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kenyummy · 3 months ago

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✰ 01. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 01. sparkless life.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: guys i couldnt resist posting criesssss . also master is used as a gender neutral term!!!! couldn't be bothered to put master/mistress every time so

prev. ✰ masterlist. ✰ next.

When you wake up, your eyes are permeated by a hard light. Your eyes are squinted hard and you're having a difficult time getting your eyes to focus.

Your brain is fuzzy and feels like melted candy in your head. What was going on, again...? This bed... it's really comfy. It's like laying on a bed made of clouds, fairy dust, and your hopes and dreams.

(Nothing like your lumpy mattress back home... May told you it built character.)

You reach your hand up, to try and block out the harsh glare directed right into your retina. It dims in a second, and for a moment—you think you've finally developed mutant powers of telekinesis. You sit up—only to discover you were not actually the one who turned off said lights.

"Apologies, Master [name]." An older man with a distinct British accent stands in the door—a few feet away from the bed you're resting on. "I did not realise you had awoken already. I would've turned down the lights, if I was aware."

You blink, surveying the room around you. It's big. Unfamiliar, as well. Modern. Really big. Wait, did he just call you—

"Master [name]?" Your mouth moves faster than your mind, and your brows furrow deep. "What... where am I?"

The older man looks genuinely puzzled at how defensive your stance is. "Oh dear. Perhaps you did end up getting lead poisoning. Or a concussion. ... No matter. This recent amnesia is common within traumatic injuries."

He clears his throat with strict elegance and straightens his posture, "[name]. I believe you were attacked in an alleyway, when your brother found you. You were in the hospital for a few days, and brought back here—back home—this morning. You're currently in one of your father's guest rooms. The doctors said you were healing miraculously fast."

You hiss lowly. You really hope they hadn't gotten a blood sample—you haven't had the best of experiences with people getting your blood.

"You seem to be alright now. A bit..." He looks at your exposed, scarred shoulders. "Scuffed up—but better than when Master Jason had found you."

Your brother... Jason...? Who even...?

What's going on here?

Your heart seems to skip a beat as the calculations start going off in your head. A world you had never heard of... a place you'd never seen before—perhaps you weren't on a different world, and like you had suspected... it was definetly some multiverse shenanigans again.

You knew you should've made Jess take that mission instead of you. Damn. You and your dumb rivalry with Doc.

But you couldn't understand why this random man knows you. He speaks as if you've lived a life with him—like he's known you since...

You chew down on your bottom lip. "... This is... my home. I live here, don't I...?"

You play with words cautiously, speaking slow and methodical. It only serves to confuse the man even further.

"Yes, you... do? Master [name], perhaps you should go back to the hospital. You're sounding rather frazzled—"

You almost jump up, out of the sheets, "Uh—no! I... I'm fine. My head's just a bit... messed up right now. Sorry."

It's not—after that flashbang, you're feeling fine. Your shoulder only burns with a stretch whenever you put too much pressure on it—but you're completely okay otherwise. But you don't think you should let him know that just yet.

"If you insist, Master [name]." He bows his head. "Do you require any further assistance?"

You blink, considering your choices.

Eventually, you land on the safest option. Search your surroundings. Find out what's going on here before going all Spider-ham on them. For all you know—they're super skrulls waiting for the right moment to strike. You need to be smart about this.

"Yes... I would like to go to my room... could you... walk me there?" You don't meet his stern gaze. "I'm not sure I'm able to walk on my own two feet just yet. I'm sorry."

You don't see how his stare softens at your words. "Of course, Master [name]."

He walks over to the edge of the bed and steadies you with a hand on your shoulder as you shakily stumble out of the bed. It's bouncy enough to launch you forward slightly—and it takes every muscle in your body to stop your Spidey-instincts from taking over and jumping backwards.

He slips your arm within his and steadies you as you both slowly walk out of the large guest room. If this was a guest room—you wonder what your room looked like.

The hallways weren't anything to sneeze at, either. Decorated with contemporary art pieces—sleek and so shiny you could see your face in the tiles below your bare feet. You felt so out of place—the civilian clothes you sported since you got here still dressed your body, and it wasn't even close to fitting in.

As you stumble down the halls with a bit of overdramacy, a man suddenly appears from around a corner. Deep black hair and the brightest blue eyes you'd ever seen. His smile is wide and he waves enthusiastically, "Hey, Alfred! I got back from Blüdhaven after uh—I heard what happened."

"Hello, Master Dick. It's lovely to see you back home again." Alfred nods his head. The man in question—Dick, apparently, which makes the immature teen in you giggle—gives you a sorrowful expression.

But... doesn't say anything past that. He continues small talk with Alfred—and you're left propped up in the older man's arms with a lost expression.

Did he... just blow you off?

One—that was pretty rude. Two, did he not just say he came back after he heard what happened? Not to toot your own horn or anything—but you'd assume being shot kind of counts as a "what happened".

You press your lips firmly together. This was getting awkward for you, especially seeing how comfortable this huge Dick (yeah, you're taking it and running with it) seemed to be with leaving this sickly, wounded (maybe you're being a tad dramatic) person to stumble like a baby fawn, in silence.

Alfred, however—catches sight of your one-sided tension, and abruptly ends his conversation. "My apologies, Master Dick, but I must help [name] to their room. I would love to continue this conversation at a later date."

"Oh yeah, no sweat, Alfred." He gives the older man a gleeful thumbs up. Then, his eyes meet yours. "Get better soon, okay?"

You avert his stare and only nod in response. Well, at least he noticed you were there. You're still in mild shock, but you somehow manage to keep a pleasant expression. With one last small smile, Dick walks away—where, you don't really care about.

Alfred slowly helps you up a flight of stairs. He only breaks the silence after you find yourself standing in front of a room with a faded name on it. Your name. "... All these years, and only now, you've suddenly changed. I wonder..."

His words are cryptic, but his expression even more so. What was he talking about? "... Huh?"

A small smile fades on his face. "Ah... no. It's nothing. I was thinking out loud. Call me if you need anything else, Master [name]. I am at your service. And please... get better soon."

Somehow, it sounds nicer when he says it. You smile a little, and give him a nod.

"Thank you..." You test out his name on your tongue. It feels natural. "Alfred. I'll try my best."

He leaves with a curt nod and not another word. You finally slide the door open, and take a look around.

You step inside, and it's like you've entered a whole new world, again.

It's... small. Not by regular standards—it's almost double the size of your room at home—but compared to a guest bedroom in this overly massive home... it's rather small. Like a closet, more than a bedroom.

It's empty, too. Your room at home is decorated with posters and trinkets of your favourite shows, pictures of you with Harry and MJ (sometimes even the four), and memorable items you've collected with your friends and family over the years.

Memories. You had memories.

There is nothing here.

It's like you're standing in a blank slate—in a world where you are nothing and yet everything you've ever had. It sends a chill down your spine.

You walk barefoot across cold wood and take a seat on the bedsheets. Bare white with a childish print. Something a young child would use. It looks pretty scuffed up. Old. The mattress creaks under your weight and you wince.

There's a bookshelf just opposite to you. There's not much in it—in fact, it's smaller than small and is almost completely empty. There's nothing but school textbooks and thick novels. And...

It catches your eye almost immediately. A little pink slip in the midst of deep black and brown colours. You stand up—ignoring the creak that follows—and walk over to the shelf.

You slip the book out, and immediately take in its cover. Pink, and with your name in wonky cursive. It's rather dusty, as if it hadn't even been touched in years.

You flip open the cover. Big bubble letters spelling out My diary flash you and you quickly flip the page before the glitter sears into your eyelids.

The first entry is there. Exactly seven years and two months ago. It's nothing like those entries you've seen on those corny 2000's TV shows for tweens—nor is it like those aesthetic journaling girls on Pwinterest.

It's something, familiarly, you. A short clunk of text about your day, on days that had some sort of exciting event going on—something you'd undoubtedly do. It almost makes you grimace.

This whole multiverse thing might be worse than you thought.

Two days ago I moved into a new house. My mom said she couldn't take care of me anymore, and I had to live with my dad. I've never seen him until today, but he's really busy, so we don't talk much. Alfred is nice to me, and his cooking is really yummy.

There's a little sketch of a baked dinner—and despite your pre-tween art skills, it does seem rather tasty looking.

You flip the page. The next entry is a week after the last.

I still haven't talked with dad yet. But I did meet two new people. Alfred said that they're my new brothers. Mom never wanted any more babies, so I was very excited to meet them! Jason is fun to play with. He's really bad at hide and go seek, though—I always win! Dick is fun too, but he's busy a lot, like dad. But he always makes time for me and Jason. I really like it here.

There's a small picture of three stick people holding hands. One is significantly short than the other two—labelled with your name above. The one on the left to you is Jason, with black curls and a wide grin. The one on the right is labelled Dickie, much taller than the other two and with shaggy black hair.

The drawing is innocent. Cute. Wholesome, if you will. There's even heart stickers pasted (and peeling, by now) between each of your heads.

You flip the page with a small, fond smile. The next entry is three days after that one.

Dad played with me, Jason, and Dickie today. He was really bad at hide and go seek too—but Dad and Jason chased each other all around the house before I caught both of them. I was so happy I won today! Dad took us all out for dinner, even Alfred. Alfred said he only came because I always look very happy when we're together. The dinner was really yummy!!!!

The drawing underneath is a picture of what looked like a smaller version of you, standing triumphantly with a little tiara on your head.

You flip the page. This time—there's a significant gap between the dates. This was a whole 5 months after you last wrote in your diary.

I don't know where Jason is. Dad and Dickie look really sad. They've been really busy for a long time, and we don't play much anymore. The only times I see Dad is at dinner. But we don't talk. Sometimes he doesn't eat dinner, either. Alfred still puts my drawings on the fridge, and he says that Dad and Dickie are just sad now, and they'll be better soon. I miss Jason. I want him back home.

There's no silly-looking drawing to go underneath this entry. This Jason—apparently the man who saved you—seemed rather fun-loving, despite whatever happened to him. You wonder what it was.

You flip the page, again. This entry was 3 months after the last.

I miss Dad, and Dickie. Dickie told me he had to go away for a bit, because he has something important to do somewhere else. Dad is busy all the time. I haven't seen him in 4 days. I don't play with anyone but Alfred now, but he's not that fun to play with, because he's so serious all the time. Dad tells me to go on my iPad and not bother Alfred when I'm bored, but I miss them.

Next one is 2 days after.

I met a new boy today. Dad told me he's my new brother. I was pretty excited because he's my age. But he didn't want to talk to me. He said he was too caught up in important stuff, and that I should just come back later. But he looked real annoyed when saying it—so I didn't come back. He didn't say anything, so I don't think he cared.

A week later.

My dad is Batman, and my new brother is Robin. I'm freaking out. He never told me—I saw them sneaking out one day and I got really mad. Why didn't he tell me? Did Dickie and Jason know? Was I the only one who didn't? Tim got mad at me when I started yelling. I felt really sad so I hid in my room to get away from them. I've been here since. Alfred brought me dinner, but I'm not hungry.

So... this Batman who you saw before, is actually your dad? In this world, this is your father? You almost drop the diary in shock, but you can't tear your eyes away. You can't stop reading.

The next few entries don't catch your eye—it's all teen angst about how you're sick of how busy your dad is, how annoying Tim can be, how Dick won't even visit your room anymore—until something else catches your eye.

3 years later.

Jason is back. He's back home. I don't know why, but he's back. I was so excited to see him again—everyone else has become so busy and won't even talk to me. Nobody else has time for me, but Jason did. But he looked different. He's way older than me, now. He won't even look at me. I tried to hug him but he just put a mask on and walked away. Why is everyone doing this to me? What did I do? It's not fair.

Your writing grows into chicken scratch near the end—as if conveying your frustration. You skim through a few more entries. More teen angst. More about how you can't even hold a conversation with your siblings anymore.

Some were sweet, like how you met some people, unnamed, and treasured their friendship so deeply, but they were few and far between.

I met a girl today. She's my sister now. Her name is Cassandra, and she has very pretty eyes. I tried to talk to her, but dad got pretty mad at me because apparently she doesn't like to talk much. How was I supposed to know that? She didn't even look at me as dad pulled her away. Who even is she? Why does my dad like her better than me? Why does he like them all better than me? It's not fair.

You're bitter. You're upset, and so, so bitter. It's so abundantly clear that as time went on, you became progressively more and more spiteful. It was rather sad to watch.

This stupid little kid tried to kill me. Claimed I was unworthy. I couldn't give less of a shit what he thinks—but my family couldn't give less of a shit about me. They said he's troubled, that he needs patience.

The new few words were less than family friendly. Unkind? Definitely. Deserved? Possibly.

I can't believe this. I'm so sick of this. I want to get out. I can't take this anymore. Jason kills people now, but Bruce still loves him. Even Steph and Babs get more love from Bruce than me. They're not even in the family, but they're better. Because they're superheroes, they're better. Maybe I'll be a hero myself. Maybe then, they'll see me.

You flip the page. That's the last entry. The last page of the book—but behind it, there's a page made of sticky notes on the back cover. Your eyes widen in shock at what you see.

It's all...

"Spidey," you read out the name atop this pasted page in a low whisper.

Your fingertips trace over the detailed drawings. Your costume. Though not made of nanotech—the suit was intricately designed with spider patterns falling all around your arms and legs, with a large spider torso. It looked somewhat like Silk's suit.

Web shooters, with thorough calculations on how much you'd have to bulk up to swing without taking your arm off (which, by what you're reading, was humanly impossible for a regular you), and detailed explanations on what the web fluid was made out of.

More environmentally sustainable than your ones. You'd have to take these notes back home.

It wasn't like your family would go looking—you can't help but think, chewing on your cheek. This was incredible. You must've been a real genius to figure all this out.

Back home, you had Reed and Tony help you with all your spider stuff. Sure, you were the one who came up with all the base ideas and constructed it all yourself—but they helped out a lot with all the technicalities. But to come up with something like, from what you can tell, all on your own...

It was nothing short of incredible. And your family had no idea.

You snap the book shut, eyes narrowing down at the ground. Your Aunt May never would've treated you like this—and if you were correct, this other you must be with your aunt right now.

Good for them, you think. Maybe they'd be happier there, anyway.

A sudden knock at your door brings you out of your stupor. You slip the book away quickly as Alfred opens the door, bowing his head slightly. "Master [name], dinner is ready. If you're feeling better, please come down."

The prospect of a family dinner leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, especially after all you've read from this diary. No matter. You don't know how this you behaved before, but you have bigger issues to deal with than becoming a copy of this sad child.

But despite everything... Alfred really did seem to care for them—for you. You nod, smoothing out your cami. "Thanks. Let's go."

You and he both head down the stairs, and you finally come face to face with the family you've heard so much about.

They're all grinning from ear-to-ear, laughing about something that "happened on patrol" as you take a seat at the end of the table—beside a blonde girl who you think was called Stephanie—chewing on the food.

It was good. Really good. Almost as good as Aunt May's meatloaf. The thought makes you feel a little homesick, but you persevere. The hard glare given to you across the table by this small kid (definitely Damian) isn't helping, though.

Dick catches the look and follows his little brothers gaze to you. He doesn't say anything about it—only ruffles the boy's hair, chuckling, and asks why he seems so glum. The child hisses and starts trying to stab the man with a steak knife, to no avail—of course.

That was the last time you were even glanced at for the rest of the dinner. You almost can't believe it. How could somebody really fade into the background like that? How could such a family let it happen?

How could they be so ignorant? You lose your appetite soon enough, and stand up. The chatter dies down for a second. Stephanie—being the closest toward you, gives you an uncomfortable smile, "Are you not going to finish? You were out for a while... you need energy to get back up and do..."

Whatever it is you do at home, you guess that's probably what she was thinking. Who said you hadn't gotten a telepathic mutation?

She doesn't finish her sentence. You'd just met these people and already you were sick of this. Seriously, you don't think you could get any more uncomfortable if somebody strapped you to a chair and tossed you down a dark well.

You miss the most fantastic of fours you know. They'd never do this to you. Sue was far too sweet.

You shake your head, plate held tight in your hand. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. There's much more important things out there in Gotham, isn't there? Besides—I have more than enough time to heal. Not like I'm doing any hero stuff, huh?"

Your laugh lacks any kind of humour, and you walk out in your typical Spidey fashion. The chatter doesn't spike up for a good ten minutes until after you leave.

You meet Alfred in the kitchen, and he's doing countless dishes alone. There's a stack of plates almost as tall as he is. You roll up your sleeves.

He gives you a confused look. "Master [name]? I have told you before, you—"

"I don't care what you told me." You say, suddenly—but you backtrack when you realise how flat your tone was. Cheeks flushed, you correct yourself, "Ah—sorry. I meant... I don't care what you told me, because it doesn't matter if you don't want help... I'll offer it anyway, you know? I can't help it. It's how I am."

It's why I'm Spidey. Not because I have powers. Not because I'm good at swinging around. Not even because the costume is awesome.

It's because you can't help but help others. You have the power to do so—now it's your responsibility.

You take a sponge, and douse it in dishwashing liquid. You scrub down a porcelain plate beside Alfred in silence.

The pensive look on his face was now replaced by a small, fond smile.

we getting into the typical diary entry stuff okokokkkk but. love interests next chapter. smirks let me cook!!!@

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if you asked to be on the taglist but aren't there, your account couldn't be tagged for whatever reason. im not too sure how tumblr works, but if you manage to fix it, ask me again!!!

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rollinouttahere-writes · 12 days ago

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Breaking Point Chapter 4

Whitebeard Pirates x Teen GN Reader

7.2k words

First / Prev

Summary: Akainu realizes he has been duped, Whitebeard has a conversation with the mystery caller, and you are left facing your most dire foe yet. Boredom.

Warnings: choking, suicidal ideation, brief mentions of anxiety, depression, and self harm, descriptions of past child abuse, invasion of privacy, brief pregnancy mention

I made some major changes to chapter one since the last update, so please make sure to go reread it if you haven't already. Enjoy the extra long chapter lol

tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap

A trench was going to be imprinted upon the deck at this rate. Akainu couldn't stand still. Not when his mind was racing in every direction all at once.

Those pirates are fucking late.

Akainu stops sharply and shouts up to the crow's nest, “Can you still not see them?”

“No, sir! There's no one around for miles!”

His blood may very well be literally boiling. A vein in his forehead throbs uncomfortably, and he can hear a faint sizzling coming from somewhere on his person.

A hesitant, meek voice calls out to him, “The wind is pretty weak today, sir. Maybe they're just running behind because of that?”

“That didn't stop us from getting here on time!” Akainu snaps at the marine. He stomps closer to the man, easily matching his hasty steps back until he is towering over him. “They are damn near five hours late, and you want to blame it on the fucking wind?! What's next? Did they stop at an island because they were hungry, too? What other excuses are you going to make for those things?!”

“I-I-I wasn't trying to excuse them, sir, I promise!” The marine is bent backwards over the railing in a desperate bid to put some distance between them. “It's just- I have a kid at home, too! I know that I would be worried sick if I was in your shoes, so I was trying to say something encouraging!”

Akainu grabs the man's neckerchief and yanks him closer, not caring to notice that he was choking him in the process, “I don't need encouragement, I need those damned pirates to keep their end of their deal and get here already!”

“I'm sorry, sir!” The marine was clawing at the fabric around his neck and wheezing.

Such a pathetic display. Whatever. He wasn't worth the effort of dispatching. Akainu shoves him away, nearly sending him over the railing and into the sea.

The seething Admiral turns to face the bridge, “Return to port, they aren't coming.”

Surprise flashes across the helmsman's face. “Are you sure, Admiral?”

“Positive.” Akainu strides to where his private office is, “The longer we waste time here, the more time they have to scheme. We are returning at once.”

He doesn't wait for a response. His crew knows better than to disappoint him. He can hear a flurry of boots hitting wood as everyone rushes to unfurl the sails and raise anchor.

It's only because he's on a ship that he can't afford to sink that he's able to keep his magma in check. He can feel the flow of it under his skin, just begging to be unleashed. But, alas, he would be stranding himself in the ocean if he did.

He's too fired up to even consider sitting down right now. He rips open the drawer that his transponder snail is in and tunes it to the desired frequency before sending out the call. It rings twice, then the gruff voice of his superior answers.

“Let me guess. They never arrived.” Despite the conversation having only just started, Sengoku already sounded exasperated.

Akainu inhaled deeply in a vague attempt to calm himself. “They didn't. They violated the terms of our agreement.”

“Pirates didn't keep their word? How surprising. Should I tell the papers about this?”

Sarcasm was the last thing that Akainu wanted to put up with right now. His hand tightens around the receiver and he spits out, “This isn't a joking matter. My (Y/N) is still with them, and I haven't been given any proof of life since the initial communication.”

“I'm aware.” The sound of papers being shuffled followed by pen on paper trickles in from his side.

Teeth grind against each other painfully to the point that he should be concerned about cracking a molar, but he can't be bothered to focus on such a thing. “Is that all you have to say? That Emperor is holding a Commodore hostage, and all you can say is that you're aware?”

“An ex-Commodore.” Sengoku says plainly, as if it was nothing of note. Like he just fired a janitor. “I've already taken the liberty of terminating their position and reallocating their unit.”

“You can't be serious. You better not be serious.” The nails on Akainu’s free hand dig into the varnished wood of his desk and smoke begins to rise.

“I am. You were made privy to my stance on this matter beforehand. (Y/N) abandoned post and got themselves captured. That isn't the kind of behavior I want to see in an Ensign, much less a Commodore.” The sound of a pen being dropped can be heard. “And just in case you need to be reminded, my decision still stands on not permitting any action against Whitebeard. A civilian isn't worth that effort or trouble.”

The wood of his desk smolders, then catches to fire. “Do you honestly expect me to do nothing about this? Am I just supposed to leave (Y/N) in the hands of pirates and not do a single fucking thing to retrieve them? Is that genuinely what you are expecting of me?”

A deep sigh can be heard through the receiver. After a bout of silence, Sengoku speaks again, “I understand that this is your child, and that you have a duty to them as a parent. But, you also have a duty to the Marines. You have a duty to not upset the delicate balance between us and the Emperors. There is only room for one of those duties to be your top priority.

“I'm not going to reprimand you for being distressed, but I hope that you will make the correct decisions going forward. You're an excellent Admiral, and I want to help you where I can, but I can't continue covering your ass when you let your desires and impulses control you. You need to be wholly dedicated to the greater good, and let's be honest here, (Y/N) is no longer a part of that category.”

Sengoku allows him time to stew in what was said. To take it all in and try to force himself to come to terms with it. But he can't. This isn't right. You have always been a star soldier. You've given your life to the cause, and now you're getting chewed up and spit out because you were overpowered by a fucking Emperor.

“If it's any consolation,” Sengoku pauses as he carefully chooses his next words, “I anticipate that (Y/N) will be released eventually. Of all the pirate crews that could have abducted them, the Whitebeard pirates are about as tame as one can hope for. They don't have a history of executing hostages. Once they realize they've gotten as much out of this situation as they can, I'm sure (Y/N) will be released without incident.”

Loath as he was to admit it, Sengoku had a point. If a crew like Beast pirates had gotten ahold of you, it would practically be guaranteed that you would die in their custody. The Whitebeard's, as powerful as they were, didn't pose the same risk level. The worst that had ever happened involving them and Marines outside of direct warfare was the occasional conversion, but he knew that you would never fall for such a ruse. You were far too independent and intelligent to be tricked like that.

But even if you were released, that still begged the question, “Will you reinstate (Y/N)’s position once they've been returned?”

“What?” Sengoku sounds completely flabbergasted, “No. Where did you get the idea that I would? I already explained why (Y/N) is no longer fit for the Marines. Were you not listening to a word I said the other day?”

“I heard you, but that doesn't mean that I agreed with it. You aren't being fair. Anyone of their skill level would have lost against those pirates. I know my soldier, and I know that they have what it takes to do good for the Marines. You can't cut their career short before they've even reached their maximum potential.” Akainu exhales sharply and drags his hand down his face, “What would they even do if they weren't a marine? They would have nothing.”

The sound of Sengoku drumming his fingers makes it through the transmission. “(Y/N) is a sharp individual, I know that they would succeed in anything they applied themselves to. I did them and you a favor and labeled them as an honorable discharge. They should have no trouble finding employment elsewhere.”

That answer wasn't good enough. Akainu didn't want you to wander around until you found something else to do to get by. He wanted you to stay in the Marines and do what he knew you were meant to do. This is all so frustrating, he feels like he's talking in circles.

Without thinking, he barks into the receiver, “What's the damn point if they can't even be a marine?”

The drumming coming through the line stops instantly. “Pardon?” He can hear Sengoku's chair creak, followed by a hand slamming down on the desk, “The damn point is that you'll have your kid back alive and well! The point is that you won't be left to wonder what became of them as your mind fills in the blanks with nothing but worst case scenarios! You could stand to be a little more grateful for the fact that you have a very good chance of being able to see your kid again!”

Indistinct words are grumbled under the Fleet Admiral’s breath. He inhales deeply, then lets it out. He speaks clearly and concisely, “I'm done with this conversation. Do not bring this up to me again.” The line went dead.

This didn't feel real. It was like a nightmare. He's worked so hard to get you to where you were, and now Sengoku has callously ripped it all away based purely off assumption. Was his life's work not good enough to be worth fighting for? Was he insinuating that Akainu had raised a useless marine?

Did he have any idea how bad this would make Akainu look?

There's a tug on his hand. His transponder snail is trying to escape the flames encapsulating the desk but is being held back by the receiver still in his grasp.

… It would be inconvenient to have to make a trip just to acquire a new one.

Akainu picks up the snail and drops it onto a nearby shelf. He stares at the burning desk with apathy. Was there anything important in it? Probably not. Some paperwork at most.

Glass cracks and then shatters loudly. His eyes dart over to the source of the noise. A framed photo of you that was taken after your recent promotion to Commodore. Oh, shit! He lurches forward to try and salvage it, but he's too late. The picture singes and curls in his hands as flames consume it.

Your emotionless face distorts, then vanishes as it's reduced to a pile of ash.

—

Everyone had left the room upon Whitebeard's request to do so. Now it was just him, the transponder snail, and whoever was on the other side of this transmission.

Whitebeard situates himself comfortably and speaks in the commanding voice expected of someone of his status, “We're alone now. You can speak.”

There's a beat of silence, then a stern but feminine voice comes through, “Captain Whitebeard. I appreciate you agreeing to speak with me regarding this urgent matter.”

“It isn’t often that someone from Totto Land wants to speak to me. May I know whom I'm speaking to?” He was running all of the voices of Big Mom's children that he knew through his head, but none of them were a match. It could be one of her daughters that he hadn't met before, or maybe his memory simply wasn't as sharp as it used to be.

“You may have heard of me under the alias of Ms. Edmonds. I used to work with various pirates by giving them insider information on the Marines, but I've worked exclusively with Charlotte Linlin for some time now.”

Whitebeard had heard the name floating around several years back. A former disgraced marine turned informant, either out of spite or genuine necessity based on who you asked. The question still stood on why she was so insistent on getting in contact with him, and what exactly his most recent addition to the ship had to do with it.

“Is (Y/N) still aboard your ship?” Her voice had a noticeable tinge of desperation to it.

His arms cross over his chest and he leans back in his chair. “They are. They’re on the deck with my sons as we speak.”

A loud sigh of relief comes from Ms. Edmonds. Seemingly encouraged by his response, she begins speaking at a fast pace, “Whitebeard, I must implore you to not return (Y/N) to Marine custody. I am prepared to pay whatever ransom you deem necessary. Treasure, medicine, I could even connect you with new potential crew members. Just name it, and I will make it happen.”

“I have already decided that (Y/N) won’t be going back to the Marines.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, then a quiet, “Huh?”

“(Y/N) made it clear that they didn’t want to go back. I’m not in the business of forcing people to do things against their will, much less a child.” Whitebeard leaves the explanation vague. Ms. Edmonds hasn’t shown her hand yet, so he has no reason to either. She’s given him no reason to divulge precisely why he’s made the decision that he has. “What I want right now is to know why you are so invested in that child. I take it Big Mom is interested in them?”

A few theories are swirling in his mind, but one was especially prominent. It wouldn't surprise him in the least if Big Mom was interested in getting a turn using you as a bargaining chip. Linlin loved having leverage over others, and she no doubt knew that she could get a lot out of having you in her custody.

If that is the case, she is going to be sorely disappointed. He has zero intention of putting you in harm's way or triggering another attempt. You aren't going anywhere.

There is a lengthy pause as Ms. Edmonds mulls over her next words, and Whitebeard doesn't rush her.

She lets out a deep breath, then finally breaks the silence, “I'm their mother. I'm sure you've heard the… unsavory rumors about me. I was dishonorably discharged when the affair I was having with my superior came to light after I discovered I was pregnant during a medical exam.”

A bitter chuckle comes through the connection, “They raked me over the coals. Called me every name in the book and told me I had no right to my own child. They took (Y/N) from me the second they were born. I've never so much as held them.”

None of this had been what Whitebeard had been anticipating. Her story was extreme, so much so that he was dubious of how honest she was being. Especially since she had yet to give a real name. “Do you have any proof for this story?”

“I do.” Her words are firm and confident, “I managed to snag my file before I was thrown out on my ass. It includes details about everything I described to you. It will be under the name of Portgas D. Louise, and I can send it over to you right now if you will let me.”

Whitebeard wasn’t sure which struck him harder. Her having the same surname as his son, Ace, or the fact that she just admitted to having the Will of D. And if this tale turns out true, that would imply that you do as well. If he had to guess, you didn’t even know this about yourself.

This situation is becoming increasingly complicated by the second. It’s an insane story, but something in him is telling him that it’s true. He concedes, “Yes, I would appreciate it if you could send it to me at your earliest convenience.”

The woman, who he now knows to be Louise, can be heard shouting orders to mail the file to Whitebeard right away. The voice of the other person is too far away to be made out, but he does pick up on the sound of a door opening and closing.

“Thank you so much for being willing to entertain this. If it’s not too much to ask, I have another favor to request from you.” Louise’s voice is tentative as she asks.

“Go ahead.” Whitebeard can about guess what she’s after.

“I need to see my child. It may have been a bit presumptuous, but I have already begun preparations of a ship to make the voyage to get to yours. Can I trust that I will have your continued cooperation and that I’ll be allowed entry onto your ship?”

Whitebeard lets the question hang in the air as he thinks it over. It will likely be a few days before the evidence gets to him, but if Louise is coming all the way from Totto Land, there will be a wide margin of time for him to lose them if the proof proves itself to be illegitimate. He nods to himself and answers, “Yes, you will have our continued cooperation so long as the evidence confirms your story.”

She lets out a loud sigh of relief, as if she’d been holding her breath. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Think nothing of it.” At this point, he had as much of an interest in seeing this woman as she did in seeing her child.

Just as he was planning to end the communication, Louise speaks up again, “... How is (Y/N)? Are they well?” Ah. He had admittedly been hoping to avoid this question. He pauses to try and gather his thoughts, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Her voice takes on a more urgent tone, “What’s wrong? Are they hurt?”

“Not physically… but I’m not sure that I can say that they are well, either.”

Louise urges him again, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s upsetting.”

That gives her pause, but she presses on, “My life has been upsetting. Tell me what’s going on with (Y/N). I’m their mother, I have the right to know.”

“Very well,” Whitebeard relents. He takes a moment to attempt to find the most delicate way to say what he needed to, but there simply isn’t a nice way of putting it. He’s just going to have to come right out and say it. “When we were still planning on trading (Y/N) for safe passage to and from an island, they became despondent. After they were told that they would be back with their father soon, they went into a panic. They managed to wrestle a knife away from someone… and then they attempted to end their life.”

Silence. He can’t even make out the sound of her breathing anymore. After a few seconds, he hears some shuffling and the flick of a lighter, followed by a long inhale. She exhales shakily, and her voice tremors just as much, “How hurt are they?”

“Ace caught the blade before they could do any damage. They are unharmed, and we have them under a constant watch to ensure it stays that way. (Y/N) is in good hands, I can promise you that much.”

“Ace…” Louise mumbles something under her breath that he can’t quite make out. She clears her voice. “Okay. Thank you for informing me. I need to leave to assist with preparations for our ship. I’ll be in contact with you later.”

He reaches forward to terminate the call, but she interrupts him, “Oh, one more thing. I don’t want you to tell (Y/N) that I’m coming. I don’t know what- if anything- they’ve been told about me. I would prefer to be there to plead my case in person rather than letting them stew in whatever Akainu has told them about me.”

The call comes to an end before he even has a chance to respond. She apparently had a good deal of faith that he would honor that request. Which she wasn’t wrong about. He would. You already had too much on your mind as it stands, he didn’t need to be adding more to your plate. The transponder snail’s eyes shut, and it promptly retreats back into its shell for a much needed nap after the lengthy back and forth.

Whitebeard leans back in his seat to take in everything that he just heard. While he still wanted to see the proof for himself, he already felt certain that Louise was telling the truth about who she was in relation to you. Frankly, the bigger question to him was who she was to Ace.

And what Big Mom was hoping to get out of this.

—

There have been many complicated hurdles in your life. Brutal training sessions, unforgiving missions, merciless foes, but now you’re facing a whole new beast.

Boredom.

Due to how heavily structured your life was as a marine, you were never left wondering what you should do. Everything was already pre-established ahead of time, and there wasn’t a single second that was unaccounted for. So what were you supposed to do when that schedule was ripped away from you?

During those few weeks on the run, you had been away from your usual routine, but you were kept plenty busy with surviving and making sure your path would be an untraceable one. But now? Now you have nothing to do, and it’s driving you crazy!

It’s been two days since your capture by the Whitebeard pirates, and it has been a wild ride.

Marco returned last night with the medication they used you as leverage to get. True to Elise’s word, he did not proceed to immediately drag you back to the Marines. Instead, what followed was a private interrogation between you and him where he asked you all sorts of invasive questions.

At first they were pretty tame. Have you eaten? How much? What has your sleep schedule been like recently? Then it started to get more uncomfortable. Do you have a history with depression? Do you often find yourself feeling anxious?

And then he asked the question that you knew was coming. Are you having any thoughts of self harm or suicide?

All of your answers were short. This wasn’t an exchange that you wanted to entertain. You gave vague answers where you could, and outright lied when you couldn’t. None of this was any of his damn business. And what the hell kinds of questions were these? Do you have a history of depression? As if you could have done everything you did as a marine if you were depressed and anxious. How absurd.

And self harm? Please. Akainu harmed you plenty. Why would you do more than that unless it was to end it all? Of course, you still had the desire to do just that, but there was no opportunity to. These people were watching you constantly.

There was a rotation of nurses that stayed up to watch you as you slept all night. If you wanted to go to the bathroom, someone had to be with you. A humiliating experience, but at least the nurses had the decency to turn their back. You declined to bathe last night because of that whole experience. You did not want to be completely naked around these people. Fuck that noise.

Ever since your release from the confines of the medical gurney, you’ve been hovering around the nurses. You didn’t exactly trust them, but they felt safer to be around than any of the pirates. In an attempt to stave off your boredom, you’ve taken to helping the nursing staff out. Cleaning medical equipment, organizing supplies, washing laundry for the infirmary. It kept you busy last night and into the morning, but they eventually ran out of things for you to do and even went so far as to shoo you out of the infirmary with orders to “relax already”, whatever that meant.

Ah, yes. You’re just going to kick back and chill out around a bunch of savage pirates that hunt your kind for sport. Who wouldn’t do that? What a silly goose you are for your apprehensions!

Much like yesterday, all of the pirates were being weird as all hell. The act they had going on yesterday was still in full swing. They were all pretending to be friendly with you and drag you into their games and hobbies to lower your guard. Thatch tried luring you into the kitchen under the guise of showing you how to make bread. You declined. His division had probably been lying in wait to stab you to death with kitchen knives. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. You’d much rather die by your hand than theirs, thank you very much.

The rest of the crew followed suit. Izou tried waving you over when he was making tea. A group of them tried to get you to join them in fishing over the side of the ship. Ace attempted to get you to play a game of cards with him. Admittedly, you had almost agreed to that one just to distract yourself, but you held strong.

Presently, you were sitting against the railing, staring blankly up at the sky while absent-mindedly fiddling with the seastone cuff on your wrist. Marco hadn’t taken it off. Your lackluster response to his questions were probably to thank for that. At least the IV was removed. You’d been anticipating a rush of energy and increased alertness now that there wasn’t a steady stream of presumed sedatives flowing into you, but that had yet to come. You felt just as aloof as you were. You suppose that the seastone exposure was preventing you from fully recovering.

This location choice of yours seemingly had the pirates on edge. You were still being watched closely, that much was obvious. As soon as you approached the taffrail, Namur abruptly declared that he was going for a swim. So killing yourself by diving over the edge was a no-go.

“You look bored.”

There went your peace and solitude. You look over to your left to find a Division Commander looming over you with a smile on his face. It goes to show how desensitized you’ve become that all you felt in response to a clear threat was annoyance.

Swift-Saber Haruta. You’ve seen his face on wanted posters, and you recall him being in the crowd yesterday, but this is your first time interacting with him directly. You aren’t interested in making a good first impression. You scowl at him, “What the hell do you want?”

It does nothing to dissuade him. He laughs and hops up onto the railing, “You sound like Ace when he first got here.”

“Don’t compare me to some damned pirate.” You scoff at the observation. How insulting.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your marine pride,” his mocking tone indicated that he was anything but.

That word bothers you, too. You huff and bring your knees to your chest while mumbling, “Don’t call me that…”

“What? Are you not a marine?”

“Not anymore.” Those days were long behind you. Arguably, you never really were a marine. Not in spirit. Not in the way that someone like Garp was. You never had the passion, the drive. You put in the effort, but it was just an obligation to you. A job that you were forced to do under duress of what would happen to you if you dared to underperform.

“Oh?” Haruta inches closer to you on the rail, “You want to elaborate on that?”

“Not at all, thanks.” You lean against the bars of the railing again and close your eyes, hoping that he’ll take the hint and leave.

That doesn’t happen. Haruta lightly nudges you with his leg, “Okay, well if you don’t want to do that, how about sparring?”

“What?” Did you mishear him? Your eyes open, then narrow at him.

“Vista’s usually the one I spar with, but he’s busy, so I was wondering if you wanted to take his place?” He looks to you, and when all you do is stare at him in confusion, he continues, “You don’t have to, I just thought you might want something to do. It’s your call.”

Sparring with a pirate would be a horrible idea. Suicidal, really. Lucky for him, that’s exactly what you are. You feign confliction, then sigh, “Sure, fine. Why not?”

“Great!” Haruta drops down from the railing and holds a hand out to you. You ignore it and stand up on your own. If he’s insulted by the display, he masks it well. He nods his head to the side, “The room we use for sparring is just over there, follow me.”

You trail behind him slowly in an effort to look casual and not like you’re planning to grab the first weapon you can get ahold of and use it on yourself. He doesn’t appear to be monitoring you as closely as the others. If you make it quick, you should be able to succeed.

As soon as you’re inside the sparring room, your mood sours. There are weapons here, but they’re all wood. Fuck. Taking yourself out via bluntforce trauma isn’t technically an impossible feat, but it would be difficult to do quick enough to be effective. You’ll either be stopped before you’re done, or you’ll just knock yourself out and have nothing more than a splitting headache to show for it.

Should you leave? You don’t really want to be here anymore.

“Any preference?” Haruta is standing by a wall lined with wooden swords.

… Well, this does beat being bored. You sigh and join him by the wall, “My specialty is hand to hand combat, but I’m well versed in many weapons.” You grab the nearest sword, one designed to resemble a cutlass. Standard issue for marines. It’s one of the first weapons you learned to use.

“Works for me.” Haruta picks up a wooden sword of his own and walks to the center of the room, “I’ll go easy on you since you’ve still got that cuff on you.”

You scoff, “Don’t you dare. I’m just as capable with this thing on as I am otherwise.” That was a boldfaced lie. You’ve been lethargic ever since it was slapped onto your wrist. But your pride couldn’t handle being seen as weak regardless of whether or not you had what could be considered a valid excuse.

The attempt to talk tough fell flat. Haruta chuckles at your response. “How feisty, you really are like Ace. Are you sure you two aren’t related?”

“Keep talking like that. See where it gets you.” You meet him in the center of the room and raise your sword into a front guard.

Haruta raises his sword, but when he fails to make the first move, you lunge at him and thrust the sword toward his chest. He easily parries and sheds the attack, then advances toward you with a strike of his own. A clean and beautifully executed riposte that has you retreating.

His smile remains, “You’re only making my case for me by talking like that, you know?”

“Shut up.” Such a witty retort. You’re really bringing your A game here. You guard yourself against an onslaught of attacks from your opponent. Much to your chagrin, you can tell that he’s holding back. This slow speed is nowhere near what you’ve heard he’s capable of, yet you find yourself struggling to hold your own regardless.

He shrugs nonchalantly, “What? I like to talk when I’m sparring. Give me something else to focus on if you don’t like the subject.”

You feint an attack to the left, then strike from the right, making him step back and successfully regaining some ground. Sparring has never been a social affair for you, but you’d rather entertain his request than continue being subjected to him spouting off his inane observations and speculations over your heritage.

Conversational skills have never been your forte. What do people usually talk about? The weather? Themselves? You pick the latter and run with it, “How did you end up among pirates? According to your file, you used to be a prince. That’s quite the dramatic career shift.”

Haruta brings his free hand to his face and closes his eyes, “Aww, you’ve been keeping tabs on little old me?” Despite his eyes being shut, he was still expertly deflecting your attacks.

“Don’t flatter yourself. The Marines keep tabs on all pirates, especially when they’re associated with an Emperor.” You charge forward to try and overwhelm him, but he disengages you with a circle parry and sends you stumbling back. Damn it all, he’s making a fool out of you! You grit your teeth and correct your stance, “Are you going to answer my question, or are you going to deflect that, too?”

“Temper, temper!” He laughs and backs off slightly, which only enrages you further. He isn’t taking you seriously at all. “I will answer it, so hold your horses. And straighten your feet while you’re at it, you’re going to trip over them again.”

This fucker. You straighten your feet, furious that he was right about your footwork being off. Your strikes become more aggressive, but your foe remains unphased. “Did you leave to become a criminal out of boredom? Were you too good for your cushy lifestyle?”

“Eh, something like that,” Haruta stands his ground, blocking each attack with a practiced ease, “but it had more to do with my father.”

That answer wasn’t what you had been expecting. “What? Did he make you leave?” That didn’t line up with the file. The king had put in a request to the Marines the day Haruta vanished, so it would seem that he did want the prince around. He wouldn’t have offered up such a handsome reward for his capture otherwise.

Haruta shrugs, “In a sense, I suppose.” He begins countering your attacks again. “He kept saying that I wasn’t doing enough. No matter what I did, he had a problem with it. My sword fighting skills weren’t good enough, my academics weren’t good enough, my etiquette around the other nobles wasn’t good enough, nothing was. So, since I was such a disgrace in his eyes, I did him a favor and left.”

A pang of familiarity thrums through you. Memories of Akainu criticizing, but never complimenting reared their ugly head. You didn’t appreciate the reminder.

He frowns and rolls his eyes exasperatedly, “And you would think that he’d appreciate that, but no! He got mad about that, too. There’s just no pleasing some people, am I right?”

That was painfully true. It made you feel strange to hear such a sentiment from a pirate. Since when were pirates relatable? You shake your head and throw yourself back into the match. You don’t want to dwell on that, “So did Whitebeard immediately pick you up like some sort of posh stray?”

“Ha, no! I was on my own for a while after that. Around a year, I think? I got by as a bounty hunter, and that worked pretty well for me.” He retreats in small steps as he takes your flurry of attacks. “But then I got a little too big for my breeches. I got greedy and thought for sure that I could take on one of these guys. Thatch seemed like easy pickings. I thought, oh, he’s just a chef, how tough can he be?”

Your swords clash again, and he holds strong as you put your full weight into trying to make him budge. He continues speaking as if this wasn’t a strain on him in the slightest, “As it turns out: very tough. He made a fool out of me and had me disarmed and on my ass in a matter of seconds.”

Haruta pivots sharply, and the sudden absence of resistance sends you tumbling forward. Your arms flail as your torso tips forward in a desperate effort to regain balance. It works, and you right yourself and whip around, visibly frazzled. Your combatant chuckles, “I bet I looked a lot like you do right now.”

Bastard. Why must he insist on comparing you to pirates? You scramble to correct your stance. He lets you, which has you feeling more angry than grateful. You were nothing more than a joke to him. You lunge forward and cut down at him, but he easily avoids it with a fade.

“Your story doesn’t make any sense,” you all but snarl at him. “I asked you how you ended up with the Whitebeard’s, and you tell me a tale of trying to kill one of them. You wouldn’t be here if that was true.”

“Come now, do you really think me a liar? You wound me.” Oh, how you wish you could! Calling his previous move a fade had been a mistake on your end, he quickly revealed it to be an empty one when he leapt forward again. You just barely manage to parry it in time. “I’m telling the truth! After my humiliating defeat, pops offered to let me become his son.

“I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Like you said, it didn’t make sense. He just saw me lose a fight spectacularly after trying to take the head of one of his sons, yet he wanted to keep me around? I thought for sure that it was some cruel joke or a plot to finish me off.” Haruta kept yapping carelessly, yet you couldn’t find a single opening. If you could just rip this fucking cuff off, you would be able to make him take you seriously, you’re sure of it!

“I acquiesced, but more so out of a morbid sense of curiosity than anything. For weeks I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Weeks turned to months, and now I’ve been here for years.”

This story was so baffling that you stopped just to stare at him, “And they just… let you? They were okay with what you did?”

Haruta lightly taps your sword to get you back in the game. Akainu would have taken such an opportunity to show you what exactly happens to someone when they lose focus like that. You’ve got scars for making that mistake around him. Why didn’t this pirate add to your collection of marks?

While you’re floundering in internal confusion, Haruta carries on, entirely unbothered, “I mean, I guess so? One attempt on Thatch was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Ace tried to kill pops like a hundred times, and he’s still here.”

“He fucking what?”

Rather than calling your attention back to the fight, your opponent exploits your shock. Before you can even blink, he hooks his sword around yours and breaks it from your grasp. Your weapon is sent clattering across the floor, and you fall down with it. The thin mat on the floor does little to cushion your fall, but it’s not too bad. Nothing you can’t walk off. Your pride is infinitely more bruised by this than you are.

There’s a gentle tap of cool wood on your sweat dampened neck, “Looks like I won this round.” You glance up and find Haruta grinning down at you. “You aren’t bad, but you could use some more practice. I’m guessing you didn’t keep up with sword fighting much since you prefer hand to hand, right?”

“Something like that…” It was exactly like that. Upon reflection, you’d only ever been shown the basics of other weaponry. Hand to hand combat was the only thing that you ever trained in consistently since that was also what Akainu favored. Your skill level in any weapon that wasn’t yourself simply couldn’t hold a candle to a real master.

A hand is held out to you. Haruta had a relaxed smile on his face as he waited to see what you would do. It was a stark contrast to the rage that would be plastered over Akainu’s face when you collapsed. Akainu would yell at you for the pathetic display. Akainu would kick you across the room if you didn’t get up fast enough, not caring if a rib or two was cracked in the process.

But Haruta wanted to help you to your feet.

You take his hand, and it proves itself to not be a trick. He pulls you into a standing position without incident. That doesn’t prevent you from taking a step back after he does. You aren’t about to be too lax around him.

“That was fun!” Haruta is practically beaming. It’s unclear why. You know damn well that you didn’t pose any real challenge to him. What was a full body workout for you was little more than a warmup for him. “Same time tomorrow?”

He… wants to do this again? He wants to spar with you more? Well, referring to this session as sparring was generous. He no doubt had to have felt as if he had taken on the role of a teacher, and with a very unimpressive student at that.. There was absolutely nothing for him to gain from engaging with you in this way. Yet he wanted to.

“... Sure.” You avert your eyes and pick at your nails. “If I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Excellent! I look forward to it!” Haruta slings an arm over your shoulder and brings you into his side as he makes way for the exit. You’re forced to walk awkwardly alongside him.

What the hell was he doing? You squirm against him, “Knock that off. I can’t walk with you holding onto me like this.”

Rather than relinquishing you, his arm tightens. One of his hands pinches your cheek as he speaks in a taunting tone, “You can’t? Ah, well, I suppose that isn’t too surprising. You could barely walk straight when we were sparring.”

“You asshole-” You flail in his grasp and manage to shove him away. You choose to tell yourself that it was because you overpowered him, and not because he let you.

Haruta laughs at your agitation, no remorse in sight. Piece of shit. How dare he? You storm away from him in a huff, eager to get the hell out of this room and away from him. When you look up at the door, you find it cracked open with several heads peeking through.

Ace, Marco, and Elise are all blatantly spying on you. How long have they been there? How much of that did they see? Your face heats up and you snap at them, “What are you three looking at?! Go away!”

Nonsense. This day was utterly ridiculous!

Taglist: @twotrucksinatree @tigerstarstorm @mu5hro0m @brooks-real @one-piecelover @ratchetprime211 @ithoughtthinks @simpfor2dpeoole @vinillies @selfindulgenceisthekey @deleted-1-800 @weirdothatreads @eravariety @qhevy

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namelessgakusei · 1 month ago

Text

EP. 2.2 And deliver us from evil

Devil May Cry x Reader Insert

Warnings: It's DMC. Based on the New Netflix Series. Spoiler warnings for the actual show. Not proofread.

EP. 2.1 Lead us not into temptation (prev.)

EP. 2.3 Amen. (cont.)

Synopsis: The fight for Dante's pendant finally starts.

You thought it was strange. How does a shapeshifter take the form of someone who had long since died? How does a shapeshifter know how that person will turn out when they age? How does that shapeshifter know about Dante's brother?

How can a shapeshifter mimic someone who doesn't exist anymore?

"Hey, Dante..." You called for the man who's currently scarfing another box of pizza down his mouth. You laid upside down on the couch, with feet up the back and head dangling at the edge. "Isn't it strange?"

"What is?"

"That demon knows about your brother, and it was able to mimic how Vergil looks like."

Silence followed after your question. Dante didn't really liked talking about his past nor about the repressed emotions he had since that day, but since it doesn't sit right with you, you thought to share this with him. He doesn't meet your eyes and focused intensely at the pizza at his hand, however.

His lack of response made you want to backtrack, grunting as you flip yourself to sit and apologize for prying too much. But Dante frowned and nodded, meeting your gaze this time. "No, you're right. How does it know about Vergil?"

"Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing??" You scrambled to your feet when you saw him rummaging through his desk for weapons. When he replied that he'll hunt the demon again, you shook your head frantically with a loud whine of protest.

"The demon's after my necklace and knows about my brother, who's to say they aren't cahoots with those who killed my family that night?" Dante's reply made you pause and look away with guilt. Of course he'll get worked up, he doesn't like the emotions that reminds him of his past and family, more so those who try to purposely stain the few memories he can remember.

"Sorry. But, I don't think that's a good idea." You murmured, making Dante raise a brow as he holsters his guns. Fidgeting, you shyly looked at him with a pout.

"Because we were set up."

Glass shards flew everywhere as a group of mercenaries jumped in, arms in position as they point towards the lone chair that's unusually under a spotlight. Seeing that their target was unmoving, they took the liberty to slowly approach him.

One by one, however, their members got tangled up with wires and silently got dragged to the ceiling.

"We're here for the amulet. Drop the gun and hand it over." A man looking like the leader, barked towards the person behind the chair. But they didn't budge, angering the group, and making the leader snarled as he twists the chair to face them.

There sits Enzo Ferino, bound to a chair with Dante's coat over his back, a mop head to give the illusion of the former's hair color, and two fake guns tied to his hands. He struggles against his binds as he tries to voice out something, with tears threatening to spill out. His eyes trailed to the ceiling, where you're perched on, watching from above, having knocked out and tied two of the mercenaries already, and then to Dante, at the other side of the room, who's about to shoot the cue ball at the object balls.

With superhuman force, the balls went flying towards the mercenaries who spun to the source of the sound. All of them took direct hits, with the unfortunate case of a certain merc who took a hit on the forehead, knocking him out cold.

At the center of the attention stood Dante, his necklace glinting from the moonlight, smirking and taunting to a challenge those who broke in the apartment.

"Fire!" The leader bellows, as Dante gets showered in lead, which he easily dodged with his ridiculous speed. You wince at the bullet holes that now littered that walls, you are so going to take out the repair cost from his account later. Dante was long gone from the area they were shooting at, having joined them in the shootout. "Who are we shooting at?!"

This guy!! You barely restrained yourself from jumping down the fray to smack his head, your face red from both of embarrassment and exasperation over his playful attitude. No matter what you plan for an operation, he always, always, throws it off! You can't even count the number of nights you spent to make up contingency plans for every single possibility that Dante might goof off. Granted, he gives you half of his pay when you demand it as compensation, it doesn't really count as one when he just makes you lose sleep again.

Dante smirked as he gets noticed, casually shooting the lightbulb above Enzo's head, bringing a complete black out. That's your cue.

Finally getting the advantage, you swung down quietly from the ceiling, as the mercenaries shot haphazardly in the dark. Dante dodged all of them and made a beeline for Enzo to get his coat, while you cocked your "gun" and began shooting at the intruders, knocking them out after getting hit in vital areas. Your partner, having donned his iconic look, kicked, flicked, and punched the remaining ones, leaving only the leader behind.

Seeing that only he remains, that mercenary frantically tried to shoot at you two, only to fail due to Dante's insane reflexes and your speed. Soon after, his revolvers ran out of bullets, making him discard them as he opted for a knife, swinging at nothing in the dark. "C'mon, you ain't shit!"

You pulled at his bandanna and did a split immediately after he spun to attack, a request from Dante in the middle of the fight, whom wiggled his brows as he motioned to the leader. With ease, you went around to tie the fabric around his wrists, kicking him towards the waiting Dante who held out his coat like a muleta.

The light returned to the room after you turned a lamp on, starting Enzo as he struggled against his binds. Dante came over and ripped the tape from his mouth and freed the man. "Now we're good."

"Was the gag really necessary?!" The broker snapped as he ripped off the mop head off of him, only to meet Dante's glare. This made Enzo falter and changed the subject, marvelling about how you two didn't killed anyone. "I had to add a little challenge." Dante shrugged and grabbed his sword, Rebellion, strapping it to his back. "They're alive for questioning." You sigh, catching your breath after that whole spectacle.

"You wouldn't happen to know why my family heirloom is suddenly New York's hottest fashion accessory?" Dante glares at the broker, pointing at the red pendant that hangs around his neck before spinning towards your direction with an amused grin. "Also, wait, was that a fucking BB gun?"

You groaned. "Do you want to clean blood all over the place?" A deadpan expression graced your features, turning to Enzo with narrowed eyes. "So, why is he getting chased like this? Why is the government involved?"

"If I knew that info, I'd tried to to sell it to Dante the second I got here, but seeing as you don't know either, then no broker here in 'merica does." Your adoptive father shrugs. You turned away, gritting your teeth and tightening your grip around the handle of your gun, pissed at your inability to foresee this situation. You purposely didn't dug anything about Dante out of respect, and you're not about to go back on your word, despite the internal conflict about wanting to regain control of the situation.

The sudden sound of Guerilla Radio snapped you out of your trance, as Dante claims he work better with music to Enzo. The ridiculousness of the situation made you crack a smile, as he went over to boot up the arcade games and plays air guitar so passionately. "Idiot." You muttered under your breath as Enzo looked at you two like you just lost your minds.

Beyond the walls are more groups of mercenaries out of your heads, with one of them being your former teammate. As the walls get swung open, Dante threw a steel beam at them, knocking the group down. Enzo ran to hide while you bobbed your head at the music, letting Dante let loose. The other side of the room got blown up and you let yourself fall backwards while still vibing, dodging the barrage of bullets that aimed themselves at Dante.

He easily dodged them and grabbed one of their men, disarming him his gun and chucking it to the farthest person, knocking them out. Next is removing the magazines from the two nearby mercenaries, spinning them around before kicking them to the ground, chucking a magazine case on one of them who still stood up. The man landed beside you, who is still moving your head to the beat with your eyes closed. Enzo, who was hiding on the other side, looked at the situation with worry. "Aren't you gonna help him?!"

"Nah, it's fine. He can handle that much. Besides, I'm waiting till this song finishes to get my turn." You replied with a light-hearted laugh as you played an air guitar at the building climax.

Dante used his sword as a makeshift shield from bullets, grinning maniacally as he hits the mercenaries with the blunt side, narrowing dodging the hands the reached out for his necklace. Whacking what he believed to be the last one of that group, he was taken aback by someone who hid himself pretty well, shooting Dante straight in the stomach with a shotgun, with the bullets piercing past his body and onto the jukebox.

The music stopped and the mercenary grinned, thinking he killed the target, only for Dante's injuries to heal themselves. "What in the fuck?"

"Ah, don't feel bad. I heal extremely fast." Dante smirked and rested Rebellion by his shoulder. "Like a superhero. Not that I call myself a superhero, but your mum does." The merc tried to run away, only to get dragged back and get knocked out by an uppercut.

Soon, Dante was surrounded again, all by the mercenaries he spared with only a knock out. But it didn't mattered, bullets or blades, nothing can hurt him. You leisurely stood up and made your way towards a cabinet, procuring a small speaker while ignoring the carnage behind you. You know there won't be bullets that'll go flying towards you, like how you'll do anything for him, Dante will do the same.

Bullets ricocheted and flew all around the room, so much so that you're considering on getting another flat after this fiasco. Some mercenaries tried to shoot you upon sight but was immediately whacked by Dante's sword. He's throwing it around like a boomerang instead of actually slicing people up.

The men finally got knocked out, just in time for when you finished preparing your own song. You know there's another group outside, one that was knocked out by Dante with a beam, one where you two are acquainted with their leader.

You mused that it's quite the unlikely reunion, as you went to grab your briefcase from behind Dante's desk, meeting eyes with your cowering father. You sigh a small laugh and shook your head, opening the case to procure handguns. You gotta settle some debts tonight, and you couldn't help but thank God for the timing that Arnie came here as a bounty hunter.

You still remember how he jeopardized your meticulous plan by going against your orders, earning him a metal replacement for his nose and some prosthetics in other areas. That was your first and hopefully last job with that man, you don't know how well you'll do with people going off on their own, you already have Dante to stress you out with that.

"Dante! Remember me?" His voice came out raspy, trembling, you thought, perhaps from the chaos that Dante left on his wake.

"Let's see, seven feet tall and looks like a carved gargoyle... Yep. Arnie, right? How are the kids?" Dante grinned and stepped back. "Great! Julie just got into Yale!" Arnie relaxed, slowly coming closer to offer a deal, but he can't help but dart his eyes around, looking for a white coat and your familiar face. Dante noticed it with a rise of his brow, but Arnie shook his head. "Y'know there's a big ass bounty in that necklace of yours. How about we bring it in together? You and me, fifty-fifty, just like old times."

Dante grinned and crossed his arms, appreciating that someone came forward without a bullet immediately on his face. "Not gonna lie, that's a better offer than SOMEONE made!" Enzo trembled under Dante's desk.

"But it's gonna be a hard 'no'."

Arnie smiled with a sigh. "Worth the shot. No hard feelings?" He reached out for a handshake which Dante reciprocated. "Sorry about the place—!" He grinned and delivered a heavy punch at Dante, only that he caught it with his other hand. The young man was about to return the favor, however, when Arnie stills in shock.

A chill runs down his spine. He knows this feeling all too well, a sensation that still haunts him up to this day. "Where's (Y/N)?"

"Over here, asshole!"

The opening sequence of Gospel of Terra plays from your mini-speaker. The series of drums fills the silence, surprising both men from the sound and your appearance from above, bashing the crown of Arnie's head with the bottom of your guns' grip, knocking him out.

There they go boom boom.

With grin, you landed on your feet, spinning towards his men with a maniacal expression, starting another shootout. "Hey!" Dante puffed his cheeks upon hearing a new song, all while shielding and parrying bullets.

Way past the limit, gotta stop being timid.

"You've had your chance for a background music." You snarled while ducking and closing the distance between you and the remaining mercenaries, a reckless move if not for your preference with close combat. "Now it's my turn." You grabbed someone neck and leaned too close for them to see your deranged expression, before shooting their shoulders and knees, rendering them immobile.

Come burn their eyes blind so that I may fade...!

Dante stopped for a moment to listen clearly at the song, trying to remember the title before beaming just as a bullet was fired to his chest. "Gospel of Terra? Sick!" Soon, he was right beside you, throwing Rebellion to the men like a projectile before picking up an empty rifle as a makeshift blunt weapon.

I shall serve not thee but serve myself...!

Suddenly, something— no, someone, jumped from outside and onto the open, broken window. A black haired lady clad in unusual armor.

taglist!: @mischiefmanaged71 @tamashithe2nd @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @96jnie

#devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #dmc #dmc x reader #dante x reader #dante sparda x reader #gaku's works!#Spotify #devil may cry x reader insert #dmc x reader insert

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youraverageaemondsimp · 1 year ago

Text

Wishlist. // DILF!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader MODERN AU //🎄 SPECIAL

WARNINGS: MDNI, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, lactation kink, breeding kink, fluff, dad!aemond and mom!reader, afab!reader, breast play, nipple play, slight teasing, + not proofread.

WC: 1.4k

« part one // part two »

A/N: your fav dilf and your children are back in town, tis the season to be jolly 🤭 I really wanted to bring this duo back haha, happy late Christmas, sorry for the await! This can also be read as stand alone but reading the prev two fics might help! // divider credits @cafekitsune

“Aenys! Daenys! Be careful, don't run around or you'll slip!” You yelled as you spotted Aenys and Daenys running around with decorations in their hand around the Christmas tree, trying to hang them up.

Daenys trips over the decoration and starts crying, you immediately put down Aelora, your third child down in her high rise chair before rushing over to Daenys and picking her up, patting her back as she clings onto you.

“Shh, there, it's fine, Mommy's got you okay? Don't run around next time.” You tell her and Aenys immediately rushed over to you, “Is she okay?” He asks and you nod, before leaning down and placing a kiss on his forehead.

This year's Christmas was more hectic than before, having a toddler and a kid running around to decorate the tree while managing your one year old isn't exactly easy.

But luckily for you, Aemond had just arrived from work.

“Papa!” Aenys runs over to his father immediately and Aemond picks him up before showering him with kisses, “How was your day Aenys?” He asked him and Aenys started babbling off until he mentioned how Daenys had fallen over just now.

Aemond, being the concerned father he is, immediately rushed to see you holding her in your arms, “You okay darling?” He asks her, holding Aenys up with one arm while caressing Daenys's hair with the other. She looks at her dad before she shifts her weight in his direction, indicating that she wants to be in his arms and Aemond immediately takes her from your arms, carrying both Aenys and Daenys on both of his sides.

You chuckle at how comedic it looks, Aemond was strong enough to carry them both which impressed you, “Aren't they heavy? They're both growing now.” You ask and he smiles and leans to press a kiss to your lips, “Yeah they are, but I want to cherish every moment I can carry them in my arms.” He tells you and you smile.

The evening was spent with giggles and warmth and soon it was time to put the kids to sleep, they kept on babbling about how excited they were to see Santa leave them presents and wondered what they'll get, rambling on how Santa hopefully knows what's on their wishlist and gets exactly them that, you chuckle as you tuck them to bed, placing kisses on their faces and moving to the living room.

You can finally relax, you immediately go into your shared bedroom with Aemond, who already seems to be there, “Aelora fell asleep already?” You ask and he nods, “She seemed very tired.” He tells you.

You sit next to Aemond on the bed, leaning against the headboard as Aemond works on his laptop, you lean your head on his shoulder, watching him work. “Have you gotten the presents for the kids?” You ask curiously and he hums, “Mhm, I can't wait to see their reactions in the morning.” He tells you and you giggle, “I'll place them under the tree at midnight.” You tell him your plan and he closes the laptop, finishing his work and puts it aside on the bedside desk. “What if they catch you?” He turns his full attention to you now, resting his hands on yours. “Oh you know they will not wake up until morning once they fall asleep, sometimes I worry that they're such heavy sleepers.” You tell him playfully and he lets out a small laugh. “Hopefully they like the presents.”

“Speaking of presents, I haven't gotten mine.” Aemond suddenly says and you smile at him, knowing exactly what he wants, “I've even written it down on the wishlist, it seems I was scammed.” He pouts and you chuckle, “Well, Santa can't give you a whole human can he?” You joke around.

When he was asked to put something he wants for Christmas on the wishlist, he wrote down your name on it, making you blush and scribble out that from it.

“Hmm.” He hums as he gazes into your eyes and you look at him back, he leans in slowly before connecting your lips together, they move in passion as the air fills up with tension and desperation, he pulls away breathing heavily.

No words are exchanged as you both hurriedly take off your clothes, and Aemond pins you flat against the bed, showering your face and neck with kisses before gripping your tits with his hand, pinching the nipple.

You gasp when you feel his warm tongue against the bud as he sucks on your breast, he feels your milk fill in his mouth as he swallows it down greedily and pulls away, “Fuck you're still producing milk?” He asks before switching to your other breast and showering it the same attention, “H-hm? Yeah, haven't weaned Aelora off yet.” you tell him and he leaves your breast with a pop, “Not complaining, I fucking love it.” He kisses your lips once again.

His hand caresses and travels further downwards your body to your cunt before dipping into your sweet wetness, “Fuck, you're so soaked, all for me yeah?” He whispers in your ear and you swallow thickly, goosebumps arising when you feel his hot breath near your ear, “Y-yes.” You answer.

His pinches your clit, making you gasp, before slowly rubbing small circles onto it, cause your breath to pick up and pulse begin to race at the arousal. His fingers dip in towards your entrance gently as he places kisses to your neck, “Look how it's engulfing me.” He comments as he watches his finger sink into you before he starts to move.

He curls his fingers before moving them in and out in a certain pattern, hitting your gspot multiple times already, making you wonder if he had its location memorised the way he can find it so easily.

Soon you reach your first orgasm of the night, biting your lip to not be too loud, suppressing your moans in an effort to not wake your baby next room. You should really make your room soundproof, you remember the days when Aemond clamped his hand over your mouth just to keep you from being too loud.

You whine subconsciously when you feel him pull his fingers out and move down, spreading your legs wide before grabbing your calves and placing your legs on his shoulder as he positions his cock against your entrance.

“Literally the best fucking present I could ask for.” He growls as he sinks his cock into your cunt, grunting in pleasure at the pleasure of your walls clamping down and gripping onto him.

He tries to take it slow at first, but it changes the moment you clench around him, unleashing all the frustration he held back and immediately set the pace at a faster rate, causing your body to jolt up and down the bed as you grip on to his hands which were currently holding your waist as in means hold in place securely.

You soon begin to see stars at the way he's moving, your mind spins, feeling the way his cock keeps hitting all the right spots, “Will you give me another?” He asks, panting and you look at him in a daze, “Hm?” You mumble, not understanding what he's asking for.

“Another child, another babe.” He tells you, “You'll let me impregnate you? Fill your womb up with my seed? I fucking love watching you swell with my child, knowing it was me who put it in you.” His words make you more aroused, the thought of having another child with him doesn't bother you and you greedily nod your head, your mind thinking of nothing else besides wanting to be filled up by your husband.

“Fuck—!” He finishes with a grunt, and slowly rides his orgasm out, hitting your sweet spot at the same time, causing you to finish as well.

He immediately plops down next to you and pulls you into his arms, placing kisses on your forehead as you both catch your breath.

“Best fucking Christmas ever.” He pants and you chuckle, “You said that last year too.” You tease and he lets out a loud laugh, “Well, it just gets better every year.” He replies back.

“Aren't we forgetting something?” You question, mind wandering off somewhere else, trying to remember what you were planning on, grabbing your phone and looking at the time, noticing how it said 1AM, you and Aemond look at each other before your eyes widen in realisation.

“Oh right! The presents!”

You both say in unison and rush putting on your clothes just to place the presents underneath the tree.

Needless to say, it was a great Christmas for everyone.

— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

#aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond x reader #aemond x reader smut #x reader smut #reader insert #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you

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nakylvr · 3 months ago

Text

— LOSER

sophia laforteza x fem!reader

synopsis જ⁀➴ after your encounter with sophia the previous night, you think it won't happen again. that is, until she finds you again, and asks a question you haven't heard in a long time.

warnings/tags જ⁀➴ language

wc જ⁀➴ 3,4 k

prev | next | masterlist

hi! i'm back with this! i'm so sorry it took so long 😓 but we're back and running! i have updated everyone who wanted to be added to the taglist which is still open!

“WHAT?!”

“Dani, calm dow-”

“How am I supposed to calm down?!”

“It's nothing, really-”

“She walked you here and gave you her umbrella!???”

You let out a long sigh, rubbing your temples as Daniela sits in her bed across from you in yours. You had just made the mistake of telling her what happened last night when Sophia walked you back to the dorms and gave you the umbrella. You expected this reaction, honestly. But it was a lot for just waking up at ten in the morning

“Yes, she walked me back and gave me her umbrella,” You say slowly so she understands. “It's not that big of a deal.”

“Obviously it is!” Daniela jumps to her feet. “She has never even taken a glance in our direction and now all of a sudden she is trying to talk to you? It's a big deal, Yn!”

“No, it's not!” You groan, falling backward onto your bed.

“Why did you even agree to her walking you back?” Daniela questions, her arms crossed over her chest.

You hesitate before answering. “I don't know,” You mumble.

“Don't lie to me, Yn,” Daniela tells you.

“I just…” You sigh again, sitting up to look at your friend. “I guess…I just wanted to see what would happen if I said yes. She seemed genuine so I let her,” You admit, fiddling with your hands anxiously.

Daniela tries not to sigh at your response. She figured that would be a reason, but she didn't think you would actually agree for Sophia Laforteza to walk you across the campus. “Did anyone see you two?” She asks.

You shake your head, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands. “I don't think so. It was raining pretty bad so I doubt anyone would’ve been able to see.”

“Well, that's good,” Daniela nods. “You know what’ll happen if people find out she's talking to you.”

“Yeah,” You acknowledge, nodding your head. “It's probably the only time it’ll happen, so I’m not going to stress on it.”

“Let's try to keep it that way. I don't need to lose my best friend to some petty popular rich girl,” Daniela says, sitting next to you on your bed and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I love you a shit ton, Yn. I don't want you getting hurt if she does talk to you again. Promise me you'll at least be safe?”

“You won't lose me, Dani,” You reply, leaning your head against her shoulder. “But, I promise. Trust me, I seriously don't think anything will happen. She was probably just being nice.”

“Yeah, nice,” Daniela mutters but you don't hear it.

…

Earlier that morning, Intak was practicing with the soccer team. Now, despite being the best center the team has seen in years, Intak didn't get along well with his teammates. They were basically dumb popular jocks, and they essentially shunned him after he denied wanting to hang out with the popular kids, wanting to hang out with you guys instead. He didn't mind it, though. The guys were assholes anyway.

He kicked the ball into the goal when he felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see one of his teammates.

“Yo, Sophia’s asking for you. Dunno why, just don't be a loser,” The teammate tells Intak.

“Sophia?” Intak tilts his head to the side before looking over to the bleachers and seeing Sophia standing at the edge of the field. “Yeah, uh, okay.” He says before jogging over to the girl.

“Intak!” Sophia smiles when he reaches her. “Sorry if I interrupted.”

“No, you-you're good!” Intak responds, running his hand through his sweaty hair. He is confused about why she's talking to him, and that she even knows his name. But, he isn't going to say that. “So, uh, what did you wanna talk to me about?” He asks her.

“Well,” Sophia clasps her hands together. “I wanted to ask about Yn.” She smiles at him.

“Huh?” Intak lets out, looking at the girl with confusion. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Sophia answers. “You're always around her so I figured you might know something about her that no one else does.”

Intak is growing more and more confused the more Sophia says, and it's evident in the way his eyebrows are furrowed together. “Okay…” His voice trails off. “You're not planning on doing something bad, are you? Because Dani and I will kick your ass if you even try to,” He says firmly, pointing at the girl.

“What?! No! No, no!” Sophia quickly shakes her head. “I’m just– I want to get to know her, is all.”

Intak eyes her for a moment, attempting to see if she's lying or not. It's hard to tell, but he nods his head slowly. “Okay. What do you wanna know?” He asks hesitantly.

Sophia smiles again at his question. “Just the basics,” She replies.

Intak nods again, glancing back at his teammates seemingly not caring that he's talking to Sophia before looking back at her. “Sure,” He says.

After talking with Sophia during the remainder of practice, Intak was walking through the halls while texting the group chat as he drank his water. He had yet to say he talked to Sophia, knowing the reaction he would get out of you all. He figured it’d be better to say it in person.

He did end up telling Sophia what she wanted to know, just some basic random things about you like your favorite color, food, what classes you were in, and stuff like that. He thought it was weird, but he was too nice to say no when she told him she would help him get back on good terms with his team. She was probably lying, but then again, maybe it was good for you to make some new friends. He wanted new friends too, but he loved you guys too much to try and become friends with others. Especially when your group was already labeled as the “loser group”.

Intak stopped abruptly when he read the message you sent to the group chat. Explaining what happened with Sophia last night and it clicked in his brain. “Oh my god,” He mumbles to himself. He types a response on his phone before calling you, which you pick up immediately.

“Intak, don't freak-”

“Yn, what the shit?!” Intak whisper-yells into the phone as he starts to walk again.

“Look, I already dealt with this with Dani, so please don't make a big deal out of this.”

“How do I not?!” Intak says, looking around to not bump into anyone.

“By not freaking out!”

“This is a big deal, Yn!” Intak retorts. “You don- You don’t understand! Sophia was just at my practice asking random ass questions about you!”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Just meet me at the bleachers, I’m going to find Hoon and bring him with. Try to find Dani if you can,” Intak tells you, turning a corner to go where Sunghoon’s dorm was. “I really don’t like this, Yn.”

“You all need to stop worrying, it’s not that big of a deal. You’re all blowing this way out of proportion. But, whatever. I’ll see you at the bleachers, I guess.”

“Thank yo-” Intak can get out before you hang up the phone. He pulls the phone away from his ear and lets out a sigh, continuing to walk to the dorms.

…

Sunghoon laid on his bed, or, what he thought was his bed. It was nearing ten a.m. when the sun peeked through the blinds causing his eyes to open groggily. He lifted his head off the pillow and grabbed his glasses, putting them on and looking to his side. His eyes went wide at the sight.

“Fuck,” He whispered to himself.

Quietly but quickly, Sunghoon got out of the bed and started searching for his clothes in the dorm room he had only been in twice before. He put his shirt on backwards accidentally, almost tripping over his pants before slipping on his shoes. He looked over to the other male in the bed when he heard movement, quietly grabbing his bag before exiting the room as quickly as possible. He glanced around to see if anyone was around before scurrying off to whatever class he was supposed to be in.

Sunghoon hurried down the hallway when suddenly he was grabbed by the back — or rather, the front of his shirt, halting him in his tracks. He let out a yelp before realizing it was Intak. “What the heck, Intak?” He grumbled.

“Your shirt’s on backwards,” Intak tells him, letting go and walking to stand in front of him. “Whose dorm were you just in?”

“What?” Sunghoon questions as he pulls his shirt to see the tag in front of his chest. “I was in my dorm.” He lies.

“Then why didn't you answer any of the group chat texts?” Intak inquires, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I was studying with Yn. You know how midterms are. I slept in for once, sue me,” Sunghoon lies again. “She and I actually study.”

Intak’s eyes narrow, catching the lie. “That's funny. Because Yn just told the group chat that she went straight to the dorms after her last class and that Sophia Laforteza walked her back.”

Sunghoon tenses up at Intak’s response. He was caught in his lie and found out you talked to Sophia again. “She what?” He lets out. “Why?”

“Who were you with?” Intak counters.

“Why does it matter?” Sunghoon retaliates. “I’m not allowed to have other friends?”

“You don't have other friends, Hoon,” Intak tells him. “We both know that.”

Sunghoon shifts on his feet, clearly anxious as he tries to come up with a response. “I was with someone, yes,” He acknowledges. “But, that's not important. Why is Sophia talking to Yn?”

“Dunno,” Intak shrugs. “C’mon, we’re heading to the bleachers to talk about it.”

“Wh- I have a class I’m supposed to be in,” Sunghoon responds.

Intak rolls his eyes at his friend’s words. “Dude, who gives a damn? C’mon,” He says, grabbing Sunghoon’s arm and starting to drag him down the halls.

“What the- Intak, you can’t just- Whatever,” Sunghoon tries, but knows his words will fall deaf on Intak’s ears. He lets the other male drag him to the bleachers, where the group normally went to sit and talk when on campus grounds.

Once they got to the bleachers, you were sitting there with Daniela talking. Looking in the boys’ direction, you raise an eyebrow when you see Sunghoon’s shirt.

“You know your shirt is on backwards, Hoon?” You ask him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Sunghoon nods, putting his bag down and sitting down next to you. “What happened? I haven’t had a chance to read the messages,” He says, taking his glasses off and cleaning them with his shirt before putting them back on.

“Well!” Daniela speaks up before you. “Our lovely Yn here apparently had Sophia talk to her again. And walked her back to the dorm. And gave her some fucking umbrella.”

You reach your hand over to Daniela’s which was balled into a fist, resting on top of it while looking at Sunghoon who was staring back in confusion.

“She what?” He lets out, confused. “Why?”

“That's what we're trying to figure out,” Daniela tells him.

“Guys, I seriously don't think it's that big of a deal!” You sigh loudly.

“Well, it’s odd, you have to admit,” Sunghoon says. “For someone who has never looked in our direction before, don’t you think it’s a little odd that suddenly she’s speaking to you?”

“Well–” You start.

“She also asked me a bunch of random shit about you!” Intak interrupts.

“What?” Daniela and Sunghoon both look at Intak.

“Yeah!” The boy nods quickly. “It was super weird, how did she even know I was on the team? Let alone that practice was today?!”

“See! More weird things!” Daniela exclaims, swinging around her hand that wasn’t being held by you. “This doesn’t make any sense!’

“You’re overthinking it!” You stand up abruptly, letting go of Daniela’s hand. The three all look at you with wide eyes, going silent at your sudden outburst. “For the first time since we came to this school, someone has shown a little bit of interest in me! And instead of being supportive friends, you think it’s some kind of lie or something!”

“Yn–”

“No! I’m not going to listen to this shit anymore!” You cut off Daniela, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “You guys really suck sometimes.” You shake your head and start stomping away.

“Shit, Yn!” Daniela starts to get up but stops when Sunghoon puts his hand on her shoulder.

“Let her go,” He tells her. “She needs some time.”

“Whatever.” Daniela smacks his hand off her shoulder. “I still don't like this.”

“Me either!” Intak groans dramatically. “It's only going to end bad.”

“Drop it.” Sunghoon snaps at the two, making them look at him with surprise. “Like she said, we should be supportive of someone talking to Yn, even if it is Sophia. We shouldn't interfere if she doesn't want us to. Okay?” He glances between the two.

“Okay,” Intak says with a nod.

“That means you too, Dani.” Sunghoon looks at the blonde. “You're on thin ice already where you are. Don't fuck it up.”

“Okay,” Daniela grumbles under her breath.

…

Walking down the hallway with your earbuds playing music, you find yourself where you always end up – the empty music room.

Closing the door behind you, you take one of your earbuds out, letting it hang by the cord as you set your things down on one of the small tables. Sitting down, you pull out your notebook and pen from your bag, setting them down in front of you. You flip through the first few pages before stopping on a page.

For the past few months you’d been working on different songs, and thankfully with the school having a recording studio, you could actually get somewhere with it. You have nine finished songs that just need to be recorded, and one last one you were still struggling with writing the lyrics for. It was rare for you to get stuck once you got started, but as you reread the words on the page, you still couldn’t come up with anything.

Despite doing it solely for fun, it was stressful at the same time. At least, right now it was. You tap the pen on the table while continuing to gaze at the words, nothing coming up in your mind of what to write the chorus. All you had done was the first verse, and you had no idea where it was going.

“God…” You groan, resting your head on the notebook.

“Struggling?”

You jump at the voice, sitting up and quickly closing your notebook, and turning your head to see Sophia standing there. “How long were you standing there?” You ask.

“Just now,” Sophia answers. “Didn't mean to scare you like last time.” She smiles sheepishly.

“It's fine,” You mumble. “Are you stalking me or something? How did you know I was here?”

“Coincidence?” Sophia says. “I saw you storming away from the bleachers and followed you.”

One of your eyebrows raises at this. “Why?”

“Well, you looked upset,” She shrugs. “I expected you to be here of all places anyway.”

“Well you found me,” You wave your arms up before they land back at your sides. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to ask you something.” Sophia takes a few steps towards you.

You couldn't lie, you were curious now. What did she want to ask you? And why was she asking it now, when you were alone? “Okay…” Your voice trails off. “Spit it out.”

“There's a party my friend is hosting this weekend and I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

What?

You stare at the girl for a few moments, blinking occasionally trying to process her words. “I’m sorry, you want me to what?” You finally say, looking at her with confusion.

“You don't have to say yes,” Sophia is quick to say once seeing the look on your face. “I just thought maybe you’d want to go with me.”

What.

Your lips are parted in surprise at her words, struggling to figure out a response. While you hate parties and haven't been to one since you were in high school, part of you wants to say yes. “What do you mean by with you?” You question, needing a real confirmation before you answer.

“It's a plus one kinda thing,” Sophia replies. “He doesn't like too many people showing up, it causes too many problems.” She pauses for a second before continuing. “You’d be with me the whole time, and I promise nothing will happen to you.”

You try to hide the shock you're in, but it is evident with your wide eyes as she continues talking. She says it like it's nothing, like it's the truth. And it has you believing it is.

“When is this party?” You ask.

Sophia’s smile turns into a grin at your question. “This Saturday.”

Nodding your head, you pick up your notebook and put it back in your bag, zipping it up and putting it on your shoulder. You walk up to Sophia, standing in front of her close enough that she can see the barely noticeable smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “Give me your phone,” You say.

Sophia doesn't ask why or say anything, pulling her phone out and handing it over to you. You open the contacts and put your number in before handing the phone back to her. “Then you'll text me just to confirm, right?”

Sophia takes her phone back and nods her head, surprised by your actions but trying not to show it. “Yeah,” She says. “Yeah, I will.”

“I’ll be waiting, Laforteza.” You start walking out of the room, leaving Sophia standing there with her phone still in her hands like an idiot.

That was easier than she expected it to be. And it wouldn't have been if not for the mini argument with your friends minutes prior. But, then why was Sophia’s heart beating incredibly fast? Why did she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding when you left the room? Why was she surprised by your actions?

…

“Where the hell is she?”

“Doing what you told her to do.”

“Well, it shouldn't take this long!”

“Maybe she has to convince her. It would probably take a while.”

“I can hear you talking about me from a mile away,” Sophia pops up behind the group, making them all jump.

“Jesus, Soph!” Jay sighs loudly. “What the fuck?”

“What? It's not my fault you talk loud.” The Filipina shrugs, sitting down next to him at the table.

“Well, did you ask her?” He asks, putting his phone down.

“I did.” Sophia nods. “And she said yes.”

“Really?” The three let out, looking at Sophia with surprise.

“Did you bribe her?” Lara asks.

“No.” Sophia shakes her head. “I didn't even have to convince her!”

“Wow,” Manon lets out. “That's a shocker.”

“Totally,” Jay agrees.

“But, that means whatever you’re doing is working.”

“Yeah, which is a good thing.” Lara nods. “I mean, it’s like you said, how could anyone resist you?”

“Right,” Sophia responds, nodding her head.

While the three talked, Sophia zoned out for a few minutes. The plan was working, but she didn’t even really know what she was doing for it to work. She had caught herself hesitant to even enter the music room when she saw you storming off inside, and that was new. Sophia never hesitated for anything. She knew what she wanted, she did what she wanted, and she would get what she wanted. But, she didn’t know what she wanted. That was a first. She was well put together and didn’t have issues with a lot of things. But, this was already steering in a different direction just by your actions. She didn’t know what to do about it.

“Sophia, are you listening?”

“What?” Sophia looks over at the three.

“We need you to buy booze for the party, can you do that?” Manon asks.

“Yeah, sure.” Sophia nods.

“Cool, it’s gonna be a real banger,” Jay smiles.

Sophia just nods again, a fake smile on her face as she listens to them start talking again, her mind wandering to different things.

This wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought.

taglist (open!) :

@zhivaxo ; @yeetaberry127 ; @ourlovesarang ; @ponyojoo ; @jeindall777 ; @falling-intoo-deep ; @mcuppidz ; @baelabong ; @miyanok ; @jellaaa ; @winieter ; @artrizzler19 ; @starstruckgoateepuppy ; @pminjucaptor ; @dismaldiary ; @sixflame438 ; @hwonnrinji ; @gtfoiydlyj ; @lafortezalover ; @sunshinez4 ; @greenniee ;

#katseye x reader #katseye imagines #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia x reader #sophia imagine #10 things i hate about you series

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winxanity-ii · 2 months ago

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𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓: 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Sorry, not an update, but I'll try to keep this short...

I just wanted to take a second to speak directly and honestly with y'all after posting that last chapter (CHAPTER 42.5: WRATH WEARS MANY FACES). I've been seeing a few responses that, while valid in feeling, have also reminded me why I normally don't look at comments after publishing something heavy.

Let me be clear: I know this chapter was a lot. It was violent. It was cruel. It was painful. That was intentional.

This isn't fluff. This isn't comfort every chapter. This is a mythos-based story, rooted in ancient violence, power imbalance, and divine wrath.

I'm not here writing gore for fun or romanticizing harm—but I am writing a story where gods and mortals alike are capable of monstrous things, especially when they feel justified.

Chapter 42.5 was especially meant to remind you who Apollo, Hermes, and Telemachus really are—how close they sit to the divine cruelty of Olympus. I love them, yes. They're soft to MC, yes. But they are not soft to the world and those they deem unimportant/useless. That contrast is what makes their tenderness meaningful.

And I've hidden Hermes' darker side behind jokes long enough. Some of y'all forgot he's a god, and a trickster, and someone with centuries of blood under his belt. There's nothing squeaky clean about him.

If the chapter bothered you—I understand. It's not meant to sit easy. And for those of you who felt empathy for Melanion, or said this felt too much... I respect your reactions. Seriously. You're allowed to feel conflicted. That's what good storytelling should do.

But what isn't okay is the passive-aggressive commentary about my choices as a writer. I've been transparent from the beginning: this fic isn't some wholesome, "MC gets babied 24/7" kind of tale. It's a dark, myth-heavy journey with stakes and consequences. You don't get a kiss in Chapter 2 here. You had to wait because the world I'm building doesn't hand out softness that easily.

And I can't help but find it a bit hypocritical how some folks cheer for Andreia to die, but pity the man who murdered MC in cold blood. Y'all got mad at her for emotional cruelty, but want grace for someone who left them bleeding in an alley? We must not have grown up reading the same myths lol.

I'm not saying you can't critique or feel strongly. You're welcome to disagree. To feel things deeply. That's human. But don't twist the space/story I've created into something it was never meant to be. This isn't an Epic Musical fluff AU (hence the note of not needing to actually know about it). This is Olympus. This is blood-soaked marble. This is war, consequence, and love wrapped in power dynamics. I've made that plenty clear with me writing out the suitors carnage in chapter 6 instead of summarizing it.

And I say this with love but also honesty: if my content, tone, or direction rubs you the wrong way, it's okay to step away. Truly. I'll never beg anyone to read something outside their comfort zone.

Also—and this might be petty but I'm adding it here anyway—I'm even more annoyed because I had to spoil a big MC-related moment to my own sister. 😭

We promised to treat each other as authors, only editing each other's chapters once we’d both read them fully. That was the deal. But she noticed I was acting off and pushed me about it—kept asking what was wrong and finally told me to just rant before it ate me alive. So I did.

And man, I'm a damn blabbermouth because once I started venting, it all spilled out. Do you know how hard it was keeping a main plot twist from her? Only to have to reveal it because sister issues come first?? 😭💀

But yeah, back to being serious, this is my second serious fic, one where I'm trying to do something I can look back on and be like 'Xani, you ate that up fr.' And if that means I have to block people who threaten the joy or safety of my creative space?

Then so be it—rejection sensitivity or not.

That being said, I'm taking a real break from updating. I know I said I was taking a break after the last chapter, but the truth is, I was just trying to pace myself and stay ahead without losing momentum...but now I mean it—for real. I think I need an actual one to cool off and not spiral.

And yeah... maybe this rant feels a little intense or childish to some of y'all, but I needed to say it or I was just gonna end up doing something impulsive that I'd end up regretting later.

To those of you who do get it, who read carefully and trust the process—thank you. Deeply.

I'll see y'all soon 🖤

—Xani

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight apad-ravya suckerforblondies jolixtreesunn dreamtheatre woncloudie byzantiumhollow kisskisskys b4ts1e sarcasticbitchsblog trashcannotbealive idkanyonealrr

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barefoothighlander · 2 years ago

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call me little sunshine - iii

-summary: you come home for summer break to find a new man has moved in next door, he’s charming and mysterious so you welcome him to the neighbourhood

-simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

-warnings: mdni (18+), dark themes, smut, unprotected pinv, slight stalker!ghost, public sex, fingering, creampie, underwear as a gag, possessive!ghost, age gap

prev part masterlist

a/n: this part is short but it’s basically porn with plot anyways so

It had been four days since he left, he didn’t tell you where he was going, only that he’d be gone for a while. You didn’t want to know, whatever he was doing it didn’t concern you, you needed to distance yourself from him, his mere existence a stain on your conscious.

You found yourself dreaming of him, your body jolting awake from the too-familiar sensation of his touch, it scorched your skin. As if your thoughts weren’t already consumed by him, he had snuck his way into your sleeping mind, intent on invading the entirety of you.

The morning of the fourth day you woke up in a thin layer of sweat, the warmth outside doing little to settle your mental unrest. Sleeping was difficult, the only comfort you found was in his presence, his warmth holding you, keeping you safe. You wanted to call him, to reach out but every part of you fought against it, this perverse relationship that had taken over your life, it felt wrong, dirty.

You turn in your bed, arms reaching for your side table where the key to his house lay, mocking you as you stare at it, you could easily just go to his room, lay in his bed and let the scent of him wash over you, you could snoop around, try and figure out more about him, even if would hurt you.

The pinging of your phone breaks you from your thoughts, grabbing the device to read the message,

In town for the day, meet up? x

You let out a sigh at the message, a text from an old friend, Jake, you're relieved it isn't Simon. You think it over in your head, you hadn't seen Jake in a few months, going your separate ways after the semester ended, he was kind, considerate, everything Simon wasn't, you unlock your phone to message back.

Sounds good, does noon work?

Works perfect babe, see you then. x

It'd be nice to be around some new masculine energy you think, see an old friend, have a conversation about something other than sex, it'll be refreshing.

11:30 rolls around and you make your way into town, it's a short drive, only a few minutes but the streets are narrow meaning you'd have to walk a few blocks to the cafe you and Jake agreed upon. It's right beside a small bed and breakfast that he was staying at, his face lights up upon meeting your gaze.

"Been too long darling" He wraps his arms around you, placing a kiss on your cheek, you smile back at him, your hands settling on his shoulders.

"Missed you too Jake"

He directs you to a small table outside the cafe, pulling your chair out slightly to allow you to sit, moving to sit in front of you. He's a ball of energy, asking questions about your summer break, answering your questions about his travels, your chest warms with the sense of familiarity, you're comfortable around Jake, he doesn't make you nervous or scared.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't attracted to him, he was handsome, chin length curly brown hair, dark eyes, and the same gold medallion around his neck that he never took off, you rest your chin on your hand, watching him as he speaks, he's passionate about his travels, specific with his words.

"Do I have something on my face?" He smiles, you break from your trance, shaking your head as a blush rises to your cheeks,

"No, sorry, just got distracted" You laugh

"Well, what about you, any new guys in your life?"

You hitch your breath, the words striking a nerve,

"Nope"

"Not one? Seriously?"

You lie through your teeth, "Not one"

The rest of your conversation is mundane, he asks about school and your family, listening intently as you talk about your studies, you can't help the smile that persists on your face, he made you feel relaxed, he was predictable and calm, it was nice to spend time with someone who didn't make your entire body feel like it was being engulfed by flames, but the itch of him was still there, the way his fingers traced your skin, it was something you could never forget.

Trying to busy yourself after getting home you wind up tending to the garden in your backyard, kneeling in the dirt as you prune the leaves of a few bushes of flowers, oblivious to your surroundings including the heavy slam of a car door in the front yard.

"You look good like that, on your knees"

There's no mistaking his voice, his deep accent echoing in your bones as you turn to face him, he's invited himself onto your property, leaning against the small shed that sat in the corner of the yard as he eyes you.

"Good afternoon to you too"

"Who was that bloke you were with earlier?"

"What?"

"The boy that sat across from you at the cafe, who was he"

"Were you spying on me?"

"Answer the question"

You stand from your position, moving closer to him, his scent invading your senses, it was like no matter what you did, there would be something about him that commanded your attention.

"A friend"

"A boyfriend"

"Just a friend"

"Don't like the sound of that"

"You sound jealous" A small smirk on your lips

"Not jealous love"

"Then what?" You stand closer, taunting him, watching his eyes rake over your chest as his crossed arms tighten.

"Did he touch you"

"Maybe"

"Don't be a fuckin' brat"

"What if he did? Would you hurt him?"

"I'd fuckin kill em"

You huff a small laugh, staring up at him with rounded eyes, "You don't own me, Simon, I can fuck whoever I please"

That sets him off, he drops his arms, stepping forward and forcing your body back, invading your space until your back collides with the wall of the shed, his body trapping you. He leans down, his lips next to your ear, the hair on your neck standing on end in anticipation,

"You're being a little brat you know that" He whispers, turning his face so you can see his eyes, waiting for your response,

"Didn't realize" You whimper

His breath lingers over your skin, arousal dripping from your core in anticipation,

"Watch your mouth"

You let out a sigh as his hand connects with the skin of your thigh, tracing his fingers closer to your core, you elicit a moan as his hand cups your clothed sex, his fingers pinching over your soaked folds.

“So wet already, you need me don’t you, say it”

You turn your head to face him, your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you look at him, it’s been too long, and he feels so right.

“I need you”

“That’s my girl, only I can touch you”

“Only you”

He slips his fingers under the band of your panties, tugging them down your legs before closing his fingers around them.

“I’ve missed you my angel”

He teases his fingers through your folds, collecting your slick and spreading it around, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as your hands reach for him.

“Gotta be quiet, don’t wanna wake the neighbour’s”

His words mean nothing, all you can focus on is the way his digits work your pussy, teasing over all the right spots as you crumble before him, his large form pressing against you, keeping you pinned to the wall as his lips press against your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

“You’re not gonna cum, not until I stretch you out on my cock”

You clench around nothing, his words guiding your body, keeping you on a high that would have no end, not unless he said so.

He grabs your hand, placing it over his hardening cock, squeezing your smaller fingers around his length,

“Feel that, that’s what you do to me, hurts, you gonna fix it?” He mumbles against your skin, you nod lightly,

“Please, want to help”

“Knew you would baby”

He moves back, undoing his pants to let his cock spring free, your core aches at the sight, his tip red and dripping as you move your hands to it.

His fingers stay on your clit as he uses an arm to lift you, his chest pressed to yours as he lines himself up. You let out a cry as he pushes in, the stretch of him too much after too long apart,

“Gotta stay quiet”

Your hands cling to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he pushes in further, a string of moans from your lips as he bottoms out. He turns his gaze to you, his eyes dark as he reaches a hands up,

“Open”

He pushes the fabric into your mouth, stuffing it inside your lips, the taste of your slick lingering on it as it soaks in your saliva.

“There we go”

He braces his hands on your waist, holding you as he pulls his cock out, dragging it along your dripping walls as your head drops back, your moans muffled by your panties.

“Missed this pussy so much”

He grunts as he thrusts into you, bottoming out with every stroke, his thumb tracing over your clit, your body teetering on the edge of orgasm as he works you open.

“Can he fuck you like this, huh?”

You pull your focus to him, his eyes staring back at you as his hips snap upwards, you try to respond but it comes out a muffled mess, shaking your head.

“That’s right, this pussy belongs to me, it’s fuckin mine” He punctuates his words with a thrust, forcing the head of his cock deep inside you as your slick drips from your core, pooling around the base of his cock.

Your saliva pools at the edges of your mouth, dripping down your chin as he grabs your hips, lifting your body and forcing it down on time with his thrusts,

“Fuck, not gonna last long with this tight pussy squeezin’ me”

Your hands paw at his skin, grabbing at his shirt, trying to ground yourself,

“Cum for me, show me how good I make you feel”

His words snap the band in your stomach, your orgasm tearing through your body as you writhe in his grip, your sobs quiet in your throat as tears prick at your eyes.

“That’s it, my perfect girl, my perfect fuckin girl”

His orgasm follows yours, his thrusts sloppy as he chases his high, wrapping his arms around your back as he holds you to him, burying his cock inside you as he floods your walls with his cum, the liquid dripping from your core as you spit the gag from your mouth, panting against his shoulder.

He holds his softening cock in you, his lips pressing softly to your neck as he mumbled against the skin.

He lowers you slowly, his hand on your waist steadying your wobbling legs as you lean back against the shed, heavy eyes staring back at him.

“Daddy’s home”

You furrow your brows at him, his gaze drawing your attention to your fathers car that had pulled into the driveway, panic setting into your nerves.

“I don’t want to see him with you again”

You’re in a daze, brain completely fogged, unable to form a response as you watch your fathers form grow closer, focused on him as Simon leans down toward the ground.

“Afternoon” He shouts, waving to the two of you,

“Good to see you, was just getting some gardening tips from your daughter, can’t seem to keep even a weed alive in my yard”

“She’s fantastic isn’t she, very gentle hand”

Simons smirks at the words, stepping back slightly from your body,

“You alright hun? Looks like this heats getting to you”

Your cheeks flush, thankful that the sheen of your skin seemed to hide it from your father, “Mhm, just been out too long I guess”

“Well, you should get inside, I’m sure you can talk to Simon later”

“Right, I’ll see you both later then” You nervously add, moving past the men toward your house, eyes staring at your feet as you leave.

You rush toward your room, your skin on fire as you peel back your curtains, watching the two men interact in your yard, you see Simons hand in his pocket, fidgeting as you squint your eyes.

Realization hits, it’s your panties in his pocket, he’s playing with your panties as he talks to your father, you can’t tell if the sweat on your skin is from the heat, embarrassment or how turned on it makes you. It feels so wrong, everything about him, the way he treats you, using you at his will, but you crave his touch, his words, everything about him.

There’s no escape anymore, you can’t avoid him no matter what you try, he’s always there, might as well give in.

#simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost fluff #ghost mw2 #simon riley x you #mw2022 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #call of duty mwii #simon ghost riley angst #cod mw x reader #call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley angst

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galaxiasgreen · 8 months ago

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🍺🖤This Hell We Create

Sebastian x F!Muggle!Reader with eventual smut, minor Garrinis [E-rated, 4.8k words]

"You ain't got a bad face either, lad. You looking for a partner? My daughter is quite beautiful." You hope Sebastian will chalk all that to the mania, but he wiggles his eyebrows at you. "That she is, sir."

You have a bad day – Sebastian seeks to change that.

[MASTERLIST][FIRST][PREV][NEXT] [read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

TW: alcoholism, grief, coarse language, dementia/ Alzheimer's disease.

3. good days, bad days

When Sebastian collapses onto the barstool, you can see the withdrawal written like plain English on his face.

"You know what I want," he croaks. "Please."

It's another typical weekday in a late summer heatwave. You pour him a stout and slide it across the counter, and as he guzzles it greedily, Adam's apple bobbing to the rhythm, you note the haggard look on his face. He's handsome, that's for sure, but today he's also worn down, stretched and contracted by the universe itself to leave this brittle husk behind.

"You looked like you needed that."

He slams the glass down.

"There are good days and there are bad days," he says, panting hard. "Today... today is a bad day."

He drags his thumb up his temple, plying one of the veins that protrudes across. He's sweating, from the heat and the relief, and you watch a fat droplet roll down his face. It sets a course along his jaw, down the sharp angle of his chin before it finally drips onto the back of his hand.

"You shouldn't stop immediately," you say, forcing yourself to look away. "You need to give time for your body to adjust."

"You think I don't know that?"

You say nothing.

He recoils a little. "Sorry. Shouldn't snap."

"Irritability," you mumble. "It's a symptom."

"That explains why everything is so fucking annoying today." His eyes meet yours. "You must've seen loads like me."

"Eight years' worth, yeah. You're not the first and you won't be the last."

"Have you ever..." He swallows. "How many have beat it?"

The answer leaps fully formed onto your tongue. None. None at all. You've seen people try, make promises to God when they're broken and on their knees... and you've seen those same people stagger their way back to your counter, begging for respite the only way they know how. Sometimes you never see them again, when someone imparts the sad news dressed in funeral black.

"Just because I ain't seen it doesn't mean it didn't happen – doesn't happen. It's possible." Sebastian is much too clever for lies and sickly sweet encouragement, but you stare at him straight anyway. "You survived the passing of your sister. That toughens a person. You can beat this."

Yet he thrusts his empty glass in your direction, a wordless plea that breaks your heart. You refill it in exchange for more coin, and Sebastian doesn't take his eye off your movements – pulling the leaver down, pouring the dark gold liquid, letting the foam float to the top. A skein spills over when you pass it back to him, and he draws his tongue up the glass slowly to lick it clean. You track it hungrily.

"It's all bloody pointless, isn't it?"

You focus on his eyes again, coffee, ground, chewed up and spat out.

"I'll keep trying. Every day I wake up and I just want to drink, and I tell myself no, because that's how it's supposed to be, but everyone knows I'll come back here. If Ominis took my feet I'd crawl on my knees, and if he took my knees I'd drag myself by my hands. I'd find a way. It just doesn't stop."

"It stops," you say, "when you choose to stop."

"It doesn't work like that. You know it doesn't." He gazes at you stormily over the lip of his glass. "Just because you choose to free yourself from the maw of a beast doesn't mean it'll let you go."

Last time he got like this you threw it back at him. This time it feels different. Sebastian isn't angry at the world – he's just angry at himself, and that only warms you with tides of pity and sorrow. In the next stride you're hoisting up the bar door and plonking yourself onto the stool at his side, aware of his scent, musky with the heat, and the way his eyes hook onto you, never once leaving yours.

"I don't do... comfort," you warn him. "Trying to beat addiction is shit, and I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I'm sorry that you're in this situation," you clarify. "Here's the thing though: you're going to fail. You're going to fail over and over. But what really matters is you don't give up when the going gets tough. You get up. Because the only one who can beat this thing is you."

He drinks again, slower now, contemplative, and he manages to stop a third of the way down.

"Not bad advice for someone who doesn't do comfort," he mumbles. "When I used to live up north, I got to know the barkeep at my local, too. She gave good advice. Must be in the profession."

"Must be all the listening to so many people whinge."

"You love it really." A smile peels out from his melancholy, which is gratifying to see. "Her name was Sirona. She was like a mother to me."

"Sirona?" You scoff. "You make a habit being on first-name basis with every barkeep, Sallow?"

"Nah, not all." He winks. "Just the pretty ones."

You roll your eyes and go to stand, get back to work, but Sebastian catches your hand. His fingers, though large and strong and ribbed with veins, are deceptively soft and gentle, and his thumb grazes over the skin, lighting up some darkness in your chest.

"Thank you."

It's simple, but it means the world.

When you wake one morning, the sunrise has long sheared away the darkness of your bedroom in the eaves.

That means you're late.

You curse yourself and throw off the blanket. It must be after seven. Damn it. You forgot to set your alarm clock last night, so overwhelmed with fatigue that you hit the sack immediately upon closing up the pub. Scrambling to make up for lost time, you throw on a day dress and apron and sprint downstairs.

Your mother stoops over the window sill overlooking the beer garden. The gnarled ridge of her spine protrudes out her back. What little hair she has is wispy and white, like a tuft of cloud, and her fingers crackle when they touch the glass, bony and desiccated from years of hard work.

"Mama—"

She doesn't turn around. "It's a pretty day, isn't it, dear?"

You frantically check she hasn't hurt herself – a scrape, bruise or God forbid, blood – but she seems unharmed, and you send a thank you upwards as you usher her towards the armchair. "It is, Mama."

"Where's Fluffy? Haven't heard him barking up a storm yet."

"Running around outside, Mama. Sit here. I'll get you breakfast."

Instead you race across the hall and almost crash into your papa, clenching the bannister for dear life. His withered face, sagged with age, makes no issues for his beaming smile, boasting his yellowed teeth.

"I dreamt of Margate today. We should go there, don't you think, dear? Last time we went you devoured three scoops of ice cream in ten seconds!"

Margate, the famous beach town over in west England. Your parents took you a few times when you were young, the only family day trips you could afford. The memories are fond and sentimental, though you haven't had three scoops of ice cream since you were about five.

"We'll see, Papa."

You slip a hand beneath his arm, trying not to flinch at how frail he is, and help him to the parlour. Your mama has moved from the chair again, back at the window, staring at the endless blushing sky. It's approaching the later months now, when the morning is a balancing act between sunlight and ink, and you have to squint to see the tiny mound at the back of the garden, where Fluffy has been buried for four years.

It doesn't matter that they forget, that they can't help themselves anymore. They're all you have left.

You feed them, you dress them, you wash them of their soiled clothes. You tuck them into their respective armchairs, then take a moment to clean yourself, checking periodically between sponging away last night's sweat to make sure they haven't fallen over and knocked into something. There's no time for grub now, so you head downstairs just as the front door bangs.

"Ada, hello."

Ada's low-cut dresses don't surprise you anymore; you don't have to imagine what she does after she's finished here for the day. She tears the cigarette from her lips and blows the smoke out, the stink of it stifling.

"Late today?"

"I slept in."

"Still counts as my time. And I want payment upfront."

It's getting more costly – two shillings, six pence – but you pay it, because the alternative is much worse. Ada bites each coin before pocketing them and silently making her way upstairs.

You snatch an apron from the side. It's time to work. You count the stock, clean the tables, accept deliveries and prepare food all before the other staff arrive – Bonny gives you a sweet smile.

"You aw'right, Miss?"

Her assaulter behind bars, she's been feeling much better about coming to work. It'll never be the same for her, but you take some comfort in knowing there's peace in closure.

"I'm fine. Can you rake the garden today?"

"'Course, but..."

"What?"

"Your hair's got a mind of it's own, Miss. You sure you're okay?"

You finger-comb it down. "Just get to work, please."

Your stomach growls when you open, but you push through for the late morning crowd. The in-house chef cooks breakfast, breads soaked in hot lard, smoked kipper on rye, beef gruels and broth, which only makes you long more for a moment to sit down. I woke up late, this is my punishment. Things only exacerbate when two – two – clumsy patrons drop their glasses, leaving you to clean up the shattered remains, and another woman gives you a bollocking for bungling an order.

Not even a surprise visit from Sebastian at eleven o'clock brightens your mood.

"You're early," you remark, when he sinks into his stool.

He raises an eyebrow. "And you're sharp. I thought I'd pop in. Bad day, huh?"

"I'm not an alcoholic."

"Hey, even you normal drinkers have Bad days."

Then today is a Bad day – a really fucking Bad day.

"I slept in. That's all."

He grins. "Guess it's my turn to comfort you, huh?"

"Don't need comfort."

"Like a fish doesn't need water?" When you shoot him a steely glare, he simply sticks out his tongue. "You're being crabby today. Ever thought about taking a break? Having a night out with friends?"

"No time."

"No time for friends?"

"No time to make them."

"Well, you've met Ominis. How about we share?" You wince; Sebastian laughs. "He's all right once you get to know him. You should meet Garreth too, he's a good sport. What about your parents?"

The bad mood colours with fear. "What about them?"

"You said they were retired. Do they live in the country?"

"You think I can afford to buy them property in the country?"

"Where do they live then?"

"Not here."

"Why not go visit them?"

"I see them every day."

It slips out. Fuck. A stupid mistake. His lips roll, but hopefully he can't see the way you've bent the truth.

"And you?" you ask quickly, busying your hands so you don't have to meet his gaze. "What about your parents?"

"Ah." He draws his thumb pensively across his cheek. "They're dead."

"Oh." Bugger.

His lips split into a grin. "The look on your face... relax, bar girl. It was a long time ago. Happens to everyone eventually."

You don't want to think about that.

"Tell me about them," he says, making himself more comfortable as panic runs riot in your bones. "Are they as crabby as you?"

"I am not crabby."

You are a little crabby.

"Nowt much to tell," you mumble, before he can retort. "Both of them worked here their whole lives, barely a break in between. Mama took some time off when they had me, but while I kipped she'd come down to wait tables."

His gaze flickers upwards. "You lived upstairs?"

Fuck. "Yeah. I mean, I do now, they don't."

"So you're here all the time? What do you do for fun?"

You slap your hands to the counter. Sebastian doesn't even flinch.

"I don't have time for a bloody interrogation, Sebastian. Do you want a drink or not?"

Instead the bastard leans a head in his hands, and bats his eyelids like a dewy-eyed debutante.

"You should swear more. I like it when you're crabby."

"You see that pot hanging up behind me? You're going to become very acquainted with it if you don't shut up."

He leans close until his breath whispers along your nose.

"I like you most when you're angry at me."

Before you can grab the pot, the stock room door groans opens.

"Dear!" cries your mama.

Every muscle in your body goes cold. You swing around, sure you misheard the voice, but it is her, smile wide and ignorant, shuffling towards you with the pace of a determined turtle.

You freeze. How did she get downstairs? And why? What the hell is Ada doing? And why isn't it the thing you're bloody paying her for?

"Mama," you step forwards to intercept her, "you shouldn't be here—"

"Oh, hello, young man," she says, regarding Sebastian. "My, you're very muscular, aren't you?"

You flush. "Mama—"

"Part of my job, ma'am," Sebastian responds smoothly. "I see where your daughter's beauty comes from."

You lose the ability to speak. My beauty? Your mother chortles. "What a charmer. What are you having?"

There's no beer in front of him, but still he says, "Stout."

"Ah." There's a twinkle in her eye. "That's my favourite of the beers. Did you know the name comes from its strength? Not one for the weak-willed."

"I didn't know that." His eyes slide to you. "Good to know I'm not weak-willed."

"I will never forget my first sip. Seventeen, managed to flirt with the barkeep for a pint to impress another man. Was sitting in that very stool. I knew he saw right through me but he gave me a pint anyway. Awful, didn't have the stomach for it back then, yet I drank the whole thing. Funny. I never saw the other man after that night, but the barkeep, well." She gives you a squeeze. "I think there was magic involved."

"I'll bet," Sebastian replies. "It's always good to believe in a little magic."

"Mama," you say tiredly. "Let's get you back upstairs."

"I miss Margate," she says as you take her arm. "We should go to Margate, shouldn't we, dear? The beach is lovely. Your father misses it so much, and you can have your ice cream."

"One day, Mama."

Sebastian gets to his feet. "Let me help you."

You can't say no. He ducks beneath the bar door and snakes his arm through your mother's. She looks at him strangely.

"Hello there. Where did you come from?"

It feels like your life is collapsing. This part of your image, carefully crafted to hide a terrible secret, has cracked upon the face – and what good is porcelain when it is no longer perfect? You put one foot after the other, mindful of your mama's pace, and Sebastian's, as you lead her into the stock room, and to the stairs leading back up to the house.

Ada is halfway down once you shut the door behind you. Her face is flushed. "Swear, I went to help your papa wash— I was only gone for two seconds—"

"Later," you snap. "Just do your bloody job now."

She heads back up the stairs, sheepish, as you and Sebastian follow up, and finally get her settled back into her armchair. You're frighteningly aware of how silent Sebastian is, how his eyes dart about, drinking in the details of your home, your space. Already you're thinking of a hundred excuses. She's just sick, this isn't normal, she didn't forget who you were in the space of a minute. It's useless now.

Sebastian will see through it all.

He doesn't say a word when you return back downstairs, after you lock the stockroom door. The day has turned from Bad to Catastrophic – the best you can do now is damage control.

Your pour him a stout and slide it to him.

"Please don't tell anyone."

He stares at it, confused. "What?"

"You can have free drinks, forever," you whisper. "Food too. Whatever you want—"

"Whoa, bar girl!" He laughs. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't need charity."

"Money then?"

"What makes you think I'll tell anyone?"

You flick your gaze between his eyes, but he's quite serious. "I know they're... they're..." mad, you can't say aloud, "but please, you can't tell anyone. I can't have them sent away to an asylum. They're all I have left."

"I'm not going to tell anyone," he says softly. "I promise."

It's not very reassuring, frankly. You paid Ada to take care of them, and she couldn't even do that. But Sebastian's never broken his word before, not with you, not with Bonny. You just wish he didn't know – wish you could erase the memory like it never existed at all.

"Are you going to take them?" he asks, breaking your train of thought.

"What?"

"To the beach?" Sebastian leans his head in his hands again. "Your mama wanted to go, said your father did too..."

You blurt a shrill laugh. "'Course not. The nearest beach is miles away and I ain't got the time nor money to get them there."

"I can take them."

That feeling you've been ignoring stirs again. You push it down.

"Yeah, all right, Sebastian, and I'll quit my job tomorrow to pursue a passion in ballet."

"Bet you'd look good in a tutu."

You flush despite yourself. "No offence, but you can barely walk in a straight line, and they can't leave the house!"

"I can be sober for a few hours. And if it's only one morning it'll be fine, right? It's not good to keep them cooped up there. Your mama seemed fine."

You shake your head. "No, no, she— and my papa— they aren't well." They're not right in the head anymore. "I appreciate the offer, but—"

"That's too bad." Sebastian shrugs. "I've decided to decline you."

"You— what?"

"I'm taking them to the beach." He makes it sound like he's offering to pick up some groceries at the market. "What day works best? Tomorrow? Meant to be nice weather. You can leave Bonny in charge for a bit."

"Are you nuts? How would you even get them there?"

"If I tell you," he grins, "I'll have to..."

"God, be serious, for once in your bloody—"

He takes your hand suddenly. This is only the second time now, but again you're totally arrested, focus pinpointed on the tenderness with which he squeezes you – with grip as firm as a promise unbroken.

"I can do it."

You swallow the hope down, but it persists like a lump. Is it a trick? Have you been lured by silver words and pretty smiles? Sebastian is a master of pretence and possesses not just a dark streak – but a demonic one. What if he hurts your parents? What if he turns them into the authorities? They're vulnerable people, and they're all you have left. Yet you can't bring yourself to say no anymore. You can't bring yourself to push him away, not when it seems like he would carry the world on his shoulders for a glimpse of your smile.

To make my parents happy, you correct yourself tersely. Parents, not me. He's doing it for them. That's why you're doing this too – for them.

"All right," you concede in a whisper. "But you can't just take them. I have to go, and I need to know logistics."

"I meet you here before dawn, I'll collect your parents, and you make you way over before us. I'll even let you ride my carriage."

"You have a carriage?"

"I can get one."

"You can... get one..."

"A man can't get a carriage now?"

"Not by tomorrow."

"I know the right people."

"In the police?"

He winks. "If I tell you..."

You roll your eyes. "Okay, so let's say I manage to believe you'll conjure a carriage from thin air as you escort my parents in God-knows-what contraption. How long will it take you to get there?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll be there before you."

The retort leaps onto your tongue, but when he gives you that look, the low-lidded eyes, the flicker of mischief, daring for you to challenge him, your words promptly back down.

"Trust me?" he asks.

How? The question burns, desperate for answers. Sebastian is an elaborate puzzle made of a thousand pieces, except most of them are missing and the few you have don't fit together.

"I'll try." You take a deep breath. "They're all I have left, and I swear to God, Sebastian, if you hurt them... I will hunt you down."

Sebastian slides the correct change across the counter, then downs his drink in one go.

"Oh, bar girl," he says with a laugh, "I'll be disappointed if you don't."

"We're going to the beach today."

If you were a lantern, the way their faces light up could fuel you for a hundred years.

"Margate?" asks your father, facing his wife. "You hear that, darling? The beach in Margate. I've been wanting to go there."

"Not Margate," you explain, and you hate having to temper their expectations, "but yes, the beach, Papa."

"We'll get you ice cream, dear," says your mama.

"I'd like that," you say, smiling.

You left Bonny in charge, giving her the keys and a list of hastily-scrawled instructions about what to do and when to do it. Bonny reassured she'd leave everything spick and span, and you're forced to believe her. You haven't taken a day trip out in – well, since your parents were healthy, and the anticipation excites you as it makes your stomach churn.

At precisely five-thirty, there's a knock at the pub's door. With the carriage and horses waiting on the road as promised, Sebastian leans against the wall with a cigarette jammed in his mouth. He jabs the orange stub into the wall when you bring out a sack of your belongings.

"You smoke now?"

"Good morning to you too. If you must know, it helps relieve the withdrawal." His gaze rakes you up and down, making you blush before it hooks on your footwear. "No, no. Go put some boots on."

"What's wrong with these? They're day shoes, easy to slip on and off for the sand."

"Trust me, you'll need boots."

By the time you've changed into a battered pair, Sebastian has already introduced himself to your papa.

"In the 70s, cor, I tell you, I was a looker," he says, and Sebastian, to his credit, appears genuinely interested. "Face like mine could win anyone over, but when I saw this darling sweet girl talking up that mug at the bar, I just knew she was the one. You ain't got a bad face either, lad. You looking for a partner? My daughter is quite beautiful."

You hope Sebastian will chalk all that to the mania, but he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

"That she is, sir."

You snort. It's all a game to him, but it plucks your heartstrings nonetheless, and you clamber into the carriage without looking him in the eye.

Sebastian closes the door. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Where's the driver?"

"Don't worry about that, the horses know where to go."

Now that is absurd. "How the hell—"

"Ah ah, remember? Trust?"

You sit back in the carriage. "I said I'd try."

"Then try harder." He slaps the carriage side, which prompts the horses into motion. "Get some rest! It's a fairly long journey!"

You don't. The whole way out of the city and down the winding, country roads, you're wide awake, taking in the sight of the buildings and bustle morphing into trees and villages, and fields that roll for endless miles. The horses canter most of the way, so the sea comes into view after only a few hours, the land flat and sparse, and when the carriage stops abruptly, about half a mile out from the shore, you open the door and find the earth damp and moist beneath you, veined with a thousand rivulets of gilded blue.

"Boots," you murmur, smiling.

They squelch when you jump down into the marsh. The air is tangy with salt and sediment, but the sea wind is welcome in the heat. For a moment you shut your eyes, and all that panic and worry and dread – it simply melts away.

As vowed, Sebastian and your parents are waiting on the shore when you cross the marshland towards them. All three of them are as pristine as when you left – another oddity that you cannot explain.

Sebastian sweeps his arm out. "Welcome to Egypt Bay."

It's a small beach, if it can even be called that, settled in a crook between the sea and the mouth of the Thames. The river folds in on itself out beyond, creating a shelf of foam that constantly undulates in perfectly even ripples. The beach itself is a dearth of life, the sand wet but undisturbed, save only for a flimsy parasol Sebastian has stuck into the ground, and your parents, already padding their way towards the ocean.

"The beach!" your father yells. "Wheeee!"

"We vanished in a fireplace!" your mother cries. "Reappeared in another house!"

She must be mad, but you're too elated to care.

"I can't believe you did it," you breathe, facing him. "You actually did it."

He scoffs, hooking his thumbs into his trouser pockets. "Was there ever any doubt?"

"At least ninety per cent."

"Only ninety? Should've gone for the full one hundred. Would've made a much more satisfying reveal."

He drags out a cooling box and opens the lid – it's full of ice cream. Strawberry, vanilla, chocolate, pistachio, a few more flavours you've never tried. The ice cushioning each tub is intact. How the hell did he transport ice cream without it melting?

"Flavour preference?"

You mumble out a meagre whatever you're having, because you're too overwhelmed to do anything else, so Sebastian takes the chocolate – perfectly frozen – and scoops it into two tubs. The flavour is rich and decadent, better than anything you've had, and brings back another wave of nostalgia for times long past.

"Are you going to tell me how?" you ask, once you're finished.

There's chocolate left on the corner of his mouth. He thumbs it away, then licks it clean.

"If I tell you..."

"You'll have to kill me, I know."

"It's more like, if I tell you, I'd have to... never mind." You shove down the curiosity when he nods his head towards your parents. "They look like they're enjoying themselves."

Your parents intertwine arms and kick up the wet sand with childlike joy. You've been seeing them in monochrome this whole time – now they're in full colour, like some spark has been lit in both of their hearts. Even if it's only for today, only for this rare, precious moment, you are grateful.

"It's all they've talked about the last few months," you mumble. "It's the only thing they've really wanted to do. I care about them, but bringing them out... I've been terrified to do it."

"Because of the forgetfulness?"

"Because if anyone sees them. They're mad and they can't take care of themselves anymore, and if they get sent away... I'll have no one. Selfish, I know, but..." Your breath wracks. "They're all I have left."

There's sand in his hair and lashes, sweat that courses down his jaw, down the column of his throat, past his shirt, a slit open to the air, teasing more of his muscle and tattoos.

"That's not true," he whispers. "You have me."

In the silence, you see him watching your parents in earnest satisfaction. He's a stranger, freckled, drunk, odd, and not above using trickery and deceit against his foes. He shouldn't have to do this, he's not under any obligation. Yet he has, for no other reason than he can, and that it will make your parents happy. Seeing the delight on their faces releases a burden you didn't know you were shouldering.

Tentatively, you reach for his hand, and he responds in kind, until your fingers are knotted together.

"Thank you."

It doesn't encompass all the feelings in your chest, that iridescent gratitude you can't put into words, and how fast your heart beats and your fingers itch to touch him more. How your lips hunger for his.

It's simple, yes, but for him, you hope, it means the world.

The sun catches his face in ethereal light.

"Good day," he says, squeezing your hand.

You squeeze back.

"Yes," you say softly. "Good day."

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moralesmilesanhour · 2 years ago

Text

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 4

Summary:

wc: 1k+

A/N: um hii sorry for updating a lil late 😅 but I got really into writing this esp at the end. We're almost done! As always feel free to comment your thoughts and reactions, or send them to my inbox! Thanks for reading :)

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Song: It's Only a Paper Moon - Ella Fitzgerald (totally optional to listen while you read, if you like that sort of thing)

The small plastic bag carrying your lunch swung from your wrist as you pushed the door to the counselor’s office open.

"Thanks again for helping me organize around here," said the woman standing beside you.

"No problem, Ms. Keene!"

By the time you stepped inside, Miles was already sitting at the round table in the middle of the room.

The boy spoke first as soon as your eyes met.

"Hey," he greeted you flatly. His stare wasn't too far off from the look of curiosity you get from a stray cat that isn't certain whether you're trying to give it food or not; neither malicious nor particularly excited.

You tilted your head in surprise.

"Hey, you in trouble or something?"

Miles shook his head.

"Ms. Keene lets me have lunch in here."

"You two know each other?" The tall, dark-skinned woman asked. Though she had asked you both, she beamed at Miles as she spoke. He glanced back and forth between you and the woman.

"Kinda."

She clasped her manicured hands together.

"I'm glad you're starting to make friends again. That's progress. Enjoy your lunch," Ms. Keene said as she spun on her heel to leave, her short bob cut bouncing along with her.

"And put on those glasses!"

Miles rolled his eyes as the door shut with a click.

"Everybody's on your case about these glasses, dude. Just put 'em on," you said as you sat down next to him.

"Don't need 'em."

"Okay," you pointed to the analog clock hanging directly across from him, "tell me what time it is without using your phone."

He scoffed.

"Easy, it's…"

The boy stood, and squinted so hard that his nose scrunched. He heard you laughing through your nose behind him after a minute and soon dropped back down to his seat, hands raised in resignation.

"Alright, you got me. But who's looking at the damn clock all day?"

"Sitting in the back of the classroom with no glasses on is nuts, Miles. What's so bad about them?”

Miles pouted in indignation, "They make me look like Steve Urkel.”

“They can’t be that bad,” you said, grabbing the case from next to him and prying it open. “Lemme see.”

“Nope.”

“Just this once!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Please?”

The boy sighed, then took the glasses from you with a wary expression. He looked at them like they were a moldy piece of bread before finally putting them on.

“Happy?”

Neon green color aside, the glasses were truly not that bad. The thick lenses framed his face and made him look younger. The boy blinked, awaiting your verdict.

“Awww, you look like a little nerd!”

“Don't start with that,” Miles shook his head, a grin spreading across his face in spite of himself. He swiped them off of his face and took the case from you.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you said over a bite of your sandwich, “you look cute in them.”

He froze, a hand instinctively flying up to scratch the nape of his neck before turning his gaze in the other direction. You could still see the impression of his dimples peeking out from the side.

“Don’t get a big head over it, now,” you elbowed him gently. He quickly changed the subject.

“I’m finna tell Ms. Keene that you’re distracting me.”

Miles was now hunched over his notebook again. He had his homework sheet covering one page, but you could tell he was sketching. When you tried to look over his shoulder, he frantically shut it closed.

“Can you not be nosy for five minutes?”

“My fault, bro, damn.”

Miles continued to draw quietly for almost the entirety of calculus, never once allowing you to peek at it. He didn’t pause until you lightly tapped his arm.

The boy flinched at the sudden contact, but you had his attention.

“I’m stuck on this problem you wrote, just this one. Help me out?”

He tapped his pen lightly on the desk in consideration. Finally, he shrugged, closing the notebook and sliding it to the side.

“Sure.”

You placed the worksheet between you and Miles, where your desks met.

“It’s this one. I’m not getting the solution you got,” you explained, placing a finger on the offending equation.

Miles peered closely at it. His braids nearly brushed the desk as his head moved.

“You gettin’ it wrong because you forgot to distribute here,” he pointed. “Everything has to distribute.”

You nodded as the gears in your head got to turning again. “Thanks.”

“Ma!” Miles whined as he took his plate of yellow rice and peas from the table.

“I’m just saying! La chica es muy linda, sigues mirándola. Don’t do anything crazy up there, understand?”

You were far from fluent, but the first bit of the brown woman’s sentence made a shy smile grace your features.

“This looks so good, thanks Mrs. Morales.” you said as you grabbed your own plate, carefully carrying it with both hands.

“No problem, baby,” the woman replied, gently smacking the back of her son’s head before sending you both upstairs. ��Same time as usual.”

“Your mom’s nice,” you remarked once you entered Miles’ room.

“You just sayin’ that ‘cuz she gassed your head up,” Miles laughed.

“Whatever. I’m ‘bout to fuck this plate up!”

“Not on my bed, I hope.”

The boy gave you a warning glance.

“Relax, you see me sitting?”

You blew on a spoonful of rice before trying it, and the flavor nearly made your eyes pop out of your skull.

“Your momma went crazy in that kitchen.”

“M-hm,” was all Miles could reply as he shoveled the rice into his mouth, already halfway through the plate.

Soon both of your plates had been scraped clean, and you started working after taking the dirty dishes downstairs to wash. All three calculus problems had been completed, but a small squabble broke out over the appearance of the slideshow that Miles had put together.

“It looks so boring,” you complained. “At least make the background a different color–”

“Uh-unh, you gon’ make it hard as fuck to read. I say we keep it simple,” the boy swatted your hand away from the keyboard.

“Make the title dark magenta, and you got a deal.”

He sighed, “Fine. It’s legible, I guess.”

It was still only 7:30 by the time the project was finished, and you didn’t feel like leaving behind the warmth of Miles’ home just yet.

“Can you play some music?”

Miles spun around in his swivel chair.

“What kind?”

“I dunno, whatever you listen to,” you tilted your head at him quizzically. “What do you listen to?”

“Um,” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small Bluetooth speaker, setting it on his desk. “Just…whatever I feel like. Lots of stuff.”

He carefully laid down on his bed next to you, making sure to maintain at least a few inches of distance.

Old jazz music began to float through the air.

“You like Ella?”

“Yeah,” he said at a near-whisper. “...I do now. Forgot what this song was called.”

“‘It’s Only A Paper Moon,’” you answered. “From ‘The War Years’. Beautiful record.”

Miles snuck a glance at the side of your face while you stared up at the ceiling. He liked the dreamy, far-off way you’d said the title.

“You sound old as fuck right now,” he commented. “Record…”

This made you burst into laughter, and Miles decided that he didn’t mind that sound, either.

“My momma always calls ‘em ‘records’, so I picked up the habit.”

“I like how you talk.”

You finally turned your head and met the boy’s eyes. The small grin playing on his face wasn’t a teasing one.

“‘How I talk?’”

“When you’re not grilling me with questions like a cop? Yeah, it’s nice.”

Not sure what to do with this new information, you turn your gaze back up to the ceiling.

“You’re a strange one, Miles,” was all you could say.

There was a brief pause before you asked,“What did you mean by ‘now’?”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “What’d I say about complete sentences?”

“Sorry,” you rolled your eyes. “You said you liked this song now, you didn’t like it before?”

He was silent for a good, long, ten seconds before answering.

“I used to not be super into jazz. Dad used to play that shit on the radio, driving me to school. I hated having to hear it the entire ride,” he laughed. “I know he’s somewhere making fun of my ass now.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, wondering if you should offer comforting words, or your condolences. Knowing Miles – at least a little – you decided against it.

“I used to listen to Ella songs when the house got too loud, or while I was eating lunch.”

“They let you listen to music down there?”

“Nah, I was eating upstairs with the English teacher after she saw me sitting by myself.”

“You still sit by yourself?”

Shaking your head, you answered, “I usually sit with Tianna, she’s usually my calc partner. This week’s kind of an exception.”

“So if it wasn’t for her, I woulda finished this shit three days ago,” he joked.

You placed your hand over your heart and gasped dramatically. “You mean you don’t enjoy being graced by my presence?”

“Hm,” Miles conceded, “I enjoy it a little.”

“Is this your way of saying we besties now?”

“Whoah, never mind. You killed the moment.”

“That was a moment?”

“Nope, forget everything I just said.”

Fun trivia since we're almost at the end: what book do you think Miles and the MC are reading in English class? There's no prize for answering but i'll be really excited about it. Thanks again for reading!

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#earth 42 miles morales #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x reader #moralesanhour

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thepixelelf · 1 year ago

Text

What the Fuck is Up with Secretary Hong? Pt. 2 - I Think I Wanna

prev « masterlist » next

note: I have since updated the mlist warnings, but reader experiences something like a mix between ochlophobia (fear of crowds) and claustrophobia (fear of small/closed spaces). It's something I personally deal with to a smaller degree, and I find it hard to label as one or the other

By the time Joshua has made it inside the restaurant, which is practically hidden in the corner of an OMO hotel, his breath has all but run out. He can feel his sweat starting to absorb in his suit, and as he approaches the host desk, he curses Seungcheol under his breath.

If the host notices his dishevelled state, she doesn't show it. With a polite smile, she simply greets, "Hello."

"I'm looking for the Vipe--" Joshua heaves in a breath and reconsiders his words. Probably best not to use that malicious moniker in front of your employees, right? Damn. "I mean--"

Before he can say your name, the host gestures into the restaurant. "Right this way, sir."

She leads him inside and past more than a few tables before they approach some floor-to-ceiling windows, which show off one of the city's parks outside.

You're sitting at a table for two, one leg crossed over the other and a glass of wine in your hand. Despite no doubt hearing the the host excuse herself, you don't turn away from the window.

Shit. He knew you'd be mad.

As the host leaves, you bring the wineglass up for one more sip, then push your chair back and stand up. "You're late," you say dryly, then finally meet his eyes.

And yeah-- wow. He understands why people are intimidated by you now.

You've got this blacker than black suit on, a devastating emerald sheen to it that makes Joshua's nicest suit feel like a knock-off brand. It doesn't look like you're just wearing it; more like it's intrinsically part of your ruthless, terrifying, powerful...

Alluring.

...nature.

Joshua's shoulders keep rising and falling against his will. He's out of breath. Still.

Right, he's supposed to say something now. That's how conversations work.

You walk up to him, arms crossed as your sharp eyes assess him up and down.

"I'm so sorry," Joshua starts. "My--"

But he doesn't actually know what to say about Seungcheol's whereabouts, since even Joshua has no idea where his usually reliable boss is. Seungcheol's never gone MIA like this before, and certainly not for a meeting as important as this one, with a person as attractive as--

--as important as you, he means.

"I can explain--"

"IT'S A BEAUTIFUL NIGHT."

Joshua whips around at the loud blast of music, eyes instinctively trying to find where Bruno Mars' voice booms from.

"WE'RE LOOKING FOR SOMETHING DUMB TO DO."

He doesn't spot the speakers, but he watches in shock as people file into the seating area from all directions, and even some of the customers stand up from their tables to...

"HEY BABY, I THINK I WANNA MARRY YOU."

Oh, holy hell. "A flash mob," Joshua mutters. "In 2024?"

The once-undercover dancers surround a table in the middle of the restaurant, but there are so many of them that some twirl directly in front of Joshua.

"IS IT THE LOOK IN YOUR EYES?"

As the music blares on, Joshua recalls your assistant telling him there would be a proposal during the meeting between you and Seungcheol. He assumed it would be more... classy in a place like this, though. Did you know about this? You couldn't have, right? This isn't exactly the environment for a professional meeting.

He should probably apologize for this, too. It's as much his job as it is Kim Jiwoo's to make sure these things run smoothly.

When he turns around to say sorry again, though, you're gone.

Well. No.

Joshua looks down from where you once were, and he finds you crouched on the ground, both your hands covering your ears.

"Are you..." He kneels down in front of you, hands reaching out even though he doesn't know what he plans to do with them.

At the sound of his voice, you lift your head, and your eyes meet his once more. They're different now, though -- wider, trembling, panicked.

Mesmerizing.

A sweeping dancer's foot flies near your head. You flinch. Joshua looks around, decides enough is enough, and gently places his hand on your arm. "Let's go," he says softly, just loud enough that you can hear him over the music. They're really going to play the whole song, huh?

He leads you along the walls towards an exit, one of his hands not quite touching your back, but there to guide you, and the other still on your forearm. You say nothing, just shutting your eyes and wincing when you pass a speaker and the music is louder than ever. Once you both reach a hallway out of the restaurant though, you take over and starting walking faster in a direction Joshua doesn't recognize. Eventually, he finds himself on some sort of outdoor patio.

You lean back against a wall, exhaling and rubbing both hands on your neck.

He should say something, he thinks, but he doesn't know what.

From your pocket, you pull out a packet of gum. You unwrap one with practised efficiency and stick it in your mouth. Closing your eyes again, you chew on the gum for a few moments while Joshua watches your breathing steadily become even again.

You peek an eye open at him, drop your head and wince, then reach for another stick of gum in the packet so you can hold it out for him.

Joshua eyes the gum. "Are you okay?"

You shrug. "A little embarrassed, yes. You've seen a side of me I wasn't planning to share."

Your direct words make him feel sheepish, like he forced something from you despite having nothing to do with that flash mob. He takes the gum only because you keep holding it out, and he doesn't want to be the reason your arm gets tired.

You smile when he unwraps his gum, and he fumbles with it a little at the sight. It's the first time he's seen a smile on you, and he wonders if all the people who say you're cold and ruthless and a knife or whatever have seen it before. Maybe you keep it to yourself because it's just too beautiful.

"Embarrassing moment aside, I apologize for the interruption. I wasn't aware that would be occurring."

Joshua nods, unsure why you're bothering to apologize so sincerely to him when he's just the secretary. "It's alright."

You hold out your hand again, empty this time, for a handshake. "You must be Choi Seungcheol. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"No," Joshua says immediately, about to correct you until his own tongue seems to freeze. He meets your eyes, and they're different again. Not the cold, high-ranking person of power look from those first moments, not the panicked, wide eyes from your bout of fear, but eyes with a playful, open shine to them. Eyes that are a little shy, but not afraid to be here after showing vulnerability. And before his brain can catch up, he's taking your hand in his own. "No, uh... The pleasure is all mine."

Alarms start blaring in the back of his mind, a siren that sounds an awful lot like STUPID, IDIOT, WHAT ARE YOU THINKING, but he ignores it entirely for multiple reasons. One being that your smile widens, and he likes looking at it.

"Unfortunately I'll have to cut this short today," you tell him, pulling your hand out of his reluctant grasp and nodding towards the direction of the restaurant. Joshua can still hear the faint musings of Bruno Mars. "I have a bit of a situation to deal with. Perhaps we can reschedule? I'm eager to hear what Geomsoft has to offer."

"Of course... Maybe I should just get your number?"

You start heading for the door. "I'll have my assistant send it to you."

"Oh, um--" Panicking, Joshua reaches for your arm, and he succeeds in stopping you, but he lets go when you eye his hand and let out an awkward little laugh. "Tell her to contact my secretary."

"Mr Hong?" you ask. He hopes you don't see how his name coming from your lips affects him.

He keeps his voice as steady as possible to say, "Yes."

"Okay." You put your hand on the door handle, taking one last look at him. "I will see you soon, Choi."

As the door falls shut behind you, Joshua can only think one thing.

What the hell did he just do?

the taglist is reserved for people who reblog and comment! please let me know if you'd like to be taken off the list 💕 @kwanisms @wooahaeproductions @sarcasticsweetlara @minnieminshi @stayinhellevator @minhui896 @hey-blondie @k-pop-ology @xmessaroundx @readforavv @gyuminusone @completely-zoned-out @redblossom @bobrouxsky @doljjongsmom @nonononranghaee @ayumiettulipes @hellohannie @valenhui @jnwnnan @kyoutos-kisses @bultaereume @svtficsreader @asparacoups @thewooziverse @scarletsaturn @booskies @justrashfan @teenyfinds @ihrtboo @lalalalalalani @dinonuguaegi @imaginegot7bangtan @hiraethmae

#joshua hong smau #seventeen smau #seventeen social media au #svt smau #svt social media au #hong jisoo smau #joshua hong social media au #hong jisoo social media au #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #joshua hong x reader #hong jisoo x reader #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt x reader

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gremlin-girly · 5 months ago

Text

Day 28: Cold Turkey

Pairing: Dean x Reader (established relationship)

Fandom: Supernatural

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, petnames (baby)

Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied or reposted or put through an AI machine.

Summary: Dean eats all the cold turkey...

Word count: 470

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

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"DEAN!"

Your screech permeates every wall of the bunker. Even the birds close by scattered as they felt the shift from peace to utter rage under the concrete.

Sam, though gigantic he was, shrunk into himself when you burst out of the kitchen with a face like a storm.

"Hey-" he tried weakly but was but off by your growl;

"Where is he?"

Sam eyed the direction of Dean's room and you stomped off without another word. Sam sighed looking back at his laptop. He'd warned Dean to avoid the leftovers you'd decorated with warnings and post-its, he wasn't about to protect him from something he could have easily prevented.

You don't even knock at Dean's door, you angrily shove it open and let it smack against the wall making him startle. You stand in the doorway, heaving breaths of fury.

"You."

Dean peeks at you sheepishly, mid-way through putting a sliver of cold turkey into his mouth.

"Y/N -heyyy." He says nervously as you approach, scowling at him.

"That turkey was for the pie." You try to remain calm and your fists clench at your sides as Dean's eyes brighten at the thought of pie.

"Pie?"

"Yeah, pie. But now you've eaten the turkey." You breathe out slowly, releasing your fists to cup your cheeks. "So now there's no pie."

"'M sorry baby." Dean croons sweetly, giving you a pouty expression. "The turkey was just too good."

Your frown deepens and Dean starts to back peddle when his boyish charm isn't working as usual.

"I can fix it." He declares getting to his feet and standing before you. "I'll go on a shopping run and get you more."

"I'm not cooking a whole other turkey." You grit out and Dean runs his hands reassuringly over your forearms.

"What if I cook it, huh? Just tell me what to do and you can sit back and relax."

There's that boyish smile again. You can feel your anger dissipate and your grasping at it helplessly to try and remain huffy with Dean but you're struggling. The thought of seeing Dean in the kitchen, bossing him around like he does to you on hunts.... it's an opportunity you can't miss.

Sighing, you concede. "Fine."

Dean beams at you. "Just one last thing before I go - to make you feel better."

His lips are against yours before you can speak. When you break, you're holding onto his arms and giggling because he tastes like turkey.

"Forgiven." You chuckle, every shred of anger finally gone. "Now, get going before I change my mind."

Dean grins as he grabs his jacket and slips on his boots, heading out of his room and flashing Sam a teasing wink as he heads up the steps of the bunker with a jingle of his keys in hand.

#gremlin girly #gremlin girly writes #fluff #dean fanfiction #dean supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you

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l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 4 months ago

Note

(prev. Anon here). While I cannot say i completely understand your experience (my dads mixed Asian (Indonesian, Java island and another island but my dad doesn't remember which and the family doesn't really talk about th Indonesian heritage) and I inherited curly hair, also the nose and the eyes, I love looking like my grandpa), hair is a lot more then just hair.

Before I got ill I had more like 3c and some strands 4a (now I know how to take care of it so it's getting back to that!!), an old friend literally thought I was a homeless person. And when i got mad my teacher said; 'hair is just hair dont get worked up'

Anyways, I'm basically saying comments about hair just being hair just suck.

(I'm not English so sorry for me rambling, English isn't a very direct language to me so I find it difficult to be direct in English, I'm working on it, I promise!!!)

I know, right? Your English is just fine, pookie! I hate that people with curls and curlier hair have to just deal with those statements because it's not just hair. Like I said, it's culture and community. I literally had one teacher call me exotic for my curls, and I had people say, "It's just curls; you can wash it." When wash day is a war for me, even if you're not Black, I feel like anyone with hair just like mine can relate, no matter what.

#x black reader #batfamily x neglected reader #yandere batboys #weird!reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #black!reader #x neglected reader #black male reader #black fem reader #black nonbinary

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 1 year ago

Text

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 6

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Cara (child OFC), Sinker, Comet, Boost

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

Author's Note: Sorry about no fic last week. I had surgery on Friday and didn't get a chance to post the fic I wanted to post, so to stay on schedule, I'm forgoing that fic for another update of this one! Yay! This part is going to be tough, but it was absolutely necessary for Cara and Wolffe to have this moment together just as much as the bath time moment. Let's just say, breakfast doesn't go as planned. (oops it got longer) As always, please enjoy 💚

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Series Masterlist

After bath time was done, and they'd both dried off and changed into new clothes, it was time for breakfast. Wolffe really hoped his Pack brothers came through and made a decent breakfast for all of them. He was starving, and he knew Cara must be hungry too. He was a little worried since he didn't give Boost any directions, but there was foodstuff in the conservator, he thought, or, well, he hoped. Knowing his wife, she would've stocked up when she found out he was coming home.

Wolffe walked into the kitchen with Cara following closely behind, but stopped in his tracks at what he saw. Cara didn't stop walking and bumped into the back of his leg with a small oomph. Feeling the light hit, Wolffe reached back around with his hand to rub her head, still staring dumbstruck at the state of the kitchen.

"What in the…" Wolffe said with wide eyes. It was a mess. A complete and utter mess. He wasn't even sure it was still a kitchen. "I said make breakfast, not fight breakfast!"

"We did!" Boost grinned. He had flour patches across his face and streaks down his clothes.

"Sweetie," Wolffe said as he looked down at Cara. "Do you know what that is?" He pointed at Boost.

Cara shook her head.

"I'm gonna teach you a new word," Wolffe smiled. "That is a di'kut."

"Dee… koot," she repeated.

"Hey!" Boost exclaimed, clearly offended by the remark.

Wolffe snorted. "You're the one who said it's never too late to start."

Boost opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it because Wolffe was right.

"Anyway," Comet chimed in and gestured towards the table. "Breakfast is served!"

Wolffe sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, and walked Cara over to the table to eat whatever breakfast his Pack brothers created. She climbed up onto her chair next to him and he made sure she was seated properly so she wouldn't fall off. Sinker then walked around the table and placed the plates down with their homemade pancakes stacked on them. Wolffe eyed the oddly shaped and multi-colored pancakes suspiciously and raised an eyebrow up at his brother.

"What?" Sinker asked.

"Is it edible?" Wolffe asked.

"I made them," Comet added. "So, yeah, they're edible."

Wolffe snorted. Of course Boost and Sinker couldn't be left alone to make breakfast. It was a good thing they picked up Comet when they did or they'd all have starved by now.

Cara tugged on Wolffe's pants and he lowered his head so he could hear her.

"Where's mommy?" she asked.

The room went silent and Wolffe sighed. Not this again. "She's not here, sweetie," he answered, then pulled her plate a little closer to the edge of the table. "Now, eat your breakfast for me."

"We can't eat without mommy," Cara said, then pushed the plate back.

Wolffe bit back his frustration and pulled the plate towards her again. "You have to eat."

"Not without mommy!" she yelled and pushed the plate with more force, knocking the fork onto the floor.

"Cara," Wolffe warned, his patience wearing thin. "This isn't a debate."

"I don't want it!" she screamed.

Cara climbed down from her chair, sat on the floor, and cried loudly. She was in a full-blown tantrum and Wolffe didn't know what to do. He looked over at Comet, Boost, and Sinker with pleading eyes, but the three of them only shrugged. Her screaming became louder and pierced Wolffe straight through the head, making it throb and ache like earlier. Somehow she'd reached a frequency that made him want to scream too. He tried to keep himself under control and calm her down.

"Sweetie," Wolffe said as he rubbed his temples. "I need you to stop screaming, please."

She continued to wail from her seat on the floor, tears streaming down her face as her cheeks turned red. Wolffe could feel the tension in his head rising as it threatened to boil over and explode. Why couldn't she just stop crying? Why couldn't she just understand? Why did he have to keep explaining it to her? He tried to think of his best options, but her incessant screaming was grating on his nerves and clouding his thoughts. If she didn't quiet down soon, the neighbors were going to think he was hurting her.

"Cara!" Wolffe barked, picking his hands up from the table to try and settle himself. "I said stop!"

Cara looked at Wolffe and stopped crying, and, for a moment, Wolffe thought it was finally over.

"I want mommy!" she started screaming again. "I want mommy! I want mommy! I want mommy!"

The tension snapped like a taut wire and Wolffe's chair scraped across the floor as he violently pushed it back. He took a few steps towards Cara, dropped to his knees, and grabbed her little shoulders so she was looking him in the eyes. "She's not coming back!" he yelled. "Do you understand me? She's never coming back! She's dead! She's gone! So, just stop asking for her already!"

Wolffe panted at the exertion and hung his head between his arms, the anger and frustration slowly dissipating. The words he spoke so ferociously, not only to his daughter but also to himself, echoed in his mind. He picked his head up and looked at his wide-eyed daughter, instantly feeling a shooting pain straight through his heart. She looked confused. She looked helpless. She looked scared. She looked scared… of him. Remorse washed over him like a tidal wave and the panic of what he just did flooded his brain.

"Oh, kriff," Wolffe breathed as he released his grip on her tiny shoulders. Cara backed away from him until she bumped into Comet's leg. Wolffe's breath hitched. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Baby–" Wolffe reached out his hand, but Cara turned away from him and grabbed onto Comet's leg.

Comet looked down at Wolffe with a pained expression, then at Cara, and sighed. "Come here, ad'ika," he soothed. "I've got you." He picked Cara up into his arms and she grabbed onto his shirt, hanging on with tight little fists while burying her face in his chest. He readjusted her on his hip, then locked eyes with Wolffe in a silent word. Wolffe hung his head and Comet left the room with Cara.

Once Cara was out of the kitchen, Wolffe pounded his fists onto the floor and yelled in frustration.

Sinker knelt beside him and placed his hand on Wolffe's shoulder.

"What have I done?" Wolffe choked. He wanted to vomit. "I grabbed her. I yelled at her. I've never– I wouldn't– How could I do that?"

Sinker looked up at Boost and gestured for him to go do something else for the moment. Boost nodded and left the kitchen.

"Maker forgive me," Wolffe's voice quivered. "She's just a child, and I… I treated her like a cadet. Like a kriffing shiny!"

"Wolffe–"

"No!" Wolffe yelled and smacked Sinker's hand away. "There's no excuse."

Sinker sighed and sat back on his haunches. "Give yourself a break, will ya? Your wife's dead."

Wolffe flinched at the bluntness of the comment, but maybe that was what he needed right now.

"Maker, Wolffe," Sinker continued. "It's only been what? Twelve standard hours? And in that time you've lost your wife, your home, your belongings, and you almost lost Cara too. You really thought you could get through this without losing your temper a little?"

"I'm a commander–"

"Kriff being a commander," Sinker rolled his eyes. He moved around the floor to face Wolffe. "You're still human, commander or not, and Cara doesn't need Commander Wolffe right now, she just needs her dad. You know, the one who loves her?"

"But I scared her…" Wolffe lamented, the words burning in the back of his throat. "She was scared of me."

"She'll be fine," Sinker said with a wave of his hand. "Just apologize and move on. She's a tough kid. Tougher than you might think." Sinker smirked. "You are her dad after all."

A small smile formed at the corner of Wolffe's mouth. Sinker was right about one thing. She was the daughter of a clone commander, not just some random natborn off the streets. His genetics, and his wife's, ran through her veins. She was sensitive like her mother, but she got his resilience and also his attitude. Plo's words from the night before still rang true. He needed to take each moment as it came and do what was needed then, even if that meant messing it up once and a while. She'd forgive him one day.

Wolffe took a deep breath to compose himself before Sinker offered a hand to help him up. He accepted it without complaint. Looking back at the table of untouched food, now getting cold, another sigh escaped his lips. Cara still hadn't eaten and he wasn't sure if they had any more time for delays since they had to leave soon. He decided to pack some of the pancakes in a container and hoped that Cara would eat them like that. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing.

After putting the food away, Wolffe took another deep breath, then released it slowly before walking out of the kitchen and towards the living room. He stepped to the threshold, and just as he thought, Comet was sitting on the couch with Cara sitting calmly on his lap. He never understood how Comet got so good with kids, but he was thankful. With slow and soft steps, Wolffe approached them. He sat down on the ground and fiddled with a piece of the carpet while he got up the nerve to speak.

"Cara," Wolffe said softly.

Cara lifted her head from resting against Comet's chest to look at Wolffe.

"I'm sorry I got upset and yelled at you," he said. "It was wrong."

"It's okay…" she mumbled into Comet's shirt.

"No, baby, it's not," he continued. "I know… I know this is scary. Daddy is scared too, but that doesn't make it okay for either of us to get upset at each other." He paused, gauging her expression and understanding of what he was saying. "So, how about less screaming and more listening, for both of us?"

"Okay," she said. "I'm sorry, daddy."

Wolffe smiled weakly and released another shaky breath. He opened his arms. "Can I have a hug?"

Cara nodded and squirmed out of Comet's arms and into Wolffe's. He held her tight against him, careful not to hurt her, and kissed the side of her head. He started rocking her and looked up at Comet, who had a warm smile on his face. Wolffe mouthed a simple thank you to him and Comet nodded. Wolffe didn't know what he would do without his Pack brothers, and it pained his heart that it took a tragedy such as this for him to realize just how much they meant to him.

"Daddy?" Cara mumbled into his chest.

Wolffe leaned her back so he could see her face. "Yes, baby?'

"Is mommy ever gonna come home?" she asked.

Wolffe bit his tongue. "No baby, she's not."

"I'm gonna miss mommy," she sniffled and her eyes turned watery.

Wolffe leaned his forehead against Cara's and let his own emotions show. "Me too, baby. Me too."

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badasgirlfriend · 2 years ago

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Stolen Hoodie | Bada Lee Social Media AU

T/W: this chapter contains themes of abuse and violence, so if you are uncomfortable with these topics, please don't read it.

pairings: bada lee x shin nari

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a/n: sorry for the short chapter my uni isn't letting me breath😩

taglist { @itstrashjustrash , @maiden-mars , @tikitsune , @yumtooki , @jesuschrist2006 , @senjuslashes , @sparksinsirius , @asweetcollide , @italiekim , @stella222 , @mikachacha , @deadgirlwalking3 , @yunjinified , @itsbokutosjuicyass , @kaaylvst , @manooffline , @aloneinacity , @rubywonu , @pansies-garden , @tswisal1 }

With a deep exhale, Bada found herself staring in the direction of her girlfriend, who was seated opposite her at the table. Nari was deeply focused on the task in front of her, wearing headphones to block out the world.

Bada felt her heart skip a beat. This girl - this amazing girl - was her girlfriend. And yet, it still felt unreal. Though they hadn't discussed it, or necessarily asked each other out, they both knew they were a couple. Their relationship had already been very partner-like, even before any labels came into play.

She carefully stepped into the classroom, trying her best to make as little noise as possible. When she was close to Nari, she suddenly leaned in and touched her lips to Nari's cheek.

As Nari's eyes widened at the feeling of hands on her shoulder, she quickly turned around, only to be face-to-face with the girl she liked. Her expression changed rapidly from fear to relief, her eyes softening.

She was here, at university, not home.

It was safe here. No one would hurt her.

She took a deep breath, and her expression began to change as reality set in and the tension drained from her body.

Seeing Nari's expression, Bada's smile faltered, but she quickly regained her poise and said cheerfully, "It's just me, don't worry."

"Yeah, sorry," Nari said sheepishly, smiling at Bada. "I'm just...not used to people sneaking up on me."

Bada nodded and turned to face Nari, her concern rising as she noticed the bruise starting to form around her wrist.

"Nari, I've told you so many times, you can come to my apartment," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "You can always come and live with me we can share-"

Nari shook her head, avoiding Bada's gaze. "No, it's alright," she insisted, but her words lacked confidence.

"It's not alright at all," Bada repeated firmly, "Nari, I'm worried about you."

Bada felt her frustration growing with each passing moment. She understood the difficult situation that Nari was going through at home, and it was awful.

However, her attempts to help were being rejected by Nari's hesitance to open up. Trying her best to remain calm, Bada found her patience slowly wearing thin.

Her desire to help her girlfriend was overwhelming, and she hoped and prayed that Nari would eventually come to her and share her troubles - at least then, Bada would be able to offer some much needed comfort.

"Leave it, Bada," Nari said, turning briefly from her work to look at Bada with irritation, her tone dismissive and adamant.

But Bada simply would not be deterred.

"I'm not leaving it," she said stubbornly. "Nari, you need help."

With her eyes pleadingly fixed on Bada, Nari begged desperately.

"Please, I can't leave Hana alone."

But Bada wouldn't have any of it. She took Nari's hands, holding them gently.

"You can take her too," Bada said, her tone full of genuine concern. "I don't care. We can figure it out. But you can't stay there by yourself."

Nari let out a breath of admiration as she took in her girlfriend's charming appearance. With her large glasses adding to the overall loveliness, her style was casual but cute as she wore an oversized T-shirt. She wanted desperately to accept Bada's offer, but to her, leaving Hana behind would be unthinkable.

She'd rather die than allow her little sister to suffer at the hands of that asshole.

"Im fine Bada really" She was really grateful for Bada's support, but her struggle was one that Nari felt she must fight alone.

Bada sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and nodding in understanding. She well knew Nari's stubbornness, and wouldn't push her too hard about the situation. She knew that Nari didn't like being pressured, and this time she let it go.

But sooner or later, they'd have to have the talk again, and Bada wouldn't give up so easily this time.

Bada's gaze fell on Nari's desk, her eyes glancing over the empty Red Bull cans and coffee cups strewn across the surface.

Taking her bag, she took out two sandwiches and set them down in front of Nari with a soft shrug.

"Don't even try," she said with a firm smile, "You need to eat. And I'm not taking no for an answer."

Nari's words prompted a small smile on Bada's face.

"You sound like my grandma, but I'm not hungry," she replied with a playful tilt of her head. "I have work."

Bada's glare was unmistakable, and she huffed, "You know our project isn't due for months, you don't need to overwork yourself."

"Okay, and?" Nari shrugged, remaining persistent even when Bada rolled her eyes.

"Making the designs and sewing takes way too long, and I want it to be perfect."

Bada let out a soft groan in response, shaking her head gently. This girl will never learn, she thought, amused. She leaned in and grabbed her ruler making the shorter girl whine

"Bada no give it to me" Nari tried to grab it but it was a fail, Bada smirked at her attempts

"Eat first"

"I'm not hungry, I swear" Nari objected, though with little conviction.

Bada wasn't buying it, and continued to press the issue, "I know you haven't had a proper meal all day...."

Bada wasn't buying it, and continued to press the issue.

"I know you haven't had a proper meal all day," she repeated with firmness, but Nari hadn't been listening. Instead, her eyes were drawn down to Bada's beautiful face, then slowly to her lips.

Nari leaned in, ready to give her girlfriend a quick kiss in the hopes that it would silence her for a while.

But as she leaned back to break away from the kiss, Bada refused, she grabbed her chin, pulling Nari back in for another tender moment, their lips meeting once again in a flurry of passion.

Nari felt her heart racing as her body tingled with heat as Bada's soft, passionate lips pressed firmly against her own.

She held her girlfriend's face, her hands tenderly caressing her cheeks, as Bada leaned forward and pressed her back against the wall.

In this moment, with her head spinning from the thrill of their kiss and their bodies together, she could think of nothing else but her

Nari bit her lip and Bada groaned, closing her eyes as they pulled apart yet remained close to each other.

"Stop distracting me," Bada said with a gentle frown. "Your amazing kiss doesn't negate the fact that you still need to eat."

"Damn it," Nari groaned, "I was so hoping it would make you forget, but I knew that was a long shot."

Bada chuckled softly as she ruffled the shorter girl's hair.

"I'll need more kisses for tha-"

Nari cut Bada off with another tender kiss, her lips pressing softly to the other girl's face and keeping her from continuing her sentence.

A mischievous grin spread across Bada's lips, and she couldn't help teasing her girlfriend further by pulling back and then leaning in and drawing Nari into another kiss.

The cycle repeated itself several times, with Bada teasing and Nari responding with a kiss, their lips connecting again and again, their embrace growing more intense and passionate with each passing moment.

After much pleading from Bada, Nari finally relented and ate, allowing their meal to be enjoyed in peace.

As the duo began eating and talking with laughter filling the air, Aeri watched from outside class smirking. With her phone cradled in her hands, she began walking away, her smirk

In her mind, Nari reflected that half of her day had gone well so far, especially due to Bada's presence.

Yet, as is often the case, her joy was tempered as the moment turned sour in an instant when she heard a loud crash as soon as she stepped into her house.

Racing to the living room, her vision grew red as the sight of her sister sobbing filled her with anguish, her emotions taking control and causing her heart to hurt from her younger sibling's pain.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Nari asked with genuine fury, moving towards her broken sister and ignoring any potential damage from the broken plate on the floor.

"She's a useless child!" her father yelled with a slurred voice "I asked her to make me food and all she fucking brought me was a piece of bread"

"She's only six, you bastard," Nari yelled back, her words punctuated by her father's drunken slurring.

"She's not even old enough to properly take care of herself, let alone make you a full meal."

"Don't you raise your voice at me, you little bitch," her father said forcefully, pointing his finger at Nari.

Nari knew that her words might anger the man before her, and the possibility of repercussions crossed her mind.

Yet, she found herself unable to care, and she stood her ground, her expression firm

"Go to your room," Nari whispered to her sister, attempting to comfort the young girl as she was still sobbing.

Hana shook her head, firmly refusing to comply with her sister's request.

"Hana, I said go."

Nari looked at her little sister, gently pushing her away and away "Please"

She knew that things would only get worse, so she didn't want Hana to see the ugliness of the situation.

Hana's eyes were filled with knowledge beyond her years, even as she was still so young.

Her heart was broken at the thought of leaving Nari all alone to face her father's wrath, but she knew that she had to go.

Without another word, her footsteps echoed off the stairs as she raced away, rushing into the sanctuary of her room.

Hana closed her door and buried her face in her pillow, her heart in knots as she tried to muffle the sound of her soft, frightened tears, as she listened to her fathers yells

"You'll never lay a hand on her ever again," Nari yelled, her anger taking over and making her voice boom like thunder.

"Im her father"

"I don't care" Nari continued, shaking her head

"I don't care," Nari said, trying her best to hold back her tears "A good father cares for and protects their children, he doesn't hurt and punish them"

She knew she shouldn't show her vulnerability in front of him, and she tried to stand strong while speaking her mind even as her emotions bubbled to the surface.

Her father paced around the room in agitation, his anger causing him to throw an empty beer can at the wall.

Nari flinched, her heart pounding at her father's anger

"You're a coward," Nari repeated, her words cutting into her father's pride in a way that nothing else could have.

She felt his hand sting her face the sensation of that slap was not new to her, as if her whole life had been leading up to that moment, but she continued to stand her ground and refused to cry

"No food for you and that little monster for a week," her father said, grabbing her face tightly.

Nari closed her eyes and braced herself for another slap, but it never came.

Instead, her father released his grip on her face, grabbing her bag and searching through it for money

Upon finding it, her father extracted her hard-earned funds from her wallet and threw her wallet back at her face

When she heard the front door close, Nari broke down, as tears spilled over her cheeks.

The weight of the world had seemed to be resting on her shoulders, and now that she was alone, she allowed herself to feel the full force of all the pain and sadness she had tried so hard to suppress.

#talking with eli #stolen hoodie smau #bada lee #bada lee edit #bada lee imagine #bada lee fanfic #bada lee x reader #bada lee x oc #gxg #swf #bada lee fanfiction #lee bada x reader #bada lee imagines #bada #bada x reader #lee bada

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dfortrafalgar · 1 year ago

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I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men

Chapter 22

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[RING RING]

[Hi! Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave a message after the beep, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!]

[BEEP]

Law took a deep breath before speaking. “Hi, baby, I just wanted to check in. I know it’s really early there and you’re probably still sleeping, but good luck on your procedure today. I… really wish I could be there. I miss you a lot, I’m excited to come home in a few days. Call me back when you get the chance, just so that I know you’re okay. I love you.”

The solemn man tapped on the red disconnect button on his phone’s screen, hanging up on your voicemail box. Beside him, Dr. Tony took a long sip of his beer, anxiously eyeing the expression of his superior. Across the table from Law sat another older doctor from an institution a few cities away, one who had been a big fan of Law’s dissertation from medical school and insisted he treat the cardiac surgeon and his colleagues to a drink. As soon as they began actually drinking, though, it became clear to Law that the large, scruffy looking doctor treating him to booze was a bit harder to deal with than he initially thought. The more he drank, the more he ran his mouth.

“Aw, come on, man! You’ve been so uptight this whole week, I thought someone like you would be more than excited to attend this event and go drinking with some colleagues,” the man chided, his cheeks slightly flushed from his alcohol intake.

Law tossed a frustrated look at the man across from him, but it clearly didn’t land in the way he intended. “Just a bit tired, I suppose.”

“Tired of calling your wife?” the man sneered. “A man deserves to get away from the ole’ ball and chain every once in a while. You might as well enjoy your freedom while you’re out of the country.”

Law’s jaw involuntarily clenched. A million words of retaliation swirled through his head, but he didn’t have the gall to speak. The last thing he wanted to do was make a scene, surrounded by esteemed colleagues who were all looking forward to a night out drinking after a successful conference day. The black-haired man simply crossed his arms and uncomfortably eyed the barely-touched beer in front of him.

“That woman of your’s is probably sick of you calling her all the time, anyway. Is she making you do that?” he asked.

Chopper reached a hand out, nervously trying to stop the man across from them from talking. “Dr. Teach, let’s be civil, now.”

Another swig of beer slipped past the larger man’s chapped lips. He slammed down his glass with another snide remark. “Can’t be civil when you’ve got a man being held back by some woman at home. You can’t let her control you like that, you’ve got to be a man.”

Law’s fists clenched the fabric of his shirt as he felt his face heating up with humiliation. “I’m going to ask you one time to be quiet.”

The man, Dr. Marshall Teach, curled his lips in a sneer. “Aw, you getting defensive?”

“If you wanted to treat myself and my colleague to a round of drinks, I would appreciate it if you could keep your unnecessary comments to a minimum,” Law affirmed. He was inwardly impressed with how he managed to keep his voice so steady despite the rapid pounding of his heart. He felt his hands grow clammy with discomfort.

Teach shrugged. “Sorry that you’ve found yourself prey to a bitc–”

Law stood up with such ferocity that the sound of his chair scooting across the hard wooden floor alerted the tables around him, surprised and curious eyes darting in his direction. With a scowl, he grabbed his bag, stepping around the table to make a quick exit. Before he passed by Teach, however, he stopped dead in his tracks and leered down at the man. “Don’t expect any more cordial behavior from me this week. I never want to hear from you again.”

Before the rude older man was able to retort and get the last word, Law finally stepped away from the table and left the restaurant. His legs were shaking as he rounded the corner of the building and stepped into a dimly lit alleyway, the setting sun casting a large shadow over the structure and making the corridor appear darker than the rest of the world. A perfect shroud for Law to sink into a crouching position against the brick wall, his bag at his feet as he wrapped his hands around his knees.

Pathetic.

Law felt his stomach twist uncomfortably, his hands growing even more clammy as he fought with his heart rate to get it to settle. His mind was reeling with thoughts, insecurities. He felt like he was going to be sick. How was a man as esteemed as him having a panic attack in a back alley behind a bar?

“Law?” a soft voice called from around the corner.

The black-haired man picked his head up in surprise, facing the voice. A head of thick, bushy brown hair and gentle, black, doe-like eyes greeted him.

“Chopper… need something?” he asked, keeping his voice low to prevent it from trembling.

The younger doctor stepped closer, copying Law’s posture by crouching down himself so he could be at the same level as his superior. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay… do you want to head back to the hotel?”

“Is anyone else going?” Law asked, mild skepticism in his eyes.

“Nope, just me,” the brunette man responded. “I barely had anything to drink, anyway. Bars aren’t really my scene.”

Law slowly stood up along with his younger colleague, grabbing his bag from the cold ground and following Chopper out of the alley, rounding the corner and proceeding down the street. The two walked in silence for around 20 minutes before they finally reached their hotel, a very fine establishment that was selected by their employers for their week-long stay in the Flower Capital. The place was far more lavish than anything Law had stayed in before, but frankly, the expensive decor and fancy lights were nothing if not unsettling for him in his upset state. He followed Chopper into the elevator, the two ascending in silence to the 10th floor, watching as the numbers on the control panel slowly ticked upward. Their walk through the hall was so silent you could hear their footsteps slightly echoing off of the plaster walls around them. Chopper inserted his keycard into their room’s door, pushing the heavy entrance open and stepping inside, Law on his heels.

Once they were safely in their room, Law released the frustrated groan he had been holding in. He quickly undid the buttons of his dress shirt, ripping it off of him and falling backwards onto the bed that he designated as his. Chopper watched with concern on his soft features, sitting on his own mattress.

“I’m sorry about what Teach said to you,” the younger man said.

“Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault,” Law mumbled back, staring at the ceiling. The air of their hotel room was quite chilly and made goosebumps appear on his inked skin, but it was far better than his anxious perspiration that was going on under the stifling fabric of his dress shirt.

“I know it wasn’t, but I’m still sorry,” Chopper responded, awkwardly hugging his knees. “I think it’s sweet that you’re calling your wife so often. I’m sure she really appreciates it.”

Law bit the inside of his cheek. He had kept your infertility struggles a secret from the rest of his colleagues at the hospital, choosing instead to say that he was taking care of you through an acute illness whenever he used his personal time off. No one had ever questioned it, perhaps being too afraid to provoke the steely, constantly-focused doctor, but whatever the reason, Law was relieved that he never had to explain himself. His current behavior was far beyond the realm of what Chopper had ever seen of him, drastically out of character from the hard-working doctor the younger man was surely used to.

“Chopper, can I tell you something?” Law asked, feeling immensely awkward for divulging his problems to a colleague who seemed so much younger than him.

“Of course,” Chopper replied.

Law sat up on his elbows, gazing at his feet at the end of the bed. “My wife has been struggling with infertility. We’ve been trying for well over a year now to have a baby, with no success yet. She’s had two miscarriages, the second one at 12 weeks.” His voice was quiet as he spoke, clearly upset with reliving the memory of seeing you tied to the hospital bed in the emergency room, the way your face was scrunched up with agony, humiliation, and shame.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” the younger man sympathized.

Law took a deep breath. “She’s been undergoing treatment to prepare for IVF, and today, back home anyway, is the day she gets her eggs harvested. I’ve been so, so fucking nervous for her. Excuse my language.”

“So that’s why you’ve been calling and texting her a bunch?” Chopper asked, slightly tilting his head as he listened to his older colleague.

“Yeah. And unlike that prick Teach, I like to think I have a much healthier relationship with her.” Law scoffed, relaying the words the older man had spoken to him over their drinks. “Ball and chain, my ass. The day I refer to my wife like that is the day I die by my own hand.”

Chopper sighed, wanting to apologize yet again for the older doctor’s behavior, but deciding against it. Law’s words sparked a hint of curiosity in the younger man, however, as he gazed at the ink covering his coworker’s hands, arms, chest, and back. “Law, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Not at all,” the black-haired surgeon responded.

“It always struck me as interesting that you have the word ‘DEATH’ tattooed on your fingers. Have you ever been… told off for that?”

Chopper’s words prompted Law to gaze at the ink on his skin. He huffed through his nose at the memory, his friends as an 18-year-old undergraduate adamantly insisting that he shouldn’t get morbid tattoos if he was going to pursue a career in life-saving medical care, but clearly their words didn’t stick.

“All the time,” he replied. “I got my tattoos done over the course of a few years while I was an undergrad. I was going through a lot at that time, and funneled my frustrations into getting ink.”

“Is there a reason you chose ‘DEATH’?” Chopper had absolutely zero idea if he was crossing the line or not, but based on Law’s somewhat relaxed body language, he safely assumed that he was still in the clear with his questions.

Law pursed his lips. “I lost my family in a house fire when I was around 10, and the man who took me in and raised me was killed by his older brother when I was 13, so for the duration of my teenage years, death was all I thought about.”

Chopper’s eyebrows creased with melancholy. “I’m so sorry…”

Law relaxed his arms and fell back onto his mattress once more. “I kept going for my parents, they were both doctors and I grew up wanting to follow in their footsteps. And for most of my time in high school and then in college, I was convinced I was too hardened to be loved.”

The younger brunette felt a small smile tug on his lips. “But then you met your wife.”

The words made the black-haired man grin. “Yup… then I met my wife. But I already had the tattoos when I met her, so it was a bit too late for that.”

“I’m sorry you can’t be home with her… but I’m sure she really does appreciate the fact that you’re constantly checking in on her. If my husband was halfway across the world, I’d want to hear from him as often as I could, too,” Chopper stated, his voice light and airy.

Law stared at the ceiling. Chopper was the kind of kid whose presence made you relax. His openness and understanding of complex topics and issues was a quality that made Law gravitate towards taking him under his wing, endlessly impressed with the ease in which the boy sympathized and offered boundless support for patients, colleagues, and family who visited the hospital. Even the most upset patients were treated with the utmost respect from the young doctor, his very existence making any tension or unease flow from the body in waves.

“Thanks, Chopper, I appreciate it,” Law stated. “Sorry to spill all that on you.”

“It’s never a problem, Law, I’m always happy to talk about stuff that might be troubling you. As a friend, rather than strictly a coworker.” Chopper swung his legs off the side of his bed. “I’m going to take a shower, try to get some shut-eye, alright?” The younger colleague tossed a friendly smile to Law, who nodded graciously.

The bathroom door closed with a soft click, leaving Law alone on his bed in the warm light of the bedside lamp. He reached toward his phone intent on checking his text messages, but as soon as he picked it up in his hand, the screen lit up with an incoming call.

Wifey

A grin tugged on Law’s lips. “Hello?”

[Hi, baby! I’m sorry I missed your call…] Your voice was groggy with sleep, and some shuffling could be heard in the background. You must have still been in bed.

“It’s alright, you were sleeping,” Law replied, his voice soft. “I wouldn’t want you to wake up for me, especially not on such an important day. You need all the rest you can get.”

A soft hum echoed through the speakers. [You’re right… but I love hearing your voice.] Your words were silky smooth, making your husband smile even wider as he imagined the sleepy look on your face, your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion as a beautiful, fatigued smile pulled on your lips. He imagined curling closer to you, pulling your body into his own and inhaling the soft scent of your soap and moisturizer, wishing he could carry around your aroma in a bottle for whenever he wanted to think of you.

“How are you feeling about today?” he asked.

[Really, really nervous. But we all have a plan.] Your shaky response made Law’s heart clench, but he waited patiently for you to continue talking. [I go in at 9 AM for the procedure. Penguin is driving me, because I don’t trust Shachi’s car, but Shachi and Ikkaku are going to stay at the apartment with Bepo. The procedure is going to take only, like, ten or so minutes, so I requested to have local anesthesia so I don’t have to be all groggy for the day. So it’ll probably hurt a bit, but I’m tough. I can deal.]

Law chuckled. “You are tough.” He wanted to say something else, perhaps sing your praises even more, but his insecurities from earlier flooded back into his head. “Hey… can I ask you something?”

[Of course, baby. Anything.]

“Are you…” he searched the crevices of his mind for the proper words. “Are you annoyed with me when I call too often?”

The line was silent for a few moments too many. [Why would I be annoyed?]

The man rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I don’t know… I had a weird conversation over drinks tonight and I’m overthinking it.”

He could hear you audibly sigh. [I absolutely, one hundred percent, do NOT think you’re annoying. I get so excited whenever you call. When you called me yesterday when I was at Nami’s, she poked fun at me for lighting up when you called. She said it looked like I was glowing.]

Law smiled at the thought. Before he could continue speaking, though, you took a breath.

[I would never be annoyed with you, ever. If anything, I wish you could call more, but I know you have your big important responsibilities while you’re over there.] Your voice was uplifting, encouraging. Law’s chest felt lighter simply by listening to you talk. Oh, the power you held. [When you come home, I’m going to smother you in so many kisses to make up for whatever asshole made you feel shitty.]

“I’d love that, baby,” Law sighed into the receiver. “I miss you… I don’t think I’m cut out for long business trips.”

[You only have three more days, you can do it!]

Law had an image in his head of you excitedly pumping the air with your fist, your eyes bright and shining as you encouraged him to keep his head up and continue pushing forward with the incredible reward of returning home to your arms.

[And hey, when you come home, we’ll have a bunch of microscopic eggs in a petri dish at the fertility clinic hopefully being fertilized.]

Law’s heart swelled at the mere thought of tiny embryos growing to hopefully be successfully implanted into you. The process of preparing for the procedure had been so long to him and he couldn’t even begin to comprehend how you must have felt in the weeks leading up, but the way you had managed to stay strong through the entire duration was profoundly inspirational to him. You were truly one special woman.

[I’m going to get up and take Bepo out, but I’ll text you throughout the day to tell you how things went! Oh, and Law?]

“Yes, baby?”

[Don’t lose sleep over me. I can somehow see those eyebags through the phone. I promise I’m going to be okay, so get some rest, alright?]

Law smirked. You knew him far too well. “No promises.”

[Law…]

He sighed, a chuckle escaping his lungs. “Okay, I promise I’ll get some sleep. My hotel roommate’s in the shower right now, but when he’s done I’m going to clean myself up and get some rest. I’ll talk to you later, baby.”

He could hear the smile on your voice as you responded. [I love you, Law.]

“I love you, too, beautiful.”

—

“Shachi and Penguin are pussies,” Ikkaku groaned, crossing her arms over her chest in the chair that sat across from your small pre-op bed. “Afraid of some women’s health matters…”

You giggled at her frustration. “Well, I’m really happy that you were able to take today off and help me out, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course!” Ikkaku flashed you a charming, toothy grin. “Anything for my bestie. Besides, from what I read online, you’re gonna need some support to help deal with the pain.”

“It shouldn’t hurt that bad… they’re giving me local anesthesia, so I’ll only feel a little bit. At least, I hope that’s the case,” you replied with a nervous shudder. “You won’t have to deal with a loopy post-op me. Last time I had a procedure done, Law told me I didn’t stop gushing over him for almost six hours.” Your head fell into your hands, embarrassment painting your face.

Ikkaku laughed at your shameful state. “You can still tell me how much you love me while completely sober, though, right?”

You flashed her a cheeky grin. “Don’t test your luck.”

You struggled to admit it, but you were wildly anxious. The last time you talked to Law was when you returned his call a few hours prior, and thinking about him halfway across the world, probably (hopefully) fast asleep in preparation for another day of conferences was reassuring, but you had a residual ache in your heart that yearned for him to be with you. The weeks of synchronizing your cycle and taking hormone injections to mature your eggs was a long, boring, and tedious process, but it was all leading up to this very moment.

Now you just had to hope that some of your eggs were mature enough to fertilize… if they would fertilize at all.

“Mrs. Trafalgar?” A nurse stepped into your room with a clipboard, a few sheets of paper attached to the metal clamp. “I just need to have you sign a few forms and then we’ll take you in!”

You took the board and the pen from her grasp, wiping your hands on your hospital gown to rid your palms of your nervous sweat. You signed the release forms with a few quick strokes of your pen before handing the papers back to the nurse who happily took them from you.

“Alright, you’re all set! The doctor will be in shortly to take you back,” she explained before cordially nodding towards you and exiting the room.

Your foot was bouncing off the mattress. “Ahh… Ika… I’m so nervous.”

Ikkaku stood from her chair, crossing the room to be at your side. She rubbed her hand over your shoulder, her expression sympathetic yet encouraging. “You’re gonna do great, you’ll be in and out! 10 minutes, just like you said!”

“But what if my eggs aren’t mature? I’ll hear if they are before we leave…” You could feel your heart rate increase at the prospect of all your hard work in the past few weeks being for nothing.

“Hey, look at me,” Ikkaku demanded, her voice soft. She took your cheeks in her hands, turning your head to face her. “No negative thinking. Your eggs are probably more mature than an elderly person!”

You snorted, making her pull her hands away quickly and wipe them on her shirt. “That’s the comparison you make?”

“Geriatric eggs,” she confirmed, smirking at you. “But seriously, you’re going to be fine. I have a good feeling. And after you’re back here and the anesthesia is wearing off and we find out that your eggs are nice and mature, we’ll go and celebrate with some ice cream.”

Your mouth began watering at the prospect. “That does sound pretty good…”

“Exactly! So keep your chin up!” Ikkaku excitedly pumped her fists in the air, a sight that made your lips crack into a smile as you absorbed the excited, optimistic energy from your best friend.

“Knock, knock, Mrs. Trafalgar, are you ready?” The doctor overseeing your egg extraction peeked his head in.

You swung your legs over the side of your bed, holding the back of your gown closed with one of your hands. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good luck!” Ikkaku called as you followed the doctor into the small outpatient operating room.

You were starting to really dislike the feeling of paper and polyester clinic gowns, they way they were completely shapeless and stiff on your skin made you feel particularly vulnerable. You would much rather be naked to the open air than don a hospital gown, but you also quite liked not being locked up in jail. You bit down your discomfort and entered the small outpatient procedure room where you were instructed to lay back on the table and put your feet in the stirrups. You stared emotionless at the tiled ceiling, the bright white LED lights making your pupils constrict. You simply nodded through the nurses’ instructions and comments, quietly letting them insert an IV needle into your arm for fluids.

“We’re going to be using a local anesthetic that will be injected near the top of your vagina, and an ultrasound will be running to assist with locating your ovarian follicles,” the doctor explained, displaying the capped needle in his hand. “This procedure will only be around 10 to 15 minutes, but throughout the duration we will be injecting additional small doses of a low-level narcotic pain reliever so make sure you don’t experience any discomfort. Does that sound good?”

You gave a curt nod. “Yes it does.”

“Perfect. Please inform us if you feel any large amounts of pain, or any discomfort outside of your pelvic region.” The doctor turned his back on you, and your eyes resumed staring at the ceiling, your hands over your chest resting directly above your heart.

You felt a small pinch near your core that made you wince, but you kept your body still and tried to focus on your breathing. It didn’t take long for sensation in your hips and pelvis to dull, a strange, numb tingling sensation replacing any contact from the hospital gown pushed up around your waist. It certainly felt… strange. An additional small pinch was felt in the junction of your inner thigh, and a technician spread a generous amount of the familiar, cold ultrasound gel over your lower abdomen before placing the wand firmly against your belly and locating your ovaries through your layers of skin and muscle.

“We’re inserting the speculum now,” the doctor explained, making sure to keep you in the know of what exactly they were doing to you.

You kept quiet. A tugging sensation was felt in your lower body as the cold, metal speculum spread you open, but the anesthesia and pain relievers made it much more tolerable than any pap smear you had ever received. You kept your hands placed over your chest, linking your fingers together as if to secure yourself to the table.

“You might feel a sharper pain, we’re inserting the suction cannula and needle into your vagina.”

“Alright,” you replied, feeling too awkward to stay silent.

Sure enough, a much sharper yet still manageable cramping pain was felt as the suction tube and needle were inserted. You cringed as you felt them press sharply against the wall of your vagina, a sudden, stinging sensation radiating through your body as the needle punctured your inner walls and located your ovarian follicles with the help of the ultrasound machine. You sucked in a sharp breath, alerting one of the nurses.

“Doing alright, hun?” she asked, approaching your side. She was a much older woman, clearly a seasoned nurse, with a few small decorative enamel pins around the collar of her cotton uniform scrubs. She had a soft, motherly face as she gazed at you, her eyes assessing your condition.

“Y-Yeah… just a bit painful,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“We’ll give you another small dose of pain medication,” she confirmed, tossing you a sweet smile that melted any insecurity in your heart. “You’re doing amazing, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. Something about her seemed to fill the room with a sense of comfort despite having only known her for a mere few seconds. You barely felt the second injection of painkillers in your other thigh, your body slowly growing numb to the sensation of the cannula pressing harshly against your vaginal walls. The nurse came around the table again and rubbed your shoulder reassuringly.

“Still hanging in there, dear?”

“Yes, I am,” you nodded, speaking in a tired tone. “Thank you.”

Her response to your gratuity was another pat on your shoulder. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breathing to distract from the dull cramping that radiated throughout your lower body. It felt eerily similar to your miscarriages, with the only comfort in the thought being that you were in a supervised medical environment. Your thoughts shifted to your husband across the world from you. It was an understatement to say that you couldn’t wait for him to get home. You two had barely been without each other since you started dating, and while some have said that your shared lifestyle is only a recipe for relationship burnout, the two of you would adamantly disagree with that sentiment. Law was a rock, a stable sanctuary for your deepest and darkest fears, whereas you were a shining light in his life, bringing him hope when his days seemed to be at their bleakest. What some would call extreme codependency, you would simply call a healthy and mutually respectful relationship with your beloved husband.

God, you missed him.

“And we’re all done!” the doctor announced, ripping you from your thoughts.

“Already?” you asked, picking your head up as the nurse helped your partially numb feet down from your stirrups.

“Yup! We’re sending your samples to the lab to count how many eggs we were able to harvest, so while you wait for a bit in recovery we’ll get to counting,” he explained, taking off his gloves and washing his hands in the sink placed across the room.

The friendly nurse from earlier gave you a gentle pat on your shoulder once more. “You did so well, dear!” She assisted with helping you stand from the table. A pair of disposable panties were handed to you, lined with a thick pad. “You’re probably going to have some light spotting for a few days, you can take these off and replace them with your normal underwear and pads when you get home. Don’t use tampons for about two weeks while your vagina recovers, alright?”

You graciously accepted her help with stepping into the uncomfortable clothing. “Understood.”

You were more than wobbly on your feet, the localized anesthesia making you somewhat dizzy, so you were helped into a foldable wheelchair to push you back to the small outpatient recovery room where Ikkaku was still waiting for you. She stood enthusiastically from her seat when you and the nurse approached, a look of sheer anticipation in her eyes.

“How did it go?” she asked, helping you stand to lay down on the small, stiff mattress.

“I think it went pretty well,” you replied, finally getting to rest your head on a pillow with a content sigh.

The nurse turned toward your friend. “I take it, you're her ride?”

“Yes, ma’am!” the curly-haired brunette nodded. “Is there anything I should be aware of for home?”

“Make sure she’s drinking plenty of water and getting as much rest as she can. It might take a few hours for the feeling to come back in her legs.” She turned to you. “You’ll probably experience a few days of cramping, ibuprofen is more than enough to get you through it! If you experience any significant complications or issues, though, please call us back right away.”

You gave her a polite smile. “Thank you for everything.”

“Of course, sweetheart, it's my pleasure. The doctor will come back when your eggs are counted, and you should be good to leave then, but he’ll give you the discharge paperwork himself when he feels you’re ready.” With a friendly nod, she exited the room and closed the door slightly behind her, leaving it cracked open enough to give you and Ikkaku privacy until the doctor came back.

“So…” she asked. “Did it hurt?”

You laughed at her willingness to know the details. “A little, they stuck this suction tube up inside of me and a needle was pushed through that tube into my vaginal wall.”

Ikkaku held her hand out, a grimace on her face making her eyebrows crease in discomfort. “Alright, that’s enough talking from you.”

You shared a giggle at her weary expression. Once your conversation had simmered, you asked her for your phone so you could send a text to Law and let him know that you were in the recovery room waiting for your eggs to be counted. You tapped the send button and put your phone to sleep mode, knowing that he most likely wouldn’t respond to you for another few hours while he was sleeping. But the thought of him waking up to a positive text from you made your heart flutter. You knew he probably needed it, his voice sounded so tired when you called him back earlier that morning. An entire week of medical conferences and meetings with high-ranking colleagues from across the world would be enough to send anyone into an exhaustion coma, and the first thing you wanted to do when he arrived home was run him a nice bath, maybe light a nice candle, and cuddle him until he suffocated. With love, of course.

Almost 30 minutes of you and Ikkaku sitting in silence on your phones passed by before the doctor came back into your room with your discharge papers and a smile on his face. “Mrs. Trafalgar, we successfully extracted 12 eggs. 7 of them are mature enough for fertilization, which will begin as soon as we get your samples to the lab.”

Ikkaku beamed at you. “That’s amazing!”

You stood from your bed, your legs still fairly wobbly from the anesthesia, and signed the discharge papers that the doctor held. You gave him a fond smile. “Thank you so much.”

“Never a problem, I wish you all the best. Remember to call your usual clinic or us if you have any issues in recovery. Have an amazing day, ladies!” He held the clipboard with your papers firmly under his arm before nodding his head and leaving, keeping the door held open so you could leave whenever.

You took one step forward and almost immediately stumbled to the ground, Ikkaku scrambling for your arms to hold you upright. She looked panicked.

“Are you alright?” she asked, helping you lean against the end of the table.

You laughed under your breath. “I think my legs are still weak from the numbing stuff they gave me… might need to bring me to your car in a wheelchair.”

She gave you a mock salute and ran to a nurse’s station, returning with a small foldable wheelchair similar to the one you were put in immediately after your procedure. She wheeled you out to her car to take you home, cracking ‘grandma’ jokes along the way as if you were a nursing home patient being wheeled to the park.

For the first time in what felt like a millennia, your chest felt light.

A dozen eggs in a basket… or in your case, a petri dish.

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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