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gojonanami · 1 year ago

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FIVE TIMES NANAMI WANTED TO PROPOSE BUT DIDN'T - NANAMI KENTO

✴︎ summary: nanami wanted to propose to you so many times - but it was never the right time, and then, there was no time left. ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, swearing, ANGST (major spoilers for jjk 120 (probably next week's episode, character death, exploration of grief, if you wish to avoid the major angst: stop reading after part 5), SMUT (fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), panty sniffing, semi public sex, nipple play, creampie, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms), pet names (love, sweetheart), happy ending (sort of?) ✴︎ wc: 10,121 (i have a problem) ✴︎ song: the archer - taylor swift (blame laney for this)

ONE.

The first time Kento Nanami wanted to propose to you shouldn’t count.

And it won’t because it was when he first met you — enrolled into Jujutsu Tech along with the other first years, he first laid his eyes on you at a welcome party that the soon to be menace to his sanity, Satoru Gojo, had organized. Well, he could thank Gojo for one thing it was introducing you to the room — because he may have had to find the words to ask you himself. And he didn’t know if that was possible with his tongue in knots.

But he managed to talk to you — mostly with Haibara leading the conversation. You were reserved, at first, but he saw the spark in your eyes whenever you spoke about something you were passionate about — reading was one, one thing you both shared a love for.

“Yeah hauling my books to Jujutsu Tech wasn’t an easy feat, I had to ask Geto-senpai to have some of his cursed spirits help me haul it up to my dorm,”

“By the way, you still owe me lunch for that,” Geto smirks as he slips past, and the flush that settles on your cheeks is one Nanami wanted to see — again and again.

“Aren’t the upperclassmen supposed to buy lunch?” You grumble, pouting as Gojo interjected himself, resting himself on your shoulder with his arm, making you jump.

“Not here, here the kouhais earn their keep,” he grins, tilting his glasses down, “can you?”

And Nanami opens his mouth to reply, irritation creeping over his senses, before you brush Gojo off, “I’ll buy you lunch, but next time, if that’s what it’s gonna cost me, I’m going to have you two haul my books by hand up those steps,” You stick out your tongue, before your arms curl around his and Haibara, “let’s have cake,” you smile at both of them, gaze lingering on Nanami, “and we can exchange book recommendations?”

That was the moment he wanted to propose — could see himself living in a home with you, filled with both of your books lining the walls of a personal library, but your living room as well. He could see himself falling asleep beside you as you read to him, your fingers carding through his hair.

But no, no, it was irrational, he chided himself, as he talked to you, his lips curled in a smile that had damned him from the moment he saw it. He just had met you — he had barely been ever moved by another person, much less fallen in love. And it shouldn’t happen this quickly — it only happened this quickly in books — not in real life.

But you — he watched you and Haibara chat and laugh — you were someone that might just be the thing of books.

~~~~

TWO.

The second time he wanted to propose, he didn’t care to remember.

And he barely did.

He remembers the facts of the mission. It was supposed to be simple — exorcise a grade 2 curse, simple enough for him and Haibara to handle by themselves. Not that they had a choice. Jujutsu Tech’s resources were already far too spread thin — Gojo himself being sent all over Japan and even overseas to handle things himself that no one should be able to. But their mission? It should have been simple — dangerous still, but simple.

But nothing was simple when it came to curses.

He remembers sensing the curse — the manifestation had frozen him and Haibara for a moment — their bodies taut with fear and adrenaline — but they couldn’t move. Even as the cursed spirit screeched before them, he couldn’t articulate what was happening — it was supposed to be a grade 2, it was supposed to be a grade 2, but no — this was a grade 1.

And then it struck — Kento barely had enough time to react, but he did, pushing Haibara out of the way when it did.

He didn’t remember much after that.

He remembered the squelch of Haibara’s flesh, the blood seeping through his clothes, the way his body crumpled on the ground, and he remembered the next moment was the first time he landed a black flash — stunning the curse enough for him to grab Haibara and escape.

But not enough to save him.

Haibara had made him promise if anything had ever happened to him — he would make sure his sister wasn’t recruited to Jujutsu Tech. And he had to make the call to his family — he couldn’t bear the thought of some higher up taking advantage of their grief to manipulate another into their clutches.

No, he couldn’t let that happen.

And now he sat in the morgue with his body, towel covering his eyes — Geto had come and went — and now he sat waiting for the body to be examined and taken away to be burned. Burned to ash with nothing left — that was the way all sorcerers bodies were disposed of. It was if they never existed in the first place - pawns in a never ending war that would have them piled like corpses on a sacrificial pyre.

What was the point?

Haibara had always told him — if there was something only he could do, he would do it. And for him it was jujutsu — but wasn’t there something else? Something else for him to do that didn’t let him up like this? A body on a metal slab waiting to be incinerated. What was the point?

Was there even a point? People lived and people died. He had lived and Haibara died, but he didn’t know why. Why or how do people live one day and disappear the next? He had seen death before but not of someone so close — someone so precious to him. And the chaos was too much for him. To be killed by another’s twisted feelings manifested into a monster — it was almost poetic if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.

“Nanami?” And he pulls the towel from his eyes, and sees you — your eyes glassy and red tinged — tear streaks you didn’t hide well left on your face, “Nanami—“ and you don’t know what to do with yourself — as you come to him, hesitating, “can I—“

But he’s the one pulling you into his arms, nearly into his lap as his fingers dig into the fabric of your jacket, “I’m sorry — I’m so sorry I wasn’t there—“ your voice breaks, and it’s enough to break him — he hadn’t really cried, not around another person, but tears well at your words, as your fingers card through his hair.

“You have nothing to be sorry for — I’m the one—“ and his voice breaks in turn, as the words stuck in his mind going round and round, until they were nearly had shattered his sanity and skull along with it, “I’m the one who couldn’t save him,”

And you pull back to look at him with tear stained cheeks, “that’s not your fault, Nanami—“

“How is it not?” His words are laced with more venom that he wishes them to be, a little more bite than he wished to chew, and the hurt in your eyes was enough to make him regret speaking altogether, “I’m so—“

“No, it’s not your fault, Kento,” and his eyes find yours, your lips twisted in a frown, and your gaze unwavering, “I know a part of you knows that — knows that…Haibara’s death is nothing but a function of this shitty system we’ve been funneled into. Nothing more. Nothing less. And you know,” your voice grows softer, “you know Haibara wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for this. You know what he’d say?” You almost chuckle, “he’d tell you not to sweat it. To keep going. That you got it, right?”

He gives a terse chuckle in return, shaking his head, as his head tilts into your chest again, “How do we—“

“I don’t know,” you murmur, you don’t need him to say more, “I don’t know how we do this without him, but we have to. We have to for him,” and your hand cups his face, tilting his chin up so he looks up at you, “together?”

And he wants to ask you then — ask you to marry him. He doesn’t know when he would get a chance. You were the only thing that made his life make sense — the only thing that made him feel okay, feel safe, for once. He was so tired of never feeling that way. And he had just lost the one other person who made him feel that way.

He knew you wouldn’t say yes. You couldn’t. You were both so young still, still reeling from Haibara, still stuck in this system that could kill either of you at any time. But still…wasn’t that all the more reason to do it?

But as you pulled him into another tight hug, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer in the Jujutsu world. He couldn’t — he couldn’t take another loss like this. He didn’t know if he could bear it. But as his tears wet your jacket, surrounded by you — your scent, your soft breath, your warm presence — he would try.

He would try for you. And his eyes slid to Haibara’s body covered by a sheet — and for him.

~~~

THREE.

“After graduation, I’m leaving,” it was a late night, a couple days before graduation that he told you. The soft pitter-patter of rain was the only thing heard from int the silence before he spoke. You laid on the foot of his bed, reading a book, while he sat cross legged at the head of it, his eyes fixed on you.

Your gaze lifts from your book, brow furrowed in confusion, “Leaving?”

“I can’t be a jujutsu sorcerer,” his words are as plain as always, “I can’t do it. I’m going to go to college and pursue some other line of study—“

And you sit up slowly, putting your book aside, and he expects protests, expects you to convince him otherwise, expects you to try and stop him, but all you ask is one question, “are you sure?”

It catches him by surprise — as you always seemed to. He could anticipate enemy attacks, analyze their next moves five steps ahead, plan three routes of escape, and even predict what garbage will come out of Satoru Gojo’s obscene mouth, but you — you always could surprise him.

“I am,” he finally answers softly, “this society is shit, you know that. And these past few years have shown me that the difference I make isn’t worth the toll it’s taking, especially when I’m not changing anything,”

“Kento, you do make a difference,” your fingers find his, intertwining with ease, such ease he can’t help but think that’s what it was meant for, “you do — even if you can’t see it, I just want you to know, you do. For the people you help, even if you don’t see them, for the other sorcerers you inspire, and for me,”

And he chuckles, “even you?” And you roll your eyes, pouting — the same pout that makes him want to lean over and kiss you until your lips are utterly ruined.

“Even me,” you toss a pillow at him, and he catches it with ease, and you scowl playfully, “y’know i’m gonna miss you, but I’m not gonna miss that,”

“What? My quick reflex—“ and you smack him with another pillow and giggle, the noise making his lips quirk into a smile even as you laughed at him, hands covering your lips.

“What was that, Mr. Ratio? Your quick—“ and he’s tossing a pillow right back smacking you in the face, making his lips curl in a rare grin (though not so rare when he was with you—“

And you pull the pillow off, your face grim, “Oh, it’s so on—“ you’re tossing a pillow, but it’s only a diversion as you lunge for him, assumedly to mess up his hair, but he’s caught you by the wrist, his other hand around your waist as he’s gotten you pinned to the bed.

Time stops.

He’s breathing heavily, and you are too — from the rise and fall of your chest, but he can hardly hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. Your lips part as you look up at him — you’re dressed in your sleep clothes, a thin tank top and shorts — and it would be so easy to lean down, let his palm slide under his shirt. He sees your eyes flicker down his body the same — climbing back up before pausing at his lips.

It wasn’t a good idea. He was leaving. You both were graduating. Who knows when he would see you again — yet, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Not when this is what he wanted for so long, when he wanted you for so long. But maybe he should — maybe it would be easier, he couldn’t ask you to leave Jujutsu Tech. Just as you couldn’t ask him to stay. He knew you would stay to honor Haibara’s memory, to carry on his legacy — the one thing sorcerers could do for their fallen comrades.

Sometimes the only thing.

And sometimes it was the only thing they couldn’t do.

“Kento—“ your voice pulls him from his reverie, as your fingers brush against his cheek, “are you going to hover over me forever, let me go, or…” and your teeth graze your lip, “are you going to kiss me?”

And he’s blinking, cheeks most assuredly flushing, as your fingers graze the back of his neck, and his mouth is dry, as he looks down on you.

But he doesn’t need to asked twice, as he leans even closer, delighting in how your breath catches, looming over him, “do you want me to kiss you?” And the telltale quirk of his lips makes you gape at him, drawing a laugh from him.

“I hate you,” you murmur, as his lips finally brush yours, swallowing those playfully bitter words with them — and your lips are even softer than he imagined, your fingers settling themselves on the back of his neck, brushing the hair that rested there.

And when he pulls away; his heart squeezes at the sight of your kiss ruined lips parted as you pant slightly, eyes fluttering open to look up at him as if to ask why did you stop? And he can’t help but smile.

“It’s too bad because I love you—“ the words slip from his mouth — but he doesn’t regret it. How can he? When he might not get another chance.

And he thinks his heart will stop at your silence again, the pitter-patter of raindrops ringing in his ears again, before your lips finally curl.

“You love me, huh?” You’re leaning up and kissing him, lips finding his again and again — and how is it that he’s already addicted? You taste like honey, and sunshine, and something headier — sending heat warmer than liquor throughout his body that only made him crave more of you, and you finally pull away, and you’re smiling, “good thing I love you too,”

And he can’t believe his ears, he can’t believe you love him too — all these years he thought it was one-sided, that he was deluding himself with all the times your fingers found his, your eyes met across a classroom with a smile, and the times he found himself falling asleep next to you all those nights neither of you wanted to be asleep, your arm curled around his.

But you did. You loved him. And he loved you.

And as your lips met again, he knew, he knew he still couldn’t ask you. Couldn’t ask you because he knew you maybe wouldn’t say no — and he couldn’t ask that of you. Not when it wasn’t what you wanted. Not when he knew you could do the good he couldn’t bring himself to do. And you would — because you were the best person he knows.

He loves you. And therefore he had to let you go.

But — as he lingered over you on his bed, his body hovering over his as he dragged his thumb over your red, puffy lips, before leaning down for another kiss —

He didn’t have to let you go this second.

~~~~

FOUR.

It’s years before he sees you again.

It wasn’t purposeful. Not exactly anyway.

It was just easier. Easier not to have to think of you still at the place he once was. Still fighting the same curses he would have been fighting with you. Still risking your life day in and day out. While he…he only had money to worry about. To think about. To obsess about.

Money. Money. Money. Money.

How was this somehow shittier than what the jujutsu world? He had considered going into a more humanitarian profession, but when his goal was to retire early, why waste time? If he wanted to help people…he glances at his phone — the one vice he allowed himself, a picture of you that you had sent him when you got promoted to Grade 1 saved as his screensaver — he could have stayed by your side.

No, he wanted to retire. Find himself a nice place to retire to — he hadn’t decided the exact location yet. Somewhere peaceful. With nothing but beaches and sky and sand and books for him to read, to reclaim his life page by page. But to get there — he had to slop through this shit work — making the rich richer.

The same in the jujutsu world, and the same here as well.

And it was one day after he had exorcised a curse from his favorite bakery’s worker, he had felt anything good — anything remotely good — in far too long. Your words rang in his ears — you make a difference.

Was he making a difference by lining the pockets of the rich? Maybe his sorcery wouldn’t change the world, move minds or hearts, pivot the course of history — but maybe he could have his own impact. And not feel like complete shit when he woke up every morning.

And he wouldn’t — he knew he wouldn’t — if he could just see you smile again. Even if he could just see you again. He pulls out his phone, staring at your picture. And maybe…maybe even more.

“Hello, Gojo? I’d like to return to Jujutsu Tech,” and he hears laughter on the other end, “why are you laughing?”

“Kento?” You drop the pen you’re holding, as he steps into your office. And your lips are parted in surprise, your eyes fixed on his, “what are you—“

“I’m coming back, to Jujutsu Tech, I’m going to be a sorcerer again,” and he knows what you’ll ask, he knows you’re going to ask why — you’re going to ask him if he’s sure. And he doesn’t know how to tell you except by saying it’s because of you.

But you don’t say anything, your chair screeches back as you get up, clattering backwards and suddenly as you’re running into his arms. Your face is buried in his chest, and he can feel the tears against his shirt, and his arms curl around you, fingers running through your hair, “I missed you so much,” you murmur, and then you look up at him, fingers tracing his cheeks, gingerly moving his glasses away, “you look tired,”

“I am, but I’m better now,” he’s murmuring — and how is it that you send him right back to where he started, right back to where you always send him. It doesn’t even take a touch — only a glance, a whiff, a second — “I missed you too,” he adds, “a lot,”

And you push him playfully, pouting up at him, “Could have fooled me. You barely ever called or texted me all these years. You talked more to Gojo than you did me,”

“That’s only because that flippant idiot won’t stop calling until I pick up,” he grumbles — Gojo was the last thing he wanted to talk about in his moment — his fingers caress your cheek, tracing the line of your cheekbone, “I wanted to talk to you — I did, I just, I knew if I talked to you, I might say something I’d regret,”

“And what would you regret saying to me?” You raise an eyebrow, and his eyes are sliding away from him.

Asking you to come see him, asking you to leave Jujutsu Tech for him, asking you to be with him — every question that he wanted to ask, but never could.

“It’s not important—” and your hand cups his cheek guiding his eyes back to yours, and he knew you weren’t going to let this go, “If I talked to you, I knew it would end one of three ways — one, I’d ask you to leave Jujutsu Tech; two, I’d come back to Jujutsu Tech; or three, you’d ask me one of these yourself — but I knew I couldn’t do that,”

And your brows knit together, “Why not?”

“Because it had to be our own decision — I couldn’t leave and you couldn’t leave, just because the other asked,” he murmurs, his gaze softening, “it wouldn’t be fair to either of us — or the other — to feel like the only reason we’re together was because of guilt or want for the other, not for ourselves,”

You consider his words for a moment, “I would have left if you asked me,”

“I know, and I would have come back if you had,”

“But we didn’t,” and your fingers cup his face, “you remember what I said to you that night that we kissed?”

And he swallows the lump in his throat, his heart rattling against his chest, “You said, you didn’t want to go further because it would only hurt more when we had to go our separate ways,” and your hand slides up his chest slowly, the other already resting against his neck, and his find their way to you — one hand holding your waist and the other cupping your cheek, “but we’re not separate anymore, are we?”

“I hope the wait was worth it,” you smile, as both close the gap, lips meeting again and again — and you taste the same, but even better somehow — and he’s only pulling you closer, lips curled in a smile so wide that he hadn’t felt in so long, so long.

“Always, when it's you,” he murmurs against your lips, before his lips begin to trail kisses down your jaw and then your neck, his teeth brushing against your pulse, pulling a gasp from your lips, “good girl,” And he feels your knees buckle against his and he’s walking you backwards into the edge of your desk, “is anyone left on campus?” and you’re shaking your head, your eyes flitting to the door, as he makes you sit on your desk, thighs parted for him to settle between.

“The door—”

“Locked,” he replies, drawing back only a moment to take in the image before him — your lips red and ruined, chest rising and falling as you look disheveled at best, sexed at worst, and your eyes — your eyes swirled with lust, half lidded and desperate for his touch— “didn’t want any interruptions,”

Just as he was.

His fingers draw up a strand of your hair and kisses it, and your lips part, “Kento, please—”

“Please, what, my love?” his voice is low and teasing, as his fingers peel back your jacket, pulling it off your shoulders, “you’re going to have to be more specific,” his lips find your neck, soft, wet kisses that has your body leaning into his, “I’m not a mind reader,”

“But you are a tease,” you pout, and he only smiles, leaning down to do the thing he always wanted to — he kisses the pout off your lips, moaning lightly when your lips part for his tongue, his hands dragging down your sides, as your fingers loosen his tie, “I think you will be doing overtime with me today, Nanami-Sensei,”

And he grunts, as your fingers free him of his tie, joining your jacket on the floor, “I’m not going to be a teacher, just a sorcerer,” his teeth graze right under your chin, nibbling, “so you’re the only sensei here — are you going to teach me what you’ve learned the last few years?”

And you toy with the top button of his blue button-up, “Oh, I’ll teach you, Kento,” and you’re starting to undo his buttons, as he busies himself undoing yours, “the question is whether you can handle it,”

“Beautiful,” he murmurs in reverence, and his fingers finally undo the buttons, sliding your shirt off your shoulders, eyes raking over your chest — sharp blue gaze lingering on the erect nipples poking through the fabric for your bra, “You’ve always been the one thing I can’t handle,” his mouth leans down, closing around one clothed nipple, while he teased the other with his fingers, and he delights in your gasp, the noise sending heat right down to his already aching cock, “but I’m willing to try, my love,”

“You still love me?” You murmur, as he shrugs off his own shirt, perfect abs teasing into a v-line, all this muscle hidden under his business attire — and you knew he still must work out, and he did. He did in case he ever needed to come back — come back for you.

“Who says I ever stopped?” His nose buried in the nape of your neck now, as his fingers teasingly snap the strap of your bra, “you smell so good, so perfect,” and his fingers undo your bra and it joins the pile of clothes growing on the floor, “there wasn’t a day I didn’t think about you — a night that i didn’t dream of you, that I didn’t want you,”

“Kento—“ you whimper, as he tugs at your skirt, a quick glance for your nod, and he slides it down your legs, bunching at your ankles until you kick it off. Your cheeks burn as he’s kissing your way down your body, his mouth teasing the other nipple he had neglected, trailing hot kisses down your stomach, until he reaches the fabric of your panties, “I need—“

“Been wanting to taste this for so long,” and he’s kneeling between your parted thighs, still calloused fingers parting your plush flesh, tongue flicking over his dry lips at the sight of the dark wet patch at the crotch of your underwear. And you look down at him, eyes glazed over with unadulterated lust that is almost enough to have him cumming in his pants, “so sweet,” he’s murmuring as he noses your clothes cunt, and you jerk, as he pulls the crotch aside, “wonder if you taste as sweet as you smell,”

“Kento—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping cunt, nose bumping against your clit, as your thighs curl around him, pulling him closer, closer — “fuck—“

“Such a filthy mouth,” he tuts, smiling against your cunt as his tongue teases your folds, “almost as filthy as you are down here,” and his finger begins to part your walls, making your thighs shake and quake, his lips close around your clit, sucking.

You’re a mess of moans and pants, hips grinding against his touch, as one hand tries to muffle your moans, the other is curled in his blonde locks, “taste even better than I imagined — just f’me, only for me,” You’re so close, as he parts your folds with another finger, sinking knuckle deep, as his fingers brush against that one spot that has you parting your lips in a silent moan, head thrown back — and the heat deep in your stomach is going to snap.

KNOCK KNOCK.

You both freeze, your cunt jerking around his fingers, as you bite your lip — maybe if you’re silent, they’ll go away— but Kento clicks his tongue, a smile on his glossy cum covered lips, mouthing, “Speak,” and you gape at him, chest still heaving, as you shake your head, before he’s curling his fingers just right.

Fucker.

You hear Gojo’s voice, calling your name, “You in there?”

You swallow thickly, meeting Kento’s gaze — he’s not backing down, “Yeah, sorry I’m in the middle of something — do you need something?”

“I was just wondering if you heard from a certain salaryman, or should I say, ex-salaryman?” the very one that was burying his face back in your still sensitive pussy, slurping and licking, despite Gojo being right outside.

You have to bite back your moans, swallowing them as you speak, “You mean Nana—ah—mi?” And you feel the very same sorcerer smirk against your abused cunt, a third finger finding its way inside you, “ha-haven’t heard from him, and what do mean ‘ex?’”

You do your best at acting, but it’s hard when his mouth closes around your clit, sucking hard, as your fingers curl in his hair, biting your lip so hard, as he fucks your pussy in earnest with his fingers — how can Gojo not hear the nasty squelch of your cunt?

“He left his job. He’s coming back to Jujutsu Tech,” and he takes a beat, “I’ll take my leave,” and he chuckles, “have fun you two, and Nanami?” You feel your face flush, “don’t be too rough with her — we need our best teacher available to teach tomorrow,”

You hear his laugh all the way down the hall, and you’re covering your face — those fucking six eyes — but Kento’s tugging your hands away, “Pay attention to the one who’s filling you, love,” and he’s burying his face in your cunt, fucking you even harder — hitting that spot over and over, until you cum, back arching, as he’s pulling his fingers out to lap up the slick dripping from you, “delicious,” he murmurs, kissing your still sensitive clit, before he’s looking up at you — all fucked out, your chest rising and falling with every pant, your lips kiss ruined red — “and so beautiful,”

His licks his lips clean of your cum, wiping the rest with the back of his hand, as he rises to your feet, “Kento, please,” you’re murmuring, his hands slide over your body, squeezing your hips, “I need you,”

“What do you need—“ and his words are cut off by your fingers reaching for his buckle, the clink of the metal as you undid it, along with the button, tugging his pants and boxers down.

He hisses as his too sensitive dick slaps his stomach, your lips parting, eyes in a trance, “So pretty, Kento,” your fingers traces one of his veins to his already leaking tip, “and so fucking big,” you murmur, teasing the bead of precum on his slit, making him groan, “can’t wait to have this inside me — been waiting ten years,”

And he’s sliding your hand away, pressing his hips flush to yours, as your legs wrap around his waist, “That long huh?” And his lips find yours again, letting you taste yourself, “and I thought I was the only one pining,”

“So you admit you were pining for me?” And he laughs, as you smile up at him — like all the times he had hoped you would — “I had a crush from almost the moment I met you,”

“You could have fooled me,” he presses kisses up and down your jaw, drawing a moan from both of you as he teases your puffy clit with his aching tip, “I thought you had a crush on Geto,” and you scoff.

“Geto? So you were jealous of him — that’s why you always had that sour look whenever I studied with him,” you grin even wider, “well you had nothing to worry about - I had a crush on very gloomy boy and no one else ever caught my eye,”

And he softly smiles, and it seems to ebb away the years — the trauma and the tiredness — and left only him, your Kento.

“Is that right?” He asks before kissing you again, his fingers finding the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, as you moaned, muffled by his mouth, “I want—“

“I know, me too, please — don’t keep me waiting any longer,” and how could he refuse a request like that?

He’s sinking into you, thick cock parting your dripping folds until he hilts himself fully in you, his fingers digging your hips — and you’re so full, too full. And you’re perfect — perfect walls wrapped around him, so warm and so tight — it’s enough for him to neatly blow his load then and there.

But he can’t, can’t when he’s waited this long to do this. You’re whimpering, “S’good, Kento, too good,” your walls flutter around him as his hips shift lightly, “please, please move—“ his hands find your legs, lifting them higher to find a better angle, fingers digging into your soft thighs.

And his hips slowly thrust into you, edging you with his shallow thrusts, and you’re whining, “Kento—“

“Look at the mess you’re making all over your desk,” he’s guiding your gaze with two fingers on your chin, making you watch where his cock is sunk into you, “taking me so well, practically swallowing me, good fuckin’ girl,” he grunts, “want it harder? Want me to fuck you?”

Your desk is already creaking under your weights and the movements, you’re nodding wordlessly, lips parted, “Kento, please, I need—“ and you watched his cock pull out only to slam back in. Your head falls back, moaning his name again and again.

The squelch of your cunt rang in his ears over and over, as he grunts, barely keeping himself from cumming, especially when you begin to roll your hips into him, “You’re so pretty, and all mine — just mine,” and his lips find yours again, just as your walls flutter at his words, “like that? Like it when I claim you, love with my cock fucking you?” And his vulgar words only makes you tighter, and he grunts, “‘m close, sweetheart,”

“Me too—g’nna cum—“ and his dick reaches that spot right as his thumb bears down on your clit, teasing it in circles, until you’re moaning his name as you cum. Your walls clamp down, soaking his cock, a white ring of cum around his base as he fucks you through your orgasm.

His eyes meet yours as you do, watching your high overcome you, twitching and moaning — and he doesn’t last much longer. His hips stutter against you in shallow thrusts until he’s notching himself deep inside, groaning as he cums, hot seed painting your walls white.

“So perfect,” he murmurs, as he kisses your sweat slicked forehead, “so good,” and he’s grunting as he pulls out, watching your mixed releases trickle out, leaking all over your desk and onto the floor. He drags his cock over your weeping cunt, watching it flutter around nothing.

“Kento,” you murmur, gazing up at him, utterly blissed out as your lips curl, your legs slipping off his waist as he settles down on your desk, “I love you,”

And his heart squeezes — is he dreaming? He must be dreaming — because nothing in his life has ever been so good. So wonderful. So perfect. It didn’t happen for him — it never happened for him.

“I love you too,” he murmurs reverently, his fingers trailing over your jaw, “so much — you don’t know how much, darling,”

“Think you can quantify it for me, Mr. Salaryman?” And he snorts, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t call me that,” he kisses your neck — you smelled so good, were you real?

“Then what should I call you?”

And he wanted to ask you then — ask you to call him your husband, to marry you, to buy that ring he had looked at from time to time when he thought about marrying you. But you just found your way back to each other — hell, he had just slept with you in your office, not even a bed. It was too soon, but — his lips curled — he was closer than he had ever been before. And he wouldn’t wait, he wouldn’t hesitate, not when it was you. He wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers.

He smiles, “Just call me yours.”

~~~~

FIVE.

Today was the day.

He was finally going to ask. That’s what he thought when he looked at you, still in bed, bathed in the dappled sunlight let in by his parted curtains. You were still fast asleep beside him, body curled up so your body was pressed against him. He ran his fingers through your hair gently not to wake you, “I love you,” he murmurs, as opens his bedside drawer, pulling a ring box and notecard from it — and he stares at it.

He’d ask you. He would ask you to marry him — finally take you on that vacation to Malaysia you both had talked about for too long, read all the books you both had put off, and lounge on the beach — and do much more in your hotel room. And then maybe, maybe he could ask you to retire from jujutsu.

He had always promised himself, promised that he wouldn’t be a sorcerer when he got married. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving a family behind to mourn him — but even more than that, he couldn’t bear the thought to lose you, to call you his wife, call you his soulmate — and have you fall away from him.

He would rather be the one to die.

But this way — he rises, grabbing his clothes for the day, and slipping the ring and the note into his coat pocket — neither of you would have to worry about losing the other. At least to a curse.

“Where are we going?” You giggle as he drags you along the street, packed with people, more than usual. He keeps you close, an arm wrapped around you, especially for a Wednesday evening. What date was it? He had seemingly lost track of everything he had planned.

“It’s Halloween,” you remind him without him asking the question, “explains all costumed people and the packed streets — we should definitely avoid Shibuya — the crowds there would be insane,”

“How’d you know—“ and you tap his forehead with a smile.

“I could see your gears grinding, Kento,” you smile, resting your head against his shoulder, “and it’s just like you to forget it’s Halloween,”

“Is it?” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “well good thing I have you to remind me,”

“Very good thing, and I have you to remind me about everything else,” and he nods, and you elbow him, “you don’t have to remind me of that much!”

“You were leaving the house yesterday and you forgot your wallet, keys, and purse — you almost forgot to put on shoes—“ and you’re covering his mouth his your hand.

“How about you remind me about where we’re going?” And he smiles against your hand, before kissing it gently, pulling it from his lips and kissing the back of your hand as well, making you flush.

“Why ruin the surprise—” and then both of your phones ring — the two of you share a dark look, glancing at your phones and seeing the same message — Emergency: veil has fallen over certain areas of Shibuya. All available sorcerers report.

“I guess we are going to Shibuya,” you sigh, running your fingers through your hair, “we should—”

“We should stop by the apartment — we both left all our equipment there and I need to change,” and you nod, as his fingers toy with the ring box in his pocket, a sigh stuck in his throat. When will he ever get the chance to do this right? Finally, he had worked up the nerve and this—this had to happen.

“Hey,” you cup his cheek, a soft smile on your face, “I’m sorry our plans are falling through, and just when I was going to make you give up this secret surprise,”

His lips curl, as his arm pulls you even closer, “I don’t recall agreeing to give up any secrets,” and you lean up and kiss him, soft and sweet quickly turning heady — neither of you were ones for public displays — but for some reason, it just felt right. And you part, breath warming his lips with a wide grin.

“Oh, you would have,” and he laughs, squeezing your hips, as he rests his forehead against yours, “We’ll pick this up right after we deal with this problem.”

He nodded, leaning down to kiss you again and again, his fingers still toying with the box in his pocket. And he wanted to ask right then, just drop to his knee in the middle of this packed street full of costumed weirdos and freaks, mission be damned, jujutsu be damned — but he didn’t want to do it like this.

He wanted it to be a time where both of you were safe, where you could celebrate without the fear of danger beating down your necks, where he could talk to you, hold you, kiss you — without fear it would be the last. Because he always wondered when it would be the last. But it wouldn’t be — he’d do anything to make it back, to finally take that step with you, the one he’d been waiting for over ten years to take. Take that vacation you both wanted with his ring on your finger, and retirement from Jujutsu around the corner.

And he squeezes your hand, “Promise?” and you lean into him, pulling him along the street back to your shared apartment.

“Promise.”

~~~

He wouldn’t be able to keep his promise.

That’s what kept repeating in his mind with every step he took. He couldn’t really feel much — not anymore. That special grade curse had burned him — burned half of his body to a crisp, he could barely smell the burning flesh anymore. All he could do was keep moving. Moving. Moving. Moving.

But he didn’t want to move anymore — he was tired. So tired. He couldn’t feel much, but he could feel the weight of having to keep going, even if he didn’t want to.

And now, he stands before a swarm of…curses? Transfigured humans? He didn’t know — he could barely see at this point out of his one remaining eye — he could barely keep it open, still drooping even as the monsters loomed before him.

“Malaysia…Yeah, Malaysia…Kuantan would have been nice,” the recommendation he had gotten from Mei Mei when trying to decide on a vacation for you and him to take — who better to ask than the woman with all the time and money in the world, a little brother who’d take her anywhere she wished. You both had settled on Malaysia, still panning out the details of when, but he had planned to surprise you with open ended tickets for the both of you — paid extra for them, in case something came up.

He almost chuckles. Something always came up.

Maybe if you both had liked it enough, he’d have a private home built for the two of you — with the little library nook you always dreamed of having, finally getting around to reading the countless books you both had bought and never read, go through page by page and take back the time you both have lost.

But right now each step felt like an eternity as he walked.

Where was he going again? Oh yes, to help Fushiguro. And what about Naobito and Maki? What had happened to them? There wasn’t much he could do about that.

Tired. He was so tired. I’ve done enough, haven’t I?

Hadn’t he done enough? He thought he had done enough when he left — left it all behind like a nightmare he didn’t care to revisit. Left the loss, the pain, the anger — the curses really — all behind him, in exchange for another set — greed, money, power. What was really the best option? Had he made the right choice?

But then he thought about you.

Your smiles, your touch, your kisses, your laughs — all the times he spent with you — slow mornings spent reading the paper together over coffee and toast from the bakery you always went out of your way to buy his favorites from; lazy evenings spent watching movies or reading, your legs intertwined as you did, his arm around your shoulders, until you plucked the book from his fingers made it so you were only thing his eyes were on; and sleepless but perfect nights spent in each other’s arms. The many times he wanted to ask you — the one question he never got to ask you still burned on the tip of his tongue like a curse unspoken, and he knew if he spoke it now, it would be one.

And so he did what he did best, he dispatched the curses, quick and easy. And his lips curled despite himself — at the thought of you. He could almost feel your lips on his still from earlier, the sweet scent of you instead of the smell of blood or burning flesh, he could almost see you too.

A hand rested on his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

Mahito stared back at him.

Oh. Oh.

It was over.

I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry I can’t keep my promise. I’m sorry I can’t propose. I’m sorry I can’t marry you. I’m sorry I can’t have the life we wanted. I’m sorry I came back only to leave you with the worst curse of them all.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Nanami says, staring back at the curse — and it reminds of that time — that time Mahito had him in his domain, he truly had resigned himself to death. Resigned himself to die — and then Itadori had come crashing in, crashing in as he did his life, saving him. Saving him by not only by his very existence as Sukuna’s vessel, but by just his sheer strength.

That kid had really grown on him — he didn’t want him to. Not when he had the same positivity, the same smile, the same kindness…as Haibara. It was illogical. He wasn’t Haibara — he was Sukuna’s vessel, and he wouldn’t acknowledge him, he wouldn’t until he proved himself. But he’d protect him, and he would do what he could. Because being a child isn’t a sin — but perhaps, being a jujutsu sorcerer is one.

“Yup. The whole time,” Mahito replies, lips upturned in a slight smile, “Wanna chat? We go way back, after all,”

Nanami’s eyes shift to the floor, the muddied and bloodied tiles underneath his feet — he didn’t care to divulge his deepest feelings to a curse. There were only two people he could talk to about this — and one of them, he supposed, was now closer to his being than the other.

Haibara, what the hell was I trying to do? He asks in his mind, not even daring to say the words aloud, I ran. Even though I ran away, I came back with the vague reason of finding the work worthwhile.

And then he sees him. Haibara appears in front of him, patented smile on his lips, as he points south — points right at—

“Itadori,” Mahito says, his eyes narrowing.

“Nanamin!” his eyes wide as he takes in his state — oh, he had hoped no one would see him like this, much less Yuji. He had already been through so much, so young — hell, he had already died once. He didn’t deserve to see this. He didn’t deserve to grow up like this — to have his youth ripped away. But, did any of them deserve it?

It was a marathon, a marathon that they found themselves in that headed only towards a pile of corpses — but each time, they had to pass the baton before they stopped.

Could he finally stop?

He had dropped his baton so long ago, dropped and left the track, but he knew it would be picked up by another and another and another — but it was his baton, his baton that Haibara had handed him before he died in his arms.

No, Haibara. That’s not right. I can’t say that to him. It’ll just end up becoming a curse for him.

But it’s a curse every jujutsu sorcerer had to bear — made to bear until there were either no curses or no sorcerers left.

But he couldn’t regret it now.

“Itadori,” his lips curl, smiling for the last time, “you’ve got it from here.”

He couldn’t keep his promise to you — but he kept his one to Haibara.

And you’d pay the price.

~~~

This wasn’t real. Was it?

You stood outside your shared apartment with Kento. Finally a stop to the fighting for a month for everyone to train — enough time for you to retrieve some cursed weapons you had left behind — not knowing the fight would drag on for this long. You had considering sending someone — maybe not Ijichi but someone else to retrieve them, but right now, you couldn’t bear the thought of someone else rifling through Kento’s things. Moving the things that he had placed just so — the last remnants of his life, the marks he left that proved he was there, that he lived — that he had lived.

Lived. Past tense. And now you were still living — living in a world without him.

You inserted your key and turned the lock, opening the door. And it did, just like it had every day. Each day you’d open it — sometimes before Kento, other days after — but each time, there was always a meal Kento had prepped or bought waiting for you.

And this was the first time that there wasn’t.

Not only a meal — there was no one waiting for you. Not here.

You closed the door behind you — no longer a home, just an apartment. You needed to remember the things you needed, your mind was nowhere to be found, and fled the country when you had heard the news. You didn’t cry. Not at first.

Yuji was the one to tell you. He shouldn’t have been the one to see it. You knew it haunted his dreams, you knew he blamed himself, you knew — because Kento had done the same. So you hugged him, let him cry silently into your shirt, comforted him the best you could — because you knew that’s what Kento would have wanted.

He loved Yuji — he loved Ino too, and the other students all held a special place for him, but Yuji — Yuji was a special case. You knew that from the moment he had spoken about him.

“Gojo wants me to mentor Sukuna’s vessel,” he told you one night in bed, having returned from a mission and having a drink with Gojo — not a real drink, Kento had clarified, since it had no alcohol in it — but a drink nonetheless.

“He has a name, Kento. Itadori. He’s sweet,” you smile, you had met him and all the other first years from teaching, “he’s a good kid — very new to all of this, but he has a good heart and some good skills under his belt.”

“A vessel for the ticking time bomb has a good heart? Glad to hear it,” he sighs, running his hands through his hair, “I don’t know — he was a normal kid two minutes ago, and now he’s running around with Gojo feeding him Sukuna’s fingers every second,” he leans back against the headrest, “what am I supposed to make of this? I’m not even a teacher,”

“And what have you been doing with Ino?” you raise an eyebrow, “that kid is constantly after you, dogging your every step — he looks up to you. “And I know a lot of the other students do too, the ones that know you,”

“It’s—”

“You should do this. It would be good for you,” and he’s hesitating, “Yuji needs a sorcerer to guide him — teach him the basics that Gojo has neglected to do, and show him how a proper jujutsu sorcerer who isn’t…a special case like Gojo, operates.”

Kento’s lips curl, “You know you can call him a moron,”

“Why call him that when I have you to call him that for me?” you snort, “now what do you say?”

And he eventually agreed — and it was the best decision for him. It gave him more purpose, more drive — he seemed even more fulfilled — the most you had seen him professionally fulfilled in quite some time.

“You got it from here.”

His last words to Yuji. You almost have to scoff at the poeticness of it all — the same words Haibara had told him. The ones he hadn’t told you for nearly a decade, until one night he had told you what he said.

“And why didn’t you leave any words for me, Kento?” you ask the empty apartment before you, “for so long, we didn’t have each other — we couldn’t. And we finally find our way back, we finally do all the things we said we would — you’re gone, again,” your voice breaks, “I wish, I wish you were here. I wish I could see you. I wish—” and you break off.

There’s no point for wishing for things that can’t happen. You had things to do, and little time to waste. You needed to get stronger too. You needed to be useful. You needed to fight. You couldn’t tarnish Kento’s memory, or — you look at a picture that you had taken of him and Yuji a few days before outside a convenience store you had stopped by after a mission — his legacy.

You searched for the things you needed, placing them in cloth bags and then paper bags for easy and inconspicuous transport, but you needed to label them. You searched your apartment for a pen — but apparently you had misplaced every single one that you had — where the hell were all the pens? A question you’d usually ask Kento and he’d produce one from thin air. No matter what you lost or what you needed — he had it.

He always had it.

If he did always have what you needed, then maybe…you walk into the bedroom, over to his nightstand — he often kept a notebook for thoughts and notes in his bedside table so maybe—-

And there it was — a pen, but it wasn’t the pen that made you pause — it was the two things beside it.

A notecard and a ring box.

A ring box.

Your hands shake, and you almost want to close the drawer. Forget you say anything. Continue with the work you’re doing. It would hurt less.

But you can’t. You can’t.

You reach for the notecard first, fingers shaking as you gingerly pick it up — and you can tell this wasn’t the first he had written on. You could see the indentations from his pen, this card underneath the others as he had wrote. But his handwriting was neat, yet messy at the same time — his patented half print, half cursive scrawl that he hadn’t left.

Your legs buckle and you sit down on the edge of the bed — the side he used to sleep on, his arm wrapped around your waist, face buried in your back, his lips brushing against your skin when he finally stirred. And now it was empty.

My love, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to ask you this. I’ve thought of ways to ask for years — I had to write it down just so I didn’t mince my words or ramble — you know I’m not one to drag out conversations. I love you. I’ve always loved you from the moment I met you — I know you’d tease me for pining for you, but I did pine for you and I’ve pined for you every second we’re apart. The other times I’ve wanted to ask you, the timing never worked out. But we have the time now, don’t we? Will you do me the honor of being your husband? I’ll spend every second making you happy, because that’s what you deserve, sweetheart. Only the best.

And your tears splatter against the corner of the card, before you put it down, as you let your sobs overcome you, screams you didn’t know you were capable of making— you didn’t even realize it was you, until your throat began to ache.

Why? Why? Why?

It wasn’t real, this wasn’t happening.

And your fingers reach for the ring box now, opening it only to feel more tears well — it was the ring you had showed him. One you had showed him one late night when it had showed up somewhere or another — you hadn’t even thought about the ring again. Until now.

You can’t bear to touch it. You can’t. Not when he wasn’t there to pull it from its box and slip it onto your finger. And he never would be. Not until you saw him again — one way or another.

You snap the box closed, tears slipping down your cheeks as you placed the box and card back into the drawer — noticing something else underneath — a printout? And you pull the papers out, scanning it.

You almost sob. A trip to Kuantan, Malaysia. The trip you two had talked about for months, but never had gone on. The trip was more for Kento than it was for you — and it was for you, in a way, because what you wanted the most was to just be with him. Time was all you wished for with him — all you wanted — but you knew you could have spent every moment with him for the last ten years and it wouldn’t have been enough.

It would never have been enough.

“I miss you,” you speak to the ghosts that fill your mind and haunt your dreams — Kento and Yu, “I hope you’re at peace. I hope you’re lying on a beach somewhere, reading the books you wanted to read, drinking an expensive drink, and eating the bread you love — I promise, I’ll find my way to you, someday,”

And you place the things back in the drawer, and shut it.

For now, you had other things to do. Other people to protect, other curses to exorcise. But — you stare at the picture of the two of you on your nightstand — his love was the one curse you could never give up.

Many months later.

You take that vacation he wanted. Packing the books he always wanted to read. Pocketing the ring he wanted to propose to you with. You’d pack a few shirts of his to wear on the beach, and maybe he would be lying beside you in spirit. You would find that beach he wanted to take you to — the one he had written down and had looked up several times while booking your trip.

You kept the seat beside you on the plane empty but you ordered a glass of wine and a sandwich for him regardless. You know you would have ended up ordering because he likely would have fallen asleep — old man he always was. And if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was sitting in the seat beside you.

He wasn’t dead. Not really, you think as you sit in the beach in one of his deep blue button ups thrown over your swimsuit, reading one of his books page by page, taking back the time that was stolen from him with your own — minutes and hours and days you’d wish you could take off your own and give to him.

He was alive, he was alive as long as you were, as long as the people who he was important to were alive. And he was alive — alive in your head and your heart and your very soul.

You read his proposal aloud as the sun sets, tears slipping down your face as you slip his ring onto your finger. And there it would stay.

Stayed all the seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years you lived -- lived in the house you built in Malaysia when all was said and done for you in the jujutsu world, just as Kento had wanted. Stayed until you finally saw him again. Saw him standing beside Haibara, softly smiling behind him, as your eyes fluttered open as he greeted you. Lips curled in that same smile that damned you from the moment you saw it.

“Don’t keep me waiting, love,” he smiles, the same words you had said to him, “we’ve both waited long enough, haven’t we?”

But neither of you had to wait anymore — as you run into his arms, warm and made of flesh and blood and real, so real — you had forever now.

✴︎ a/n: first, i'm so sorry lol. i don't know how the spirit of gege possessed me but i decided to inflict some pain. i have to thank @laneysmusings for proofing this for me and having to endure this pain. I also want to credit @/tempenensis for their post on haibara / jjk 120 that helped inspire/inform the third to last scene (but they don't like self-insert so i am not gonna tag them, but you should check out their tumblr!

✴︎ taglist: @your-local-simplol, @renawithane, @grooveandshit, @aemondseyesocket, @nitskilanara, @yunchans, @ackermanbby, @luminouslateralup, @multi-fandom3, @idktbhloley, @minteaful, @malleusmybelovedd, @lighttism, @lemonpoppy-seed, @nitskilanara, @wshwshi, @rreborn, @reyy-chanx, @kiradoki, @uroldall, @madam-milf, @elusivemoon

#sab [mlist]#nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #nanami fanfiction #kento nanami angst #jjk angst #nanami x you #nanami x reader

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louebel · 1 year ago

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Hi! Can I request fluff Law x fem!reader where reader is feels sick but tries to ignore it/do things on her own (she’s not used to ask for help) but as a doctor law easily can tell by the signs and it happens during their sea journey on the polar tang? Hope I’m not asking too much love ya 🥺

Feel free to add angst or anything else to your writing ^•^

this is super old and the only request i'll ever do (atm) since i had a wip— ANON SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER <\3 reader is gn since i used the second person and no description.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: trafalgar law × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 6,124 wc. a bit angsty, ends with fluff, emotional reader for the sickness, law is bad at emotions. this turned longer than expected, i hope it's decent xdd hit me up if there's any mistakes lol. supposed to be called windows of the soul,, divider by @ benkeibear my lord and saviour. 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: sickness overtook your body and worsened your already pitiful situation. law has been ignoring you and you have no idea why... but with how you felt, there was no way you could confront him at the moment.

scrub, scrub, scrub...

"... phew ..."

scrub... poof!

"Oh! — damnit — aargh..."

Cleaning today has been a nightmare. Never been so tedious.

Like, it was already uninteresting compared to all the other things you could do, but today it was ten times worse. You could bear it, seeking to make dusting shelves fun by humming some random tune to yourself. It was okay, something you had to do every once in a while. You could do it.

If only you weren't sick.

"Achoo! Achoo! — urgh... Achooo..! Damn."

You began feeling like this some days ago, or so you told yourself as you delicately hunched down to the floor, hoping to grasp the yellow sponge soaked in foam and water without experiencing excruciating pain. However, your hopes soon shattered as your back screamed in agony and your legs trembled with soreness, almost giving up on you.

Just the flu, you insisted, it would go away. A couple of sneezes mean nothing. You would feel better and all would go back to the ordinary.

... Oh, how wrong you were! And how stupid for not getting a day off.

You were capable, though! You counted on your immune system (it sounded heroic the first time you thought of that). One night is all you needed.

Or not.

"Ow, ow..."

You should've told your captain. Sure, it would cost your courage, pride, and dignity, but at least you'd be cured. You'd rather die than tell him you got sick because of the one herb he instructed everybody to avoid.

What's worse is that he's been rather distant, and he's unquestionably avoiding you. The way he shoots daggers — no, whole machetes in your direction every time you do anything, smart or not, is so clear even the crew can see it. And the worst part? You do not know why.

It had been like this for a while now, and you detested this whole plight with passion. Everything was okay between the two of you, you were sure of it! What did you do that spurred such a reaction? From one so dear to you?

Those sweet memories...

From new findings you excitedly presented him, to revealing himself, his past and adventures to you after almost a year of sailing. You knew everything about him. He knew everything about you.

So why? Why stop so abruptly? You didn't mind when he digressed about his newfound coins. When he murmured under his breath while he pored over medical books or mulled about a particular topic. When he stressed over labor and called for a brief break, where you or the crew would attend to him by delivering him a meal or helping when he wasn’t looking. He's so stubborn.

"Uurgh..."

From captain, to Law, to captain again. Not to mention how he deftly stopped you from hanging out with him. You thought he needed space at first. Maybe he was tired and had to rest for the next few days. That’s alright. However, your thoughts deteriorated as the days passed. But well, right now it's better if he doesn't see you at all. Nor the crew‌ — oh, the damn crew. Those two.

The "two" being the pair of nitwits that constantly stand by law's side and grin at you. Seriously...

You do not understand what Penguin and Shachi find so amusing about your situation with him. It's a tragedy, not a comedy. You love them both, truly, the minute you stepped into the polar tang they were the first ones to get you to open up and all, but goodness, you wish you could beat them for sitting there, cackling and clapping their hands while confiding some mysterious comments to each other when la — the captain, showed up in the area and walked past you with an unreadable gaze. He'd constantly salute you and the others with a bow of his head or more, depending on his mood.

Now? If he saw one inch of your form?

Sigh. His face always went red.

Why can't those two just tell you? Even Ikkaku seemed to know something you didn't. She was more subtle about it, though. Jean Bart wasn't slick either. You could see him smile from a mile away. Hakugan and Clione? Shachi and Penguin 2.0, except they hid behind Jean Bart. The rest pitied you instead, sometimes patting your back — sometimes shaking their head almost in disbelief. Oh, and Bepo gave you suspicious smiles! Every time he tried to say something to you, those two animal hat-wearing goblins silenced him. Did they just want you to suffer?

And if they did want that then their curses were working because even after grabbing the sponge (almost losing your temper as it slipped through your gloved palm twice) and straightening back to an erect pose, your head was still banging with fervor, muscles barely reacting.

If only you could snuggle with the fluffy, warm mink right now. A bitter sigh rushed past your lips at the thought.

Those two were just so mean. But Law was much meaner — the captain, the captain... Yes, the captain. That... That dummy.

You groaned and shook your head while forcing your wobbly arms to scrub the table, exhausted mentally with this never-ending train of thoughts and these fanciful fists leaving invisible bruises all over your poor body. Not to point out those hands pinching your brain like dough...

Just — you... Goodness, what was it he suddenly despised so much? The submarine felt like home. It was home, especially when he joined you. Now when he does, he — the aura he emanates is intimidating, yet everyone is either unaware of it or not affected by it.

What made him so resentful? You can barely say anything when he strides into the place, too panicked to learn how he would perceive you or talk to you if you go on. It's like you're back on step one, isolated, too scared to be yourself with your family. Because of one man who's supposed to be the head of it.

Being you felt like a sin when close to him, as if he preferred the private variant of who you are, and shunned your curious and spirited self. You could understand since he’s rather closed off and well, in a certain aspect you are too, but — did he not like you at all? Was it all an act to not offend you? He didn't seem to dislike your vivid reactions initially, or your foolish gestures when nearing a fresh island. You were often silent, smiling and listening to others converse, but when around your companions, you easily liked to open up since it was the only time you could do so. And they were more than just that. You entrusted all the members of the heart pirates. They meant everything to you. Even him, who stopped including you.

Ugh...

You wished it could all go back to normal.

This disease enjoyed fumbling with your previously scrambled sentiments. Law did mention it brought a high fever and emotional susceptibility. You didn't consider it'd be this severe.

"... Okay, I'm done."

You certainly weren't, with your bed unmade and furniture still dusty; floor imploring for a good wash. However, with the croaky voice you had paired with your runny nose, you doubted you could do more. Even if you did, it'd be better not to.

You peered down at the bucket full of water that probably smelled better than you at the moment, ignoring the small puddle beside it made by your poor handling sponges skills. Grimacing, you decided to leave it where it was in case carrying it back turns out to be a challenge. Hopefully, Ikkaku can provide you help later.

Looking around, your droopy eyelids dimmed your perspective and further provoked you as both exasperation and exhaustion mixed and boiled in your gut, room so messy it mirrored your current state. You didn't know what was irritating you more: the light of the lamp or the disarray you resided in.

Howling dejectedly, you turned and plodded to your bed, opening your arms, ready to throw yourself on the mattress. The more you sleep, the sooner you'll get better. Yeah, you're so brilliant. You closed your eyes and —

knock knock.

— reopened them a second after, remaining immobile for an extra few before glowering at your door, contemplating whether to go open it or linger to determine if they'd leave. Hmm.

You waited.

... knock knock.

Fantastic.

You gritted your teeth, drawing a profound breath to settle your nerves, haywire thanks to the hellish illness. They didn’t deserve to withstand your rage, but who knows, maybe by seeing your shape, they'll show sympathy and tell you. That could work.

Okay.

You sluggishly trudged to the door, not bothering to adjust your unbuttoned pajamas and faking a cheerful facade. You hoped your face didn't look too awful, but you couldn't care less right now.

Gripping and twisting the knob, you pushed it open, greeting them with the feeblest voice you've ever had, your sore nose making it unthinkable to inhale air. You rubbed the back of your head while doing so, eyelids closed to evade any light.

"Yo, Penguin, Shachi, how can I—" the words automatically came out of your coarse and blazing throat, opening your eyes a bit to look at... them...

Then you saw a tattoo. And more tattoos. No white, poofy boiler suits in sight.

By barely seeing light before, you tried giving yourself mercy, but now you were only slaughtering yourself to make sure the person in front of you was, well. Him.

Your jaw fell while your brows lifted in consternation, but shortly returned down thanks to your declining headache. Your pupils then scaled the mountain of mass before you and arrived at the peak. Another pair of eyes.

Cool, gray eyes. The ones that just a week ago welcomed you with compassion and comfort. Now they drive you to wither away from this world. Even if you look up to them. (Hehe, get it? man, you're so silly, wow.)

"—help … Captain. Uh, hello." and there goes your comfort zone.

You tried swallowing down air but got pounds of mucus down your stomach instead, curved posture closing up even more in his presence, ashamed to be seen in such a weak state, instantly regretting not managing your appearance as his gaze scrutinized you from top to bottom, probably displeased with how you presented yourself..

You looked everywhere but at him. He only looked at you.

Envy spurted from the plant’s toxins. How could he focus on one thing and have so much confidence to stare at someone without breaking eye contact at all? If you do the same for longer than two seconds, it feels like whoever looked at you has seen your entire personality, life, darkest secrets that you didn't really have, closest people to you — everything in poor words. The windows of your soul, perpetually agape.

How does he keep them closed? Why can't you seal them at all? Why?—

"—so care to explain the meaning of this?"

"Huh?"

You stupidly stared at him, blinking and glancing at his shoulders, then back at him to break whatever spell he put on you, not able to concentrate at all.

Barely could you see the annoyed expression on his face. You hoped he wasn't dealing with excessive stress. Making him feel worse was not your intention.

"I said, care to explain what this is? You look... terrible—" you cringed at that, "—and you haven't come out of your room since this morning. Do you have any idea what time it is?" His scrutinizing tone made you want to crawl under your blankets and stay there forever, but his patronizing gaze didn't let you.

You could merely fidget with your fingers and glance back at the floor to relieve your worries, which mixed with pain, fatigue, and dirtiness. You called for sleep so badly.

"I'm—I'm sorry, Captain. I, uh, I didn't—" sniff, "—mean to skip my duties. Sorry."

His brow creased in suspicion at your raspy voice and poor shape.

"Is that so? Look at me while you say it." if his words weren't menacing enough, his tone was too. He knew you couldn't do that. Especially now.

"Uh..." you unconvincingly whispered, continuing to play with your fists, until rubbing your nape once more, shuddering at how chilled your hands were compared to it.

Your actions were, again, spotted by him, and if one more thing occurred, then he'll be correct.

"Well? I'm waiting."

"..."

Sighing exasperated, you raised your head to look into his pupils once again.

Unbeknownst to you, he already confirmed another of his impressions while taking a further view of your sullen visage.

"I, uhm, overslept, Captain. That — that happens sometimes, yeah? Sorry about that. I'll—I'll..." stopping for a moment, you squinted your eyes and scrunched your nose while the man before you attentively fixated his stare on your frame and—

"Achooo!" —covered half of your face whilst he recoiled back at the loud sneeze you let out, not expecting it at all. He blinked, then you sneezed again, and again. Streak of three.

If your voice and glossy eyes already told everything to the doctor, the continuous sneezes only reinforced his thesis.

You exhaled haplessly as he sternly said your name.

"You're sick." his firm and coherent words could not be fooled. Your fate was sealed.

"...Yeah." at this point, you didn't care. He was gonna scold you, nothing you could do about it. You could only hope he'll do that after you're cured because right now, you could barely stand still without shivering. You were sure if he wanted to do something he would have already, so he definitely will have a talk with you after you're healthy.

"Why?" you've been proven wrong so many times this morning — afternoon. Evening? That you don't know what's gonna happen next.

You stared at him numbly, almost done with everything.

"What do you mean 'why'? I don't, I don't know. Probably our... Ugh, our last stop, isn't that obvious—"

"Not that. Why didn't you say anything? To the others? To me?"

If it wasn't for your head beating incessantly and the aching of your tendons ruining everything, you would think this was a dream.

You kept gawking at him like a goldfish. His timbre wasn't as stern as it regularly was. It was a bit, just a tad bit lower. Like, barely. His eyes were softer, and if you met the man yesterday, you wouldn't be capable of identifying his mood. It's because you knew him for so long that you could distinguish it.

"I..." you mumbled talks under your breath, awfully feeble to maintain the discussion, barring your eyes and hitching away when Law planted his freezing hand on your forehead. You fussed in protest, although it didn't last long.

"You're cold... Off."

"My hands are perfectly fine. You're burning," he interrupted you, stating the obvious. But you were far too deep to listen, fatigued.

"Yeah... M'sorry." you nodded while deliberately looking down in shame, almost dropping to the ground out of fatigue. Everything seems hazy, the pressure in your skull fading, while the breaths you took were meager.

Something skimmed over your shoulder and nape — ah, his fingertips — palm carefully tilting your head back up. Your mouth hung open, and you attempted to focus on your captain's facial features and the iconic hat to not fall asleep.

"It's fine." But his gentle approach and mellow maneuvers set you in a soothing trance, where you couldn't do anything other than auscultate him.

It’d be an exceptional moment to speak up about these last days, his odd actions.

"It... It is? You, ah... You're not..." but you struggled to do so, chest too heavy to speak. He narrowed his eyes, striving to make out what you were saying, but it was all incomprehensible to him.

"I'm not?" he urged you to proceed, getting closer — he felt warm. Wasn't he cold some seconds ago? Ah, he’s draping his coat over your shoulders, so, so cozy, — and holding you as if you were glass. Why was he holding you? It felt nice, undoubtedly nice. Oh, you were going to fall, you think.

“Hey—hey. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.”

Cradling you in his arms, Law cursed and crouched down, snaking an arm under your knees and sweeping you up, a short "there" slipping from his tongue, keeping you close to his breast. Naturally, you snuggled close to the source of heat, losing consciousness, unaware of your surroundings, his distress, and jogging to the infirmary.

“Hey. Keep your eyes open. No, no, open—yes, yes, like that. Good job. A bit more, then you can go to sleep, alright?"

While nodding lazily when he said your name again, you curled up for more warmth, and he mellowly followed your movement, hefting you up and pressing his lips upon your forehead, his frown deepening at how high the temperature was. He needed to administer medicine quickly.

"Law …'m sorry if I smell."

He scoffed. Thinking of such idiotic things was exactly like you, sputtering them out so bluntly. Rolling his eyes was natural at this point.

"That's my last concern. We'll think of your scent and hygiene later. Don't speak. Shh."

So stupid, so stupid. He should've confronted you ever since you left the island. He should've. It's been a recurring pattern these days. He couldn't see you because of his work but spoke with the others at breakfast, lunch, dinner... They all grew concerned about your distance. Uni shared that it began right after the departing... He knew something wasn't right with you, he could feel it.

Back in that inhabited location, he quickly took note of your drooping posture and fatigued breathing. He wanted to ask about it, but the following days, you acted normal, and Law thought you were queasy because of the heat.

Then he got busy checking on the crew's documents, medicine supply, the damn broken scope Hakugan sadly reported, bounties, news — and something else. He managed to give a check-up to everyone but you. It was mandatory after leaving an island.

With you evading him and him doing the same, this happened. Great. He could only hope it wasn't contagious.

... Wait.

He gritted his teeth in sour realization — Not once has he seen you in the halls or dining hall. No one mentioned you, either. Have you eaten anything at all? Oh, you imbecile.

He palmed your skin through your suit, easing your laments and whimpers, walking through the hallways of the Polar Tang and reaching the infirmary. Kicking the door open while lulling you a bit, shushing and fluttering his eyelids at your sick and quaking form.

"There we go. Shh, I know, I know, it's awful."

Uplifting the blankets, he quickly covered you and began searching for his equipment, rustling and metal clicks tangling with your whines.

"U- uuh... W- where..?"

"I'll be there in a second. I'm here."

As he said that, he quickly came back to you, already stirring medicine in a cup. He had to give to you before you blacked out or fell asleep. Sliding a hand under your back, he carefully pushed you up, gaining a groan from you; you sounded so tired. Tipping your head forward, he brought the rim of the cup to your lips. You were delirious, could barely see or feel, but managed to follow his direct instruction to "open". The first glass was tasteless, fresh... water.

The second tasted awful.

"E—eugh..."

"A couple more sips and we're done. Come on, you're doing good."

Once you drank it all, with a small praise from Law, he gently laid you back down, about to check your vitals. He knew you were in no condition to do as he instructed, it would be all him. Idiot, idiot...

Just looking at you made him guilty. He never saw you this awful. However, what truly pushed him were your next phrases.

“Do you feel better now..?”

Low and dry, they all were. He halted his movements, his hands in the bag, shifting his attention to you.

Your question puzzled him.

Feel better? Him? He was fine. Perhaps you thought the disease was contagious? No; you would've phrased that diversely. His forehead creased, slightly tilted to the side.

"What?"

“I … I missed you."

And as clear drops cascaded down your cheeks, his limbs froze, a bittersweet ache striking his chest.

"I—I thought I did something wrong … I’m sorry … Should've told you. 'M sorry ... really...”

Shit.

“No, no, don’t be. It’s alright, don't—don't speak. You did nothing. Shh...”

And if you stayed conscious for some more seconds, you could've seen those severe pupils mitigate. The windows of his soul open up; the "stern" gaze he preserved for you withering in an instant at your vulnerability.

All he wanted to do was clear that up. When, now..?

“I—I’m the one that should’ve apologized, damn it…”

"Aargh..."

Warm.

"Mmh..."

It was very warm. Pleasant.

"Hn..."

The boilersuit felt different. Heavier, and not … poofy. Hm.

The pillow was so nice, though...

You sought a better position under the comforting and amiable regime of your blanket, squinting your glistening eyes as if sand had struck them; eyebrows knitting in distaste and discomfort, choler cramming up your insides — but not for long, extremely achy and sleepy to lament.

Shouldn't it be easier to relax now that you are tired? Shifting left and right left your muscles throbbing. The peace you could achieve in your dreams was all you begged for. But no, you just had to rise two more times in the span of minutes or hours.

When you woke up the third time, someone surprised you. He was perching on a chair near the infirmary's bed, head, presumably about to doze off. An encyclopedia of vegetation and exotic environs sat in his palms and dotted jeans, the cover made of green-coloured leather, firm to the touch.

He looked peaceful.

"... Law?"

Your lashes fluttered at the fierce shudder that rocked his frame, the textbook about to fall, his eyes snapping open and rapidly darting up to you.

"Oh. You woke up. Good. Good evening."

You were mad at him. You were mad at him.

His lips were indubitably moving. Whatever he was saying, you were not listening. Something about being out for hours, but you were too out of it to pay attention.

And looking down at your body, your eyeballs almost popped out of your sockets at the sight of... Not your boilersuit.

"I'm in my pajamas?"

"And — hm? Oh. I changed you." Pause. "With my devil fruit, of course. Obviously. You were way too hot in it."

"..."

Pause number two.

"I'm hot?" You bluntly said,

"Not in that way." And he quickly retorted, bashful. You immediately got gloomy.

"Oh..." You and Bepo were alike. He couldn’t help but sweatdrop.

"No, no, no, don't — you look fine. That's not what I meant."

A hoarse chuckle ripped from your sensible larynx, a noise that he hadn't heard in a while. His back loosened at your jovial note, the pressure applied on the envelope of the manual lessening.

There was a superb illustration of the flora you accidentally whiffed.

"You inhaled it, didn't you?"

... Silence followed. Then a sigh.

"A simple allergy with a sore throat and emotional instability in the first phase caused by the pollen, weakened muscles and headache in the second, and heightened senses, nausea, and worsening of the body in the last one. You felt them all."

Quick and precise, each symptom he mentioned appeared throughout the weeks you boarded on the Polar Tang. He hit the mark. Glancing at him from the corner of your eyes, you nodded sheepishly, feeling hot in your cheeks.

"Y—Yeah."

"I thought I mentioned dodging those peculiar red flowers. I don't expect you to recall the name, but to avoid it. Thankfully, you only inhaled its pollen, or else you would've been in this bed the moment we departed."

"O—oh... That bad?"

"No, not really. The symptoms would've developed quicker, but nothing dangerous. Perhaps you would have slept over two days, as all cases do when encountering this allergy," He narrows his eyes at you, shutting the book and crossing his long legs, his foot jouncing. "Not at all fatal, only worrying when the patient in question mentions nothing about the symptoms and overworks themselves.”

“Hey—”

“You're fine."

A small huff left your lips, nodding lazily. Nothing was uttered after from both sides. Occasional groans from yours. Only then he spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"..." The answer was simple. He immediately found the illness yet couldn't pinpoint the cause of this? It was almost ironic. Your quietude wasn't taken well.

"Well?"

"... You ignored me. You made it clear."

And he was faking ignorance. That glance, his attitude. You knew him too well, but had no energy to call him out.

"I—I didn't."

"Don't play coy, Law. Did I do something? Even the others know. Penguin and Shachi told me. I—"

You paused when he raised his hand, glancing at it in confusion, then back at him, twice or more. He sighed and dropped it back on his thigh again, using his other one to rub his temple in distress.

"You did nothing. I don't know what... Shachi and Penguin said," You tilted your head at his peculiar manner of quoting them. "But I've got nothing against you."

He stopped rubbing and lifted his head to check on you again and you were unsure of what to say. His brows wrinkled the tender skin of his forehead, severity, and minor unease painting every fiber of his appearance.

You just... didn't know.

"Really? Then why those weird stares? Why leave the room the moment I come in? I mean." you flailed your hands around, looking everywhere as if you could find an explanation. "You never behaved this way, Law, not with anyone. I... It was fine before, right? Let me ask again, did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not!"

At his hasty exclamation, you blinked, uncertain why he became as rigid as stone. Palms back on the blanket, you awaited an elaboration of his thoughts, observing his adumbral face to detect any key to figure out what caused him to alter his ways with you. However, his hat, which you've always appreciated for its fluffiness, turned out to be an issue. Those eyes you've grown so fond of refused to meet yours.

You just couldn't get it. The surrounding air grew an intoxicating no romance book would mention, one that did the contrary of setting your heart aflame, that poor muscle of yours.

If he explained, it would've been easier.

"Okay, 'of course not' ... Sure—"

"We are not having this conversation. You need rest."

He briskly cut you off, and your heart felt constricted. The words felt bitter upon both of your tongues, so bitter and revolting, they made his jaw clench and your eyes water. You weren't having it. Absolutely not.

"I feel better now, thank you, and I say we're having this right here." You pushed, ignoring how he clenched his tattooed fist.

"No—"

"Yes, Law! I don't know what I did, but if it bothers you, shouldn’t you tell me? There are things we can all miss."

The pang in your brain was still active, and you had no patience nor strength to argue. Either he spoke up or you'd go straight to sleep.

"I... You did nothing that bothers me."

His speech was almost a whisper, a low rumble, and were you in your regular state, you'd feel sad to see him like this. Law had no trouble speaking up— perhaps with apologies, or admitting to be wrong when in the midst of a conversation. Maybe something genuinely bothered him. But he'd tell you, wouldn't he? He had to.

But you weren't the only one who had to consider the consequences. He also had to do his part.

"... And?" you encouraged him, to gain something, something that would lead you both to that damned thing you were both chasing, that ounce of understanding.

“And—and what?" alas, it served another wave of blistering dissatisfaction down upon the membranes of your boiling stomach.

He couldn't be serious.

"... Whatever. I'm going to sleep."

"What?"

You detested how you were feeling, a volcano of passions, the pounding in your skull, and the heat, and the ludicrous, nagging insecurity, all these wretched, gristly sensations shoved in your mouth and scraping your gullet, such a relucting and squalid dish, contaminating your palate and inflaming the gums of your teeth.

But all Law could see was how your eyes moistened and reddened, the crinkles at the corners of your mouth, the contracted tissues above your nose.

You couldn't feel how his heart plummeted, either. Again, he caused you to cry.

"Hey... I—"

"No, Law, no! I said leave! You ignored me for almost two weeks and now—now you're just..!"

Perhaps you were being a bit too "dramatic" for something you could solve with a modest exchange, something that, compared to all the obstacles you and Law went through, was a sheer grain of dust in your shoes. Yet you erupted for the frustration, the plant's effects and that nameless thing you'll bring in your grave, for if he knew, he'd probably pity you.

Maybe, just maybe, he should've kept ignoring you. If solely to dim that warmth. The glow in your eyes that only sparked with him.

"I don't mind if you need time. I don't mind if you're busy or whatever, that's obviously fine! But can't you tell me? Is it that hard? Instead of treating me like a stranger? Just—just, just leave..."

Your snotty voice seemed ridiculous, resounding through the infirmary alongside your sobs and sniffles. Vision tarnished by your tears, staring at the ceiling with resignation. It alarmed Law, whose emotions were already scattered; unnerved, anxious.

He couldn't take seeing you like this. He couldn't.

"That’s not it! I... I just — I..!" His broken explanations fell as your cries didn't stop; spasms traveling through your frazzled nerves. He swore under his breath, getting up and coming to you, standing close but so, so distant. His fingers jerked, impatient to wipe your tears, to calm you down, to assure you everything was alright, and this was all on him.

"What..?" you meekly whimpered, gazing at him as he appeared in your sight.

"I, I..!" if only he could express himself. You'd figure out. If only he could, without buckling and tearing apart at the weight of his own feelings.

"... You what, Law?"

It was tough to see with all those tears coating your scleras, but... His lips quivered. His jaw tensed.

His hands craved yours.

"I like—I like you!"

... You wondered if illusions were part of the symptoms. Your eyelids were all but relaxed. Popeyed.

"There. I said it. I mean it. Seriously. I—I think I love you."

You could feel his frantic grip, slightly pulling the blankets in his direction, tense as him. You've never seen Law so … jittery with you. Perhaps when he slowly spoke of his past, or when his plan failed.

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I... I was confused. I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't... No, okay. I, I love you, but you don't have to reciprocate, really. ‌I just wanted to clarify that I wasn't—"

This was different, however. Not the same vulnerability, nor agitation. That teetering edge coating his sayings, not at all close to those instances.

"... Law."

"—ignoring you, I mean, I was, but I just couldn't face you, you know? I didn't know how to act—"

That glow, those feelings. The twinkle in his eyes Bepo mentioned when you spoke of something that fascinated you, that rare grin on his lips, and that sweetness, the swelling in his chest, and the red, and the breath of fresh air, and the intoxicating romance books loved to talk about...

Those tints blooming in his cheeks. The faint relaxation of his defined brows. How he covered his pretty, vulnerable self.

He's no different from you. Oh, oho ho, no, he wasn’t. Only now did you realize.

"Law."

"—but I missed you so much, I missed your presence, being with you, I—"

Your heartbeats matched.

"Law!"

You understand now. The definitive yell induced him to quit his blabbering, and eventually, he found your gaze. Those windows were not locked at all. Not marginally, not halfway. They were fully open. You could see him.

"It's... the same."

It was all you could utter. His jaw loosened, and you could recognize his wide, stormy irises.

"Huh? Wh — what?"

"I feel the same way, Law. I—I love you too."

Yours were open, too. They always were- yet he never acknowledged what dwelled inside. Two fools you both were.

"... Oh..." and a breathless whisper was all he could offer.

The silence dissipated. A delightful warmth occupied your rib cage. The pressure was gone.

All is back to normal.

"If... If you weren't sick. I'd kiss you." He mumbled, and his lips looked more luscious than ever. He shouldn't have said that. Now it was even harder.

"P—pfft... Of course, of course. Can you come closer, at least?" you pouted, giving him the best puppy eyes you could muster. “Pretty please?”

"... Fine. It's — not contagious, anyway," he huffed, his cheeks a light pink, and he sat on the margin of the infirmary's bed, hustling just a tad bit closer...

Closer...

"Closer?"

"Alright."

His ears grew pink at your giggles. Your fingers graced each other, "DEATH" entwined with you. His hands were lukewarm. Long, slim, calloused in some places, but also tender to the contact. His metacarpals were partially discernible, defining the shadows. He took care of his nails, ensuring they were cut short, although they appeared slightly, just somewhat lengthier than usual. Not considerably, however; they were still short.

How you missed holding it.

"Sorry, by the way. About everything." Squeezing his hand, you attempted to show him what it meant to you. He squeezed it back, brushing the top of your hand with his thumb, a pensive and solemn look on his face.

"No- I should apologize for not saying anything sooner. I neglected and avoided you. I … I don’t know what to do. You know I’m not the type for relationships.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, but weren't as worried as Law. You'll wait. Nothing would change.

“Mmm. I can wait for you, Law.” Saying it seemed to take him off guard, as if he hadn't thought about it. Or, rather, didn't expect you to propose it. In his head, it seemed silly because it's him. If you were to ask in his place, he'd also wait.

He felt lighter.

“… Truly?”

“Yeah. We can figure it out together. Like we always did. I’ve loved you for years." He inhaled deeply, your words buttery and sweet. "I’m fine with waiting longer.”

Thinking you wouldn't accept, if he asked, was stupid of him too. Of course you would. Of course. With another squeeze, he nodded, and turned his head away from you a bit.

His eyes glistened.

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

You smiled, too, saying nothing in return.

He can take all the time he needs.

After some days, everything went back to the typical routine. The first thing you did was knock Shachi and Penguin's heads, (supported by Ikkaku) and since Hakugan and Clione were on duty, you couldn't do the same for them.

You puffed your cheeks and enjoyed chewing the well-earned treat you snagged from the kitchen, reorganizing boxes since this morning.

"Tired?"

Peeking at the door, a smile adorned your mouth at the sight of your captain leaning on it.

"Mm, there were a lot of them."

"You could've asked for help. You know I don't want any of you to strain yourselves with tasks."

"I had it. Don't worry. Although..." another bite. "I miss it."

"Hm?" he crooned, tipping his head forward. "Miss what?"

You gazed into his eyes, "Miss getting pampered by you when I was sick." lovingly observing how they enlarged a bit before returning to the stoic stare he always wore, swaying his head to dismiss your remarks. The chambré tint on his cheeks was as clear as day, like his light smile. Not that you'd tell him, he'd immediately disregard it.

"... Meet me at my office once you're done."

As he turned his back to you, his boots making clicky rumors with each step, your smirk amplified... After all, who could wait to get coddled by none other than their favorite captain?

#law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece imagine #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x you

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milliesfishes · 3 days ago

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౨ৎ꣑ৎThe Greater Good౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: kidnapping, implied sexual assault, weight loss, abandonment pairing: fem reader x billy the kid summary: you broke billy's heart when you left him, but there's more to the story than he thought author’s note: welcome back to angst hehehe Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Muscles aching, limbs hardly able to hold him up, Billy breathed in. The air around the home you shared had to be different than whatever else he was breathing elsewhere. Even the mere idea of your presence settled ease over his joints, a calm raining on him.

He let his horse graze, wandering up the walk. Wildflowers sprouted from the grass leading up to the cabin, blooming in that pretty blue color you loved. Bending, he snapped a few of their stems, imagining how they'd look when he tucked them into your hair. His beautiful girl.

Usually he wouldn't arrive home until the sun was well gone from the sky, but he'd managed an early leave today. When it was just him, he had no reason to come home, let alone when he didn't yet feel like sleeping. You added a purpose to his life, a reason to look at the clock.

Love had been a weakness in his past, something to rid himself of. He'd lived many years avoiding it at all costs, certain being loved by him was the worst debt to ever owe. Bad things happened to the ones he loved. Death, sickness. He saw what love did to his mother when his father met an untimely end.

Any notions flew with you. You and your doe eyes and soft words, showing him that love didn't need to be a fight, a struggle. No, your love was soft. Kind. It was patient, careful and sweet. Everything you were, manifested in a feeling. He'd married you as soon as he could, determined to have you for any semblance of forever.

From the moment he learned of the baby, he was smitten, more than he previously thought possible. The back of his mind told him that the more his love grew, the more dangerous it became, but he brushed it away. For all the good in his world, the bad couldn't possibly measure up.

He'd doted on you hand and foot when you were pregnant, conscious of every ache and pain and change in your body. And when Kat finally came, the joy only multiplied. Your daughter was a spitting image of you, but you insisted her hair was like his. Dark and curly and unruly, a head full of it.

Though there were moments he swore were pure magic, the hardship of new parenthood had painted the past month. Kat was up nearly every hour at night crying over one thing or another, and she hadn't taken to eating the way you had hoped. You had been struggling with her during the day for the past couple of weeks, collapsing in tears at the end of the day and whispering that you didn't know what to do. Billy tried to be supportive as well as he could, taking Kat so you could have a rest, trying to navigate nursing with you.

That was what he was hoping to do tonight. Take the baby off your hands for a little while, maybe coax her to sleep and fix dinner. It'd been so long since you'd had some time just the two of you, since he'd really been able to take care of you. These fantasies drifted through Billy's mind as he arrived at the doorstep.

Pausing, his brow scrunched into a furrow when he picked up on the sound of crying. Billy's footsteps became urgent, and he pushed the door open, the crying getting louder. Removing his hat and hanging it on the hook, he called your name once as he opened the door to the bedroom. You were nowhere to be found.

"Hey, baby," he muttered, tossing the flowers on the dresser and moving toward Kat. She was lying on her back in her cradle, little arms flailing as he reached down for her. Once she was on his chest, her crying began to slow, and he settled a palm on her back, rubbing it gently. "There we go. It's okay, kitty Kat." He kissed her head, taking in a deep breath of her baby smell. "Where's mama, huh?" You were usually so quick to snatch Kat up to be soothed, even if it didn't always work. "Is mama outside?"

He wandered over to the window, peering outside while swaying Kat carefully, trying to lure her back to sleep. You weren't in the back, and he knew for certain you weren't out front.

A dreadful feeling began to settle in his stomach. He walked back into the kitchen as fast as he dared with the baby in his arms, calling your name once more. You wouldn't leave Kat alone like this, especially not when she was crying. He searched the tiny space as if you'd pop up from one of the cabinets or rise from beneath the floorboards.

His heart was beginning to race. Billy said your name again, but it was a whisper. Panic was seizing his heart, squeezing every last bit of light out of it. Frantic, his eyes darted around the room, landing on something resting on the table.

A familiar gold wedding band with a single flower engraved in the top.

Something sank into his chest, spreading like a poison all through his body. There was a tidal wave of confusion washing over his body as he thought back to the last time he'd seen you. This morning, when you'd been woken by Kat.

You'd taken her out of her cradle, pulled your nightdress down to feed her. He remembered bits and pieces. How you'd watched your daughter eat, the softest of smiles playing at your lips. The sun had barely started to come up, light sneaking through the part between the curtains. You were angelic, stunningly beautiful in a way that would have him in worship for the rest of his days.

He'd left you sleepy eyed, lying back down with Kat resting soundly on your chest, with a kiss to your forehead and a promise he'd be back soon. It had been hard to tear away.

And now you were gone.

This wasn't a break in. There was no sign of struggle. No, you'd taken the time to leave the ring right where he'd see it. Even though he knew he wouldn't find it, he went to the front window in search of your horse. Gone.

Emptiness was coursing through his veins in place of blood. Unwittingly, he clasped Kat closer, chasing the air flying out of his lungs. She wiggled, one of her little hands flying to his cheek. The touch brought him back to earth, and he wearily looked around, trying to find a way out of the fog he'd been thrust into.

Gone. You couldn't be gone. No, you wouldn't leave him like this, abandon the life you'd both worked so hard to build. You wouldn't leave Kat.

It was an internal battle. You wouldn't leave him. But the wedding ring was undeniable proof.

Had you been unhappy? Billy's regret swamped his insides, and all he could think of was everything he should have done. You'd been struggling with Kat and he'd known it. He should have worked fewer days, should have held you tighter and told you more often how much he loved you. The way he loved you filled oceans and transcended expression, but he should have tried. To keep you, he would always try.

Dazed, he looked down at Kat, but all he could see was you. Closing his eyes, Billy sank to the ground, back against the wall. He wanted to weep, wanted to run off in every direction until he found you. The way he was feeling, he'd search every corner of the earth until you were found. His instinct was to fight it, to undo what was already done.

His tired eyes opened, catching again on your wedding band, sitting there like an omen. This was the first time he'd seen it apart from your hand in years. Even when you were only engaged, you wore it proudly, a symbol on your finger that announced you were his.

Kat stirred against his chest, and he willed himself to stand, mindlessly taking her back to the bedroom. When he tried to put her back into her cradle, she began to cry, and so he ended up lying back in bed with her, still in his work clothes.

Your side still smelled like you. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he blinked them away quickly, forcing himself to look back at Kat. Her breathing was steady, and he kept a hand on her back, hoping she'd sleep for longer now that he was here. The sun was setting now- he could tell by the way the shadows were facing now. He'd been lying here longer than he thought.

Staring up at the ceiling, Billy felt himself transition into numbness. He tried to imagine tomorrow or the day after, coming up blank. The idea of having to do this by himself was daunting. Not just raising his daughter. Living. Billy shut his eyes, exhaustion swallowing him whole. He'd gone through every emotion possible thinking about you for the past while, but one stood still, nibbling at the edges of his heart.

He missed you.

Pulling off his work gloves, Billy wiped the sweat from his brow and tipped his hat up to squint into the horizon. The sun was still above the horizon, meaning he'd finished right on time. He shoved the gloves into his belt, whistling as he gathered the rest of his tools to take back to the barn.

The property he worked on wasn't rough, but it was just challenging enough to keep him busy. But even if it'd been a ranch on impossible earth, he'd have kept at the job. The pay was good, and the owner was a fair man. Due to the quality of Billy's work, he was able to negotiate the schedule. The rancher had children of his own, and he had a sympathetic ear for Billy's struggle raising a daughter on his own.

He'd known that day he came home that you weren't coming back. The next few months solidified it. Now, at just past a year since the day, you were merely a memory. Something that lingered like a ghost, though he couldn't see it fully.

If it hadn't been for Kat, Billy knew he'd have gone off the deep end. He distracted himself from his grief by throwing himself into loving her. Every second with his baby girl was a gift, and he constantly marveled at everything she was.

She still had trouble getting to sleep, but once she did, she was out for the entire night. He'd stood her up, holding her hands so she could take her first steps. Her first word was 'mama', which had broken his heart, but her second was 'daddy'. She looked like you more and more each day.

This wasn't the life he'd imagined when he held her for the first time. But it was his. Him and Kat against the world.

Setting his tools in their proper place, Billy's mind wandered to tonight. Kat was up at the house, being watched by the rancher's kind wife. He'd swing by and pick her up and ride on home to make dinner. Then maybe they'd go for a walk to the wildflower field. Kat loved to watch the butterflies.

Climbing the steps to the porch, he tipped his hat up when he saw the rancher sitting on the front rocking chair. He was holding a folded piece of paper in his hand, jaw set.

Billy greeted him, removing his hat. "Sir. Is everything alright?"

The man nodded, straightening in his chair. "Yes. Kat's okay. But..." There was a beat of silence, and then he stood up, holding out the paper. "This is for you."

Brow furrowing, Billy took it, confused. Was he in trouble? Had someone come to collect the bounty on his head that had expired years ago? Unfolding the paper, he had the start of his life when he saw the familiar handwriting.

Without taking in a word, his head snapped up, frantic eyes meeting the rancher's. "It's-"

"She approached me in town," he said grimly. "Is it-?"

Billy nodded, forcing himself to look down again. Every emotion possible drenched his heart as he began to take in each word.

Billy,

I know anything I say won't be enough, but I'd be more than grateful if you let me try to explain. I'm staying in the boarding house in town if you want to meet me there.

I'm sorry.

It wasn't real. Billy felt weak as he lowered the letter. There wasn't any way it was true. After a year of nothing, you'd come back to town for whatever reason and put his heart in the worst possible twist.

Heart pounding, Billy stuffed the letter into his pocket, adjusting his hat and looking back up at the rancher. "D'ya mind keepin' Kat-"

"Go ahead, son," the man insisted, clapping him on the shoulder. "My wife would keep her all day and night if she could. Just come on back when you can."

Billy's thank you was flustered and rushed as he hurried down the steps, bounding toward his horse. The adrenaline made the ride rushed, and he was in his head the whole time.

The idea that you were so close in proximity was eating at him. You hadn't left his mind for the entire time you'd been gone, and if it weren't for Kat he'd have convinced himself you weren't real. The memories were hazy, and he'd shoved them all aside up until now. The last time he saw you played over and over, the spark of your eyes nearly real to him.

He asked for you at the front, your name feeling strange and familiar all at once on his tongue. Gliding up to the room, Billy froze at the door, knuckles poised to knock. His heart was pounding, and suddenly he was regretting not going home to change first. He was still in his sweaty work clothes and probably smelled like a horse.

Taking a deep breath in, Billy knocked to the tune of his wrenching heart. Nerves bit him like mosquitos, and a part of him was still convinced that none of this was real at all. It couldn't be you behind that door. No, it must be some imposter, and the rancher had given the wrong man the note. Billy had decided to turn around and get back to Kat when the door swung open.

There wasn't any reaction to have other than stunned.

He'd been expecting you to look better than ever. After all, he thought you'd run away so you would be happy. But the sight that greeted him was anything but that.

The bruise on your cheek caught his eye first. Then a bigger one on your collarbone. Your dress was ripped in several places, and upon further inspection, it was one he recognized. You looked exhausted, and your hair was much longer and completely tangled. And he noticed with a pang how much weight you'd lost. Billy was willing to bet that if he pulled off your dress he'd be able to see every one of your ribs.

"Billy," you said softly. Oh, your voice. It was like finally hearing a song you'd been humming under your breath for weeks.

He could only get out a broken, "Baby-" before you took his arm and pulled him into the room, shutting the door.

Billy stumbled back, unable to tear his eyes away from you. He barely had the sense to remove his hat. A million new questions replaced the ones he'd wanted to ask before. But when you sat on the bed and he followed suit, all he could manage was, " Where have you been?"

You took in a breath, your voice calm. "Billy, I know this is a shock. I know you have things you want to ask and I have things I want to ask you too." When you brought a hand to your unbruised cheek, he saw a long scar across your fingers. "Can I tell you what happened first? And then you can ask anything you want."

When he nodded, you swallowed thickly. "Thank you." He hated the way you spoke. It was so far from the way he remembered you, as if all the life had been drained out.

You folded your arms around yourself. "I was with Kat the whole morning. She was being so good for me." The tiniest little smile appeared on your face, but it was marked by your sad eyes. "I'd finally gotten her to sleep and she was smiling in her sleep. It was so sweet." It was obvious this was something you'd thought about a lot.

"She still does that," he said quietly, and you nodded, biting the side of your cheek.

"Kat," you croaked, brushing a tear away. "Oh-" Now Billy was confused. Was this guilt? Was he about to hear about some epiphany you'd had?

"I heard a horse outside," you continued, your voice wavering the slightest bit. He could hear you trying to stay calm. "I thought it was you. I thought you'd forgotten something or come home early." You looked straight into his eyes, breaths growing shaky. "He came in and started yelling. He was asking where you were and I told him I didn't know. He woke Kat." The last part was said in a whisper.

Billy could only stare at you. This wasn't going the way he had thought it would.

"He pointed his gun at her," you said, and the flash in your eyes told him you were reliving it. "And he t-told me that if I didn't come with him he'd...he'd..." your lower lip wobbled, a telltale sign that you were about to cry.

Billy's old instincts with you were falling short. The inside of him was yelling at him to comfort you, to close the gap between you, but he couldn't. It was as if his body was glued to itself. And his eyes were stuck on you.

"Your ring," he managed. "You left your ring."

"So you wouldn't come after me." You turned away, refusing to meet his eyes anymore. "I knew he was taking me as bait, but maybe if you thought I'd left you..."

A hand covered his eyes, and he bent his head, dropping his hat. The past was reworking itself before his eyes, the truth throwing him into something he never thought he'd see. You were here, somehow, and there wasn't any doubt in his mind about the truth of your words.

For a year he'd tried to make everything make sense. How he could have possibly missed the signs when you were the only language he knew how to read, how you could have given up when things were hard with Kat when you'd never once given up on him. But knowing now what he knew, every wall and excuse he'd built cracked and crumbled.

Lifting his head, he found you looking at him again, the very picture of exhaustion. When he sat up, you winced, and his heart broke all over again.

"I couldn't risk you or Kat," you whispered, nails digging into your own wrist. "It would be better for you to hate me than be killed because of me."

"They held you all this time?" He finally managed to speak, voice scratchy. "Where?"

"Up north. There's a mine in the mountains." You traced the scar on your fingers. "They would have left me for dead after a month or so if they hadn't found another use for me."

"Another use-?" You lifted your eyes to him and he knew.

Billy stood up, pacing the length of the room and trying to get his thoughts in order. You remained on the bed, and he swore you'd never looked quite so small.

He'd expected to be angry. It had felt like a trick, the idea of you coming back so close to the day he'd lost you. The only anger he felt was not directed at the woman he'd been trying not to miss for a year. It was at the monster who'd taken you from him, made you feel like you had to choose between your life and his. He was angry you'd been scared; angry you'd been made to suffer. Closing his eyes, he stopped, standing still as it buried him alive.

"Billy," you said quietly. When he didn't turn around, you came to him, footsteps soft. He only opened his eyes when he felt your hands on his cheeks, soft despite all you'd been through.

Your eyes were haunting. He could see the lifetime of pain lingering, as if it had always been there. Billy lifted his hand, touching your scarred fingers. He kept his fingers light, watching your expression. You sighed, body seeming to slump, and that was when he pulled you into his arms.

The instant your head found his chest, he breathed out, nose dropping to your hair. It was a nostalgic trip. Billy felt his other half meld into him, become his once more. His girl. His love. As much as he hadn't wanted to admit it, the love he had for you had flickered like a dying candle, hidden away but still there.

"You're hurt," he whispered, and you shook your head.

"This is nothing." Billy fisted the shoulder of your dress, as if he could bring you closer. Your voice was muffled by his chest. "It was worse before. I'm okay."

"No." Billy shook his head, pulling back to look at you, but keeping his hands at your sides. "How did you get out?"

"They left me for dead," you confessed softly. "They took the horses. But as soon as they were gone, I started running. I don't even know how long it took me to get down here, but I remembered that town was straight south."

He imagined you sleeping shivering in the cold, living off the meager plants you were forced to eat, no gun to protect you. All this to get back to him.

"I would understand if you hated me," you said, looking up into his eyes. "That's what I wanted you to do. But I had to tell you the truth. And I'll leave tomorrow and never come back now that I've-"

"No." Billy cut you off, cupping your cheek. He looked you over again, the feel of you grounding him. "I don't...I couldn't..." he took in a shaky breath. "I don't hate you and I don't want you to leave."

You were nearly trembling. Billy sat back on the bed, pulling you down with him. He smoothed your hair behind your ears, and you leaned into his touch. "You were protectin' us." He thumbed your bruise lightly, heart aching when you closed your eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't come after you. I should've-" Tears were rising in his throat. "I wish I'd have tried to find you."

"He would have hurt you," you sniffled, breathing in and holding his wrist. "You and Kat were safe. That's all I care about."

"But he hurt you." Billy's tone was sharp, and when you flinched he softened it. "I ought to find him and make sure he pays. Treating a woman like that. My girl-" He cut himself off when he saw the first tear on your cheek, and you were back in his arms when the second fell. His nose found your hair once more. "You came back to me."

"There'll never be a time when I don't try to come back to you," you mumbled into his chest. Billy kissed the top of your head, overwhelmed by the feeling of having you again. His wife, his love, practically back from the dead.

You'd pushed through every horror to find him again. What rattled him was that you'd thought there was a chance he'd turn you away after learning what had really happened. And yet you'd found him anyways. Any doubts he'd had about your love for him faded into nothingness, his hidden flame becoming a wildfire.

"I love you," he whispered into your hair. "I never stopped loving you."

"I love you." You clung to his shoulders, as if you'd been holding back before. "It killed me to make you believe that I didn't."

He leaned down to kiss your forehead, your cheek, your nose, realizing everything he'd missed all at once. You held yourself to him, breathing in and out slowly, reclaiming the safety he so badly wanted to give you again.

"Is Kat okay?" you murmured, eyes shut as he smoothed your hair, rubbing his thumb over that special spot you loved.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he said softly, stroking your back. "She's good. Misses her mama, though."

You hummed sadly, holding his wrist tighter. "I've missed her."

"We'll see her soon," he promised, shifting to lean back, holding you to his chest still. "Just let me have you a little longer."

Holding you was a haze of remembering. Whatever woman he'd been imagining since the day you were taken couldn't be less real to him. There was only you, the girl he'd always known, the girl he'd fallen in love with. Everything that had happened only heightened his protection.

"You're allowed to be even a little bit mad at me," you said softly, body snug against his.

Billy's eyes were shut, his arm wound around your waist. He felt at peace, finally back where he was happiest. Your head on his shoulder, your hand held to his chest between his fingers. He was stroking your scar again.

He didn't bother to open his eyes. "I'm not." Billy let his hand at your waist fall to the covers, tugging the end to wrap around your body. "Not even a little bit."

"Maybe you should be." He cracked one eye open. You were angelic in his arms, even with the bruises and scrapes marring you. If he had it his way you'd be put in a bubble of sunshine and wildflowers and love for the rest of your life.

Billy leaned down to kiss your hair. "No. How could I?" He lightly scratched your back, shifting you to be a little more comfortable on his chest.

"I left you," you said softly.

"You protected our daughter," he corrected, stroking your hair. "If I was gonna be mad about anything it'd be about you not giving me the chance to come find you." Billy nosed your temple, lips pressing there. "I could've saved you baby." He touched the bruise on your cheek again, blood starting to boil as he thought of everything you'd been subjected to while he was home trying to forget.

You shook your head, resting your head back on his chest. "It's all over now, Billy. It's okay."

It wasn't okay. He wanted to protest, bring up the proof of your hurt, both within and outside. But you looked so tired, and he knew there'd be plenty of time to dissect it all later. There wasn't any way he was letting you out of his sight again.

So he nodded, smoothing the folded covers over you again. The conversation was far from over, but he wanted you to get some rest more than he wanted to argue. When you closed your eyes, he smiled softly.

Billy wasn't so naive to think that having you back would fix everything. He knew you were hurting, the road to recovery long and winding. But you were strong. You had found your way home and you were all his again, safe and loved in the shelter of his arms. He'd reunite you with Kat in the morning.

Little steps. He'd thought he'd lost you until an hour ago.

Right now, this was enough.

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid x you #william h bonney x reader #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid fluff #billy the kid fic #william h bonney fanfiction #william h bonney imagine #william h bonney x you #billy bonney x reader #billy bonney #billy the kid mgm #billy the kid tom blyth #milliesfishes billy #Spotify

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live-love-be-unique · 1 year ago

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For the lovely @deadbranch 💕 This was inspired by the 50 word challenge and felt too good not to expand on a little more!

Price Gave You An Order

Your teammates could only stand and watch in horror as the helicopter you were piloting was hit in the tail rotor and went into a tailspin before crashing into the cliff face. Price had called in the air strike, they were cornered and needed immediate cover if they were going to make it out alive. He’d expected one of the other pilots to show up. You’d answered the call as soon as Laswell had called it in.

You’d managed to evade a number of enemy attacks but one had taken a lucky shot and it had nailed you. Your helicopter, which you’d named Boudica after the famous warrior queen who took on the Romans, was destroyed on impact.

Just as the team believed you had been.

Your dejected teammates were safe, the explosion of your helicopter took out the remaining enemy but at a great cost. Price stood, his body felt like cement; he’d just watched you die when this morning you’d been discussing dinner plans.

Ghost had to physically drag him from going into the burning wreckage to search for your body “no!” He shouted “I’m not leaving her!” As he tried to run towards the burning wreckage.

Soap had heard it first. Movement in the scrub behind them. He grunted, raising his gun, preparing for a new onslaught of bullets. “You’re alive?!” Soap cried out incredulously. The rest of the 141 turn to see you; stumbling out of the scrub, still strapped into your parachute, struggling to make your way towards them as it snagged on a branch. You’d managed to ditch right before you hit the cliff.

Soap and Gaz clapped you on the shoulder, cheering “that was badass bonnie!” and “so sick!”, even Ghost offered a “nice job” for your actions. Price stood off to the side, stock stil, watching with a grim look on his face before turning at the sound of another helicopter approaching your position for evac.

Not a word from Price the whole flight back to your makeshift base either as you made small talk with your teammates and the pilot.

Landing, you were immediately dragged into a briefing. For the loss of your helicopter the mission had been successful, the enemies base destroyed, congratulatory praises were passed around the room before Price rounded on you, glaring daggers into your eyes.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!”

“I was doing my job!”

“I gave you an order!” Price bellowed as your teammates cleared the room, not wanting to be in the firing line when mum and dad were fighting.

“I followed it!” You shouted back. A deep sigh passed his lips as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“I’m not talking about the mission” he conceded “I told you to come back to me alive…I almost lost you” he said, his hand coming to rest on your cheek, thumb stroking against your warm skin.

Leaning into his touch. His hand moved to the back of your head as he brought you against his warm broad chest. “I need you love, I can’t do this without you anymore” his voice cracked as he held you close.

“John” you sigh “I wasn’t going to leave you there, if anyone was going to bring you home it was going to be me”

Price leaned his forehead against yours “stubborn bird” he smirked.

“Grumpy old man” you laugh “plus you owe me a new helicopter”

His chest rumbled against your cheek as he laughed “I’ll see what I can do”

#john price x reader #price imagine #captain john price x reader #cod price #captain john price #john price #cod mw #cod modern warfare

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elliespeach · 2 years ago

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play nice | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"i'm not incompetent, despite what you may think." ´ˎ˗

pairing: ellie x afab reader synopsis: ellie and you hated one another more than anything and you had successfully avoided each other for nearly two years before being forced to patrol together. the day you two endured happened to be a lot more than just patrol and despite hating your guts, ellie is determined to keep you safe. warnings: lowkey mean!ellie, scary men, ellie n reader defend themselves w guns (animal death), lots of swearing, being chased, being stranded in remote location wordcount: 6k+ author note: guysssss i love the fuck out of this trope i hope i did it justice, got a bit carried away w the wordcount but i like it that way cus i dont think this will be a series!

the early morning of the jackson crowd woke you yet again, groggy and hungover you squirmed out of bed. you were supposed to be off today, taking the day to rest and recover from last night but maria had other plans for you. she had asked if you could pick up a patrol shift, a route no one likes taking, for a guy no one really likes anyway. you said yeah because you owe maria a favor, hating yourself for allowing your one day off to be tarnished.

grumpy, you threw on your usual patrol outfit. a heavy jacket, a sweater underneath, jeans and a trusty pair of boots. the clock read only thirty minutes before you were to be posted and figured you would stop on the way to grab breakfast.

you gave sleepy hellos to your neighbors as you passed. a lot of them shoveling their sidewalks from the snow that blanketed the earth the night before, they would be doing it all day and suddenly you were that upset about patrol duty. it beats shoveling snow.

entering the restaurant the smell of bacon and eggs filled your nose, making your stomach lurch in your body. the hangover really settling in, you almost opted to not get food. but you saw maria at the end of the counter, leaning over and chatting with the line cook.

“mornin’ maria,” you plastered on the best smile you could muster at the moment. “who am i with today? i didn’t check the schedule.”

maria’s face faltered, “so that’s why you said yes,” you looked at her confused. “you can’t back out on me now.”

“maria, what’re you talking about?” you questioned, but with the expression on her face, you came to a realization that your day was about to get a whole lot worse. “i’m not going if she is.”

she sighed your name, “you girls were friendly once, you can’t play nice for one day?”

“ellie can’t play nice.” you stated as a fact. and it was.

ellie and you had a complicated history, arriving in jackson only a few days after she did, you two had become an inseparable pair. what wasn’t obvious to everyone else at the time was that you both had feelings for one another despite being young teenagers.

one day, in her garage, ellie and you had been listening to music together while she drew in her sketchbook. you had been watching her the whole time, admiring how talented she was. at this point in time, you knew she liked you as much as you did her–or at least you thought you did. when you tried to kiss her that day, she freaked out on you and pushed you off her bed in a hurry.

you had felt betrayed by the only person in jackson you truly trusted with anything. you never spoke of it again, in fact you never really spoke to her again about anything. you two became distant, avoiding each other at all costs because when you were in close proximity you’d fight like cats and dogs. you couldn’t hold in your snide remarks and neither could she, but when she spoke her mind it was always more cruel than you could ever imagine.

you hated ellie williams and now you are expected to be on a full-day patrol with her. you couldn’t even begin to imagine the kind of day you were about to have, regretting any and all decisions that led to this moment.

“so you play nice. i won’t ask you to work with her again after today, promise.” maria begged and you rolled your eyes accepting her offer.

you said your goodbyes and maria handed you two sandwiches to go, hoping that a sandwich will fix the multiple years of hatred burning inside of ellie for you. knowing it wouldn’t work but not wanting to waste food, you obliged by taking the food and going on your way.

your walk was slow to the stables, wanting to prolong the long day ahead of you. when you reached your destination you saw ellie at the end of the barn. she was patting her horse, shimmer, and readying her for the trip. “fuck,” you whispered to yourself before making your way over.

as you approached her, ellie went stiff and turned her back. not you.

“maria got us these sandwiches,” you said plainly, holding out one of them to her. her eyes were dull, along with her expression and it made your blood boil. “well?” you asked, already impatient with her.

“ate already.” ellie responded quickly before grabbing the reins on shimmer and leading her out of the barn.

you silently mouthed, “wow.” to yourself before packing the food in your backpack for later. taking your horse from his pen, you lead him in the same direction as ellie. you came upon the gate and mounted your horse before pulling beside ellie, stealing a quick look at her.

ellie darted her eyes away from you quickly as she saw your head turn towards her, feeling a hatred burning in her chest and she thought she saw you roll your eyes in her peripheral vision. you’d never admit this, barely admitting it to yourself, but despite all the loathing you felt for her you still found yourself attracted to her all these years later. it sucks that she is a bitch, otherwise maybe you two would have been something.

the usual spiel of being safe, record keeping and more was being announced but ellie’s voice carried its way over to you. “do you even know where we’re going?”

you scoffed, “i’m not incompetent, despite what you may think.”

she turned her head towards you, a fake smile splayed across her face. “i don’t think, i know.”

“oh, fuck you, williams.” you spat at her, looking back towards the gate, not wanting to remember she’s right next to you.

but she was, in all her rudeness. “don’t you wish,” she said casually in a mocking tone. you had to stop your mouth from dropping open at her comment. she knew exactly what she was saying to you, and it just confirmed that there is no fixing this relationship if she could make a comment that low.

the alarms went off and the horses started to ride out of jackson. you followed suit, leading your horse out of the gate and turning right down the snow covered path. ellie followed behind you at a distance and you liked it that way.

ellie was watching you from behind, steering your horse through the pathway. for some reason, she couldn’t pull her eyes off of you the entire trip to the first look-out. her mind plagued her with thoughts of you and she dared not to trespass into that territory again. coming up on the familiar look-out, she pushed the thoughts away and replaced them with the hurtful things you’ve said to her over the years which did little to comfort her either.

“just wait, i’ll mark the book.” you said, dismounting your horse and heading into the small building. you had always figured it was a radio tower as a giant broken satellite was perched on the roof, slamming open the garage door you made your way inside.

“i’ll come with, don’t need you fuckin’ up the book.” ellie remarked behind you and you rolled your eyes as she passed you, just having to be the first one to the log book and she was. she beat you to the pen and began writing that there was no infected in the area.

as ellie finished writing, she searched around the room for you. you were standing by the window, eyes peeking into the binoculars overlooking the route you two were going to be taking.

“lemme look,” she insisted, reaching up to snatch them from your hand. you pulled it away quickly, swatting her hand.

“i’m fucking capable of looking through these things.” you nearly yelled.

“you’re not even wearing your glasses, give it to me.” she growled beside you, again reaching for the binoculars as you held them away from her.

“how kind of you to notice,” you said sarcastically, gently pushing her away from you.

“you look better with them on, princess.” she hissed using the nickname she had given you years ago. it felt strange to hear it again, especially in such a negative way. ellie eventually gives up on taking the binoculars from you. you started to peer through them again, making out your path as she huffed beside you. she was acting bored, fake kicking the debris that littered the floor, leaning her back against the window staring into the room behind you.

looking away from the view for a split second, catching her eyes you retorted, “you look better without them on, figured i’d at least try and have a good day.” a devilish smile washed over your face and ellie didn’t respond. you brought the binoculars back up to your eyes and they widened with fright.

from your viewpoint you were able to see multiple men all on horseback and guns at their side, they weren’t jackson men as you would have recognized them immediately. they had blood stained clothes and looked like they haven’t showered in weeks. but the most disturbing thing you saw was a person, naked and shaking in the cold tied by their neck to one of the horses, being pulled along. this wasn’t a group to be stumbled upon by and they were right smack in the middle of your route about two miles from you both, getting closer to jackson with every step. “oh, fuck me..” you trailed off and ellie chuckled beside you.

“like i said, you wis–”

“ellie, look!” you hissed, shoving the binoculars in her hand but she wouldn’t take them.

“no, apparently i can’t handle it or something!” she shoved them back in your hands.

“ellie, would you just look while i radio the other patrols?” you basically begged and ellie heard the fear in your voice. knowing you would never let her see you this way, she sat up straight taking the binoculars from you. she watched as you ran to the table with the log book, getting your radio ready.

she peered through them and saw what you did and ellie’s demeanor changed swiftly. she turned back to look at you, panicking because the radio wasn’t transmitting. “fuck, this stupid thing!” you yelled, banging it against your hands so hard you thought you might leave a bruise.

ellie acted fast, throwing the log book into a damaged closet to leave no trace and picking up her backpack. “if we can’t get a signal here, we gotta move to where we can get one. the closest patrol is ten miles in the other direction, we can beat them there, they aren’t going fast.”

she glanced at you, ready to move and you were frozen still trying to get the radio to work. she rounded on you and stopped yourself from breaking your own hand with the radio. “we have to move, okay? they won’t touch you, i promise.”

her promise seemed sincere and in the moment you didn’t question it. you nodded your head and took a deep breath before she handed you her bag. you both sprinted to your horses, but not before ellie closed the garage with a loud thud. getting on horseback, ellie led the way, weaving in and out of trees staying off the path so as to not cause suspicion with the tracks in the snow.

you followed suit, not letting her gain more than a few yards on you at a time. after about ten minutes of what seemed like endless trees you came upon an opening to a road. you didn’t recognize it, and as you came up beside ellie it looked like she didn’t either. you looked around desperately, fearing the men you had seen and what would happen to you both if they found you.

“nothing on the radio?” she asked you, pulling her horse near you.

“no, nothing.” you stated shakily, fiddling with the small radio.

“shit,” she cursed aloud, but not loud enough for anyone else but you to hear. “c’mon, this way.” she led you down the road and as you came over a small hill a building came into the picture, a large building that looked like an old grocery store.

as you were about to pull the radio from your back pocket, ellie and you both snapped your necks in the direction you had just come from. there was the distant sound of hooves, even in the snow and laughing that wasn’t the good kind. “they found our trail, in the building, now!” she snapped at you quietly and not seeing any other idea, you followed her. leading your horses into an empty window in the building and securing them in a locked office.

the building was ransacked, absolutely nothing in sight but garbage and dead infected bodies. “if there is dead infected, this area must get patrolled,” ellie thought out loud, looking at the mangled bodies.

“or they found it before we did,” you did the same, stepping over a dead infected woman. horses neighing outside brought you to a halt and ellie didn’t think twice about grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of view. shuffling past large empty boxes and even more dead infected there was a door labeled exit and ellie busted it open, shoving you inside before her. as she closed the door behind her, she heard glass breaking and men’s voices.

you looked around in the small hallway, it was dark but you were able to see a small dim light peeking through a knocked over bookcase at the end. “ellie,” you whispered, pointing to the bookcase. quietly moving towards it, you started to lift up the bookcase revealing a large storage room with loading docks. placing the bookcase back down to block the entrance as quiet as you could.

she nodded her head towards the loading doors, they were closed but not locked. you were about to lift them up for an escape when the exit door burst open and all that stood in between them and you two was the bookcase. you snapped your head in that direction and ellie grasped your arm, pulling you behind a large shipping crate.

in good timing because as soon as you were secure the bookcase fell over with a loud bang that made you jump. you looked to ellie, who was trying to peek around the crate to catch a look. ellie saw three men stumble into the large room, guns and various other weapons on their belts. “come on out now!” one bellowed, causing you to grab ellie’s arm instinctively and she let you, not pulling it away in the slightest.

ellie saw them looking around corners when one approached the loading doors, seeing it unlocked. “must’ve slipped out,” the brute snarled, fiddling with the door handle.”grab their horses, let’s go get their trail!” they triumphed, slowly leaving through the door they came in. the rest of their crew must be waiting out front, ellie knew this was your only chance.

once the cost was clear ellie turned to you, “they’ll expect us to go through the back, let’s go back the way we came.” she whispered, taking her arm back. you nodded and followed her, she quickly moved past the bookcase and towards the door they had left wide open. seeing no one, and not hearing your horses she waved you on, exiting the grocery store through the broken window in which you had entered.

coming back into the daylight their horse tracks went to the back of the building and you both took this opportunity to run into the trees on the opposite side of the deserted road. as you jumped into the snowy landscape, a horse neighed furiously. “hey! i see ‘em!” a grunty voice shouted and you and ellie took off running through the woods. you were following ellie, who was hoping this was the correct way back. but back where? where could she take you on foot they wouldn’t be able to catch up? the nearest patrol is miles out, but when you two didn’t show up for check in they would come looking. that could be hours before they find you, stumbling through the cold woods and ellie worried that you two wouldn’t make it through the night if you could get away from these guys.

she pushed all of that away, focusing on the task at hand which was to get you away from them. you ran for a while, the woods came to life with sound, the horses behind you trying to bob and weave through the harsh trees, the heavy breathing of you and ellie crashing into the soft snow below you and the sinister sound of the men laughing as they narrowed down on you two.

“keep running!” ellie shouted back to you as you passed her, she stopped reaching for her rifle and cocking it back. you didn’t listen, instead taking your pistol out at the same time. ellie was able to shoot down one of the men who had tried to flank them, his body tumbling down to the ground and his blood desecrating the pure white snow.

focusing your vision as ellie reloaded her gun, you shot quickly. the bullet grazing one of the brutes in the cheek and he clutched his cheek as he barreled down on ellie–whose gun was jammed. you shot again, this time aiming for the horse’s legs and it went down before you could blink, hurdling the giant into a tree. he laid on the ground motionless as his buddies grew more angry, you grabbed ellie’s arm and she looked up to you with panicked eyes, slinging her forward in front of you she began running but not before checking that you were right behind her.

hoping that the bodies of their friends would slow them down, you both sprinted away from the grizzly scene. ellie was in front of you, the tussle with them discombobulated her and she wasn’t sure what direction she was going in. everything was happening too fast for her to be able to stop and figure it out, and as she looked back to check on you and the proximity of her attackers she saw your eyes widen and as you screamed her name, she fell down an embankment.

you didn’t think twice, knowing this would be a good barrier between you and your pursuers. ellie was already halfway down as you threw yourself down the steep hill, the trees spun around you and you couldn’t see anything. you could make out ellie as you tumbled, rolling uncontrollably and it seemed even faster than you were. it felt like years before you came to a stop at the bottom of the hill.

you groaned, lifting your head up and not seeing anyone following you. you put all your effort into sitting up and you clutched your side as you did. you cursed, your bag was missing, probably buried in snow somewhere and as you looked around you saw ellie. she was laying next to a tree, limp and moaning in pain. in a panic you tried to stand up but the pain in your side prevented you from moving even two steps so you crawled to her. “ellie!” you shouted, coming to her side. “ellie, are you okay?” you yelled again, shaking her lightly. looking back up the embankment, you didn’t see the men anymore and hoped they went to clean up their friends.

as your eyes came back to ellie, she rolled over and in between big breaths she was able to get out, “hit.. the fuckin…tree.” she groaned, grasping at her limp arm. “fuck..my arm!”

“c’mon, williams we gotta go,” you stated, looking around for her backpack since yours was nowhere in sight. you noticed it a few feet away and you used the tree to force yourself up, ellie saw you struggling and tried to get up on her own so you wouldn’t have to help her in your condition. taking her pack and slinging it on your shoulders you went back to her, she was leaning against the tree now, facing the embankment.

you reached out your hand to her and you couldn’t read her face as she took it with her good arm, pulling herself up with a huff. your side screamed in pain as you trudged on, taking in short breaths even though you could barely breathe to begin with. ellie limped behind you, her limp arm at her side and every step she winced in pain. fully realizing you two were lost in the woods, you kept going in hopes of seeing jackson at some point.

the men didn’t make any appearances and the further you walked the more you felt safe. the fresh snowfall that started was covering your tracks in the deep snow. walking in silence felt like the right thing to do, the adrenaline wearing off would mean bickering again and you liked the quiet sounds of the forest, and the occasional grunt from ellie behind you. the sun was nearly behind the mountains before ellie spotted a small hunting cabin to the left of your makeshift path.

it was dainty, and probably only one room but as you both approached it, it was looking more and more inviting than the harshness of the cold you two had been enduring the last couple of hours. knocking on the door roughly and not hearing anything inside, you opened the wooden front door. it was small. the abandoned shelter was illuminated by the setting sun through the windows, you saw a fireplace that had more spider-webs than you’d ever seen. the “kitchen” immediately next to it consisted of a broken and ransacked fridge, a sink and only two cabinets.

you smacked ellie’s pack down on the counter, and finally felt a smidge of peace. looking up and noticing there was no living room area in the single room, just a creaky wooden bed that ellie had sat down on still clutching her arm. you looked around and saw a wooden chair, smashed to pieces you shuffled over, taking as many as you could carry before tossing them into the empty fireplace. ellie watched as you did, wishing she could be more help but her arm was killing her and she worried it was more than just a break.

she saw you wince as you bent down to pick up more wood and she had to look away, not being able to see you hurt for some reason. “we should splint your arm,” you suggested, tossing more wood into the fireplace but keeping a smaller, thicker stick in your hands. ellie just nodded and let you approach her and as you went to unzip her jacket she flinched back. “i can’t do it with your jacket on.” you snapped, your shitty mood pouring out onto her.

she softened her face and unzipped her own jacket but needed your help taking it off completely. as you were slowly pulling it off her bad arm, she sighed deeply. her arm was revealed, having only worn a short sleeve under her jacket and you wondered how she wasn’t frozen solid by now. “jesus, els.” you breathed out as you looked upon her arm. it was black and blue all over, some spots were a bright yellow and you held back from gagging. the redness from being cold didn’t help make it look better either.

“i’m fine,” she lied, not liking you taking care of her. “just make the fire first, would you?”

not surprised with her attitude, you obliged because you were even still freezing. the sun was barely shining in the windows anymore and you knelt beside the wood and picked a few of the smaller pieces of wood. taking your knife, you whittled off sections, leaving them attached at the bottom to the main piece of wood to work as tinder. and as you worked, ellie watched. she admired your survival skills, remembering that this is what kept you alive before jackson.

ellie and you knew more about each other than you’d ever admit. being as close as you two were for months, you often had long talks in her garage to distract yourselves from the mutual lingering feeling of longing for one another. but as she observed you working, she remained silent and you did too, feeling her eyes burning into your back.

the fire bursted to life with flames and you backed away, feeding it more kindling from the broken chair. ellie felt the warmth from the bed and now that she wasn’t numb from being cold, her arm was feeling worse. she didn’t dare look down at it, you turned to see her struggling to find comfort. you took off your jacket, the cozy cabin becoming warmer with every second that passed. tearing at the bottom of your shirt got her attention, you ripped until you had a long enough strip to work with.

taking the wooden piece that you are using as a splint you kneeled in front of her. “give me your arm,” you said, your hand hovering in front of her. she shuffled her body forward, inches from you and you gently stretched her arm out straight. her moans in pain were loud over the crackling fire, “i know, i know,” you comforted her and her groans stopped but were replaced with quick and short breaths.

you aligned the wood with her arm, taking your ripped shirt fabric and started to wrap it around her arm. moans escaped her mouth, not being able to conceal how badly this hurt. “almost done…” you trailed as you tied a knot in the fabric to keep it in place.

once you were finished, and ellie was about as bandaged up as she could be, you sat with your back against the bed. wincing as you did, your side still burning in pain that seemed to spread throughout your body. “lemme see,” ellie murmured, shifting off of the bed to sit next to you on the floor. you grumbled a small i’m fine like she had but she didn’t accept it. “let me see.” she said more sternly.

you rolled your eyes, lifting up the side of your shirt where the pain is erupting from. she examined it, the bruising on your stomach was prominent and she grazed her fingers over your hot skin. you winced from her touch, her fingers cold on the burning black and blue. “told you, i’m fine.” you reinforced, pulling your shirt back down.

“i promised you they wouldn’t touch you,” she whispered beside you, you heard the familiar aggression in her voice as it’s usually directed at you but this time it didn’t feel like it was.

“they technically didn’t.” you recalled, staring into the fire. but ellie was gazing at you, her green eyes scanning the side of your blank face.

“i should’ve seen the hill,” she shook her head, focusing her eyes on the fire like you were. “i told you they wouldn’t hurt you and now look. i swear to god if they ever show their face around jackson i’ll–” her voice turned sour and she stopped herself from revealing what she would do to them for causing you pain, and although you didn’t blame her for anything that happened today, you couldn’t help but feel angry with her and her sudden caring attitude.

scoffing, you spoke, “i’ve been hurt worse than this.” ellie understood what you were implying and snapped her head back to you, hurt swimming in her eyes.

“what is that supposed to mean?” she hissed back at you, her voice rising slightly. she knew exactly what it meant but couldn’t stop herself from getting defensive.

you laughed in disbelief, “the way you’ve been treating me for years? does that not ring a fuckin’ bell?” your voice rising to meet hers.

“you’ve been doing the same thing to me, so don’t act innocent.” her tone was sharp but calm and you hated her for her ability to keep her composure.

“i never said i was innocent!” your blood boiling over, you looked at her, her eyes meeting yours before she darted them away. “if you hate me, hate me. don’t confuse me by acting like you fuckin’ care.”

“i don’t fuckin’ care,” she spat, using her good arm to lift herself off of the ground. she did care. and it was obvious to you, but instead of arguing about it further you let her walk to the kitchen as she dug in her pack.

you remained silent in front of the fire and despite the pain you brought your knees to your chest for extra warmth, the cold disposition of your patrol partner sucking out any warmth the fire was giving to you. ellie tossed over a small ration pack of food harshly, and you reached to take it. not caring that she threw it at you because now that you were looking at it, you were starving. realizing you hadn’t eaten this morning like you intended to.

ellie moved back near the fire, sitting in front of you but staring into the wall. it was quiet while you both ate, or better inhaled the food in front of you. “i was supposed to have the day off today,” you remarked, chuckling at the circumstances though not finding it entirely funny. “i shoulda just told maria to fuck off.”

ellie turned to you looking confused. “wait, maria asked you to do this?” you nodded in response and she shook her head smirking, “she asked me last night if i could cover for–”

“manny,” you both said at the same time. realizing maria had set you both up, and you both couldn’t help but not laugh about it.

“she’s gonna feel so bad!” you laughed, and somehow it was the funniest thing in the world to the both of you in that moment. ellie was laughing harder than you had ever seen her and you realized how deeply you missed this side of her, and how long it had been since you did. was it shock? maybe, probably. but even ellie couldn’t help but enjoy the small moment after the day you two had.

“she probably thinks we killed each other!” ellie added mid laughing, causing you two to remain that way for a little while longer. it really wasn’t funny, but in some fucked up way it was. after you both calmed down from the singular good moment you had had in years, ellie added, “i missed that.”

“missed what?” you questioned, not wanting the moment to end.

“your laugh,” she uttered, boring her green eyes into yours. “i know that’s not fair of me to say.”

this was the ellie you remembered, before all the fighting she was always kind to you. she was thoughtful. and she cared about you more than anyone you met in jackson. she patiently waited for your response, trying to judge if you were still angry. “i think we’ve both said things to each other we shouldn’t have, els.” she hid a smile at your response, forcing her eyes to the fire that illuminated the small room. after a small beat of comfortable silence, she turned back to you.

“i really am sorry,” she spoke again and you cut her off before she could continue.

“it’s okay, really–��

“no i mean– i shouldn’t have– we almost died today. you almost died and i just…” she trailed off, gathering her thoughts. “i wanted to kiss you that day too.”

you looked at her perplexed, and as you opened your mouth to respond she talked again. “it’s complicated and i was just scared–”

“scared of what, ellie?” you questioned her again.

she lifted up her good arm, revealing her tattoo. bringing your eyes back to hers and she took note of your confusion. she shuffled over and sat beside you showing you her arm up close. “just look,”

at first, all you noticed was the tattoo. the ink perfectly etched into her skin, but as you really looked at it you noticed small indents buried in an intricate part of the linework. you took her arm in your hands to examine it further. bite marks. they were old, but they were there beneath the tattoo, permanently altering her skin with a nasty scar. “what the fuck…” you whispered skeptically, tracing it over with your fingers.

“i was fourteen, so don’t worry i think i would have been dead by now.” she joked, hoping to alleviate any negative feelings you had about this. she sat nervously next to you and if you weren’t holding her arm she feared she would be shaking.

“what does this have to do with me?” you asked innocently, taking your eyes away from her arm but not letting go.

“i thought if we had kissed that i’d infect you somehow,” she laughed thinking of the memory. “i really shoved you off the bed hard, huh?”

“my ass was bruised for weeks, so yeah you did.” you laughed with her back and it felt like the last couple of years hadn’t happened.

“awww, poor princess,” she mocked you playfully. it almost threw you off, being as she hasn’t been playful in forever but you rejoiced in it.

“shut up!” you played back, throwing her arm out of your hands and back into her lap. ellie noticed how close you two were, closer than when you splinted her arm, and it made her feel safe. she brought her hand back up to your face slowly and you let her, she swept strands of hair behind your ear. “you’re not scared now, though?” you pressed on, catching onto her intentions.

“oh, i’m terrified.” ellie spoke softly, inches from your face. she cupped your cheek in her hand and gazed at you lovingly, her eyes darting from your eyes to your lips. she felt her stomach doing flips as she leaned in to close the final stretch that separated you two, as she did, hard knocks pounding at the door pulled you apart from each other.

the door opened, revealing a disheveled joel and tommy. “thank god!” joel exclaimed, entering the cabin. “we saw the smoke, you guys are five miles off the normal route. what the hell happened?”

they helped you both home and to see the medics and it was nearly a day later when you saw ellie again. you endured what felt like thousands of visits from friends and neighbors that wanted to wish you a good recovery, and they were sorry to hear what happened. you were put on bed rest for a few broken ribs and they all hurt severely anytime you moved.

but when ellie came through your bedroom door, you shot up in bed ignoring the pain that was plaguing you. she filled you in on what’s been going on, rangers are out looking for the group of men that attacked you both and they think they have a good lead on the group. this comforted you, but not nearly as much as ellie’s presence. she had a fresh cast on her arm, and ellie pointed out that it was really itchy, making you laugh.

“maria feels really bad,” she smirked, a small laugh escaping her lips. “but she’s gloating about her plan working.”

“course she is,” you answered. she moved across your room and sat down on the side of your bed to face you, looking down to your hands and took them in hers. “we might have to put on a show for her, can’t have her head gettin’ too big.”

“anything you wanna do princess,” she leaned down and kissed your forehead. “but first, rest.”

you groaned, “i hate you.”

“i hate you more, now c’mon lay down.” she gently pushed you back down into the bed and you scooted over leaving room for her. she snuggled up next to you as you laid your head on her chest, hearing her soothing heartbeat as she played with your hair and you both fell asleep peacefully. feeling nothing but safe with one another.

#ellie williams #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #the last of us part 2 #ellie williams fic #ellie x fem reader

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k-nayee · 3 months ago

Text

Dusk Till Dawn JJK

wc: 2.5k a/n: Song Inspiration: Dusk Till Dawn by ZAYN; recommend you listen while reading!!

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

Your chest heaved as you sprinted alongside Yuji, the chaos of Shibuya shaking the building around you.

The sound of curses and distant screams was muted, the only thing driving you forward being the desperate pounding of your heart.

Every step you took was filled with the nauseating fear of being too late.

And then you saw it.

Nanami.

Your heart stopped, dread freezing your veins.

There just a few feet ahead, you spotted him—his tall figure slumped, his once-immaculate suit burned and tattered.

Mahito's grotesque hand rested against his back, and in that instant, the world around you seemed to fall away.

The battle—the roars of curses, shouts of sorcerers, crashing debris—all of it became drowned out by the thundering pulse in your ears.

“Kento!” you screamed, voice cracking with desperation as your body surged forward.

But it was too far. You were too far.

His gaze shifted from Yuji, and for a fraction of a second, his weary eyes found yours.

Time slowed.

No—it wasn't just your imagination. Your cursed technique activated, a reaction so instinctive and desperate, that you barely registered it happening.

The world around you stilled even more as if caught in a slow-motion reel.

It was your family’s technique, passed down through generations: Temporal Shift; allowing you to manipulate time enough to switch places with someone in the midst of an attack—taking their place, absorbing the blow.

You could feel the familiar tug of your cursed energy rippling through your veins, gathering strength as it coiled, ready to launch you forward.

You could save him. You could—

Tears welled in your eyes. You couldn’t breathe, the weight of the moment crashing down on you.

Even shaken your resolve remained steadfast, though you weren’t sure if it was from determination or the sheer hopelessness of the situation.

Nanami's eyes widened in horror, the shock clear on his face as the cursed energy around him seemed to flicker.

He knew what you were about to do. But there was no time to protest.

No time for words.

Your lips pulled into a trembling, broken smile. There was no need for goodbyes. This was your choice.

You had always been willing to protect him—no matter the cost.

And so, with a soft breath, you whispered the word that sealed your fate.

“Switch.”

Chin up and shoulders squared, you saunter toward Nanami and Haibara’s table.

“Oh Nanami-kun~” you call his name, and for a split second you thought you saw him tense.

You put on your best shy expression, shifting your weight from foot to foot and batting your lashes.

He looks up with a blank expression blank.

“I was wondering if you’d um...help me study for the upcoming test?” you ask, your voice softer than usual, practically dripping with sweetness.

Nanami blinked at you, clearly not expecting the request. But before he could answer you heard a loud whisper from behind you.

“Why is she acting like this?!” Gojo practically hissed, loud enough for the entire room to hear. “She never asks us for help like that!”

“Yeah, she’s never this cute when she’s begging us for anything,” Geto chimed in, voice equally obnoxious.

Your eye twitched, fists balling up at your sides.

“You two are ruining my chance!” spinning around, you land two solid punches on both of their heads with a satisfying thud.

“Ow!” Gojo whined, rubbing the side of his head with an exaggerated pout. “What was that for?!”

“We were just trying to help,” Geto added, wincing slightly as his grin remained in place.

You glared at them both. “You two never get this treatment because you don’t deserve it!” you snapped before turning back to Nanami.

Clearing your throat you give your most charming smile. “So would you help me? Please?”

He blinked at you, expression still impassive. “No.”

“Well that was disappointing.” You sigh deeply as your shoulders slump in defeat. Quickly shrugging it off with a playful pout, you wave a hand at Gojo and Geto. “Let’s go losers.”

Gojo raised a finger ready to protest. "Actually we wanted to stay—"

You didn’t let him finish.

With a swift move you grabbed him by the collar, dragging him out of his seat, ignoring his indignant squawks of protest as you choked him slightly in the process. “Nope. You’re coming with me.”

Geto quickly raised his hands in surrender and followed after you with a laugh smile. “No complaints from me, I’m good.”

You pause at the door, glancing back at Nanami one last time. “I’ll try again when you’re in a better mood Nanami~”

You flash him a weak smile before looking over at Haibara, who had been silently observing the whole ordeal. “Oh, and hey Haibara! Sorry I didn’t say hi earlier.”

Haibara just smiled, waving your apology away with a casual gesture. “Don’t worry about it. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your budding relationship anyway.”

Both you and Nanami froze.

Heat rushed to your face as Nanami’s head snapped toward Haibara. “What are you—”

“Wait—really?!” You practically shouted, heart leaping in your chest as you stepped forward. “He talks about me?!”

Haibara, realizing his mistake, stammered nervously under Nanami’s murderous gaze. “Uh I mean—well—n-not exactly! I might have been mistaken! Haha, I don’t know what I’m talking about...”

But it was too late. The damage had been done. You were already too far gone, completely starry-eyed and grinning from ear to ear.

Practically floating on air, you offer a faint farewell as you continue to drag Gojo, still ignoring his pleas for mercy as he weakly flail to escape your grip.

“Now why do you let her do that?” Geto mused with a raised eyebrow as the Limitless Curse user struggled in vain. “You could just turn on Infinity.”

“Because she’d just hit me harder,” Gojo whined as you tugged him through the door.

You paid them no mind, your thoughts too consumed with Haibara’s words.

Nanami talked about you. Even if it was just a small passing comment, it was enough to keep your heart racing for the rest of the day.

You were so going to try again later.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The mission had seemed simple at first—just another exorcism in a quiet town far removed from the chaos of Tokyo.

It had been long and tiring, but it seems the curse that had been terrorizing the area was finally dealt with.

You, Nanami, and Haibara stood amidst the rubble of what had once been a bustling street.

Now all that remained was to clean up. Though your mind was already on other things.

You had your phone pressed to your ear, chatting with Gojo about the snack run you two had planned after the mission. “No no trust me, Gojo. They have the best dorayaki in the area. You just need to—”

“Focus,” Nanami’s stern voice cut through your conversation. He gave you a withering glance, his usual look of disapproval that came whenever you let your guard down.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Oh come on Nami-kun. We already took care of the curse. Why so serious?”

He didn’t answer but his brow furrowed, the tension in his shoulders unrelenting.

Typical Nanami—always so on edge, never allowing himself even a moment of ease.

You give him a playful glance, but before you could say anything else something flickered in your peripheral vision.

Your face contorted in a flash of confusion, then fear. Your instincts screamed and a cold sweat broke across your skin.

Haibara noticed the shift in your expression first. “Hey what’s—”

You didn’t even have time to finish your sentence before the Grade 1 curse ambushed.

It came out of nowhere, its grotesque form twisting in the shadows, lunging at Haibara with deadly intent.

His brown eyes widened in shock, too slow to react as the curse’s blow landed upside his head with a sickening slash, knocking him down with a thud.

“Haibara!” Nanami yelled in panic.

Your heart lurched as you saw the curse’s next attack winding up, its malevolent energy aimed straight at the fallen sorcerer.

There wasn’t time to think—only time to act.

"Switch!" you shouted, your cursed technique roaring to life.

In an instant you felt the familiar pull of energy shift between you and Haibara.

The world seemed to blur for a heartbeat, and then the curse’s attack struck you instead.

The force of the blow hit your side, white-hot pain searing through your body as you absorbed the impact.

You collapsed, the wind knocked out of you, but at least Haibara was out of danger.

"Dammit!" Nanami’s curse technique activated in a flash, slicing clean through the air as he moved to exorcise the curse.

His strikes were shar and precise, fueled by barely restrained fury as he tore into the creature.

Haibara, regaining his balance, joined him, and together they finished off the curse.

You lay on the ground, clutching your side where blood oozed from the gash.

“Are you okay?!” Haibara rushed over to you, his voice trembling with panic.

His face was pale and you could see the terror in his brown eyes—terror that, if it weren’t for your intervention, he would have been the one lying in your place.

Nanami appeared at your other side, his face set in a hard line, though his hands shook slightly as he reached out to check your wound.

“I’m fine,” you muttered through gritted teeth, wincing as they tried to help you up.

“Fine?” Nanami’s voice was low, but there was an edge to it that made you falter. “You call this fine?”

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

Back in the infirmary, the antiseptic smell hung in the air as Shoko patched you up before leaving to tend others.

You were sore but relatively lucky—your cursed technique had softened the blow, though the pain still pulsed dully through your body.

Haibara sat at a chair nearby, his face still pale as he absentmindedly touched the new scar that ran along his jawline.

Nanami remained standing with an unreadable expression.

Gojo and Geto had stopped by to check on you earlier, their usual banter lightening the mood as Gojo teased you about how reckless you always were.

“What luck you have,” he’d said grinning, “being able to switch places like that. Almost unfair.”

They’d left soon after, leaving just you, Nanami, and Haibara.

Suddenly He spoke, voice soft and shaky. “Today was...a wake-up call.”

You look up in confusion. “Haibara?”

He glanced between you and Nanami, his lips pressing into a tight line before he exhaled deeply.

“If ____ hadn’t been there, I would’ve...” His voice cracked and he swallowed. “I’m stepping away from the Jujutsu world.”

The weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. Haibara was always the cheerful one, the one who saw the good in things.

For him to step away...it was serious.

Haibara stood slowly, walking over to your bedside with his head low.

When he finally lifted his gaze to meet yours his eyes were filled with unshed tears.

He give a deep bow, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you...for saving me. I owe you my life.”

You wave off his gratitude, trying to play it cool despite the lump forming in your throat. “You don’t owe me anything. Just...don’t forget about us okay?”

Haibara’s expression softened, and to your surprise, he bent down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

The gesture was affectionate, almost like a farewell. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Nanami may seem cold... but he’s a softy. Talks about you a lot.”

You blink in shock as heat rushed to your face. Haibara gave you a pointed look, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You tried to hold back a grin but it was impossible.

Chuckling softly, he turns to Nanami, offering a firm handshake and a brief hug.

With one last nod Haibara left, leaving you and Nanami in the quiet of the infirmary.

For a long moment neither you nor Nanami said a word. The silence between you was heavy.

You absentmindedly pick at the blanket on your lap, trying to think of something—anything, to break the tension.

“So...” You forced a weird smile. “Nice weather we’ve been having this week huh?”

Nanami’s eyes darkened.

"How could you be so...so irresponsible?" His voice was low, trembling with barely-contained anger.

Your smile faltered. "Wait...what?"

Nanami’s fists clenched at his sides as he took a step closer, his brows furrowed.

"You weren’t even supposed to be on that mission in the first place. You—" His voice strained as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "You put yourself in danger. You could have—"

You sat up, your frown deepening. "It was a good thing I was there. Everything turned out fine didn’t it? Plus if I hadn’t bee—”

“What if you died?!” He cut you off, his frustration boiling over as he stared at you with wide teary eyes.

You fell silent, mouth half-open, the words dying in your throat.

“What if you didn’t make it in time? What if Haibara died? Or you?” His usually neat hair was disheveled as if he was barely holding it together.

Nanami took a shaky breath, his gaze dropping to the floor as he continued. “I—I wouldn’t have been able to...”

The room seemed to still, his words hanging in the air like a weight pressing down on your chest.

You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t realized just how deeply it had affected him.

Without thinking you reach out and grab his hand, your fingers intertwining with his.

He look at you in shock, his wide hazel eyes filled with vulnerability.

Before he could say anything your other hand gently cradle his face as you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips.

When you pulled away, his face was a deep shade of red, his lips trembling in disbelief.

“Stop worrying so much Nami-kun,” you offer him a gentle smile and tilt your head playfully. “You’ll never be alone. I’m right here babes.”

With a wink, you lift his hand and wrap your pinky around his. "From dusk till dawn yeah?"

Nanami’s breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at you.

Slowly, his hand tightened around yours, eyes softening as the tension began to melt away.

"Yeah," he whispered. "From dusk till dawn."

One second you were standing several feet away, your feet skidding on the rubble-strewn ground, and the next—

You were there.

In his place.

Mahito's hand was now on you, the twisted grin on the curse's face shifting as he blinked in mild surprise.

The sickening energy from his Idle Transfiguration seeped into your skin, and in that split second, you felt the inevitability of it all.

No your eyes were still on Nanami, who stood frozen where you had been just moments before.

But you didn’t look at Mahito.

Burns of his half-obliterated body was nothing compared to the raw horror that filled his chest now.

The world was moving again—too fast, too harsh—and yet you held on to this fleeting moment to simply smile.

For him, you’d smile one last time.

And then—pain.

“Well...that was the wrong person,” Mahito mused, his grin widening. He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with mock innocence. “Oops. Oh well.”

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spicypepperflakesss · 2 months ago

Text

💚 Post-Route Muriel | My Muriel Masterlist

theme: How To Comfort A Loved One

Muriel x GN!MC | CW: none

It's My Turn!

You had never seen Inanna act out before. But when you forget to do a beloved activity that brings you both together, you find Muriel pushed off to the floor and the defiant wolf in his place in the tiny floor mattress you three share

--------

Last night was the most fun you've ever had.

You and Muriel stumble through the front door of his hut. Your arm is slinged around his neck as he supports your weight with his.

You remember his laughs tickling your neck while you defend your sobriety with words slurring every other word.

Muriel carried on into the house, unconvinced.

"Hm, one thing's for sure," his careful whisper is loud in your ear, "Julian is formidable drinker."

The words summon a wave of nausea. You recall the dare. The excitement when you sat down. The regret when Julian swigged his tenth drink with ease. The relief when that man finally slumped against the table an hour later.

"Ugh." is all you manage to say.

You won. But at what cost?

Muriel shakes his head with a laugh. With his forehead against yours, it feels more like a nuzzle. You lean into his touch. His warmth is a balm to your aching head.

"Here, let's get you to bed soon."

Then, he snaps his thumbs. The fireplace fwooms to life. Its warm glow is kind to your eyes. You can see everything once again. Including the shadow stretching out to your feet. There's a sillhouette of one menacing wolf blocking the front of the fireplace, but you can only see the glow of her golden eyes through her shadow-veiled face.

She lowers her head. Is she.. glaring at you? Though she's shorter than both of you, you get the feeling that her golden eyes are staring you down.

"Whorf."

"Out with friends." Muriel says, "Why?"

Inanna lets out a snort that puffs in her chest. Her gaze moves from Muriel to you. She is unimpressed.

Muriel moves to the bed. He is gentle to lower you to the mattress on the floor. You can't help the sigh of relief at the moment your bum touches the mattress. Its softness invites your bones to relax. And you do. A happy hum falls from your lips as you lie down and sink into it. Finally, you can rest.

"Oh."

The crackling of the fireplace quiets your mind. You hear the chirping of crickets. A hoot of an owl. The hushed conversation between Muriel and Inanna. Your eyes begin to grow heavy as the forest's orchestra lulls you to sleep.

"She must've forgot." Muriel says, his volume lowered just enough that you can barely hear, "I'm sure she didn't mean it."

A whine. And stomp of a paw. Your eyes have fallen shut. Your mind is falling away into the depths of slumber.

"Awwour...."

A silent beat passes.

"Then, tell her in the morning." Muriel says, his tone is kind, "I'm sure she'll tell you why."

------------

My mind stirs to the sound of soft snores and chirping birds.

Where am I? I make a move to toss and turn when the ache in my muscles pinch me awake.

'Ow.'

What the hell? I let out a frustrated sigh.

I just want to go back to sleep. Instead, I force my eyes open to see what the problem is.

The room is dark. The dying embers in the hearth tell me that the flames must have died sometime in the night. I'm on the hard, cold floor.

I deadpan at myself. Well, no wonder why my body is aching.

I move to open my mouth, but a putrid smell attacks my nose. Eugh. I move my hand to smell my breath against it. Meat... Sugar... Alcohol? Had I been drinking?

A furry sillhouette lies on the bed, chest heaving up and down in slow rhythm. It's Inanna. But something is different.

She's sleeping on the side of the bed closest to the floor, which is my side. That's strange. She usually hogs the whole bed by sleeping in the middle.

I peer up to see the rest of the bed behind her sleeping figure.

Everything stops when my eyes catch a glimpse of you. You stir from sleep and turn to face my side of the bed.

Your hair is as disheveled as a rat's nest. Your chest heaves and sinks as you remain in a dreamful sleep.

My heart softens at your adorable face. How cute. You look so calm. So... content. I catch your irises shifting udner your eyelids. And you sigh. I wonder what you're dreaming about?

Then, with eyes still closed, your arm reaches out before you. You hand finds its way to Inanna's fur, and your head follows its lead as your fingers burrow in her fluffiness. Then you bury your head in her fur. You take a deep inhale, and deflate with a contented sigh.

"Muri, Honey." you croak into her fur, "What time is it?"

My mouth twists with a laugh building in my throat, but I bite it back.

Oh well. So much for a blissful morning.

Inanna gets up, without any care that your limpy body plops back into the bed, face first.

An exhale escapes my nose as I smile. You must be so tired after last night.

Inanna inches towards your face and snorts a strong exhale into your face, sending your tiny hairs flying.

"Haawr." She huffs again.

(Wake up time.)

You jolt up. Your bleary eyes adjust to the dark room for a beat. I have to chew my bottom lip as I watch you peer up and look about the room. Its no different than watching a lost scraggly kitten looking for its mother.

"Oh, hi Inanna." You lie back down next to her, "Sorry I thought you were Muriel."

"Hmmff!" Inanna makes a show of turning her back to you.

(Always Muriel!)

I deadpan at her. What does she mean by that?

I lie back down and pretend I'm asleep. There's no way I'm getting caught in that.

But I keep my face hidden away, just enough to watch things unfold.

"Aw, what's wrong, my darling? What's got you in a bad mood today?"

Tiny gusts of wind blows over to my skin as something swishes against the mattress. I smile.

'Darling'. Even if she's mad at you, you always somehow get her tail wagging.

Inanna lets out a yowling yawn. Then snorts again. She lets out a chesty, sniffling exhale. As if she were about to cry.

"Hhmf."

(Nothing. It's not like you forgot anything.)

"Hm? Oh Nana. So upset."

You move in closer, even as she inches away from you, and you catch her in a comforting embrace.

"What's wrong, my baby girl? What's got my baby so upset?"

Her tail wags speed up. Is she... Does she like being called that?

I squeeze further into my hiding spot. I feel like I'm a part of a conversation I shouldn't be hearing. Still...

I clamp my hand over my smile. I'm definitely teasing her about this later.

Inanna lets out another crying snort.

(Always with Muriel!)

She snorts again. Then licks her nose.

(Never my turn.)

I deadpan at her direction. What's that supposed to mean?

Then, I hear you gasp.

"Oh! Nana." you soften at her. You bury yourself deeper into her fur.

"I'm sorry, baby. I forgot your story time."

"Awrf."

(That's right.)

"And your mad at me because I forgot, when I promised you I would, huh."

Inanna sniffles. But her tail wags faster.

(Ywes. You pwomised.)

She lets out a big snort again. Then turns to you, her brows pushed together in her glare at you.

(BUT YOU FORGOT!)

"Harmf."

(Now I'm angy. No talk.)

"Aww I'm so sorry. I actually was going to read to you last night. I was going to wake up after a short nap. But I guess it really got to me. Sorry, Nana."

"Hmff!!"

She inches away again.

"I know, that's my fault."

You both are silent for a moment.

Or so I thought. I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of you, and I see the devious smile growing on your lips as a plan forms in your mind.

"Okay, Nana, how bout this?" you say, "What if you have me the whole day?"

Inanna snorts.

(Not listening.)

"It's my fault for forgetting. So what if I take the day off and we go to the market together?"

Her ear swivels to you, but she remains resolute in "not listening".

"Theeen~" your words take on a sing-sing tone, "We can buy that bear broth crisps that I know you've been keeping your eye on."

Then, her tail starts wagging.

"Aaand, we can go to that doggy day care spa that just opened in the other district--

Her tail limps.

"So that we can go back home and I can give us both a home spa after a round of hunting."

Her tail wags come back with a vengeance, beating again the mattress like a drum. Her body twists into a cresent shape, her head craning so far back that her golden, eager eyes are behold you in excited anticipation.

"We will also be hunting squirels."

Her tail is wagging so fast she's kicking up the floor dust as everytime it beats against the bed.

She snorts.

(And?)

"I'll cook us dinner."

Inanna leans forward with anticipation.

"It'll be roasted rabbit with that sweet potato puree you like."

The two black pools that make up her irises swell and glitter at you with affection. Then, out if nowhere, she stops. Her wagging tail halts mid-air and her breathing freezes.

She's waiting for you. Waiting for one last thing before going in for the final pounce.

I catch you bite your lip. There's a smile trying to break through your expression. As if opening your mouth would release the laugh in your throat and betray the poker face you've maintained thus far.

And it does.

"A-And!!" you clear out the laugh in your throat,

"I'll read you a bedtime story."

"RWAFF RWAFF!"

(YAYYYYY!!)

I smile at the sound. For a moment, you brought out the happy, bright pup that she used to be many years ago.

I had no idea she enjoyed being pampered this much. Maybe I should've been more affectionate with her, too.

You really have a way of bringing out the best in people.

She slams her big fluffy frame against you. No matter how careful she is about it, it send you both tumbling. The laugh you've been stifling breaks through. You're giggling as her big fluffy butt wiggles against you and she covers your face in slobbery kisses.

Sometimes Inanna forgets that she's not a pup anymore. She tries to fit her whole massive frame in your embrace. You wheeze when the full force of her hind legs rests on your ribs. Ouch.

I open my mouth to tell her off, but you return her affections with your arms around her in a tight embrace, inching your body to the side so she doesn't crush you completely. You rub her back affectionately

"I love you, Nana." you mumble into her fur, "I'm really sorry. I never want you to feel neglected."

You pull back to give her a warm smile. But with the previous night of carousing and drinking, it comes off as more tired than you'd like.

Inanna whines and her ears droop at you, sensing this as well.

(I-its okay. I was just kidding)

She regards you with big, sad eyes. A mix of worry and guilt shining in them.

(I don't really need all that. I'm okay if you just want to rest together today. That's all I konda want, y'know?)

You snort, amused at her expressions.

"I know. I'm sorry again, Nana."

You reach out and wrap her in your arms once more.

"We're gonna have the best day today, I promise."

Inanna stiffens. Her golden eyes dart around, a little lost with your response, before the deflated in defeat. That's not what she meant.

My heart breaks for her a little. She forgot that you can't actually hear her.

"Oo, y'know if Muriel's already out, then maybe we can go to my place and freshen up there. And then we can have a nice breakfast before we head to the market, yeah?"

And just like that, her worries melt away and her tail is wagging again. As you lay out your plans, she peers up at you with patient, loving eyes.

I sigh in relief. Looks like the worst part if over.

"Okay, wanna go now? Maybe if we have enough time for today, we can soak in the hot springs--"

The bed shifts. I'm caught off guard when your head juts forward and you catch my eyes open before I get to close them shut.

"M-Muriel?! Have you been there this whole time?"

"...No."

I peek through my closed eyes. And you're in full view of me, staring me down with your hands on your hips.

"Muriel..."

"Mmmff." I turn away from your pointed gaze.

"Not my fault I ended up here." I mumble, "And you guys were arguing so..."

"Well yeah." you say in a softer voice than I did. I almost couldn't make it out if I didn't read your lips, a skill I learned sometime ago because I couldn't hear someone sometimes.

.... Just like what I'm doing now.

A small heat burns my cheeks. Gods, you're so...

If this morning was different--

"And Inanna."

She flinches at her name. Her head droops in apology as she avoids your gaze too.

"Did you... push him out of bed?"

Inanna shakes her head.

You stare her down, unconvinced.

Then she nods. And deflates in further guilt.

You sigh. "Geez guys, what am I going to do with you both?"

Just as Inanna thinks it's all over, you shake your head with a chuckle and beckon her to follow you.

"Alright, come on, Nana. Let's go. We gotta add a new bed to the list too."

"W-What?!"

"Yes." You deadpan at me, "No more having difficulty sleeping or being forced to sleep on the floor, okay?"

"But--"

"Nuh uh. I'm not hearing any of it." You say, "Let's go, Nana. We got a lot to do today!"

And just like that, you're out through the front door, waiting for Nana to finish up before you both leave for the day.

Inanna needs no time to get ready. But I follow her to the front door to send her off.

"Gods..." I sigh. I scratch the back of my head.

"I should really lay her back for everything at this point."

"Whorf." Inanna looks up at me.

(Sorry. For kicking you off.)

"Hm." I chuckle, "Maybe... It wouldn't be so bad to be able to fit all of us into bed."

Inanna continues to stare at me, guilt behind the big, sad golden orbs of hers.

I guess that's not what she meant.

But I have an idea of what she might mean.

I pet her fluffy head without a hint of spite or resentment. After all, it's always more than that. I don't think I want to be mad at her for something like this.

"It's alright, Nana. Really" I say, "You go have fun, okay?"

It is a joy to see her ears perk up and her mouth in an open smile. There's a spark in her eyes that hadn't been there in a long time since I first met her.

I smile back at that warmth.

"Rawrf!"

(Okay!)

And just like that, she's off. Running to your side as you both walk and talk. Your silhouettes grow small with the distance as you both are on your way back to the shop.

----------- check out my other Muriel stuff!:

My Muriel Masterlist

#vesuvia weekly #comfort the li #the arcana #the arcana brainrot #the arcana headcanons #muriel of the kokhuri #the arcana muriel kohkuri #muriel headcanons #muriel kokhuri #the arcana muriel #the arcana oc #muriel x reader #muriel x mc #muriel the hermit #muriel the arcana #muriel x apprentice #pepperflakesss #pepper-writes-muriel

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mr2swap · 2 years ago

Text

Exchange Gift: The Magic Coin

I got into the hot car and with a small jump I left my butt in the passenger seat, I took the wet towel with the sweat of my "older brother", I wiped the sweat from my armpits, the smell of the towel permeated the entire car, but we are used even to each other's sweat.

Immediately, I noticed the smile of my "older brother" who was next to me, impatient to compare the size of our biceps, he flexed his colossal arm in front of me just to show off the size of the triceps that were originally mine.

-WOW! I can't believe how fast those arms have grown! All my friends are going to be so jealous when I go back to school in January! -

I'm glad to know that my brother was enjoying my "gift" but I was even more glad that it didn't cost me a single penny, like every year my family exchanged Christmas gifts.

And The One this year was Kevin, My annoying little brother, Normally I would have bought him something like a video game or something I could play with, but this year I had spent too much money on my ex-girlfriend, That bitch squeezed every penny out of me until my wallet was totally empty. And all for what in the end I will find her in the bed of a campus idiot…

Whatever. I was broke, depressed, AND still owed my chubby 15-year-old brother his little Christmas present. When I was at the mall looking for some gift no bigger than $5 I came across a Shiny coin lying on the floor I probably couldn't buy my brother a video game this year, but I was sure he would love this coin, he's a total nerd, and he loves to collect these kinds of things for his Dungeons and Dragons game.

I wanted to give him his gift a couple of days before Christmas, and privately I didn't want my family to be mad at me for breaking the rule with the price of the gift, and when I gave it to him, he didn't seem too happy with his new coin his disappointment was very noticeable on his face. So I promised him that I would take him to the gym with me to help him with those extra kilos so that he would stop being teased at school for being overweight.

As soon as I told him that, his expression totally changed, we didn't use to spend a lot of time together and when he came home from the gym at the university he always begged for some attention from his older brother. Well, now we are inseparable.

The moment I handed him the coin, our hands touched. A strange sensation from the coin ran through our bodies. I couldn't move or take my hands off the coin, no matter how hard I tried, my muscular arms didn't react. Nor the rest of my body for what seemed to me 5 long minutes.

Without warning the strange sensation disappeared and me and my brother were pushed backwards, the strange coin fell to the floor making a metallic sound.

As soon as I opened my eyes I knew something was wrong with me, my body was totally different, my muscles were gone and instead of my fantastic six-pack I now had a little slice, my tanned skin from afternoon jogging in the sun was replaced by pale smooth skin, my long hairy legs were now short and hairless.

Before I panicked, I looked up and was speechless. In front of me was a giant flexing his huge arms, tensing his muscles trying to imitate the positions that I usually do in front of the mirror for my Instagram photos.

-Is that… my body?-

The words escaped from my mouth and caught the attention of the person occupying my body, he took me by the arms and got up as if I were a baby.

-THANK YOU VERY MUCH, BRO! THIS IS THE BEST GIFT EVER, THIS IS FUCKING GREAT! LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT YOU! I AM YOU!-

He was playing with me like I was a doll, he abused his new strength, and he flipped me in the air. From this new perspective the ground looked really far from my new position, I was terrified. And although a couple of Tears came out of my eyes as I tried to escape from his strong hands, He didn't stop until the fear escaped me in the form of urine.

I had pissed in my pants, by the time my brother noticed I got down slowly, and I ran away from him as fast as my little legs could, I ran to the bathroom to release the rest of the urine that was fighting to escape from my little developing penis.

-Hey… I think, I got too excited…- His voice I recorded filtered through the wooden door while the sound of my urine in the toilet sounded at the same time, when I finished peeing I looked at the huge urine stain that was on my shorts, There were even some drops on my T-shirt

I undressed, stepped into the shower and let the hot shower wash away the mess in my crotch, The soothing sound of hot water and the sound of her apologies merged into a loud song, for a minute I had forgotten that I was in the body of my little brother.

Furthermore, I took the soap to deep clean my brother's body and I could tell the difference between his body and mine, for me. It was so strange to see myself and that none of my muscles were defined in my skin, I flexed one of my arms and all I got was to see the small hanging fish that my brother's classmates made fun of so much.

When I got out of the shower I took my towel instead of the towel with Spider-Man cartoon patterns and completely dried my brother's body, when I finished I rolled it around my belly to hide my new fishnet and left the bathroom.

My brother was still by the door, but the Emotion on his face had faded, -I... I'm sorry, I didn't want to... - He didn't finish his sentence, he seemed to have understood that he had hurt me, he just extended his arm and showed the coin He gently took my arm and slowly put it in my hand.

The exchange was reversed immediately, this time much faster than the previous time, and before I realized it I was no longer wearing a towel but a tank top and tight shorts.

Thank God, this was a back and forth exchange. I was relieved to be back in my body, but this little experience changed me completely. Since then me and my brother have been swapping bodies throughout our vacations, I think I've been spending more time in his body than mine, meh it's not like I have anything better to do.

I even kept my promise to take him to the gym, I let my brother use my body to work out, so he would have more self-confidence and succeed, maybe I did too well, He doesn't hesitate to flex his muscles in front of any stranger's face to stare at him for more than 5 minutes, he is still too innocent to know that all they want is to take him to bed.

But no one would ever try anything on him “intimidating gym bouncer”, and while he has fun impressing a bunch of perverted fagots, I would see to it that my brother will never feel the way he made me feel again even if I had to ”personally”

Hey folks! if you like bodyswap stories take a look at my patreon, I have a lot of more stories, and you can help me keep creating more stories!

#body swap #male body swap #bodyswap #body switch #male transformation

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idkfitememate · 1 year ago

Note

I NEED A CONTINUATION OF GOLDEN WEASEL!

Mountain Shaper Encounter

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Weasel Reader x Old Man & Mountain Shaper

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 729

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : fluff, more found family

As you sat wrapped around The Old Man’s neck, you watched as the scenery of Liyue passed you both by.

No one stared, looked, or even glanced at him, you guess it was noticeably pissing you off, because he began to gently scratch under your chin. You leaned into the gentle touch, making him chuckle.

The hand he wasn’t using to pet you was gripped around a cane, a basket hanging off his arm as well. Compared to rest of Liyue, he was dressed in extremely traditional clothing, his hair was tied into a traditional top knot with a beautiful guan. He also had a nice little beard. With his looks, you honestly wondered how old the man was, because on top of his… well his beauty, his home - despite it being a house boat - was also decked out in traditional furnishings and decor.

The only accessory you had was an earring made of mora with a dragon modeled after Morax attached to the bottom - it was a hanging earring. When you found out your old man had spent ONE HUNDRED MORA ON IT, you scolded him for an hour. Him kneeling as you stood on your hind legs loudly chittering at him.

The only reasons you wore it was because:

A. He bought it as a thank you for staying by his side, even in old age.

And

B. The damn thing cost a hundred mora why the fuck wouldn’t you

And finally

C. It helped differentiate you from other weasel thieves.

As you continued down the lanes, his little basket began to fill up, though its weight never seemed to bother him. You’d often chirp at him to see if you could carry it - you were strong for a weasel - but he’d just shake off your concerns with another chuckle.

And as you continued, you began to feel sleep with the gently sway of his body slowly walking along the paths, and probably would’ve too, if it weren’t for the fact that he stopped to speak with someone. Wait no that’s red and black bird.

… wait a minute.

“Mountain Shaper, my friend. Why do you walk among the mortals this fine day? To what do we owe the pleasure?” Did you mention The Old Man spoke super fucking eloquently? Because he does.

“Nothing but a stroll. And why are you here, old friend?” Wait Old Man knew an Adeptus? Old friend? What the hell-

“Ah, simply retrieving some items from the merchants. Nothing more. And as much as I’d adore to stay and chat, I must be off, so as to make me and my little friend here’s daily afternoon tea time, hehe!” You noticed that the Adeptus’s eyes were now on you, but only with a hint of curiosity.

“I see… well don’t let me take up more of your time.” The bird mused.

“Well actually… I believe we may have space for one more, if you’d care to join.” You looked around to see if anyone else was seeing this shit, but it seemed like no one else was around.

“Well if you’d allow me…” And with that, you were now walking with an Adeptus towards The Old Man’s houseboat. Feeling a bit bold, you stuck a paw out in the direction of the bird. All he did was glance at you, before chuckling. You smacked your lips before settling down on Old Man’s neck.

Your mind drifted as you thought of what tea he would make today… maybe Mountain Shaper would have something new in mind… perhaps a story awaited you as well… you yawned and closed your eyes, pressing your face into into the crook of your neck.

“You feel it as well, don’t you my friend.” Mountain Shaper asked.

“I do.” The Old Man responded.

“Will you ever tell them-“

“Only when the time is right.” The Old Man interrupted. “Now, they just want to live, and I will allow them that freedom. I have no right to strip that from them.”

“You sound like the God of Freedom.” The bird chuckled, making the Man sigh.

“Be quiet before I tie your beak shut.”

“*GASP* You wouldn’t dare!”

“I may not be as nimble as I was back then, but you and I both know you’d have no chance, especially if I actually tried.~”

“WHY YOU-“

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Uh oh, Old Man had a secret, what ever will it be?~ Anyway, Weasel really just wants to live life. And since we’re doing some past stuff now, I imagine they were a petty thief in their past life, which is why they became a little thieving guy in Genshin ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა!

#anon <3 #asks <3 #Golden Weasel!Creator

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coochiequeens · 2 years ago

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Doctors and nurses who are not willing to listen to their patients should be replaced

BY VICTORIA SMITH

The third time I went into labour, I was determined to avoid getting told off. With both of my previous births, I had somehow managed to get things wrong. My errors the first time: going to hospital too early, then, when I returned three hours later, “leaving it so late”. The second time: ignoring assurances that I didn’t need to come in yet, then giving birth in the car park — an event I later discovered was being used in antenatal classes as an example of women “not planning ahead”.

“My previous births have been fast,” I said, when I went into labour with my third, “so I’d like to come in now.” I was speaking to the woman at the midwife-led unit that is the only option where I live. (If you need a caesarean section, you have to be transferred to next town.) “Third babies are notoriously difficult,” was her response.

What an odd thing to say to a woman already in labour. The “notoriously” suggested it wasn’t based on any actual evidence, but rather a kind of folk wisdom. It felt as though I was being warned not to tempt fate, not to assume that this baby would just pop out. I saw myself being categorised as one of those arrogant women who presumes to know her own body, only to be taught a harsh yet much-deserved lesson. “Third babies are notoriously difficult” sounded not unlike “third-time mothers shouldn’t get above themselves”.

In fact, I have never been particularly cocky about childbirth. When I was pregnant with my first child, back in the days when the Right-wing press were still obsessed with famous women being “too posh to push”, I wondered if I might be able to get an elective caesarean myself. I did not particularly care about childbirth being a wonderful experience, or about “doing it well”. I didn’t care if the Daily Mail thought I was a joke.

What I cared about was not having a child who would face the same difficulties as my brother, who was starved of oxygen at birth. This has had serious consequences for him, and for the rest of my family. Just how serious is hard to gauge. He was born traumatised; there has never been a before to compare the after with. What there has been instead is the hazy outline of an alternative life, one that runs parallel to the one he has now. It’s a life that began with the problem being identified sooner, with him being delivered quickly, perhaps by emergency caesarean. The difference between this and his actual life comes down to something small: mere moments, mere breaths.

I was born three years after my brother, in a larger hospital, where my mother was induced and monitored carefully. There is something very strange about being the sibling who had the safe birth. It feels as though I stole it. There is a constant sense of guilt, as if my life — my independence, my choices — constitutes a form of gloating. “This is what you could have had.” Everything I do feels like something owed to my brother (do it, because he can’t) but also something taken from him (you shouldn’t have done that, because he should have done it first).

Still, my family were fortunate, insofar as my brother didn’t die. Current reports on the Nottingham maternity scandal reference 1,700 cases, with an estimated 201 mothers and babies who might have survived had they received better care. What strikes me, reading them, is the enormous gulf between the cost of a disastrous birth and the trivial, opportunistic way in which childbirth is so often politicised — with mothers themselves viewed as morally, if not practically, to blame if anything goes wrong.

As a feminist who concerns herself with how the female body is demonised, my interest in debates about birthing choices is more than personal. I have read books railing against the over-medicalisation of childbirth, aligning it with a patriarchal need to appropriate female reproductive power. I have also read books protesting the fetishisation of “natural” birth, suggesting that it infantilises women, that it implies women deserve pain. To be honest, I find both arguments persuasive and dismaying. Both are right about the way in which misogyny and professional arrogance can shift the focus away from meeting the needs of women and babies. I feel a kind of rage that we are told to pick a side.

Representations of the labouring woman are so often negative: the naïve idealist, the “birthzilla“, the birth-plan obsessive, the woman who is “too posh to push”. This latter stereotype has gone hand-in-hand with a veneration of vaginal births, and stigmatisation of caesareans, that has had sometimes disastrous consequences. Midwives at the centre of the Furness General Hospital scandal were reported to have “pursued natural birth ‘at any cost’”, referring to one another as “the musketeers”; at least 11 babies and one mother died. But their approach was sanctioned by their employer: the 2006 NHS document “Pathways to Success: a self-improvement toolkit” explicitly suggested that “maternity units applying best practice to the management of pregnancy, labour and birth will achieve a [caesarean section] rate consistently below 20% and will have aspirations to reduce that rate to 15%”. Proposed benefits to this included “a sense of pride in units”.

Responses to maternity scandals now express horror that such an anti-intervention culture ever arose — responses in the same press that denigrated women such as Victoria Beckham and Kate Winslet for not giving birth vaginally. Instead, newspapers now stoke outrage over “natural” treatments during NHS births, such as burning herbs. Women have been shamed for having caesareans, but they have also been shamed for wanting births with minimum intervention — as though they are selfish and spoilt for seeking control over such an extreme situation.

In his memoir This Is Going To Hurt, former doctor Adam Kay writes disparagingly of women who arrive at the delivery suite with birth plans:

“‘Having a birth plan’ always strikes me as akin to having a ‘what I want the weather to be’ plan or a ‘winning the lottery’ plan. Two centuries of obstetricians have found no way of predicting the course of a labour, but a certain denomination of floaty-dressed mother seems to think she can manage it easily.”

Wanting to have some control over your experience of labour — which will hurt you and could kill you or your baby — is not akin to some messianic aspiration to control the weather. And in his mockery of the woman who wants whale song and aromatherapy oils, ironically, Kay deploys the same silencing techniques that might intimidate a woman out of seeking the very interventions he so prizes. What he and others do not seem to grasp is that their arrogance is a problem, regardless of which course of action they champion. It makes women feel they can’t speak, for fear of inviting hostility at their most vulnerable moments. It’s true that none of us knows our body well enough to know how we will give birth. But, looking back, I find it utterly insane, not least given my own family history, that one of my biggest worries during labour was “please don’t let anyone get cross with me”. Then again, I don’t think that fear is unrelated to the desire to remain safe.

Birth is not a joke. It is not a place for professional dick-swinging or political one-upmanship. I cannot describe — and, as I am not my mother, cannot fully understand — the shame of feeling that you “let down” your child before they drew their first breath, that they will forever suffer because of it. You watch an entire life unfolding and that feeling is there, every single day. This is the fear of the women in labour who are characterised as either idiots mesmerised by fantasy homebirths or cold-hearted posh ladies who can’t take the pain. If things go wrong, they are the ones who will bear the consequences, reflecting every day on what might have been, if they’d only done more.

When people discuss their siblings, my mind does wander to the one I don’t have, the one who was born safely. Perhaps he would have a job he loved, or one he hated, but in any case a job. Perhaps he would have a partner. Perhaps he would have children, and I would be their aunt. Perhaps we wouldn’t get on, wouldn’t even speak, but he’d have a life of his own. I know he thinks about this too. I wonder if the professionals who presided over his birth have thought about him since.

My third labour was not, by the way, “notoriously difficult”. My third son arrived into the world safe and well. No one can say why him or me, and not my brother. Mothers may long for control over birth, for which we are mocked; but we do not have it, for which we are blamed. Politics still takes precedence over our needs, and the needs of our babies.

#Traumatic births #Doctors not listening to women #There's no such thing as a birthzilla #Women aren't too posh to push #Doctors are so posh they schedule cesareans to accommodate their schedules not the mothers #Furness General Hospital Scandal #This is going to hurt #Keep Adam Kay away from women #Women wanting a say in their births are not acting like they want to control the weather #Nottingham maternity scandal #If the baby suffers during a traumatic birth it's the mother who will providing the care after they come home from the hospital

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yaut-jaknowit · 10 months ago

Text

Your Crown is Slipping

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3967

Summary: After the problem with Dwainet, new issues rise from the clan. Including those that don't think We'ar-ow is who they need. We'ar-ow isn't afraid but has to juggle their new life now. People are starting to question We'ar-ow's leadership. Which has to draw her away from her cabin and leaving you alone more. You see the way We'ar-ow is struggling and speaks with her.

Author Note: Uh oh. There's unrest in the clan guys. How's We'ar-ow gonna balance while dealing with you? Ehehehe

Masterlist

Ao3

All it takes is one person to start rumors. Then, rumors will fly like a wildfire across the entire clan, destroying your integrity. Everything you’ve known will be uprooted by a single person. A person who wants to take away the precious little ooman they’ve cast to side. Discarded nothing more than rotten meat. An action that should’ve cost him his life but you, sweet ooman, begged for his life to be spared.

When she looked into those pleading eyes, she could not say no. Now, it was returning with a bite that hurt and caused more trouble. You were worth it. But his head should’ve been hung above her bedroom door, warding anyone off. Only if she didn’t fall for your soft cries.

Like any problem, they can be solved. The head of said problem was rooted in Dwainet. A problem We’ar-ow was going to get rid of.

She chuffed lowly to herself in the empty of her throne room. The door closed and locked tight while she had time to think in the lonely space.

Now, without the hunt of figuring out who had hurt you, We’ar-ow had changed her direction. At anytime she wasn’t in her quarters, she had the screen on her gauntlet pulled up with the cameras. Always watching and ensuring your safety. Though halfway across the ship from you, she had Xilomere stay nearby while she preformed her duties.

Today, she hadn’t even offered to take you with her. You had declined the last three times in the last week. We’ar-ow easily read the terror in your eyes. So, today, she left you behind to sleep in the comfort of her bed. The dark bags under your eyes growing only more every day. She knew what that was from and didn’t like it one bit.

Every time she returned to her dwelling, she would pull you to her room and sleep earlier than usual. You needed it. Every time, you would fight against her only to come to the conclusion it was pointless. Then, you were out. To sleep until the morning rose on the ship. We’ar-ow stayed up, more vigilant than ever. She got the necessary amount of hours to keep her functioning.

Curled up on the comforts of her large bed was your still sleeping form. Eyes still closed, chest slowly rising and falling in a deep sleep. One that you needed. She hated the fact that scum was disturbing your rest over his hatred of you. Dwainet lost his precious mate and realized his mistake too late.

You’re hers. Through and through.

A rap of knuckles on the two imposing doors brought We’ar-ow’s attention back to reality. All she gave was grunt. The screen on her gauntlet still pulled up so she would not lose a moment of you. Dwainet already has shown off his hand of tricks, which could include unlocking her doors. She doesn’t fully know who sides with Dwainet’s beliefs.

It needs to be squashed before the spark can grow. She’s worked far too hard to keep this clan peaceful.

The door revealed Dunkot, the head of security. His grey body moved into the room. A soft click sounded next as he strolled over to the base of the stairs. He knelt down on one knee and bowed his head fully. The hunter knew of his mistake and was attempting to redeem the entirety of his title. How could he allow this to happen, to let this slip past him? Her pet was injured because of it.

Her steely gaze was set upon his knelt form. “What news have you brought to me?” she snapped at him, voice firm.

Dunkot returned to a stand and yet doesn’t grow the courage to find her eyes. “The breach in the system has finally been patched. The corrupted data has also been recovered. Night vision was able to capture the attack,” he explained and kept his gaze down cast.

“And those who side with Dwainet during this revolution?” We’ar-ow eyed the grey Yautja closely.

He cleared his throat and swallowed thickly. “I have removed them from rotation and put them in the brig, including Dwainet.” A pregnant paused settled in the air. We’ar-ow notice immediately he had more to say. “If I may, Monarch…” She dipped her head. “Why go through all this trouble over a ooman? He wants it dead. Why not jettison it off the ship? That-“

Before the stupid male could utter another word, We’ar-ow flew down the steps and swallowed his throat in one hand. Due to her larger frame as a female, she pulled him off the ground and held him there, choking him out. He mandibles flared out with a roar that shook the very ground. “That is my pet! That ooman is mine.”

Worst than a dry jungle fire, her eyes were alit with unruly rage.

The Yautja was at her mercy. She could snap his neck if she so pleased. He didn’t want further put himself in harms way by spewing shit from his mouth. An apology would only make things worse.

“I let him win. What kind of message do you think that’ll send to the clan? That I’ll roll over at the misfortune of a male who believes he can best a Monarch. I earned this title,” she growled into his face, ready to tear his features off. “I will not let go until it kills me, and I join Cetanu.”

“Yes, of course, Monarch. You are right,” he agreed with her, anything to let the crushing grip on his windpipe to be let up. She scoffed and released him. The male crumpled to his knees and coughed, rubbing at the new bruise that’ll appear.

A heat glare was set on Dunkot. We’ar-ow shooed him off. “Go. Send me the video as well.” To save himself from further embarrassment and attack, he scrambled away from the Monarch. Out of the room and down the hall he disappeared.

With a huff, We’ar-ow marched back up the stairs and collapsed back into her throne. The room once more empty to any living being. Her gaze returned to the screen on her gauntlet. Her eyes snapped wide at the lack of your form on her bed. Immediately, she flipped between the different screens to find you.

In the kitchenette, bent over and searching through the ice box, there you were. The tightness in her chest loosen. She relaxed into her throne once more and gazed at your form. All safe and sound in her quarters.

The peacefulness was interrupted by a pop from her messages. Dunkot. A video file. We’ar-ow could feel her gut burn and twist at the same time before even opening the file. It would take every cell in her body not to march down to the brig and tear apart that scum for laying a hand on her pet. Once she has her evidence compiled, she’ll set up a court date. Then, he’ll be stripped of his title and deemed a bad blood. Where any Yautja is welcomed to hunt him. But it’ll be her to remove his head from his body. Then, she’ll offer the head to you.

The way her scales crawled with rage she’s never dwelled to before was new. One look at the Monarch had anyone, male or female bolting out of the way. No one dared to stay in the same hallway as her while she marched her way through.

Even as she smashed her code in and entered her quarters, she didn’t stop. We’ar-ow snatched your confused form off of the couch like before and stomped into her room. The bed was welcoming. Your body was thrown once more on the pelts. You weren’t given a second to comprehend the situation before her weight was suffocating you.

Your limbs flailed about, slapping and smacking her, attempting to push her off. It was feeble thought but with all the air pushed off of your lungs, you weren’t thinking straight. “We’ar-ow!” you gasped out with the last bit of air you had.

That was able to snap the giant female out of her shadowed thoughts. She lifted her weight off of you and onto her elbows on either side of your head. Her head was quick to bury its way into the crook of your neck.

Now able to breathe, you heaved for oxygen before putting your hands on her chest and pushing. She didn’t budge, not that you thought she would. It was a good try. “What’s gotten into you?” you questioned, voice disturbing the silence that filled the room. She’s never acted in such a way before that it concerned you more than you thought it should.

Sharp fangs pressed into your fragile skin. Any more pressure would cause them to sink into the fragile flesh. You tensed up, afraid her kindness to you was all a rouse.

They never went further. “We’ar-ow,” you shakily said, heart beginning to thunder in your ears. The pink Yautja moved the fangs and dragged them over the column of your throat. You swallowed at the feeling and laid still under her. At her will.

“He is in the brig,” she finally announced. In the low light, your brows furrowed. Not that she saw. Before it hits you who she’s talking about: Dwainet. You shuttered, nails digging into her back.

“Okay?” you responded, confused on why she’s acting this way if he’s locked away. It doesn’t mean you’re safer by any means though. There were thirteen others that stood on his side during the confrontation. Who knows how many more are out there, lurking in the shadows, such as he did.

The fangs pulled away. Her piercing gaze looked deep into your eyes. “Will you come to the throne room tomorrow?" You huffed. You don’t know why she’s so adamant for you to join her. It puts you at risk. Here, it’s at least safer. Three doors to keep you from the outside world and the dangers that fill it.

“No.” You weren’t going to beat around the bush. “Why do you want me to join you so badly? Want to watch one your clan members rip off my head?” Despite your concern, though waning, you felt anger about the whole situation.

A threatening snarled vibrated your whole body. “You are safe.” Now, that irked you. If only you could push her off and be in a more equal playing ground. But no. She still hovered above you and not giving you room for escape.

“He can not hurt you while in the brig.” This again.

A soured expression passed over your features. You tried to shove the giant off of you again but she didn’t even flinch. It felt like attempting to move a brick wall. “And the others? They’re still out there, hunting me for him. My ex-mate wants me dead for some fucking reason.”

Stinging tears prickled the corner of your eyes. You looked away from her, head turned to the side. We’ar-ow pinched your chin and forcefully turned your head. “You’re mine.” Your face fell into a deadpanned expression.

“Oh, wow. Yeah, that saves me from the fact that a group wants my head.” Your seething anger only growing further as she tried to dismiss the danger of you leaving this room. “I’ve already known your species is only cruel and harsh. No need to rub salt in a festering wound.”

Your heart ached at your own words, disliking the fact that came from you. She’s not cruel. She’s not harsh. Not to you.

The Yautja started to purr softly. “No, don’t do that!” You gave another shove at her, even using your knees into her stomach. That got her to budge but not enough to remove her off of you. “Get off!” She raised a brow at you. It was stupid to demand things of her when she’s the one in charge of every aspect of your life.

Okay, well. That’s not true. But she is the Monarch and you’re just her lowly pet. That she’s fighting for somehow.

We’ar-ow leaned up on her knees, towering over you lying form. You scrambled the moment you had to get to your feet, standing on the bed. Even on her knees, you didn’t reach over her head. Her purr gone.

“I’ve regretted every moment I’ve been on this damn ship. From the moment I even met Dwainet back on earth. I want to go home, back to safety where I’m not being hunted down by someone who I loved. Dwainet was my mate, we shared a lot with each other!” you shouted at her and pointed a finger into her chest.

If you were clear in the head, you might’ve reformed yourself into the timid, shy creature she knew you as. Too terrified to deal with even looking her in the eye. But this, this was completely different.

A huffed sounded from the Yautja in front of you. That only made your anger hit an all time high. Flushed in the face, heated like a flame, you spilled secrets not meant for her ears. “And that’s why I’m planning my fucking escape!” Your voice echoed back at you in the limited space.

All you could hear was the pounding in your ears of your own heart trying to escape. You slapped a hand over your mouth and stumbled backwards, nearly falling off the bed.

The moment you saw her move, your instinct drove you to flight. You sped off of the bed in a flurry of flailing limbs for the only exit. It didn’t take more than two steps for your back to be pressed against a warm surface, trapped all over again.

Hot tears skirted down your face as you struggled against her. A futile attempt to release the hold she has on you. She was going to kill you. End it all. All this trouble you’ve caused. You just spat and disrespected her entirely. This was it. She was going to end you.

Yet, the killing blow never came. You slowly turned your head to look at her. Her facial expression was no different. “I know.”

She knows.

We’ar-ow knows.

Your jaw dropped. “You know?” you whispered the confirmation of an earthshattering discovery. How does she know? How long? Why hasn’t she tried to stop you? Punish you? She let you continue to plan this escape this entire time while knowing your idea.

“Yes. I have known.” She nodded her massive head, long tresses swaying with the movement.

“Why didn’t you stop me?!” You raised your voice again.

“I know a lot of things about you my dear ooman. You will not leave. You are mine.” A hand cradles your chin and forces your head up, exposing the soft tissue of your throat. One claw could spill your life essence and leave you drowning in it. But she does not go for the kill.

You rapidly shake your head. No! You swore this off. Swore off the hurt that would come if this were to happen again. You would not love again. Not her. You’re just her pet. That’s why she cares. The only reason she cares.

There were no more words to be said. You cast your gaze to the ceiling, unable to will yourself to look her in the eye. Anything to stop yourself from bawling out and curling into a ball on the floor at her feet.

Now, there was no escape from this hell, from this torture Dwainet brought you to.

“I will keep my ooman safe. I promised you that. There are cameras in every room, so when I am not in my quarters, you are watched over. I will keep you safe,” she reiterated for the last time. She wanted to get it into your thick skull you are to stay. Stay with her. “And your tablet. It is connected to my gauntlet. I see everything you have looked up.”

We’ar-ow leaned down to press her closed mandibles to your throat. “Maybe one day, I will teach you to fly a ship. Until then, you are to stay. Stay where I can protect you. Dwainet will face his crimes. I will quell this unrest like when I first was crowned Monarch. Everything will return to normal with you at my side, my ooman.”

Sharp tusks raked across feeble flesh, leaving behind goosebumps in their wake. You shuttered at the feeling, unsure if you liked or to fight the feeling growing more in the pit of your stomach.

After a pregnant pause had filled the air for longer than comfortably, you placed a hand on her shoulder. We’ar-ow stopped every movement in her body, waiting. “Will you tell me about how you became Monarch?” you asked, trying to change the subject. You were afraid on where this might take you if you didn’t stop it. It wasn’t a path you were willing to take a risk on. Not when fresh cuts still bled your weak heart.

Her blazing orange eyes searched through yours before casting to the side. A grunt surged through her vocal cords. We’ar-ow pulled away from you, stealing her heat back. With a motion with her head towards her bed, she stalked over to it but stopped. The alien waited patiently to follow her commands.

With nothing better to do, you shadowed behind her and crawled onto the sheets. You don’t know what the creature wanted from you and sat there, looking up at her.

She looked down at your smaller frame before kneeling onto the mattress again. All it took was a singular hand to push you onto your back. Then, she was on top of you, smothering you with her weight. This time, she was mindful of how much pressure was too much. Just enough to feel the slightest struggle to gather air back into your lungs.

The alien felt like a weighted, warm blanket. Forcing herself between your legs so they would either lay limp or wrap around her hips. Her alien face was buried back into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. A need after the day she endured so far away from you.

“You want to know about me?” If you didn’t know any better, it sounded like she was… teasing you. You tensed up underneath her, nails digging into her shoulders. She purred a laugh into your skin. “Do you know what it takes or the process of becoming a Monarch?”

All it took to answer her question was a simple head shake. You could feel her roll her eyes. “Of course, that scum never taught a thing about his culture. Typical.” You nearly snorted if it wasn’t for the reminder of the whole situation. One she either purposefully or not dragged you from.

“As you know, Monarchs are the leader of their clan with a council team. Like… a check in the system. The last Monarch nearly took down this clan if it wasn’t for the council standing up and bringing her down.” We’ar-ow shifted, still between your legs but now on her knees; nearly folding you into yourself. “When a Monarch either steps down or dies, a mourning process begins with the need to search out a new one.”

Fangs raked across your neck, leaving behind heat in their wake. You shuttered at the feeling, eyes drifting close. “It’s a month-long process. Any female is welcomed to step up and take the challenge. The old council leads the tournament, conducting the challenges for them to overcome.”

“Those who step into the ring have but one come to their death. Last Yautja standing wins the title, proving they deserve the title. It’s not one given but won.”

“As for the court, the newly crowned Monarch is allowed to either choose to keep the old council or pick new members. Many choose to pick their own, filled with people they know personally and trust. I, myself, stemmed off and kept the last court. One of my sisters is part of it. I knew many of them before I earned my new title. I preferred to learn about them and grow new bonds then having to decide who would be good for the needed positions.”

Somehow, the alien was able to shift her knees further under your lower back. You were pushed more against her fetal positioned body. Even if you minded, not that you did, there was not a chance to push the hunk of alien off of you. You huffed, amused at her antics.

While your hands rested on her shoulders, you noticed the tension under them, despite being a thickly corded beast. You tilted your hands and dug your thumbs along the countless knots filling her muscles on her shoulders.

It would kill you to say this but the way she turned into putty in your hands was… adorable. You melted at her reaction, not seeing the dangerous creature she had to be.

“By god’s grace. You’re incredibly tense,” you muttered and continued the same motion, forcing the knots to dissipate under your nimble digits. We’ar-ow purred louder than you’ve ever heard. A sound that could defeat you in seconds.

Before you could realize what you were saying, you dragged your hands down her biceps. “Do you want a back massage?” The rational side of you brain suppled it was like a payment for keeping you safe.

That was all.

Her sputtered before amping back up, face burying further into your neck. “What makes you think I need one?” The tone was teasing, allowing for bicker to rise. The same two fangs pressed into feeble skin, testing the limit of pressure. What would be too much to draw blood? Further marking you as hers besides her own Monarch symbol on the back of your neck.

Your hands return to her shoulders. “You feel tenser than a sphertine belt for a car.” She rested more weight on you and made it harder once more to breath properly. Not that you could do much to battle her.

When a confused trill sounded from her throat, you would’ve face palmed. You still haven’t learned they don’t under metaphors, at least not ones like that. “You’re just really tense. Do you want one or not?” You were growing embarrassed at the fact you were offering such a thing to her. A creature who could tear your skull from your body if she so pleases.

The pressure draped across the top of your body was removed, allowing you to fully breath. Her giant body moved to lay on her stomach next to you. Her arms crossed while resting her jaw on them. She looked comfortable as she gazed at you from her spot.

“Well?” she rumbled and motioned her head towards her back.

Despite offering, you were stunned she was letting you. Even you knew showing your back and laying down like she has was an extremely trustful action. You swallowed thickly before getting up onto your knees, knelt at her side. We’ar-ow jerked her head up again in the same motion as before. Your eyes snapped wide. She wanted you to get on her back.

Yeah… it would make the job easier but that? You gnawed on your bottom lip before timidly crawling on top of her, straddling her wide hips. It was a stretch to settle comfortably. We’ar-ow just waited.

Every next movement was slow as you started at the top of her torso, fingers massaging her shoulders. “T-tell me if I do something wrong?” you sputtered, terrified I might push my luck even with her permission.

In return you got a deep groan as the Yautja snuggled deeper into the mattress, content. It encouraged you to keep going, fulfilling your offer till the end.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #We'ar-ow

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