've found you."

"You're sure about that?" You laughed a bit, but Sanji sat down beside you, putting his arm around your shoulders.

"Luffy still would have come to the Baratie and convinced me to join him. We'd still have all the same adventures, and eventually end up here…where I'd find you. And I'd still be attracted to you, and try to get you to come with us, and we'd still end up together."

Humming a bit, you nodded.

"I know you'd still find me."

+!+

The next day was your wedding. You'd woken up early with a bit of happy anxiety, Nami and Robin were already up and ready to help you get dressed and do your hair. You'd ended up buying a white sundress with a [f/c] colored sash around the waist and white flats to make it simple, you never really wanted a fancy wedding dress anyway. Nami took a curling iron to your hair and added some soft curls, while Robin brought you a flower crown your sisters had made overnight for you to wear in place of a veil. Both girls were still beyond excited for you, and Nami kept giving you hugs through the morning. You and her were like sisters at this point, she'd already called being aunt to any kids you and Sanji may have in the future. Having her and Robin with you helped calm your nerves, and you were more than ready to get married to the love of your life.

Sanji, though, was almost a nervous wreck. He'd already gone through half a pack of cigarettes, before he even got dressed for your wedding. You'd told him during the events at Whole Cake Island that you really preferred black suits on him, so he gladly got one specifically for your wedding, choosing a [f/c] colored tie to match with you. He didn't know why he was so nervous, probably the fears that he wasn't good enough for you and wouldn't be able to make you happy were the cause, but he couldn't stop his racing mind. He tried everything but went back to smoking as his stress reliever, worried you'd change your mind at the last second and leave him.

"She's not gonna leave you."

Surprisingly, Zoro was the one to get Sanji to calm down.

"And what if she does?"

"She won't. She wouldn't have agreed to marry you and plan a wedding so quickly if she wasn't sure about it. If she didn't want to be with you she would've rejected your ass all the way back at Alabasta."

"What. How do you know about that?! I thought you didn’t know until Skypiea!"

Zoro rolled his visible eye and smirked.

"You guys weren't exactly subtle back then. Freaking weirdos making out in the kitchen."

Despite Zoro being amused, Sanji knew he was right. If you really didn't love him and were going to leave, you probably would have done so after everything that happened with his family and that attempted arranged marriage. Instead you had stuck by him, giving him a smile and hug when he first told you how much he loved you, repeating it to him every day since you all had left Thriller Bark, telling him even more so after you'd retrieved him from his screwed up family, giving him the time he needed before showering him in hugs, kisses, and constant 'I love you's so he knew you'd never leave him or let him go again, and that you understood what he was doing when he fought with Luffy and 'broke up' with you in front of his brothers and sister. When he told you everything about his childhood, despite your crying and wishing you'd been born in the North Blue so you could have been his friend, you accepted every bit of it, telling him how much his mother must have loved him and you would have loved to have met her. He'd never felt more relieved than when you said his past didn't matter, the things his father said didn't matter. What mattered was that he was Sanji and you loved him. That was the first time he'd cried to you, hugging you and letting you stroke his hair, while he thanked you for loving a “failure” like him.

"You're not a failure. You're Sanji, and you're perfect as you are."

Sanji knew Zoro was right, you'd never leave him. If you did he'd fight to get you back, but he was sure that wouldn't be necessary.

"Yeah, you're right. Thanks."

"No problem. …don't tell anyone about this."

"Wouldn't dare."

+!+

Your wedding ceremony went off without a hitch, several hours ago now, and you and Sanji were finally married. While you were being wed, you couldn't stop smiling and crying lightly, Sanji giving you soft sweet smiles while he held your hands. Your mother, Nami, Franky, and Brook were all blubbering messes, you wondered if they'd actually heard anything the whole time. Your dad was slightly teary, but he'd never fully admit that to you. All your siblings were excited, more so that they were on a pirate ship but your wedding was a nice excuse to be on the ship. Luffy couldn't stop grinning, he was beyond happy for the two of you. Usopp was also slightly teary, mostly because he couldn't believe you two were actually getting married. Chopper was anxiously waiting for when he could have cake, but he had told you when he saw you earlier that day that he thought you looked pretty. Robin smiled, looking at you like you were her baby sister who was getting married and she couldn't have been happier for you both. Jimbei acted as your priest, after you learned he actually could legally perform marriages, you practically begged him to be the one to marry you. He agreed quickly and you were grateful for it. Zoro, always the quiet one, watched without much emotion visible on his face, but those of you who knew him well enough could see he was happy for you.

Of course, you and Sanji were the happiest ones there. Your ceremony wasn't long, it didn't need to be really, just something small to show you were committed to each other, now and forever. When Jimbei pronounced you husband and wife, and said Sanji could kiss you, you had to keep yourself from almost bouncing out of your shoes in excitement. Once he did kiss you, everyone cheered for you, which made you giggle after breaking the kiss and giving Sanji a smile that he returned.

"We're married!"

He couldn't help it, Sanji picked you up and spun you around, he was so happy! You two had gone from awkwardly facing your feelings for each other, to now being deeply in love, and married finally. He set you back down, only to kiss you again, laying his forehead against yours afterwards.

"I love you, ma femme."

"I love you too, my husband!"

"Come on you lovebirds, let's start the reception!"

The reception, which was really just a normal Straw Hat party, went on for several hours. You had to step away at one point to bid farewell to your family, none of whom wanted to see you go but they understood you couldn't stay on your island for more than a few days, and the Sunny would be taking off in the morning.

Sanji noticed quickly you'd disappeared from his side while he was fighting to keep Luffy from finishing off your piece of cake, and when he saw where you were, he put Zoro in charge of keeping Luffy at bay so he could go stay with you.

Your family had already walked off the dock and back into town when you felt Sanji wrap his arms around your waist and place his chin on the top of your head.

"We'll come back someday."

"I know we will."

"And you can always call or write."

You nod, looking up at Sanji with a smile. "This was a wonderful surprise, thank you. It meant a lot to have them here."

Sanji returned your smile, kissing your forehead. "Anything for you, mon amour."

You were about to suggest the two of you slip out and go off to bed, before Luffy shouted your names.

"Come oooonnnn!! The party's for you guys!" Really he just wanted more cake, but Sanji and Zoro had stopped him from having anything more until you had what you wanted.

Grumbling a bit, Sanji pulled away but still held your waist, causing you to giggle a bit and turn around in his hold, putting your arms around his shoulders.

"A bit longer, then we'll go to bed." You whispered before kissing him with a smile.

He sighed but still nodded. "Fine, fine."

Your reception continued well into the night, you avoided drinking too much so you'd remember it not only in the morning but in years to come. Eventually everyone had either passed out or was calmed down enough to start cleaning, refusing any help from you or Sanji and telling you to both go on to bed, with a kind a smile from Robin or Nami but a sly smirk from Franky.

Once you did, you both simply admired each other's ring and how right it felt to have them now. Within a few more minutes your exhaustion was taking over and you took Sanji's hand in yours, snuggling right up next to him, causing him to do the same with you. You'd consummate your marriage another night, but for tonight, all you wanted was to bask in the fact you were married to the love of your life, and enjoy the warmth that came from knowing that you were his and he was yours. Sanji had tried to say something to you at one point, but you were so near sleep you didn't hear him, except for when he chuckled lightly and kissed the top of your head.

"I love you, [Y/N]...in every lifetime and every universe, I'll always love you."

[areyouwell]

Nostophilia

Noun: An extreme fondness for returning home. For returning to where the heart belongs.

Ch.10

Ch.9, Ch.8, Ch.7, Ch.6, Ch.5.5, Ch.5, Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <-

Pairing: Mutant!Reader x Logan Howlett

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: did y'all really think i was gonna leave it like that? im mean, but im not that mean <3

Taglist:@badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside @justice4billiam @holyhumorliteraturelight @cxptainbuck @sseleniaa @sadslasher13 @yallgotkik @whyamistillontumbler @maddiedinosaur @bethexo07 @pwpwppeepeoor @y08h

“Hey firefly,” Logan murmured as he set his jacket down on the back of the only chair in the room. The only piece of furniture in the room. It was unspeakably cruel, he thought, how much of your life you’d spent in clinical rooms such as this one, only to spend the rest of eternity in the exact same setting. The sphere of shadow pulsed dully with light like usual, an endless back and forth between your mutation and your brothers. Light encased in dark. 

It had been two years since you’d done this. Since you’d saved the lives of everyone you held dear by doing the one thing you’d always been warned against. You’d known the consequences. Of course you had. Charles hadn’t been subtle in reminding you that using your own shadow would result in this. But you’d done it to spare everyone. 

Crossing the empty, white room, Logan set his hand against the solid, thrumming surface, feeling the small pulses of energy within the prison of your own making. He hoped, somehow, you could still hear him. Still sense his presence, even though he knew it was unlikely. Jean had said he was just hurting himself by continuing to see you. But he dared to hope. For the first time in his godforsaken life, he allowed himself hope. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he murmured again, resting his brow beside his hand. He swore he could still feel you in there. Still smell that one shower gel you used to use. Smell the cherry-flavoured chapstick across your lips. “Sorry s’been a while. Charles has us run ragged with the government. Yeah, they’re still up in arms about the whole thing. Stuck-up pricks.” He growled, smoothing his thumb over the glassy surface of the sphere. “Tryna play it off like they had no goddamn clue any of this was happenin’.” He knew it was his mind playing tricks on him, his own hopes manifesting in his brain, but he indulged in the way he thought he felt you react, a ripple of irritation within the endless well of darkness. “Yeah, I know. We’re workin’ on it, kay? Promise.” 

He didn’t mind Charles working everyone overtime to figure everything out. He owed the Professor big time for working this deal. In exchange for everything the team knew collectively, he was allowed to come in and see you, or what was left of you, every now and then. No cameras, no observations, just you and him. Of course, it hadn’t been like that the first few times. Whatever you had done was completely new in terms of containment, and he used to grit his teeth at the way they poked and prodded what you’d become, searching for any kind of reaction. It was too reminiscent of what you’d already gone through, and he fucking wished you could have been held beneath the school. At least then he didn’t have to wait for fucking government permission to see you. 

It was torture, waiting for every request to be approved or denied, pacing in his room after Charles sent the first email, heading out on Scott’s bike just to blow off some goddamn steam and hoping the faint adrenaline rush would be enough to knock him out by the time he returned. 

It never was. 

With an exhausted sigh, Logan dragged the chair closer to you, the steel complaining beneath his weight as he took a seat. “Wish I had more to catch ya up on but uh, not much’s happened since the last time I was here. Kitty’s beggin’ me to bring her along, by the way. So’s Morgana.” Once again he let his hopes manifest, eyes tricking him into seeing the light within flicker slightly in what he interpreted as excitement. “Yeah? Well alright then, I’ll let 'em know.” He smiled slightly, before his expression faltered, a wave of heartbreaking longing spearing his heart. 

“They miss you, ya know. Kitty and Morgana. Fuck, we all miss you, but they both took it hard. Morgo’s kinda filled in your role, and Jade’s role before you, bein’ like a big sister to her. Oh, and you’ll be pleased to hear Marie and Bobby are finally datin’.” His mind saw the shadows ripple once again, the steady pulsing of light becoming irregular for a moment. “You’re tellin’ me. She kept cryin’ on my shoulder because he wouldn’t notice her or some shit like that. Guess he finally did.” He shrugged, resting his hand back on the surface of your prison, feeling the warmth of your phantom laughter. It sparked his own series of slight chuckles, his thumb smoothing over the surface of the darkness.  

“Erin dropped by the other day with Atlas. They’re uh, engaged now, if you can believe that.” He still couldn’t stand to be around her. After everything she did, the role she played in your death, whenever she would stop by, which was extremely few and far between, he’d always find somewhere else to be. In the weeks following your death, she’d stayed beneath the school in recovery. There was only so much Atlas could do against a slash to the throat, but Morgarna refused to speak to her for a full month afterwards. Even now the redhead was curt with her, only exchanging the briefest of pleasantries whenever they ‘were in the area’. Logan could see right through her ruse though. She was trying to drown her guilt in the empty forgiveness from her friend. Atlas may have been able to understand why she did what she did, but it had almost resulted in your death. 

That was something he could never forgive. 

“I won’t be goin’. To the wedding. Sorry if you wanted to hear how it goes but I think Morgo might make an appearance then dip pretty quick so I’ll get the details from her if ya want.” Something deep within the prison rippled slightly, and he couldn’t make up his mind whether or not it was anger or excitement. Though he guessed, with the last interaction between the two of you, it was most likely the former. Not that it was real. He had to remind himself of that. None of it was real. 

A heavy sense of loss weighed in his heart. Thinking about Erin and Atlas’ wedding made him feel physically sick, but not because of his deep hatred for the girl. But because he couldn’t stop thinking that it should have been you and him. One day, far off into the future, it should have been the two of you getting married. Starting a life together. Maybe one day, even a family. You’d never expressed explicit interest in having kids, but it was something he’d entertained before in the afterglows of your nights together. Something he was always too fucking afraid to bring up.

Now he’d never get the chance. 

“Sorry sweetheart,” he gave the surface of the sphere a soft pat as if you could sense his sudden shift in demeanour. “Just… gettin’ to that time again I guess,” he explained quietly. He never really knew what to do on the days of your anniversary. Should he celebrate? Should he mourn? Should he try and spend it with you in this fucking alabaster room or should he drown his sorrows in liquor and try to forget? The last two years he’d spent it doing the latter, whether he’d intended to or not. It burned to think of the life he could have lived with you, the things you could have done together. But it burned more to ignore it completely. 

Pain was a funny thing. No matter what he did, there really was nothing he could do to escape its claws. A rogue tear lined one of his eyes, and despite promising you he wouldn’t cry during these visits, there were times that even he couldn’t stop himself. “Fuck I miss you, Firefly. So fucking much…” There was so much he still had to say. So much he still had to do. And there had been for the last two years. He was stuck in this purgatory state, not really living but being unable to die. Just… existing. Surviving. And he knew you’d kick his ass for it. He vowed to live a life you’d be proud of, but that proved a lot harder than he thought it was going to be when the woman he wanted as his life partner couldn’t be by his side. 

The surface of the orb shimmered, the glow within stuttering slightly to his grieving mind’s eye. You were telling him off. That much he knew. “Yeah, ‘gotta get my shit together at some point’, right?” He chuckled to himself as he remembered the ways you would attempt to imitate his voice, the way your chin would tuck against your neck to reach the lower parts of your voice and yet still get nowhere near close to his registry. The way he would tell you to stop when, in reality, he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass if you did it forever, as long as you were by his side. 

But you weren’t. He couldn’t protect you. And he knew you’d beat his ass to the ground for the guilt he felt, but he couldn’t help it. He was supposed to protect you. Supposed to keep you safe. And you’d died doing the very same thing for him. The irony wasn’t lost on him, and if it didn’t feel like razor blades to the chest, he’d appreciate the way fate worked. 

If only. 

His phone bleeped from his jacket pocket and he grit his teeth together, closing his eyes against the spike of irritation that flared through his system. He knew who it was and what they wanted, but that didn’t mean he was going to answer straight away. That was until there were three more consecutive notifications, and with a rough sigh, he thrust his hand into the pocket and snatched out his phone. 

“Alright darlin’. Duty calls, somethin’ about a string of real strange murders in the area Chuck wants us to investigate. Thinks it’s some mutant goin’ on a spree,” he paused, feeling the energy within your prison shift uncomfortably. “When’ve you ever known me to be reckless?” The ghost of your mutation spiked beneath his palm and he blew out a laugh. “Okay, yep, I’ll be safe.”

Logan had a moment of self-awareness and the sinking realisation that he must be going insane. Who else would talk to the embodiment of their dead ex’s mutation as if it could hold a conversation? As if it were replying to him. He was going mad. 

With a heavy sigh, he stood from the chair, dragging it back to the corner of the room before swinging his jacket across his shoulders, settling the leather around his arms. After having such an intense moment of realisation, he forwent the usual kiss goodbye. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Promise,” he mumbled, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but here. Anywhere else he could be drinking himself into an early grave. Or he supposed, earlier grave. Maybe then he could see you again. 

Logan turned to leave, pausing as if to look back to you but decided against it. That was until he caught the reflection of the sphere in the glass of the door. Whilst yes, he was happy to admit he was crazy, he also knew when he was gaslighting himself, and when he was feeding his own delusions, which stopped the moment he stood from the chair. 

Then if that was true…

Why the fuck was the glow within the prison convulsing like that?

He turned back to the sphere, his head tilting to the side as he took a slow step forward. This wasn’t his imagination. Or if it was, he was a lot more tired than he thought he was. But no, it wasn’t his grief playing tricks on him. The light was fading and growing rapidly, like panicked breaths. And it wasn’t his imagination that felt the sharp, almost burst of kinetic energy when he placed his hand against the surface. There was always a hum of power that accompanied the sphere, but not like this.

Logan’s eyes widened slightly, fear icing his blood. What the hell was going on? If this was where he’d watch you fade away after two years of being like this, he didn’t think he could handle it. A bullet to the head wasn’t enough to kill him, something he’d already tried, but living after seeing what he dreaded to see simply wasn’t an option. 

A low, almost imperceptible hum accompanied the frantic pulsing, rising and falling with each anxious glow until even somebody without enhanced hearing would have been able to pick up on it. Taking a step back, Logan couldn’t help but feel yet another overwhelming sense of guilt. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. Did he touch the surface too much? Disturb whatever fragile balance you’d found with your brother? He swore lowly, looking around for anything or anyone that might know what the fuck was going on.

Crossing to the small control panel on the wall by the door, Logan jammed his thumb against the speaker, pressing the alarm multiple times before anybody came to the receiver. 

“What?”

“R’you not seein’ this? The fuck is goin’ on?” He snarled, panic rising in his voice as the usually solid surface of the prison started to writhe and hiss like a ball of angry snakes. 

“Hold please.”

“Don’t you fuckin’–” Logan couldn’t believe he’d just been told to hold whilst your mutation had started going fucking crazy. “Motherfucker!” He shouted loud enough to grab the attention of any officials who may be in the control room. Though he couldn’t tear his attention away from the now rapidly deteriorating shadows in the centre of the room. “No… no no nonoNO!” he roared desperately, his voice catching on the ghost of a sob. “I can’t… I can’t do this again, Firefly– please… please don’t make me do this again…” Logan fell to his knees, his head bowing hauntingly similar to the way it did the first time he lost you. “Don’t do this…”

“You didn’t kiss me goodbye.” 

Logan felt as if he’d just been struck by lightning, every hair on his body standing on end as goosebumps prickled his skin. He thought he would have to die before he heard that voice again. Slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his head. 

And his mind went blissfully blank, his heart freezing in his chest. He had to be dead. There was no other way this could be happening otherwise. No other way he’d be looking at you standing across from him, as beautiful as the day he lost you. 

“Hey, handsome.” Your smile was so fucking soft, he didn’t even attempt to cease the tears lining his eyes, flowing down the sides of his face. He staggered to his feet, unable to take his eyes off you. You were exactly the same other than one noticeable change. 

One of your eyes had shifted golden, your iris now the exact same hue as the ones your brother had. 

He whispered your name so delicately, as if any louder and you’d shatter in front of him, and he’d wake up from this dream. But you just smiled wider, nodding gently. He’d intended to approach you slowly, to work his way over to you, wade through the quagmire of confusion, elation, and heartbreak before he got to you. Until your knees buckled beneath you and you collapsed. He surged forward, his chest expanding as his hands graced your sides, pulling you into him as he cushioned your fall.

You were real. This was real.

You were corporeal, here, in his arms, with him. 

His mouth fell open with silent sobs, crushing you into him with careful force, in case you would shatter. Your scent wrapped around his heart like a blanket of comfort, inspiring the same feeling he would get as if he’d just come home to you after a long day. But it was the other way around. 

You’d come home to him.

“Sorry…” you murmured a little weakly against the scruff of his beard, your nose tucked into the side of his neck. “Been a while since I used legs…”

“Wh… how? I don’t– I thought– why?” He had so many fucking questions dancing in his head, a carousel of confusion twirling about his mind as he pulled you back so he could look at you. Truly look at you. 

“I said. You didn’t kiss me goodbye. Pissed me off.” You explained as flatly as you could whilst being utterly exhausted. Logan blinked rapidly, your explanation meaning absolutely nothing in the face of reality. 

“I don’t… understand. You came back after two years because I didn’t kiss you?”

You chuckled tiredly into his chest, barely strong enough to hold your own head up. So he did it for you, his hand cradling the back of your head, supporting you in any way he could. 

“I’m kidding. Jus' took me a while to thread myself back together, honestly. Look, new arms!” You lifted your arms as high as you could, which really wasn’t much considering your severe lack of strength. But Logan gently took your wrists in his hand, his thumb smoothing over the clear skin. No scars. No marks. Just you. And whilst those scars were a testament to everything you’d been through, everything you’d survived, the new meaning wasn’t lost on him.

This was a fresh start.

“And Rowan…?” He asked slowly, his eyes raking from your smooth wrists back up to your face, taking note of each vanished blemish he’d come to know so well. Your lips pulled into a slightly sad smile.

“He’s still here… just, not around, if that makes sense?” 

Brushing back a stray hair from your brow, Logan really took in your new appearance, unable to stop himself from smoothing your cheekbone beneath your one golden eye. “Yeah… it makes sense,” he kept his voice as steady as he could in the face of more emotion than he’d felt since losing you. He felt like he was trying to hold back a tsunami with a spatula, wanting nothing more than to crush you into his chest and cry until his voice was hoarse. “So… you could hear everything?”

“Every word.”

“And I wasn’t…” going crazy, he finished in his head, unable to voice his thoughts. But you knew. Your soft smile of understanding told him you knew. 

“No, you weren’t. It was all I could do, send little wisps and waves to let you know I was still there. Still listening.” You fell into a contemplative silence for a moment, your eyes closing as you rested tiredly against his chest. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Not giving up on me…”

The dam holding his emotions back cracked, breaking apart completely when he watched tears filter along your lash line. Knowing you didn’t have the strength to hold yourself up, he braced a broad palm against your back and the other against the side of your neck, pulling you up towards him and finally, finally sealing his lips to yours. 

He kissed you with fragile passion, terrified that, with nothing more than a light breeze, you’d be taken from him again. But the way your hands managed to slide up his chest to the scruff at his jaw, the way you leaned into him as much as you could, the way your lips parted for him to find his way home to you. It told him all he needed to know. 

No more experiments.

No more Kreva. 

No more fear of who or what you were. 

This was a new beginning. A fresh start. The start of the rest of your intertwined lives. The other half of his soul had come back to him, knitting together the shattered remains of two years spent grieving. 

Everything he wanted to say to you. Everything that was still left unsaid. He had a second chance. You’d gifted him a second chance. And he wasn’t about to let it slip through his fingers. Not again. 

Never again. 

“Never gonna give up on you, Firefly” he whispered against your lips, carding his hand through the roots of your hair. 

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

[sanjisluvbot]

Isekai Yandere Strawhats x Reader

Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

[ Check Masterlist for ch 9-19 ]

Sequel just uploaded 1

Life began to feel so boring. The days blended into one another and suddenly we’re in march. Staying up late catching up on your favorite show because there is nothing better to do right now. One piece was such a breathe of fresh air, full of adventure and characters that seem amazing to be around and explore the world with. You wished to be in the world where u can freely be who you wanted, the world where you weren’t shackled by the burdens of reality.

You’ve been around all the corners of the internet so you know of shifting and astral projection which is exactly what seems to be going on right now. Rewatching episodes leading up to the time skip around 4 in the morning till your eyes flutter shut. Suddenly the wafting scent of the ocean filled your nose. “ Is she a stowaway?” “ How have we just found her we haven’t been on land for over a week now”. You opened your eyes to the snout of a reindeer and other very familiar faces.

You sat up so fast knocking into the poor doctor. Panic set through you because the first assumption anyone would have is that they’re in a dream or— congrats you’ve finally lost your damn mind. “ Who are you people”.

“ We’ve got the same question for you”

“ well I asked first”

The blunt part of a sword was thrust into your face by a very angry green swordsman. Fear etched across your face you give him a once over. Zoro. To your left was Robin and chopper holding his snout on her lap. There should be absolutely no reason that you’re in this world with these wacky 15th century pirates from your goofy anime show. Your voice shakes as you try to convince the green haired man to stop threatening your life.

“ Listen this is surely a misunderstanding, I really don’t understand how I have gotten here and I’m not really too sure who you people are.”

Maybe if they think that I don’t know who they are I can figure out a way to get out of this mess without ruining the story.

“ What is your last memory before you woke up on our ship” a voice from behind spoke. Turning to the left at the top of the stairs was Nami with Sanji following behind her.

“ I was laying in my bed falling asleep and then I woke up here”

After that you were bombarded with questions, what’s your name, your age, if an 8ft skeleton can see your underwear and it nearly drained the life out of you. The sun was now beginning to set after such a long day of being interrogated by the crew you used to watch through a screen. The captain was sitting on the head of the Sunny watching the day fade away when he stretched his arm to you pulling you to sit with him.

It was quiet for a while and nerves began to set in. Does he see through me? I know a lot of people don’t give luffy the credit but he’s way more intelligent than you’d think. “ What is it like where you’re from y/n” he spoke as he turned to face you.

“ Very different.”

“ Tell me about it please”

The sun completely faded into night and the stars littered the sky while you told luffy about “ where you’re from” and he was absolutely entranced by the world he’s never been. You ended up telling Luffy the truth about your origins, somewhat about himself, there was just something so compelling and trusting about him you didn’t think nothing of it. You slept in the girls room next to Nami that night, thinking about the next step and getting home.

Was this really a dream or did your desire to escape mundane life make you shift into this world of unknown.

The next day you went to eat breakfast with the crew and luffy starts spouting all the things you told him the night before. With seemingly no thought behind his words as he swallowed everything on his plate, though his crew members all stopped to stare at you in confusion.

“ I thought you said you weren’t from here?”

“ You said you didn’t know how you got here”

“ Well I wasn’t exactly lying, I really don’t know how or why I’ve been transported into your world. I just didn’t want to scare you or make you think I’m crazy with all of this.”

Over the next few days you were beginning to settle with the crew, you spent hours getting to know everyone and having the most fun you’ve had in years. Nami and Robin were curious about your world and you were more than elated to tell them all the things you enjoyed. The boys liked when you played their silly games, Sanji was obsessed with everything about you and loved having you perched on the counter when he was cooking so you can serve as his taste tester.

Zoro only just began to acknowledge you after finding out you also had a love for drinking, it became really easy to bond with the man. You knew you had to go back but what’s the harm in spending time with such a loving group of people, it’s not everyday someone is given your experience don’t waste it being worried.

You were able to convince Nami to give you a blank sheet of paper where you wrote all the things you knew about shifting and astral projection. You’ve been with the crew over a week now spending every night trying to shift back to your world. Sometimes you feel close others are strangely disturbed by Robin and Nami whether they are sparking up a conversation with you or knocking things over which disturbs your concentration.

The next few days you began to see birds meaning you were finally reaching land, the sabody archipelago. You know the way this arch ends and you need to go home now before you spend two years on an unknown island doing who knows what because YOU aren’t a straw hat and you have no place where you can learn to polish your skills.

The bubbly island became visible and you’d be reaching it by midday, while you were sitting on the head of the Sunny with Luffy again he asked you his million dollar question.

“ Y/n join my crew” he smiled. Your cheeks burned and you had to turn away from the boy whose smile brightened all your days.

“ Luffy I would love to but—”

“ Great- EVERYONE Y/N” you clasped your hand over his mouth.

“ Luffy l can’t join your crew. I have to go home I don’t even belong in this world”

“ Why do you want to leave” sadness dripped from his voice.

“ Yeah, we’ve been having so much fun” the small doctor announced from the deck.

“ It has been very fun I’ll admit but I don’t belong here with you guys. I’ve got a whole life in my world— and a family and just so much to do.” You reasoned.

The rest of the day the crew seemed angry and distant, you simply couldn’t understand why. When they all found out where you really came from they said they would help you get home. During dinner that night you were seated between luffy and Zoro who barley uttered a word while hushed conversations were surrounding the rest of the table. It was insufferable and reminded you of elementary school when someone didn’t want to be your friend anymore and told everyone about it.

“ Luffy are you upset with me? I haven’t done anything wrong”

“ Why do you want to leave? You just joined the crew and were on a new island”

“ I never said I was joining your crew luffy”

“ you know the captain doesn’t take no for an answer y/n” Zoro chuckled.

With a huff you stood up everyone’s eyes landing on you. “ Are you all acting this way because you don’t want me to leave?”

“ Why would we want a crew member to leave us?” Nami’s voice wobbled as tears formed in her eyes. Are they serious? When did u ever agree or tell these people that you were a part of their crew.

“ Listen closely all of you. You have to understand I am not from here, I never joined the straw hats, and I don’t even have any powers I can’t protect myself.”

“ That’s why you have me Y/n-chwaaan”

“ ignore that idiot cook but you have Luffy and I, we wouldn’t let anything happen to you”

“ Who is an idiot you damn moss ball !”

A fight between the cook and the swordsman broke out and you would usually find everything hilarious but…

These people have convinced themselves you are one of them and they don’t want you to leave. You decided tonight will be the night where you will go home with or without their help especially because you already know what’s in store the next day. Laying next to Nami that night waiting for her breathing to even out so you can concentrate with no interruptions you hear soft sobbing.

“ Are you alright Nami..”

“ Y/n I know you want to go back but can you stay a little longer we all care about you and enjoy having you around. We really feel like you’re one of our crew mates”

“ Sure, I’m not missing anything important right now” lying is better than letting this girl cry all night. When her breathing finally evened out you were able to try again.

Eyes fluttering open you were finally in your own bedroom. It was just as you left it, your iPad paused on the intro to one piece and the sun was showing through your curtains.

I really did it.

Life began as usual but you had a newfound appreciation for all the little things that made life worth it. Friends and family found your new outlook pleasant and you finally felt like you turned on a new leaf. While you were getting ready for bed applying all of your creams and oils the Tv in the living room turned on.

Wealth, Fame, Power.

A chill ran through your spine, you haven’t watched the show in over a month in fear of being brought back into that world by some odd chance. Getting up to turn off the tv something in the hallway made a noise. The fear of someone or something being in your house had you clenching on the door knob for dear life.

Just open the door nothing is there you’re only scaring yourself.

Opening the door and walking down the dark hallway into the softly illuminated living room the episode of the strawhats finally meeting up after two years was playing.

“ My favorite arch I should rewatch soon”

“ Why don’t you live it instead?” A voice from behind hissed.

You felt your heart thumping in your ears as you slowly turned to be met with a very angry Captain.

——

Not proofread ! 🫶🏽

I was inspired by a similar stories I’ve seen down the tl hope you enjoyed. Pt 2 coming soon maybe

[into-the-feniverse]

Finished reading Trigun/TriMax a couple days ago and have been feverishly trying to piece together a timeline, so here’s the result of that ✨

EDIT: as of 3/13/24 this has been UPDATED

For a more detailed timeline (with vol/ch marks): google sheet

Full res of the graphic (& other resources): bit.l/trigunresources

Notes & rest of the timeline under the cut!

Edits as of 3/13/24

The detailed spreadsheet is organized and color coded! If you'd like a more concise breakdown of events/see some of my reasoning behind certain time stamps feel free to skim through that

Changed where in the timeline the Maylene and Wolfwood events happened (originally where I had placed them would have made Maylene like 6 when she and Wolfwood reunited which is NOT correct)

moved where in the timeline Knives started collecting the GungHo Guns (at latest he started in 0090 (20 years before 0110) since it's noted that Monev has been training in a cellar for the past 20 years

Moved where Knives initially tracked down Conrad (felt like it needed to happen at least a decade before July)

Changed up some of the months (personally, I don't think the Ark launched in December, since that'd put Milly and Meryl's arrival to the colony in July, which wouldn't make sense. So I placed the ark launch in October which of course offset some of the other month stand ins)

Added an earth year for when Knives and Vash are born. The explanation is I think at minimum there was at least a 2 year period between them and Tesla (since Rem was around for that whole process). I do think it was more than that, but that’s the earliest possible year I think it could have happened. Personally I’m more in the camp of 5-10 years, but def not 50 like in tristamp

Old Notes:

If you see any typos or phrase inconsistencies: no you don’t 💕 (😭)

Blue text can be completely ignored, that’s just kinda my personal preference/wild guesstimating of when “exactly” those events happened

Blue lines can also be ignored, they’re also just rough guesstimates on where exactly in the timeline these could have happened

The distance of the lines from one another doesn’t really mean anything, I started trying to follow a system to notate when things happened really close together but it was//// not consistently done ngl

Fun fact: by the time Wolfwood leaves the orphanage Meryl is 18! And she was 14 at the time of July’s destruction

Additional fun fact: Brad is 17 when he and sensei meet up with Vash in the Factioned city (which I think is absolutely RIDICULOUS), and we know this because he was 4 the one/last time he had met Vash and it’s been 13 years since

It was noted by Karen, one of Meryl’s coworkers, that she and Milly had been on assignment with Vash for about 4 months. (Might be that they were out searching for him during that time as well, but I’m choosing to interpret it as they were actually with him for that amount of time)

I’m also working on a 98 timeline for comparison (but more like just sequence of events cause I don’t think I have the patience to sift through the lore quite as much… mainly making it just to clarify how the anime delineates from the manga)

I am//::: feeling v unhinged after this and feel like it could be improved/i need to do a more thorough read, but I’m calling it quits for now before I actually go insane (but hopefully some people will find it somewhat helpful!)

Also: if anybody has any notes to add or clarifications/corrections I would be more than happy to hear them 👂

[acesw]

a short patch timeline on reverse 1999

So I've been going back and forth for almost a year now on comprehending and helping people comprehend the timeline in Reverse: 1999 because oh my god, it's so, so convoluted that it's still taking a long time for me to even write down the information without overexplaining it. And that's just the main story.

However, I've been able to piece together the timeline events by patch and chapter to make things easier for everyone. (...unless you want me to even include the anecdotes, which is another can of worms I'd like to not open.)

However, since 2.0 forwards will be taking place after 1.9, I won't be including the patch names. But, I will put their placements in the timeline without making specific notes to avoid spoilers.

I'd like to first note that 1.6 (Notes on Shuori) has no definite placement on the timeline. The reason why is that 1.6 is personally considered a timeline anomaly; there are plot holes and information that made it difficult to deduce when it took place. (i.e. Yenisei's origins, Getian's character story, Bessmert's* presence) For now, I will leave this out.

Additionally, a lot of the character stories take place between the past and the future. Thus, the character story that chronologically takes place the earliest by far is Lucy's while the latest would be Ezra's.

—

First of all, we start with 1.8 (Farewell, Rayashki) in its entirety. From Windsong's past, to her arrival in Rayashki, to when the second "Storm" took place, and Vila and the kids needed to adjust to this new normal.

Next is Chapter 3 (Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien) and Chapter 5's interchapter. (The Star) Both the story of Vertin's becoming of the Timekeeper, and Greta Hofmann's experience with the Apeiron group are both aligned. Greta even mentions Vertin in her log after returning to the Foundation.

Afterwards we skip to 4 years later, and we're now in 1966. (Post First "Storm") Three events occur here. First, 1.1, (Theft of the Rimet Cup) then 1.3, (Journey to Mor Pankh) and then finally, the Prologue of our story. (This is Tomorrow)

Its then quite straightforward afterwards. We immediately follow up with the first 4 Chapters taking us through 1929 to late 1913. Then afterwards, we have Chapters 5-7 taking place within the first 3 weeks of January 1914, and then we're immediately taken to August 1990 at the end of Chapter 7.

I'd like to also add that within those 3 chapters, both rougelikes (Echoes in the Mountains and Series of Dusks) took place within the same time. Although, Series of Dusks ends before Chapter 7 due to Semmelweis and Lorelei leaving with the Foundation right before the "Storm" hit.

Now, in 1990, we start with 1.2 (Nightmare at Green Lake) followed by patches 2.0-2.2, all of which take place in immediate succession. And then for now, we end with 1.5. (Revival! Of the Uluru Games)

So if I put all of these in one list, it looks like this:

Notes on Shuori (1.6) - Undetermined placement

Farewell, Rayashki (1.8) - 1999+1 (1996) -> 1999+2 (1985)

Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien + The Star (Ch. 3 and Ch. 5 Interchapter) - 1999+4 (1987)

Theft of the Rimet Cup (1.1) - March 1966

Journey to Mor Pankh (1.3) - April-May 1966

This is Tomorrow (Prologue) - Jun. 3 1966 -> Feb. 14 1929

In Our Time (Ch. 1) - Feb. 14 1929

Tender is the Night (Ch. 2) - Feb. 15 1929 -> Aug. 1913

Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien (Ch. 3 - Present Time) - Aug. 25 1913

El Oro de Los Tigres (Ch. 4) - Aug. 26 -> Oct. 10 1913

Prisoner in The Cave (Ch. 5) - Dec. 24 - Jan. 4 1914

The Star (Ch. 5 - Interchapter) - Jan. 4 1914

Echoes in the Mountain (Rougelike 1) - Undetermined time, before Jan. 8 1914

E lucevan le Stelle (Ch. 6) - Jan. 6-12 1914

Series of Dusks (Rougelike 2) - Jan. 8-13 1914

Vereinsamt (Ch. 7) - Jan. 12-13 1914 -> Aug. 1990

Nightmare of Green Lake (1.2) - Sept. - Oct. 1990

Patches 2.0 - 2.2 - Sept. - Nov. 1990

Revival! Of the Uluru Games (1.5) - Jan 1991

The story can only get even more convoluted from here. As of the moment, I've been sort of working on a larger timeline to piece the entire story together, especially since we've yet to finish it before the story ends. New stories and information continuously flows in the meantime.

[wardenparker]

Bones Full of Words, ch 7

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 8.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia (sometimes internalized and sometimes not), canon typical violence* Fatphobia, internalized fatphobia, self-esteem issues. Flirting, objectification, girl talk. Jealousy. Summary: Elisa needs help from Connie, you have a heart-to-heart with Inez, and Chi-Chi is done with all the humans' bullshit. Notes: The tension rises! Apologies for any errors I might have missed. Ya girl had a hell of a week this week.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

It wouldn't be another day in Bogotá without something unusual dropping directly into the lives of the Murphys or Javier Peña, but this is out of the ordinary even for them. Connie hustles Elisa down the hallway toward Javi's apartment, explaining that while Steve is already at work, there is a chance Javi isn't yet.

"I just hope he's here," she tells Elisa as she knocks on the door of Javi's apartment.

It's a rare morning that he has the apartment to himself. You had decided to get up early and run some errands before you work on your story. Not even telling him what this next piece is about, you had played things close to the vest. There had been a truce of sorts between you and him, an air of anticipation, as if both of you are waiting for some kind of sign. When someone knocks at the door, he sighs and crushes out his cigarette before getting off the couch and opening the door.

"Well, what have we here?" Javi drawls, looking between the two women when he opens the door.

Connie is too keyed up on the information that Lelisa has just given her to roll her eyes about his greeting. "I'll explain later," she assures him, knowing that Javi will trust her like he would trust Steve. Instead, she looks to Elisa. "I'll be right back. Go." Ushering Elisa inside, she doesn't even wait for the door to close before she takes off to call Steve at the office.

Javi frowns and turns back towards Elisa, wanting someone to tell him something about what the hell is going on. “I take it this isn’t a social call.”

“Not exactly,” Elisa admits, hustling inside when Connie urges her forward and only breathing again when Javi reluctantly shuts the door behind them.

“Fuck.” Javi huffs slightly and motions her farther inside the apartment, happy that you are out for the morning. “Want a drink?”

"Coffee?" It's a little too early for liquor, even for her. "I am sorry to barge in like this."

“Yeah, uh,” he had made an entire pot out of habit, even though you were already gone, so there’s plenty left. “Let me get you a cup. You like creamer? Sugar?”

"Black is fine." Her hands are in the pockets of her scrubs as she looks around the apartment, only to be immediately greeted by the penetrative glare of an enormous dog. It doesn't look dangerous, necessarily, but it doesn't look too happy to see her either.

“Okay.” He pours the cup and turns to hand it to her, watching her warily eye the dog. “That’s Chi Chi.” He tells her. “My- uh, roommate’s dog.” He flusters slightly because he doesn’t know if he should tell this woman your connection to him.

"Oh." Pointing out that she didn't know that Javi had a roommate feels useless since they barely know each other, but Elisa eyes the large dog back before gratefully accepting the coffee cup from Javi's hand. "Um...hi Chi-Chi." It's an attempt, cooing at the dog awkwardly in that high pitched voice that she knows people use with dogs and sometimes cats. She's really not a pet person at all and it probably shows.

The dog watches her for another moment before she hefts herself up off the ground where she had been laying to jump up on the couch and flop back down as if to tell her that she can’t sit there.

"She didn't bark." Elisa sighs in relief. "I'm taking that as a good sign."

He chuckles and doesn’t mention that the dog is basically ignoring her. “Come sit at the table and tell me what is going on.”

"I'm not entirely sure." Elisa admits. She sits down at the table with Javi but her leg begins to bounce with nerves, too jittery to sit still. "I know that Pablo Escobar is planning something with the communist group M-19. I do not know what it is, but I know it will be bad. I told Connie to warn her husband, and asked her to hide me. That is why she brought me to you."

His eyes narrow and he leans forward. “And how do you know what he has planned with M-19?” He demands.

What is the newspapers always say? She purses her lips together and holds the coffee mug between both hands as if she's willing herself to calm down. "A reliable source," she tells him firmly.

“Who is your source?” Javi asks, pressing the point and reaching for his cigarettes. “We can’t help you if we don’t know the information is good.”

Elisa sighs, frowning a little more deeply, and sips the scalding hot coffee. "My ex." She had ended things the second she found out that idiot was making deals with Escobar, so at least it was accurate.

He hums, shaking out a cigarette and offering her one. “What’s his name?”

"Iván Torres." Assuming that a DEA agent involved in things here will know who the members of M-19 are, Elisa knows he will put the pieces together. Realize that she, too, is a member of the group. But the group has changed. Their goals and their loyalties are no longer what she herself was fighting for.

Javi rocks his jaw and stares at her for a moment. If her boyfriend is the leader of M-19. She is involved. “Hell of a joke.” He muses, smirking slightly as he remembers her saying she was a communist.

"I thought it matched a DEA agent joking about being CIA," she admits, though it seems far less amusing now.

“Fair enough.” He knows everyone has their secrets and he’s not as hard to get communists as the Marines stationed at the embassy are. It’s not his place to really care about it. He’s here for the drugs. “Start from the beginning.”

"Last night I went to see Iván after work," Elisa explains, her fingers nervously but soundlessly tapping on the sides of the mug in her hands. "When I went to his house, a man with a gun opened the door. Which is...not unusual, I admit. But I didn't not recognize this one. He demanded to know what I wanted, and I explained that I was Iván's girlfriend. He let me in, but when I walked into the living room, Ivan was sitting on the couch with Escobar."

Javi reaches for the notepad that seems to a constant on the table since you’ve moved in and the pencil beside it. He will need to take notes.

"They shook hands, and said they had a deal," she goes on. "And then Escobar left with his men."

“Anything else? How did he act when Escobar left? What did he say?” He fires off the questions quickly.

"He was not exactly happy." Sipping the coffee simply to have something else to do, Elisa breathes deeply again. "He said that he would not tell me what they were planning unless I agreed to be a part of it, but I cannot do that." Her eyes flick up, finding Javi watching her intently. "He made the deal for money. To fund the revolution the way he wants it. But I joined the fight for the people. Not a drug trafficker."

“Noble.” He snorts, aware that M-19’s kidnappings had resulted in deaths.

"I don't claim to be perfect." Elisa bristles, and rightfully so. "No one is. Nothing can be."

“You’re right, but if your cause needs you to kidnapped people, maybe it’s not the right one.” He points out before he offers her a cigarette. “I’m not judging. You did what you thought was right at the time.”

The slight pause before she accepts the cigarette is time to consider, but she is not here to debate with him. Just to report what happened last night to someone who may be able to help her. "I have heard of the interrogation methods your agents and your friends in Search-Bloc use to get information." She inhales smoke from the cigarette after lighting it and sighs inwardly at the rush of nicotine. At the moment, it is more soothing than anything else. "It is not worth fighting for moral superiority. We can at least agree that Escobar is worse."

He mulls over the comment and concedes. “Do you know when this plan is going down?” He asks.

"Ivan is impatient," she tells him, taking another drag from the cigarette. "It will be soon."

He snorts and wishes that Escobar would be impatient. Impatient men make mistakes. “So what do you want from us?” He asks, coming to the real reason why Elisa is at his door and not going to the Embassy.

It's an uncomfortable question, but she deserves it. Nothing in this world is free. There is a price for everything and hers is crystal clear at this point. "Information in exchange for protection. I have told you what I know, and I have a target on my back now that I witnessed Ivan and Escobar together but refused to cooperate. I need protection."

He knew that was the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it. To see the fear flash in her eyes and know that she understands the danger she has put herself in. “We’ll get you out.” He promises, reaching out and touching her hand.

"Thank you." There is more comfort in the warmth of his hand than she expected. Not just the placation of words, but actual assurance. She believes he will keep his promise. That the upper hand she has given him won't be abused. That she is safe.

“I’m going to need you to go over it again.” Javi tells her softly. “Everything, time of day - where exactly you were, right down to what Escobar was wearing and what the men he was with looked like.” It’s specifics, but that is what is needed.

"I understand." She is also hoping that her cooperation bodes well for what will happen to her afterward. She has willingly put herself in the hands of the American authorities and that will hopefully mean some kind of help for her to keep her out of the hands of Colombian authorities. Or worse, the sicarios.

So she goes through every detail. Working hard to recall every word that was said and everything about the other men who were in the room last night. She even goes so far as to draw a diagram of the room on Javi's notepad with figures marking each person and their name or description. Everything that she can possibly give, she does.

Javi takes notes, meticulously. Cigarette after cigarette is lit and smoked as he goes over the questions again and again, wanting to pull every piece of information out of her as he can. Until he feels like he's gotten everything. "Good." He nods as he looks up at her again. "This is good." Shooting her a smile, he tilts his head. "When you go to America - I wouldn't mention being a communist."

"You'll have to teach me how to talk like an American," she huffs, trying for a laugh but just feeling exhausted.

He knows she’s flirting and he would brush it off, but he’s a little raw from spending so much time with you. He had gone by the brothel the other day and seen you leaving, making him turn around. “Don’t worry.” He promises, shooting her a wink. “You’ll be ready by the time you leave.”

"You are very confident that the ambassador will reward you for my information." And, if she's honest? His confidence is extremely relieving. "I hope you're right."

“We have the upper hand.” Javi admits. “Escobar is escalating in violence and they want him gone.”

"Then I hope you're right even more." She murmurs, knowing that since Escobar has seen her face he surely has learned her name, and that staying here is now mortally dangerous.

“I am.” He’s more confident, but he crushes out his cigarette and stands. “I’ve got to make a call.”

"I'll just...sit tight." Elisa nods and sits back in her seat.

“There’s food in the kitchen.” Javi gestures towards the fridge, knowing that you have stocked it again. “Help yourself.”

She thanks him but doesn't move, watching Javi disappear into the next room while she crosses one leg over the other at the table. The dog has fully dismissed her now and she's sitting alone -- waiting to see what the next step of her future will be.

Javi calls the Embassy and asks to be put through to Steve’s desk. “Fuck, what the hell is your wife doing?” He demands when the phone is picks up and Murphy identifies himself.

"Taking care of a friend." Steve deadpans. He is too busy staring at the small, portable television they keep in the office to pay Javi too much heed at the moment. "Jav," he grunts, inhaling a lung full of nicotine as he watches the live feed on screen. "She called me to tell me about Elisa. I've already told the ambassador."

“And?” Javi asks, hating how he is having to drag information out of Steve right now. “What did she say?” It’s probably a good thing that Steve talked to the ambassador instead of him. She’s still pissed at him about Helena and she might hold that against Elisa.

“Don’t get pissy with me, Peña, I didn’t know any of them.” Steve huffs down the phone, before wiping one hand down the side of his face in aggravation. “Turn on the damn tv. M-19 has already attacked the Palace of Justice. But thanks to her we can link Escobar to it.”

“Goddamn.” Javi hisses and shakes his head, reaching for the remote to the tv in the bedroom. It might be a little excessive to have a tv in here, but he liked watching the news while he gets dressed.

“Keep her safe.” Steve advises, rustling through papers in his desk. He knows he doesn’t have to tell his partner that, but something in him knows that his wife’s friend truly does need the protection.

“She put Escobar in the room with the leader of M-19.” Javi huffs. “She’s going nowhere, but she’s going to cause problems because she’s a communist.”

“Of course she is.” The other man groans in irritated response. “Let’s just keep that part under our hats for now, okay?”

He snorts as he watches the screen. “As much as we can.” He agrees. “Who knows what will happen after this.”

“Don’t come in today.” As much as he hates having to deal with the official shit himself, the place Javi needs to be right now is in his apartment keeping Elisa safe. “Get everything you possibly can out of her. Get that reporter to help you if you have to, but we need everything.” The question of why or how Javier Peña has an American reporter living with him when they’re not fucking — and for all accounts barely like each other — will keep for another day. Today Steve Murphy is just willing to make the most of it.

Javi stiffens, realizing that you will ask questions about why Elisa is here. Now he has to figure out how he’s going to have you living here and the woman he is now tasked with keeping safe. “Yeah. Good idea.” He mutters.

“You okay?” Murphy asks, though the question is absent. He’s watching the small tv in the office again. “Don’t get weird on me now, man.”

Javi snorts and shakes his head. “I’m the weird one?” He demands. “You are living in Colombia and your Spanish is shit, you fucking hillbilly.” He knows the asshole isn’t even paying attention. “Let me know when you hear anything.” He demands and hangs the phone up on him before he can give a half assed answer.

Elisa is still sitting at the table when Javier comes back into the room, legs crossed and nervously picking at her nails.

He rubs his hands on his thighs and sighs. “So, uh, you’re gonna be here until we can get you to the US.” He tells her. “The plan is already rolling. And Escobar will be looking for you.”

A string of curses roll off her tongue but she nods, ultimately sighing in resignation. The hand she waves around his apartment is equally resigned. "Your girlfriend will not like it, I'm sure. But I will keep to myself."

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Javi frowns, the words feeling a little traitorous, but they are the truth. You aren’t his girlfriend. “She sleeps in the other bedroom.” He points out.

"Your...friend..." Instinct tells her the situation is more complicated than he is letting on, but Elisa waves that away for now. "If she is in the other room...where exactly will I be sleeping?"

“Uh—” He hesitates for a moment, knowing that there is another room, but he knows that you’ve started taking it over slowly as an office space when you aren’t working at the kitchen table. For some reason, he’s hesitant to offer it to her without talking to you.

"I don't suppose..." Elisa looks up at him, several weeks of having seen him fleetingly in a small handful of social situations with the Murphys having piqued her interest in him intensely. "You would mind sharing?"

His cock twitches immediately and he lifts a brow at her suggestion. “Moving on from your ex?” He asks with the ghost of a small smirk lifting the edge of his mustache.

"I have been thinking about it." She admits, standing from her chair when his eyebrow raises instead in invitation. "I have been thinking about it since we met at lunch."

“Yeah?” He hums, his eyes dragging up and down her body and he can’t deny that he wants to fuck her. “You don’t have to fuck me to stay here.” He wants to make that clear from the onset. He doesn’t play that kind of shit.

"Of course not." Elisa's head tilts slightly to one side, but she makes no question about returning his gaze. "If I thought you would demand it of me, I would have left already. But, why not find some enjoyment out of an otherwise stressful situation?"

“Cumming is a good way to relax.” He chuckles, smirking in a charming way that you’ve accused him of using to his advantage at times.

"To keep distracted." She agrees with a nod, stepping closer once more. "And pass the time."

“Pass the time, hm?” He reaches out and grabs her waist to drag her closer to him. “Want me to show you the bedroom where you’ll sleep?” He jokes.

"In a minute." Elisa insists, taking that moment and the opportunity it offers, and wraps her arms around Javi's neck to pull him into a kiss.

He doesn’t hesitate, although there’s a thought in the back of his mind as he leans into the movement and presses his lips to hers. He wonders what you are doing right this second.

******

Inez’s new apartment is a walk-up in a part of town that makes you think she might need Chi-Chi more than you do. If the sweet dog hadn’t warmed up to Javier so quickly and thoroughly, you might even be moved to suggest it, but knocking on your friend’s door brings only one thought to the forefront. You can’t wait to hug her and have a good gossip about something other than Javier.

Opening the door requires many locks to be unbolted, but when they are done, she throws the door open happily. “You’re here!” She scoops you up and wraps her arms around you. “I’ve missed seeing you!”

“Hey gorgeous!” You bury yourself in the hug, letting her drag you inside and bundle you up in it, returning the tight squeeze with enthusiasm. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“You look great.” Inez declares. “How have you been? I heard the club will be opening again soon.”

“Yeah, I heard they found new owners and the remodel will be done soon.” Javier and his partner had been keep close tabs on the building, so you’re better than usually informed about the space. “Are you…going back to working there?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs slightly, trying not to think about the fact that she could have been killed if she was working that night. “The tips were good, but I don’t know if I want to risk it.” She tilts her head. “How’s Alex?”

“You deserve a better place to work than that.” Giving her one more squeeze, you follow her into the small space and plop down on the sofa in her living room with her. There is already a bottle of rum out and glasses, and you groan with delight when she starts to pour. “The other thing, though…I dumped him.”

“Good.” She hadn’t really liked the vibe she got from Alex, but she had never said anything. He had seemed to entertain you and make you happy, so that was all that mattered to her.

“You didn’t like him either, huh?” You huff at her and roll your eyes. “You guys need to say something. Señora Perrín positively danced when she found out.”

“You seemed like you needed the confidence boost.” Inez shrugs and isn’t going to apologize. “Besides if he was amazing, we would be wrong to have talked ill of him.”

“Well, it turns out he was a piece of shit, so he’s not worth wasting breath on anymore.” Raising the glass she hands you, you tap it against hers and savor the friendly sound of clinking glass. “Salud.”

“Damn.” She shakes her head. “I was hoping he was on of the good spooks.”

“I don’t think there’s any such thing.” At least not that you’ve met. And you’ve now met plenty of them. “Chi-Chi sends her love, by the way.”

“I miss that dog.” She laughs, shaking her head. “So where are you staying? Señora Perrín said you had a safe place but she didn’t explain.”

“Yeah, I…” There is no real use in sugar coating it, and your mind is a little fried from chasing down a lead in your next story all damn morning and afternoon. So you just end up shrugging. “Do you remember that guy I went to stay with while Helena was hurt?” You ask, unsure how Inez will react.

“The asshole you couldn’t stand?” She frowns and shakes her head. “What about him?”

“Yeah.” That is what you said, after all. Inez hasn’t been looped in about Javier being your roommate because it’s been so long since you saw her last. “He’s, uh…he’s sort of my roommate now. Or I’m his roommate, I guess you’d say.”

“And you haven’t killed him?” She snorts and looks impressed. “You were not captivated by that guy.” She reminds you. “Honestly? It seemed like you had been interested and he rejected you.”

"Oh we're getting into it early today, huh?" Inez is the friend you can be most honest with, and it's not necessarily surprising that she would be able to cracks these topics open with you. If you had been hoping to avoid the topic of Javier, you are sorely mistaken. "Alright, if we're going to get into this, then what are we having for dinner? Because I'm about to spill my guts to you so I need a full belly for it."

She snorts and grins at you. “I ordered in.” She tells you. “It’s in the kitchen, already. I got Indian.”

"Gorgeous," you groan happily. Samosas and butter chicken and pumpkin curry will make this conversation go much more easily. "I'm sorry it's been so long since we did this, but at least there's plenty to talk about."

“There has been a lot that has changed.” She shrugs slightly, although she has missed sharing some downtime meals with you. Her neighbors aren’t the best. “But now we can spend the evening talking.”

The two of you bustle around her tiny kitchen for a few minutes, bringing take out containers, plates, and forks out to the living room. Once you're sitting again, Inez looks at you expectantly and you blow out a breath. "Okay," you submit, dipping the corner of one samosa in the cilantro sauce that the restaurant sent. "First of all, he is really hot. I'm not going to deny that."

“I have to meet this guy.” She grunts, knowing that you have good taste in attractiveness - despite Alex.

“He’s…” The first bite of food relaxes you a bit, and you pour a little ginger beer into your rum glasses to make a most basic cocktail that will be absolutely delicious with your dinner. “Unfairly pretty. Like Burt Reynolds but sexier. Which I didn’t think was even possible.”

“Burt Reynolds?” She tilts her head and then grins. “Bandit?” She’s seen that movie with you, having found it here dubbed in Spanish and she had really liked it. He was sexy and if your Javier is as sexy as him, then this guy is extremely fuckable.

“Which doesn’t really mean anything. It’s just a fact.” Although you had caught a glimpse of him tugging his shirt over his head on the way out of his room the other day and had to pause to collect yourself.

“I take it you haven’t fucked him?” She asks, lifting a brow.

“No.” That makes you shake your head, willing away the daydreams — and regular dreams — you’ve been starting to have about him. “No. It’s not like that.”

“Wait a minute…” She frowns and stares at her food for a moment before her expression turns contemplative. “Isn’t this the guy you said was responsible for Helena?”

“Admittedly, I jumped to conclusions on that one.” While being protective of your friend is not something you believe at all you ought to apologize for, you most certainly have apologized for thinking that Javier forced her into that situation. You were entirely in the wrong. “I didn’t do my due diligence. It turns out Helena insisted on going into the situation, and Javi had given her advice and direction to navigate it safely. Then…when she got hurt anyway…he got her out as fast as he could and made sure she got to the hospital.”

“Okay, I don’t want to beat his face in now.” She had only heard snippets of the situation and had never really met Helena except in passing. “So he’s a good guy?”

"He's..." A mouthful of curry has you feeling another measure of relaxation, and you shrug one shoulder. "Grumpy. And cranky. And cocky." And despite every less than complimentary word coming out of your mouth, there is an upward curve to one corner of your lips and a barely perceptible softness in your voice. "Yeah. He's a good guy."

“So he’s the exact type of man that you said you despise.” She laughs and takes a bite of her food. “I bet you hate living with him.”

"We're barely ever home at the same time." At least that much is true, and you bury yourself into focusing on your food for a moment. You barely escaped her noticing that you do not, in fact, hate Javier at all. In fact...it's turning into the opposite. "When we are it's fine. But we both work weird hours."

“Well, maybe being roommates with someone who works off hours and keeps to himself is just what you need.” She hums. “Besides, if you trust him, it is a good thing. The neighborhood is far rougher than it used to be.”

"Javi lives near the American embassy," you reveal, knowing that it says a whole lot about his apartment just from the neighborhood that he is in. No part of the city is universally safe, but his spacious, beautiful apartment is definitely in a safer neighborhood.

“Oh God.” Her eyes widen in surprise and she nods, reaching for her drink. “No wonder you leapt at the chance to live there. I would too.”

"And, believe it or not?" This time you go past a small, secret smile and right up to laughing as you fork up another bite of food. "Chi-Chi likes him."

“No fucking way!” She hisses, howling with laughter when you nod. “That dog doesn’t like anyone who doesn’t have a pussy.”

"Just one." You chuckle right along with her. "Just Javier. That's it."

“Fuck.” She marvels at that and picks up her drink to take a sip. “So….” She prompts. “What made you stay with this man?”

"I'm not with him," you clarify, even though Inez already knows that. It just feels like you need to repeat it, although it might be more for yourself than for her. "There was nowhere else. I mean...I had been looking for almost two months. Ultimately the only place I could find that I could afford, was safe, and was okay with Chi-Chi...was the place I was already."

"Then is sounds like it's the perfect place for you." She says wisely. "You will be fine. It sounds like you don't spend much time with him."

“No. I guess not.” And for reasons you are absolutely not prepared to deal with, that deflates you. To the point where you’re now slouching over completely in your seat as you have your dinner. “How is it for you here?” You ask, deflecting the conversation so you don’t think too hard about how you’re starting to actually enjoy the time you spend with your roommate. Your soulmate.

She notices the way you seem to curl in on yourself, but she doesn't press. Instead, she shrugs. "It's alright." She wishes that the raid hadn't ruined the perfect work/life balance for her. "The little bar I'm working in doesn't pay nearly as well as the club, but I'm making it work."

“There’s a place up by me that is looking for more help.” It’s not a lot, but at least it’s something you can offer her. “It’s a more upscale restaurant. I’m not sure what the pay would be like but the tips would be good.”

That could possibly work. She nods. “Yeah, give me their information before you go home tonight.” She asks. “I would like to stop by there.”

“Of course.” It’s a fancy place two blocks down from Javier’s apartment where you’ve seen very well dressed couples go in and out on your walks, and heard it mentioned around the embassy as a place for meetings in the afternoons. It would be safer than any bar she’s working in, in this neighborhood, and definitely better money. “It’s been mentioned around the embassy a bit. So if you end up there make sure you spit in Alex’s drink for me if he ever turns up.”

“Did the bastard cheat?” She would spit in his drink just for shits and giggles but if he cheated on you, she would make him literally shit himself.

“Not that I know of.” Although now that she mentions it, you wouldn’t be surprised. “Turns out he was using me for my living room windows. Trying to stake out the building.”

“Shit.” She hisses. “That fucking bastard.”

"It's my own fault," you shrug. As suspected, the well-made and well-spiced dinner that your friend ordered is softening the harsh blow of the conversation. "I came on to him, remember? That's what I get, I guess. I was feeling good that night."

“Nope.” She shakes her head, frowning fiercely. “You aren’t going to do that. You don’t blame yourself for him being a scumbag.”

"It's done," you tell her, shaking your head again and letting the thought continue on without even pausing to consider what you're saying. "Javi kicked his ass anyway. It's over."

“Wait a minute—” she points her fork at you. “Your roommate kicked Alex’s ass?” She lifts her brows up into her hair they are so high. “Why?”

"Uhhh..." Shit. Shit. Shit. Well, there's no way out of this now. "Apparently Javier overheard Alex talking shit in the embassy men's room and took exception to him insulting me."

“Wow.” She looks suitably impressed. “He is a good guy.” She huffs. “Bring him around one night and I’ll buy him a round.”

"He is." That isn't something you're doing to deny. Especially not after everything he's done for you. "He's like a grumbly old neighborhood dog. The first impression might not always be perfect, but you warm up to him pretty quickly."

“And you would like to warm up to him in bed?” She’s grinning as she asks that question and watching you closely.

"Oh, shut up," you huff, groaning in response.

Cackling in delight when you duck your head in embarrassment, she knows she’s hit the nail on the head. “Ohhhh so you have a big crush.”

"God, it's so much more complicated than that." Another groan comes and you wipe one hand down your face. Rum. You definitely need more rum.

That she doesn’t understand, but she doesn’t push you. “It will work out.” She promises you softly, reaching over and touching your arm sympathetically.

"I honestly don't know." Setting down the rum bottle again, you look up at Inez and sigh. "If I tell you something, will you promise not to freak out?"

“Sure, you know you can tell me anything.” She promises, wondering if you’ve somehow done a background check on him or stalked his ex’s to find out his type.

"The thing is..." You have to give yourself a moment to breathe, and set down your plate on the coffee table to hold your drink in both hands like it's somehow centering you and not just an anchor for all the chaos you've been feeling lately. "We found out that..." Out with it. Just say it. Say it out loud, it's not that scary. It's just a fact and nothing more. "Javier and I are...we're soulmates..."

Inez freezes, shocked and her immediate instinct is to squeal in happiness for you, but she senses that’s not the right move. “And…how do you feel about that?” She breathes out softly.

"Real answer, or kneejerk answer?" You ask, even though you know immediately what she'll say.

“Of course I want to know how you really feel.” She rolls her eyes and smiles at you. “Whatever it is.”

"I feel really fucking confused." It's the truth that you can't even say out loud to the girls, knowing how Freckles and Helena and Vanessa absolutely adore Javier. You need that impartial third party. The person who only knows you and how you're reacting and how unusual this conflict is for you. Someone who doesn't know Javier from a hole in the wall and only cares about your side of the story.

"Because on paper he's...he's kind of perfect. Handsome, charming, smart, totally dry sense of humor. We even like most of the same movies and a lot of the same food. But in reality? Something just isn't clicking, and I don't know what or why."

“Too different?” Inez asks, certain that it has to be something small that you might feel is insurmountable. Like a mountain out of a mole hill situation.

"We're so similar." The opposite of that problem, in fact, which you had always heard tauted as one of the benefits of soulmate relationships. "We' both stubborn and headstrong and...if I'm being completely honest? The biggest difference is that he could have literally anyone he wanted. Despite what the girls say it seems like an insult from the universe that he got stuck with me."

“Does he think it’s an insult?” That title for good guy is hanging by a precarious thread if he feels slighted that his soulmate isn’t some rail thin model. You aren’t as fat as you think you are, or imagine how you look to others. Your self-image is negative and you will always see the worst in yourself even if you champion for others.

This is the sort of challenge from your most honest and most outspoken friend that you don't like very much, because it forces you to admit that your perspective of the situation is skewed. "He says, and the girls say...that he prefers...a fuller figure. But I've never seen him go near anyone my size before. I mean...we've slept with some of the same women. And I adore those girls but they are half my size."

“He pays them?” She asks. “Same as you do?” You nod and she tilts her head. “How many ‘fuller figured’ girls do the sicarios visit?” She even uses air quotes for the annoyed tone that is tacked onto your description of your body type.

"None that I know of," you reason without hesitation. "Because it's not the most common standard of beauty."

“So they would not have the information he was looking for.” She points out. “And it’s not like he can go around fucking everyone and letting his guard down around them.”

"I don't know that there's more than one person in Colombia he's ever let his guard down around." As far as you know, the answer is one single person. Only one. "Just Helena. And she's...as best as I can tell, she's completely in love with him."

“She has to know that you are soulmates.” Her eyes widen again, this time sympathetically for the other woman. “But what does he feel for her?”

"The girls are the ones who told me." The fact that they knew for so long and said nothing is still a sticking point for you, but you understand now why they kept it to themselves. If you're this conflicted now there's no way it would have been any better then. "And, I mean, they're...they're friends. It's unrequited, if that's what you're asking. And she knows that. Which sucks for her, honestly. It sucks to have feelings for someone who doesn't return them."

“So he doesn’t love her, he’s defended you against your asshole ex, he likes bigger girls, but you think it’s unfair that you are his soulmate?” She ticks off the list rationally.

"Oh come on, don't do that." Boiling it down to bullet point facts has you sinking down in your seat again and taking a long sip of your drink. "The number of times a day I think about that man has skyrocketed every single week. It's basically exponential at this point. And if I let myself think about him freely it's just..." You groan, knocking back the end of your second drink and digging the heels of your hands into your eyelids like you're trying to banish a mental image and can't quite get to your mind's eye. "I'm going to end up with feelings for him and that won't end well."

“And that scares you.” Inez had heard your stance on soulmates more than once and she understands why now what caused you to be so wary of the soulmate connection. It’s as if you were sabotaging yourself.

With another sigh, you swallow back the emotion threatening to cut through your voice. The truth of it. The honesty. "Absolutely fucking terrifies me to my core."

“You poor thing.” She sighs and shakes her head. “You just keep your head down and focus on your stories for now.” She advises. “Your moment of clarity will come.”

"You're lucky," you decide, letting out another shaky breath. "I'd give anything to go back to not having any clue who my soulmate was."

“No, you wouldn’t.” She promises, smiling sadly as she looks down at the small, crescent shaped scar on her forearm. “It’s just as terrifying to think that you might never meet them. Or that they could die before you do and then you will be left with the aching sense of loss for someone you’ve never even met. No where to go to mourn, you don’t even know their name.” She shakes her head. “I’m happy for you. Even if you are never more than roommates.”

"Fine." Annoyingly, she's right. Inez knows you better than you know yourself more often than not, and right now there is an eerie sense of how correct she really is that settles over you. Would you be happier never knowing the rancher's son from the borderlands of Texas? No. You wouldn't. You would still be secretly dreaming of whoever it was out there that shared your marks and half of your soul. But knowing and being too scared to reach for him is a different kind of torture. "Then I wish I wasn't so scarred by my past and my self-image and that I could actually have some kind of hope without it being weighed down by fear."

She sighs softly, aware that no amount of arguing or pep talks will convince you that you deserve this chance. “Maybe that will come in time.”

"Maybe." And then again? Maybe not. Right now you feel too far out in the ocean for even that anchor on your ankle to do any good.

Hope. An ironic motto from your home, when you feel like there is absolutely none at all.

******

Water. Elisa slips out of the bed and reaches for the shirt that is heaped on the floor. Slipping into it and only buttoning one of the buttons as she creeps out of the room. Javi is asleep, curled around a pillow after he had let go of her and she smirks slightly at the ache between her thighs. He’s obviously been pent up and it had been animalistic and needy. Just what she craved right now with her future so uncertain.

The front door of the apartment opens quietly. You had gotten a little too tipsy at Inez's place and stayed until you were sober enough to drive home safely. Now you creep in at the late hour just in case Javier has fallen asleep on the couch like he sometimes does. The man gets little enough sleep as it is, he doesn't need you waking him up.

It isn't the sleep form of your roommate guarded dutifully by an enormous but loving dog that greets you, though. It's a very surprised woman fully naked except for the shirt that is barely holding on to her trim frame.

Javier's shirt.

Chi-Chi's low growl pointed in her direction could not be a better echo for the breaking of your heart in this moment.

“Oh.” Elisa has assumed that Javi’s roommate had come home sometime during the hours that he had spent making her see stars. They hadn’t been exactly quietly and she had thought she just must not have heard the door. It was why she was trying to be so quiet when she came to get water. “I’m sorry, I thought—” she shakes her head, knowing that it doesn’t matter what she thinks. “Elisa.” She introduces herself and quickly sets down the glass to start buttoning up the shirt more. You have to be used to this if Javier is your roommate.

“I—” Panic rises in your throat, strangling whatever other words you were about to say. After spending the entire night pouring your heart out to Inez and coming around to the realization that you really are starting to feel things for Javier…you come home to this.

“Excuse me.” Fleeing past her to the room that you have shared with Chi-Chi every day since the raid, you pull the door shut behind you and turn the lock. Barely getting yourself inside before the tears start to fall.

Elisa stares after you for a moment, surprised by the unhappy heartbreak that she had seen on your face before you rushed off. It’s obvious that you have some sort of feelings for your roommate and she wonders if he knows that. She refills the glass, not wanting to run into you again, and makes her way back to the bedroom she is sharing with Javi.

******

When morning comes you stay glued to your bed. The melancholy and self-berating disappointment is still too strong to face the day, and you had planned to do some more recon tonight rather than this morning anyway. The smell of coffee is even more taunting, as you are more than certain that that woman is out there drinking it with him instead of you.

He doesn’t owe you anything. You’re not together and you never pretended to be. But still you’re so jealous that it’s nearly dissolving you into a depressive episode.

When Elisa has come back into the bedroom, Javi had woken up again. He had briefly woken up when she slipped out of the bed, but he had sat up when she had closed the door again. Only to not sleep the rest of the night when she had told him that he had met you.

Now waiting for you to come out into the kitchen so he can explain. His stomach clenching with guilt and annoyance at that guilt.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You mumble at Chi-Chi. The dog will need to be walked soon but you’re probably a bad person for wanting to put it off as long as possible. Just to prevent having to go out there and face the day.

Javi checks his watch as he blows out a sigh. Soon he’s going to have to leave and he really doesn’t want to leave Elisa here without talking to you. He twitches slightly and shakes out his arms as he walks down the hall to your door and taps on it gently.

The sound cuts through the thick silence of your room too sharply, making you frown but you ignore it. If it’s that woman you don’t want to face her, and if it’s him? Well…that might be worse.

He doesn’t hear you and he frowns as he taps on the door again, saying your name. He needs to talk to you.

“Fuuuuck…” The soft groan is more for yourself than anything else, and after about six seconds of debate you drag yourself out of bed and wrap an oversized sweater around yourself to cover up the thin tank top and shorts you usually sleep in. Six more seconds of steeling yourself are necessary before you pull open the door just enough to see him standing there looking carved from marble levels of gorgeous. “Morning,” you manage to mumble. It is certainly not a good one so you won’t claim it to be.

You must be hung over. The look on your face and the way you seem to wince when you see him. He should have brought you a cup of coffee. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No.” But you still avoid the bright light from the living room behind him or having to look him in the face by casting your eyes down at the floor. “Going to work?” You guess.

“Yeah—” he pauses and feels awkward. “Look, there’s a witness in my room.” Javi blows out, keeping his voice low. “I know you might want to interview her, but I need you to hold any story, okay?” He asks, hoping you will do him this favor. “Can you keep an eye on her for me?”

“Babysit your new girlfriend.” It comes out of your mouth bitingly, much more harshly than you meant it to sound but honest nonetheless. The fact that he would even think to ask you to do that is as heartbreaking as it is cruel. “Sure. Fine. Got it. Although I can promise you I won’t be interviewing her. Anything else?”

His eyes widen and he chokes out your name, the guilt cascading over him again. “She can tie M-19 to Escobar.” He hisses quietly, shuffling closer to you. “They attacked the Palace of Justice yesterday.”

“I genuinely don’t care.” Your own guilt is what pushes that sentence out of your mouth, and you take a step back from him to avoid being too close — which Chi-Chi takes as an invitation as she slips off of your bed and out into the hall. Professional you cares very much that this woman has such important information. But professional you is not in charge right now. “If she needs to be guarded, then don’t work late tonight, okay? I have a lead I’m following after dark.”

“You don’t need to be out too late.” The caution comes out automatically and he frowns when you back up from him. You’re soft and smell like sleep and whatever perfume you had worn, making his cock twitch in his pants as he realizes you have little under that sweater.

“Just gives you more time to fuck your informant,” you snap back, irritated that he would feel so entitled as to tell you how to do your job. “Anything else?” Tacking sir onto the end of it is just on the tip of your tongue, but for all you know he likes that. So you don’t.

He swallows harshly at the venom in your voice. “No.” He steps back and feels the sharp sting of rejection that doesn’t sit well. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.” He offers before he turns around.

His only answer is the slam of your bedroom door. It won’t open again while he’s still home. Once he’s left you’ll take the dog for a walk and do your best to avoid the woman he’s left behind in your shared space while simultaneously not speaking to her at all if you can possibly help it.

Javi almost wakes Elisa up to tell her to just stay in his room, but he doesn’t. Pausing in the hallway for a second and wondering why the hell you are so angry. You had agreed that there wasn’t going to be anything happening between the two of you, why are you acting like he’s cheating on you?

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

BFoW: @haileymorelikestupid @theorganasolo @missladym1981 @alexiamargot06 @southernbe

[val-cansalute]

summary: You’ve been in Jackson for three months; you’ve been stuck in a perpetual cycle of guilt and ravenous grief, trying desperately to recover from what went down between you and your brother before you left home and came here. Needless to say, you’re fitting in like a lego block in an 1000 piece puzzle, and you realise you’re better off going back to the old house, where you can succumb to the thoughts that plague you. Maria tries to help here and there, shoving you into patrol with people she prays you’ll get along with, namely Ellie Williams. Rather than that, you expectedly remain strong in your stance, both of you as closed off as each other. You come to appreciate the mutual understanding you’ve reached, giving each other space, only ever making slightly critical remarks, to the point where you think you see cracks start to form in your iron shell. But iron is iron, after all.

ch. 1 -

You’re not getting better, definitely worse. Patrol is the only force beckoning you to leave your den of misery, patrol with Ellie. Not much luck there either, you return with an injured ankle and an Ellie who is slightly less awkward and icy, similar to you. Though, when you’re alone with your thoughts again, you are utterly helpless.

ch. 2 -

Progress is dwindling, regress is massive; you’ve been inside for a fucking long time, with your only motivation for getting outside off the table. The numbness is overwhelming, so the knocking goes unanswered as you merge with your mattress. You told yourself you’d leave Jackson once you can walk again. Then, Ellie breaks the door down, with a very important food delivery. She profusely apologises, but the blizzard raging outside captures your focus. She can’t get home now. Sleepover?

ch. 3 -

This chapter contains smut.

The tension is high after last night’s events. Ellie’s on her way soon after, and the consequences of her busting through your door fully set in when the woman from the infirmary manages to get inside to check if your ankle is healing well. Good news: it is. So, you can set off soon. Ellie returns, to your surprise, and she comes bearing gifts. You learn something new everyday, e.g. weed makes you and Ellie horny.

ch. 4 -

Ellie’s departure was a gentle slaughter of your heart, leaving you dazed and empty. It’s time to go. One last meeting with the people of Jackson at the party Ellie left you to help with, and you’re off, leaving nothing but a note and a confused Ellie to read it behind.

ch. 5 -

She’s searching for you, she’s desperate, and hungry, and exhausted, but she’s been worse. There’s no way she won’t find you.

ch. 6 -

This chapter contains smut.

Recovery is a slow process, but Ellie is someone you’ve historically found comfort in. Each day, she expands the bounds of that comfort, and each day, you’re sure you want to live to see another.

playlist:

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter One - Damn Mailbox

W/C: 5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Relocating to the small town of Knife’s Edge in hopes of leaving your old life behind and starting brand new solves all of your problems, right? Wrong. It only creates more and one of them may live right next door. Side effects may include blaring music at 3AM, a scowling neighbor, and one too many shots of tequila on several occasions. (That The Bourbon will not be comping.)

A/N: I'm super excited to start this lil series, I've had this idea for a little while and I can never resist writing total opposites, it's just so fun to explore their dynamic when they want to reject each other so bad. Also a lot of this fic is inspired by Smoke Signals by Phoebe Bridgers (hence the name). As always I would love your feedback and any comments y’all have 🙂 OH and finally...the hugest largest biggest thank you to @uglypastels for beta reading and proof reading and all that good stuff, it was SO appreciated and really helped smooth things out ILY Z YOU'RE SO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO 💜

Masterlist

Next

Morning dew was like an old friend, someone you hadn’t paid attention to since childhood but felt so familiar with, so…safe.  Maybe it was a little too ridiculous to find security in a few dew drops but arriving in a new town with a population of less than five hundred would have that effect.  Twists and turns of windy roads unknown, trees larger than any house, and barely any infrastructure would all frazzle anyone not accustomed to its elements.  Normally you wouldn’t get car sick but these roads were a beast you’d never encountered before in your life, stomach threatening to send back your lunch of tuna on white bread and a bag of Doritos.  You refused to let bile even trace your tongue so with just enough self control, you swallowed any sickness down and pushed forward.  Now you were hunched over in the driver’s seat, the door open as you sucked in the fresh mountain air, perfect lengthy blades of grass grazing the bottom of the door.  Just before you, up the driveway made up of damp dirt, was home.  A home you were a stranger to at the moment but hoped to at least become acquaintances with.  Lower expectations created less disappointment.  If you dive in head first, you can only guarantee yourself vulnerability and pain, slow and steady was the only pace.

It’s not permanent; you are just figuring things out.

It’s what you kept preaching to yourself during the altitude change, where flatter land transformed into large mountains, the tallest peaks coated in white.  Where your ears popped and your brain felt pressure.  And then shortly after, you were submerged deep into the forests, far from home, where you knew there was no going back for quite some time.  It was a trial run although it didn’t feel that way when the moving truck packed with your life pulled up just minutes after you, delivering every piece of your life to some cabin in a secluded town that was nearly invisible on any map.  Temporary was starting to feel foreign when everything felt more set in stone.

You’d think a town called ‘Knife’s Edge’ would steer you away and maybe that was the intent when it was first named; to ward off newcomers who had no business being out in the woods.  But it only intrigued you.  From what you could find out in a few tourism magazines, Knife’s Edge was not somewhere you went for a getaway, not according to the locals who were a tight knit community where everyone knew everyone.  The economy relied on the small businesses down in The Village, on Main Street which according to your calculations was about five miles down the road and around the lake then up.  That was the extent of knowledge you’d had on your new home and yes, maybe you should have gathered more information before daring to even place a down payment on some random cabin in the woods but when a new start calls, you either answer the phone or stare at it until nothing happens.  The cabin was either yours if you paid the down payment or it would’ve been torn down and sold to the neighbor for more land which would’ve sent you on your way again, on a wild goose chase for a new place that you could fit into.  Not that you were too sure that you’d even fit in here.  But it seemed too obvious that this was where you were meant to be when the realtor advised that it was yours at a low down payment, a steal.  So you’d try to make it work.

The moving truck’s door startled you, slamming against the top as two men got to work, unloading all your belongings.  You figured this was your cue to exit your beat-up sedan to unlock the front door–wide-paneled and made of a beautiful dark oak.  The crunch of pebbles and dirt alerted the movers to your presence where you let them know you were going to open up so they could begin their tedious process, one of them grumbling something incoherent in response.  As you approached even closer, there were knicks and dents decorating the surface of the door but it seemed to add to the essence.  The wooden steps creaked underneath your weight and upon glancing around the porch, you found two well built rocking chairs that the previous owner must have left behind.  Other than that, there were pine needles and other debris from the surrounding nature caked in the corners, some scattered along the rest of the floor that would need to be swept up but it wasn’t an urgent task in comparison to actually setting up your bed and other necessities.

The lock was stubborn as you twisted the key but with one more persistent shove and turn, it clicked and you were able to push your way in, the hinges painfully squeaking as you made a mental note to pick up some WD40.  The air inside was stale, smelling of dust and maybe a half hearted spritz of air freshener.  Or maybe it was drenched in air freshener but it did little to nothing to cover up the smell of an old abandoned cabin; you weren’t sure.  It was a modest size, the kitchen off to the right, tucked into the corner with a small island in the center.  The living room was the first room you walked into from the front, the floorplan more open than you’d expected.  A little to the left was a narrow hallway with shutter doors lining both sides, you assumed one side had to be the laundry.  The door at the end had to be the bedroom and the door just before you embark into the hall had to be the bathroom but you had no time to explore right now.

Morning light trickled in through the kitchen window just above the stove, creating a beautiful hue against the wood paneling of the walls which you only noticed as you came back in, setting a box that was labeled ‘kitchen’ on the counter before rushing back out to retrieve more of your belongings.  It was too early to be doing such strenuous work but that's what you get for securing a slot with the moving company first thing in the morning.  In hindsight, you didn’t realize you were signing yourself up to meet said moving truck at 6:00 AM but in your defense, you’d never done this before. 

By 7:00 AM the truck was fully unloaded and on its way out and with it went the grumpy movers, more than likely unsatisfied with the fact that they’d have to trek back down the mountain.  You graciously offered them an extra twenty bucks which they gladly took but still appeared crabby nonetheless.  Now for the part you had been dreading the most: unpacking each box and putting everything in its respective place.  But first, you wanted to take it all in.  You were right; the laundry was on the left side of the hall behind the shutter door and on the other side was a closet.  The bedroom was settled right where you had guessed, at the end of the hall and rather than being empty, it now held your bed and mattress, sheets still yet to be found among the boxes labeled ‘bedroom’ in thick sharpie.  The wallpaper was something you could do without but maybe you’d find time to peel it off later and replace it with something more to your taste.  Currently the bedroom walls were lined with floral designs and pale blue stripes and if you could be honest, the design was a bit too busy for your liking.  But it was a roof over your head for a good price so complaining was out of the equation.

At the opposite end of the hall, just off the living room was the bathroom, sporting a less off putting wallpaper of faded yellow and white vertical stripes.  You first ensured your hygiene essentials were in place, toothbrush and toothpaste in a glass on the sink, towels on the rack, and soaps set up in the shower including shampoo, conditioner, and bar of Dove.  Having these accessible was a priority, cleanliness being one of the most important factors of your daily routine.  

Clothes were next and you’d forgotten a box in your trunk of your most worn items of clothing that you could pick through until you were fully settled.  Lazily carrying yourself back to the driveway where your maroon sedan sat on top of the copper-toned dirt, you do a double take when you realize your mailbox was taken out, wood splintering out of the ground as the poor box lays among the grass at the edge of the street.  From what you could remember, it was fully intact when you first drove up so you’re forced to conclude that the movers you’d tipped generously must have run it over and not given it a second thought.

The half of the mailbox that rested on the ground was a lot heavier than it looked and you would’ve thought it was made of cement just by the weight.  You felt pathetic dragging it up the driveway, creating a prominent line in the dirt along the way.  A brief break in getting the damn thing up to your porch has you about half way up the driveway, glancing around at your surroundings, only to finally take into account that you had a neighbor relatively close by, a cabin similar to yours only a few hundred yards away except it was a darker wood and a red pickup sat idle in front of it.

You braced yourself, catching your breath to continue hauling the mailbox back until you can figure out how to repair it when your eyes catch on figure, a man making his way down the steps of the cabin you’d just been analyzing.  And you’re quick to shy away until you realize he’d already been looking at you, a cocky grin on his face as he slowly, almost tauntingly stepped off his porch.  The way he walked closer reminded you of a lion declaring its territory, especially with the mane of curls he had, shaggy and brunette.  He wasn’t close enough to allow you to examine any further; however, you caught the click of his tongue before he spoke.

“Gonna get splinters draggin’ wood around like that.”

It’s all he says, a toothpick between his teeth before he turns on his heel, combat boot digging into the soil and it’s only then that you realize he wasn’t offering assistance, he was simply picking up the hose connected to his spigot to rinse off his windshield which now that he’d drawn attention to it, was filthy with mud and leaves.  He wore a red and black flannel which reminded you of a lumberjack but this man just didn’t fit that description based on your short interaction with him.  Or rather his interaction with you.  Your first indication was that he had no facial hair; he was clean-shaven.  And his tight jeans that had black rips at the knees didn’t seem very suitable for a job that required a larger range of motion.

Without any further acknowledgement of your existence, he hopped in his truck and sped off around the bend without a care in the world.  He was a resident douchebag and you’d never even spoken a word to him.  You quickly realized you were still stood in the middle of the driveway with half a mailbox, grunting in protest as you lugged it the rest of the way up to the porch, leaning it against the railing for future contemplation on how to repair it or if you’d have to fork up money for a brand new one.  That was a problem for future you and though future you would be pissed at past you for putting the responsibility on her, you had other things to sort out such as unpacking the rest of the kitchen so you’d be able to actually use it to feed yourself.  And then of course you’d have to make your way into town a ways down the road to actually get groceries because not a crumb of anything edible was packed.  Aside from a bag of Chex Mix that sat in the passenger seat of your car that you’d picked up at a gas station.

–

Going overboard was an understatement when it came to how much you’d actually gotten done.  By 12:00 PM you almost had each room unpacked and put away, moving boxes discarded next to the front door to be thrown out later.  Your plan was to finish off the kitchen and then go into town.  Instead you finished the kitchen and moved from room to room with more motivation than you’d ever experienced in your life.  Maybe it was the adrenaline of living alone, no one else could tell you what to do or where to put things.  It was all up to you and maybe you were a little drunk off that power.  Regardless, you were now worn out and that energy didn’t last very long.  At least you had a freshly made bed for when you came back, that’s what you would reward yourself with. 

If you go grocery shopping then you can come back and nap.

There were still various projects to be done, items to be organized, and objects without a home but for the most part, you could sleep peacefully with the work you’d done today.  The floors were yet to be cleaned and the fridge still needed a good scrub down but that could wait until tonight after you properly refueled.  

Humming to some song you’d heard on the radio earlier, you make your way out the door, patting your pockets for your keys and wallet, both of which you had before locking up and heading for the car.  You rolled your eyes passing the mutilated mailbox, settling into the driver’s seat with an ache in your back from the grueling labor in the early hours of the morning.  Shifting into drive and then rapidly back to park, you remember that these roads are foreign to you and that you could easily get lost and possibly become a bear’s lunch with your luck.  With a tug, the glove box opens and reveals the map you had set in it before embarking on our journey.  The map that was mailed to you of the town didn’t seem very complicated.  But if you happened to make a wrong turn it could land you amongst some rocky cliffs which you thought better to stay away from.  So you carefully examined the route to town, what the people here seemed to call The Village Square.  You took the liberty of drawing your house on the map, a cute little doodle in blue gel pen and then proceeding to draw the rest of the route in the same blue so you’d always have it.

This was it.  A fresh start where no one knew your name.  This would be good for you.  At least that's what you kept trying to convince yourself.  

Goodbye someone else’s daughter and hello new self-made woman.

–

You weren’t lost.  You were just…exploring.

Okay, you were a little lost but the signs for The Village Square kept passing you by and yet you found yourself also passing the same exact pine trees–and you knew they were the same pine trees because every time you saw them you thought ‘hey that kinda looks like a dog’.  At some point it started to feel as if you were spawning in and out of some dimension until you finally turned into a lot directly behind one of the signs, sick of this game of hide and seek.  There were no signs for parking which is why you’d passed by so many times in the first place, and now it seemed like you were behind a restaurant of some kind.  This couldn’t be where everyone parked, right?  Anxiety was pooling in your stomach and before you could sike yourself out, you ultimately decided to park and walk from here.  You would only be a few minutes and hopefully you’d be able to muster up the courage to ask someone where to park from now on, even if it did make you seem like an idiot.

Leaves crunched under your sneakers, an obvious indication of the Fall season trickling one leaf at a time.  As if you were a wary animal, you cautiously walked around the building, finding that it was someplace called The Bourbon; the letters written out in neon red lights that weren’t yet illuminated, the open sign in the window dull signifying they were closed.  You let your eyes roam up and down the street, small businesses lined up all the way through and a few patrons, clearly with an agenda making their way along the sidewalks.  It was a cute place, nestled in a little valley.  Instead of plain old cement the sidewalks were cobblestone and overall it seemed to be a pedestrian oriented community with several cross walks and barely any traffic.  

From here you had no idea how to get to Marvin’s Grocery, which seemed to be one of the only produce stores around according to your map.  The others were a little more out of the way, your house conveniently only around five miles away from The Village Square.  The shops you passed as you attempted to gain a sense of direction were exquisite.  Mom-and-pop shops that either smelled of delicious baked goods or hunger-inducing aromas that filled your nostrils with savory goodness.  The smell would haunt you in the best way for days to come.  A candle shop piqued your interest, as well as a flower shop that bloomed so beautifully among the muted tones of the brick buildings around it.

Everything was so unlike what you were used to, back home things were more commercialized, built for quantity not quality.  Here it seemed to be the polar opposite which you could appreciate.  Corporations were the root of all evil and you had yet to see one single corporation among the several businesses you passed so far.  People seemed friendly but also confused by your presence, offering you a meaningful wave accompanied by a puzzled expression written on every face you encountered.  You were a stranger and it was becoming more apparent the deeper you found yourself in the square.  Some people whispered and you happened to snag onto a few words, mostly grasping ‘is she new?’.  In return, you graced them with a polite smile.  It wasn’t like you to initiate small talk or approach new friendships.  If they happened, they happened per the other party’s account, not yours, never one to try and stand out in the crowd only making this infinitely more uncomfortable for you, which was no one’s fault other than your own insecurity.

Eventually you were able to come face to face with the giant ‘Marvin’s Grocery’ sign which looked to be handpainted in big white letters outlined in black with a few cartoony carrots, a tomato, and a head of lettuce.  Wandering around for an extra ten minutes and refusing to ask for help certainly wasn’t ideal but it did familiarize you with the shops you would soon be buying from on the regular.  And it did give you a soft introduction to the small population of Knife’s Edge which despite the name, the people seemed lovely enough.

The store wasn’t the slightest bit crowded and it wasn’t very large either.  A mother and her two kids skimmed one of the aisles while an older man pondered over the produce, apples specifically.  Grabbing a cart, you begin gathering the items you had sorted out on a list in your head.  First bananas, grapes, and blueberries, you didn’t want to bother with too much produce as it went bad fast and you were only one person so those would do for now.  Then you moved on to pantry essentials, canned goods that you could stock up on and always have on hand.  Green beans, corn, peas, baked beans, even soups such as tomato, cream of mushroom, and the standard chicken noodle.

You’d built up a cart full in no time, and by then,  no one else was around so you noted that this time would be perfect to get your shopping done in the future so as to avoid as many people as possible.  The cashier was a woman, probably in her early sixties who seemed not all that intimidating which you were grateful for.  She smiles warmly and you appreciate the sentiment, grinning back at her as you place each item at the register. 

“You’re new.  But I bet you’ve already had an earful of that, haven’t you?”  She lightly teases.

You laugh softly, avoiding eye contact while still trying to remain well mannered, taking notice in small glances that the woman’s name tag reads Donnie in bold red letters as well as the ‘help wanted’ sign perched up against the window.  She seems friendly, a little rough around the edges though in the sense that she had several tattoos that disappeared into the rolled up sleeve of her blue crewneck sweater as well as a fire in her icy blue eyes.  You could already guess that she was quite the character.

“Don’t let them scare you off.”  Donnie carefully bags the eggs with a few more light items, her confidence radiating, as if she doesn’t even need to try, as if it just comes to her so naturally.  Something you could only wish for every once in a blue moon.  “We don’t get many newbies.  They’ll get it outta their system.”  Her voice is a tad scratchy but smooth otherwise, bringing a strange sense of comfort.

“Thank you.”  A mouse may as well have been louder than you but you tried and that’s what counts, right?  New people were not your thing but they would have to become your thing, moving to a place where no one knew you existed and all.  Or maybe you could fly under the radar?  It couldn’t hurt to become the mysterious outsider that spoke to no one although it wasn’t a very realistic ambition.

This was fucked.  You thought to yourself in the solitude of your brain.  Of course the second thoughts were coming now and not before you bought the damn property that tied you to this place.  Initially, the idea was a temporary situation far from home but the deeper you delved into this town, the more permanent it started to feel.  Not just anyone up and moved here and that was clear by the reaction you pulled from several onlookers.  And yet you moved here, bought that damn cabin with the money left to you from your father’s estate, and ultimately, left everything you knew in a manic state.  A mid life crisis in your early twenties.  

“Miss, your change.”  The woman broke through your thoughts and you must have shifted into autopilot, not even remembering handing her any money in the first place.

“S-sorry.”  You mutter, collecting the filthy coins in your palm, shoving them into the front pocket of your jeans which you knew would be a pain to dig out later but again, that was an issue for future you.  She hated your guts.

“No prob–”

It was abrupt, your exit but despite your rude departure, she called out “I’m Donnie!” and you never felt like a shittier person.  She was welcoming you to her home and you didn’t even have the decency to introduce yourself.  That’s how it looked at least, on the inside you were panicking and needed to isolate yourself immediately.  

You must have looked like a maniac carrying your groceries in a near sprint toward the direction of your car.  Everyone else seemed to move at such a mellow pace, not a single vein close to popping out of stress whereas you looked like you’d crumble under the slightest inconvenience.  Which you would if you didn’t get to the car fast enough.  A small misstep causing you to trip?  No chance, you wouldn’t show your face again for weeks.  Your groceries spilling all over the pavement because of said possible misstep?  You would consider moving all over again.

Thankfully the majority of the walk back to the little lot behind one of many businesses was blacked out, your heart practically pumping in your ear the whole time.  What you couldn’t black out from was the man-the same man from this morning smoking a cigarette as he stared at your car.  Fear drenched you; you couldn’t gauge his expression with his back to you but you could guess he wasn’t going to be smiling with the way he was lingering, shuffling his boots back and forth in contemplation.

Announcing yourself felt like the most daunting task in the world, humiliation melting into your skin like an uncomfortable burn.  Maybe some higher power heard your pathetic struggle because the crunch of your sneaker on a perfectly placed leaf called his attention to you, his head snapping in your direction instantly.

The urge to just run was strong but you maintained whatever cool was left within you, fingers waving at him weakly.

His expression was blank, unreadable.  He didn’t say a word as you slowly inched your way closer to the vehicle, only eyeing your every movement like a predator protecting his territory, much like he did that same morning.  The closer view of his face showcased his stoic yet soft features, eyes almost puppy dog-like but something glazed over them, a facade of some kind.  Something that overtook the puppy dog nature they were capable of and replaced them with a cruel glare.  The shape of his nose was endearing at least, rounded at the tip and tinted pink from the cold.

“You just park anywhere you want where you’re from?”  He asks, gesturing vaguely with a tip of his cigarette toward the car.  

Your shaky breath has him furrowing his brows at you, seemingly offended.  It’s not in your nature to offend people but you can’t seem to stop doing it, especially today whether you mean to or not.  But you definitely don’t think you mean to.

“N-no, ‘m sorry.”

“Sorry?”  He mocks, scoffing before inhaling a puff of smoke once more.

“I-I uh, I’m leaving.  It won’t happen again.”  You rush out, all the while forcing yourself not to cry.  “I just–I couldn’t find parking–I was driving around and—there was no–I couldn’t–”

“Don’t let it happen again.”  He warns, stern but easing up on his intense demeanor.

“Promise.”  You whisper, a tear betraying you and rolling down your cheek to which you quickly gather your grocery bags in one hand to swat away at your cheek.  It’s too late, he already saw.

No empathy is detected in his stare, not that you feel you deserve any.  It was just an observation.  “Now, get out of my lot.”  It’s a demand, a non-negotiable demand that if you were brave enough to argue, would probably have him towing your shitty little sedan.  

So you nod, blinking back the water works as best you could while tossing your groceries into the passenger seat, him watching the whole time.  With your seatbelt suddenly feeling like the most complicated thing in the world, you expect to look up and meet pure rage but instead your ears perk up at a few knocks on the window.  Rolling it down as fast as possible with the manual handle, the man stands towering over you, cigarette abandoned sometime in between you getting in the car and struggling to remember how a seatbelt works.  Did he have more choice words for you for illegally parking on what he deemed ‘his lot’?  You really didn’t want to stick around to find out but you had no choice.

“Left on Main.  Then right on Cherry.”  His dark eyes hinted at hues of warm honey but they were briskly dismissed by his cold attitude.

“What?”

“Next time.  So you don’t turn into my damn lot again.”  

You still didn’t know what he meant by ‘his lot’ and you didn’t have the backbone to ask.  You did however fully get the message that you were to never park here again and were now aware of which streets to search for to avoid it at all costs.  You’d memorize every detail of it if it meant you could steer clear of the apathetic man before you.  With a nervous nod, you were off, not once looking back just as he did that morning except he had more grit in his actions, you just came off as a scared church mouse.  You never even caught his name and you didn’t mind not knowing it at this rate seeing as he was all bite and bark for no good reason.

This place never felt so far from home.  Nowhere was home.  Your heart was in a sense homeless, lost and longing for the connections that these people had with each other that you couldn’t seem to tap into even if your life depended on it.  In all fairness, it had only been a few hours and you couldn’t gauge your success based on that but it was tugging on your brain like a parasite, eating away at your final optimistic thoughts.  

I don’t belong here.

I don’t fit in.

The drive ‘home’ was flooded with tears and muffled sobs into your now sticky sleeve, coated in snot and if anyone were to pass you along the way you would look psychotic with how your face scrunched up at every exhale, doing your best to keep yourself quiet despite being the only one in the car.  You were always doing your best.  Always to please others.  And it never worked.

~end~

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