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elryuse · 4 months ago

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I'm sorry, Can I Be Yours

Winter X Male Reader

Tags : Childhood Friends, Friends To Lovers, Kiss, Teasing, Fluff, Virgin Sex, Creampie, Good Ending?

The School bell blared, jolting me out of my reverie. I scanned the emptying hallway, searching for Winter's familiar pearly blonde hair. My stomach clenched when I spotted her surrounded by her posse, their laughter echoing down the corridor. Winter, the girl who used to chase butterflies with me at recess, now seemed like a distant star, dazzling yet untouchable.

It wasn't always like this. Back in elementary school, Winter, or Minjeong as I called her then, was the new kid, a shy sparrow adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces. I, the self-proclaimed schoolyard ambassador, had swooped in, determined to be her friend. We were an unlikely pair – me, the rambunctious chatterbox, and her, the quiet observer with eyes that held galaxies within them. But somehow, it clicked. We built sandcastles that defied the tide, shared scraped knees and ice cream cones, our laughter echoing through the playground.

High school, however, had cast a long shadow over our friendship. Winter blossomed into an ethereal beauty, her smile lighting up every room she entered. Admirers swarmed around her like bees to a rose, and her schedule became a whirlwind of student council meetings, dance practices, and social gatherings. I, on the other hand, remained comfortably obscure, content with the company of my camera and a well-worn book.

The distance wasn't physical, not yet. We still sat together at lunch, a forced routine amidst the chaos. But the easy conversations, the comfortable silences, those had become a distant memory. Now, an awkward tension hung between us, a chasm filled with unspoken words and longing glances that pierced my heart.

One afternoon, at the usual lunch table, Winter was surrounded by her usual crowd, their voices a flurry of excitement about the upcoming school festival. I stole a glance at her, my heart sinking at the coldness in her eyes, a stark contrast to the warmth that used to reside there.

"Hey, Winter," I began hesitantly, my voice barely a whisper above the din. "They were talking about volunteers for the photography booth at the festival. You know I take a decent picture or two."

A flicker of something, maybe annoyance, crossed her features before she schooled her expression into a polite smile.

"Oh, right," she said, her voice devoid of its usual enthusiasm. "Yeah, maybe you can help out. Hana mentioned you were good with that camera of yours."

The casual dismissal stung. Hana? We hadn't discussed the festival, and the way Winter phrased it made it seem like it was Hana's idea, not mine. I forced a smile, the bitterness clinging to my tongue.

"Sure," I mumbled, pushing my untouched lunch tray away. "Just let me know what needs to be done."

The rest of the lunch break passed in a blur of forced conversation and stolen glances. As the final bell rang, I gathered my things, the weight of our strained friendship heavy on my chest. Winter barely acknowledged me as she swept out of the classroom, leaving me adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Was this the end of our story? The question echoed in the empty classroom, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between us.

The following week, a new face appeared in our homeroom class. A girl with long, flowing black hair and a face that could launch a thousand ships, but her posture screamed timidity. She shuffled in, her eyes downcast, avoiding eye contact with the sea of curious faces. The usual welcoming chatter died down, replaced by a tense silence.

As the teacher droned on about expectations and school policies, I couldn't help but steal glances at the new girl. Her name was Lee Seo-Ah, according to the attendance sheet. Unlike Winter, who captivated the room with her mere presence, Seo-Ah seemed to shrink into herself, disappearing into the background.

A pang of sympathy stabbed at my heart. I remembered all too well the awkwardness of being the new kid, the crushing loneliness of trying to navigate unfamiliar territory. Winter, once the shy newcomer, had effortlessly blossomed into the center of attention. Seo-Ah, on the other hand, seemed trapped in a shell of her own making.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, the usual flurry of introductions and small talk began. But Seo-Ah remained isolated, a solitary island amidst a bustling sea. I couldn't just stand by and watch.

Taking a deep breath, I approached her desk, my heart pounding a nervous rhythm against my ribs. "Hi, I'm Y/n," I said, offering a friendly smile. "Welcome to our school."

Seo-Ah looked up, startled, her eyes wide and filled with a flicker of surprise. For a moment, she didn't speak, then a shy smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"H-hi," she finally mumbled, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm Seo-Ah. It's... nice to meet you."

Her shyness was endearing, a stark contrast to the usual boisterousness of the classroom. "Seems like you're new here," I continued, hoping to ease the tension. "Anything I can help you with?"

Seo-Ah hesitated, then bit her lip. "Well, I'm a bit lost. I don't know where my next class is."

Relief washed over me. "No problem at all. I have the same class next. Let me show you the way."

As we walked down the hallway, Seo-Ah spoke in hushed tones, her words punctuated by long pauses. She told me she was from Busan, a coastal city known for its seafood and beaches. She loved art, particularly painting, but was too shy to join any clubs.

I listened intently, offering words of encouragement and pointing out landmarks along the way. To my surprise, Seo-Ah slowly began to open up, her voice gaining a hint of confidence. By the time we reached her next class, a hesitant smile played on her lips.

"Thanks, Y/n," she said, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

"No worries at all," I replied, a genuine warmth spreading through my chest. "Welcome to the group, Seo-Ah."

Perhaps, in helping Seo-Ah find her way, I had also found a way to bridge the growing distance between myself and Winter. After all, kindness, like a pebble tossed into a still pond, could create ripples that reached far and wide.

A couple of weeks flew by in a whirlwind of activity. During lunch breaks, I found myself gravitating towards Seo-Ah, her infectious laugh and bubbly personality a welcome change from the strained atmosphere I shared with Winter. We'd discuss everything under the sun – from her passion for painting to the latest K-pop group she was obsessed with. Slowly, her shyness melted away, replaced by a comfortable openness.

One afternoon, at the usual lunch table, Winter caught me engrossed in a conversation with Seo-Ah. Her expression was unreadable, but a flicker of something, maybe jealousy, crossed her features for a fleeting moment before she masked it with a polite smile.

"Looks like you've made a new friend, Y/n," she said, her voice cool and detached.

"Y-yeah," I replied, trying to keep the awkwardness at bay. "Seo-Ah just transferred from Busan. We get along pretty well."

Winter simply nodded, her gaze lingering on Seo-Ah for a beat too long before she turned away to continue her conversation with Hana. The air crackled with unspoken tension, a stark contrast to the easy banter I shared with Seo-Ah.

During that week, I discovered another one of Seo-Ah's talents. While helping her unpack her art supplies after school, she pulled out a sketchbook filled with breathtaking landscapes and portraits. My jaw dropped in awe.

"Wow, Seo-Ah, these are amazing!" I exclaimed, flipping through the pages. "You're incredibly talented."

Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. "Thanks, Y/n. I actually joined the art club this week. They seemed really nice."

A surge of excitement coursed through me. "That's fantastic! Maybe we can even work on some projects together sometime. I'm in the photography club, and we're always looking for new angles and perspectives."

Her eyes lit up. "R-really? That sounds awesome!"

Over the next few days, Seo-Ah and I spent our free time bouncing ideas off each other. We'd discuss light and shadow, composition, and the emotions a photograph or painting could evoke. With her, there was none of the awkward silences or unspoken expectations that had infiltrated my relationship with Winter. It felt… easy, comfortable.

Meanwhile, the distance between Winter and me continued to widen. Our conversations were short and superficial, filled with long pauses and forced smiles. I missed our late-afternoon talks, the way we could just sit in comfortable silence, knowing each other's thoughts without needing to speak them. But Winter was a whirlwind of student council meetings and social gatherings now, leaving me feeling like an outsider peering into a world I no longer belonged to.

One Friday afternoon, while Seo-Ah and I were discussing camera settings in the library, Winter approached our table, her face etched with a forced smile.

"Hey, Y/n," she said, her voice clipped. "Just wanted to let you know there's a student council meeting this evening. You're… welcome to join."

Her words felt like an afterthought, an obligation rather than an invitation. Seo-Ah, sensing the tension, chimed in.

"Oh, a student council meeting? That sounds important. You should definitely go, Y/n."

Winter's smile faltered for a second, then she straightened her shoulders. "Yeah, sure," she said, her gaze flickering to Seo-Ah before darting away. "See you guys later."

As she walked away, a knot of frustration tightened in my stomach. Was I missing something here? Did Winter feel threatened by Seo-Ah's presence? Or was it simply a case of her being too busy with her own things to acknowledge our dwindling friendship?

Stepping into the student council meeting room felt like entering a different world. The air crackled with nervous energy, students flitting around finalizing decorations and posters. Minjeong, usually radiating icy efficiency, seemed to have a vibrant life of her own here. Her voice, sharp and clear as she addressed the room, held an undeniable power.

I found myself an empty chair at the back, feeling strangely out of place amidst all the organized chaos. The topic of the meeting – the upcoming school fireworks festival – was a whirlwind of budgets, logistics, and safety regulations. Hana, Minjeong's ever-reliable vice president, rattled off numbers with laser focus, while Minjeong herself managed the discussion with a firm but encouraging demeanor.

As the meeting progressed, I stole glances at Minjeong. The fierce, focused leader I witnessed was so different from the quiet girl who had been my best friend. A pang of longing crossed my chest for those simpler times. Then, our eyes met.

Caught off guard, Minjeong's gaze flickered for a moment before she looked away, a hint of pink dusting her cheeks. A shy smile tugged at the corner of her lips, a fleeting glimpse of the girl I knew beneath the student council president facade. The warmth of that smile sent a jolt through me. Was there still hope for us?

Suddenly, Hana's voice cut through my contemplation. "So, who's up for grabbing some pizza after this? We've still got hours of work to do before the week's out."

A chorus of groans and cheers filled the room. Minjeong chuckled, a soft sound that seemed foreign on her focused face. "Sounds good, Hana. But make it quick, alright? We don't want to be here all night."

As the meeting wrapped up, the room buzzed with newfound energy. Students piled into a corner, chatting excitedly about pizza toppings and movie plans. I hesitated, unsure of my place in this world.

"Y/n?" Minjeong's voice caught my attention. She stood at the front of the room, her gaze hesitant but inviting. "You coming to pizza night?"

The question hung in the air, a test of the fragile thread that still connected us. My heart pounded in my chest. This could be a step forward, a chance to bridge the gap that had grown between us. Or it could be a painful reminder of how far things had changed.

I looked at Minjeong, her eyes filled with a nervous anticipation that mirrored my own. Taking a deep breath, I offered a smile, the same shy smile we used to share in elementary school.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice a little rough around the edges. "I'd like that."

A genuine smile, bright and unreserved, broke across Minjeong's face. It was a small step, a single word in a long conversation, but for the first time in weeks, a flicker of hope ignited within me. Perhaps, amidst the chaos of student council meetings and new friendships, there was still a place for us, for the bond we once shared.

Stepping into the bustling pizza parlor, I was greeted by the aroma of melted cheese and bubbling tomato sauce. Minjeong's friends, a vibrant bunch I only recognized from school hallways, were already digging into their slices, their laughter a welcome counterpoint to the tense atmosphere of the meeting earlier.

Minjeong, perched at the end of a long table, her cheeks flushed with a hint of nervous excitement, spotted me. A radiant smile broke across her face, chasing away the serious leader persona from before. She patted the seat next to her, a silent invitation.

As I settled in, a chorus of curious glances and playful nudges fell upon me. A girl with sparkling eyes and a mischievous grin leaned forward.

"So, Y/n," she began, her voice dripping with friendly interrogation, "how long have you known our Minjeong? Spill the secrets of your epic friendship!"

A wave of heat flooded Minjeong's cheeks, her cheeks turning the color of the pepperoni slices on the table. She mumbled something inaudible under her breath, burying her face in her pizza slice. I chuckled, the sound warming the air.

"Well Actually," I said, taking a bite of my own pizza, "we go way back. All the way back to elementary school."

A collective gasp escaped the group. Stories of elementary school crushes and childhood sweethearts circulated with wide-eyed wonder. Seeing Minjeong squirm under the spotlight only endeared her to me even more.

"She was this shy little thing," I continued, my voice filled with a smile, "always hiding behind her art folders. I just decided she needed a friend and dragged her into all sorts of adventures."

Minjeong peeked at me over her pizza slice, her eyes wide and filled with a mixture of shyness and amusement. My heart stuttered in my chest. Even after all this time, her gaze still held the power to send butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

"And did those adventures include falling head over heels for each other?" one of the guys piped up, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The question hung heavy in the air. A long silence stretched, broken only by the clinking of silverware and the murmur of conversation. I met Minjeong's gaze, a silent conversation unfolding between us.

"I…," I hesitated, taking a deep breath. "The truth is, Minjeong has always been special to me. Ever since that first day in elementary school, there was something about her. Her quiet strength, her kindness, her way of seeing the world through those incredible eyes."

Minjeong's entire face turned crimson, her lips forming a silent "wow." The rest of the table, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, remained silent, their eyes shifting between us with anticipation.

"And you, Y/n?" Minjeong finally managed to whisper, her voice barely audible. "Do you still feel the same way?"

"More than you know," I said, my voice sincere. "Seeing you all grown up, this amazing leader everyone admires… it just makes me realize how much I care about you."

The moment stretched, charged with unspoken emotions. Then, with a roar of approval, Minjeong's friends erupted in cheers.

"Oh my god, you guys are perfect for each other!"

"Finally! It was about time someone confessed!"

Minjeong, overwhelmed by the sudden outburst, hid her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with a mixture of shyness and laughter. My own heart pounded with a mixture of hope and disbelief. Could this really be happening?

As the cheers subsided, a shy smile peeked out from behind Minjeong's hands. Looking at me, her eyes filled with an emotion I couldn't quite decipher. Was it fear? Joy? Relief?

"Well, Y/n," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "It seems like you spilled the biggest secret of all."

I grinned, leaning closer. "Only the one I felt was most important."

The rest of the night was a blur of happy chatter, shared stories, and stolen glances. The seeds of doubt I'd harbored for weeks began to fade, replaced by a warm flicker of hope. Perhaps, amidst the changing tides of high school, our childhood connection could blossom into something more. As we walked home under the soft glow of the streetlights, a comfortable silence settled between us, a silence that spoke volumes more than words ever could. Maybe, just maybe, our story wasn't over yet.

As we strolled away from the pizza parlor, the streetlights cast soft yellow pools on the sidewalk. The air was thick with the unspoken words that hung between us. Finally, Minjeong broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper.

"Y/n," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "Do you… hate me?"

The question struck me like a physical blow. Hate her? The girl who had been my closest companion, my confidante? It was a ridiculous notion.

"Why would I hate you?" I asked gently, my voice laced with concern.

"For everything," she mumbled, tears welling up in her eyes. "For how I treated you these past three years. For being so cold and distant."

I stopped walking, turning to face her. Minjeong's face was illuminated by the soft glow of a nearby streetlamp, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Minjeong-Ah, listen to me," I said, cupping her face in my hands. "You were focused on school, student council, all those responsibilities. It's natural. You've become this amazing leader, kind and strong. I could never hate you for that."

She shook her head, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. "But you must have felt so alone. Like I replaced you."

"It wasn't like that," I assured her, wiping away the stray tear with my thumb. "It just… it's a shame we drifted apart. I miss the talks we used to have, the silly jokes, the shared dreams."

A sob escaped her lips, and she buried her face in my chest. Tears soaked through my shirt as she held onto me for dear life.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n," she cried, her voice muffled against my chest. "I'm such an idiot. Seo-Ah is great, and I'm happy she has a friend, but… but you're different. You've always been different."

My heart ached for her, for the pain she had unknowingly inflicted. "Seo-Ah's a friend," I said, stroking her hair soothingly. "But you, Minjeong… you're so much more."

She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching mine. "More?"

"We grew up together," I continued, my voice soft. "We shared secrets, dreams, a lifetime of memories. Seo-Ah may be a new chapter, but you… you're the whole book."

Tears streamed down her face, each one a silent apology. "I-i messed up," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "The thought of losing you to someone else… it scared me to death. But I was too scared to admit it, too scared to even talk to you."

Understanding dawned on me. Her coldness, her distance, it was all a misguided attempt to protect herself from the possibility of losing our bond. The irony wasn't lost on me – her actions had almost achieved the very outcome she feared.

Enfolding her in a hug once more, I whispered into her hair, "It's okay, Minjeong. We can start over. Together."

Her body trembled against mine, a mixture of relief and hope washing over her. The night was filled with apologies, whispered confessions, and the bittersweet promise of a new beginning. We walked hand in hand, not as childhood friends, but as something more, something that transcended labels. We walked, not just towards her house, but towards a future we would write together, a future where communication replaced silence, and where the warmth of our friendship could finally blossom into something beautiful.

The walk to Minjeong's house felt different under the soft glow of the streetlights. The air, once thick with unspoken words, now crackled with a nervous energy, a budding promise. As we reached her doorstep, the weight of the emotional rollercoaster we'd just been on settled in.

Minjeong, sniffling and wiping away the last of her tears, looked at me with a mixture of vulnerability and hope. "Would you… would you like to stay?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Staying the night at her place felt like venturing into uncharted territory. Was it too soon? Yet, the thought of leaving her on such a vulnerable note felt unbearable.

"I… I don't know," I stammered, unsure of the protocol for such a situation.

Tears welled up in her eyes again, threatening to spill over. "Please, Y/n," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

My resolve crumbled. How could I say no to those tear-filled eyes, to the raw vulnerability she was displaying? "Okay," I sighed, offering her a weak smile. "I'll stay."

Relief washed over her face, a radiant smile replacing the tear tracks. She fumbled with her keys, finally unlocking the door and ushering me inside.

The familiar scent of her home, a mixture of lavender and something vaguely sweet, instantly transported me back to our childhood sleepovers. As I entered her bedroom, the floodgates of nostalgia opened.

The walls were adorned with a tapestry of our shared history – a photo of us grinning goofily at a carnival, a drawing we'd made together during a rainy afternoon, a faded ticket stub from that time we snuck into a movie. Every picture, every memento, whispered of a friendship that had weathered storms, unspoken yet understood.

A choked sob escaped Minjeong's lips as she noticed my gaze tracing the memories on the wall. "It's… it's like a museum in here," she sniffled, a shy smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

I walked over to her, my heart overflowing with a cocktail of emotions. "It's beautiful," I whispered, reaching out to touch a photo of us on our first day of elementary school. "A reminder of everything we've been through."

Minjeong's cheeks flushed a rosy pink. As if making a sudden decision, she began to slowly undress, her movements filled with a nervous anticipation.

Shock momentarily paralyzed me. "Minjeong-Ah?" I stammered, unsure of how to interpret her actions.

She looked at me, her eyes shimmering with a newfound courage. "Y/n," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "I know this might seem crazy, but… all this time, all I ever wanted was you."

The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with unspoken desires. Before I could respond, she leaned in, hesitantly at first, then with a growing sense of urgency. Her lips met mine in a kiss that was both tentative and filled with a desperate longing.

It was a kiss that tasted of tearful apologies, unspoken confessions, and the bittersweet joy of a rekindled connection. In that kiss, we bridged the gap of lost years, the unspoken words replaced by a silent promise of a future we would write together.

Pulling away, breathless and a little dazed, we stared into each other's eyes. They held a newfound depth, a reflection of the emotions we had shared.

"Minjeong-Ah," I finally managed to breathe, my voice thick with emotion. "I… I thought I'd lost you."

"Me too," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes again, but this time, they were tears of joy. "But we're here now, Y/n. And this time," she continued, a determined glint in her eyes, "I'm not letting go."

Hearing those words, I immediately kissed her again. This time with so much passion and hunger to love her even more. minjeong share to play with my tounge,Something that I didn't know she would ever learned.

"M-minjeong-Ah.. You're so pretty". I blurted out, My words of praise basically flies out on its own. Minjeong blushes, Before planting another kiss to my lips. Her soft and plump lips, a cushion to my own.

"I-i want to try it... I-i want to do it with you Y/n". Minjeong blushes, Her hands touching the entrance of her now wet pussy. I blushed deeply, Not expecting that we'll come this far.

But I now know, that we are meant for each other. We both loved each other. I promised, I would never let her down anymore. I would love her with all of my heart.

"I-i'm putting it in Minjeong-Ah. Tell me if it hurts okay"? I gently caresses her face. As I started to slowly thrust my dick into her pussy, Minjeong immediately moaned, Her body trembling, as her hole started to widen, and not long after that. I have successfully inserted my whole dick deep into her pussy. As her hymen broke, Blood soon come out. I panicked, Asking Minjeong if she's alright.

She seemed to be trembling, and crying. I tried to pull back. But minjeong yelled "Noo.. Don't pull it out... I-i can handle it".

I hesitated, I didn't want this experience to hurt her. I explained it to her, that she doesn't need to force herself, and we can take it slowly. But to my suprise, Minjeong push me back, before straddling me.

"No.. No.. I want this.. I need this... Please don't leave me Y/n... I can handle this.. So please... caressing my face let me pleasure you". I immediately blushed hearing those words coming from her mouth. In the end I nodded, Letting her know I'll do it.

Minjeong started to move her hips slowly, Adjusting to the pain and pleasure that her body is currently having. And after a while, She finally found her pace and started to move faster and faster. We both moaned at how good this feels, And I just can't help but to admire her fit body, and her beautiful pair of tits.

"I-i know it's not the biggest... B-but.. Please love them". Minjeong blushes, as she turns her head around. I giggled before planting a kiss to her tits. Admiring them for how perfect they were. Mineong immediately smiled, Before planting another kiss to my lips.

After a while, I felt like I was near to reach my orgasm. As I saw Minjeong Continue swaying her hips, Something took over me and I gently put Minjeong into a missionary position. Minjeong legs immediately craddled surrounding my body, as her legs tightened. Her hand gripped the back of my body, As I kept on kissing her heck.

"Y/n!!! Y/n.. I'm close.. Fuck.. I'm so close..". Minjeong cried, as The pleasure was too much for the both of us. I told her that I'm also close.

"Shoot it inside me... I-it's okay... I want it..".

"W-whatt! No we can't... It's too dangerous minjeong... I'll shoot it outside".

"Noooo.. Please... I want your cum... Please... ".

As minjeong kept begging, and as I closely reached my limit. I can't help but to shoot my seed deep within her womb. As I did this, Minjeong moaned and tightly held me. Our body trembled in pleasure, and we finally reached our euphoria together.

After panting a while, We both Chukled before kissing each other for the last time, as we finally fell asleep. We held each other close, our bodies radiating a warmth that chased away the chill of the night. The room filled with the sound of our gentle breaths and the soft thudding of our hearts, a symphony of rediscovered love and a promise of a future where childhood friendship could finally blossom into something beautiful and everlasting.

Sunlight streamed through the window, painting golden stripes across Minjeong's face. She stirred, a sleepy smile curving her lips. Glancing beside her, she found me still nestled in the sheets, the events of last night replaying vividly in her mind. A blush crept up her cheeks as she remembered the passionate confessions and rekindled love that had blossomed under her very roof.

"Y/n," she whispered, nudging me gently. "Time to wake up. We don't want to be late for school."

I groaned playfully, pulling the covers over my head for a moment longer. "Five more minutes?" I mumbled, the warmth of the sheets and the memory of Minjeong close beside me making it hard to leave.

She chuckled, a sound like wind chimes dancing in a summer breeze. "Not a chance, sleepyhead. We have a whole day of classes and stolen glances ahead of us."

Her words were a sweet melody to my ears. Sitting up, I stretched, my gaze lingering on her. "Thank you, Minjeong-Ah," I said, my voice husky with sleep and unspoken emotions.

"For what?" she asked, tilting her head.

"For everything," I replied, cupping her face in my hands and leaning in for a soft kiss. It was a simple gesture, yet it spoke volumes of the renewed connection we shared.

The morning unfolded in a whirlwind of hurried breakfasts, stolen kisses in between brushing teeth, and nervous excitement as we walked to school together, hand in hand. As we reached our classroom, I was met with a concerned Seo-Ah, her eyes wide with worry.

"Y/n!" she exclaimed, rushing over. "Where have you been? I texted and called you a million times; I was scared something happened!"

My heart twinged with a pang of guilt. Seo-Ah's genuine concern warmed me, and I realized how much I valued our friendship. With a sheepish grin, I turned to Minjeong, taking her hand in mine.

"Seo-Ah," I began, my voice laced with a newfound confidence, "there's something I need to tell you. Minjeong and I… we're a couple now."

Seo-Ah's eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of sadness flitting across her face for a fleeting moment. But then, a genuine smile bloomed on her lips.

"Oh wow," she said, her voice filled with unexpected joy. "Congratulations, you two! I always thought you had a special connection."

Relief flooded me. I was worried how Seo-Ah would react, but her understanding and well-wishes warmed the air.

The rest of the day was a blur of excited whispers from classmates, stolen glances across the classroom, and the thrill of a newfound love. After school, Minjeong and I decided to celebrate. We walked hand-in-hand down a street lined with cherry blossom trees, their delicate pink petals showering us like confetti.

"This feels like a dream," Minjeong whispered, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"A dream I never want to wake up from," I replied, squeezing her hand.

We stopped at a quaint ice cream shop, the aroma of sweet waffle cones wafting through the air. We ordered our favorite flavors, sharing bites and laughing like children. As we savored the cool treat, I realized that sometimes, the most unexpected detours lead us to the sweetest destinations.

Looking into Minjeong's eyes, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling within them, I knew that our story was far from over. It was a story of friendship, of rediscovery, and of a love that had weathered the storms of time and finally blossomed into something beautiful. And as we walked into the sunset, hand in hand, with the promise of forever etched in our hearts, I knew this was just the beginning of our happily ever after.

The End

A/n : Hey Guys, Elryuse here. just want to say, This is probably one of my favorite stories/fics that I've ever written so far. The characterization of Winter/Minjeong really fit in this story. But I have to say, Justice for the Seo-Ah man. Initially, In my first draft of the story, Seo-Ah would be a contender for Winter, However while I was writing, I think this is for the best. So I settled for her losing quicker in the story.

And I wanted to apologize to some of you guys, who have requested for a fics, But I'm currently focusing my priority for my ko-fi fans and for people who ordered fics personally. But don't be sad, I would still definitely do some of your requests y'all. Hope you enjoyed this story guys. 🤗

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 7 months ago

Text

Part I: The Prophecy — June 25, 2011

Part I: On her daily morning run, Y/N wonders if she’ll ever have someone who wants her simply company. Spencer promises her just that, the only catch: she has to wait seven years.

Rating: Eventual smut, fluff and longing

Word Count: 3.5K

Series Masterlist | Tell Me What You Think!

My Mind Turns You Into Folklore: The Prophecy — June 25, 2011

Running, somehow, still made her feel like a child. Perhaps there was something unadulterated and carefree about losing yourself in the pounding of pavement. When Y/N felt the wind rush in her ears and the familiar burn throughout her body, she truly felt alive.

Her entire body ached— no, screamed— as she approached her fifth mile for the day’s session. For Y/N running wasn’t about getting to the destination fastest, but about finishing the race altogether.

She wished she could apply such wisdom to very particular aspects of her life. Namely, her love life. For Y/N, relationships with men were unpleasantly predictable. From terrible blind dates with friends who she honestly can’t tell if they meant well to men with habits so strange Y/N could only plead insanity by a drunken state as to why she entertained even a second glance. Unfortunately, for her the sea of men seemed to solely be comprised of rather the unfortunate sort of men that made her skin crawl.

Her knees burned as her mind ran through the five weddings and babies that were impending. Between cousins, college friends, and even her own sister all either, Y/N never more lonely than when she was surrounded by her people. There was something particularly voyeuristic about watching those you love move along the carousel while you’re left in the dust. She was a casual observer, marooned to the sidelines. And someone where along the way she forgot to even care.

Her chest burned as she wondered where her aunt, a woman born and forged from pure spite and hefty lack of tolerance for anything progressive, would sit her at her cousin’s wedding. Y/N heaved forward imagining what would be worse; the discarded old widow’s table with wives whose husbands’ expiration date had come and passed. Or with her unruly nephews who would have to be wrestled into a tiny tuxedo and bribed with fried food and the majesty of Red40 to maintain the semblance of civility.

Being 27, husbandless, boyfriendless, and childless didn’t usually bother Y/N. She loved her peace. But somehow it put her into this plane of existence where she straddled youth and adulthood. She had one foot jammed deep into the rich, sodden earth of childhood and one toe dipping too all too calm to be safe waters of adulthood. Yet being uncoupled was as if she purchased overnight shipping to the elephant graveyard.

It was antiquated. It was downright sexist, yet there was a small part of her heart and her entire being that craved to be taken care of by a man. She wanted someone to bring her flowers just because, to hug her from behind while she stirred soup for dinner on a chilly day, to brush her hair from her face as he brought her to the brink of pleasure time and time again.

There was only so much her vibrator could do.

But a heart that ached to be loved, that problem didn’t come with a WebMD link. There wasn’t a quick and easy fix to change something that defined her on a molecular level.

She savored the sweet breeze that reminded her of summer and childhood. The houses, various shades of blue, gray, and beige blurred past as she maintained her steady pace.

Y/N rounded the corner and pounded the pavement that led to Betsy’s Cape Cod. She was the Head Librarian and took Y/N under her rather Mother Goose-like wing three years ago when she took the position at the small, sleepy library. A suburb of Quantico, many of the patrons were families in public service.

She even stumbled across someone who quickly became her best friend, Spencer. He was some sort of former child prodigy turned adult wunderkid. After racking up more diplomas than most extended families collect, Spencer worked as a special agent for the FBI. But looking at him, you would never have guessed. He was timid and shy in a boyish way that made him seem much younger than 32. He was tall and lanky, yet despite his slender frame he seemed to completely light up every single room he walked into.

Both Betsy and Spencer buried themselves into the fabric of her life. Betsy sat on the front porch, slowly swaying on the large, wooden swing. A crocheted blanket lay over her lap, keeping her warm under the brisk morning’s chill.

“Y/N!” Betsy called, as she ascended the stairs with a bright smile, “Dearie, it’s far too cold for you to run out here.”

“I could say the same about you, Bets,”

Betsy dismissed Y/N with a coy smile and a wave of her hand. “It’s good for my old bones to get a little chill. Make sure everything is in working order.”

Betsy scooted over on the porch swing, making more than enough room for Y/N to sit.

“That tall kid? Hmm, Spencer? Yes. Spencer. Was in there looking for you yesterday. Poor kid’s entire day was ruined when I told him you were on a date. Now, is there a reason why you didn’t tell me you didn’t tell your best friend?” Betsy asked, not hesitating to ask a question that went straight for the jugular.

Y/N offered Betsy a weak smile. “There wasn’t anything to tell him. He’s not interested in my love life. We talk about books. And work. And… I don’t know…”

Betsy nodded, but her pointed look pressed Y/N to continue. There wasn’t anything romantic between her and Spencer, but that wasn’t to say the connection wasn’t the most important thing in her life. When she met him three years ago he simply waltzed into her life; a tall, gangly man with a large appetite for baked goods and an excellent taste in literature.

“Besides, he has a thing for his coworker. Even though she hardly acknowledges his existence.”

From the time she met Spencer, he constantly was talking about his teammates. Growing up, Spencer didn’t have a stable family life. His mother tried her best, while his father never tried at all. He grown up not knowing what it was like to belong anywhere and now he finally found something resembling a family.

JJ was blonde and skinny and perfect and Spencer was completely enamored with her. Y/N met her only a couple of times, the first after a football game. She shared a plate of cheese fries and gravy with Spencer’s other coworker, Penelope as Spencer attempted to spout an almanac’s worth of facts about football to JJ.

“Hmm,” Betsy murmured, swinging back and forth. “Well, he said he has to talk to you about something. Maybe he’s getting to his senses, finally.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, sipped some of the ice cold lemonade Betsy handed her, and gave her a pointed smile.

“This isn’t a romance novel, Bets. You’ve been sneaking too many of those bodice rippers.”

She stood up and felt some relief as her weary muscles stretched. Betsy waved another annoyed hand.

“Quiet down, Missy. I’ve had my chance at love. And I fully intend on you and Spencer being an item. My Arnold, may that old bastard rest in peace, never gave me children, so you and that boy are my only chance to fill this house with grandkids.”

“Oh my God, Betsy,” Y/N groaned, her head tossed back, “It’s not like that between us. And I promise you, it never will be.”

Y/N took off before Betsy had the chance to respond. But she couldn’t shake the funny feeling tugging at her heartstrings. She thought that maybe if she just focused her mind on feeling the wind blow her hair and her body burn as the third mile turned into a fifth, she could wash away the thoughts of one or two little children sitting on Betsy’s porch, sandwiched in between her and Spencer.

***

Gary, as it turned out, wasn’t a nice guy. First of all, he showed up precisely 23 and a half minutes late and hardly bothered to greet her as he sat down at their two seater table. He barked a drink order to the waitress, who graciously threw Y/N a sympathetic smile.

“So you work at Walter Reed?” Y/N asked, attempting to make conversation with the man seated in front of her. He was a couple years her senior and an Attending Emergency Room Doctor. On paper Gary seemed wonderful. He had a nice family; older sisters were always a green flag in Y/N’s book and seemed to have a basic grasp of personal hygiene practices.

Gary mumbled as the waitress brought him his drink: whisky on rocks. He downed it in about three minutes and signaled for the waitress to return.

“Sorry,” Gary apologized, his voice so close to resembling being embarrassed, but it, somewhere along the line, made a beeline in the opposite direction, “There was some bitch in the ER today complaining about how her boyfriend didn’t believe her when she told him she was pregnant. Took me a god damn hour to shut her up. Jesus, reminds me why I don’t date.”

Y/N felt her face freeze. It was like his harsh words poured ice water over her shoulders. Her skin practically crawled as Gary’s carelessness settled in. Wasn’t this a date? Or was this simply the means for Gary to get into her pants.

“Hold up,” Y/N said, gesturing with her hand held up to stop Gary’s rant, “I was under the impression this was a date. Is it not?”

Gary shrugged. “As long as there’s a happy ending with you, babe I don’t give a fuck.”

He was crass. Y/N was far from a prude. She enjoyed her time in college and didn’t mind the occasional quick one night stand when the opportunity presented itself, but there would be something completely debasing and revolting about sleeping with the man sitting before her.

“I think you’ve gotten the wrong impression.” Y/N said, her words clipped and stern: there wasn’t room for Gary to mix up any bit of her message. “I’m not looking for a fuck-buddy. And even if I was, it certainly wouldn’t be you. We’ve been sitting here for all of twelve minutes and you’ve already drank two whiskys, been rude to the waitress, insulted a patient, and offended me.”

Gary, in a lackadaisical way that could only be described as a fuckboy with the worst case of Peter Pan syndrome, shrugged his shoulders. He downed the rest of his second whisky, “You’re a frigid bitch anyway.”

He left.

And Y/N laughed. Then she ordered two slices of double chocolate cheesecake and asked the waitress where the closest liquor store was.

***

Silently, she cursed Spencer’s charming love of buildings with character. She bounded up the steps to his apartment, the plastic bag with the two slices of cheesecake banged against her leg. Her other hand clutched the neck of a cheap, screw top rose.

Her date, disastrous, was nearly comical, and she couldn’t wait to recount the details to Spencer.

They share a sort of sadistic penchant for relaying moments for their occasional first dates. Typically, Y/N had more than Spencer. On the rare occasion Spencer did have a date, Y/N found herself trying to explain that any girl in her right mind would attempt to flirt with Spencer, but he refused to see her points.

Not bothering to knock, Y/N opted to use the spare key Spencer gave her. She figured he’d either still be working at the office or would be too engrossed in his latest fantasy novel to bother answering the door.

Spencer’s apartment was painted a dusty, sage green. The farthest wall was lined with built-in bookshelves. A prewar relic, Spencer’s style mixed perfectly with the vintage quality embedded within the walls.

Up until recently, Spencer’s kitchen was hardly used. But Y/N had taken it upon herself to teach Spencer the basics in prepping meals. He was a quick study, as with almost everything he tried. And it gave her some peace knowing he would be able to provide himself something more satiating than granola bars and frozen lasagna.

“Spencer! Spence!” Y/N called out, dipping her head into Spencer’s second bedroom. There was a queen bed in there with a cream colored quilt splashed out on the bed.

On late nights spent watching old, black and white movies or binging episodes of The Twilight Zone and The X-Files, she would crash there. It was a fight for her to even concede to allow Spencer to purchase the queen bed. Y/N claimed that she was fine just sleeping on the couch, but Spencer insisted that she sleep in a bed.

And if Y/N had been born into a braver soul, she would’ve suggested they share his bed three years ago.

Spencer shuffled out of his bathroom, eyes red and weary. He wore a tattered Cal-Tech shirt and plaid pajama pants. He wore his glasses. They rested on the bridge of his nose and made him lose at least four or five years on his already young looking face.

“She’s pregnant.”

“I brought wine. And chocolate cheesecake.” Y/N replied, kicking her shoes off. “And you better have done laundry already because I am not sleeping in this dress. I feel ridiculous in it.”

Spencer’s eyes raked over Y/N’s frame, as if he was internally debating his thoughts on her outfit. His brow furrowed. “You’re date?”

“Asshole.” Y/N said, walking into the kitchen. She plucked two wine glasses from Spencer’s cabinet and two plates. “Arrogant and only wanted a quick fuck.”

His voice disappeared as he went into his room for a change of pajamas. They were freshly washed. She continued to listen to Spencer as she shut the bathroom door and changed behind. His voice was no longer muffled when she came out of the bathroom, but she did notice how Spencer’s eyes still were heavy with something unfamiliar when he looked over her baggy, old pajama-clad frame.

“You’re not the girl for that.” Spencer commented, reaching for the corkscrew. His large hands twisted around the device and the bottle of wine made a satisfying pop.

“You don’t know that.” Y/N countered, her defiance made a crop of red appear on Spencer’s cheeks. “Besides, that’s not the point. JJ’s pregnant. With that New Orleans guy’s baby?”

He nodded. It was as if grief washed over Spencer as Y/N changed the conversation. She knew that Spencer was harboring feelings for JJ. Jennifer was nearly perfect in every way. The only imperfect thing about her was that she didn’t realize how perfect Spencer was. He would’ve adored JJ if he got the chance. He nearly did.

“And how do you feel about that?”

Spencer groaned, pouring himself a healthy cup of rosé. “Unsure. It’s not like I’m going to confront her about this. She’s practically engaged to Will. And now there’s a baby in the picture? A baby who’s very well going to grow up seeing me as Uncle Spencer.”

He sounded exhausted. Y/N touched his hand and squeezed. She understood the pained loneliness that plagued Spencer’s voice. “I don’t love JJ anymore. It’s just, my whole life I felt like I was so far beyond my peers. And now? They all finally have caught up, this time the tables have turned. God, I’m excited when a girl smiles at me, let alone goes on a date with me.”

Weakly, Y/N smiled. She sipped her rose, “So it’s more of feeling like you’re far beyond in life? Despite having two PhDs and like three undergrad degrees? You’re one of the most accomplished men I know, Spencer. And we all move along at our own pace. Don’t compare JJ’s story to yours.”

He nodded, spooning a bite of the double chocolate cheesecake. “It’s just…I’m nearly 32. And now I’m watching JJ and Hotch and Morgan talk about babies and husbands and wives and houses. And I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be lucky enough to get that one day. Sometimes… I think I’m too me for anyone to fall in love with me.”

Y/N felt her heart shatter into a million little pieces as Spencer’s honest confession striked her entire system. She wanted to reach out and push away the stray curl that hooked itself in front of his eyebrow. She wanted to reach out and wipe away his tears. She wanted to tell her friend that if no one married him, she would.

She stalked off the to couch, needing a stable place to sit. Her chocolate cheesecake stuck to the roof of her mouth and the bitter rosé did nothing to remove it.

“Holy shit, Spencer. Do you not realize that you’d make any girl happy? You’ll find her one day, I know it. And if you don’t, we can just say fuck it and get married. I mean, I know it wouldn’t be romantic love, but we could at least live together. Through a big fancy party and get dressed up nice and getting drunk on mojitos with my best friend. My person? Sounds fun.”

“You mean that?” Spencer asked, half in disbelief and half in wonderment. “You mean that we’ll get married if neither of us have someone…say seven years from now?”

She must’ve drank more than she thought as she waited for Gary to ruin their date. “I meant it. But why seven?”

A smile toyed on Spencer lips. She noticed the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“It’s my lucky number.”

Her lips were so loose that it threatened to crack open her heart. She had a nasty habit of wearing that on her sleeve.

She gave Spencer a sheepish look as his eyes met hers. He looked half between incredulous and hopeful. His fingers ran across the rim of his wine glass as the wine sloshed around. It mirrored Y/N’s stomach.

“Is this idea like bad shit crazy?” Y/N asked. “I mean it. I mean, why not. It’s not so different from what we do now. Just all the time. And I’d be thrilled to be spiritually required to spend more time with you.”

“Should we….shake hands or something. I’m not the biggest fan of that, but I think my wife would serve as an exception to the rule. To every rule I’ve got?”

Y/N laughed. She felt the wine creep up a nice, warm flush against her skin. It matched the light and easy way her limbs felt. It might have very well been the wine, but there wasn’t much of anything that could trump laughing with your best friend. Especially when that best friend slipped and called you his wife.

Her feet somehow ended up in Spencer’s lap. His thumb rubbed gently against her ankle, barely touching her bare skin. Yet it sent shockwaves that she didn’t quite understand.

The corners of Spencer’s eyes crinkled as he reciprocated that laugh. They shared it and Y/N had the strangest desire to bottle it up. She wanted to store this moment in her mind and come back to it. One day. Some day.

“We’ll get married,” Spencer started speaking as if it was a prophecy that he could set in stone, “if neither of us has anyone, we’ll enter this rather odd, rather complex, yet completely entirely normal and simple marriage in seven years?” His sweet, yet coy smile was boyish, it only reminded Y/N just how far away 35 was for her.

“Should we draft up a contract?”

“Have your lawyers contact my lawyers. I never sign documents without the proper legal support. In the meantime, could we settle on our first stipulation: never watching a new episode of our current favorite show without the other?”

“I agree to the terms and conditions you’ve set out.” Y/N said. She grabbed the blanket that rested on the back of the couch as Spencer turned off the lamp light.

“Oh and I washed the sheets in your room. I used the detergent you like. And your pajamas. The lavender vanilla one with the scent beads?” He flipped on an episode of The Twilight Zone.

She smiled from the way Spencer naturally called the guest room her bedroom. There was something very domestic and peaceful about him using her favorite detergent to wash the sheets in her room in his apartment. It resembled the exact something that she was craving: being taken care of.

She sipped her rose again, watching as her friend smiled at the gray scale painted on the screen. It was too bad she only had to weight over half a decade to feel it and not feel guilty and like she was lying to herself.

—

Taglist:

@reidsbookclub @boldlyvoid @mrs-dr-reid @reid-ingandweeping @candlesandsoftrain @foxy-eva @queermaxwooo

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction

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palskippah · 1 year ago

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Hi! There are role swap AUs of them already and I love them so much, so I tried making my own too! You should know that this is entirely self-indulgent like anything else I draw askdaslds

There is Mareach and Bowuigi bc yes alskdklasd and a tiny bit of one-sided Luaisy that leads to nothing because Luigi's a married man 😔

I had other drawings of them, but they're not colored yet and I wanted to share the idea already sjsjs

Here's some ideas for this AU!

-Mario's the Mushroom Kingdom Princess and his parents are the King and Queen. Luigi used to be the other princess, green princess or green princess Mario (as in, his bro Mario, not his last name Mario 😔), but he married Bowser and became the Queen of the Darklands :y Everyone in there respects and remembers his name, he's built a really good reputation for himself by simply being himself, in this house we believe in the 'Luigi is the Darklands' hero' hc too. Their aunt and uncles (and cousin) rule Sarasaland.

-(King boo's a Darklands ally but still hates Queen Luigi from that one time he wiped clean his mansion when the king kidnapped Mario. Luigi's scared of ghosts still too, but Junior always reassures him he's gonna beat them up if they try scaring his mama (I drew it actually, I'm gonna color it too!))

-When the bros were 20 Bowser at first tried kidnapping Princess Mario, and Mario was ready to beat his ass but they ended up talking about ally-making and ruling a kingdom as Bowser just got crowned king. Mario advised him to listen to his advisor and other stuff and by the time Luigi caught the koopa ship, ready to bonk Bowser in the head with his comically large hammer, the princess and king made plans of starting a treaty.

>Anyways, they met often after that when Bowser went to plan the treat with the Mario King and Queen. Luigi fell for Bowser and Bowser fell harder and Mario regretted talking to Bowser and should have instead just beat him up. He's happy for his bro though. When they married and had Junior and adopted the koopalings he decided that he was very happy that he talked to Bowser. He loves how happy Luigi is.

-Princess Mario accomplishes many things and excels at almost anything he tries, and all the toads treat him as a hero as well as a princess and all, so his dad doesn't think he's a failure, but still bothers him by urging him to get married ever since he turned thirty. He often compares him to Luigi, who got married at 23 and in the present had eight kids with his husband. Mario doesn't give a shit about marrying soon, but wished his dad would stop being annoying. His mamma is a sweetheart as always and often tells her husband to leave him alone. King Mario is stubborn as hell though (his two boys got that from him), so he doesn't.

-Peach and Daisy are cousins and they were trying to start a business together, though they weren't still sure about what (you know as Princess Peach and Daisy have many businesses together in canon aksdla), but before they could settle anything they somehow fell in the pipe and Peach landed in the Mushroom Kingdom and Daisy in the Darklands.

-Bowser still steals the Super Star, but in hopes of giving Luigi the coolest anniversary gift ever, as it's their seventh and all that. He very often gives him all sort of things, like great statues, many many dresses and all the stuff that he knows Luigi loves. Being the himbo he is, he's genuinely concerned that Luigi wouldn't like something unless it is completely new and has never been gifted to him at all. Of course, Luigi would love anything he'd give him, because Bowser's gifts are always made with love. By the end of the things, Luigi tells Bowser so and calls him an idiot affectionally, and also makes him return the Super Star. (movie-like, you know, since this is somehow a retelling alksdlasd)

-Based on what I read at discord, if you're who wrote it, pls know that i love your ideas jsjs- Bowser has set up many statues of Luigi that are of a nice stone color and has gems in its eyes to glow under the lava and the sun when it's out. Imagine that one Luigi render where he's got an arm raised and the other nicely by his side and he's smiling, that's the main statue of Queen Luigi sjjds. They contrast greatly against Bowser's, that were made to make his fierceness stand out, unlike Luigi's that highlight his kindness.

-In the piano scene, Bowser is playing and singing and Luigi's laying on his stomach over the piano's surface (no idea if that's possible but humor me alkdalsd) and listens with the most besotted expression ever, resting his face on his palms. When Kamek interrupts them Luigi's not mad or anything, but Bowser really glares at the magikoopa.

-Junior finds Daisy and brings her to the castle, in hopes that his mama and papa will help her, because they're the greatest people in the whole world and they can do anything.

-Daisy and Luigi quickly become friends, making Bowser jealous of the other human, especially because Daisy from time to time looks at Luigi as if she like-liked him. Not that he thought Luigi had eyes for anyone else beside him, but it was still annoying. And Diasy, for all she annoyed him, seemed to fully respect that Luigi was happily married.

-Daisy teases Bowser mercilessly too, at first clueless that she's supposed to be terrified and respect this guy like everyone else does (maybe Junior takes her to him first, and completely forgetting Junior's initial rambling about his family, she doesn't realize Bowser's the king, but when she meets Luigi, she sees his crown and fancy clothes and immediately knows she gotta be respectful to this guy. She doesn't know how royals are in this lava world, after all), but she keeps doing it, knowing the koopa king may look terrifying but he's mostly bark and no bite.

-DK and Mario are friends and they often meet up to beat the shit out of the other, or sparring as it's called, I think. The first time they did it, Mario got the cat power up and destroyed DK in front of the kong king and other kongs, and since then Cranky doesn't dislike Mario so much, and the others respect him greatly too.

-Mareach,,, they look at eachother and sparkles are in there too. Peach doesn't brutally throw Mario to the ground or anything, but he loses his breath anyways because of her beauty. Also, Mario's type is beautiful tall women (and tall idiot men, maybe his dad suggests DK as a husband and Mario's like ew dad, we're just friends. Or maybe... Donkareach... I like the fics that has them, but idk for this).

-Toad as a wingman, he doesn't care how obvious he is, he's gonna make Princess Mario and his new friend Peach be together, because they clearly like-like the other.

That's all I got for now askdalsd thanks if you read my ramblings, sorry if there's mistakes in writing.

I'm gonna color the stuff I got left and maybe draw more, but knowing myself I dunno if I will anytime soon 😔 Also I go back to college the next week sadly sjsjd

Got any thoughts on the AU? Tell cuz I'd love to know c:< but only if it's nice thoughts, I'm sensitive akdalsd

#super mario bros #my art #mario mario #princess peach #princess daisy #luigi #bowser #bowser jr #bowuigi #mareach #AU #roleswap au #also the Mareach preg post is gonna take me longer than expected bc I really wanna color it all alsdkasd #sorry pipol #princess Mario is the first ever he/him princess #princess Luigi was the second #princess mario and peach marry and they become queen mario and king peach idc

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l0vergirlsw0rld · 1 month ago

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day seven: virginity | NSFW MDNI 18+

Your room was packed, every last box labelled and ready to be shipped out to your new place in the city, bright and early tomorrow morning. Your time at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters had officially come to an end. It had been about a week since graduation, and the reality of leaving behind everything you knew—your home, your friends, your routine—was finally sinking in. You’d spent years within these walls, but unlike many of your peers, the idea of becoming an educator didn’t appeal to you. Most alumni stayed to teach and guide the next generation of mutants, but that life wasn’t calling your name. Instead, you were facing the unknown, heading to a new city with a fresh set of skills and a world of possibilities ahead of you.

The hardest part about leaving wasn’t the school or the friends you’d made—it was Logan. He wasn’t just your history professor; he had somehow become the focal point of your thoughts, your desires, your deepest fantasies. From the moment you first laid eyes on him, that raw attraction had been undeniable. Being a mature student, you hadn’t connected much with your younger peers. Instead, you found yourself gravitating toward the professors, Logan most of all. His presence was magnetic, impossible to ignore, and it had been crucial to your experience at the school.

Everything changed one night when he walked in on you, humping his pillow, moaning his name like it was the only word you knew. You had been caught in the most vulnerable, embarrassing moment possible, but instead of scolding you, he had shown you how to take care of your needs, and how to keep yourself satisfied. He had promised that once you graduated, he would teach you more—far more—but until then, the tension was almost unbearable.

The lingering glances from across the room during his lectures became charged like every look was a secret between just the two of you. Ofcourse, no one else picked up on this, but you could feel the heat behind each gaze, the silent promises that were hidden just beneath the surface. Every time he locked eyes with you, that familiar jolt ran through your stomach, making it nearly impossible to focus on the subject matter. You nearly went through an entire box of pencils during that semester, eagerly chewing them down to splinters under the weight of his stare.

When you’d walk up to his desk during class to ask a question, you could feel his eyes raking over you, undressing you in his mind, drinking in every detail from the scent of your perfume to the way your skirt rode up just enough to give him a peek of what was hidden underneath. His touches were subtle—brushing fingers when you handed in your assignments, his hand resting on yours a moment too long—but each small interaction had you back in your room afterwards taking care of the mess he'd of you.

And Logan? He was just as affected as you. The restraint he showed was impressive, considering how often he found himself thinking about you—about all the things he wanted to do to you once you weren’t his student anymore.

Graduation day had been the breaking point. After the ceremony, when everyone was celebrating and caught up in their goodbyes, Logan pulled you aside into a dim, out-of-the-way electrical closet. The cap and gown you had just worn during the ceremony were still draped over your arm as he caged you against the wall, his towering frame made you feel small and vulnerable in the best way possible. Without hesitation, his lips crashed into yours—rough, hungry, claiming you as his at last.

The kiss sent shockwaves through your body, but as his hands began to roam, sliding up your sides aggressively, you froze. You had wanted this for so long, but the intensity of it all overwhelmed you. You weren’t expecting it so sudden like this. He pulled back slightly, noticing your hesitation, his eyes searching your face for an explanation.

That’s when it hit him.

“You didn't…” His voice trailed off, realization dawning in his eyes. “You’re still a virgin.”

You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Am I not supposed to be?" you asked, your voice small, unsure, not knowing what to expect next.

Logan softened at that, shaking his head gently. "No, sweetheart you're perfect. I just—forgot for a second. We’ll take this slow next time. I promise." His thumb gently caressed the back of your hand, grounding you, his rough exterior melting away for a moment as he reassured you that everything would be alright.

The anticipation had been killing you for months, and now that the moment was finally here, it felt like the world had rewired everything you knew up to this point. Logan wasn’t just the rough, battle-worn man you had known from class—he was tender, patient, and so careful with you. This was a side of him you hadn’t seen before, and it made you fall for him even more.

You hadn’t seen him since that day, and now you were leaving tomorrow. The excitement of the big move had faded, replaced by disappointment. You kept expecting him to stop by, to say goodbye, to acknowledge the unspoken connection between you two and quite frankly tie up some loose ends, but here you were, getting ready for bed, knowing you had to be up early, and Logan was nowhere to be found.

You had been home all day, waiting for him to appear, but the usual places you’d run into him—hallways, kitchen—had been strangely quiet. Normally, he was always around, close but never too close, like a shadow lingering just at arm’s reach. His absence now felt heavier than ever.

Maybe he’d chickened out. Maybe the thought of your inexperience, the fact that you were still a virgin, had repelled him. The idea made your stomach churn, a knot of anxiety twisting tighter with each passing minute. It felt hypocritical if that was truly the reason. After all, he’d been the one to tell you to wait. Indirectly, of course, but it had been clear enough. You had done what he asked—spent those lonely nights practicing what he’d taught you, learning how to please yourself, how your body responded to different touches, how you liked to be touched.

But despite the self-exploration, you still felt naïve about sex—especially with a partner. It was all so foreign, something you only knew through snippets of media and conversations you overheard. Raised in a conservative household, you had always been oblivious, and innocent when it came to sex. It left you feeling behind in experience compared to other women your age. In movies, they seemed to have it all figured out, knowing how to please men, how to be sensual, and confident. But you? You still felt like you were fumbling in the dark.

A creak from the door made your pulse quicken, your eyes snapping toward the sound. Logan stepped inside, one arm behind his back, and two champagne glasses hung between his knuckles. You sat up, surprise washing over you, your previous disappointment fading into a smile.

“Prof-” you chuckled, still adjusting to the shift from calling him ‘Professor’ to his actual name. "I mean, Logan-"

"There's my favourite graduate," he replied, his voice low and familiar, closing the door behind him. He pulled out a champagne bottle from behind his back; it looked expensive, the kind of bottle you’d only seen in fancy restaurants. The label was elegant, the bottle sleek, but it was the way his eyes lingered on yours that sent a jolt through you.

“Did you really think I'd let you leave without saying goodbye?” he teased, flashing that signature grin that always made your knees buckle.

“I was starting to,” you replied, sticking out your bottom lip in a playful pout. Logan chuckled, a deep, warm sound that filled the room. He set the glasses down on your wooden desk and, with a smooth motion, popped the cork. The loud sudden noise startled you, making you jump. Logan's presence had your nerves in a buzzing mess already making every small movement bigger than they were.

The champagne fizzed as he poured, the liquid bubbling and catching the dim light of your nearly packed-up room. He handed you a glass, and you accepted it with a shaky hand, his fingers brushing yours for a moment longer than necessary, then leaned back against your desk.

“To you and your new adventures, Y/N,” he toasted, raising his glass. You followed suit, clinking your flutes together before taking a synchronized sip. The champagne hit your tongue sharply, bubbles bursting against your palate, and you tried to hide the grimace as you swallowed. Logan caught it, grinning at you over the rim of his glass.

"Don't have to drink it if you don't like it, bub," he said, his voice teasing but soft. He took another sip of his own, watching you carefully, as though gauging every reaction.

You hesitated for a moment, looking down at the glass before setting it aside on your bedside table. “It’s not that,” you confessed, your voice quieter now, the playful banter fading into something more serious. “It’s just... a lot to take in. Leaving, I mean.”

Logan’s grin softened, and he set his glass down as well. In a few easy strides, he was sitting next to you, close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off him. He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear with a tenderness that surprised you.

“You’re ready for this,” he said, his voice low, his thumb grazing your jawline. “You’re stronger than you think. I've seen you on the field” He let out a light chuckle.

You turned to look at him, those intense hazel eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, you forgot about everything—the packed boxes, the bittersweet goodbye, the uncertainty of what came next. It was just him and you, in your room like the world had stopped and nothing else mattered.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, you reached out, hesitantly placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palm. His hand slid its way behind your lower back and grappled onto your waist, pulling you to straddle his lap. Your chests were pressed firmly against each other, he held you close with his strong grasp.

“You thought I wouldn’t come say goodbye,” he murmured, his lips inches from yours now. His breath was warm against your skin.

“You should know by now, I ain’t lettin’ you go that easy.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours—soft, warm, and patient. It was a stark contrast to the heated, desperate kiss he’d stolen in the closet on graduation day. This time, Logan was gentle, like he had all the time in the world. His lips lingered against yours, not rushing, letting you feel every second of it. Your head spun from the tenderness alone. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, the moment heavy with unspoken desire.

"I'm ready for my last lesson, professor," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you bit your lower lip, eyes searching his face.

Logan’s eyes shut instantly, a deep breath escaping him as he fought to maintain control. You were a natural and you didn't know it. You could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, his hands trembling slightly where they gripped your waist. He was trying to be careful, holding back the primal urge that threatened to overwhelm him.

But you weren’t waiting anymore.

This time, you closed the distance. Your lips found his again, more certain now, your body acting on instinct as you pressed yourself closer. The kiss was deeper and hungrier, and Logan responded immediately. "I waited so long for you," You mumbled against him. His hands gripped your sides, pulling you tighter against him as a low growl escaped his throat. Your hips moved against him of their own accord, rolling in time with the heated rhythm building between you.

"I know baby, me too," He said between breaths.

His fingers dug into your skin, rough and possessive, making your breath hitch. You hooked your arms around his neck, pulling yourself forward desperate to close every inch of space between you. His mouth slanted over yours, his tongue sliding in to explore, sending a shiver down your spine that made you gasp into him.

You could feel the heat building between you, his control fraying at the edges, but even now, he was still holding back—just enough to let you lead. His restraint was palpable, his body tense with the effort of not giving in completely. Yet his touch was firm, grounding you, while his kiss sent your thoughts spiralling.

Logan let himself fall back onto the bed, pulling you down with him in a gentle motion. The mattress squeaked beneath the two of you, but you didn’t break the kiss, your lips still moving against his, tasting and exploring. Your knees dug into the bed, your body pressing flush against his as you felt the ache between your thighs intensify. The heat was almost unbearable now, soaking through your panties and dampening the fabric of your pyjama pants.

When you finally pulled back to catch your breath, your eyes locked onto his, heavy with lust. You shifted your hips slightly, feeling the hard length of him pressing against you through his jeans. The sensation sent a thrill through you, making your pulse quicken. Logan groaned, his large hands snapping to your hips, halting your movements.

"Be gentle," he rasped, voice thick with restraint. "It’s sensitive."

You glanced down at the unmistakable bulge in his jeans, curiosity sparking in your chest. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you let your finger trace the outline of him, feeling the hardness beneath the rough denim. Logan’s hips bucked under your touch, a shuddered breath escaping him. His reaction sent a rush of adrenaline through you, your confidence growing.

"Wanna see it?" he asked, his voice low and filled with need as he watched your curious expression.

You nodded eagerly, biting your lip as you shifted back to give yourself space. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle in your nervousness. Logan’s hands came up to help you, his fingers working skillfully to undo the belt and slide it out of the loops with ease. You subconsciously pouted, disappointed at your incompetence.

"Here, like this. Watch how I do it, sweetheart," He murmured.

As the tension between you both crackled, the moment felt charged—intimate and electric. You watched his hands, so sure and steady, and your heart raced as the barrier between you and him began to fade.

Logan’s fingers worked slowly, deliberately unbuttoning his jeans before pulling the zipper down, tooth by tooth, the sound drawing your full attention. Your breath hitched as the fabric parted, revealing the waistband of his black briefs beneath. The bulge was even more prominent now, straining against the material, and your pulse quickened at the sight.

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband, lifting his hips off the bed with ease, even with you still straddling him. With a smooth motion, he kicked his jeans off, leaving him in nothing but his briefs. Your eyes were glued to the sight before you, heart pounding in your chest as the heat between your legs intensified. The fabric stretched tight over his length, making it impossible to ignore. Every inch of your focus zeroed in on that spot, the anticipation making your fingertips tingle.

You slipped a hand beneath the waistband, feeling the heat of his skin and the rough texture of his coarse hair as you tugged his briefs down. Logan lifted his hips slightly, helping you ease them off, his movements smooth and controlled. As the fabric slid away, his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip flushed an angry red with arousal, glistening faintly.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight. He was long, his shaft thick and veined, each ridge curving along the sides. The weight of it, the sheer size, sent a thrill through you, anticipation bubbling in your chest.

You had never seen a man's private parts until now, and while it was an unfamiliar sight, the rush of curiosity and arousal overshadowed any hesitation. "It's so big... and it's supposed to go inside me, right?" you asked, a shy blush creeping across your cheeks.

Logan's lips curved into a gentle, empathetic smile, his large hand moving in soothing circles on your thigh. "Yes, but we need to take our time, sweetheart. I have to get you ready first. Don’t want to hurt my pretty girl." His voice was low and calming, filled with a warmth that made your heart race even more. Logan was determined to make you feel as safe and comfortable as possible, as he'd been fantasizing about pleasuring you since the moment you walked through the school doors.

With a swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, towering over you like a warm, protective shadow. His length swayed as he caged you beneath his size, and he drank in the sight of your docile frame before leaning down to give you a quick, tender kiss.

“Let’s get these off, yeah?” he murmured against you before sitting back on his heels. He slid your silk pyjama shorts down your legs, and the cool air sent goosebumps racing across your skin. When your shorts pooled around your ankles, he paused, taking in the sight of your pink bow panties, already soaked with anticipation.

Logan let out a low, appreciative groan, his eyes darkening with desire. He leaned down, planting soft kisses that trailed up from your feet to your pelvis, igniting every nerve in your body with each deliberate touch. You squirmed underneath him, nipples already rock hard brushing against your matching pyjama top.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Y/N," he cooed, his gaze shifting from your clothed heat to lock onto your eyes. Logan hovered mere inches from your core, the heat radiating between you palpable. He traced his fingers along the delicate lace, a look of admiration etched on his face, before gripping the fabric and gently pulling it aside, exposing your glistening folds to him.

"Oh my god," he breathed in awe, captivated by the sight before him. You were absolutely perfect—everything he had imagined and more. Aesthetically, you embodied everything he found irresistible, and the sweet, intoxicating scent of you filled his senses, igniting his primal urges. Every inch of you seemed to beckon him closer, pulling him into a whirlwind of desire he could no longer resist.

His hands pressed your thighs wider apart, thumbs parting your folds as he buried his head in your thighs. The initial contact of his tongue against you made you gasp, but Logan held you firm, anchoring you to him. His warm tongue glided effortlessly along your slick skin, drawing out a moan that echoed in the quiet room. The taste of you was just as intoxicating as your scent, melting on his tongue as he took his time exploring every nook and cranny, savouring your sweetness and mapping your most sensitive spots with deliberate strokes

You couldn’t contain the moans escaping your lips, each one more desperate than the last. This sensation was beyond anything you’d experienced before—far better than your fingers could ever offer. It was wet, warm, and utterly addictive. Logan’s facial hair brushed against your inner thighs, a teasing contrast to the heat of his mouth as he moved rhythmically up and down your core. When his tongue found your clit, swollen and eager from the excitement, it sent electric shivers through you. He swirled his tongue around it, then flicked the tip with sharp, rapid strokes, each one making your insides quiver and your breath hitch. You instinctively bucked your hips against his face, driven by a primal urge as your body craved release, desperate for that sweet climax you had grown familiar with.

He chuckled against you, his face glistening with your juices, a testament to how much he enjoyed the moment. The way your body responded to his every touch was intoxicating; Logan had never been with someone as inexperienced or young as you, and he etched each moment into his memory, savouring the connection between you.

He quickened his pace, working on you with precision—just fast enough to send you spiralling but not so fast as to overwhelm you. You gripped the sheets tightly, your knuckles turning white as the familiar pressure in your stomach began to intensify, building like a wave ready to crash.

His skillful tongue worked wonders, creating sensations your fingers could never replicate. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking gently while still flicking his tongue, pushing you closer to the edge with each rhythmic pull. The combination of hollowing his cheeks and that delicious tongue was simply too intense.

“Logan, I think I’m going to—” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as the pleasure surged through you.

But just as you felt that dizzying peak approach, he pulled away, leaving you gasping for more. You let out a needy whine as you watched him wipe your juices off his chin, drunk off of the endorphins. Logan watched you with a smirk as you tried to recalibrate your senses to the world around you.

"I'm not gonna let you cum just yet, princess," he rasped, barely able to contain the enjoyment that radiated from him. Once he wiped his face clean, he resumed his position above you, capturing your lips in a deep kiss that sent warmth coursing through your veins.

As you melted into the kiss, his fingers deftly worked at the buttons of your pyjama top, each one releasing a wave of anticipation. You moaned softly into his mouth as his knuckles brushed against the flushed skin of your chest, igniting a spark of desire that had been simmering beneath the surface.

With a fluid motion, he slid the top off, revealing your breasts to the soft glow of your room. A low groan escaped his lips, vibrating against yours as his calloused hands cupped your soft curves, a perfect contrast to the smoothness of your skin. His touch was reverent as if he were savouring the moment, committing every detail to memory.

He worked his hands against you, his thumbs teasingly circling your pebbled nipples, drawing a gasp from your lips and making you arch your back in response. Your skin burned beneath his touch, an ache for more that was impossible to ignore. His lips moved against yours hungrily, enveloping you in a haze of desire that blurred your thoughts and ignited your senses.

With a sudden urgency, he pulled away, his gaze hungry as he descended to your breasts. "They're so perfect," He left a wet trail of kisses in his wake, his lips planting soft marks against your skin. His mouth worked expertly, alternating between gentle kisses and playful nibbles, each sensation sending shivers down your spine. You could feel the heat continuously pooling within you, building with every touch as he lavished attention on you, savouring every curve and contour.

One of his hands wrapped around his length, giving it a few firm strokes before he knelt between your legs. He leaned closer, positioning himself just where you needed him. With a slow, deliberate motion, he gathered some of your slicks that dripped from your core, using it to coat his throbbing cock. A low grunt escaped his lips as he worked himself, sliding effortlessly against your juices, the warmth of your essence making him ache with desire. The primal connection between you intensified as he readied himself, anticipation crackling in the air

"It'll hurt a little at first, we'll go slow." He teased you with the tip of his cock, rubbing it gently along your folds, each deliberate movement igniting a mix of anticipation and nervousness within you. Your heart raced, fully aware that this was the moment when your former history professor would take your virginity. A loving hand caressed your side, grounding you before he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance. Your breath hitched, and your body instinctively tensed beneath him, bracing for the pain that you anticipated. But beneath that tension was a flutter of excitement, a spark of something new, waiting to be ignited.

With a slow, careful push, he slid his length inside you, a low groan escaping his gritted teeth. "You're so fucking tiny- fuck,"

"Is-ah, that bad?" You managed to get out. The sensation of being filled was overwhelming; you felt exquisitely tight around him, the intense pressure driving him deeper. Your breath became shallow and rapid as you felt your body stretching around his firmness, a blend of pleasure and pain coursing through you. Each inch he sank in heightened the intensity, leaving you teetering on the edge of ecstasy and discomfort. "No baby, it's so good, you're doing so good." Logan paused for a moment, his gaze locked onto yours, gauging your reaction as he allowed you to adjust to the fullness of him.

"Try to relax; it'll feel good soon, I promise." he encouraged softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the tension. You focused on taking deep breaths, feeling your chest expand and deflate as you forced yourself to loosen up. Slowly, you felt the tightness around him begin to ease, and he pressed deeper, reaching the hilt. The sensation of his dark curls brushing against your sensitive clit sent a sharp jolt through your body. "Logan!" You gasped.

Logan began with a few gentle thrusts, allowing you to acclimate to the new friction. With each movement, the pain gradually faded, replaced by a growing warmth that pulsed through you as his thrusts became more pronounced. "See? Feels good huh baby?" He grinned, he loved making you feel good.

Your moans synchronized with each thrust, a symphony of pleasure filling the air. Every time he brushed against your cervix, a wave of ecstasy surged through you, electrifying every nerve ending. As he finally found a steady rhythm, his thrusts grew stronger which made you wetter, the slickness dripping down your thighs in a delicious cascade.

Logan moved inside you effortlessly, each stroke rubbing against sensitive spots you never knew existed. His curved length skillfully targeted your G-spot, sending you spiraling into a realm of bliss. With each hit, you threw your head back in pure ecstasy, your knees trembling as he drove you closer to the edge, the pleasure becoming overwhelming and intoxicating. You needed more.

"Logan!"

Your arms snaked around his torso tightly, nails digging into his defined back muscles as his hips snapped against you. He lowered his head between your collar and jaw, his warm breath falling against your sensitive skin.

"You feel too good baby, I don't know if I can last." He murmured against you as he lowered his hand to your clit, his thick calloused thumb settling on it and circling it slowly.

The sensation made your toes curl, as that familiar heat began to overfill your senses. He rutted against you, deep. The sound of wet skin slapping against skin filled your room along with the rhythmic squeaking of your matress. You bit into logans shoulder instinctively as his pace turned inhuman, following with the movement on your clit. Stars began to flood your vision as his shaft worked inside you, edging him closer to his release as well.

"It's happening!" You mumbled, teeth sinking into his salty flesh as your walls twitched against his length. He felt you squeeze around him frantically as you reached your peak pushing him closer to his as well. He fucked you through your orgasm as warm tears slid down your cheeks, the two sensations being too much to handle, you moaned eagerly as the familiar delight washed over you, draining the heat from your body. Logan watched as your face contorted in relief as you came around him; your brows knitting together, eyes shut closed and your thighs locked him deep inside you. This was enough to get him off, he pulled out frantically and gave his cock a few strokes as he painted your stomach with his warm white ribbons. His seed splattered up to your chin, your face pulling back in surprise from the sudden contact.

"Fuck—" he moaned, bucking mindlessly against his hand as he gradually regained his senses. Both of your chests heaved, desperate for oxygen as the intoxicating heat of passion settled between you. This had been an exhilarating journey, your first official introduction to sex, and the thrill of it left you eager for more.

Logan caught his balance, pressing a palm into the mattress as he inhaled deeply, his eyes still glazed with lingering desire. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the aftermath of your shared intimacy enveloping you both in a cocoon of satisfaction. You exchanged a look, a silent acknowledgment that this moment was just the beginning of something deeper.

As you both caught your breath, the silence in the room was filled only by the soft sound of your panting. Logan shifted slightly, propping himself up on his elbows to gaze down at you. His expression was a mix of satisfaction and tenderness, the aftermath of the heat still evident in his eyes. He placed a kiss on your shoulder.

“You still with me?” he asked, his voice low and concerned, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You nodded, a shy smile creeping onto your lips. “Yeah, I'm here,” you replied, the thrill of the experience still buzzing through your veins.

Logan chuckled softly, the sound warm and inviting. “Good. Looks like you enjoyed it as much as I did.” He smirked, a playful glint in his eyes as he flexed his muscles, still aware of the weight of his body pressing against you.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension of the moment dissolving into something softer, more intimate. “You're right...I'm glad you were my first,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly.

He shifted again, pulling you closer, his bare skin warm against yours. “I like that." He said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You know, I'm supposed to visit the city soon,”

His words sent a delightful shiver down your spine, and you felt your heart swell with excitement and affection. You reached up to trace your fingers along his jaw, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips.

“You'll come to see me?” you proposed, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

Logan raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Sure, I I can squeeze you in, or should I say squeeze in you,” he replied with a chuckle, leaning down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

The kiss deepened, a sweet promise of what was to come, and you melted into him. As you both pulled away, a comfortable silence enveloped you, the kind that felt safe and inviting.

“Want me to stay here for a bit?” he suggested, his voice laced with sincerity. “We can talk, or just enjoy the quiet.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I’d like that,” you replied, settling into his embrace, your body still tingling with the aftereffects of your shared intimacy.

As the moonlight spilled into the room, wrapping around you like a soft blanket, you felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. This moment, this connection, was something you had never anticipated but were now wholly grateful for. The night stretched ahead, filled with possibilities, and you knew you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here, in Logan’s arms.

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thesharktanksdriver · 5 months ago

Text

Specs of Stardust (platonic)

I really can’t wait to get to determination! Y/n and the straw hats so instead I thought I’d post little interactions/headcanons of some of the stuff they’d do

I swear I’m working on the Roger pov it’s just this popped into my head and sometimes switching between things in writing helps with my burnout

Masterlist for the series here

Tagged: @peachsuka28 @emptynessinmyworld @badluckinfrench @j-s-l-m @tigerfang-rage @madokamagicaa @rymtea @angstylittleb1tch @badluckinfrench @emmbny @kenkenmaaa @yunho-leeknow @chibiduck @spqce-bun @coca-cola-fiend @Koifishpoond

Luffy

The best way to describe these two in a room is that Luffy does something stupid and y/n just goes with the flow following him

The rabid golden retriever and the chill black cat

The dumbass duo, rabid dumbass and chill dumbass

Once did the impossible and shared food with y/n because they gave him a dessert Sanji made (the rest of the crew thought they were mass hallucinating)

Y/n gives him cool rocks that they find, they’ve both now made it a goal to collect a rock from every place they go

Gives y/n piggyback rides 24/7

And no one else can give y/n piggyback rides cause that’s captains privilege apparently

Occasionally when going into battle he gives y/n his straw hat to keep safe

Has semi-adopted one of y/n’s crows named Aurelius which he aptly calls Steve. Aurelius does not like him nor being called Steve

Aurelius keeps pecking at him but Luffy thinks it’s showing affection

Both throw caution to the wind about their own personal safety but if the other is hurt they will pummel someone

When he accidentally ends up in the ocean y/n jumps in after to save him forgetting they’ll sink too

Y/n acts a distraction for Sanji so Luffy can raid the fridge at 3 am

When y/n sleeps in the male quarter (they do regular switches between the female and male sleeping quarters) he has y/n tell him stories to make him go to bed easier

Likes to make y/n laugh

Likes to pinch Luffy cause they think it’s funny how he’s rubber

When Luffy says something really stupid sometimes y/n likes to write it down in a journal exclusively called “Luffy quotes”

So far some of y/n favourites are “the colour orange is named after oranges”, “if I get reincarnated I wanna be a clam”, “I am rubber and you are fat, don't you dare touch my hat” and “if you hungry, eat”

Sometimes the two of them make weird animal calls to scare Ussop

Speaking of the two, unfortunately for the rest of the crew they now have to deal with Luffy’s pranks now getting worse because y/n actually helps him plan them now

Ussop still has nightmares of when he woke up covered in bird seed and was almost taken away by the flock

As does Sanji when he realizes he’s been betrayed by y/n who’s let Luffy raid the fridge once more

Sometimes y/n likes to ask him about his childhood, they find it so oddly funny that he’s the son of Dragon, grankid of Garp, became brother of Ace and was semi-adopted by shanks

They also like to hear about it cause they always worried Ace wouldn’t find good people

Luffy whines it’s unfair y/n doesn’t fully die in water like he would before being smacked on the head by either Nami or Sanji

When having to give history exposition y/n is the only one who can dumb it down so Luffy can understand and pay attention for over 2 seconds

Sometimes will proceed to forget y/n asleep on his back and jump into battle

Even when finding out y/n is immortal has still not figured out their connection with Ace or Roger

Both like to sit on the figure head of the ship and occasionally nap there

By doing this not have fell off several times only for Zoro to save them

Luffy just kinda somehow know how y/n is feeling and y/n similarly knows how Luffy is feeling

Instead of buying Luffy stuff y/n just shares whatever they get with him since they have relatively the same taste in nick knacks

Similarly Luffy kinda just shares his stuff with them in return

The Luffy and y/n stuff pile is ever growing

Luckily Nami has not yet found out about it

Ussop on the other hand has and is joining in on the stuff pile

As does chopper

No one can really distinguish who’s stuff was who’s anymore but they don’t care

They now have an entire storyline happening with different characters

Y/n has a new journal for this exclusively for lore

Both are always hungry, while Luffy is open about it y/n isn’t

Somehow though Luffy caught onto this and now demands for for the both of them

“Shishishishi tell me another one!” Your captain says excitedly rocking back and forth as you both sit on the merrys figurehead, smiling you nod thinking of what to tell him “have I told you about the time I met a samurai?”

You jolt awake with a small groan as you lift your head off of resting in the crook of Luffy’s neck, the sounds of battle now invading your ears. “Luffy did you have to get the marines attention when I was sleeping on your back?” At hearing this the boy pauses, his extended out rubber arm hitting a marine in the face sending the guy flying back “shishi sorry”. At that you can’t help but sigh, he most definitely wasn’t.

Sitting at the table you watch as Luffy lists off the entire menu to the poor waiter, the retail worker shaking in their boots as he seemingly finishes and their gaze turns to you. “Oh, I’m fine-“ before you can finish Luffy cuts you off with a blinding grin “they’ll have the same as me!” And then you see the waiter’s hope drain even more impossibly so from their eyes.

Zoro

Mihawks reluctant kids that ended up on his island and he accidentally adopted duo

Before knowing their immortal he thought that they were mihawks secret love child or something after baratie

Bribes y/n with sword lessons if they side with him against Sanji

Sometimes the two of them switch bandana’s

When he naps sometimes y/n joins him, when this happens he makes sure to take a protective hold of them just in case of turbulent waves

Other times when he naps he’ll wake up with an umbrella set up for him

Doesn’t know it’s y/n and Chopper who put flowers in his hair when he’s knocked out and assumes it’s Sanji which leads to a yelling match

Speaking of chopper, both he and y/n like to hang off of Zoro’s arms like monkey bars and zoro uses them as weights when he’s doing push ups

When he ends up lost y/n somehow has the miraculous uncanny ability to find him

But sometimes when he gets lost y/n ends up joining him for fun

Has kept y/n from unknowingly being mauled by wild animals because for some reason they either love or hate y/n

Likes to ask them about any swordsmen they’ve met on their journeys

The one who typically has to save Luffy and y/n when they end up in water

Y/n likes to joke that he and Sanji are an old divorced couple to others on the crew much to his chagrin

Zoro’s actually pretty observant of y/n due to their instinct to shrug off injuries

Y/n calls out this hypocrisy but it doesn’t change anything

He actually really ends up liking y/n’s flock when the murder of crows occasionally stop by

The one he really connects with though is one named Acantha

She likes to perch on his scabbards and seems to almost guard them when he’s not around

Y/n once fell down the stairs and he almost had a heart attack

After this he instinctively watches to make sure they don’t fall again

When y/n has nightmares and cries in their sleep he almost always ends up waking up

It keeps him up at night

The mornings after he subtly tries to keep an eye on them to see if their ok

Y/n about to fight a one off villain and being confused they ran off without them doing anything, Zoro behind them glaring with his swords out at said villain

Whenever y/n is on look out duty he typically volunteers to do it with them or take over for them

Sometimes game stares off into space he gets their attention by flicking their forehead

Has and continues to use y/n as an arm rest since chopper is too short in comparison

Has fell asleep while doing this but is always woken up by Sanji yelling at him

Will either carry y/n slung over his shoulder or tucked between his arm and side

Y/n constantly wonders how he talks with a sword in his mouth

Or how he came up with that idea in the first place

Sometimes when they end up islands y/n buys him sword themed things, like sword polish or even a small rack to display them

In return Zoro buys y/n journaling gear since he sees them sometimes writing in a small diary and also gets them things that he notices catches their eye

….100% bought y/n the journal of Uta that needs a password and when opened loudly plays a low quality version of Genesis

He regrets this decision when he’s woken up to it at 3 am

“Y/n where are we? Luffy said he’d meet us around this time in the centre of this town” the green haired swordsman says looking around at the people who were also in the same abandoned building as the two of you. They all looked weird, one was a big muscle dude, another looked like a ninja with pink hair, a samurai, a blond dude in a tracksuit and some weirdo with a forehead tattoo. “Zoro how do we always end in situations like this?” You ask.

“I’ll teach you more sword tricks if you agree with me next time Swirly brows gets in a fight with me” he says suddenly waking up from his nap as you rested tucked between his arm, for a moment there’s silence and then you nod making him give an almost vicious grin towards the kitchen of the merry.

“So wait, you thought I was mihawks kid?” You question with an eyebrows quirked up, zoro with a bit of embarrassment nods. “Well, I assumed so since he gave you that little blade of yours” he says pointing a finger to Mihawks gift currently in its scabbard “but he just gave me a sword? How does that make you think I’m his kid?”. He gives you an impressed stare, “Mihawk does not just gift anyone anything let alone a sword plus whatever else he gave you. Doesn’t help that he acted like your damn dad afterwards” and after hearing that you let out a small “oh”.

Sanji

The seafood duo, aka the 5 michelin star chef and the kid who once boiled and ate their own boots (it was not tasty but they did it)

Since Sanji was the first strawhat encountered who knew y/n previously (the others being Chopper, Brook and Jimbe) he Was the first one to know about y/n’s immortality due to his prior experience with them

So it’s safe to say that he takes that secret to heart especially when y/n says they aren’t quiet ready to reveal themself just yet

It still felt too soon and they wanted to be treated normal for a bit longer (their words not his)

So he respects that decision even if he knows Luffy and the others wouldn’t make it a big deal

If anything Luffy would probably think it’s cool and move on

But even if that’s his opinion he swears to keep that secret until their comfortable

And he does so with the upmost respect he can and even covers for y/n sometimes

Due to knowing y/n he’s also the one who worries for them the most, especially when realizing the stories they once told on that island have become more fractured in time

Even their memory of that place is much more hazy

Like a film put over a picture, changing its focus and making it blurry

So he does his best to remind y/n, adding in the details he remembers them now forgetting as they write down the stories

Bribes y/n like Zoro to help win arguments via making them any sweet or desert of their fancy

When y/n is aimlessly pacing around deck he has them help out in the kitchen quite a bit!

Typically he has them help with preparing small things but lets them help with bigger tasks once learning they have some prior kitchen experience

At a port he got y/n an apron that matched his and he had Nami embodier it with their name

Is going insane trying to figure out y/n’s preferences because they say their literally fine with anything

Has made them go through entire taste tests and still cannot figure anything out

He’s chainsmokes more than usual after yet another failed test when y/n says they don’t mind salted black liquorice

Cries and chain smokes when y/n tells him they once boiled and ate their own boots

Almost cried when they pick up on some of his French words

Calls y/n stuff like “petite étoile” and “petite lueur”

After Alabasta y/n joking calls him “Mr. Prince” from time to time

Whenever he makes stuff for Nami and Robin he also makes some for y/n

When Luffy complains about this he always says “women and children come first”

Y/n sometimes clings to his legs, he always chuckles and lets them do so unless it’s dangerous

The only one allowed to raid the kitchen for snacks other than Chopper is y/n

Both of them abuse this privilege but he can’t resist their combined puppy eyes

Once finding out through Luffy that y/n is more hungry than they say they are he now makes them bigger portions

He swears they have a similar stomach to Luffy but he can’t be mad at them

Not when they seem to starve themself rather than tell others their hungry

Due to this he now carries small snacks just in case

Wants to meet whoever “Thatch” is so they can trade recipes and have a cook off

Also to find out through him how he feeds over 1000 people cause he has 2000 stomachs due to the combined forces of Luffy and y/n

Was at first iffy about the crows until a bunch of the birds started eating the leftover scraps he couldn’t incorporate into dishes or was going bad

So he grows to like the feathered flock since they help in not wasting anything

His favourite is one named Blanche who’s an albino crow the murder adopted as their own after finding her abandoned

She reminds him of a dove and of how he too was abandoned by a previous family but found a new one

She also delivers letters back fourth from Zeff for him

He adds a little blue ribbon tied to her leg

When staying in the boys quarters y/n often times has Sanji help them in taking care of themself properly

Mostly cause y/n would just pass out on the floor or stay up till 6 pm if not

Brushes y/n’s hair if Nami or Robin doesn’t do it

Also loves to style it via y/n’s suggestion

let’s y/n borrow his clothes when seeing that Nami had to drag them to a clothing store to actually buy them something other than the clothes they wear everyday

Sanji will never admit it but sometimes he has nightmares of when they had died and on those nights silently checks to make sure their still there

Y/n will never admit to him how many times they’ve starved to death alone on their raft

Mostly for his own peace of mind and their own

Y/n likes to buy Sanji food themed stuff like magnets, dishes and keychains

Sanji meanwhile buys them candies and other odd things he’d think y/n would like, for example Hawaiian shirts and plushies

“Petite étoile! I made you something!” Sanji yelled across the deck, looking towards him you see a Soda float on a small platter. Luffy eyes it hungrily though Sanji notices and he swiftly knocks the young captain with his leg. You giggle out a “thanks Sanj” which makes the swirly browed preen in a mixture of pride and genuine happiness.

“And that’s when…..” pausing in your story you try to think back, the details of which now seemed to escape you. Sanji clears his throat, giving you a sad smile as he then adds in for you “that’s when the musician taught you piano” at that your memory jogs slightly and you smile “and ukulele”

Sitting at the table you eye the small labeled plates with different tastes and textures, all tasted good and even if it didn’t you’d still eat it. But despite that Sanji sits across from you with a defeated look on his face, cigarette sitting numbly in his mouth. “Sanji it’s on really, I’m fine with anything” at saying this his temper seems to flare ever so slightly, something that reminds you of Zeff “you have to have some preference!”. “Well I mean…I ate my boots before. Nothing can be worse than that” once more that seemed to be the wrong thing to say as the cigarette falls from his mouth as he mutters “you what?!?”

Nami

The orange blossom pair

Is one of the first to pick up on the fact y/n might be immortal due to Arlong one day talking about a human child on the sun pirates boat before one that had betrayed them

At the time Nami wrote it off though, more horrified at the fact y/n was a pirate

It brought up a lot of memories of her childhood she does not like to reminisce on

But before joining the crew and after she tends to stick nearby y/n as a big sister presence

Not hovering over their shoulder but just far enough away to watch and make sure their ok

Especially when she wasn’t initially sure if Luffy and Zoro

To be honest Nami always wanted to be a big sister, especially since she in a way wants to make up for everything Nojiko went through due to her

So she takes to caring for y/n the best she can

Especially when seeing that y/n does not to care of themself at all

She’s plain horrified at how they walk off a broken leg, haven’t had a bath in months that wasn’t in salt water, doesn’t care for their hair and leaves stuff stuck in it, along with essentially starving themself sometimes

Nami quickly makes it a goal to change that with the efforts of Sanji

She gives y/n “discounts” when she charges the crew for stuff

The discount is actually free because she’d feel too guilty in charging a child

Along with the fact that y/n spends the pocket money she gives them on gifts for everyone but themself

Speaking of which she charges said person who got a gift with an import fee because that money the gift was purchased with was technically Nami’s

The only one who does not object to this fee is Sanji

Another fee she makes is a y/n hug fee, since as y/n’s appointed big sister she thinks y/n should be compensated for being hugged by a bunch of stinky boys

Teaches y/n about Tangerines and oranges, specifically how to grow them!

Likes to peel oranges for y/n and share them together as a snack as they ramble on about a place they’ve been

In the small garden for her fruits she lets y/n plant some hibiscus plants that y/n cryptically says reminds them of a friend they miss

Is confused as fuck how y/n seems to know almost all the islands they end up on

After finding out y/n is immortal she often asks about past navigators they’ve met and some of the most interesting places they’ve been to

Has to drag y/n to take them shopping because they insist their fine with one pair of clothes

She argues otherwise and can’t help but bristle once finding out their immortal that for years they’ve worn the same thing

It reminds her too much of her childhood, of Bellemere scraping together what she could even when the villagers gave her discounts for clothes

Buys them an entire wardrobe and complains when they borrow the other crews clothes

In reality she doesn’t mind and finds it cute

Has to fashion police y/n because they have no sense of shame and will wear the most god awful combinations of clothes

When y/n sleeps in the girls quarters Nami has their bed set up to be in the middle between her and Robin

That way if a night attack happens y/n is the most safe

And that way Nami can wake them up when their having a nightmare

Carries y/n like throwing a moneybag over her shoulder, it’s partially due to reflex and cause when she has to do this it’s typically in a shit situation

Y/n sometimes sees a small pink spark over Nami’s shoulder when she gets really excited

They haven’t told her yet though

Y/n likes to show Nami the stuff they’ve collected over the years

Especially their jewelry gifted to them

Nami from the moment of meeting the flock saw money signs (lol)

The crows have now been ordered to steal stuff and they bring it to her to examine and evaluate

They also heckle the poor news birds into giving discounts or plain for free

Besides their monetary gain she genuinely likes their presence quite a bit

They not only valiantly guard her tangerines from other less behaved animals but also help her in charting islands

Her favourite is one named Axel, he’s on the older side with a scar across his eye

He not only has an eye for valuable things but also acts as a guard for both the young fledglings and Nami

Y/n likes buying Nami jewelry and navigation gear along with sharing their writing supplies with her

Nami meanwhile buys y/n clothes and some jewelry for them

Sitting beneath the tangerine tree you watch as the hibiscus you planted for Rouge sway lightly In the breeze, your gaze lingers there before Nami lightly touches your shoulder making you jolt. “Here” she offers you a peeled tangerine with a smile, you take it popping the sweat fruit into your mouth. “How much will I owe you?” You ask enjoying the sweet taste, at that she laughs “I need a tester to make sure my product is good. Just consider it free since you’re doing me a favour”. Smiling you nod, not commenting how Sanji would be the better pick for this “job”.

“I still don’t get how you’d gone so long with no other pairs of clothes” Nami mutters whilst holding up two pairs of shirts your size “which do you like? Or do you want both?”. Looking at the clothes you point to the one held up by her left hand, the Hawaiian shirt with a funky pattern. “I knew you’d pick this one” her eyes are layered in fondness even if she gives a small sigh “I’m a creature of habit….besides Mihawk gave me those pyjamas so technically I now have more than one pair”

Waking up to from nightmare your typically used to the sight of the night sky but you awake with Nami’s worried face. Shakily you sit up, “h-hey I’m ok” it’s more said for her sake rather than your own. Despite your words Nami pulls you close, silently letting you clutch onto her like a lifeline as the scent of oranges and tangerines linger as does that small spark of pink just above her shoulder.

Ussop

The story teller duo! Aka the liar and the immortal

Honestly Ussop and y/n are a little dynamic duo of scaredy cat and unfazed who’s dragging the other into a haunted house

Except the haunted house in this case is literally every dangerous situation known to man

Poor Ussop has got it cut out for him more than usual when y/n is around

Something he notices fairly quickly

But he’s too committed in looking cool in front of them and cause he sure as hell isn’t leaving them alone for more than 15 minutes cause they’ll for sure somehow traumatize someone

Another thing he picked up on lol

There’s a Recurring joke with him and y/n when y/n remembers something important at the last minute and he yells that they have the memory of a goldfish

Though y/n’s title is the straw hats storyteller, they really like listening to Ussop’s stories

Though they knows his is fake they enjoy it better that way

Because that means there’s always a happy ending

Something that not all of their stories have

Similarly, though he sometimes gets afraid when they tell their stories, Ussop really likes listening to theirs as well

Mostly for the fact that though some of them are sad their genuinely heart touching most of the time

Y/n tells their tales in a way that captivates just about everyone around them

Something Ussop really admires

Both know and acknowledge each others skills

And sometimes the two of them will collaborate together in figuring out how to make their adventures more engaging when written down

Y/n and Ussop sometimes do commentary when watching Sanji and Zoro fight

Ussop during these commentary of the fighting matches writes down his favourite insults that he and y/n then giggle about later on

Their favourite so far is when Sanji called Zoro Durian in both appearance and smell

Ussop is the one to help y/n in their “disguises”

Aka supplying the fake moustaches

In similar fashion y/n helped make him the SogeKing mask before Water 7

Ussop has y/n test out his inventions and has them teach him new hobbies

To keep from the ever looming fear away Ussop tries to keep himself busy

Something y/n is a pro at and helps him pick up some of the hobbies they’ve learned over the years

On Sundays y/n teaches him and Robin how to do Pottery

Which helps out Sanji because of the amount of broken plates due to Luffy is uncountable

Calls y/n the first mate of the Ussop pirates

He will never admit it but when he misses Ninjin, Tamanegi and Piiman he ends up lingering near y/n cause they sometimes remind him of his old “crew”

Speaking of which y/n is the only one who he talks to about how much he sometimes misses syrup village

Specifically Kaya

Along with this he also confides to them about how he wonders if his dad would be proud of him or disappointed

It doesn’t happen often but occasionally it does really weight on him

But he trusts y/n’s judgment because they’ve met Yassop, and in the fact that they understand what it’s like to miss people

When this happens y/n also confides in Ussop about the people they miss too

Even people they don’t remember

It’s actually pretty sweet especially since on those nights the two of them just talk about how they genuinely feel

Something that is kinda rare for the two

To enhance each other’s stories the two now have started doing puppet shows!

Something they have Nami and Chopper help with in making the puppets

Ussop even made a mini stage out of popsicle sticks

Y/n uses Roger’s coat as the curtain

Ussop Is terrified of the crows especially after that time y/n and Luffy covered him in birdseed and was almost flown away by the murder

Along with superstitions he’s heard about them being bad luck

But the crows love him

Like they really love him, almost as much as chopper

It’s god damn comical watching him run away in terror meanwhile these little feathered fiends are chasing after him with puppy eyes asking for love

The only crows he likes are the baby ones

The little fledglings who (unfortunately for him) find perching on his nose to be the most optimal of places

But their cute as hell so he lets it slide

For now

This then perpetuates the cycle of them growing older and him being terrified of them but them loving him

Y/n finds it funny as hell

But he eventually comes around to them when y/n has them exchange letters between him and Kaya

As well as sending gifts and flowers back to syrup without the items getting lost or rotting

sometimes y/n and Ussop swap headscarves

Y/n likes to buy Ussop random stuff for him to use in inventions

Ussop likes to buy y/n crafts that they can do together (as well as with Chopper)

“And that’s how I, captain Ussop! Defeated the unstoppable man after 3 days of fighting with my 3000 men!” At hearing that you nod enthusiastically as Chopper chimes in about how cool that was. You smile, thinking back to those 3 whole days Roger and fought Whitebeard before recruiting Oden temporarily to the crew. “What did you do afterwards?” You ask making the long nosed sniper perk up, he thinks for a moment before he continues his “tale”.

“Uhhhh Ussop” you say watching as the sniper who currently tinkered away at some new contraption break from his concentration. “Oh hey! Whats up?” It comes out casually as he turns to look at you as you give him an almost apologetic look which makes his brows furrow. Wordlessly you point to the nearby open port window. One of your crows sits there, tilting its head at him “oh no-“ before he can get another word out it lets out a squawk and other feathered little devils start flying in through the window.

“Your dad is more proud of you than I think you know” you say this with utter confidence and it makes Ussop stumble for a moment. “Really?” He asks this in a quiet tone, almost unsure before you nod and smile “it’s all he talked about when I was on the red force. So you best believe it”

Chopper

Cherry blossom duo!

Was the second member of the crew to know about y/n’s immortality due to recognizing the picture of them with Hiriluk

Something that the little reindeer kept tucked away in a small slit in his hat Kureha added to it

So it’s safe to say that he’s ecstatic, confused and freaking out

Though luckily Sanji and y/n were able to talk with him

And to be honest Chopper gets why their scared to tell the others

He’d be scared in their situation! So he keeps the secret as best he can!

Though there were definitely a few occasions he nearly slipped up lol

As the two youngest members on board both Chopper and y/n band together quite a bit

Partially because of the fact that in mental age their close and because their both just natural sweethearts

Chopper finds it funny that despite being the oldest y/n is also one of the youngest

Both are the cutest mf’s out there that Nami 100% uses to guilt others into getting discounts

Y/n and him unfortunately for her also use the puppy eyes on her to get her to peel their tangerines

Chopper thinks of y/n as a big sibling and very much heavily admires them

Y/n similarly thinks of Chopper as a little brother and admires his medical knowledge despite his age

Both have made each other bff bracelets with little sakura charms

Sometimes when chopper gets sad about Hiriluk y/n tells chopper about their experiences with him

And that he would be proud of chopper

That Kureha is proud

And that their proud of the person Hiriluk took as his own because y/n knows chopper will become the best doctor ever

Every time this happens Chopper sobs

Similarly in the moments when y/n is lost (mostly since they don’t like being overly emotional about their feelings or trauma) Chopper likes to become kinda a therapy animal and let y/n pet his fur to calm them down

Along with that chopper also tries to have them open up about how their feeling

Y/n thinks choppers blue nose looks like a blueberry so they sometimes call him that

Chopper gets super “angry” about it (not really, the only times he’s angry at y/n is when they shrug off an injury)

Speaking of which, he gets really worried for y/n and their careless tendencies

He knows their immortal but he wishes they’d care for themself to at least show him their injuries even if their small

It reminds him of Hiriluk since he had also written off his disease and pain as nothing

The parallels between the two of them really make Chopper worried about losing someone again

Like he knows y/n would come back but having to watch someone you love die is still really traumatic

And the amount of times he’s almost had a heart attack from y/n narrowly dodging death isn’t healthy

Now is it healthy for the others either lol

When in his more deer-like form he lets y/n sit on his back! He bashfully preens in pride when they call him their loyal steed

Let’s y/n decorate his horns with little do-dads and charms

His favourite is the little sakura themed ones they bought at a spring island for him

They have done the two kids on a trench coat routine before and it’s somehow worked

The funny thing is that y/n was the legs and chopper was the upper half

Both make inside jokes about the rest of the crew

Both also occasionally goad Sanji and Zoro into fights

They watch with Luffy while eating popcorn

Talks with the flock all the time! He gossips with them and they all adore him so much

He doesn’t have a favourite and loves all of them

Especially since they all try and bring him herbs or steal him medical supplies from islands the crew dock on

The crows love to dote on him, even calling him one of their flock just like the others on the crew

It makes him happy since he gets a bit of animal companionship that he never got and the fact that the flock accepts anyone no matter their looks

He’s scared to tell the birds about how his birth family kicked him out since he knows they’ll try to get revenge

Y/n likes that through chopper that they can now understand their crows

Something in which makes the crows absolutely ecstatic about and Chopper has to regal their constant pleas for attention and to let y/n know that their adored

He tends to their little injuries and puts little bandaids on their wounds

They like to perch on his antlers and he gets supper bashful when they call him their favourite crew member beside y/n

Chopper finds it funny they call y/n their god?

It’s weird but he just assumes that cause the crows explained to him how several generations back y/n had nursed to health their injured ancestors

While y/n stays in the men’s quarter Chopper and y/n set up a little sleepover tent

Both typically fall asleep in the tent and Sanji or Zoro have to put them in their proper beds rather than sleeping on the floor

While sleepy y/n sometimes thinks chopper is a stuffed animal

Both cling to one another when tired (it’s adorable)

Y/n likes to buy Chopper Sakura themed things or medicinal herbs and books that they’d think he’d like

Chopper on the other hands buys y/n things they can do together or with the crew like puzzles or little crafts

“Ahhh!!! What happened to your arm?!?!” The young reindeer doctor practically screams as his widened eyes look at your bloody and bruised arm that’s also bent the wrong way. The rest of the crew whom you’d been trying to hide it from look to you, whoops. “Uhhhh….it was an accident?” You say this and before you can blink your being dragged to choppers medical bay, darn, you’d sneak past them next time

Sitting down on the flooring of the merry you thread your fingers through choppers soft fur. Your breathing still heavy and shaky as your mind comes down from focusing on bad memories. It takes a few minutes sitting there focusing on the sensation of his fur but eventually you find yourself of sound mind again. Tears staining your cheeks as you mumble a thanks to the doctor who nods. “A doctor has to look out for his patients in health and mind” is what he says making you smile ever so slightly.

“Hey chopper what did Rosemary tell you?” You asked looking quizzically at the Crow perched on his antlers, he looks up to bird listening as she squawks again. “She said that big crow, big lizards and Yama missed you? Who’s that?” He translates then giving you a curious look, you think for a moment then coming up with an answer “oh…she means king and the others”. He nods at the answer before then asking “who’s king? Wait! Do you know royalty?!?”

Robin

History duo, ones is a literal archeologist and the other is the ancient ass artifact

After chopper she’s the third person to know of y/n’s immortality due to watching them die with crocodile

While working with crocodile she didn’t talk to y/n directly too much but did try and look out for them in the shadows

She’s also been praying that y/n wouldn’t end up in Alabasta nor that crocodile would find them again lol

But that didn’t exactly go as planned

Once joining the crew y/n is one of the few to trust Robin partially due to their prior knowledge of her and experience with her

Both feel extreme sympathy for one another, especially once realizing they were both children hunted down by the government

Robin like with Chopper uses her abilities to tickle y/n

Robin cannot count the amount of times her ability has saved y/n without them knowing

Before Brook joined y/n would ask Robin to use her power to make arms and lift y/n up to see stuff lol

Sometimes with the sprouted arms y/n likes to play rock paper scissors with them which makes Robin laugh

Y/n eventually has Robin help in writing in their journal to remember things since they trust her perspective more than their own

Because these two both know Poneglyph’s the two gossip via notes to one another in the language

Robin when reading history books and finds something about y/n shows it to them

It’s now an inside joke between the two of them

They also make it an activity to skim through accounts of things and try to find y/n

What sad though is that in some accounts where it’s clearly y/n mentioned y/n can’t actually remember it

And for awhile y/n just gets kinda quiet and excuses themself

She does not mentioned their reddened eyes when she sees them again

But just offers them a hug

In a certain way, Robin kinda projects what she wish she had as a kid into y/n as a form of self healing

Especially after Enies lobby

She wants to be there for them

Care for them in a way she wished others had cared for her

And it’s with this that Robin becomes a mother figure to y/n

She’d tender and caring to y/n in a way that just kinda makes them instinctively cling to her presence

Her warm hugs and floral scent remind y/n distantly of their mom (or they think it does)

They know Robin isn’t her (no one can be) but Robin’s care and general warmth towards them just makes y/n really happy

Hugs galore

As well as Robin helping Nami take care of y/n since they have no self care at all

Y/n constantly steals Robin’s cowboy hat (when she had it )

Like in pre-timeskip one piece Robin calls y/n by their title of “storyteller” but also refers to them by nicknames as well

Robin loves the crows so much, she has each of them memorized by name

As well as their preferences

Her favourite though is one named Hesta, she’s a quiet one of the flock and likes watch Robin read

May or may not use her devil fruit to pet all the crows

Ussop may have freaked out when seeing the entire murder on the ship with Robin’s hands sprouted from the deck everywhere

When she has mini dates with Franky y/n dressed up as a server with a fake moustache

They also have a fake French accent because they took inspiration from Sanji

Both her and Franky have to hold back laughing cause y/n gets really into it

Y/n likes buying Robin history stuff and letting her borrow their journals to read

Robin meanwhile likes to buy y/n things she sees interested them while on an adventure

(She may or may not have stolen a few things whoops)

“Hey Robin can you help me-“ before you can finish what you’re saying the historian finds herself at your side, already helping in tying your shoelaces. She smiles, “for all the skills you’d picked up over the years I’m surprised you hadn’t learned to tie them yet” it comes out as a giggle with makes you smile bashfully “I know how tie sailor knots and stuff but I don’t think they work for boots”

“Y/n, do you want to help me write some the poneglyph’s? I want to look them over later and put what we have in order” Robin asks making you pause from tracing the forgotten language with your hands. You nod, then pulling out your journal and opening up a new page. “Sounds good to me. Should I include me and Roger’s messages?” At hearing that she nods, a curious smile on her face. “Of course.”

“What happened to you was never right, you deserved better than what the world gave you” hearing this makes her go still as the still sleeping Nami tosses and turns in her sleep. “You didn’t deserve what happened to you either. Neither of us did” when she says this you see tears glisten in moonlight as does she with your starry eyes.

Franky

Suuuuuperrrrrr Star duo!

Like a few others of the straw hats he actually met y/n in his childhood

Specifically because of the Roger pirates when they had stopped in water 7 with Oden

So it’s safe to say after everything in water 7 and Enies lobby he definitely knows y/n is immortal

Though after Franky beat up Ussop y/n kinda takes a little while to warm up to him again at

But Y/n comes around quick on Franky when seeing him help try and save Robin

And after he joins the crew y/n becomes his obligatory little helper!

Since y/n likes to be constantly doing stuff Franky has them help him do repairs on the ship and check for anything that needs to be fixed

He says he can’t fit in a lot of the smaller crevices (which he technically can’t) but normally he’d just use some invention of his

But y/n doesn’t need to know that, not when they get excited in helping

Franky 100% teaches y/n to do poses with him

Nami is half tempted to strangle him for this when y/n did the “suupppeerr” pose after a battle

Unfortunately for her dumbass number 2 (aka Luffy) joins in and then Ussop as well

Y/n in the morning likes to help style Franky’s hair, he wonder’s who Vivi is and why his hair colour reminds them of her

Y/n is also the reason why Franky’s hair is now styled occasionally like sea creatures

His favourite is when they style it as a shark or whale

He shivers each time he looks at y/n’s “ship”

Especially when they say that she’s a fine sea-craft (she not)

He just nods along

Back when he was a kid he was also equally appalled back then about it and had offered to make it better

But just like back then y/n refuse

And somehow that dinky thing always seems to end back up at the ship even when in a storm it ends up lost at sea

Y/n sits on his arm all the time, especially when he is in a muscle man pose

They think it’s funny

He thinks it’s funny when steal his sunglasses

The two of them have single-handedly increased the amount of Hawaiian shirts owned by the straw hats by about 70%

Sometimes when he misses the Franky family he talks to y/n about how they deal with leaving people they love

And y/n always talk about how they kinda deal with it

But it’s always hard

They miss a lot of people

Some of which they don’t remember but know they instinctively miss

It definitely helps him

But it also highlights to Franky just how lonely they are

Because he joined later on he hasn’t seen or heard y/n talk about some of their experiences

He’s maybe heard some from iceberg or the other straw hats but they were always vague

It’s sad to him, especially since their short friendship with him had honestly made him feel less alone in the harder segments of his life

But knowing just how many people they had said goodbye to and would say goodbye to, the years afloat on that thing they call a ship by themself

Yeah, it really weighs on him

Because he gets it

Y/n is the only one for sure who knows that Robin and Franky eventually get together (frobin for real y’all)

They don’t tell anyone cause they just kinda assumed everyone already knew and forgot it was a secret lol

Despite this though, they accidentally cover for Robin and Franky when they go out on small dates

Y/n is somehow Franky’s ultimate wingman (wingperson?)

They suggest to him things they know Robin like or would like

The two of them like to paint a pair of stars on each of Franky’s inventions

A blue 5 pointed on for Franky and a smaller 4 pointed gold one for y/n

Y/n Is the only one on the crew besides Luffy to use the Franky fridge to store stuff

Specifically the snacks the other crew members give them through the day

Franky ends up building some birdhouses on the ship for crows who stay the night along with prosthetic limbs for birds who lost legs or even their wings

He doesn’t have a particular bird he prefers over the rest

He thinks all of them are SUUPPEERRRR

They seem to like his golden chain and shiny metal nose

Much to his amusement

Sometimes a chosen bird will be allowed to wear his sunglasses and it becomes the super bird of the day

This bird for that day gets to hang around on his head and gets a invention made for them

Y/n likes to buy Franky cool gadgets they find along with anything that has blue stars

Franky doesn’t buy y/n stuff but instead makes them things, typically little do-dads or even some puzzles to keep them preoccupied

“Hey Franky, do you need some help there?” You asked watching the blue haired shipwright peel himself away from repairing the mast of the ship. He grins, “Surre thing little helper!” He then tosses you a hammer that you luckily catch.

“What do you suggest I get Robin? I’m still debating between these two” the cyborg man questions as he holds up two different bouquets of fresh flowers. You peer between the two, examining them. “Robin would probably like the second one. Those flowers have meanings of “love” “companionship” and “appreciation” which would be the best choice. She’d like the effort behind them” you say before correcting your fake moustache and dusting off any dirt of your fake waiter uniform you stole from Sanji’s days at the baratie. “Should I have Hesta fly in and deliver them?” He adds making you respond “of course!”

Two cans of Cola clink together as you and Franky sit watching the horizon. “I can only imagine Oden’s face seeing that you’re now a pirate after saying you’d never be one, oh and Tom’s” you giggle as Franky nods “do you think they’d be happy?”. For a moment you ponder “I can’t say for sure….but I think so long as your happy they’d be”

Brook

Dead duo (lol) cause they’ve both died and come back to life (though one has done this significantly more than the other)

By the time he joins y/n being a immortal ain’t a secret anymore

Even if it was his emotional breakdown when seeing them again asking if he’s finally gone fully insane before hugging them would probably proof enough that their immortal

But anyway!!

For very obvious reasons Brook for a long while after reuniting is kinda stuck at y/n’s side

Partially because he’s still unsure if this is real and afraid he’ll wake up alone again

On that ship where only the damned souls of the sea like himself stay

Y/n seems to know this though and happily allows him to stay at their side as they hold onto his coat since he’s too tall for them to comfortably hold his hand

The annual amount of death and skeleton jokes have gone up exponentially because of the two of them alone

Both Brook and y/n cope via jokes and each other (as sad as that is)

The crew can’t help but deadpan at the amount of time the two have watched something horrific or head about it and said “same” or pointed to a skeleton and said “look it’s us!”

Brook doesn’t ask his pervert questions or jokes in front of y/n he’s too mortified to do so when he basically considered them his family

He once accidentally did and y/n asked what that meant and he wanted to curl up and die (again)

Y/n brings him milk and stuff with calcium saying he needs to build up bone density

He has yet to tell them he can’t drink it but he appreciates the gesture and gives it to Sanji instead so he can use it for recipes

Brook is the only person y/n talks to about the ways in which they’ve died

Mostly because he’s the only other person who can understand what its like

And because hearing vindication that what had happened to them was wrong kinda helps them process stuff

Because they should not have died as many as they’ve had let alone in such gruesome ways

Hearing it from Brook, someone who’d also faced the horrors of death and immortality really opens their eyes

Whenever Brook plays music y/n instinctively joins him in song

It’s just second nature to y/n at this point

Both are different versions of insane from immortality. While’s brooks is more noticeable for y/n’s it’s more subtle

Y/n likes to show Brook all the instruments and songs they learned after his death

Especially their ukulele skills much to his amusement

Neither can play Binks booze together without sobbing midway

Nor can Brook handle their stories of Laboon still waiting at reverse mountain

Nor can y/n handle hearing how Brook would see visions of them and the crew in his years of isolation

The rest of the straw hats can’t handle just how depressing that all is lol

He accidentally found y/n, Chopper and Luffy in their game and now has made a soundtrack for it

When y/n stays in the men’s quarter Brook sometimes has to check their still alive because of his fear they’ll die again

Y/n has played the xylophone on Brook’s ribcage much to Nami’s horror

Both of them pull the “as the oldest people on board” card

The two of them also call each other senior citizens and try and get discounts at places via Nami’s orders

Both always get kicked out

Y/n somehow learned the word “boner” from someone and asked Brook what that meant because he was made of bones

He wanted to die a second time 💀

He was mortified after that especially when y/n then taught that word to Luffy and chopper who joined in on asking him what it meant

Robin had to help him escape the questioning

When y/n can’t see anything they like to climb Brook to get a better view

Y/n also sometimes hides in his ribcage

The two of them share an atrocious fashion sense

The only difference is that Robin and Nami help in making sure y/n doesn’t end up in a floral shirt with polka dot shorts and sandals with socks

Brook is extremely proud of y/n’s skills that they picked up from him and his crew

The crows keep bringing Brook bones because they assume all skeletons they find somehow are parts of Brook

Y/n taught them to play the xylophone on Brook

The dead musician’s favourite crow is one named “crazy Pete” because he just picks shit up and starts whacking against the nearest surface

This making him the best xylophone player of the crows as well as the best drummer

The flock also uses his ribcage as a perch as well as his Afro in which they have built a nest in that he didn’t know about until baby birds hatched

He got to name the newborns and named some of them after his old crew

Y/n likes to buy Brook skeleton things (like those plastic Halloween skeletons lol) and music sheets for him to write new music

Brook gets y/n a bunch of weird mystical shit that y/n always ends up loving

“Yohohohoho! Are you up for a duet?” The old skeleton asks as he holds up his violin, you look up from the book you were reading a smile already stretching across your face. “Do you have to ask?” You reply back as you get up and get into position, if a skeleton could smile he would.

“Yo brook!” You yell already snickering under your voice “do you think we ought to buy some trombone’s? Or maybe some Xylobone’s?”. At that he lets out his signature laugh, “maybe, but they’d cost a Skelaton! Get it? Cause we’ve both died!” For a moment there’s a pause of silence between you both before the two of you burst out into laughter. Nami grumbles under her breath about you both being “numbskulls” before realizing her mistake, the two of you laugh even harder.

In the middle of the night you and Brook sit in the crows nest, the humming the Bink’s booze filling the silence beneath the stars. Because for now that’s enough.

Jinbe

Fisher duo! Would’ve gone with sun duo because of the sun pirates but that duo name probably fits y/n and ace more

By the time Jinbe joins everyone on the crew knows so he doesn’t need to keep the secret

Something that makes him hella realized about since he knows he’d have to jump through hoops somehow trying to explain why y/n knew him prior

Is always worried for y/n especially when realizing they already have a very small impulse control that melts away when Luffy is near

Like he is getting grey hairs as Robin and Nami emphatically pat his shoulder

Y/n loves to laze about on Jinbe, they’ll just randomly go up to him raise their arms up to be picked up and then just fall asleep or stay there

Y/n likes how warm he is along with how he’ll carry them around. Plus his more squishy and smooth textured skin on account of being a fishman is a texture that they like

Jinbe has accepted his role as a resting place for y/n

Something that now also extends to Luffy, chopper and sometimes Zoro as well

When not doing his duties on the ship he likes to listen to y/n’s recounts of things

He finds it pretty soothing as well as informative

If no one else is up to listen to y/n word vomit then Jinbe always has an ear open

His favourites are ones are those including Roger

He’d never known him, just knew about bits and pieces from Whitebeard so he’s especially interested in learning about him from someone else

Y/n sometimes like to ask him about fishman culture along with facts about mermaids as well!

Especially stuff about Joyboy

Something which makes Jinbe light up in pride

Head pats galore from this fishman once he finds out that y/n melts at that type of affection

Is the first to not question how y/n has befriended so many war criminals

Though his is curious how the hell Doflamingo ended up on that list

Speaking of which when y/n gets really scared or anxious he is quick to pick up on it

Just immediately picks up y/n leaves the situation while Luffy goes to beat up what caused the problem lol

Y/n when seeing him get odd looks gives people odd looks back

Especially when people ask where their parents were and they point to Jinbe as if it were the most obvious answer in the world

Y/n once has bitten someone who was being racist

While Jinbe was proud he was not happy with the fact they resorted to Luffy type behaviour

Definitely considers Jinbe a father figure

Something he holds in high regard especially when hearing how they think so highly about Roger

Due to Jinbe being a whale shark fishman y/n bought themself and him matching whale shark plushies

He got the smaller one while y/n got the mama

Jinbe may or may not have secretly cried about this

Because Jinbe is serious most of the time y/n has made it a sport in trying to surprise him

Like suddenly jumping from the crows nest into his arms or randomly appearing out of nowhere for hugs

Even if he’s upset with their recklessness he always ends up smiling

Much like the others he ends up as a resting spot for the crows, specifically the young ones just learning to fly

They always end up tucked into his kimono somehow but he doesn’t end up minding it much

Not when the combined forces of the baby birds and y/n give him puppy eyes

His all time favourite crow though is one named Pearl, she’s just a little sweetheart that loves to sit on his hands to be pet

To be honest he finds them all rather intriguing especially since crows typically aren’t this intelligent

Like sure typically their intelligent birds but these ones seem even moreso

it seems somehow they have increased perception?

He’s not sure as to why but leaves it as a “y/n thing”

Something that has become a trend in his will for questioning things

Don’t understand it? Probably a y/n thing so move on and accept it

Nami has been following in this mindset for awhile now

Y/n steals his robes despite them being too big

He purposely leaves them out when realizing they like to do this

Jinbe is the only one to know about y/n’s time as a slave and is the only one to know why they sometimes flinch when people touch their back

He’s also the only way who’s able to understand and comfort them when they silently stream out at the sea

At ports y/n likes to go shopping with Jinbe and though he says they don’t need to buy him anything they buy him sea themed stuff to remind him of fishman island

In similar fashion despite y/n saying that he doesn’t need to buy them anything he buys them charms for their bracelets and necklaces that represent a place they’ve been so they can keep track

“So Roger really could stand toe to toe with Whitebeard?” Jinbe asks as you nod with a smile “yeah, Roger despite having no devil fruit was extraordinarily strong and had extraordinary Haki. Plus Roger was Roger”. At hearing this explanation Jinbe nods but then inquires “what do you mean by that last part?” Which makes you lightly giggle before explaining “Roger is the only person besides maybe Luffy who would sneak onto a marine base, fist fight Garp the fist, raid the kitchen and then proceed to escape back to the Oro with the stolen food, treasure and highly classified government field he thought looked cool”

“Jinbe can I go up” you ask with your hands already reaching up to him and in position to be lifted. The fishman smiles, for an immortal you really were a kid still. He smiles. “Alright, do you also want to hear about fishman island again?” It’s not even really a question when he knows your answer but he asks either way and sees you nod. Pearl who’s perched on his shoulder makes room and finds a place between you and him.

It’s late in the night when he finds you sitting on the railing of the ship, silently looking out to sea just as you did all those years ago. He leans against the railing beside you, remembering not to touch your back at this time. “You got reminded of it again?” He asks on which he receives a full nod from you, “it was in the market, there were some propaganda posters about escaped slaves. I checked to see if I was on there, I wasn’t luckily, but it still left me feeling all flighty”. He frowns at that but nods. “Do you need me to stay with you for now?” You respond quickly without thought “yes….it burns Jinbe, my back burns again but I know the brands not there”

#determination!#platonic #one piece #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #nami x reader #robin x reader #chopper x reader #Franky x reader #I added some Frobin in there to hehehehe #brook x reader #jinbe x reader #ussop x reader

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lina-lovebug · 2 years ago

Text

You Are Mine

Na'vi! Quaritch x fem! Na'vi! Reader

All sentences in italics are the Na'vi language.

Background: Reader was kidnapped along with the kids and is Neytiri older sister. Quaritch wouldn't let her escape and became his direct line into the world of Pandora.

You still couldn't believe it. That monster, that bastard, was somehow alive. And when he dared to lay hands on the kids, you made sure he would have a reminder of what pain he would experience the next time that happened.

You bit his neck. Hard.

"You do this with all your partners, sweetheart?" Quaritch smirked at you, the blood gone but the marks of your fangs still scarred onto his skin.

I hissed in retaliation, a reminder that I was not to be tamed.

"Leave her alone!" Spider hissed, protective over his aunt. You adored Spider and saw him as your son.

I never got the chance to make a bond. Despite my parents' best efforts to pair me with Tsu'tey, you wanted to bond for the sake of love and trust. And I knew well that Tsu'tey did not love me, so I was seen as a lone Na'vi.

"Do they hurt?" Spider questioned, referring to the restraints on my wrists and ankles.

"I am fine, do not worry about me. Besides, this sky bastard would not know a woman's touch if it was shoved up his ass," I smirked and Spider laughed.

"What? What's so damn funny?" Quaritch questioned.

"Stupid oaf," I giggled, knowing he couldn't understand shit.

"It was nothing," Spider insisted.

"Tch," He walked away, leaving you and Spider.

Quaritch hated to admit it, but you were a damn beauty. He remembered you vaguely from his human memories, seeing you land on his ship and fire two arrows straight at two pilots. The fear he felt knowing you could have pulled out one more and struck him, but didn't and left. A fierce Na'vi warrior who was strong and willing to kill for her people, plus the looks were an added bonus.

"What do we know about her?"

"Her name is (Y/N), she's the daughter of the previous leader of the Omaticaya, Eytucan and the Tsahik, Mo'at. Her mother and sister, Neytiri, are her only living relatives-"

"So she's Mrs. Sullys' sister?" Quaritch chuckled and looked back at you, who was staring out at the forest.

He could have guessed, judging by the similar faces, but you were taller and much more. . .up close than Neytiri. Sure, Neytiri literally got the closest you can be by killing him, but you were his captive.

Meaning he could get information from you.

"So you are Neytiris' sister. Could have guessed from the mark you gave me," Quaritch approached me in my cell, shutting the door behind him. My tail flicked, in tune with my nerves, as I only stared at him.

"Much prettier, I will admit," He sat down next to me, to which I scooted away and kept a sharp gaze on him.

And did not respond.

"So sorry about your father. My condolences. I did not mean to cause such harm," My chest rose higher, feeling angry that he thought he could even speak of my father.

But still, I stayed silent.

"You're pretty close with my son. Did you raise him?" He crossed his arms together, but my eyes traveled to his neck. When his comrades tore me away, my fangs dragged and tore the skin open.

"Do you even speak Engli-"

"Your language was too easy for me. It shows just how intelligent your species are," I responded in perfect English.

"Why tha-"

"It was not a compliment," I cut him off, my stare deadly and my lips in a firm line.

"And Spider is not your son," I knew Spider, and he was the kindest soul. He wanted so badly to be Na'vi, but he had a human body. It did not discourage him and that is why I was proud to call him my own.

"So you did raise him then. You taught him the language?"

"Rather mine than yours," I retorted.

"I'll take that as a yes. Look, I'm hopeless with this stuff, and in order to better connect with him," He got closer.

"I would like you to teach me. I want to bond with him - the way we were meant to. Could you help me with that, sweetheart?" His hand went to grab my hair, and my hands went to grab his wrist and restrain him.

But he did so to me.

My shackled hands fell against the wall, and he stared down at me. His hand grabbed my chains and pushed them upwards, against the wall.

I hissed, bearing my fangs but all he did was chuckle.

"I can do this all day, sweetheart. I won't let them torture you, as a thank you for raising my son, but," He moved his face closer to my own.

"Don't think for a second that you're getting out of here."

It had been three months and he still spoke like a baby.

"Nari!"

"Narni."

"No!" My hand went up to smack his forehead and he grabbed my wrist, frustrated.

"This is stupid. I'm clearly saying it right!"

"No, you are not," I expressed. We had these lessons twice a day in my prison, and as a reward, he would let me out for a day. I still had my ankle shackles on but it felt nice to move around.

"As much as I would love to agree and get you out of my sight-"

"Aw c'mon, sweetheart, you don't mean that," He expressed, his hand still around my wrist.

"I ain't that bad to look at," And his teeth grazed my wrist, over my veins and his eyes. . .oh great mother, his eyes looked at me in such a way only mated pairs should.

"You-You-"

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Tch," I tore my wrist away, "your behavior is very inappropriate. Only mated pairs should look at each other like that."

"Mated pairs?" I sighed at his question.

"When a woman chooses her man, and he in return, they then bond and become Mated for life," It was a simple yet perfect way of life. That is all you wished for yourself and any other Na'vi.

"You don't fool around? Have a taste of anyone else?"

"Your culture seems to think that is all love is, but you are wrong. You know when you have found your mate, and it is like no other feeling. You will do anything for your mate and your children. Na'vi women are noted to become feral when their child is in danger and are considered the most dangerous creature," You saw now Neytiri loved her children and even when they had the smallest scratch, she became so protective of them.

"How do you guys mate? Just attach your braid things?" He was genuinely curious and it made me smile, but not enough for him to notice.

"Guess you're a happy woman then," He was a bit bummed, as you were beautiful, and your spirit is strong.

"I am not mated. Many men were killed the last you were here," I admitted, the fall of my people still bringing a light mist to my eyes. Many friends, and even my own father - all lost but never forgotten. They were all with Eywa now.

"You have sex," I stated bluntly, "and you share your memories."

"Hmm. . .good to know," I watched as he got up and made his way to the door.

"Oh, and (Y/N)? I was checking your pulse. You do find me attractive," He chuckled, leaving as I recalled his fangs grazing over my veins and my cheeks flared.

"As if, you bastard!"

"Can you look away?"

"And let you escape? I'm not that fucking stupid."

I rolled my eyes at my captors, who were allowing me to bathe in the natural spring waters because I did not like their mechanical baths.

I moved further into the water, making sure my body was covered. Only my eyes were up above as I moved behind the waterfall, and I caught Miles Quaritchs gaze as I disappeared.

The cool water brought a smile to my face as I bathed, using soap we made from the land and relishing in the cleanliness.

"Having fun?"

I gasped, dipping back down into the water as I saw Miles Quaritch move his body into the waterfall, his shirt off.

"Don't worry, I covered my eyes, sweetheart. Just making sure you aren't running away," He said, averting his gaze.

But mine lingered.

It was shameful, for sure, but my eyes lingered on the water droplets that traveled over every muscle of his chest.

"Why did you hate us?" I asked quietly, and he looked at me.

"Why did you come here?" And kill so many.

He let out a sigh of sadness, like he himself did not know.

"I know my memories say that it was for money. I could see through his eyes that all he saw were disgusting creatures in the way of his goals," He seemed ashamed, like he didn't want to be that man but his memories and name force him to remain that same person.

"Do you hate me?" I asked, my body fully out of the water but his eyes did not trail my body. His eyes remained on mine, and his gentle hand came up to my chin.

"Never, sweetheart."

I knew I was in deep trouble. The many times Miles Quaritch came to visit me, and the many times I got to know him - he was a changed man. I could see it in his spirit. He came to adore my planet and our ways, but those around him would not allow him to fully embrace it. It would mean he would abandon his mission, and they would kill him for it.

Which is why I was unsure of my own heart.

I was his prisoner. I was his captive, and yet I felt my heart race anytime he looked at me.

Neytiri would be disappointed in me.

Father would be disappointed in me.

Mother would not be able to stand the sight of me.

Which is why I was crying.

It was late and all were asleep, so I sat in my corner and wept. I had fallen for such a cruel man who killed hundreds of my people, and why? Why did I choose him? Because he might have changed? I did not understand.

"(Y/N)? Are you crying?" Once I heard his hushed voice, I wiped my tears away. The lights remained off, but we could see each other as our bodies gave off the bioluminescent glow.

"Go away, Quaritch."

"If you need anything, you can ask-"

"I do not want anything from you. I want to go home," I hissed, trying to move the focus from my tears.

"I. . .you know I can't let you do that," He sighed, conflicted with himself.

"I do not understand," I whispered, and he grabbed my chin and had me look up at him.

"Understand what?"

"My heart," I admitted, "it wages war with itself."

"Why?"

"You have a strong spirit and a kind heart, and you are not the same man you were once were. . .but I do not understand why my own heart is intertwined with yours," I confessed, and his hand on my chin relaxed and he looked shocked.

"Neytiri will hate me," The thought of my own sister shaming me and looking at me with great hatred made me hate myself.

"Don't say that."

"As much as I yearn for you, that does not erase the things you have done," He held me against him as I wept. My nails dug so deep into the fabric of his shirt that it left holes.

"I wish I stayed dead," He admitted.

"Then maybe I wouldn't see so many Na'vi who despise me. I wouldn't fear death every time I saw an arrow. . .but if I stayed dead, I never would have gotten to know you, sweetheart," He confessed, holding my face in his hands.

There did not need to be any other words as he leaned down and captured my lips in his. In this moment, I did not think of how my people would hate me or that my own mother would not love me. I only thought of his soft lips against mine, and how he felt absolutely perfect to me.

#avatar the way of water #the way of water #colonel quaritch #quaritch x reader #avatar imagine #avatar the way of water imagine #miles quaritch

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fabricated-misslieness · 4 months ago

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: years ago, you broke up with him for his reckless lifestyle. now, when he's come back without changing a bit, you don't know why you let him back into your life.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.65k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: angst, death is mentioned and tyler gets close to it not explicitly, kissing, swearing, baby as a nickname for your lover, lot of made up family members + names

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: cowboy slang vocabulary, yes it's 11pm, yes I wrote this in a day, yes I'm in bed, yes Glen Powells is hot

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler Owens likes to live what others might call a dangerous life, although he much preferred to call it a life of thrill.

He started it off as a bull rider for a rodeo, and though by the end of it he was regarded as the star bull rider and sometimes even the star of the show, there was a big learning curve that ended him with a couple (something closer to four dozen, really) kicks on the ol' noggin. Luckily, none of it sprouted within him either physical or mental problems by the time he decided he wanted to move on; his mother always said he had a thick skull, anyway.

After the less dangerous, still excruciating years in university, he came out with a meteorologist degree. And what did he do with it? He became a storm chaser.

A peculiar fact that came with it was that even after landing a more dangerous job, he sustained less injuries than bull riding by a substantial amount. Suppose the thing is that the moment he gets his first serious one, he's likely done for.

You've been through it all.

You met him before he even started this life, in high school; your first kiss was at his bedside after a particularly harsh fall and kick, you persisted through the busier university schedule, and you supported his dreams to be a storm chaser.

But at the height of it all, after the first scare when the anchor mechanism on that old truck of his failed to stop the car from turning onto its side, you decided you two were over.

It was definitely selfish. You didn't want to be close to him when, and you said when, he died. You decided it would be a lot less grief on your end, and you know what? He understood you.

For years, you've been grateful for him. As much as you've been his anchor, he's been yours...but he'd have made you a widower, even if you were married or not, and you just couldn't take that possibility.

If you're caught in the disastrous thunderstorm he'll leave behind, you're not sure you'll ever make it out.

You hope you'll never find out.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Get your ten commandments out of my soup!"

So why did you let him walk back into your life?

"I'm sorry! Hey, don't hit me with that ladle!"

You're not sure.

You point the utensil at him as threateningly as possible, although it's practically the same thing as pointing a spoon at him. "I don't need you for a taste-tester, Owens, you best take note of that."

"Yeah, yeah," Tyler's body is shaking with laughs, even as he lifts his hands up in surrender. "yes, sir."

You roll your eyes, bedrugingly turning your back to him to keep chopping vegetables. Tonight, you'll be sharing this soup with the whole family, and you're currently trying your damnedest to make it good. That means avoiding whatever seasoning boiled Tornado Wrangler digits will bring.

Tyler leans back to admire you, no he's not looking at your ass, work away. It feels oddly domestic, even if he's sitting down like a useless husband watching TV on his recliner.

That feeling of domesticity is piled on further when he hears the sound of innocent laughing outside.

"You sure that kid's not mine?" Tyler suggests for the second time, gesturing out the back door with his head.

"Haha." You laugh sarcastically, not even giving him the satisfaction of turning his way. "No, my sister just so happened to marry a blonde. Even if she was somehow ours, I would've never kept you from her."

Of course you wouldn't have. You're too good for that.

The kid outside is your niece, a twelve year old girl shipped out of bustling New York City to the backdoor of America for being "too addicted to her phone", as your sister says. Despite her self-proclaimed hatred for the outdoors, she's actually having a lot of fun with the ranch dogs, who indulge her when they're not working.

Even though he's in no way related to the kid, and even if you and him could never biologically create anything together, he swears she looks just like if the two of you had a love child, which makes his heart swell all the more when she sees her.

"If we could've had one," Tyler begins, standing up to begin a slow, silent walk towards you. "would you have rather they be a boy or a girl?"

"Don't ask me that." You say with a laugh, meaning you're refusing to answer only because you don't want to have prejudice.

"Okay, fine, then." He settles behind you, pressing his chest to your back. "Huh."

"Huh, what, cowpoke?"

His hands are settled on the edge of the counter on either side of you, trapping you in. "I thought you'd flinch."

"I learned to expected the unexpected around you, Tyler Owens. Never a day went by that you didn't surprise me, so I decided I'd simply never be surprised."

Tyler sputters out a laugh. "Oh, hobble your lip!"

"It's true." You reply, offhandedly, fully concentrated on chopping some carrots, and Tyler hates that because you're not giving him attention.

So he opts to do something you'll obviously never expect and prove you wrong. He leans down to press his nose against your neck, and you think he's only going to kiss it, but instead...

Thbptttttt!

"Ew, Tyler, you did not!" It's a miracle you have the self-restraint to put the knife down, let alone only push him away and not slap him on the face. You clutch the spot where he just blew a raspberry and instantly regret it, recoiling away from the feel of his saliva like it's acid.

Tyler laughs. Despite your best efforts to push him away again as he approaches, he only dodges your hands and traps you against the counter again. His plan is accomplished, as he now has you facing him.

"You asshole." You snarl.

Tyler only smiles. "Yours, all the same."

He leans down to kiss right where he'd blown that raspberry, collecting most of his own spit on his lips and saving you the trouble of cleaning it himself.

Even when you wipe off the rest of the spit you'd previously touched on his sleeve, he laughs.

"What am I going to do with you?" You sigh, cupping his cheek and tilting his gaze towards yours.

He's a damn bastard, having the audacity to grin at you as if he's won some kind of victory. "Kiss me."

So he's a puppy, then. Licking you like it's a way of kissing and expecting a proper kiss back. "No, you don't deserve that."

He rolls his eyes, though his eyes find yours immediately after. "Yes I do. Kiss me."

You don't know why you let Tyler Owens walk back into your life like nothing happened. You don't know how you let him kiss your neck, or how you let him even ask to kiss you, or how you're even being friendly with him.

Scratch that, actually. You don't know why he kissed your neck, why he wants to kiss you, or why he's being friendly with you.

You walked out of his life, for God's sake. You walked out of his life because you feared dealing with the aftermath of his death.

He's a tornado. Tyler Owens, the tornado wrangling cowboy, is a tornado. He's a fire twister, even, the worst of the worst, a category F5. The damage he'll leave once he dies out won't be devastating, it'll be incredible.

That's what you're trying to avoid.

"What's wrong?" Tyler's smile has faded, his expression sobered up. Of course he can still tell when you're lost in your own thoughts.

"Nothing." You shake your head, wipe your nose to hide your sniffle and thus let go of his face. "Hey, how about you go check up on Sophie? My sister would kill me if she got hurt."

"Right, sure." He can sense something's wrong, but he withdraws anyway, respecting your decisions. He always does that, and you hate him for it, because he's so good.

You watch him head out the back door, and even as he closes it, you watch on.

He's too good for you.

When the distant sound of the boiling soup catches your ear, you inevitably tear your eyes away.

Right, let's make the best soup there ever was.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tyler had unknowingly picked the right time to show up at your front door when he did.

"Aww, come on, you didn't have to make such a big fuss," Your great uncle speaks with those sloppy dentures of his, but even with the wet sound of his gums and lips, he sounds entirely endearing. "Tyler's back! This party should've been his."

Tyler's always been the life of the party ever since you brought him home for that first Thanksgiving (his "trial", so to speak), and that apparently hasn't changed.

"Oh, no, no, you're kiddin' grandpa!" Tyler only raises his glass from where he's leaning against the punch table. "It's your birthday! Hell, I didn't even bring a gift!"

"Your fine ass is all you needed to bring." Your famously single aunt grins and sends a wink, holding a glass full of wine she snuck in despite all the children around.

Tyler directs his own glass towards her to thank her, his smile never waning. "Oh shush, aunt Delilah."

As Tyler greets the family one by one, all of which clearly miss him, you're in the corner of the room pointing out each of them to your niece.

"Those are your cousins...I think. They're your mom's cousin's kids, and well...whatever, they're Jonas' kids. Becky, Jake, Bean–"

"Bean?"

"Sorry, his name's Nick, we just call him Bean 'cause one time as a toddler we found him sitting on a sack of raw beans, shovelling them into his mouth."

"That's crazy."

Even after you've named every face in the room and sent Sophie away with a pat on the head to mingle with her...cousins, Tyler's still talking to everyone.

Your heart burns like you've had some of uncle Dick's famous dripping fried chicken at the sight of it because nobody's ever like this when it's just you.

It's not even about the fact you're forgotten, it's a big family and you have your own close group of cousins in the middle of all of them, it's the fact that they missed him.

While you're distracted, your mom pulls you down to sit beside her on the couch, where your dad is telling another story of his. Many of your aunts and uncles and distant cousins are gathered around him, listening intently, but as you actually hear the contents of his speech, your attention fades away. It's one of those stories he always tells, about how the crop cycle was ruined until he had this eureka idea.

Distantly, you hear Tyler droning on about his whole tornado wrangling cowboy thing, explaining his latest feat like it's nothing but a regular Tuesday. He's got a lot more people gathered around him than your dad; not to discredit your dad, as he's doing his best trying to compete against Tyler in storytelling, but you know how that will end.

You kiss your mother on the cheek and stand up to find your more amicable cousins, only to be interrupted by your aunt Sissy, Delilah's sister.

"Hey, darling! How've you been?" She calls you over and immediately slings an arm around your neck, holding you close and rubbing your cheeks together in greeting.

"Good, good." You say immediately, an instinctual white lie as you wipe her transferred makeup off your cheek.

She doesn't even notice you're lying to her, maybe doesn't care enough to notice, before she's nodding her head towards Tyler and his crowd. "I'm so happy you're back together with Tyler, he must have so many new stories to tell."

"Um, actually, auntie," You try to correct her, then bite your lip, pausing suddenly to think. It'd probably be a lot better if you let her believe you were back together, but you've already dug yourself into saying actually. "we're–"

"Hey, auntie Sissy!" Tyler suddenly appears beside you like he wasn't just across the room, leaning down to gracefully accept the cheek kisses in greeting. He somehow comes out of it without getting stained. "How have things been? The old cat still slinking around the neighbors' yards?"

The two of them exchange a few words before he's slinging an arm around your shoulder, "Can I borrow this one real quick? It'll just be a sec."

"Sure, sure!" Whether an insult to your presence or a compliment to his coercion tactics, she's more than happy to let the two of you go. "Don't let me hold up your fun."

You're grateful for him steering you away from the party and out onto the front porch, but you're also dreading being alone with him after the whole thing in the kitchen.

Tyler doesn't seem too far off.

"Whew, I did not miss being around your family." He breaths out, leaning against the porch's railing.

The whole dread fades into confusion as he says that, and you lean against the spot beside him. "You didn't?"

"No...well," He shakes his head, "I missed hanging out with them. I did not miss having to tell them every single detail about where I've been since I've last seen them."

"I thought you liked telling them stories." You hummed, turning your gaze from the scenery ahead to him.

"Eh...I much prefer intimate crowds." He sends a wink. You flush and try to turn away, but he catches your cheek and stops you.

Tyler knows something is wrong, has known since you discreetly pushed him away earlier today in the kitchen. Looking into your eyes only further convinces him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

His eyes narrow. His stupidly beautiful blue-green eyes narrow at you, and you know you can't lie anymore...but you can deflect.

"Did you know your eyes are blue and green?" You ask, lightly tapping his hand that sits on the railing.

"(Y/N)."

"Blue rim. Green...center? No, that's not the word, the inner? God, I don't know." You shake your head, and despite the movement, his hand doesn't leave your cheek.

"(Y/N)."

"They remind me of the classic scenery." You hold a pointer finger out. "Blue sky, green lawn, right? Or the Windows default wallpaper. Both are iconic."

His other hand leaves the railing and takes your other cheek. "Baby, look at me."

Baby. You used to hate it when he called you that, you weren't some baby, but now...now, how you've missed it.

You sigh, closing your eyes momentarily to collect yourself. No more deflecting and no more lies. You actually had to talk about your feelings now.

It had taken a lot of courage the first time, telling him: yes, I still love you, I'm just selfish and think that if you die, you'll take me down with you; no, I know you won't actually kill me, but you'll take my soul with you, and that's practically the same thing, isn't it?

"You don't have to tell me anything." Tyler speaks up before you do, beckoning your eyes open. "You just have to tell me to go away again, if that's what you want."

"No," You instinctively say.

"No," You say immediately.

No. No, how could you? You did once, and you're not sure how.

"Stay." You say, because you want it, you want him to stay.

"Okay." He says it easily, and his hands fall to his sides. He's willing to take that, just that, because...you don't know, maybe he still loves you. You're not willing to admit that.

You're not willing to accept that he still loves you after you told him you wanted to break up.

You take his hand before he can walk back into the party. "Why'd you come back?"

"I..." Tyler almost shrinks back, but you intertwine your fingers, and now you're the angler reeling him back in. "My car got flipped onto it's roof."

"Baby." You breathe out, pulling him in, pulling him closer to you, almost like he's not living flesh in front of you and you need to make sure he's breathing by feeling his chest heave against you.

"I was in the hospital for a little while...just some cuts." He assures first, to not worry you. He grabs both your hands, presses his nose to the knuckles, inhales the scent of their sweat like it's that of an apple pie, and it's weird but he needs it. "The glass broke, obviously, all of it, and some of my equipment, and, well, fuck, it was worse than a couple cuts."

"Ty."

"I'm okay, you see? Not scarred. I'm tough." He lets go of your hands momentarily to do a little twirl for you. He looks just the same as you left him.

"You almost died." You say anyway.

"Yeah." He doesn't deny it, he can't lie, because he can see through your lies as well as you can see through his. "I wanted to see you again, because...I wanted to see you in case the next time I got into an accident, I actually died. And you know what? I feel selfish for it."

"What? No." You shake your head, step closer. You're about to say more, but he starts first.

"You told me to stay away, but I came back into your life and I acted like nothing happened. You know, the life you're living? It's kind of what I wanted for us. A little ranch, some cows, some dogs, a farm. We get our own milk, our own eggs, grow our own food, and it's just the two of us..." His fingers climb up your arm like a little spider, and his gaze follows it absentmindedly. "Until we decide to adopt a little girl. You drive her to school, I drive her back home. We're happy, raising her. We teach her not to be like us, and she still turns out an exact replica of us, anyway. She's our princess."

"Sophie?"

"Sophie."

He sniffles. You tear your hand away from his only to cup both of his cheeks with your hands. "I'm so sorry, Tyler."

"No, I–"

"No, shut up." Despite the severity, you laugh, and he does too, until you're speaking again. "I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed right there with you. I'd have been right at your bedside, you know? I'd have kissed you like the first time. Remember what I said?"

He laughs again, "That my breath tastes like cow shit?"

"Yeah, that." You grin at him, and he loves to see you grin like that again. "I was selfish."

"I understood you completely, though. I thought I was saving you the grief." That's why he let you leave so easily, and you realize it now, looking into his eyes. "You were right. You always are."

"I'm not, Tyler. I was wrong." You shake your head, "I thought it worked. Weeks went by when I didn't think about you, because I fought the memories of you back. A year after, it settled in that I wouldn't be seeing you, so I thought I wouldn't even think about you anymore, but...the memory of you, your smile, your kisses, your warmth resurfaces every month, and god, I missed you. And missing you without the possibility of having you is just grieving you."

"...and now I'm here." He leans a bit further away, and you see all of him. You see the way his blue-green eyes are glassed over, and you've no doubt yours are the same; you see the familiar way his hat is perched above his head and how he still wears the top two buttons of his shirt undone and how his smile is just the same.

"And now you're here." You nod.

He places his hands over your wrists, holds them, presses his nose against yours. "I missed you too."

"Mhm?" You hum. Your breaths mingle with his, pressed this close together.

"And I love you, too. Still do."

"Fuck." You laugh, a teary little thing, but it's real and genuine and not a figment of his imagination. "I love you too."

And then you kiss, and he's missed it so much, and you've missed it so much, the two of you. You're slotted together, like pieces of a puzzle. You're not you without him and he's not him without you.

When you part, you wipe a couple stray tears off his cheeks, and he does the same for you.

"Should we..." He chokes a little on his words, then shakes the nerves off. He has you back, and his smile returns. "head back?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we should." You find yourself leaning back in, anyway.

You share another kiss, maybe two. If he'd brought a friend or three along, he'd have signalled them to light the fireworks in his truck to add a little magic to it, even if it already feels like fireworks are going off between your lips.

You could spend eternity like this.

When you've had enough of each other for the moment and finally head back in, your great uncle raises his spoon at you and laughs. "There you are! This soup is amazing, kid!"

Or at least that's what he would've said, had his dentures not gotten stuck in a hard carrot and splashed right back into his bowl.

One of the carrots which you added last, thanks to Tyler's distraction earlier today.

The tornado wrangler of a boyfriend you've regained is laughing his ass off beside you, while you cringe. So much for the perfect soup.

"Come on, (Y/N)." Tyler wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you're so happy he can do it casually again.

"Let's get us a bowl."

#🌸 // success!#🎫 // tyler owens #🎫 // tyler #🎟 // twisters #twisters x male reader #twisters x reader #tyler owens x male reader #tyler owens x reader #💞 // darlings #🌂 // failure #🤬 // swearshirt

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alexander-arcturus-black-lupin · 1 year ago

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Sneaking around

Summary : Draco is being tailed by Harry, but he doesn't know that. He goes to meet his secret Ravenclaw girlfriend y/n.

Harry slid out of Slughorn's party and followed Malfoy. He knew his cloak would be of use as he threw it over him. Draco Malfoy during this whole semester looked sickly and pale but today he looked…Draco.

He followed him through the secret passageway on the third floor that was rarely used; he wondered when Draco had found it. He was so deep in thought he hadn't almost noticed that Draco had stopped.

Suddenly black hair flicked from a corner. Draco lounged and pulled out a laughing Ravenclaw girl.

"Salazar Y/n,"

"Hi~" Draco's scowl dropped and a shy smile made its way there instead.

"Hello," Draco rolled out.

"Your hair is a mess Malfoy, are you actually using your shampoo?"

"Of course I am, i was bloody thrown from Slughorn's stupid party"

"Sounds a bit hmmm jealous, was a certain Harry Potter there?" Harry froze once he heard his name.

"Don't start, you saying his name once is enough,"

"Shall I start calling him the chosen one or the other he who must not be named." Harry was mesmerized by her, it was like she radiated happiness.

Draco shook his head so hard that his hair became more messed up.

"Jeez, Draco relax,"

"Potter's been trailing me lately," Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"If I didn't know any better I'd ship you two," Harry wanted to retch in his hiding place. "Lorminuim"

"That's new," Draco remarked, flopping on a nearby couch. "Made it?"

"Nah 7th years, it's a silencing charm which also acts as an alarm if anyone steps within 10 feet of our invisible bubble we'll know" Harry froze again, if he moved. He'll be in deep trouble.

However everything except for one fact flew over Draco's head as he sat up. "7th Year boys?"

Y/N blinked at him before she threw back her head and laughed. "What if it was a boy?" Y/n teases coming closer. "Mmm, what if it was?"

Draco rolled his eyes. Y/n sat on his lap and cupped his face in her hands. Smooshing his face makes him look like a fish. Harry was still in severe shock.

“I’m yours, mon amor est pour toi et toi sulement,” Draco burst out laughing. “Stop laughing I tried.”

Draco pressed soft kisses into her palm. “I know, bloody accent needs help but, I love you too” he then said something in perfect french. Harry had enough and he, under his cloak, moved backwards inch by inch turning with each step, he did so till he was out.

“Harry?” He spun to find Hermione and Ron behind him. "Harry? You look like you've seen a ghost,"

"Malfoy,"

"Don't tell me you followed him, can you belive this Ron, wait, you knew didn't you," Hermione pointed at Ron's red ears.

"I- Harry what about Malfoy what did you catch him doing,"

"He and y/n are a thing,"

"What? They barely are in the same space at the same time," Hermione said crossing her arms. "I mean yeah, y/n is close to the slytherin boys."

"What-"

******************************************************************************************************************************************************

Somehow news had spread quickly. Mostly thanks to Ron and his, "MALFOY AND Y/N ARE YOU BLOODY SERIOUS MATE" Soon it even reached the love birds themselves.

"Pansy told me that she heard it from Luna who heard it from Ginny who heard it from Ron."Y/n was sitting at the head of Draco's four-poster bed with his head in her lap

"Do you think he caught us snogging somewhere,"

"I would hope not else you won't be getting any." Draco pouted.

You’re cute when you pout

“Thank you,” Draco flushed slightly. She herself blushed, she said that outloud.

"Nevermind, it was probably Potter maybe he tailed me on one of our dates,"

"Maybe," Draco started to play with her hair.

"We can't keep hiding in your dorm, unlike you, a dinner person, I am a breakfast person."

Draco sighed at that. They only had two classes today both after lunch. "Please let's just stay here, just for now,"

"Fine, you owe me,"

Draco just smiled and cuddled into y/n, "I really love you y/n, like a lot that i actually let on" Y/n froze.

"Y/n? Y/n you don't have to say it back, I just-"

"I love you too," Draco sat up and looked at her.

“You don’t need to tell me you love me, I don-” she shut him up with a kiss. Suddenly the door barged open,

“HA PANSY YOU WERE RIGHT COME CHECK THIS OUT,” Blaise in all his glory stood heaving with laughter. Soon they were joined by Pansy Theodore Matheo and Lorenzo. Draco with a wave of his wand had shoved them out and locked them out.

“Why are we friends with them,”

“Say the word and they’re gone,” she laughed an kissed Draco back.

“I’ll think about it, since we’ve been caught and I’m starving, let’s go,” Draco sighed and help her off the bed. “But you’ll still owe me a bunch of snacks later,”

Draco looked at her a small smile on his lips. “Deal,” she smiled and his heart stuttered. He was truly enamored with her.

#draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy x y/n #draco fic #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x you

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evergreen292 · 1 month ago

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Mulan-type Warrior!Penelope AU, anybody?

i saw Warrior!Penelope Swap AU and it's really cool. But i think a Mulan-type Warrior!Penelope AU, without swapping others would be interesting too.

Let's imagine - Odysseus got some permanent injure from his boar encounter, and it was ok from the beginning, but somehow worsen because of harsh Athena's trainings, so Ody is in no shape now to join the war. But he must because of the oath. And Penelope decides to do all the Mulan thing, disguising as her husband. Athena, feeling guilty for her mistake, becomes her patron goddess. Penelope has some time to recover after Telemachus birth and to train while all the troian war greek troops gather. With Athena's disguises, Penelope manages to fool everyone during the first years of war. And then she catches a spear in her chest and the fraud is disclosed. But Athena openly admits Penelope as her champion and she is doing great job as a general, so others decide to let it go on. Penelope's warriors are shocked at first, but accept the situation too. Eurylochus is sceptical, Polites is delighted, they both become slightly overprotective. Being Athena's champion, Penelope isn't "a mere woman" so she mostly escapes the period-typical sexism. And than the Epic starts. I think, that Penelope could not bring herself to kill the infant, so Athena leaves her because of this foolish and emotional decision (and cause war is over, and their agreement too, Penelope's gonna go home now, what bad could happen?)

And than the cyclops happen. And maybe, being a male, he doesn't treat Penelope seriously so her attempts for peace are in wain and her men still die and she still blinds the cyclops and reveal her name in grief and in attempt to prove that a woman can be a threat for a monster too. And now Poseidon isn't that much pissed (cause his son was foolish enough to get blinded by a woman) and mostly curious, but still has a reputation to hold, "ruthlessness is mercy", so he drowns the fleet anyway. But he spares her and her ship, cause, being zeus' brother after all, wants some closer contact with such an interesting woman. So wind bag happens anyway... and they start running from Poseidon, while Penelope struggles with growing distrust from her crew, desperately trying to return home to her husband and child, and gradually becomes a monster of her own...

In this variant Hermes could possible not participate in Circe saga, cause Penelope doesn't relate to him and is in less danger from Circe than any man. Maybe no Scilla cause mutiny takes place earlier, but with killing cows and really disturbing now thunder bringer

It can became more like comedy, with some funny courtship from Poseidon, including talking dolphins, (this way all blinding and drowning fleet situations can be soften) or it can be really dark, one woman and a child among a bunch of angry and desperate men, running from the horny god...

#epic the musical #Warrior!Penelope AU #penelope #athena #poseidon #polites #eurylochus

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runariya · 2 months ago

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THE TRIBUTE • 1

pairing: alien prince!Jungkook x human tribute!female reader genre: dark romance, gore, alien!AU, survival!AU, slow burn, angst, S2L rating: MDNI, 18+ warnings: being chosen as a tribute word count: 3.2k

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

masterlist • 02

The fall of Earth wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t marked by fire or chaos that reigned for years, the kind of spectacle you might expect in an invasion. No, the aliens came quietly, without the usual drama of war. It began with whispers, transmissions intercepted by governments that never stood a chance. They arrived one day in ships larger than cities, hanging in the sky like indifferent gods, their presence screaming authority, and the sky cracked open completely and they finally descended, there wasn’t much left to fight for, really. The endless wars in the past had drained the Earth dry, and the alien empire had swept in to take whatever remained. The human race was too weak to resist, the shattered people in all cities too broken to protect themselves. So the world bowed, bent at the knee, in a way that had nothing to do with honour and everything to do with survival.

Their message was simple: Earth would continue, but under their rule. No destruction, no immediate casualties. Just quiet domination, the slow drip of submission. They called it mercy. They showed themselves as saviours—protectors, even. And somehow, despite the bitter taste it left in your mouth, humans believed them. Or at least, they didn’t fight one bit.

The royal family appeared everywhere, almost immediately, their images plastered across screens, on every corner, in every home. Prince Jungkook’s face in particular—a cold beauty—became a constant, a symbol of human survival. His name carried weight, and the people spoke it with reverence, though they were too afraid to admit the fear that simmered beneath. He was praised, all of them were, for sparing you. Sparing Earth from what, though? You were never told.

They broadcast it endlessly, the aliens, with their vibrant robes and strange customs, framed like some divine intervention, their vibrant colours contrasting the dullness that had consumed your live. While they basked in hues of gold and crimson, sapphire and emerald, humans were reduced to grey. Everything was grey now—the buildings, the streets, the sky, and the clothes you wore. It was as if the very life had been drained from Earth, leaving behind only muted shades of what the race once was. The grey uniforms became a symbol of submission, handed out without explanation, worn without protest. A world washed clean of individuality, of hope.

But the aliens—oh, they were different. Every glimpse of them was an assault of colour, a reminder of their power. Wherever they were shown, they brought with them the vibrancy humans were no longer allowed, flaunting their dominance with every shade, every rich fabric that swirled around them like a taunt and warning simultaneously.

Then there was the tribute system. No one spoke of it openly. No one dared. You were told from a young age that it was necessary, that it kept you all safe, but no one knew what it truly meant. Why, every year, a selection was made—human lives bartered like cattle. There was no resistance, no explanation, only the silent understanding that those taken were never seen again. And somehow, that became the new normal. The tributes vanished into the unknown space, and the earth continued in its quiet, grey monotony.

We had been spared, they said. Prince Jungkook had spared us. But at what cost? No one dared ask.

You’re standing in a crowd now, one among many young humans, yet utterly alone, shoulders drawn tight beneath the weight of a thousand unspoken fears, but you keep your expression flat, indifferent. It’s easier that way. Easier not to feel anything at all.

In the centre of the square, a screen hangs suspended between two decayed skyscrapers, flickering with static before the broadcast begins. You’re used to this routine, this cold display of power, yet the discomfort in your gut has never fully disappeared. And you’re sure, it never will. The emissary’s face appears, stark and inhuman, its features angular, skin pale like polished bone with robes in colours you only dare to dream of. Its voice, when it speaks, grates against your ears, the tone full of glee and dripping with fake warmth, as if this day is worth celebrating.

It echoes across the crumbling square, sweeping through the huddled bodies of your fellow survivors. You’ve seen these broadcasts before, year after year, but this time feels different, this time *is* different. This time, it’s your name they call.

“The tribute for Sector Seven has been chosen. Proceed to the transport at once.”

Your name lingers in the air like smoke, curling through your mind, clinging to the moment. The word ‘tribute’ isn’t one that carries any hope. It’s a word that’s always meant the end of something—of freedom, of choice, and most likely, of life. Still, there’s no time to let the weight of it fully sink in. You feel the crowd shift around you, parting like a tide as eyes slide toward you, pity laced into their avoidance. Some are grateful it’s not them. Others, too defeated to care.

It’s never you until it is.

For a second, the world slows down, your pulse thudding heavy in your ears full of loud static, but the moment passes. It always does. You move before your mind catches up, limbs stiff and mechanical, pushing through the parting crowd. No one stops you. No one offers a word of sympathy. This is the nature of things now: survival is solitary, and everyone knows better than to linger too long on the misfortune of others. Still, you catch a few murmurs from those who watch you pass, low and bitter, the sort of things you’d expect from a world this broken. They’re just glad it isn’t them.

Your heart is hammering, but you keep it all locked down beneath the surface. The last thing you need is to look weak. Not now when ever single step is being watched. Not when every single step brings you closer to something that feels disturbingly like an ending.

The transport waits at the edge of the square, flanked by two of the empire’s soldiers. You’ve seen them before, standing rigid in their black armour, eyes hidden behind dark visors, their bodies almost too still to seem real. Like statues made of metal, empty of anything remotely human. As you approach, they don’t say a word, just gesture for you to board the ship. You pause for a moment at the threshold, the icy air from the interior licking at your skin, and for a heartbeat, you consider running. You won’t get far, but the urge is there, instincts flaring despite everything you know better. You’ve seen enough of these proceedings to know how it works: once chosen, there’s no refusal, no escape. You either go willingly or you’re dragged. Sometimes even killed, for what a human life is worth? Nothing.

Then you step forward. You have no choice.

The door hisses shut behind you, locking with a sound that reverberates through your bones. Inside, the transport is colder than you’d imagined, the scent of metal and machinery filling your lungs as you take your seat. You glance around, noticing the others who sit in similar silence, fellow tributes from the other six sectors—strangers, like you, plucked from whatever remained of their lives and thrown into this nightmare.

First, they don’t look at you. No one does. It’s easier that way, but you notice in an instant that you’re the smallest, the weakest, and it doesn’t help you keep the calm facade.

The transport jolts to life, the vibrations of the engines buzzing in the hollow space as it lifts off the ground. You try to settle yourself, to calm the rapid beat of your heart, but it’s impossible. Your fingers curl into the cold metal of the seat, knuckles white, as the city below shrinks away into the haze of clouds. There’s a finality to the way the world drops away, as if you’ve already crossed a line that you can never come back from, and in a way, it is.

The flight is long, though it’s impossible to tell how much time passes. You try not to think about what awaits you and close your eyes for a moment, blocking out your surroundings as best you can. Your mind drifts to the stories whispered among survivors—about what happens to tributes once they’re taken. None of the stories ever end well. Some say tributes are sold as slaves in the alien capital, while others suggest a more gruesome fate, that humans are used for experiments, their bodies discarded when no longer useful. But the truth is worse. It’s always worse.

But eventually, the descent begins slowly, the engines of the transport humming a low, ominous tone as the planet emerges from the veil of clouds below. The view from the narrow window is breathtaking, though it sickens you with the cruel reality of what Earth once was. Colours stretch across the landscape like a painter’s wildest dream—rolling fields of emerald green, rivers shimmering in shades of turquoise and cobalt, vast forests alive with every hue of autumn flame, though it is not autumn here. This planet pulses with life, chaotic and untouched, where nothing has been crushed beneath the fist of control. It is almost too much to bear.

You glance again at the other six tributes, each taken from their corners of Earth. They still sit in absolute silence, their faces sunken, the knowledge of what is to come clinging to the air between you all like a shared sickness. From the strength in their postures, the way their muscles rest beneath their skin, you can see the warriors they’ve become, they are. They carry the defiance of continents long broken—one for each, their bloodlines ancient, their strength unremarkably deep. And then there’s you. The smallest, most fragile among them, bones light under skin that bruises too easily. Even among humans, you’re the weakest, and you can feel now their judging eyes on you, wondering how someone like you was chosen.

The planet grows closer, the sky a vivid canvas of swirling pinks and golds, like a sunset that refuses to end. Yet, despite the beauty, despite the life that thrives below you, there’s a cold dread lodged deep in your being, one that rises the further you descend. You’ve heard the stories, the whispers of what awaits you on this planet. They tell you nothing directly, only that the arena lies somewhere in the depths of these vibrant lands, and within it, your survival is uncertain.

The transport shudders as it touches down, and you take in a silent breath, steadying yourself. The door slides open, and a gust of warm air rushes in, alive with the scent of wildflowers and soil, so different from the stagnant, metallic stench of the ship and earth. You step out, heart hammering, but your face remains impassive. There are soldiers waiting, but it’s the roar of the crowd behind them that hits you like a wall, an overwhelming volume of voices, cheers, and alien dialect twisted into strange pronounced syllables, all celebrating your arrival as though you were some kind of fallen star, a spectacle to be adored.

The air pulses with their excitement, their bodies draped in vibrant silks that shimmer in the sunlight, arms outstretched, reaching for you, for any tribute who will acknowledge their praise, multiple cameras capturing every second of your arrival. Some of the others bask in it—grinning, high-fiving the aliens, taking selfies as though they are celebrities, lifted by the wild adoration, their smiles wide as they revel in this twisted reception. Others shrink back, shoulders hunched, their steps faltering as they cower beneath the push of all that attention, heads ducked low to avoid the eager hands reaching for them.

But you—you keep your gaze forward, eyes locked on the path ahead, walking in a straight line behind the soldiers, schooling your face in indifference as best as you can. You try to give the madness no mind, let the noise wash over you like a storm you refuse to feel, to keep moving, refusing to be drawn into their chaos, not once glancing at the faces that strain to catch a glimpse of you.

The city stretches before you, impossibly alive. Unlike the greys and browns of Earth, this place is a riot of colours—buildings that glow with warm light, spiralling upwards in organic, twisting shapes that seem to grow from the ground itself. There is no straight line here, no harsh edges or industrial steel. Everything is too perfect, too lush, and yet, beneath the beauty, you sense a hidden darkness, something far more sinister than the flowers and trees would ever reveal.

The palace comes into view not long after, a structure made of golden, glistening stone, it’s opulence disgusting you to no limit, and as you all are led inside, your eyes flit briefly to the faces of your fellow tributes. They hold themselves with the knowledge of their fate, some resigned, others still clinging to the fragments of hope that burn just beneath their skin.

But you—what do you have but the defiance that hardens your jaw, that straightens your spine as the warmth of the palace washes over you? The silence here is rather oppressive, the sight of centuries of power pressing down on your fragile form. It feels like walking into the belly of the beast, swallowed whole by something vast and ancient, and all you can do is keep walking, keep breathing.

Prince Jungkook waits in the heart of it with seven nobly dressed men beside him. You’ve seen his image before every day multiple times, flashed across screens on Earth as if he were a god come down to walk among men. He’s a prince, they say, though it is not a title that means anything human. He does’t smile in those images, his face always carved from stone, eyes dark and unreadable, framed by robes of the richest, most vibrant colours—the kind that remind you of the flowers that no longer bloom on Earth. Here, in his palace, he is more imposing, more tall, more handsome than the images allowed.

He watches you all as you are brought into his presence, though his eyes linger on you for longer than the others. His gaze is assessing, and as he takes in your small form, something flickers there—curiosity, perhaps. You’re nothing like the others, not even close. They are all built for survival, muscles honed and bodies strong, their hands made for fighting. But you... you are delicate, too easily breakable, and Jungkook sees it instantly.

And yet, there is something in you that stirs his interest. You stand with a defiance that belies your fragile frame, your chin lifted high despite the obvious weakness of your body. He wonders how you’ve survived this long—whether it’s strength of mind or just sheer stubbornness that’s kept you alive. His curiosity piques as he steps down from his platform, moving with the grace of a predator who knows its prey has no real chance of escape.

Jungkook circles you all, the sound of his steps soft against the polished stone floor, his eyes never leaving your face. You can feel his gaze on you, piercing cold, as if you’re some strange creature he’s never encountered before. There’s no warmth in his presence, nothing that speaks of mercy or understanding. He’s power, pure and untouchable, and the thought of what he could do to you without even lifting a finger is enough to send your mind into survival mode.

But you won’t give him that satisfaction. You won’t cower before him, no matter how small you feel beneath his gaze, his so much taller frame. Your heart races in your temples, blood rushing to your brain to keep alert, but your expression remains neutral, your hands clenched tightly at your sides, nails biting into your delicate skin of your palms. You’ve already decided that if this is where you die, you won’t die with your head bowed. Never.

Jungkook eventually stops in front of you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in with his head slightly tilted. There’s something almost amused in his dark eyes now, as if he finds your defiance intriguing, though he’d never admit it aloud. “Fragile,” he states, the word rolling off his tongue like an observation rather than an insult. “But not afraid.”

His voice is low, almost a whisper, and it sends a tremor through you, though you refuse to let it show. He’s testing you, pushing to see where your breaking point is. You meet his gaze head-on, refusing to flinch under the intensity of it.

“They say humans are resilient,” he continues, his tone almost mocking. “That you fight, even when there’s nothing left to fight for. Is that true?”

You don’t respond. You’re not sure you could if you wanted to. The intensity of his presence is suffocating, leaving you nowhere to escape, while his words challenge you, daring you to break, to bend under the pressure of who he is.

But you don’t.

“Fight,” his voice’s dropping to a whisper. “Or die. Those are your only options now.”

“Watch me,” you say quietly, your voice steady, though your heart feels like it might pound out of your chest.

He tilts his head, a small smile curling at the corner of his lips, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I will,” he murmurs, and the threat in his words lingers in the whole grand room.

Without another word, he steps back, dismissing you as easily as he might a piece of furniture. You all are nothing to him, and yet, there’s a flicker of something in his gaze as he turns away. Interest, perhaps.

The guards step forward, the seven men too, grabbing your arms and dragging you from the room. You knew this wouldn’t be simple. You knew there’d be danger. But now, standing on the precipice of whatever fate awaits you, the reality of it all begins to truly sink in.

They don’t take you far—just to a small, cold room with nothing but a bed and a single window that looks out over the sprawling city. The guards leave you there, locking the door behind them with one of the seven men, dressed as vibrant as everyone on this planet, standing right beside you.

It’s quiet now, save for the faint steps of the guards outside, but the silence is anything but comforting. And as you turn to face the man beside you, you don’t really want to know what will happen next. All you need to know is that the fight is coming like it always does.

And the next words coming from the man confirm just that—you, a mere human among alien gods, have been chosen to survive it. Or die trying.

„I’m Namjoon, your trainer for the Tribute Game.“

masterlist • 02

a/n 2: hope you've enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like!

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taglist: @strawberryberrygirl

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pastafossa · 1 month ago

Text

"You’re who I want." (Michael Kinsella x F!Reader)

Time for Day 3 of the Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! For Day Three, I chose to combine the fluff and angst prompts ("I feel real when I'm with you" and 'Broken'), and I also decided to try my hand at one of Charlie Cox's other characters for once, that being our favorite sad, tragic, sweetheart of a mobster Michael Kinsella! You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! And off we go!

Ship: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Wordcount: 2k

Warnings for this fic: mentions of blood, kiss at the end, angst (but with a happy ending obvs)

It was Birdy that called you right as you were getting ready to settle in for the night, the heavy downpour a drumbeat against your windows that you’d hoped would lull you into a peaceful sleep. But that wasn’t in your cards tonight, it seemed.

“He’s headed yer way. Things… didn’t go well tonight.”

Not for the first time, you quietly cursed the way the Kinsellas had dragged Michael back into their business as you dug out the first aid kit, setting it beside a change of clothes and a few clean towels to help Michael dry off from the rain when he arrived. You didn’t care what the Kinsellas got up to on their own time, who they sold to and what their family business was. What you cared about was whether Michael had actually wanted this. You knew he'd had different plans when he'd finally gotten out of prison, plans of a quieter, more peaceful life. But he was a loyal man, one who was endlessly devoted to his family, and that loyalty, that devotion was something Amanda was all too happy to take advantage of.

You had thoughts on her, too, but much like your night's rest, it would also have to wait.

“We lost a few o’ ours. He managed ta turn it around at the last second, but… Well, the family argued after. Things were said to him, and…”

Some nights, nights much like these, you wondered just how long Michael had left before he broke beneath the weight of expectation and grim responsibility. It was a burden he shouldered without complaint, even as it became clear he was destined to crumble beneath it. In the two years since you’d met that beautiful, quiet man in a small coffee shop, you’d watched those brittle cracks form, line by line. Over time, as he'd gradually begun to let you in, you’d discovered far deeper fissures that lay buried beneath his fractured armor. Your lack of fear, your absence of judgement over what he’d done in the past, had only pried open that door further until he sought you out with regularity, just as you did him. Time passed, and your orbits revolved closer and closer together, spiraling planets caught inescapably in the pull of each other’s gravity.

Neither of you had named what this was between you. But if he could find comfort here, safety here, then you’d happily give it.

“Just… be gentle with him, dear.”

Somehow, even the quiet knock at your door sounded exhausted. You hurried out of the kitchen where you’d been filling up the kettle—you’d learned very quickly how important it was to have it ready at all hours when you’d moved to Ireland—and headed down the warm hall to the front door. You unlocked the door and tugged it open, letting in the roaring sound of the pouring rain and a gust of chilled, bitter wind.

“Oh, Michael,” you whispered.

He was soaked down to the bone, his dark hair plastered against his skin as he leaned tiredly against the doorframe, his body wracked with shivers from the cold. What was worse: even with the rain, you could still see traces of blood on his shirt and his hands, with more of it leaking steadily from a ragged split on his lip. Fortunately, only the blood on his mouth seemed to belong to him. He tried to throw you a small smile, but it was far too crooked, too brittle to be real, and you had a feeling his eyes weren’t red because of the rain. The moment he realized you didn’t buy the act, that shield fell away, and you were left with just Michael at his most exposed, empty and limp on your doorstep.

“That bad, eh?” he asked tiredly, trying for dark humor and missing by miles.

“Shit, get in here before you freeze.” You caught his sleeve and tugged him forward until you could shut the door behind him. He didn’t fight you on it physically, for which you were grateful, but he couldn’t seem to resist at least a little verbal stubbornness.

“I’m gettin’ yer floors all wet,” he said distantly. Without the need to pretend, his tone had gone empty and lifeless, drained of all energy as if he’d used up what little he had left on the walk over. He dropped his head slowly, staring down at the growing puddle of rainwater on the floor, his face twisting through an unreadable expression. “‘M sorry, pet. I shouldn’t have—”

“Floors can be dried, Mikey.” You waved the objection away, locking the door before turning back to Michael where he was still standing shivering in the hall, curled into himself as if he were reluctant to take up any further space, as if he feared he were unwelcome. And something about it, about the way he seemed to barely be holding himself together, just… broke your heart. “Come here.”

He shivered again, even as he shook his head, arms wrapped around himself. You could almost see him changing his mind, a wave of regret rearing up inside him, flashing in the dark of his eyes, eyes still looking too damp for just the rain. “I’ll… I’ll get blood on ya.” “I don’t care.”

He clenched his jaw, still refusing to meet your eye, a sign of just how bad things had gone for him. Some of the blood on his clothes and skin had joined the puddle of rainwater at his feet, the pale tile darkening to a tinted, rusty pink. And that only seemed to make him feel worse, as it seeped into the grooves and lines between each tile, staining it. “No, I-I shoulda stopped ‘a home first, cleaned up. And it’s late, yer clearly dressed for bed. We can talk another time—”

You crossed the distance between you both before he could take a single step towards the front door. He went stiff and rigid, closed off the moment you pulled him into you, but you let him work through it as you wound your arms tightly around him, hooking the fingers of one hand in his belt loops. You had to make it clear you weren’t going anywhere. You used the other hand to stroke gently down his back, heedless of the water and blood that began to dampen your clothes, breathing in the scent of warm whiskey and leather, of gun oil and fresh rain and blood. “Stop worrying about my clothes or the floors, you silly man,” you said softly, setting your chin on his shoulder. His breath hitched at your voice, his arms still locked between you, a barrier you knew he needed help to break down. “I don’t care about those. I care about you, Michael. No matter what happens, that won’t change. I’ll stand here all night with you if I have to.”

He choked out a shaking breath against your hair, and you could feel it the moment he began to break, his arms tentatively unwinding so his hands could find their way around your waist. Almost as if he were still convinced his touch, his need for comfort would be rejected. Something far warmer than rain dripped against your neck. “Why?” he whispered. “I don’t understand. I have nothin’ to give ya. To give anyone. I keep tryin’ to be what everyone needs, but I can’t even do tha’ right. Why do ya keep openin’ the door for a broken man, pet?”

“You might be hurt, but you’re far from broken,” you murmured, turning your head to lay it on his shoulder as his hold gradually tightened around you, his hands fisting in the fabric of your shirt. Another shaky breath rattled out of him, more of his tears rolling down your throat until he finally let his head fall to your neck, accepting what you’d offered. “I open the door because I just need you, exactly as you are. You’re who I want. So you can let go, Mikey. There’s nothing here you need to fix, no one else you need to be.”

That was all it took, and between one breath and the next, he crumbled in your arms, the entire terrible night, terrible year, terrible life tearing its way out of him in choked, ragged sobs, the sounds of someone who hadn't been able to let go for some time. You held him as tightly as you could, soft, comforting whispers in his ears, your hands running gently down his back and back up through his hair as he let fall every last wall he’d put up between him and the outside world.

It took time for that cresting wave of emotion to ease, time you spent with your head on his shoulder, with your chest to his, until eventually the shaking of his body began to slow, his breath easing against your throat into something slower and gentler. Only then did you guide him to the bathroom, setting him down on the side of the tub so you could clean him up. He accepted the care in silence, his eyes half closed, his form slumped and exhausted, drained after the emotional release. You knew better than to press before he was ready—and besides, people had demanded enough out of him tonight without you adding to it—so you let the quiet have its place as you bandaged him up, cleaning the blood from his hands and drying him off without so much as a hint of judgment. Whenever his breath grew a little shaky again, you’d lift his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles to remind him he was safe.

You left him alone just long enough for him to change, and you were grateful you'd both decided he should keep a few changes of clothes here. It was another unspoken intimacy between you both, this knowledge that your home was a retreat for him just as his home sometimes was for you, even if neither of you had said as much. Once he was changed and he stepped out of the bathroom, dark eyes immediately seeking you out, you tipped your head in a request he follow you before heading towards the bedroom.

He hesitated, and you paused in the doorway, waiting.

It wasn’t every time he came here that you both wound up curled up together. So far, it only seemed to happen on those bad nights, those nights when one of you needed the other’s presence to act as a shield against nightmares, against waves of grief or bloodied hurt. Until now, however, those moments had always taken place on the couch, the two of you dozing off together under the excuse that you’d never intended to fall asleep at all and well, it was late, wasn't it? It was expected. Tonight, however, you just… thought he deserved a bed.

That you and he had never taken this step before hung heavy between you, weighted and intimate as he considered you, his gaze shifting over your shoulder to the open doorway in thought. Neither of you had dared offer access to the other’s bed until now. Hell, you hadn’t even kissed yet, though there’d been… moments when you’d both come close, dancing along that edge, driven by adrenaline or alcohol or just a quiet moment when you both seemed to be drawn into it. But there was no alcohol now, no mistaking the shift in the air. There’d be no going back after this, no more pretending, even if no one had believed either of you before now when you’d both sworn you were simply good friends.

After a long moment… the soft padding of his footsteps began to follow.

The bed came first, soft sheets and the gradually returning warmth of him, one of your arms draped over his waist as he buried his face in your hair, the two of you twined together so closely that there was no space at all between you.

Then came his voice, the soft lilt of it soothing you as much as your touch seemed to be soothing him.

“I don’t know what I’d do without ya,” he murmured, his breath slowly easing down into something like peace, like contentment. He nuzzled at you gently, and you tipped your head up to meet his eyes. The warmth in them stole your breath away, filled with tender light and a devotion so deep you knew you could spend the rest of your life searching for the bottom and never find it. “Every time I think I’ve lost who I am again, yer there to bring me back. I just… I feel real when I’m with ya. I…”

His eyes searched yours for a moment before he seemed to make a decision. He dipped his head down slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. Instead, you tilted your head back, your hand sliding up to tangle in his damp hair as his lips finally met yours.

Your first kiss with him was a soft, new thing, fragile as spun strands of glass. His lips still tasted a little of copper and whiskey, skin chapped from the cold night air, but his breath was warm, and his mouth moved against yours with a growing confidence as you leaned into him, using your fingers in his hair to pull him in closer, his beard a pleasant scrape against your skin. His name on your lips was a sigh, a gift to him, one he breathed in as if he wanted to draw it down into the very heart of him. When he finally pulled away, he laid his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering closed as he just... breathed with you. You reached up to stroke your fingers warmly against his cheek, and he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, though he didn't seem ready to open them just yet. “Wanted ta do that for a while, now,” he admitted. “Since not long after we met, if ’m honest.” “I may or may not have wanted the same thing,” you huffed softly, his smile growing wider.

“Can I take ya to breakfast tomorrow?”

You made a contented noise as you curled into him, and he wound around you, the two of you getting comfortable for the night. It felt… permanent, as if you two had simply been waiting to find your way here, this place you were both meant for.

“I’d love that.”

And maybe tomorrow... you'd tell him you loved him, too.

#tuna-tober 2024 #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella #kin #fic #fanfic #reader #reader insert #x reader #angst #fluff #emotional hurt/comfort #tw: blood #or mentions of it anyway #in which we all just want to give him a hug and hold him and tell him he can just be loved for a while #i hope i did this right like i am N E R V O U S about writing him for the first time #he was very cooperative and was just seemingly happy to have some attention which is great cause i adore him #10/10 would be his mob wife

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