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hgfictionwriter · 6 months ago

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Self Control: Part Twelve - Doubts

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Your due date is fast approaching, but Jessie has one set of away matches left. Anxiety, insecurity and doubt creep in while she’s gone.

Warnings: G!P content. Slight angst. Phone sex. Mutual masturbation. Praise kink. Preg/breeding kink. Possessive language. General language. Minor gaslighting?? (Nothing nefarious)

A/N: Thank you all for responding to the poll. I’m pretty thrilled you were interested in reading more of the story. Hope you enjoy. Rest of the series is here.

“Sure you don’t need me to stay?”

Before the words were even out of her mouth, Jessie knew the look you’d give her. Sure enough, by the time she set her bag at the front door and turned around, you were frowning sternly at her.

“Jess. We talked about this. And we talked with the midwife. There’s no reason anything should happen while you’re away. We’ve still got a bit of time.”

She took in your words. She still felt uneasy, but you were right, the midwife told her it was unlikely that you’d go into labour in the next week. The baby hadn’t dropped and the time wasn’t right yet either. However, it didn’t stop her from worrying.

The national team had an important set of qualifiers taking place. She’d floated the option of not going a while back and you’d immediately shut it down. She offered again as the dates, and your due date, grew closer, but again you refused.

It’s not that she didn’t want to go - she really did. She had a strong sense of duty not only to her teammates, but to the fans and - it sounded silly maybe - but to the country even. She wanted to represent her country to the best of her abilities and to carry on the legacy that Sinc and that generation had built. But, with the arrival of her firstborn around the corner, she had doubts about leaving you. She’d never forgive herself if she wasn’t around for your labour and the birth of your baby.

Not surprisingly though, you were adamant that she go. You’d always been unwaveringly supportive of her career and understood her dedication to her teams and to the sport in general.

That said, she always wanted you to know that if you needed her - pregnancy or not - she would be there for you. In a heartbeat. She also knew you’d never take advantage of her willingness to prioritize you.

She’d reflected more than once over the years on this. If she’d ever had a doubt that you were the one, this shift in her would’ve been confirmation enough.

She was a caring and thoughtful girlfriend to all of her exes. But, they weren’t top of her list. When she was in high school and university, school always came first. Then, football - her career - always came first. Before she knew it though, she was willing to stay up late to talk to you, skip practice to spend time with you, miss matches - not that you ever let her; which was yet another reason she loved you. But the fact that she entertained the thought told her all she needed to know.

So, as per usual, you told her to go, even though you had to be at least a little bit nervous. Regardless, you didn’t need her apprehension weighing on you or influencing you. So she swallowed her worries and smiled at you instead.

“Okay, love. Call me right away if anything comes up. And call Karina or Kelli if you need something immediately. Don’t hesitate,” Jessie told you seriously.

“Yes, dear,” you said patiently as you cracked a smile. “Just picture me in the stands cheering for you. You know I’d be there if I could. And just imagine, depending on what we want to do, by the time your next tournament rolls around, your daughter may be in the stands with me cheering mommy on.”

Jessie smiled broadly at the thought. She stepped towards you and placed her hands on your rounded belly. She went to say something else but the kick under her palm distracted her, followed by another kick. She looked up at you in surprise.

“Oh gosh, she’s really kicking,” she said.

“Oh yeah. She’s been kicking up a storm all morning,” you said with a hint of a smirk. You mock whispered, “I think she may know you’re leaving.”

Jessie gave you an exaggeratedly sad look and dropped to her knees so she was level with your bump. Her hands were still on the significant swell of your stomach, pushing up slightly to lift your belly and give your back some relief. You audibly sighed and gave her a grateful look as she spoke.

“I’m not going away,” she said apologetically. “At least for long. I’ll be back in a little over a week,” she went on followed by a kiss to your stomach. Her brow furrowed and she spoke imploringly. “You have to stay in there, okay? Please, please, wait until I’m back. Can you do that for me? For good measure - you stay nice and cozy in there for another 3 weeks, alright?”

Jessie smiled up at you when you reached down to tenderly tuck her hair behind her ear. You rubbed your stomach and spoke to the baby though you kept your eyes on Jessie.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m going to miss her, too,” you said with a wink. Jessie made another sad face even if she was probably meant to laugh. She kissed your hand and then your stomach.

“Mommy will be back soon. I’m going to miss you both so much. You two take care of each other while I’m away.”

Jessie forced a smile as you cupped her cheek.

“We’ll be alright, Jess. Don’t worry about us. Focus on the matches.” She rose and you pulled her in for a kiss. “Give ‘em hell.”

———————

Seeing her national teammates was always a joy. She loved her club team, but the national team? She’d practically grown up with half of them. And the highs and lows of national tournaments, along with the pride of representing their country - never mind winning Olympic Gold together - it just bonded them in a totally different way.

She was hit with a barrage of questions, teasing, as well as gifts from them and staff around the impending arrival of the baby. So many gifts she’d probably have to buy another bag to bring them all home.

Normally, Jessie couldn’t stand attention, even from people she was as close to as the team, but when it came to the thought of her daughter, all it did was make her smile. She couldn’t wait to introduce her daughter to these great people. She could tell how they’d shower her with love and care and it filled her heart up.

Before dinner, she went up to the hotel room she was sharing with Janine to drop off an armload of gifts. She set them down in one of the chairs and posed in front of the growing pile and made a funny face as she took a selfie for you.

Selfies. Another thing she didn’t exactly like, but knew you did so she took them for you, especially when she was far away. When she was happy with the photo, she sent it - a follow up to the thumbs up selfie she’d sent you when she landed.

“Should’ve brought another bag”

“How are you doing, love? How’s our baby? I wish you were here. I miss you already.”

The team was just sitting down to dinner when her phone buzzed.

“Omg. You’re kidding lol. Looks like we’re going to need that space in the guest room after all lol. That’s so sweet of everyone. Please pass along my thanks (and ‘hellos’!)”

“Btw you’re so freakin cute. I love you 🥰 “

“I’m doing okay. She’s been restless, which you know, is driving me a bit bonkers. But all’s well. And I miss you too, baby. I hope you have a great dinner with everyone!”

Tomorrow was a bit of an adjustment day. A team walk in the morning, some sightseeing, training in the afternoon and an evening to themselves, so the night went fairly late as everyone caught up with one another.

She was getting ready for bed when she heard Janine snickering as she brushed her teeth. Jessie gave her a scrutinizing look and the girl merely held up her phone. Jessie scowled as she saw a post Julia had put up of Jessie sandwiched between her and Jordyn at the restaurant as they both pinched her cheeks.

“I love when she posts pictures of me,” Jessie said dryly with a halfhearted eye roll. Janine spit out her toothpaste and gave Jessie a teasing look.

“Vanessa, Jordyn, Cloe, Ashley, Shelina…the list goes on. Never mind me. And the admin account.”

Jessie shot her a withering glare. “We’ve been here less than a day.”

“Well if you had your notifications on you’d see all the posts you’re tagged in,” Janine said with a shrug. “And we can’t help it if you’re so photogenic. Plus come on, the fans love you, and you’re, you know, the captain. So of course the staff are going to highlight everything you do.”

Jessie rolled her eyes again but checked her phone, a fleeting disappointment running through her upon not seeing a new reply from you. You two had been texting, but your replies were getting further apart and slightly shorter. Curt even? Aloof? She couldn’t put her finger on it.

She shook her head and dismissed any burgeoning worries.

She sent another couple of texts.

“Just getting into bed. Wish it was next to you. No worries about talking tonight. You’re probably busy or maybe you fell asleep already (which is good! Get some sleep whenever you can!). Maybe we can talk tomorrow night?”

“I’m leaving my ringer on (too bad, Janine), so just text or call me if you’re up and can’t sleep. Happy to talk and keep you company. Anyway. Sweet dreams, babe. Love you.”

It took her a while to fall asleep, her apprehension about leaving you, along with your lack of reply tonight had her mind whirring despite efforts otherwise. However, eventually she dozed off.

The room was still dark when she woke next. She blinked several times as she palmed the nightstand looking for her phone. She checked the time - nearly 5:00am.

More importantly though. A notification from you. She must’ve really been tired if she slept through the notification. She felt the drowsiness leave her body as she unlocked her phone to see.

“Sorry. Got distracted. Hope you had a good night. I love you too.”

Jessie frowned. There was nothing explicitly wrong with what you sent. But it wasn’t like you. Though she was relieved to hear from you, it didn’t exactly settle her. But, she didn’t want to read into things and add stress for you.

“Hi baby. No need to apologize. I just woke up. Will probably try to get a bit more sleep though. I hope you’re having a good sleep. Sucks not waking up next to you. I can never get used to it.”

She managed to get some more sleep, but by the time the team had breakfast together and returned from their little sightseeing tour she still hadn’t heard from you. There was a time difference, so it’d be a bit early for you, but it still felt odd.

Jessie found herself ruminating and it wasn’t helpful or useful, so she made of point of being extra social to keep herself distracted.

She checked her phone again as the bus was pulling into the training facility. The last message in your convo was still the picture she sent you of the skyline and a “Hope your morning’s going well! I hope work’s not too busy today” message.

It wasn’t until a break when Jessie snuck back into the locker room to check her phone that she finally saw another message from you.

“Looks pretty, babe.”

“Morning’s been fine. Lots of meetings.”

Her features felt heavy as she read your messages. Normally, you were warm. Chatty. Inquisitive. These messages didn’t feel that way at all and she felt a pit forming in her stomach.

A few bubbles popped up and she felt herself perk up. She watched and waited.

“Hope practice is going well.”

A small smile crossed her face and she felt encouraged. She went to text you, but changed her mind and tried FaceTiming you. She scurried over to a quiet corner and waited for you to answer.

You didn’t.

A renewed wave of disappointment went through her, which she quickly dismissed. She scolded herself. You just said you had meetings. It was unlikely you were actually free to talk. She exhaled and tapped out a text instead.

“Hi babe! Yeah, it’s nice here. I’d like to take you sometime. Sorry to hear you’ve had so many meetings. Hopefully they’re not too stressful. I know things have been hectic as you’re trying to wrap things up before the baby comes.”

“Practice is going well! We’re trying out some new formations and it’s going well so far. It’s so interesting coming back together after club transfers - you can see how different playing styles have been adopted, the difference that comes from increase or decrease in minutes. All of that.”

She finished with a smirk, knowing that if you were standing across from her you’d called her a nerd and kiss her. Sadly though, that wasn’t the case.

When practice wrapped Jessie was met with a reply.

“Yep. It’s been a lot. And who knows what it’ll all be like when I come back after mat leave.”

“That’s interesting, babe. Glad practice went well. They’re lucky they have your brains.”

“You know you don’t have to text me, right? You should be focused on the team and the upcoming game.”

Jessie frowned. Okay. She had to confront things now.

“Babe, is everything okay? You seem off. And I know I don’t have to text you. I want to - of course.”

It wasn’t until everyone was showered and arriving back at the hotel that you replied again.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been busy with work. And I’m tired.”

Jessie’s face fell again. While everything you said was logical, it just didn’t feel right. She didn’t know what she’d done wrong and she just wanted to fix it.

She slowly gathered up her things and got off the bus. As everyone got ready for dinner she messaged you again.

“Okay. Well, try to get some rest this evening. The team’s going for dinner soon, but some of us will come back right after. Can I call you tonight?”

Jessie was at dinner when her phone buzzed.

“You should stay out with the others. You don’t need to come back early just to talk to me.”

“I want to talk to you. I’d much rather do that than go out.”

“You haven’t seen some of them in ages. Go spend time with them, Jess.”

She frowned at her phone. You’d been slow to reply all day and she was happy to talk with you in ‘real time’ so to speak, but she wasn’t anticipating this. She felt like you were pushing her away and she didn’t understand why.

“Babe. I can do both. Can I call you tonight? I would really like to. It doesn’t have to be long.”

You didn’t reply right away, leaving Jessie distracted and restless throughout the rest of dinner. She opted to go back to the hotel with the first batch of folks just in case you changed your mind and wanted to talk.

She was playing a board game with Quinn and a few others in their room when you finally responded.

“I don’t really feel like talking.”

The pit in her stomach twisted. Another text came through as she was rereading your last.

“I’m sorry, Jess.”

“Sorry. I’ll be right back,” she mumbled as she got up off of the floor and stepped into the hall, ignoring whether or not her teammates were eyeing her or not.

“Babe. We always find time to talk when I’m away. What’s going on? Now I know for sure something’s wrong. Please tell me.”

“Jessie. I want you to spend time with your team. Have fun. Enjoy yourself. Truly. We’ll talk later. And I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Jessie wasn’t sure why, but she felt tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. She found herself breathing deeply as she tried to steady herself. She swallowed her rising emotion.

“Okay. Well, I’ll let you go, then. Tell me when you’re up to talking and we’ll talk, okay?”

“Sounds good. Good night.”

“I love you.”

The “I love you” was the warmest you’d been all day and though it satiated her to some degree, it also made her chest constrict in a way that was more or less foreign to her in her relationship with you.

Maybe in the future, she’d have the liberty to be amused at the contrast between how she felt in this moment and how she might’ve with any ex. If an ex had been distant or cold, she honestly couldn’t have really cared less. Sure, it wasn’t enjoyable, but it wasn’t going to affect her like this. Right now? She felt terrible and uneasy, and she couldn’t even really voice why.

When Jessie woke the next day, her sleep restless at best, she felt that weight of concern throughout her body before she even picked up her phone. The feeling amplified when she didn’t see another text from you.

She opened your conversation. Sure enough, the last message was her saying good night to you - no reply. Her jaw subconsciously tightened and she wrote you again.

“Good morning, my love. I hope you had a good sleep and our little one didn’t keep you up too much. We have practice this morning, but can we talk tonight?”

She wanted to confront you more, but she didn’t know if she was being unreasonable. Plus if she got angry with you it could just cause you to pull further away.

She did silly media things for the team that day, finished training and still hadn’t heard from you. She couldn’t believe how emotional it was making her. Cloe asked something about you and Jessie had to pull herself together to give a composed answer. In truth she just had this worry and hurt and didn’t know what to do. She just wanted to be at home with you and to talk to you.

It wasn’t until around dinner that you finally replied.

“Sure. I’ll text you when I’m done dinner.”

It wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but it was something.

The evening wore on and some of the team was starting to go to bed by the time you texted.

“Hey. I got held up at work. The time difference isn’t working in our favour. You should get some sleep. Your game is tomorrow night. You need rest. We can talk tomorrow instead.”

A rush of frustration went through Jessie. She just didn’t understand. You were a pretty direct and open communicator; if anyone got quiet and withdrawn it was definitely normally her, so it was bizarre and confusing for you to be this way.

“I’d like to talk now. I’m worried about you. I’ll sleep better if we talk.”

She chewed the side of her thumb as she stared at her phone and awaited your consent.

“Okay. I’m free now.”

Jessie’s found an empty meeting room of sorts and forewent a chair to instead pace as she called you. Her heart was raced as the device rang in her ear. She didn’t recall feeling like this since you first started dating. And even then it was entirely different.

“Hello?”

Your monosyllabic greeting was impersonal and flat and her throat tightened over it.

“Hi baby,” she said softly, not wanting to meet your aloofness with her own.

You didn’t say anything and she cleared her throat, shoving a hand in her pocket.

“What’d you have for dinner?” She asked, wanting to keep things light for now.

She heard a soft sigh come through the phone and you replied, tone still disinterested. “Just some chicken, rice and veggies.”

Jessie did her best to not be discouraged by your tone. “That’s good. How’d the rice turn out?” She said, attempting to crack a joke over how you struggled to cook rice well and always deferred to her to do so.

“Fine,” you said. A beat passed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Never mind,” Jessie mumbled slightly as she cleared her throat once more and tried to not get upset.

The call was quiet for another second.

“How was your dinner? Looked like you guys had fun.”

A frown settled on Jessie’s face. “What? I mean, yeah, it was good and it was fun to hang out. But how did you know?”

“Janine and Julia posted a story,” you replied.

“Oh.” Jessie chuckled. “Of course it was them. Perpetually online.”

“Yeah,” you replied flatly before another lull formed.

Jessie scratched the side of her head and lifted herself up onto the balls of her feet as she broached the tension.

“Um. Are you alright, babe? You seem…I don’t know,” she trailed off, now falling back to her heels and kicking idly at the carpet below her. “Off I guess. Like. Quiet.”

“I told you I’m tired, Jess,” you responded with thinly veiled terseness.

“Yeah. But I know what you’re like when you’re tired. And it’s not like this,” she countered mildly.

She heard a huff of a laugh from you. “And I’ve never been 9 months pregnant before, so. Guess we’re in new territory.”

Jessie rubbed her forehead. “Is that what’s going on? I’m sorry I left. I offered to stay, you know,” she said without malice.

You huffed again. “I would never want you to skip this, Jess. You should know me better than that.”

“Well then I’m confused. I feel like I’m in trouble. My best guess is for being here. Yet I offered to stay and you wanted me to go.”

“You’re not in trouble,” you said.

Jessie gave a short laugh. “Yeah? How come you’ve barely talked to me since I landed? It’s painful trying to get more than a two word answer out of you. It’s like talking to me is a chore or an obligation all of a sudden.”

Her brow was heavy as she frowned and waited for you formulate a reply.

“I told you already, I want you to spend time with everyone and to have fun. Go enjoy yourself,” you said, a bit more quiet and subdued this time.

She gave another empty laugh. “I have. I told you I have. But I want to talk to you, too.”

“Why?”

Her face screwed up in disbelief. “Because you’re my fiancée and the mother of my child and I love you??” She asked, her voice rising.

A beat passed and Jessie could feel her heart thumping heavily in her chest.

“Well.” Another moment passed and your voice tightened. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Jessie asked, calming down some and speaking softly.

There was another pause, longer this time, and she was able to inquire when she heard a faint sniffle through the phone.

“Y/N?” She asked. “Are you okay?”

More silence until another sniffle came through.

“Babe,” she beseeched, feeling anxiety start to build in her body. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, your voice thick with emotion this time.

“Baby,” Jessie said gently. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry that instead of just having fun and enjoying everything, you have me to worry about,” you said, voice wavering.

Jessie frowned deeper than ever. “What? Babe, I don’t understand.”

“Jess,” you implored. “I see all of the posts everyone puts up. You’re all having a great time, having these new experiences, new sights. I see how much fun you’re having - and I really want that for you. Please don’t misunderstand. I just feel horrible that you’re being tied down now,” your voice broke at the end and you sniffled more fully.

“Babe-” Jessie’s confusion and surprise was cut off as you spoke further.

“I’m sitting here, big as a house, ready to pop, and I’m seeing you have the time of your life - as you should - and I’m wondering if this is actually what you want. You’re in your prime. You’re travelling the world. Surrounded by gorgeous girls at every turn. And in a few weeks you’ll have a screaming baby at home and with a partner who ties you down.

“We got pregnant - basically on a whim, and you proposed and your whole life is going to change and I can’t help but worry you didn’t think it through and you’ll feel trapped. And I’m sorry I’m the one who did it to you.”

By now, you were sobbing into the phone. Jessie’s jaw had dropped and she was just staring blankly at the ground as she processed your claims.

“Baby,” she eventually said, her voice both purposeful and gentle. “I don’t feel that way. I need you to know that.”

Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to organize her thoughts and address your worries.

“We chose to get pregnant. Emphasis on the ‘We’ and ‘chose’. Meaning I was very much,” she held back a soft laugh, “an active participant. I very consciously chose to try for a family with you. Yes - initially it was in the heat of the moment, but I haven’t had a single doubt about having a child with you. You are the one for me - through and through. Whether we were having a kid or not, but I am beyond ecstatic that we’re having a family together,” she stressed.

“All I do is talk about you and our little one,” Jessie said. “And I’m not sad or resentful of that at all - I’m thrilled. Babe, I love you more than anything. And I love our daughter just the same and I can’t wait to meet her.”

She heard your crying grow quieter and she went on softly.

“Are you perhaps having some doubts?” She asked, forcing past a new wave of apprehension. “I could understand if you did. It’s not fair to you that I’m out here - living the life, as you say - and you have the task of carrying our baby. I know you love work and your career has to be put on hold temporarily. I’m really sorry. And I’ll do everything I can to make that as painless as possible, but it doesn’t change the fact that that sacrifice still falls on you.”

You sniffled. “No,” you replied meekly. “I’m scared, I guess. But I don’t have doubts. I just feel like a burden and like I’ve cut off your freedom.”

Jessie sighed inaudibly. “You are not cutting off my ‘freedom’. I don’t feel restricted and I am going into this understanding that I also need to make adjustments and I really am happy to. I want you and a family together. I love football. Of course. It’s been my life. But it’s not my forever. That’s you. And her.”

“You’re being too nice to me,” you said, your voice hitching.

“No such thing. I love and adore you,” she said resolutely. “Now, can you tell me what’s scaring you? It’s totally valid to be scared, I just want to know more and to help if I can.”

“I don’t know. Some career stuff - the unknown there. If I’ll be a good parent. If you’ll leave me…”

“Your workplace will be counting down the days until you’re back. They’ve even said that,” Jessie chuckled. “And if, for any reason, you decide you want something different, we’ll navigate that when we get there and we’ll do it together. And you’re going to be an incredible mom. I have zero doubts. And I can’t even fathom the thought of leaving you. Not just because we’re having a kid together - in general. In fact, I’ve spent the past couple of days reflecting upon how absolutely different I am with you than I was with any of my exes. Believe me - there is no contest. Past or future.”

You sighed wearily into the phone. “God, Jess. I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have had to deal with my insecurities. Especially during your tournament. God.”

Jessie made a face. “Actually, as your partner that’s exactly what I’m supposed to do. And come on, this is the smallest of reassurances. You are so confident all the time - it’s intimidating, actually,” she said with a smirk. “Which you know.”

You finally laughed. “I know.”

“Mhm. You had me sweating and stammering when I first met you,” Jessie repeated for good measure.

“You did great,” you said with a laugh for which Jessie was grateful.

“I’m very, very happy to reassure you any time you need,” she reiterated.

"Thank you," you said with a small whimper. "I just got in my head. I'm anxious even though I know better." You gave a watery laugh that pulled a smile out of Jessie. "You still love me?"

Jessie laughed. "More than ever. I promise."

"I know I should've just talked to you. I'm sorry," you said.

"It's okay, baby. I'm glad we got that sorted," she told you before she rolled her eyes. "You had me worried that something had gone wrong - maybe the baby was coming early or something."

"Oh. Well she did drop."

"What!" Jessie exclaimed, head jutting forward.

"I think that's also went sent me into a spiral," you said. "It happened the day after you left. Remember she was so active - like crazy active. Then she just shifted and she's sitting so low now. I called the midwife - the timing makes sense and she has no concerns."

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you need to tell me these things," Jessie said, irritation settling in her shoulders.

"I was going to tell you when we talked...," you offered weakly, surely feeling guilty.

Jessie sighed heavily, pacing once more and trying to let go of her renewed anxiety and irritation.

"I'm sorry, Jess," you went on. "Not my best moment...moments...as a partner. Thank you for being so patient with me."

She hummed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's okay, babe. I know you're dealing with a lot. It's okay."

"I miss you," you said, more like an offer or an olive branch.

She had to laugh as she shook her head. "Yeah, I miss you too."

"If it makes you feel better - I felt miserable not talking to you. Or not being open with you."

"That doesn't make me feel better," Jessie said flatly though she chuckled.

"Mm. Well. I wish I was there with you. I always hate going to sleep without you, but especially right now," you said.

"I know the feeling," Jessie sighed as she leaned against the wall. "I really do wish you were here."

"Me too," you said. "Though I'm sure Janine could live without that," you laughed and she snickered.

"Uh, yeah, she'd pack up her bags and move immediately," she said. A devilish smirk crossed her face despite the weight of your conversation just moments before. "She hasn't fully recovered from that time she caught us on the phone - or me, I suppose."

"Oh my God," you laughed. "That was a lot of fun though."

"It really was," Jessie agreed as she recalled the memory. She cleared her throat as the visuals in her mind became a little too vivid. "Embarrassing, but fun."

"Maybe...we could have some fun like that again?"

Jessie quirked an eyebrow up. It sounded great, but she wanted to be mindful of the distress you’d been in.

"When?" She clarified.

"Mmm, up to you, I suppose. You have your game tomorrow, so you should probably get some sleep tonight," you said. Something in your tone told her you weren't entirely set on that though.

"I'm not tired," she simply said.

"Where are you now, then?" You asked.

"Nowhere convenient. But I can easily head back to the room," she said, already on the move. “You’re sure about this? No pressure or anything. Seriously. I want to make sure you’re okay first and foremost.”

"I’m very sure. I’ve been missing you so much. And you know what emotional intimacy does to me,” you chuckled, drawing the same reaction out of Jessie. “Are you sure? I really don't want to affect your game or state any more than I have."

"I think it would actually really help my game," she said flirtatiously as she got into the elevator.

"Okay, let me get ready too, then," you said. She heard you moving around and then the eventual sound of you rummaging through the nightstand drawer.

"Ugh," Jessie said, mostly facetiously. "That's my job," she grumbled.

"You've been replaced by a machine," you joked. "No, come on, you know these things collect dust when you're around. Nothing compares to having your cock inside of me."

"Jesus Christ, let me at least get to the room," she said through grit teeth as she walked towards her suite.

When she stepped inside, it was empty, as expected, but Janine could be coming back at any point. She grabbed her airpods and connected them as she stepped into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

"How fucking perfect," she whispered with a smirk as she spied the shelving above the toilet. She propped her phone up there and started video. When your face appeared on her screen she lit up. "There's my girl."

You gave a bashful smile, unlike the flirtatious or playful one you'd typically give in response; surely a lingering reaction from your earlier feelings.

"You're so beautiful. I've missed you so much," she said earnestly.

"I've missed you too, baby," you said sweetly. Jessie gave you a teasing look.

"See? Was that so hard?"

"What?" You asked with a small smile.

"Calling me 'baby'," she teased. You rolled your eyes playfully.

"What do I have to do to make it up to you?"

"Oh, baby. Sure you want to ask that?"

"Mhmm," you nodded, biting your lower lip. "I'm very sorry," you said slowly and in an entirely different way than earlier.

"Shit," Jessie said as she started to cup herself through her pants, her length starting to stiffen already. "That's my good girl." You bit your lip harder and she could see you start to fidget.

"I wish I was on my knees taking you into my mouth right now," you said.

Jessie groaned and undid her pants, dropping them to the floor, shortly followed by her boxers. She looked around quickly and spotted lotion on the counter, she stepped out of view - you whining right away - and pumped some into her palm before returning. She stroked her cock up and down, her hand moving swiftly and easily along her erection.

"What are you doing?" You asked with a flirtatious waggle of your eyebrows.

"Imagining your mouth around me," she said matter of fact.

"Well step back a bit, I wanna see," you said and Jessie obliged as she continued to stroke herself. She took off her shirt quickly, standing clad in a sports bra, her flexing bicep and abs on display.

"Oh fuck, babe," you said in want and she heard your vibrator turn on.

"You, too. If you really want to make it up to me you'll have to show me something. I know it's not easy right now, so feel free to be creative," Jessie said, tilting her chin up as she looked at you through her phone.

"Could it be the baby you planted in me," you said as you turned the phone to show your stomach as you rubbed it sensually. "Look at what you did to me, baby."

"Mm, you look gorgeous carrying my baby," Jessie said as she held herself more firmly as she stroked. She felt that primal rush inside of her and she groaned low in her chest. "You're my girl, aren't you?"

You started rubbing yourself with the vibrator and you returned the video to your face. Your cheeks were already growing flushed.

"Of course I am."

"Say it," Jessie demanded.

"I'm your girl, Jessie," you said. "Soon to be your wife. And mother of your child, of course."

"Fuck yes you are," she said through grit teeth as her pace quickened. "No one else's. Ever."

You nodded eagerly, your mouth now open as you pleasured yourself.

"No one else's. My pussy is so wet for you. You're the only one I want. God, I'm making a mess of our sheets already."

Jessie grunted as she clenched her jaw. "God, no one could ever work me up like you. Mm, I wish I buried inside of you right now. Fuck, I can feel how tight and hot you are around me. God, there's nothing and no one better."

"Oh fuck, Jess," you panted, your cheeks deep red and your head thrown back. "I need you to fuck me. Your hands on me, your cock filling me up. I need you so badly."

"You have me," Jessie breathed, her fist riding hard and fast up and down her length to the point her voice was shuddering. "I'm yours to keep. You know I'd be there taking care of you, taking care of my girl if I could."

"I know. No one can take better care of me than you."

"Remember that," she said as she started to buck into her fist. “God, you’re going to make me cum already.”

You shoulders heaved up and down, hitching as you worked your clit. “I’m close too.”

“Yeah?” Jessie asked with a crooked grin. “Picturing me thrusting into you from underneath - the sound of my hips slapping against your thighs as I stretch you out and make you mine all over again?”

“Oh God,” you panted and she could see your body rocking faster.

“Be a good girl and cum for me,” Jessie said. “Cum all over my cock and show me you’re mine. I’ll cum inside you and show you I’m yours.”

Your moans heightened as your eyes fell shut as you carried yourself over the edge. Your jaw was fully slack and you looked absolutely breathtaking as you reached your climax.

“I’m cumming for you, Jess,” you said before you began to whimper and she saw your body tense up.

“God yeah. My beautiful girl, cumming so good for me,” Jessie said as she watched you. She stepped forward and soon she grunted as ropes of cum shot into the toilet as she came. Her cock twitched in her hand as she rut into her hand. She couldn’t help but lament not being able to cum inside of you.

She stroked herself again, her motions slowing and her posture relaxing as she started to come down. She belatedly saw the wince on your face.

“Shit. The Braxton Hicks are intense right now,” you told her.

“Fuck - okay, no more. No more cumming until I’m home. I’ll be damned if you orgasm yourself into labour - especially me being here. No way,” she told you as she started to clean herself up. “Besides, you told me it was my job to fuck you into labour.”

You chuckled through a wince. “So demanding,” you joked. “Fine. As long as you’re ready to get to work as soon as you’re home.”

Jessie smirked. “You know I will be.”

—————

Jessie stood in front of the microphone post-game, shoulders still visibly rising and falling as she caught her breath and sweat still dripping down her face.

She answered the questions with quiet focus, eyes trained on the interviewer.

“…now lastly, you’re very close to expecting the arrival of your firstborn soon. Was that affecting you in any respect going into this win?”

While she wore a serious frown the minute prior, a broad smile now crossed her face and she felt her body lighten and relax.

“Oh, absolutely. My family is always on my mind and motivating me. I mean, the team and I work hard to focus and go into matches, especially ones like this, with a certain mentality no matter what and my fiancée is one of my best supporters. But,” she chuckled lightly, “if I was going to leave this close to the due date, I knew I better make it worth it and win,” she chuckled before her face settled into a soft smile. “But yeah, they’re both on my mind and I miss them like crazy. I know they both want us to rock it out here, and that’s what I intend to do, but I also can’t wait to be home.”

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #canwnt x reader #woso smut #g!p #lesbian breeding

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dark-fics-4-you · 1 year ago

Text

Number One Fan ch. III

dark!Stepbro!Rafe x f!Reader x JJ Maybank

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, smut, incest relationship (step-siblings), f!recieving oral, fingering, drugging, alcohol, gaslighting, manipulation, jealousy, controlling behavior

Rafe’s jealousy over your budding flirtationship with JJ becomes competitive, and Rafe can’t stop himself from trying to get closer to you

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You were completely and utterly stumped.

Despite searching every drawer, your laundry basket, each nook and cranny of your room AND tearing through Sarah’s room, you couldn’t find the underwear you were looking for.

Why did you have to realize your favorite pink silk panties were missing today of all days??

Glancing at your phone, you saw a new text from JJ, ‘i’ve been thinking about you all day y/n, can’t wait for tn ;)’

A smile tugged at your lips, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as JJ’s face entered your mind and you typed out a reply. Although you hadn’t realized it at first, your friend had so much more to him than just his goofy exterior.

JJ understood what it was like to have a tough childhood and a deadbeat Dad, something you had been all too familiar with before you mom finally left your father and eventually found Ward Cameron.

In a lot of ways, you felt like you could be completely yourself around JJ, which was difficult when you were with other friends. He was so perceptive and sweet, although he had a teasing side that you enjoyed just as much.

This was the first time that you had felt this comfortable around another man besides Rafe. But Rafe was your brother, so of course the feelings you had for JJ were different.

And even though you usually told Rafe everything about your life, you wanted to keep JJ a secret. You knew that Rafe would disapprove, he had voiced his opinion of JJ more times than you could count, and you knew that if you told him you were dating JJ he would be mad. So you kept everything between you and JJ only.

Being around JJ felt thrilling, like you never knew what he might do next. He was flirtatious as hell, which was daunting at first, but you grew to love his compliments and innuendos, often feeling a rush whenever he made any kind of sexual joke around you.

You were still a virgin, which felt embarrassing. You had never even had a boyfriend! Despite your many attempts at finding a relationship throughout middle and high school, each one had fizzled out before starting. It had been line after line of boys giving half hearted excuses about why they couldn’t be with you, and you never really understood why every single one of your relationships always failed.

You had never given or received head, honestly you had only had a limited number of make out sessions, always getting too nervous to take it further.

You were determined to finally change that all, and JJ seemed like the perfect guy to lose your virginity to.

You two had been friends for so long, it felt natural to start dating, and even though you knew JJ wasn’t a virgin, you could tell that he liked you a lot and sex with him would be so much more than just a hook up.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you leaned over your drawers. You grabbed a short skirt and lace up corset top that seemed appropriate for the house party you were planning on throwing.

It was always a bit risky to have your friend group coming over to your place since a lot of them were Pogues, friends that you had made before you rose to Kook status, and you had never liked the Pogue vs Kook rivalry.

Despite being a regular terrorizer of the Pogues, whenever you would hang out with them, Rafe wouldn’t bother them at all. Maybe he understood how important they were to you?

Or maybe he had finally started to outgrow his high school rival bullshit.

Either way, you enjoyed the privilege of inviting them over basically whenever you wanted, a privilege that Rafe rarely awarded to Sarah when she wanted to have them over.

This fact had always puzzled you, it was really strange observing the difference in how Rafe treated you and how he treated Sarah and Wheezie. You had always chalked it up to Rafe holding childhood grudges for too long.

You pulled on the skirt you picked out, choosing a slightly less provocative pair of panties than the ones that were still missing. After you tossed the shirt u were wearing to bed in your laundry basket, you slipped the corset top over your head and tried to adjust the straps to no avail.

Already frustrated by the missing underwear, you angrily stood up, walking over to Sarah’s room to complain about you issues and ask her to lace you up, but she was now nowhere to be found. She was probably halfway to John B’s at this point, she had been spending a lot of time with him recently.

With your sister gone, you had no option but to try Rafe’s room.

You knocked on the door, announcing, “Rafe, it’s Y/N! Can you help me with something?”

You leaned closer trying to hear an answer, and when you heard nothing you decided to just walk in. Opening the door, you found the room empty, but you could hear the shower in his bathroom running and warm steam and the smell of his body wash wafted through the air.

He must not have heard me, you thought to yourself as you stepped into his bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“Hey, Rafe!” you called again as you neared his bed, taking a seat on the plush mattress.

This time you heard the water turn off, and your step brother responded, “Y/N/N?”

“Yeah, can you help me lace up my corset?” You checked you phone again, happy to see another text from JJ, this time with a photo attachment. You could hear Rafe in the other room stepping out of the shower and you bit your lip nervously before you opened the message from JJ.

He was cupping his hard cock through the straining fabric of his boxers, and his large hand almost looked small next to his thick dick. Your eyes widened, thighs unconsciously squeezing together as you took in the image before you eyes drifted to the text beneath the photo, ‘look at what you do to me baby, i’ve been stroking myself all day thinking about your pretty mouth and pussy. i need to fill you up.’

His words had your cheeks burning and you felt your panties growing damp, you wanted him so bad you felt like you were on fire.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the door to Rafe’s bathroom opened and he stepped out, towel wrapped around his lower body, hair and chest still slick with water. Quickly closing your phone and shifting on the bed in surprise, you glanced at your brother with a sheepish grin, trying not to focus on his exposed chest.

“Um, hey could you lace this corset up for me, Rafey?” You batted your eyelashes at your older step brother, trying to ignore the wet feeling between your legs.

He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head in annoyance, but he stepped toward you anyways, motioning for you to turn around so he could reach the back of the corset.

“What’re you all dressed up for anyways?” You felt his warm hands brushing the bare skin of your back as he grabbed the laces, pulling them tight.

“I told you already, I’m throwing a party tonight, my friends are coming.” You were mad that he forgot your plans, just hoping that he wasn’t going to start a fight.

He was silent and you could feel the tension crackling in the air. Rafe tied the bow, hands falling at your waist before he spun you around.

“Is that a problem?” You asked him, challenge heavy in your voice. You really hated fighting with Rafe, because usually you had such a great relationship with him. It’s not that you wanted to cause an issue, you just didn’t see why there needed to be any issue.

Rafe sighed, before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a hug, “no Y/N/N, not a problem. You can have your party.”

You hugged him back happily, mood shifting instantly at his approval. “Thanks so much Rafey! Hey, you could invite some of your football friends over!”

He mulled over your suggestion and nodded a bit, “sure.”

Your phone buzzed and when you and Rafe both turned to glance towards it, you snatched it up, anxiously hiding the screen from your step brother.

“Well, I’m gonna start getting ready for tonight,” you glanced around his room one last time before your eyes randomly settled on his laundry basket.

You noticed the familiar pink shade of the cloth sticking out slightly and you walked to the basket, bending over to grab them.

“Ha, Rafey it looks like some of my laundry ended up in your basket,” you giggled, holding up the panties for Rafe to see.

Your older brother blushed, face frozen in surprise before he nervously laughed, stammering out a joke about ‘wanting to try them on’ that just made you laugh harder.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head in amusement before waving goodbye and heading back to your room.

After closing the door, you slid off the pair of panties you thought you were going to wear and replaced them with your favorite pair, checking yourself out in the mirror a bit as you did so.

Your phone buzzed again and you opened two texts from JJ, ‘send me a picture baby please,’ followed by ‘i need to see how wet you are for me princess’

Your cheeks grew hot and you felt you a warmth between your legs. You lay back on the bed, imagining JJ on top of you as your fingers crept between your legs.

You slipped the panties off, throwing them to the ground and you brought your fingers to your clit.

Swirling your fingers around the tender cluster of nerves, you let out a small moan at the feeling. You grabbed your phone, spreading your legs before snapping a picture with your finger teasing your clit.

You send the picture and JJ opened it immediately. A few seconds passed before you saw a video from him pop up.

When you clicked the video you saw JJ’s hand wrapped around his hard cock, stroking it slowly. Your mouth watered as you imagined the feeling of him inside of you.

Posing yourself again, you snapped a picture of your perky tits. You clicked send, anxiously awaiting his next response.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe watched you from afar as you scanned the crowd of the party again, looking for JJ’s blond hair.

He had been checking in on you every few minutes, making sure your cup was always full and offering you lines of blow, some of which you accepted.

It wasn’t hard to tell that you were drunk already, the most recent time he had spoken with you he had noted how much you were slurring your words and the unsteady way you tried to walk over to one of your girl friends.

He knew you had been looking for JJ. After you stepped into the shower before the party, Rafe had swiped your phone, looking through your most recent messages and realizing your motivations for throwing the party tonight.

Anger bubbled in his chest at the thought of that dirty Pogue defiling his sister. JJ was scum, always had been, always would be. How could you not see it??

JJ didn’t have half the history with you that Rafe did. He had known you for so long, watched you grow up from just down the hall. You had shared moments and memories that JJ could never have. Rafe was just trying to shield you from any man that wasn’t him.

Because Rafe had seen time and time again how men reacted to you. Every room you entered, he could feel the eyes swivel to you, could practically see these men perceive you as nothing more than a piece of meat.

And it made him sick.

You were so beautiful, so incredibly sweet, and way too trusting.

You were too good for that Pogue trash, too pure. If you hooked up with JJ, who knows what he might turn you into. JJ might even turn you against him, which made him the most pissed off.

Rafe Cameron’s little sister deserved to be protected from any of the sick men out there who wanted to ruin your innocence.

But for tonight, he knew that JJ wouldn’t bother you.

He glanced over at his friend across the room who gave him a knowing nod. The rest of his team had taken care of JJ, harassing him and pushing him outside of the house. They weren’t gonna let him back in, and Rafe wasn’t going to let you leave before he got what he wanted.

The music blasted through the house, bodies crowding every available space. Rafe could still see you sitting alone on a counter near the kitchen and he decided to check in on you again.

He came up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist in a hug and you smiled up at him, “Rafey! Can you get me a refill please?”

His heart melted at the way you batted your eyelashes at him and he felt his dick grow hard at the sight of your sweet smile.

“Sure princess, anything for you,” your older brother said with a wink before grabbing your cup to fill it up.

Rafe walked to the kitchen, luckily for him, there was no one else around at the moment.

He set your cup down on the counter, pulling the baggie of powder from his pocket before pouring a good amount to the bottom of the cup. He added more ice and filled it up with the strong punch you had made.

The less you remembered of this night, the better.

Rafe had been going crazy the last few weeks. After that night that he snuck into your room and fingered you, he had been thinking about you nonstop.

About your perfect body, the way you felt tightening around his fingers, so wet and all his. Every single noise you made, every sigh and moan had been playing on a loop in his mind, and he was determined to hear more.

To Rafe’s surprise, the morning after he snuck into your room the first time and made you cum in your sleep, he found you awake early in a great mood and cooking breakfast for everyone.

You spent that day with him, paying more attention to him than you had in a while, and even though there was a small pit of guilt building in your older brother’s gut as he kept his secret from you, he also loved being your center of attention.

Three days after the first night he came to your room at night, he did it again.

You were such a heavy sleeper it would have concerned Rafe if your nature didn’t allow him those moments alone in your room.

Some nights he just came in to watch you sleep, gaze wandering over your naked curves and fantasizing about stuffing his cock into you.

He wandered if that would wake you up, or if you would be able to sleep through him slowly fucking your limp body. He daydreamed about you waking up as he pounded into you, so cock drunk and tired that you would let your big brother do anything to you.

Every morning after he made you cum in your sleep, you would wake up feeling so refreshed and you were always especially sweet to him those days.

Rafe wanted so bad for you to know that he was the one making you feel so good. That your big brother was watching out for you and would always take care of you.

The blond snapped out of his thoughts, giving your drink one last stir before heading back to where you were sitting.

Your face lit up when you saw him and you stumbled from your chair to hug him. “Thanks so much Rafey!”

“No problem, bunny, how are you feeling?” The blond sat beside you and handed you the drink.

“‘M good i just don’t know where JJ is and none of the other Pogues have seen him,” you were slurring your words, hiccuping in between syllables. Rafe knew that you were already drunk the last time he saw you, but now you were on another level. “He told me he was gonna be here.”

You took a large swig of your drink, missing the frown that grew on Rafe’s face at the mention of JJ’s name.

“Fuck that Pogue, I honestly don’t get why you’re so determined to be with that guy.” Rafe scowled with disgust.

You reared back a bit at Rafe’s words, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Rafe, JJ is my friend. And besides, even if he was anything more than that, it would still be none of your business!”

Rafe’s face grew hot with anger, temper spiking when you talked back to him. He knew you were lying to him right now, he had seen some of your messages to JJ.

And it very much was his business.

You were his little sister, he had an obligation to keep you safe, to keep you away from people that would hurt you.

Not only that, but Rafe felt betrayed by the thought of you giving yourself to anyone other than him, but especially with JJ Maybank.

Rafe’s bond with you was deeper than anyone else’s in your life.

If anyone had a right to your virginity, it was him.

“I’m just saying, I’ve heard some bad shit about that guy, he sleeps around and leaves every girl he meets broken hearted. I just don’t want that to happen to my sister.” Rafe looked at you sincerely, trying so hard to convince you.

Your eyes softened, somewhat touched by the concern from your brother, but still annoyed with him.

“I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions and taking care of myself, Rafe.”

He just snorted in response, turning away as he laughed humorously, “sure.”

You took another swig of your drink and Rafe eyed you.

“Make sure you drink that before it’s all watered down, Y/N/N.” He wanted you to drink it faster so the results would be stronger. “Also… I have a little surprise for you.”

You looked at him curiously before throwing back another large gulp of your drink, “what?”

He pulled a small baggie from his pocket and you raised an eyebrow as he poured out some of the contents onto the table and began setting up a line.

“I like how you think Rafe,” you smiled, previous argument forgotten as your brother handed you a rolled up twenty. You sipped your drink again before you leaned over the table and snorted the line.

The burn didn’t last long and you could feel the coke mingling with the alcohol already in your system. You took a couple more drinks of your punch, but the sweetness was starting to hurt your stomach. Colors began to blur together and you suddenly felt really overwhelmed by the need to lay down.

“Mm fuck Rafey, I don’t feel great.” You mumbled, leaning against the larger man to steady yourself, not really understanding why the room seemed to be rocking.

Rafe chuckled at the state you were in, knowing that you only had a little bit more time before you would just pass out. “You’re tapping out already, Y/N/N?”

“I just need… to take a little nap,” you were stumbling over your words, barely able to focus on what you were trying to say. “I’ll come back to the party after, promise. Mm k?”

Rafe’s pulse quickened at your words, an idea forming as you wobbled and stood up.

“Do you need me to walk you to your room?” He asked innocently. “Don’t want you to fall over or get sick.”

Your head was spinning, ears ringing, but you felt really weird. You just wanted to be in bed, and you told Rafe as much before you managed to stand and walked away from the activity of the living room.

He didn’t follow you, just watched you walk away with a strange look on his face.

You practically dragged yourself up the stairs to your room, sighing as you closed the door before flopping on to your bed.

Drinking wasn’t something you did all the time, but you usually were so much better at handling your alcohol and you couldn’t understand why you felt so fucked up right now.

Time felt like it was moving differently. Head swimming, you felt like even sitting up might make you nauseous. You felt so exhausted and your limbs were so heavy. The bed you were laying on however was warm and comfortable. Your eyelids began to drift close.

They jolted open however when a ray of light entered the room and the door opened and closed. You could hear the lock click faintly and you turned to look at the door.

A tall male figure stood by the door, and you couldn’t make out his features as he walked closer. You weren’t sure who had just walked in.

“JJ?” You groggily slurred, slowly lifting your back off the bed as you propped yourself up with your elbows.

He didn’t say anything, just slowly kicked his shoes off before you suddenly felt his lips on yours.

You gasped against him in surprise and you felt his weight shift onto the bed before he straddled you and deepened the kiss.

His tongue probed into your mouth and you let out a moan against his lips at the feeling. His hand slid up your thigh, feeling your soft skin before trailing to your ass and lightly squeezing, and you both moaned into each other’s mouths.

You could feel his hard cock grinding against your core, the layers of clothing doing little to conceal how large he was.

You felt dizzy with desire, body buzzing from both want and the alcohol and coke coursing through your system. You knew that you were so drunk that you shouldn’t be making any rash decisions right now, but everything JJ was doing to you felt so so good, you didn’t want him to stop.

Even though it was dark and your vision was blurry, when he pulled away you could make out his blond hair and you grinned up at him.

“Please?” You asked, pulling at your shirt helplessly, needing to be skin to skin with him.

He understood your request, helping you lean forward before he quickly unlaced the corset. His large hands felt so familiar on your skin but he quickly undid the laces before you could linger on the thought.

After he helped you out of the loosened corset, you laid back against the bed, wrapping his legs around his waist and softly humming when you felt his hands on the soft skin of your breasts.

He caressed you gently, hands massaging lightly before he drew closer and wrapped his lips around one of your hardened nipples. You gasped at the feeling as his warm, wet tongue slid over the sensitive bud. You hands reached for his back, wanting to hold onto him and he hissed against your skin as you dug your nails into him.

As his mouth nipped at one breast, his hand trailed to the other bud, pinching and twisting it. You mewled in pleasure, already feeling overwhelmed by all the sensations you were feeling. Your hand traced to his head, tugging on his hair when he made you feel especially good.

He began to trail his kisses down to your stomach and you could feel your panties growing wetter with anticipation.

His hands found their way to your inner thighs, relishing the feeling of your silky soft skin. They traced closer and closer to your core and you felt your cheeks warming up when his finger lightly traced over your panties.

They were already soaked with your juices and he pulled them to the side before ghosting his fingers along your slick folds. You bit your lip when you felt him circle your clit slowly. You rocked your hips just a little, letting out a small sigh at the feeling of friction against your clit.

“Mmm that feels good~”

He swirled his thumb around your clit lightly, teasingly as he positioned himself over you, and you whined before he shut you up with another kiss.

You sighed loudly against his lips when he slowly pushed one finger into your tight cunt. He slowly curled his finger inside you, swallowing your whimpers with his soft lips.

The pressure between your legs hurt a bit at first, but the feeling quickly gave way to pleasure as he twitched his digit inside you, thumb still circling your clit. Every sensation was heightened in your drunken state and you couldn’t help but moan in wanton pleasure, begging him for more.

When his second finger slid into your tight warmth, you tried to snap your legs shut but his strong arms held you in place, keeping your legs open as he plunged his fingers into your messy cunt. You could feel his grip on your thigh digging in to your soft skin roughly.

He repositioned himself over you again and you felt his warm tongue starting to lap at your already tender clit. You realized suddenly that you had been grinding your hips against him as he fingered you.

The blond hummed against your clit, the vibrations sending a shiver up your spine. You grabbed on to his hair again, pulling him even closer to your pussy, silently begging him to finger you deeper.

His fingers were plunging into you faster and harder now, tongue still lapping at your clit and you could feel the pleasure building to a peak between your legs.

You bit your lip, trying hopelessly to stifle your gasps and moans. Your attempts proved to be in vain when you felt yourself be pushed over the edge, the feelings of him lapping up your clit as you came forced an embarrassingly loud moan from your lips.

Legs quaking, you squeezed your eyes shut and tears fell past your lashes as you rode out your orgasm, his fingers moved slower as you came.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, body already sagging when exhaustion rolled over you. You came so hard it almost knocked you out immediately. It felt almost impossible to keep your eyes open.

You felt JJ slowly pull his fingers out of you, climbing over you to kiss you again and that was when your vision finally came into full focus.

It felt like slow motion as you realized the man kissing you was not JJ, but in fact Rafe. Your stomach dropped instantly, horrified that your step brother had just eaten you out until you came on his fingers.

And you had loved every second of it.

Your confusion and shock clouded your mind so much you could barely feel his lips moving against yours. Time seemed to stand still as your mind raced, trying to comprehend what was happening.

You felt limp in his arms and the last thing you remembered before your vision went black was Rafe repeating your name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes snapped open before they quickly shut again, offended by the morning light streaming through the blinds of your bedroom window.

Pain throbbed in your head and you let out a soft groan as you pressed a hand to your forehead.

You felt sore, a fact you initially attributed to the amount of alcohol you had drank, but your blood ran cold when your memories of last night began to return.

A wave of nausea hit you with a pang as you put together what you remembered. Had that really happened??

It was so sick that you could barely admit it to yourself.

Did your step brother eat you out last night?Or had it just been some twisted nightmare, something brought about by stress and frustration with your older brother.

You couldn’t imagine Rafe willingly doing any of the things that he had done to you, it simply couldn’t have happened. He was your brother, and he wouldn’t take advantage of you like that, especially when you were drunk.

It didn’t make sense, Rafe was your brother. And yeah he had made his fair share of mistakes in the past with drugs, but to think that he could be so evil as to get you drunk and then violate your body, violate your trust in him?

It just wasn’t like the sweet brother that you knew.

The more you thought it over, swallowing your bile on occasion, the more you convinced yourself that it couldn’t be true. It had to have been a nightmare.

After all, you realized, you vaguely remembered your corset being taken off but you were still in it, and it was even laced all the way up, albeit a little looser than before, but you could have drunkenly loosened them before you fell asleep. Your skirt was still on, hell even your socks were on.

Nothing at all was out of place.

And yet, you couldn’t stop the nagging feeling in the back of your brain from telling you to not let this nightmare go so easily.

It felt ridiculous, but you needed to ask Rafe.

He was the only one who could tell you the truth, and as embarrassed as you were to tell him you thought that you had had a sex dream about him, you were even more terrified of the idea that anything actually had happened between the two of you.

Rafe was your step brother, but your parents had been married for years and as you grew up, you had come to think of him as your older brother.

You loved him. You trusted him.

And the idea that he might have taken advantage of you while you were drunk out of your mind was so unimaginable it would have made you laugh if it hadn’t felt so nauseatingly real.

You managed to pull yourself out of bed, reaching through your dresser to change into comfier, less revealing clothes.

It took you several minutes to muster up the courage to knock of Rafe’s door, and when he told you to come in, you opened the door nervously before stepping in.

He was laying on his bed wearing only his pajama pants and your cheeks flushed with shame as flashes of last night played in your mind.

Your mouth felt so dry, heart beating in your chest loudly as you tried to look nonchalant. You normally would have gotten closer to him, but now you felt anxious just to be in the same room as him.

“Hey, um, how much of the party do you remember?” You stammered out.

“I remember you tapped out early and went to bed 4 hours before the party ended.” Rafe’s voice was even, blue eyes calm and casual. He sat up in bed and it took all of your nerve not to flinch away from his movement. “We all took about 6 shots each after you left.”

This answer made sense, you didn’t remember telling Rafe that you were going to bed, but maybe he had seen you heading upstairs.

Still, it didn’t all add up. Where had JJ been? Why did he not come to your room after you asked him to?

“So… you didn’t come into my room at all last night?” You held your breath, knowing that his answer might confirm what you feared.

He turned his head to look at you, eyes unreadable, “no.”

“Oh, okay,” relief washed over you and you let out a breath you had been holding since you stepped into his room.

“Why do you ask?” Your eyes met his again at his question, his eyebrows were pulled together and the look he gave you made you shiver. You were finding it really hard to look him in the eyes.

“I just thought-” you stopped yourself, licking your dry lips and clearing your throat. “I don’t know, I- I must have had a dream you came to my room last night.”

“Well I definitely didn’t, Y/N.” He paused, looking into your eyes thoughtfully. “What happened in your dream?”

Your nerves flared as he stared at you expectantly. You didn’t even want to think about that dream, much less admit to your step brother that your mind had imagined him in that way, doing those things to you, and making you feel so fucking good.

“N-nothing, you just came by to check on me a-and I was so drunk I couldn’t get up,” your lie was punctuated with a nervous laugh.

Of course it hadn’t actually happened, Rafe had never been inappropriate with you before and you knew that he couldn’t possibly have feelings for you. He was your brother, the love he felt for you was the same love you felt for him.

Right?

“That’s sweet that you dreamed about me, Y/N/N.” When he mumbled out your nickname in his familiar drawl, to your horror, you felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach, and you lightly squeezed your thighs together when you felt yourself grow wet.

You couldn’t be around him right now. The shame you felt from your sick dream was all you could think about.

Rafe was such a good older brother, he would never try to hurt you. Thinking about him doing those inappropriate things to you that felt so good conflicted your emotions.

Everything about it was just so, so wrong.

You gave some excuse about going to get breakfast before you practically ran from his room to your own.

Rafe leaned back against his bed, a smug grin spreading across his face as he picked up his phone, clicking on his private camera roll before entering his password.

He selected the most recent photo, the one he had taken last night after you passed out, staring at your pussy with your legs spread for him, clit red and swollen. Rafe’s cock throbbed as he remembered the taste of you on his lips and the lewd sounds you had made with every curve of his fingers inside you. The needy way you had begged him to touch you.

He swiped through the others, you laying back with the corset off and perfect breasts exposed, nipples hardened. He loved the way you had gasped when he licked your nipples, he wished that he could have seen your face while he had fucked you with his fingers, but he needed the room to be dark so you didn’t know it was him.

Another showed you still on your back, his hips aligned with yours, his hard dick resting on top of your pubic area, allowing him to see exactly how deep he would be able to fuck you when he finally got the right moment.

And god was he fucking ready to split you open and take your virginity.

But he couldn’t do it last night, not so soon, not when you didn’t know it was your big brother pumping into you and filling you up with his cum.

Not when you thought he was JJ.

Rafe needed you to know when he fucks you that he was the only one in the world who could take care of you, the only one who actually, truly knows you. The only person you were really supposed to be with.

No, Rafe had been patient, and he was willing to be patient again.

He was the best older brother in the world, and you were going to be his, all his.

No matter what.

Chapter IV

#rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron noncon #stepbro!rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron dubcon #stepbro!rafe #rafe cameron fanfic #number one fan

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physics-of-one-piece · 14 days ago

Text

Merlot & Primroses (Doflamingo x Reader)

Chapter 3

AO3 link

Summary: Your husband’s brother finds you. Life with him and his sham of a family is as cold as the snow your husband was found buried in. You're going to wilt slowly living with Doflamingo, you’re sure. No flower can survive in such snow.

Tags: Female!Reader, Rosinante's Wife!Reader, Civilian!Reader, Rosinante x Reader (mentioned through flashbacks), Donquixote Pirates, Kidnapping, Gaslighting, Forced Proximity, Doflamingo's Comforting Skills are Non-Existent, Mentions of Fratricide, Grief, Angst, Post-Minion Island, North Blue Doflamingo, Red Suit Doflamingo, Touch-Starved Doflamingo, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Protective Donquixote Doflamingo, Adult Themes

Word Count: 11.5k

A/N: I am so fckn nervous about this chapter it makes me anxious as hell. If there are any mistakes, pls do let me know. On a happier note... The Donquixote Pirates are here at last! 🦩🎉🎉Also, I didn't think the DQ Pirates were all so tall - I thought only the executives were above 3 meters - but was I wrong. They're all big. Gladius, my hedgehog pufferfish punk baby ❤️🦔 Also, Doffy & Baby 5 in this GIF aaaaa he's such a girldad 🥹🥹😊😊 Thank you everyone for the support! 🫶🏻🩷🦩

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @moonbaby26 @daydreamer-in-training @queenmimi2817 @dummyduck44 @pinejayy @tellynojelly @capycapy-bara @dilf-destroyer-04 @yataidiot @orioncipher @isabeauwolf @r-amenegg @skullfacedlady @wrennyx @yan-love-reader @caldrien @rujellyroll @bonzaibaby @emilyfeetumbrella @ghostiequill @pipsterz @graceland321 @panthorastormheart @thesmolestsage @thesaltycrisp @hurricanebrownie @heroinicyfingers @t-sarah @aganhim @smol-flower-kiddo @vaniiiavengeance @sagyunaro @froggiewrites @doffyslittledove @7wanne @ohnomyhooves @tinycreature21 @aganhim @anime-fan-isa-art @fruity0salad @tavsianus @xblackxjackx @hime44444 @ripndips @shanalikeanna @multifandomgirl2018 @shirayuki-ayumi @misaneeragoni

“Diamante!” Doflamingo yelled, entering the top officers lounge room with sharp steps of his pointed shoes.

Corazon and Pica looked up from their reading material and toward the swordsman with an unspoken, ‘What did you do now?’

Doflamingo lifted his hand, revealing the pink magazine filled with adultery to Diamante, his tanned forehead covered with roads of his throbbing veins. Rosinante’s eyebrows shot up all the way up to his hairline, and he was rather grateful for his bangs. Pica blushed, hiding his face into the geology book he was reading.

“How many times did I tell you?” growled Doflamingo, throwing the porn magazine onto the coffee table. “Stop putting your porn magazines on Law’s study pile!”

“Well, he needs to study about that, too, Doffy, hehe!”

“He’s ten,” said Doflamingo, frowning at the man, feeling the veins on his temples throb. “I see any of your magazines one more time on his study pile, I’m throwing out your entire stash. I know where you keep them.”

Diamante started to sweat.

“Oh come on, Doffy,” Diamante said, “they’re all going to grow up eventually. Even Baby 5. She’ll be taking picks of which man to ri —”

Corazon covered Diamante’s mouth before Diamante could put himself into an early watery grave.

Doflamingo slammed his hand on the table, making the entire wooden surface shake from the sudden force colliding with it.

Doflamingo growled, veins bulging on his forehead. Baby 5 and the words ‘having a boyfriend’, ‘suitor’, or ‘lover’ were banned from being spoken in the same sentence.

“Riddle with bullets!” squealed Pica quickly, sweating. “She’ll be taking picks of which man she’ll riddle with bullets!”

Doflamingo frowned, glaring at Diamante. Then, slowly, his mouth curved into his infamous grin.

“Exactly,” said Doflamingo, accentuating the word, smile sharp and dangerous.

“I’ll be taking this one,” said Doflamingo.

“Huh?!” cried Diamante. “H-Hang on, Doffy! That’s one of my favourite ones!”

“Shouldn’t have left it on Law’s desk, then, fufufu!”

As Doflamingo approached the couch to sit down, he tilted his head curiously at the magazine in his brother’s hands. “What are you reading, Corazón?”

Corazón jumped.

“Don’t keep them all to yourself, fufufu…”

Corazón rolled his eyes at him.

It wasn’t a porn magazine — which was a shame, Doflamingo definitely needed some new material, the models in his porn magazines were getting boring with similar physical features and poses — but a furniture magazine.

“Why are you looking through this stuff?” Doflamingo asked. “You want a new couch in the tea room or the study? An armchair in your bedroom?”

‘Just killing time,’ Corazón wrote. ‘I like reading through them.’

“If you say so,” said Doflamingo, not questioning his brother’s strange choice of entertainment at all. He sat down beside his little brother, spreading his legs to be more comfortable. “Oh, there are some nice armchairs…”

Corazón rolled his eyes at him, but Doflamingo’s trained eyes captured the slight movement of his brother’s lips curving into a tiny smile.

Doflamingo felt his chest swell with happiness at the sight of it. He’d buy Rosi some more furniture magazines at the port tomorrow. The magazines seemed to put his brother in a good mood.

***

You knew that at this point, your face had been squashed against the soft, warm red fabric of Doflamingo’s suit for what felt like hours, and you had learned exactly what Doflamingo smelled like against your own will.

Much like Rosinante turned selectively mute with Doflamingo, you turned selectively deaf. You stayed aware enough of his words as he happily — way too happily — told you all about his ‘family’. You hummed affirmatively when you knew you needed to.

“And that’s everyone,” said Doflamingo. “I know Lao G’s puns may sound...” He paused for a moment, humming to himself. “Repetitive, but he never sticks with one word. You have to admit, he has a large vocabulary. Large. There’s the g! Fufufu!”

“What about you?” he asked, his deep voice carrying across the clouds and sky like the loud voice of a god. “Any friends in Marineford? Or on that island I snatched you from?”

His long fingers moved, deploying more strings, pulling himself forward in a blast of speed, the feathers of his coat guarding your left ear from the hard wind pressure. His arm was squeezing you to him so tight your right ear was safely guarded by your right cheek being smothered to his suit.

“No,” you said, cryptically enough for him not to know whether it was a lie or not. You didn’t want to put anyone in danger.

“I see...” said Doflamingo, letting the words hang in the air as he flew over the sea. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be friends with everyone in the Family. We’re not as uptight as the marines and people of Marineford.”

You felt your brows furrow in anger. Marines and the people of Marineford were not uptight. You’d know — you grew up there. It was no Water 7, Sabaody Archipelago or Dressrosa by natural beauty, but it was the safest place in the world, and most of the people there were kind and always helped each other.

You opened your mouth to tell him just that, to tell him the marines were a thousand times better —

“Don’t,” came Rosinante’s voice, cutting you off before you could open your mouth. “He wants to make you talk, let you reveal personal information about your life by discarding it as worthless. It’s a trap. Don’t fall for it.”

You clamped your mouth shut, softly exhaling through your nose, letting your tense muscles loosen.

Something cold landed on your eyelashes; it felt fresh and chilly. It was a snowflake. You blinked it away, adjusting your neck to be able to look at the sky better. Snowflakes soundlessly descended down the sky. They twinkled and shone under the sun. A few of the white crystals landed on Doflamingo’s coat, littering the pink feathers with dots of white. More snowflakes landed on his blond hair and atop the white frames surrounding the red lenses of his sunglasses. They were swept away by the brush of wind with the next leap of his long legs, scattering to the wind. The entire colours of the sky turned frosty, dimming in the cold climate.

You were clearly travelling away from the edge of the Calm Belt bordering the island you’d lived on for the past few years. The few islands that didn’t experience the harsh, long North Blue winters filled with endless snow were the ones close to the Calm Belt.

“There she is,” said Doflamingo fondly, gathering your attention.

For a moment, you thought the ship was a huge flamingo floating on the sea.

The figurehead was exactly as Rosinante had told you when describing the flamboyant ship reflecting Doflamingo’s entire personality; a flamingo’s long, curved pink neck and head, the flamingo wearing Doflamingo’s red sunglasses. The flanks of the ship were covered with a layer of thick pink-painted oak wood carved like a flamingo’s folded wings. The front hull and back hull were made of red cedar, framed by white wood. The deck was surrounded by a white balustrade supported by thick vase-shaped balusters topped with a thick top rail covered with a thin pile of snow.

As Doflamingo flew closer to the massive pink vessel, you saw the white sail with a large, cerise grinning smiley with its left eye crossed out hung from the dark red wooden yards of the foremast, the large cerise letters DONQUIXOTE written underneath on the same sail. Above the two crows nests, black flags with the same jolly roger painted white waved high in the wind. The stern was shaped into a curved, pink bird tail.

The only ships that huge you’ve seen were the marine warships.

It was ridiculous, and yet, there was a certain charm to it. It was so pink.

“Numancia Flamingo,” said Doflamingo proudly. “My home.” He grinned down at you, and you felt your stomach sink in dread; you decided you liked it better when he didn’t smile. “And now yours, too.”

You felt like the chill of the falling snow entered your skin. Doflamingo called it home, but the closer you grew to the ship, the worse your gut felt, and what was once a cute ship started feeling intimidating despite its child-friendly design.

You saw something move atop the crow’s nest. It was a big blob of what appeared to you as blue slime. You stared in shock as you saw the large blue blob fall off the main crow’s nest and down to the deck.

Was that thing... That person that just dropped from the main crow’s nest looked like slime.

“We’re going down,” Doflamingo informed you, his musky scent and deep voice filling your senses.

With surprising smoothness, Doflamingo landed on the deck of the ship. The walnut hardwood floor of the deck was covered with a thin sheet of snow.

You watched in horror as the slime you saw turned out to be a large, hunchback man.

The slime is a human. you thought panically, staring at the hunchback man in shock and disbelief. The slime is a human!

“Welcome back, Doffy!” said the man nasally.

Despite having a hunchback, he was taller than Doflamingo by about half a meter. He wore a green bowler hat, and a pair of black sunglasses covered his eyes. His appearance was ragged and unkempt, with a long, thick beard; he looked like some sort of helpless beggar you’d see in the back alley, someone you’d stay the hell away from. A long, ragged light blue coat that seemed to be made of dripping mucus and slime covered his entire body and hunchback; the mucus constantly trailed from the hem; it was like he was a living slime. His broad nose had snot hanging out of it, which nearly made you gag at the sight of the size of the snot. He held a cane in his right gloved hand.

“Any trouble while I was gone?” asked Doflamingo, calm and authoritative.

Thinking it was over, you tried to get out of Doflamingo’s long arms with some squirming, but his gloved, large fingers dug into your shin, pressing into your bones. The sudden jab of pain made you wince, turning still.

“None, behe!” said the large man covered in snot, his thick lips pulling into a smile; his teeth were round with some spaces between them. All the hairs on your nape stood on end. Something in your gut told you how dangerous this man was, no matter how unkempt his appearance was; you knew better than to judge someone’s strength based on appearance alone. “We’re still on a stable course for Beliera.”

This guy must be Trebol. Rosinante had warned you about him the most. Trebol had been the one to give Doflamingo means of “taking revenge” and giving him power in the shape of a devil fruit and a gold plated flintlock pistol.

It must have been terrible for Rosinante. To have the same gun used to kill his father facing him next.

A swell of sadness filled you.

Rosinante...

You clenched your teeth, your jaw clenching as a surge of anger boiled in your chest. Sadness and anger mixed within you, the first for Rosinante, the latter for Doflamingo.

“Don’t underestimate him.” Rosinante once told you when showing you pictures of the Donquixote Pirates. “The mucus is just a way to hide how weak his body is, but it's hard to find it because of the mucus. That entire coat is made of mucus. He’s a Paramecia, not a Logia. If you’re gonna aim for him, aim for his face.”

“Good,” said Doflamingo, his deep, commanding voice startling you out of your thoughts. “Gather the Family in the dining room so I can introduce her properly.”

“Yes, Doffy,” said Trebol. He was much taller than Doflamingo, wider as well, taking up three times the space of a normal man.

You could feel Trebol’s eyes watching you behind his black sunglasses, and suddenly, you decided you could endure being in Doflamingo’s arms a bit longer if it meant not getting any closer to this creep.

“So, this is her, eh?” Trebol tilted his head down at you curiously, a smile that reminded you of leers of old men on his face. You forced yourself to glare at his sunglasses, clenching your jaw, frowning, trying to make yourself appear as angry as possible. Better to show anger than fear. “She’s cute.”

Doflamingo grimaced at the taller man. “You’re too close, Trebol.”

“Behe, sorry!” Trebol leaned his towering body away from you, and looked at Doflamingo, asking, “Will she sleep with Giolla and Baby 5 in their room?”

“No,” said Doflamingo. Slowly, he smiled, that devilish, unsettling grin, and patted the top of your head with his free hand; you stiffened up, since his hand was bigger than your head. “She’ll sleep with me in my quarters.”

You stopped breathing. Your heart stopped. You could feel the colour drain from your face, could feel yourself turn as pale as the snow on the balustrade and the figurehead.

No. No no no no no. Anything but that.

You went to open your mouth to tell him that you’d be fine sleeping in the bunks in the women’s quarters, but Trebol’s laugh cut you off.

“Behehe! She’s cute!” said Trebol. “Who’d think Corazón was hiding such a cute woman.”

Your skin crawled. Before you could stop it, you shivered. Between this creep and Doflamingo, you’d choose Doflamingo any day.

You couldn’t believe this. You were surrounded by pirates, you were on a pirate ship. This was a nightmare. Absolute nightmare. You felt sick. You were so terrified you were going to throw up what little breakfast you had on the deck.

Following your trail of thought, your stomach let out a small, low grumble.

Doflamingo turned his face down to you with a curious hum, slouching down to you, craning his neck, bending over you. He had no sense of personal space, and it seemed he wasn’t going to offer any of it to you.

“Fufufu!” Doflamingo smiled at you, the sharp smile chilling you to the bones. His gloved thumb rubbed your bare, goosebumped shin; you would have yelped, shrieked and jumped if you weren’t two meters high from the ground. “Seems someone’s hungry. Don’t worry. We made it right on time for lunch.”

Heat climbed up your neck, enveloping your cheeks. It was embarrassing to have your stomach growl like that near strangers.

Doflamingo headed to the foremast of the ship, under which stood a circular cabin. With his free hand, he deployed a string, opening the large wooden door. It was a navigation room and an office, full of maps and books. There was a wide tunnel of staircases leading below deck.

Doflamingo walked down the wide, wooden staircase to the underbelly of the ship. He turned into the first arch of the cabin doors, and swung them open, entering into the timber labyrinth of the first level of the ship.

Your jaw nearly dropped. The ceiling was about ten meters high. The panelled walls decorated with intricately detailed wall mouldings were painted a luxurious light blue shade of periwinkle, framed with thin, narrow, ornate strips of gold. On the opposite wall, between the portholes, ornate paintings of all styles and themes in golden frames hung every few meters. They weren’t normal paintings bought at a market. Your eyes widened when you saw a painting of the lighthouse at the starting point of the Grand Line. It looked real.

“Isn’t that Monet’s Grand Line Lighthouse?” you asked, staring at the detailed oil painting.

“It is,” said Doflamingo.

“It’s -” you started.

“Three hundred million berries,” said Doflamingo, smile wide and big, sending shivers down your spine. “It was stolen in an underground auction.”

It wasn’t just this painting. All these paintings were reported to be stolen over the last six years in North Blue. Some were stolen from rich noble’s houses, from auctions, from museums, from art galleries…

“You stole it?” you asked, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” said Doflamingo, still smiling, seemingly pleased you caught on so quickly. It was unnerving how long he could smile for. “That was fun. You should’ve seen how delighted Giolla was when Corazón and I brought it aboard — like I brought her the most precious treasure in the world, fufufu! I didn’t let Corazón carry it. It would’ve ended up broken on the street with him.”

“You like stealing, huh?” you asked him.

Doflamingo hummed. He tilted his head down at you, giving you another smile which made your body squirm on the inside.

“I like stealing beautiful things and making them my own.” he said.

You had a sinking feeling this wasn’t limited to objects.

Right as you thought this, Doflamingo’s right gloved hand reached down to your face. The suddenness of it had your entire body retreating further into the crook of his elbow. Your breathing picked up; you could feel your own terror in the loud thumping of your heartbeat in your throat as you waited for whatever happened next.

Doflamingo tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear carefully, curving it behind your earlobe. The tip of his thumb brushed along the skin of your ear as he did so. Goosebumps rose on the nape of your neck. Your chest felt hot, rising and falling rapidly.

Doflamingo’s browline creased in amusement, the neutral line of his mouth quirking up, curving across his cheekbones smugly. You could imagine his narrowed, scrunched eyes laughing at you behind his sunglasses. It seemed he himself was struggling not to chuckle at how flighty you were.

“You really are a little canary,” he said, smiling devilishly, turning from mysterious and frightening to dangerously charming. “Shrieking like mad and fluttering about, but when I pick you up...”

His gloved thumb slid down your cheek, tracing along the softness before settling under your jaw; your breath caught, and you held it trapped in your lungs. You stiffened in his arms, looking up at him like a fish pulled out of the sea. Doflamingo’s mouth curved wider, lips opening into a devious grin of white teeth, forming dimples on his cheeks. You could feel his satisfaction at being right, at reading you like a book.

“You turn docile and sweet.”

Doflamingo chuckled. “How cute.”

He lifted his gloved thumb from your face, releasing you from his invisible grip, lowering his hand back to his side. You let out the breath you’d been holding. Doflamingo chuckled darkly again, and started moving again.

There was enough width to the hallway for two people of Doflamingo’s size to walk comfortably without brushing shoulders. Crystal sconces hung from the ceiling, swaying with the sea’s movements, casting soft shades of light into the hallway. The polished, hickory wood floor was covered by a dark red carpet runner, muffling his steps as he walked toward the end of the hallway leading to another set of doors.

Was this really a pirate ship?

“Have you sailed before?” he asked as he prowled through the hallway, steps muffled by the red rug.

“Yes,” you replied, continuing to look around; the portholes were crystal clear, showing the movement of the ship as the sea swayed by. The interior of the ship didn’t look very much like a pirate’s ship. “With the marines.”

“The white-coats must have been so uptight, fufufu!” Doflamingo flashed you a playful grin, but all it did was make you shiver in fear. “You’ll have much better sailing adventures with me.”

At the end of the hallway was another door, this one wooden and more fitting for a sailing ship, taller than Doflamingo, with a porthole window; you couldn’t see through it. There were voices coming through, muffled through the thick wood.

Doflamingo opened the doors, and entered the room. It was the galley. A long, large oak dining table covered by a silken mauve tablecloth spread out across the length of the large room. The main crew of the Dobquixote Pirates, the Donquixote Family, were all satten on the table.

The greetings of “Young Master!” and “Welcome back!” filled the dining area.

You felt the way Doflamingo’s body relaxed, his usually squared, pulled-back shoulders loosening, his chest deflating.

He gave the twelve people a warm smile. “I’m back.”

Doflamingo continued toward the table, carrying you.

Shame flooded you, self-consciousness swelling in your gut. You wanted to hide your face from view.

Doflamingo was unbothered by whatever emotions rolled within you, uncaring, no expression on his face as he walked through the galley packed with his crew members, carrying you cradled in one arm, his hand under your knees, warm and large. You felt like a puppy who he picked up on a whim and decided to take home with him.

The Donquixote Pirates were all huge. The ones of a normal height were the kids. But even the oldest kid, Buffalo, was as tall as one of the elite officers, Pica. Even the only female officer, Giolla, was over two meters tall.

Having been married to Rosinante for five years and often working closely with him on translating documents and decoding messages for his squad and the rest of the Navy, you grew a new habit. Whenever you entered a room, be it your house, a meeting, an office, your eyes instinctually searched for Rosinante.

Rosinante was the human equivalent of a warm hug.

All you felt in this room was the lack of warmth.

It didn’t take you long to feel it. The remnants of warmth, the feel of Rosinante’s presence. It was the empty chair on Trebol’s left.

If you weren’t so struck with grief at the awareness of being able to still sense Rosinante’s presence even if he hadn’t sat on that spot for six months, of being able to identify it was his seat even though you’d never been here, you would have laughed and broken down crying.

Law wasn’t here.

The relief you felt at this realization was indescribable. Law was safe. He was free from Doflamingo’s clutches and influence. It wasn’t all for nothing.

You felt like the odd one out right now. All the people gathered here were much, much taller than you. Sure, you were used to hanging around with people of differing heights while working for the marines, attending meetings and formal events with Rosinante many times. Rosi’s own crew consisted of marines taller than you, but at least he had two crewmates below two metres tall with whom you could converse without having to look up sky high.

You were… the shortest adult in the room now.

Doflamingo reached the end of the table where there were two chairs, one already occupied by Trebol. He put you down, and your feet touched the ground at last. You unwillingly used his leg to stabilize yourself as the ship sailed over the sea; you felt the difference in footing from it.

Twelve pairs of eyes were on you.

The thought of running for the doors crossed your mind, and was quickly vanquished when Doflamingo settled his large, gloved hand on your shoulder, his palm completely enveloping it, your shoulderblade and your upper arm. All your joints stiffened.

“This is Donquixote (Y/N). She’s my sister-in-law.” said Doflamingo, speaking the surname with the same pride as he did when saying it with his name. “I’m sure Diamante, Pica and Trebol set out the rules before we returned, but I’ll repeat them again. I’m instigating the Blood Law on her. If anyone harms her, outside or inside of the Family, I will put them to death. She has no battle experience or any fighting ability. She’s a civilian, and a translator. Since she’s mourning Corazón’s passing —”

What an elegant way to say murder.

“— she doesn’t have to work unless she wants to. Be kind to her and get along.”

The replies of, “Understood,” and “Yes, Young Master.” went around the table.

Doflamingo removed his immense hand from your left shoulder, and your body slumped in relief. Thank the fucking seas.

You took the chance to look over at Doflamingo’s crew. They weren’t that frightening.

You gulped.

Not frightening at all.

You wanted to glare at them and say, “I don’t like any of you. I don’t want to be friends with you. I hate you all, and I’m going to kick your asses.”

That’s something someone brave would do. Someone like Wulf. He would probably say, “I hate each and every one of you shitheads and you better keep one eye open while you sleep because I’m going to kill you all.”

But Wulf had something to back it up. He had his Devil Fruit, his battle experience, his Haki.

All someone like you — someone normal — could do was wish you were more like your husband, or your husband’s best friend. All someone like you did was feel a thick tightness of terror surround your throat whenever you thought of saying something; it was paralysing fear. One pirate, you could act tough in front of, especially Doflamingo. Twelve pirates, all loyal to Doflamingo, ready to kill you if you put a toe out of line and did something to hurt their captain? Not a group you'd pick a fight with.

You might as well be a delicious little tuna fish thrown into shark-infested waters. Wulf could pick fights with everyone. You couldn’t. You didn't have the luxury of being reckless now, of telling them outright you don’t want to be in the same room as them. You couldn’t piss them off. You couldn’t attack them. You had to stay civil and avoid them. That was the best way to survive for you.

You were deep in the enemy territory, and your best choice was not to antagonize them and stay out of their way.

“Trebol, pass the chair,” said Doflamingo, gesturing with his chin to the empty chair — Rosinante’s chair.

“Yes, Doffy!” said Trebol.

The man grabbed Rosinante’s chair like it weighed nothing, and next thing you knew, Doflamingo had put it on the right of the empty chair next to Trebol; you jumped a little when Doflamingo put it down.

“Take a seat,” said Doflamingo, pulling out the chair for you. You found yourself sitting down in a mere moment, listening to him without realising it.

Doflamingo sat down on the chair on your left, took the napkin beside his plate, and tucked the napkin into his collar to protect his suit and tie. He took off his gloves and put them in the pockets of his merlot suit pants, revealing his long, smooth, tanned, puppeteering fingers. The sight of them filled you with a terrible sense of helplessness.

He put you on your husband’s empty seat. Talk about a bullet to the gut. A bullet to the gut would have hurt less.

If I don’t punch this bastard in the face at least once in my life, then I have failed as a human being. you thought, glaring at Doflamingo.

You nervously eyed the table. None of Doflamingo’s crew was too heavily eyeing you. Good. The more they ignored you, the easier your life would be.

Talk about being satten between two boulders. Doflamingo was sitting at the head and center of the table with you sitting on his right. Diamante, the tallest of the crew at five meters tall, looming two meters taller than Doflamingo, was on your right, on the first seat on the length of the table. At least Diamante wasn’t as broad in shoulders and torso as Doflamingo was, and you had plenty of space to dine comfortably. In fact, Diamante was slender and lanky all around; he reminded you of those slender, long-limbed rock singers you watched on the projector snail, who wore face makeup and had long hair. He looked like he could fit right into a rock band as an electric guitarist.

Pica, who sat on Diamante’s right, was the complete opposite. He was huge, like a human boulder, with a hulking frame and incredibly muscular body; his arms were thicker than the width of your head. His lavender hair was much like Diamante’s; wavy and long, hanging down to his shoulders. The golden, three-spiked shoulder guards covering his shoulders made you shiver.

You felt sweat coat your palms. This was bad. You were surrounded by the strongest people in the crew and Doflamingo. There was no slipping away.

Well… there was always the dive under the table and try to make it out before they catch you idea.

The servants came in, carrying plates of appetizers. Doflamingo called one of the maids over with a wave of his hand.

“Take these to my cabin,” Doflamingo ordered, taking the bouquet of primroses from where it laid in your lap; the action was so sudden it made you jump when the flowers suddenly disappeared. “Put them on my office desk.”

“Yes, sir,” said the servant, carefully taking the bouquet, mindful not to touch Doflamingo while doing so. Doflamingo didn’t even look in the woman’s way, as though she didn’t even exist.

You frowned. A royal through and through, this brother of yours, Rosinante.

That commanding, overpowering tone of Doflamingo’s sent chills down your spine. It was clear Doflamingo was used to ordering people around and grew up doing it; he expected people to obey him.

Rosinante was completely different. He was always polite with all the staff wherever he went, speaking politely to them, thanking them for their help and work.

For appetisers, the servants served deviled eggs topped with shrimps.

Deviled eggs — how ironic. The devil was literally sitting on your left. You grabbed your fork and stabbed through the shrimp and the hard-boiled egg, and took a careful bite, neither too big or too small. The tastes mixed together pleasantly; eggs, shrimps, mustard, mayonnaise, garlic, paprika and salt.

Beside you, Doflamingo did the same thing, eating the deviled eggs slowly, picking them off one by one. Unlike you, who got six of them, Doflamingo got twelve, but he was picking them off at a slower pace than you were.

That was weird.

Wait… how many pancakes did you put on that plate?

Ten? No, the pile was taller than ten…

Of course. The pink-feathered idiot’s stuffed himself full of pancakes, of course he can’t eat more right now!

He really is Rosi’s brother! Rosinante did the same thing once. Once, and never again. For a reason.

And here you thought Doflamingo was supposed to be the smarter one.

These Donquixote brothers and their eyes bigger than their stomachs!

Furrowing your brows, you reached out with your foot and tapped the side of Doflamingo’s dress boot. He shifted slightly, then turned his head toward you, that cold expression on his face momentarily frightening you. He leaned his head down to you.

“You ate more than ten pancakes, didn’t you?” you whispered to him.

Doflamingo’s lips curled; whether he was amused by the frightening effect his presence had on you or your question, you couldn’t tell.

“So?” he asked.

“So, you won’t be able to eat much.” you said, voice steadier now. “Pancakes are filling.”

Doflamingo merely smirked, guiltless and arrogant, patting his red suit where his stomach was happily. “That they were, fufufufu!”

You counted to five inside your head not to snap at him.

“You won’t be able to eat,” you said.

“You underestimate my appetite.” said Doflamingo, smirking confidently.

Rosinante said the same thing. Then he overate, eating a full serving of thirty pancakes. And ended up sleeping the rest of the day away.

Doflamingo leaned back from you and went back to the food.

“Is the food not good, Doffy?” asked Diamante.

“No,” said Doflamingo calmly. “The food is fine. I already ate. My sister-in-law here made me pancakes.”

This fucking pancake-thieving, lying —

“Pancakes, you say?” asked Diamante, tossing four deviled eggs into his massive mouth. “She made you pancakes?”

Doflamingo simply grinned like a child who got the best candy.

“I didn’t make them for him. Your captain stole them.” you said, unable to take it anymore. The last thing you wanted was for these criminals to think you could be stepped on, that Doflamingo managed to scare you into making him pancakes, or worse, that you offered them to him.

Diamante chuckled. “Free food is free food, missus.”

“They were delicious. Best pancakes I ever had.” said Doflamingo, chuckling like a giddy child who didn’t regret his actions at all; except his voice was deep as the sea and not the innocent squeak of a child. It made your insides squirm fearfully.

You frowned at him, hating how flippant he was about it, how casual. You could tell Doflamingo was never disciplined for anything he did — ever — in his entire life. It was frightening, because that meant he would do whatever he wanted to do, which made him incredibly unpredictable.

“Well, now I want some.” said Diamante, and you felt your entire body tense up like a cat’s. You didn’t want to make pancakes for Doflamingo, and you certainly didn’t want to make pancakes for any of his crew, for the people who hurt your husband.

Because there was no way Rosinante would have gotten killed in a one on one fight against Doflamingo. He’d have gotten away. He wouldn’t have gotten killed.

“Sure,” said Doflamingo, chuckling, not even asking for your opinion, whether you wanted to make a bastard like Diamante the pancakes you only made for your friends and family — for Rosinante. “I’ll have the chef show her around the kitchen tomorrow and help her out.”

You wonder why on earth you would need help from the ship’s chef or cooks to make something as simple as pancakes, but after a moment, it dawned on you. They wouldn’t be there to help you out. They’d be there to watch you, to make sure you don’t poison the food.

It was slightly insulting to you, really. To you, food was something sacred, something that shouldn’t be used to kill people with. You’d never poison food, not after spending so much time making it. You never really thought of that. You haven’t thought about hurting Doflamingo in the ways assassins would.

In truth, you wouldn’t dare.

You looked at Doflamingo. Here, eating with his crew, conversing with them, he looked almost friendly. Almost... harmless.

It terrified you, how harmless Doflamingo looked while dining with his ‘family’. Just an hour ago, he was the materialisation of a villain, sitting on your couch with a ruthless, cold look on his face, sneering at you. Now Doflamingo looked warm, comforting, like a family man.

After the plates were clear - Doflamingo gave the leftovers on his plate to Diamante “Well, if you insist!” What the hell? Does Diamante have some sort of need for affirmation of his greatness? - the servants picked them up.

It all felt so regal and peaceful, so unlike what you expected of pirates. Most of them were still messy eaters, such as Diamante and Trebol, and Buffalo was no better, either. But people like Giolla, Gladius, Pica and Señor Pink were nothing short of neat eaters. Doflamingo ate differently in public than Rosinante did. When eating in public, Rosinante always dove into his plate, hunching over it protectively, eating as fast as possible. You knew why. It always broke your heart. After Rosinante told you of his two years of childhood with his family in the North Blue, it made you realise that Rosinante did his best not to show you that part of himself on the first few dates because he was ashamed of it.

Doflamingo ate like royalty, like a king. It was so obvious he had a noble upbringing it was funny. The way he cut his food, the way he stabbed it with a fork, the way he brought the fork in his mouth, and how he made next to no sounds while chewing, keeping his mouth closed, and the tissue in his collar and over his lap. Most people wouldn’t notice it. But you got to see Rosinante eat when he was relaxed, when he was alone with you, not in public when his ‘eat as much as you can or someone might take it from you’ instinct won over. And he ate alone with you in the exact same way as Doflamingo was doing now. With grace and elegance only high nobles had.

You remembered how you gawked at Rosinante the first time you saw him like that — the first time he invited you over for dinner at his place — unable not to feel awed by simply watching such a beautiful, mannered man with his head held high and lanky frame straight and relaxed, eat the food you two made together. Eventually, over the years, Rosinante got more comfortable eating in public and not rushing (though he did still take a lot on his first serving during public events like barbeques in case all the meat and burgers were gone by the time he wanted seconds) letting himself enjoy the food and savour it.

The public meals you hosted — and all the public parties you and Rosinante were invited to on the island — always had enough for endless servings. You made sure of that.

The main dish was baked sausage and cheese rigatoni; pasta and sausage with thick, melty ricotta and provolone cheese baked through and crisped and crusty on top, served in a deep, large baking dish.

You always gave Rosinante five times the size of a normal portion, and every time, he was over the moon. Rosi always ate everything on his plate, and always asked for seconds and thirds. It made you worry you weren’t giving him big enough portions, but Rosi later confessed that he ate so much because it was so good he couldn’t physically stop eating.

The moment Rosinante patted his stomach and said with a happy sigh, “I’m full!” you were overjoyed. Rosinante worked hard while undercover, and you wanted to always welcome him with a meal, to take care of him as he took care of you. If you ever missed his return — sometimes he arrived late — you made sure to get up early to prepare him pancakes.

The same pancakes you prepared for yourself in an attempt to comfort yourself.

The same pancakes Doflamingo devoured after breaking into your house.

Doflamingo, Trebol, Diamante and Pica got their own rigatoni in jumbo sized baking dishes placed in front of them. It didn’t surprise you they got entire servings for themselves; they required much more calories and nutrients than normal-sized people.

You picked up your fork and knife and started eating.

Fuck, this is delicious.

Eating beside Doflamingo felt like eating beside a lion. The last thing you wanted to risk was bumping elbows with him. You also knew you couldn’t curl your body in and take as little space as possible. It would make you appear weak. You decided to sit as casually, as normally, as possible with the pink demon sitting beside you, the feathers of his coat brushing your elbows as you ate, forcing the food into your mouth.

Doflamingo looked like a chipmunk with his mouth full and cheeks puffed out — much like Rosinante.

If you didn’t look above his chin, if you focused on just his jawline and the curve of his chin from his side profile, if not for Doflamingo’s tanned skin, you would definitely expect Rosinante’s features to materialise up above, his brown eyes instead of Doflamingo’s red sunglasses, his curly tufts of blond hair over his ears rather than spiked-back blond hair revealing the ears completely, one earring dangling from each.

You shook your head off of the image, blinking away the image of Rosinante, your vision shifting back to reality.

That’s Doflamingo. Not Rosinante.

“Figured out the parts of me more attractive than my brother’s or do you want a closer look, darling?” Doflamingo asked, startling you.

You stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Doflamingo wasn’t even looking in your direction. You didn’t realise he noticed you looking at him.

How could you realise? All his sunglasses revealed were what he was looking at, and sometimes, such as now, it wasn’t even that, because his red-orange lenses were reflecting the way his face was turned, the length of the table, the room. But in truth, his eyes were on you.

“No, thank you.” you said simply, and returned back to eating. It wasn't that Doflamingo wasn’t handsome. He is. But he is the sort of handsome man that was bad news for women. The macho sort of man oozing with masculinity. The dangerous sort of man, the one who could command an entire country, the one with so much pride it could overflow the Grand Line. Some women were attracted to that. You preferred gentle, honest men who wore their heart on their sleeve over dangerous ones who barely communicated, who gave you cold looks, and you won’t even get started with those men’s hearts.

Absolute nightmare.

You heard Doflamingo huff an amused breath through his nose, the line of his mouth quirking into a curve of an arrogant smirk. He chuckled. The sound sent goosebumps up your spine.

“Tough woman, isn’t she?” you heard Doflamingo say to Trebol.

“You’re definitely more handsome, Doffy, behehe!” Trebol said.

You continued chewing in silence.

Wine started pouring all across the table.

All of the wine bottles were dark green, with the same label name Petrus on the middle of their label. They were one of the expensive red wines in the Grand Line. It was the sort of wine you saw Fleet Admiral Sengoku sip at when he had dinner with you and Rosinante.

Doflamingo took the bottle in front of him, and poured the dark red liquid into his glass of wine, filling more than half of it with the rich red wine. It was the same colour as his suit.

Then, Doflamingo’s large hand holding the wine bottle extended to your glass, clearly intending to pour the wine for you.

Your heart dropped to your stomach.

Oh, hell no. Hell to the One Piece no.

You snatched your glass into your hand and pulled it toward yourself, meeting his feigned innocent face with a firm, hard glare.

You reached forward and grabbed the jug of orange juice, and poured yourself a full cup into the wine bottle beside your plate. Once you poured enough of the orange juice, you placed the jug back onto its place on the table with a firm thud.

Doflamingo scowled, as though you’d hurt him, then turned back to his glass, and poured himself more wine, continuing to scowl.

That’s right. Drink your tantrum away, asshole. Get alcohol poisoning, see if I care. Oh, boohoo, I can’t pour wine while sneaking some drug into my sister-in-law’s glass, poor me. Fuck. You.

After Doflamingo poured his wine, he slammed the bottle down with a resounding, loud, rattling THUD! The table wobbled, shaking from the impact, as though an earthquake hit it.

You jumped in your seat, flinching violently. Some of the officers were startled as well, slowing down in their dining. The blond toddler with a fin on his back clutched onto Giolla’s orange dress, looking more worried for you than scared of Doflamingo.

That was fine. You were scared enough.

Your heart beating in your ears, you moved your eyes up to Doflamingo, holding your breath in your lungs. Doflamingo was looking at you, his forehead and browline scrunched, his anger leaking out of him in silent waves, all directed at you. Veins throbbed along the length of his thick neck, his jaw clenched.

You realised you were trembling.

Diamante snickered at you.

You clenched your teeth. Unbelievable.

Damn it. Fuck. Damn it.

You’re shaking… just from that? What the hell is wrong with you? You’re the wife of a Navy commander. You shouldn’t show fear, especially in front of pirates.

You pressed your fingers deep into your thigh, hoping the pain would force your body into settling down. Breathe. You had to breathe.

You breathed in, and breathed out.

You broke eye contact, looking away from Doflamingo, metaphorically backing down and submitting. The thick, suffocating air bearing down on you slowly retreated.

“Next time you do that, it will be your head smashing on that table, Corazón’s little wife.” said Diamante, while Doflamingo looked at you with his mputh downturned, forehead furrowed, his face cold and heartless. He looked like he was going to kill you in cold blood just like he killed Rosinante. “Doffy can crack your skull open if he wants to.”

“Diamante,” said Doflamingo. The suddennes of hearing his deep voice filled your veins with ice. There was an outline of blood vessels forming on his forehead. “Enough. How I deal with my sister-in-law is up to me. She’s already terrified enough as it is. Play nice.”

“Of course, Doffy,” said Diamante. “I was just giving her friendly advice.”

Doflamingo went back to eating.

You made sure to empty your plate. You felt like Doflamingo was intently watching you eat, and you could feel that he wanted you to eat everything on your plate. Doflamingo finished half of his meal, and as he did with the deviled eggs, offered the leftovers for Diamante to eat.

It reminded you of a master giving his uneaten leftovers to his dogs.

The main dishes were taken away and the dessert came. You felt your traitorous mouth water at the sight. It was a chocolate souffle, covered in chocolate syrup.

Doflamingo waved the server away when they wanted to place his plate in front of him.

You fought back a smirk. Those pancakes are finally hitting, huh?

“I’ll take his,” you said with far too much enthusiasm, smiling at the server. “Can’t waste it, can we?”

The server glanced nervously at Doflamingo, asking for permission.

“Give it to her,” commanded Doflamingo frigidly.

“Y-Yes, sir,” stuttered the server. He placed the second plate in front of yours.

“Thank you,” you said politely to the server, with a lot of satisfaction.

Doflamingo stared at you intensely. Especially so as you hummed, lifting your spoon and taking a large spoonful of the delicious souffle.

You ignored him and started devouring the souffle. It was delicious like the rest of the meals.

You felt the weight of Doflamingo’s presence shifting. He leaned over to you, resting his long forearm on the table, more of the pink feathers of his coat gathering against your left thigh.

This time, you did look. You wished you didn’t. Doflamingo was leaning over you like a bird of prey towering over a mouse, his neck and spine bent.

Doflamingo’s large tongue slipped out, licking along his lips hungrily. He continued hovering over your meal like a lion patiently waiting for the lioness to be done eating so he could have a taste of the meal.

The way he was looking at the souffle… one would think he wanted to do unspeakable, lewd things to the poor thing.

Doflamingo lifted his face up from the angle where he’d been staring down at the souffle and looked right at you, his face relaxed, mouth curved into a close-lipped, wide smile, warm and charming.

You inhaled sharply, nearly gasping in shock. You recognised that look.

The Donquixote puppy look.

No. That can’t be.

You didn’t think Doflamingo was capable of that!

“Who do you think taught me the look?” Rosinante asked you; you could imagine him deadpanning, giving Doflamingo an unimpressed look.

That makes sense, but is also incredibly disturbing.

Doflamingo leaned closer, until his face was right in front of yours, his nose an inch from yours, that charming expression still on his face.

Your stomach clenched and squirmed. You cast your eyes left and right panically, but you could feel the heat of energy pressing upon you, the unspoken words clearly said by the expression on Doflamingo’s face.

Won’t you give me the souffle won’t you give me the souffle won’t you give me the souffle, just a bite, just a bite, won’t you be nice and give me the souffle?

It was too much. There was no way to fight against it.

You could feel the heat of the blush on your cheeks, could feel the strangeness in your stomach, the wide openness of your eyes, taking in the handsome man in front of you; the same reaction you had when Rosi had gotten in as close as Doflamingo was now, with his nose an inch from yours, with that pleading look on his face.

There was no pleading in Doflamingo’s expression, simply… pure, sheer charm. He looked completely innocent.

It was overwhelmingly charming. All your determination and walls crumbled away while facing such a look.

Damn Donquixote puppy eyes.

Not that you can see Doflamingo’s eyes, but you can feel them. The bastard was giving you his puppy eyes, or something like it!

There was no use fighting it.

You took two spoonfuls and put them on Doflamingo’s plate. He beamed like you just gave him the world, the dimples of his cheeks full of triumph.

Did you just get charmed into giving him the souffle?

Yes.

Yes, you did.

All Doflamingo did was relax, his face softening into a look of warmth, removing any roughness from it, and curving a close-lipped, charming, entreating smile onto his mouth, leaning forward until he was extremely close that one more inch would make his nose brush yours, and that was that.

It hadn’t even been deceitful. It had been an honest look speechlessly asking you to give him just a bit of the souffle, just so he can try it.

What the hell? What the fucking hell was that?! What is wrong with me?! What the hell?!

Doflamingo just… Doflamingo looked so…

Cute.

What was worse was... He wasn’t leaning back. He was still there. His face remained right in front of yours, that innocent close-lipped smile on his face.

Doflamingo was unabashedly staring at you now, and was uncomfortably close, his large hand resting on his cheek, his tall body lounging and... Enjoying the view.

The view of you.

It reminded you of —

Rosinante clung to your legs, his long arms wrapped around your legs in two layers because of their length. He was crying openly, his long body sprawled out across the floor as you dragged yourself — with a lot of effort because you were lugging a one-hundred-seventy kilogram giant that decided to flop down and not move — and the second plate full of ume mochi you made to the table. His feet covered in his donkey-themed slippers were so long they touched the end of the wall of the dining room.

You were starting to sweat now, losing your breath as you dragged yourself forward with nothing but determination. Rosinante was so heavy… It felt like a baby elephant laid down, wrapped its tusk around your legs, and was waiting to be dragged around by you.

Rosinante was always mindful not to put his entire weight on you, but he had no shame in using all of it against you when he needed to, it seemed.

Like right now, when he was begging to eat your mochi.

“I never thought I’d say this in our marriage, but…” You sighed, took a deep breath, and yelled, “Rosinante, get off of me!”

Rosinante was not discouraged.

“Pleaaaaseee!” he cried, lifting up his face to you; you froze at the cuteness you were faced with; soft, shining, warm brown eyes full of tears and a pleading, sweet, handsome face of a man who might as well be an angel. “Just a little bit! I can eat it, I promise!”

“Rosinante, you can’t have the mochi. You’re going to get sick from overeating.” you said, putting on your best stern look. “You’re going to get sick from overeating. You already have a stomachache!”

You couldn’t let yourself be influenced by your husband’s puppy eyes; he always used that weapon against you, and with Law sitting here at the table watching the scene in utter bafflement, you had to at least appear mature and not melt under Rosinante’s sweet face and gaze as you usually would. You couldn’t give into it!

“B-But...” Rosinante managed through his sniffles. “You made it... You worked hard on it... I wanna eat it...”

“That’s what you get for stuffing yourself with (Y/N)-san’s pancakes, Cora-san.” said Law with a blank, blunt tone that would make even the toughest marine feel like they got shot in the heart.

‘Cora-san can stuff himself with my pancakes and other things of me any time,’ you thought, but didn’t say. The smile that came across your lips while you had that thought might have betrayed you. Thankfully, both the man and the boy remained none the wiser, focused on their conversation.

“You’re so cruel, Law!” cried Rosinante, tears streaming down his face. Law sweatdropped at your husband's emotional reaction.

Law put another mochi into his mouth. He didn’t like umeboshi or plums of any kind, so you filled his mochi with black sesame paste instead, which he seemed to enjoy. You only made the ume mochi because you had to use up the leftovers and intended to eat the plate you were carrying yourself.

Your husband who had spent the entire afternoon on the couch digesting the thirty pancakes he ate had other plans.

“Look! He’s eating! He’s doing it on purpose!” Rosinante gasped. “He smirked! He just smirked! The little smartass smirked at me!”

You couldn’t believe your husband was fighting with a sick, small thirteen-year-old boy who didn’t even reach to his knees.

“That’s because Law ate his serving of the pancakes in moderation like a normal human being, unlike you, who ate five servings!”

“I couldn’t help it! They were so delicious!” He smiled goofily, dreamily. “And we couldn’t have wasted the mixture!”

“We could have had the mixture for dessert after dinner or put it overnight for tomorrow, you know this! That’s how we always do it! You let your stomach make your decisions for you!”

“Just a bite!” insisted Rosinante.

“No!”

“One bite, por favor!”

Law took another mochi, amused by the scene in front of him.

You sighed. “Rosi…”

“Please.” whimpered Rosinante, sniffling.

"Fine," you said, giving in. "But only one!"

Rosinante beamed like you just gave him the world.

Rosinante let go of you. Free at last, you took one of the ume mochi from the pile and gave it to him. Rosinante grabbed it and bit into the soft, mellowy mochi, chewing through it with eyes closed, moaning happily, lost in deep bliss.

“Delicious!” said Rosinante cheerfully, cheeks blushing a sweet pink, a big smile blooming on his face. “Thank you!”

And just by that face Rosinante made, you fell in love with him all over again. Your heart bloomed, butterflies flying wild in your stomach.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and cradled your husband’s face, bent down and kissed him deeply, wrapping your arms around his thick neck and strong shoulders, burying your fingers in his fluffy, wavy blond hair.

Rosinante made a surprised sound, but he recovered quickly, closing his eyes, kissing you back, his large hands sliding around your body, pulling you flush to his warm, broad, strong chest.

Rosinante hummed, smiling lovingly into the kiss.

“Really?!” asked Law, baring his teeth like an angry gremlin at the two of you. “Right in front of my mochi? Get a room!”

You giggled, exchanging one more kiss with Rosinante before parting from him.

Rosinante looked adoringly at you, his half-lidded brown eyes full of love.

“Stop staring at her like a lovesick puppy, Cora-san!”

Rosinante giggled.

“Nope,” he said playfully, continuing to stare at you lovingly, looking completely smitten, a goofy, dreamy smile on his face. You were starting to smile despite yourself, feeling yourself blush more and more, staring at your husband lovingly, equally enchanted by him.

“I love my wife, and I’ll stare at her as long as I want!” announced Rosinante proudly.

Law stared at Rosinante in what could only be described as disgust and disappointment.

“If I ever become like Cora-san, I want to be shot.” said Law.

“Hey!” Rosinante whined.

You laughed, burying your fingers in Rosinante’s soft hair, gently petting his head to calm him down. He settled with a grunt, resting his cheek on your bosom, closing his eyes. He squeezed you tight in the encompassing embrace of his large arms, his palms easily wrapping around your waist, his fingertips on the middle of your back.

You rested your forehead on the crown of Rosinante’s head, closing your eyes, basking in the peace.

“I can eat the rest of the mochi if you two are gonna cuddle, right?” Law asked, eyeing you curiously.

You chuckled. “Sure, Law. But no more than five mochi for you.”

“Yes, (Y/N)-san,” said Law politely. “Don’t worry, I know how to count, unlike Cora-san.”

Law smirked like the mischievous boy he was; it was adorable.

Rosinante peeked his left eye open to look at Law. “If I wasn’t having a great time on my wife’s bosom, I would sooo eat all your mochi, Law.”

Law made a face. “You’re a perverted klutz, Cora-san.”

“A happily married perverted klutz,” said Rosinante proudly, lifting his arm and showing Law his hand with the gleaming, golden wedding band on his ring finger. “And don’t you forget it.”

You laughed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Law’s lips twitch into a tiny smile.

Your heart clenched painfully tight. You turned your head away from Doflamingo, back to your souffle.

Doflamingo’s charming expression shifted, his brows furrowing when you looked away from him, when the blush on your face faded away as well as the reflection of him in your wide eyes.

“Young Master, you can have all of mine!” said Gladius enthusiastically.

“That’s fine, Gladius.” Doflamingo said. “Anymore and I’ll bloat.”

Tears welled in your eyes, clogging your throat. The need to cry was so great it was physically painful.

You can’t cry. You can’t cry here.

“Is she really Corazón’s wife?” asked the black-haired girl in the maid outfit. She must be Baby 5. Rosinante told you she doesn’t know how to say no to people asking her for help, and her entire purpose in life is to be useful. Apparently, Doflamingo found her starving on an island, on the brink of death.

“No way, dasuyan. I bet she’s Young Master’s secret wife.” You had to swallow down your orange juice not to choke on it, the sudden need to heave overwhelming you at the mere possibility of being married to a man like Doflamingo - that sounded like absolute hell. “He must’ve gotten tired from hiding her, so he finally brought her aboard to sail with us, dasuyan!”

“How romantic!” squealed Baby 5.

I wouldn’t touch your captain with a twenty meter pole. you thought, staring at the kids blankly, wondering whether they were really that ignorant.

“They’re pirate kids.” said Rosinante. “They’re stupid, vulgar, adjusted to violence, and have no filter. They don’t know anything. Don’t take it personally.”

You exhaled, and got back to eating your souffle.

“So, missus, where are you from?” asked Giolla. “North Blue?”

You gulped, feeling a heaviness settle over your chest. Telling them Marineford was your birthplace and hometown was suicide. They’ll tackle you and kill you the moment you say the word. Should you lie? If you lie, will Doflamingo punish you? He must know where you’re from.

No. You weren’t going to lie. Screw them. You were proud to be born in Marineford, proud to be the daughter of two marines.

“Head high. Stare right into their eyes.”

“Marineford,” you said firmly.

You might as well have thrown a live grenade on the table, because the chaos that resulted from that single reveal equaled that.

Diamante spit out his red wine, spraying it across the table and right into Trebol’s face. Gladius started choking on his meat. Lao G stood up and performed the Heimlich maneuver, helping the explosive man cough out the meat.

Doflamingo didn’t say anything.

“Seriously?” asked Gladius in disbelief, staring at you.

“Behe! I’m all covered in wine, behe!”

“You’re already covered in snot, though...” said Diamante.

“Behe! It’s so funny, I can’t help my nose running!”

You gagged in your mouth. You clenched your eyes shut not to see Trebol’s booger, turning your face away; you felt your stomach roll with nausea, at the edge of throwing up. That was disgusting.

“My parents were marines,” you said.

Gladius collapsed down into his seat, holding his head in his hands, moaning, “Not another one.” under his breath miserably.

“Are your parents still alive?” asked Diamante.

“They’re gone now. Killed by people like you guys.”

“By pirates, eh?” asked Diamante, and you were starting to realise why Rosinante called him a sick sadist. “Which ones?”

Sadistic pieces of shit like you.

“More dangerous ones than you,” you said flatly. “How many parries do you think you have in you before Mihawk slices you to bits?”

Diamante gaped. Whatever he had been expecting of you to say, it clearly wasn’t that.

“You had that coming, Diamante,” Pica said. Your eyes widened at the sound of his voice. Rosinante told you how high-pitched it was, but you didn’t think it would be this squeaky, like a balloon losing air. “You started it.”

“Behehe, Diamante got defeated by Doffy’s sister-in-law, behehe!” said Trebol, laughing.

“Shut up, Trebol!” yelled Diamante, grabbing an empty bottle. Your eyes widened, your body springing to duck in case the swordman threw the bottle at the slime man.

“Don’t throw glassware,” said Doflamingo, taking another spoonfull of his chocolate filled souffle with a spoon.

Diamante huffed, lowering the glass of wine. Doflamingo lowered his pinky. You caught the gleam of strings disappearing.

You could feel eleven pairs of eyes on you. Oh, there’s the weariness. About time.

“Calm down,” said Doflamingo. “(Y/N) isn’t a marine. She never went through training. Never applied for it, even. She works in the civilian service, in the translation and cryptography department. She knows almost all languages except Godly Tongue and Amazonian. She translated the contract of trade routes between Fishman Island and Marineford, as well as trade routes between Dressrosa and its neighbouring countries. She and her co-workers translated a lot of Arabastan books into Common, and even Flevan medical books, so the government and medical schools all have copies of all their research, just as they translated Common books into Flevan. I’m sure Law studied from one she translated among all his pile of medical books.” Your stomach sunk at the mention of Law. “And, she’s been one of the translators at the Reverie four years ago. She was King Riku’s translator.”

The entire table shifted gears at this load of information.

“What an impressive résumé!”

“Indeed,” said Doflamingo proudly, as though your accomplishments were connected to him. “She even translated the collection of Dressrosan Poems.”

“Fufufufu... speaking of translating... Did my little brother help you out with those?”

“Sorry?”

Doflamingo leaned down to your ear. His breath was hot on your ear. “Did my little brother whisper filthy things to you in Dressrosan or will I have to provide that, too?” His tongue licked his teeth; he looked hungry. “Because I’d be happy to.”

For the first time, you were frightened enough to physically defend yourself. Your arms shot out and shoved at Doflamingo’s suit, on his shoulders, hard. You shoved him away, getting him away from yourself, from your personal space.

Your face was burning. You were breathing hard from terror and disbelief of what he’d said.

Doflamingo laughed. “You’re so red, fufufu! Like a lobster. So cute.”

Doflamingo cooed the last two words, which only frightened you further. He didn’t take you seriously. Not you shoving him away, and not you being unsettled by his implications that no normal brother-in-law would say to his sister-in-law.

“Did my little brother teach you that?” Doflamingo had asked.

Rosinante taught you how to wield a knife, and how to throw it. He also taught you how to shoot, and the basics of self-defense. Your husband taught you many things, but he never thought to teach you how to handle missing him, how to handle this hopeless, empty void in your chest. You thought to fill it with something - the first emotions that came to mind were all for Doflamingo; rage, revenge, hatred. But Rosinante wouldn’t want that.

You didn’t want that. You didn’t want to become a husk of yourself, to make it easier for Doflamingo to manipulate you. Rosinante wouldn’t want you ten kilometers near his brother.

But what Rosinante wanted didn’t seem to matter anymore. He was dead, after all. He couldn’t help you.

“I’m teasing, querida,” he crooned, flashing you another of those vicious-looking grins that set you on edge that made you want to run and flee into the cold sea. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed. I do think they were very well-translated.”

His large hand reached for your face, taking your jawline into his grip with ease, the pads of his fingers touching the back of your ears, caging your head in his grip. He brushed his thumb along your chin, trailing it down. He put your chin on the knuckle of his thumb, lifting your head up to look at him. He smiled, smug and curved. “Romantic.”

Doflamingo removed his touch from your face, and your stomach deflated in relief. You didn’t realise you’d been holding your breath in terror, releasing it through your nose in relief the moment Doflamingo’s hand left your face.

“Pardon me, but do you mean Poems of Dressrosa Collection?” asked Giolla. “You translated it?”

“Uh… yes.” you said.

“Oh my goodness!” squeaked Giolla, the sudden energy in her startling you. “Young Master, why didn’t you say so before?”

“Fufufufu...”

Giolla reached down to her bag, taking out a leatherbound book; you recognised the cover of engraved roses, your eyes widening.

“Would you sign my copy, missus?”

What the actual fuck…

This day was getting weirder and weirder.

It would be rude to say no. Pirate or not, Giolla was asking you politely, and there didn’t seem to be any trick to it.

Oh, what the hell. Might as well.

“Sure,” you said.

“How did you end up translating them?” asked Señor Pink curiously. He was the only man on the crew who truly didn’t appear like a pirate, like he belonged there, with his combed hair and neat suit.

Rosinante had found out on his mission Señor Pink was secretly married to a civilian woman and your husband had nearly bust his gut laughing at the absolute irony of it all. Neither Rosinante or Señor Pink had let Doflamingo know about it, but Rosinante said unlike with him because he was his brother, Doflamingo wasn’t very interested in what his officers did in their personal lives as long as they did their job and put the crew first.

“That wouldn’t be the case for me.” Rosinante had told you. “He wouldn't leave us the hell alone if he found out. Which is exactly why I’ll never let him find out!”

And in the end, he didn’t. Rosinante took the secret of his marriage with you to the grave. It wasn’t his fault Doflamingo had his own spy in the Navy — it was the only possible way he could have found out, because you didn’t sign yourself as Donquixote in any of the published translated books.

“After the Reverie, King Riku commissioned me to translate them.” You shrugged. “They sold pretty well, I suppose.”

It was a very old book, and the author had been dead for five hundred years. They’d never been translated into Common until King Riku commissioned you - and by formality, the World Government - to translate it.

“You’re being too humble, damasu! They became one of the best-selling books from Dressrosa, shipped all over the world! They earned Dressrosa five hundred million berries!”

You felt uneasy. You didn’t like attention. Translators and cryptographers didn’t get attention, and you were very happy with your job because of that fact alone. You enjoyed supporting the marines and helping them in your own, stealthy way.

“That’s uh, nice...” you said. Giolla sent the book through the officers, and it reached you through Doflamingo.

You opened the book on the first page.

Doflamingo was peering over your shoulder with his unnerving smile. You could guess why. He wanted to know what your signature looked like. How you would write the letters of Donquixote.

Ugh. Great.

“You’re credited with your maiden name... That’s how you kept me from finding out." said Doflamingo.

Damn it. you thought. That sea king was out of the ocean now.

Knowing Doflamingo, he’ll now demand you write him a full list of every single book you ever translated in your career. You didn't even know all of them!

You signed the Donquixote as you did through the last five years of signing official documents and reports, with a bit of a curve at the q as you always did. You loved Rosinante’s surname. It was always fun to write it. You added a dedication to Giolla and drew a heart for her, because fuck it.

Doflamingo smiled.

“This is wonderful!” Giolla squealed, beaming left and right, holding the leatherbound book close to her chest, like it was a precious treasure. “Thank you very much!”

You weren’t expecting thanks from a pirate.

“Uh… you… welcome…” you said.

Doflamingo leaned down to you and whispered in your ear, “The worth of that book just skyrocketed, at least to Giolla.”

It seemed as though now that Giolla liked you, there was some unspoken stamp of approval among the officers. The entire atmosphere at the table turned less quiet and more light-hearted.

After everyone finished their desserts, small talk started while everyone digested the food. Soon, the officers started taking their leave. The children got second servings of the souffles and were busy eating them. You were absentmindedly still picking at your souffle.

Trebol leaned to Doflamingo and said something to him, hushed and for Doflamingo’s ears only. You felt your stomach clench the longer you sat there, with no knowledge of the layout of the ship, and no knowledge where you were supposed to go until it was time to head to bed which wouldn’t happen for another six to eight hours.

Doflamingo got up from the chair. Trebol and Diamante followed, and you nearly collapsed from fear at the sight of all three of them at their full height.

“Baby 5, show my sister-in-law to my cabin,” he said.

The devilish, curved, scythe-shaped smile bloomed on Doflamingo’s face as he looked down at you. “Help her get settled in.”

You felt like you were going to throw up all the food you ate.

Baby 5 beamed. “Yes, Young Master!”

“I’ll come and check on you later, little bird,” said Doflamingo. He bent down to your height and kissed you on the cheek.

Doflamingo gave you a smile; the sight of it made you nauseous.

“Welcome aboard.”

***

#doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x you #doflamingo x y/n #one piece x reader #x reader #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #op doflamingo #doffy #doffy x reader #doffy x you

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thejesterstears · 26 days ago

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I feel the need to remind people that The Gaslight District is not replacing The Amazing Digital Circus, Glitch is prioritizing TGD now that the pilot is about the drop and the two shows will be airing simultaneously so they will both start getting equal promotion. It doesn’t mean they’ve stopped caring about TADC, keep in mind this is an indie production company working on multiple shows and bringing many creators’ visions to life and that they’ll all get their turns in the spotlight. We’re just barely at the midway point for TADC so it’s not like it’s going to lose steam any time soon, we just need to be patient and not get greedy about it.

The reason I voice this concern is because there were plenty of Murder Drones fans who were angry about TADC “stealing the spotlight” back when it started and even blamed it for MD getting cancelled (it wasn’t cancelled, it ended on the creator’s terms—just like TADC isn’t getting cancelled for this, we are still getting the rest of the show). All I’m asking is that people please be respectful and patient as well as supportive of Glitch in this time. Let’s just be nice and enjoy our shows in peace, and please consider giving Gaslight District a look as well because it looks pretty cool so far.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #I’m only tagging this fandom bc the message is more specifically for them #not accusing anyone of saying anything but I was there for the md fallout and it was really frustrating to see #as someone who is a big fan of both series and is looking forward to tgd too I just want to watch in peace #jester tea

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amyzworldds · 3 days ago

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Part Two: From Classmates to Soulmates

Masterlist | Part 1

Y/N, a vibrant solo artist, and Wonwoo, the reserved Seventeen member, share a bond that blossoms from high school friendship into something deeper. Her chaotic energy clashes with his quiet nature, but their connection—full of teasing, cat photos, and unspoken sparks—grows through years of laughter and challenges, proving opposites can be inseparable. Pairing: Wonwoo x reader Genre: Fluff

The internet was buzzing. Fans who’d once flooded Y/N and Wonwoo’s old posts with “bestie goals” emojis now noticed the silence. No more candid stories of Y/N crashing Seventeen’s practice, no more Wonwoo lurking in the background of her vlogs. Instead, her feed was full of Jaehyun—laughing on Star Buddies, sharing smoothies, posing with peace signs. Hashtags like #Yaehyun trended, while #WonYN faded into memory.

Y/N saw the speculation but brushed it off. They’re just bored. It’s fine. But it wasn’t fine. Wonwoo’s absence left a hole—his dry texts, his rare replies. He’d gone cold, and she felt it like a winter she couldn’t shake. She’d catch glimpses of him on Seventeen’s lives, his quiet smile unchanged, but his eyes seemed... distant. Angry, even. At her? At himself? She didn’t know, and it killed her.

Wonwoo wasn’t oblivious either. Every Jaehyun story she posted twisted the knife deeper. He’d scroll past, jaw tight, hating how he’d let her slip away. Why didn’t I say something? He was mad—at her for pulling back, at himself for not stopping her, at Jaehyun for being there when he wasn’t. His members noticed too. Mingyu’s teasing about “Yaehyun” stopped after Wonwoo snapped at him one night. “Drop it, Gyu.” The room went quiet, and no one brought her up again.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N and Jaehyun grew closer, bonded by Star Buddies and late-night chats. He was sweet, attentive, everything a friend should be. But every time he laughed at her jokes, she’d think, Wonwoo would’ve rolled his eyes. When he let her ramble, she’d miss Wonwoo’s sarcastic “Are you done?” Jaehyun was great, but he wasn’t him. And that realization hit her hard—she didn’t just miss Wonwoo as a friend. She loved him. Not the safe, platonic kind. The kind that made her chest ache.

Jaehyun, though, was falling. He’d light up when she texted, save her favorite snacks, linger a little too long when they hugged. Y/N didn’t see it—or maybe she didn’t want to. She was too busy gaslighting herself into thinking her heart didn’t belong to a certain bespectacled introvert.

--------------------------------------------------------------

One chilly autumn evening, Jaehyun texted Y/N to meet at a park near Han River. She showed up in a oversized hoodie, her hair messy from a long day, expecting a casual hangout. They sat on a bench, eating kimbap from a convenience store, laughing about their latest episode where Y/N accidentally tripped into a foam pit.

“You’re a walking disaster,” Jaehyun teased, handing her a soda. “How do you survive?”

“Pure luck,” she grinned, nudging him. “And good friends who save me from myself.”

He smiled, but it faltered. The air shifted, and Y/N’s stomach twisted. She knew that look—too serious, too soft.

“Y/N,” Jaehyun said, voice low. “I need to tell you something.”

She froze, chopsticks mid-air. No. Please don’t.

“I like you,” he said, eyes earnest. “Like, really like you. I thought maybe you felt the same, but... I just had to say it.”

Her heart sank. Jaehyun’s confession hung between them, heavy and fragile. She liked him—his kindness, his laugh—but not like that. Never like that.

“Jaehyun...” She set the kimbap down, voice trembling. “You’re amazing. Really. But I... I like someone else.”

He blinked, processing. Then, with a sad smile, he asked, “It’s Wonwoo, isn’t it?”

Y/N’s breath hitched. She hadn’t said his name, but Jaehyun knew. She always mentioned Wonwoo—how he’d hate this spicy snack, how he’d love that stray cat they saw. It slipped out, and she never noticed until now.

She looked away, cheeks burning. “I... I don’t know.”

But she did. Admitting it to herself felt like jumping off a cliff—she loved Wonwoo. Not just as her best friend, but as the one who made her world brighter, louder, better.

Jaehyun chuckled softly, masking the hurt in his eyes. “It’s okay, Y/N. I see it. You light up when you talk about him.” He paused, then added, “I’ll be here, you know. As a friend, or... if you ever change your mind.”

Her throat tightened. She hated hurting him—Jaehyun, who’d been nothing but good. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey, don’t apologize for how you feel.” He stood, brushing off his jeans. “It’s getting late. Let me drop you home.”

“No, I... I wanna stay here a bit,” she said, voice small. “I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Text me when you’re home, okay? And don’t overthink this. I’ll be alright.”

She forced a smile as he left, but the moment his figure faded, the dam broke. She buried her face in her hands, tears spilling. She’d hurt Jaehyun, and worse, she’d hurt herself by pushing Wonwoo away. This park—it was blocks from his and Mingyu’s place. The realization hit like a wave, and before she could stop herself, she pulled out her phone.

Her thumb shook as she dialed Wonwoo. It rang once, twice, then—

“Y/N?” His voice was low, cautious. Weeks of silence, and now this.

She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a sob. She couldn’t stop—tears, guilt, everything pouring out.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Panic crept into his tone. “Where are you?”

“The p-park,” she hiccuped. “Near your place.”“Stay there. I’m coming.” The call ended abruptly.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Wonwoo didn’t think—he just ran. Heart pounding, shoes slapping pavement, he cut through streets until he reached the park. The night was cold, but he barely felt it. All he could hear was her crying, echoing in his head. She’s hurt. She needs me.

He spotted her on the bench, shoulders shaking, face buried in her knees. His chest ached—anger at himself, at her, at everything fading into worry. He slowed, catching his breath, and approached.

“Y/N.”

She looked up, eyes red and puffy, mascara smudged. “Wonwoo...”

Her voice broke, and before he could say anything, she stood and threw herself into his arms, hugging him like he might vanish. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed into his jacket. “I’m so sorry I stopped talking to you. I didn’t mean to—I just—”

He froze, then slowly wrapped his arms around her, one hand resting on her head. “Hey, slow down. Why are you crying?”

She pulled back, teary eyes meeting his. “I hurt Jaehyun. He... he likes me, and I told him I don’t feel the same. It hurt him, and it hurts me because I hate hurting people, but I can’t pretend I like him when—” She stopped, biting her lip.

Wonwoo’s heart thudded. When what? But he didn’t push. Instead, he brushed a tear from her cheek, his touch gentle despite the storm in his chest. “You didn’t mean to hurt him. You were honest. That’s enough.”

She shook her head, clinging to his sleeve. “It’s not just that. I messed up with you too. I pulled away because I was scared, and now you’re mad at me, and I don’t blame you, but I—” Her voice cracked. “Do you still want to be my friend, Wonwoo? Please?”

He stared at her, something breaking inside. Mad? He wasn’t mad—not really. He was terrified of losing her, furious at himself for letting it get this far. Her question, so small and raw, undid him.

“Y/N,” he said, voice soft but firm. He cupped her face, wiping another tear with his thumb. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She blinked, lips trembling. “Really?”

He chuckled, a low sound that warmed the cold night. “You think I’d let you ditch me that easily? You’re stuck with me, chaos and all.”

She laughed through her tears, a shaky, relieved sound, and hugged him again, burying her face in his chest. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too,” he murmured, resting his chin on her head. His heart screamed to say more—to tell her how her distance gutted him, how Jaehyun’s name in her stories felt like a punch, how he loved her in a way that wasn’t just friends. But not now. Not when she was hurting.

They stood there, her sobs quieting, his arms steady around her. The park was silent, save for the rustle of leaves, but to Y/N, it felt like the world was right again—Wonwoo was here, and that was enough.

For now.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N and Wonwoo were back to their old rhythm—or close enough. The park reunion had patched the cracks in their friendship, and Y/N, true to form, dove back in with double the chaos. She was a whirlwind again, flooding Wonwoo’s phone with texts, voice notes, and photos of every stray cat she’d spotted during their months apart.

One afternoon, she barged into Seventeen’s practice room, arms full of convenience store snacks. “Wonwoo! Guys! I got jjajangmyeon-flavored chips and those weird gummy worms you like!” she announced, dumping the haul on the floor.

Wonwoo, stretching nearby, raised an eyebrow. “You bought the whole store again, didn’t you?”

“Only the good stuff!” She grinned, plopping beside him and launching into a story about her Star Buddies taping. “So, I tripped on a rope during this obstacle course, and Jaehyun caught me, but I still faceplanted into a pile of balloons. Balloons, Wonwoo! I looked like a human piñata!”

He chuckled, patting her head absently. “Sounds about right. You’re a walking disaster.”

She stuck out her tongue but leaned into his touch, unbothered. The members exchanged glances—Hoshi’s smirk, Jeonghan’s knowing nod. Wonwoo was smiling again, his quiet warmth back. Y/N’s energy filled the room, and he soaked it up like he’d been starving for it.

Later, as they sat eating, she scrolled through her phone, shoving it in his face. “Look at this cat I saw yesterday! Orange, fluffy, total Wonwoo vibes. I named him Glasses Jr.!”

“Stop naming things after me,” he muttered, but his lips twitched, and he zoomed in on the photo. “It’s cute, though.”

“Right? I have, like, fifty more. Hang on—” She swiped through her gallery, narrating each cat’s imaginary backstory while Wonwoo listened, nodding like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Mingyu leaned over to Vernon, whispering, “They’re back to normal. Thank God. Grumpy Wonwoo was getting old.”

“Normal?” Vernon snorted. “They’re one step from holding hands and calling it ‘friendship.’”

--------------------------------------------------------------

But normal wasn’t quite normal. The spark was back—stronger, brighter. It was in the way Y/N’s laugh made Wonwoo’s chest tighten, or how her arm brushing his sent a jolt through her. Their hugs lingered a beat too long, their smiles carried a weight they didn’t name. When she’d fall asleep on his shoulder during movie nights, he’d freeze, afraid to wake her but memorizing the moment. When he’d adjust her scarf on a chilly day, she’d blush but pretend it was the cold.

The members saw it—Seungkwan’s eye-rolls, Dino’s not-so-subtle “Just date already!” when they bickered. Even fans noticed, old #WonYN clips resurfacing with comments like “they’re soulmates, fight me.” But neither dared speak it. Not yet.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Then, in early 2020, a storm hit. A blurry photo surfaced online—Wonwoo at a café, a girl leaning close, laughing. The caption? “Seventeen’s Wonwoo spotted on a date!” Fans exploded, some defensive, others shipping the “mystery girl.” It spread like wildfire, and Y/N saw it before Wonwoo could explain.

She was at her dorm, scrolling Twitter, when the photo popped up. Her stomach dropped. The girl was pretty—smiling, casual, someone who looked like she fit his quiet world. Y/N’s mind spiraled. Is he seeing someone? Did I miss my chance? The thought of him with someone else—someone not her—stung more than she’d expected.

She didn’t text him. Didn’t call. Instead, she pulled back again, slower this time. No practice room visits, no cat photos, no late-night rants. Her texts became polite, short. “Busy today, talk later!” She hated it, but the fear was louder than her heart.

Wonwoo felt the shift immediately. Her silence was deafening—worse than before. He’d scroll through their old chats, her absence a weight he couldn’t shake. The rumor? He barely cared about it until he realized she did. And he hated himself for not seeing it sooner.

--------------------------------------------------------------

One evening, fed up, he grabbed his jacket and headed to her place. No plan, just a need to fix this. When he knocked, Y/N opened the door, her hair in a messy bun, eyes tired. She didn’t smile—just stepped aside and shuffled to her couch, curling into a blanket.

“Hey,” he said, closing the door. “You’ve been... quiet.”

“Just busy,” she mumbled, staring at her TV. It was off.

He frowned, sitting across from her. “Y/N, what’s going on? You’re doing it again—pulling away.”

She shrugged, picking at her blanket. “I’m fine, Wonwoo. You don’t have to check on me.”

“Bullshit,” he said, sharper than he meant. She flinched, and he softened, leaning forward. “Talk to me. Please.”

Her eyes flicked to him, guarded. “I saw the photo. You and that girl. Everyone’s saying you’re dating.”

He blinked, then groaned, running a hand through his hair. “That’s what this is about? Y/N, it’s not true. She’s a friend of a friend—Seungcheol’s, actually. We were at a group hangout, she went to the bathroom, and some fan snapped a pic. That’s it.”

She bit her lip, unconvinced. “It looked... real. You were smiling.”

“Because she told a dumb joke!” He laughed, exasperated. “I wasn’t on a date. I wouldn’t—” He stopped, heart pounding. The words were there, heavy, begging to spill.

Y/N stood, crossing her arms. “Wouldn’t what, Wonwoo? It’s fine if you’re seeing someone. You don’t owe me anything.”

He shot up, frustration boiling over. “I wouldn’t date someone if it wasn’t you.”

She froze, eyes wide, breath catching. “What?”

He stepped closer, voice low but steady. “You heard me. I don’t want anyone else, Y/N. I never have. It’s always been you.”

Her heart raced, the room spinning. She’d spent months—years—burying this, convincing herself it was just friendship. But here he was, saying it, and it unraveled everything. “Wonwoo, you... you can’t just say that.”

“Why not?” He closed the distance, eyes searching hers. “I hate this—watching you slip away, pretending I’m okay with it. I let you go once, and it was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. I’m not doing it again.”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she laughed, shaky. “You’re an idiot. I pulled away because I was scared—scared I’d ruin us. I love you, Wonwoo, and not just as my best friend. I’ve loved you for so long, and it terrified me.”

He stared, processing, then broke into a soft, disbelieving smile. “You love me?”

“Duh,” she sniffled, poking his chest. “Why do you think I was such a mess about that stupid rumor?”

He caught her hand, pulling her into a hug. “We’re both idiots,” he murmured into her hair. “I love you too. More than you know.”

She melted into him, clinging like she used to, but this time it was different—raw, real. “So... what now?”

He pulled back, brushing a tear from her cheek. “Now? We stop being dumb. Be with me, Y/N. No more running.”

She laughed, loud and bright, the sound he’d missed most. “Deal. But I’m still sending you cat pics.”“I’d be pissed if you didn’t,” he said, and when he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, the spark they’d danced around for years finally caught fire

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The past years was a soft kind of chaos for Y/N and Wonwoo. From their high school days—her loud chatter breaking through his quiet world—to their confession that finally set their spark ablaze, they’d built something unbreakable. Now, as lovers, they were a study in contrasts that somehow fit perfectly. Wonwoo, once allergic to skinship, melted under Y/N’s touch. Y/N, always a clingy whirlwind, was now extra—draping herself over him like a human blanket, stealing his hoodies, and demanding his attention with a pout that could topple empires.

Tonight, they were at Wonwoo and Mingyu’s shared apartment, a cozy space cluttered with gaming gear, Seventeen merch, and Y/N’s stray hair ties. Mingyu was off filming some solo schedule, leaving the place to them. Wonwoo was glued to his gaming setup, headset on, fingers flying across the keyboard as he battled in some online match. Y/N, sprawled on his bed in one of his oversized shirts, was... less than thrilled.

“Wonwoo,” she whined, kicking her feet against the mattress. “Did you hear what I said? So, at the studio today, they tried to make me do this weird choreography, and I was like, ‘I’m a singer, not a contortionist!’ I swear, I almost fell on my face.”

“Mm,” he mumbled, eyes locked on the screen. “Cool.”

She huffed, sitting up. “Cool? That’s it? I could’ve broken my neck, and you’d still be like, ‘Nice, babe.’”

“Yup,” he said, clicking furiously. A victory screen flashed, and he leaned back, smirking. “Got ‘em.”

Y/N glared at the back of his head, then at his gaming PC. If that thing were a person, she’d have words. Harsh ones. “You and that computer are in a serious relationship. I’m just the side chick.”

He snorted but didn’t turn around. “You’re dramatic.”

“And you’re ignoring me!” She flopped back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m literally right here, looking cute, telling iconic stories, and you’re out here marrying your keyboard.”

“Five more minutes,” he said, already queuing another match.

That was it. Y/N had enough. With a theatrical groan, she rolled off the bed, snatching his blanket and—most importantly—Foxdungee, the Miniteen character plushie she’d gifted him last Christmas. “Fine! If you’re gonna be like that, I’m taking your kid and leaving!”

She stormed out, blanket trailing like a cape, Foxdungee tucked under her arm. Wonwoo’s room fell quiet, but he was too deep in his game to notice—yet.

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In the living room, Y/N flopped onto the couch, cocooning herself in the blanket until she was a burrito of pettiness. She hugged Foxdungee tight, its little glasses and fox ears squishing against her cheek. “Your dad’s the worst,” she muttered, glaring at the plushie. “All he does is play that stupid game. What about me, huh? I’m fun! I’m adorable! But nooo, he’s too busy being a nerd.”

She grabbed the remote, scrolling through streaming options. “If he wants to ignore me, you’re my date now, Foxdungee. We’re watching Barbie: Princess Charm School because it’s a classic, and you deserve culture.”

The TV lit up with Barbie’s sparkly world, and Y/N settled in, narrating to the plushie like it was a person. “See, Blair’s got dreams, just like me. And she doesn’t need a dumb gaming boyfriend to shine.” She giggled at a scene where Blair tripped, then sighed. “Okay, maybe I trip like her too. Don’t tell your dad.”

Halfway through Barbie’s makeover montage, the room felt... too quiet. No keyboard clicks, no Wonwoo muttering about “lag.” Y/N’s pout deepened. She missed him, even if he was a distracted nerd. She hugged Foxdungee tighter, whispering, “He’s probably still playing. Jerk.”

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Wonwoo, meanwhile, had noticed the silence. His game ended, and the absence of Y/N’s voice hit like a dropped beat. No chatter, no giggles, no dramatic sighs. He pulled off his headset, glancing at the empty bed. When did she leave? Guilt crept in—he’d been deep in his zone, but he hadn’t meant to ignore her.

He wandered into the living room, pausing at the sight. Y/N was a blanket burrito on the couch, Foxdungee clutched like a lifeline, laughing at Barbie outwitting a villain. Her hair was a mess, his shirt dwarfed her, and she looked so adorably grumpy that his heart did a flip.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorway.

Y/N glanced up, spotted him, and—petty queen—rolled her eyes before turning back to the TV. “Oh, look, Foxdungee, it’s your dad. Too bad we’re busy having fun without him.”

She hugged the plushie tighter, muttering loud enough for him to hear, “At least you don’t ignore me for pixels.”

Wonwoo bit back a laugh, her sulky vibe too cute to handle. He crossed the room, crouching in front of her so she couldn’t avoid him. “You’re really mad at me over a game?”

She refused to meet his eyes, chin tilted up. “I’m not mad. I’m thriving. Me and Foxdungee are having the best date ever. Right, buddy?” She wiggled the plushie’s arms, making it “nod.”

He chuckled, low and warm, and her resolve wobbled. That laugh—her kryptonite. “Y/N,” he said, voice soft, “I’m sorry. I got carried away. Didn’t mean to ditch you.”

She finally looked at him, pout still in full force. “You said ‘five minutes’ an hour ago. I was telling you about my day, and you were like, ‘Mm, yup.’ I’m not a podcast you can half-listen to, Jeon Wonwoo.”

He winced, rubbing his neck. “Fair. I was a jerk. But you know I love your stories.”

“Do you?” She hugged Foxdungee closer, eyes narrowing. “Because your computer seems to get all your love.”

He grinned, leaning closer. “Jealous of my PC? That’s a new one.”

“I will fight it,” she huffed. “I’ll smash it with a hammer and dance on the pieces.”

“Please don’t. It’s expensive.” He reached out, tugging Foxdungee gently from her grip. “And stop stealing my kid to make me jealous.”

She gasped, grabbing for the plushie. “Foxdungee chose me! You don’t deserve him!”

They tussled lightly, laughing until Wonwoo let her win, Foxdungee back in her arms. He sat beside her, pulling the blanket over both of them. “Truce?”

She side-eyed him but scooted closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “Maybe. But you’re on thin ice, mister.”

“Noted.” He wrapped an arm around her, fingers tracing circles on her arm. “What’s Barbie up to? Catch me up.”

Her face lit up, and she launched into a recap, voice bright and chaotic. “Okay, so Blair’s at this fancy school, right? And there’s this mean girl, Delancy, who’s totally jealous—”

He listened, nodding like it was a TED Talk, and she melted into him, her earlier grumpiness fading. This was them—her loud, him quiet, but always tethered. Wonwoo, who’d once flinched at hugs, now craved her closeness. He glanced down at her, eyes soft. How did I get this lucky?

The movie played on, but Y/N’s narration slowed, her head heavy on his chest. “You’re comfy,” she mumbled, nuzzling closer. “Better than Foxdungee.”

“High praise,” he teased, kissing her temple. Her hair smelled like his shampoo, and it made his heart do stupid flips. “Sorry I got sucked into gaming. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better,” she yawned. “I want breakfast tomorrow. Pancakes. With chocolate chips.”

“Deal.” He pulled the blanket higher, tucking her in. “But you’re not allowed to hog the syrup again.”

“No promises,” she giggled, voice fading as she drifted off.

Wonwoo watched her sleep, her lips parted, Foxdungee squished against her cheek. Barbie’s credits rolled, but he didn’t move, just held her closer. The world could wait—this moment, her warmth, her chaos, was all he needed.

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an: Hello! I've been receiving requests, hehe. Please bear with me—I'm a bit busy right now, but I'll get to them all. Just drop your requests, and I'll write them one by one hehe. I hope you like this! I feel like something's missing here, but yeah, HAHAHAH

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