#the aftermath sure is going to be. well it's going to be something

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter six ♡

Summary: Going through a hangover, two knocks surprise your door. Travis asks you to be honest, and Joel tries to get closer again. WC: 12.8k A/N: Well… today I'm feeling things. I hope you like it <3 remember that I no longer use the tag list, and if you want to receive notifications you can activate them on this blog or on capuccinodollupdates. Thank you very much for your messages and comments!!!!! Love youuuu

You lay sprawled on your bed, the warmth of the shower still clinging to your skin, your body humming faintly from the ibuprofen you’d taken an hour ago. When you’d woken up, sunlight had pierced directly through the blinds, straight into your eyes, splitting your head with a sharp, immediate ache. The kind of morning that felt punitive, though you weren’t sure what you were being punished for. But the water had helped. It always did. Steam rising, muscles softening, your skin flushed pink in its aftermath—a small gift you didn’t know you’d needed until now.

Sliding into your softest pajama pants and a faded gray cotton T-shirt oversized enough to drown in, you caught sight of the corset lying next to your boots. Something twisted low in your stomach. A reminder.

You remembered it as soon as you’d blinked awake: Joel. Joel in your bed. Silence wrapping around you both like a second, unspoken language. You’d cried, hadn’t you? Said something reckless, something that burned on the way out but didn’t feel entirely true. His face swam back to you in bits: the wet sheen in his eyes, the way he’d hugged you, close enough to steal your breath. And your words—you’d told him you hated him. That much was clear. You didn't hated him, he knew that. The feeling was raw and slippery, hard to hold. Surely Joel knew. He was always the first to claim he understood these things, always insufferably sure of himself.

Your gaze stayed fixed on the wall, though your mind wandered to Travis and then boomeranged right back to Joel, replaying the fragments of memory you had like they were clues in a puzzle you couldn’t solve. It was exhausting. You were exhausted. Eventually, you shut your eyes, not sleeping, but not entirely awake either, your body loosening as the pain ebbed and flowed. Your feet still throbbed, but even that felt distant, manageable.

Then the doorbell rang. The sound sliced through the quiet and dragged you back to the surface. You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to summon the energy to move. With a sigh, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, sliding your feet into slippers, and shuffled toward the stairs. Halfway down, you froze, heart stuttering in your chest. What if it was Joel? It made sense—too much sense, actually. Except, what if it didn’t? What if he wasn’t here to fix things but to remind you of everything you’d said and did last night? What if he wasn’t here at all, and the thought of him was worse than his presence?

You didn’t have the stamina for him today.

Still, you kept moving, your stomach coiled tight as you reached for the door. When you opened it, relief swept over you like a breeze. Travis stood there, eyes a little puffy, a wooden paper bag with Mcfly’s stamped across the front dangling from his hands. The smell—greasy, rich, tempting—hit you first. He smiled, sheepish, his fingers curling around the bag like an offering.

“Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse but warm.

You laughed softly, stepping aside to let him in. “Hey. You look awful.”

“Thanks,” he teased, his grin widening. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Hungry, apparently,” you replied, following him into the kitchen. “What about you? Any lingering regrets?”

“Only a thousand.” He set the bag on the counter and turned to you, his expression playfully contrite. “Throwing up dressed as Patrick Bateman was not on my bingo card.”

“Your puke was blue,” you reminded him, unable to suppress your laugh.

He groaned, covering his face with one hand. “God, stop. Please accept my apology in the form of food.”

You pulled the containers from the bag, grinning as the smell intensified. “Apology accepted. But seriously, Travis, it happens to everyone. Though I’d say chugging a Blue Elephant probably increases your odds.”

He leaned against the counter, watching you, his smile softening. “Lesson learned. Never again.”

The two of you settled at the kitchen island, the plates piled high with burgers that felt almost comically indulgent—brioche buns, bacon, fried eggs, stacked patties. Fries on the side. It was exactly what you needed, and the silence between you was easy, punctuated only by the clinking of cutlery and the occasional laugh.

At some point, you noticed Travis watching you, his gaze a little too focused, a little too heavy. It sent a ripple of awareness through you, and you set your fork down, your cheeks flushing before you could stop them.

“I had a great time last night,” he said suddenly, his fingers tracing the rim of his plate. “Even with the, uh, puke thing. I hope we can…you know, pick up where we left off.”

Your heart skipped. He said it so casually, like he was talking about resuming a TV show or a book he’d put down. But you knew what he meant. His hands on your thighs, his breath hot against your neck—the near miss. You smiled, leaning into the moment.

“I’d like that,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. “I have a great time with you, Travis. It feels…easy.”

“I hope that’s a compliment,” he teased, his eyes glinting.

“It is,” you assured him.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the doorbell rang again, cutting him off. You sighed, pushing back from the stool.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, and he nodded, standing as well.

“Mind if I use the bathroom?”

“Go ahead. It’s under the stairs,” you told him, already heading for the door.

When you opened it, the air shifted. Joel stood there, your name falling from his lips like a quiet invocation. Your heart stuttered. His eyes locked on yours. 

Joel stood in front of you, his posture deceptively calm, but his eyes betrayed him. They searched your face intently, as if trying to unearth some hidden answer you weren’t sure you even held. His voice, when he finally spoke, was steady but tinged with uncertainty. 

“I, um... How are you?” 

The words fell between you, simple enough, but they seemed to carry more weight than the situation demanded. You blinked, your response escaping almost before you registered it. 

“Fine.” Automatic. A placeholder for the more complicated truth swirling inside you. 

He nodded, his expression softening slightly, though his gaze never left yours. “I wanted to check on you. After last night, I mean. And... I thought maybe we could talk for a moment. If you’re up for it.” 

The now-familiar tingle unfurled in your stomach, subtle but insistent. It was Joel’s effect on you, one you could neither anticipate nor ignore. His presence always seemed to trigger some deep, cellular reaction, your body responding to him before your mind had the chance to catch up. 

You let your eyes wander over him, taking him in as if cataloging the moment: the disheveled state of his hair, the small strands poking out stubbornly at the crown of his head; the quiet intensity in his dark, swollen eyes, the kind that told you sleep hadn’t come easy. His sweater was black, soft-looking, and fit just snug enough across his shoulders. Below that, dark pants and boots that carried a scuffed sort of permanence.

He didn’t flinch under your gaze. He rarely did. 

“Sure,” you said finally, fighting to keep your voice steady. “I mean... yeah. I feel better now.” 

His brow lifted, and the corner of his mouth tugged upward in a crooked half-smile that felt almost involuntary. “Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Yeah.” The tension between you felt oddly fragile, as though one wrong word could snap it altogether. 

“Good,” he said, his voice soft, almost to himself. “Uh, so...when you’re ready, we can talk. Doesn’t have to be now.” 

“No,” you interrupted quickly, sensing his sudden retreat. “I want to. Just—not sure now’s the best time.” 

His eyes flickered, something like relief washing over his features. “Okay. Whenever works for you. Just let me know.” 

There was something in the way he spoke that made you pause—a quiet hesitance, almost submissive, so unlike Joel that it left you momentarily off-balance. Before you could respond, the sound of a door opening and closing under the stairs interrupted the fragile moment between you. 

Joel’s gaze darted past you, his body stiffening. “I should get going. Need to see Tommy,” he said abruptly, his words coming faster now, as if the interruption had jolted him. “But I’ll be back before five. If you’re okay with that.” 

“I’ll text you,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. 

Joel nodded once, and for a moment, his eyes softened again, lingering on you like he wanted to say more. But the sound of footsteps drew both your attention, and you turned just in time to see Travis approaching from the hall. 

“Hi, Joel,” Travis said, his voice light and oblivious. “How’s it going?” 

Joel’s demeanor shifted instantly, his polite but clipped reply sharp in contrast to the way he’d been speaking to you moments ago. “Fine. And you... regaining energy, I see.”

“That's right,” Travis nodded, a pleasant pout on his lips. “Never drink more than one blue elephant, trust me,” he teased.

Joel’s laugh was hollow, a noise that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not on my agenda last time I checked.” 

The tension was palpable now, thickening the air. Though you were sure the tightening thread was solely between you and Joel, and Travis had only moved in to tighten it even more. Joel’s gaze flickered to you briefly, searching your face, you looking at him almost as if silently imploring him not to say anything offensive. But he didn't seem to want to bother Travis at that moment, which surprised you a little.

“Call me later,” he said to you, his tone softening again but only for you. “Whenever works.” 

“I will,” you promised, the words coming easily, though the knot in your stomach tightened as you watched Joel take a few steps back. He hesitated for only a second before turning and walking briskly to his truck. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed faintly as you closed your own door, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. 

When you turned back, Travis was still standing there, his expression curious but unreadable. He didn’t say anything, though, as you brushed past him and returned to the kitchen, dropping back into your seat and taking a long sip of soda. 

Travis joined you a moment later, resuming his seat across from you. He picked up his burger but didn’t take a bite right away, his fingers idly picking at the edges of the bun. His silence stretched, pressing against you, until finally, he spoke. 

“So,” he began carefully, his tone light but probing, “how’s everything with Joel?” 

The question caught you off guard, even though it shouldn’t have. You forced yourself to look at him, your expression neutral. 

“We haven’t really figured things out,” you admitted, keeping your tone casual. "If that's what you're asking."

Travis nodded thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. “I thought as much,” he said, setting his burger down. “Saw him the other day at the supermarket. Didn’t say hi—he looked...busy.” 

You offered him a small, noncommittal shrug, hoping he’d let the subject drop. But instead, his gaze lingered on you, studying you the way Joel had earlier. 

“Can I ask you something?” Travis said, his voice softer now. "And please be honest." 

You didn’t blink, your body stilling in response to the deliberate softness in Travis’s voice. It wasn’t the kind of soft that soothed; it was careful, as if he was trying to handle something fragile without breaking it.

“Sure,” you said, your voice neutral despite the curiosity growing inside you. “What is it?”

“Listen, please don’t think I’m prying.” His tone wavered, brushing up against nervousness.

“I won’t, Trav,” you said, laughing lightly, though the sudden weight of his seriousness made the moment feel unbalanced.

“Okay.” He smiled, the kind of smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. It reminded you of a kid caught holding something he shouldn’t but deciding to risk it anyway. “So, ever since I moved into the neighborhood, I noticed you and Joel were... close. At first, I thought you were together. Ian even confirmed that you were just friends, but for a while, I didn’t quite believe it. Then Helena told me the same; you were just friends.”

Your attention sharpened around his words, each one striking a chord of unease.

“And I thought that was good for me, you know?” he continued, leaning back slightly, his nervous hands fidgeting with the edge of his glass. “Because I liked you. Even back then. But then, Joel came over one day while I was working on the yard—offered to help me out. He was nice, friendly even.”

“Oh,” you murmured, the word slipping out before you could stop it. Your voice sounded far away to your own ears. “I didn’t knew that.”

“Yeah,” Travis said, shifting in his seat. “I told him I was almost done, didn’t really need help. But I thought, why not? So I said he could help me with something else.”

There was a pause. His gaze faltered, dropping to his hands. He clicked his tongue, closing his eyes for a moment as though bracing himself.

“And then I said something stupid.”

“What did you say?” The question tumbled out, your curiosity escaping before you could temper it. You couldn’t recall Joel ever being nice to Travis. If anything, his attitude toward him bordered on dismissive, sometimes outright cold.

“I, uh...” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I told him he could help me with you.”

Your lips parted slightly, your expression betraying your surprise, but you didn’t interrupt him.

“I said something like... if he wasn’t careful, I might steal you from him forever,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing deeply. “You know, like a dumb joke.”

The breath you’d been holding slipped out in a shaky laugh. “You said what?”

“I know, okay? It was stupid.” He grimaced, glancing away. “His whole attitude shifted. He got... intense. Asked if I thought you were some kind of object. Said I was an idiot for underestimating you like that.” Travis’s voice softened, tinged with embarrassment. “I apologized right away, told him I didn’t mean it seriously. But he just turned and walked off.”

“Yeah, well, that sounds like Joel,” you muttered, a hint of amusement slipping into your tone despite yourself.

Travis, however, didn’t seem amused. He sighed, dragging his hand over his face.

“Yeah. And ever since then, he’s been... I don’t know. Dismissive. Like I don’t exist. And at first, I figured I deserved it—I was out of line. But after a while, I started to think... maybe there’s more to it. Something I don’t know about.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your face neutral. Still, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze felt heavier now, like he was peeling back layers, trying to uncover something buried.

“And when we started seeing each other, I thought maybe it didn’t matter,” he continued. “You told me you and Joel had argued, and that’s why things were strained. I believed you. But when I see the way you two act around each other...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s just... obvious. Too obvious. I’m sorry, but I have to ask—” His eyes locked onto yours, unflinching. “Did something happen between you?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and inescapable. Your heart raced, each beat loud and insistent in your ears. You felt pinned in place, his gaze pressing against your silence like a weight you couldn’t lift.

“Travis...” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

His expression shifted, softening, but not in a way that let you off the hook. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “It’s okay. Just... be honest.”

You liked Travis. You liked how steady he was, how easy it felt to be around him. And it hurt to realize he’d been carrying this doubt, this unspoken question, all this time. But his words also unraveled something inside you—a confession that finally made sense of Joel’s behavior. The teasing, the frustration, the way he reacted whenever Travis came up in conversation. Joel’s coldness toward him had been about you all along.

“Yes,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The single word carried a weight that settled between you, unavoidable. “A couple of weeks ago.”

The flicker of hope in his eyes extinguished, replaced by something quieter. Not anger, but something like disappointment. A quiet hurt he tried to hide but couldn’t entirely mask.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice steady, though you could hear the tension beneath it.

You hesitated. For a moment, you wanted to lie, to downplay the truth for his sake, for your own. But Travis had been honest with you from the start, and he deserved the same in return.

“We slept together,” you said finally, the words leaving your mouth like a weight dropping. “It was... a mistake. On his own words, that’s what he said.”

“He said it was a mistake?”

“Yeah.” The word felt colder this time, sharper.

Travis didn’t say anything for a long moment. He only nodded, as if piecing something together silently. And though you couldn’t quite read his expression, the shift in the air between you was undeniable.

“Then why did you fight?” Travis’s voice was steady but probing, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your stomach twist. “Was it because you slept together, or because he said it was a mistake?”

Your breath hitched. The question landed somewhere deep, stirring thoughts you’d been desperately trying to suppress. There was something in his tone—a clarity that felt unbearable, like a light shining on all the truths you weren’t ready to confront.

“Is there a difference?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended. It was a feeble attempt at deflection, one that neither of you believed.

Travis let out a soft sigh, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips—fragile and fleeting.

“I’m afraid there is,” he said simply. “Because if the fight was about him thinking it was a mistake... that means you don’t think it was.”

“No,” you said quickly, too quickly, shaking your head as if the physical act could erase the implication. “No, that’s not it.” But the words felt hollow, a lie that echoed between you both. “Do you want to know why we fought? It wasn’t about that. It’s because he was cruel to me. That night, before anything even happened, he treated me like I was insane—like I was jealous of the woman he’s dating. And afterward...” You swallowed hard, your voice faltering. “Afterward, he acted like it disgusted him to be with me.”

Travis’s expression shifted, his eyes slightly wider now, but he didn’t interrupt. You could feel tears building, threatening to spill, but you pushed forward, the words pouring out faster than you could stop them.

“He’s been awful to me, Travis. Every chance he gets, he finds a way to provoke me, to make me feel small. Even to you—he’s been horrible to you, and it’s... it’s complete bullshit.” Your voice cracked, and you exhaled shakily, wiping at your eyes. “Because he was my best friend. For years. And it’s hard for me to accept that someone I respected so much doesn’t respect me back. That’s what happened. That’s why everything’s so strange now.”

Travis nodded slowly, still quiet, his gaze steady but unreadable. You took another deep breath, your chest aching with the effort of holding it together.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you added softly. “But it was... private. And when we started seeing each other, everything was so new, and I didn’t know how to bring it up. That doesn’t mean I didn’t want to tell you.”

The silence that followed felt like a living thing, pressing down on you. Travis leaned back slightly, his fingers grazing the edge of his glass. He looked at you with an expression that made your stomach churn—gentle, but heavy with something that made you afraid.

“I know,” he said at last, his voice calm. “I know you wouldn’t keep something like that out of malice.”

“No, never,” you insisted, your voice cracking at the edges.

“But...” He exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. “I can’t lie to you, honey. This does affect me. And I don’t think I can pretend it doesn’t.” His honesty was like a sharp edge, cutting through whatever thin veneer of composure you’d managed to hold onto.

Your chest tightened. “Travis, I—”

He cut you off gently, raising a hand. “Listen. I like you. I really like you. You’re smart, and kind, and... easy to be around. But I don’t want to feel like I’m an obstacle in someone else’s story.”

“No,” you said, the word coming out as a rushed, desperate exhale. “You’re not. That’s not how it is. Joel and I... what happened between us was a mistake. A stupid, heat-of-the-moment thing that ruined everything we had. It’s over.”

Travis tilted his head slightly, studying you with that same quiet intensity. Then he shook his head, a soft, sad smile playing on his lips. “I don’t think Joel believes that.”

“Of course he does,” you insisted, though your voice sounded small, even to yourself. “He barely tolerates being around me now.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” His voice was calm, steady, as if he’d already thought this through. “I think Joel has... feelings for you. And I think it scares him so much he doesn’t know what to do with it. That’s why he’s defensive. That’s why he can’t stand me. That’s why he kept watching us at the barbecue like I was committing some kind of crime.”

“Travis—”

“No, just... let me finish,” he said gently, his hand brushing against yours. “I like you. I do. And I love spending time with you. But I don’t want to get caught in the middle of something I don’t understand.”

You blinked, feeling the words lodge somewhere in your throat. There was an ache now, spreading through your chest. “What... what are you saying?”

He gave you a small, bittersweet smile. “I’m saying you need to work things out with him. Figure out what’s really there—if it’s nothing, or if it’s something you just don’t want to admit yet. And once you do, if things are clear—really clear—then I’ll be here. If you want me to be.”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your nearly empty plate. The lump in your throat threatened to choke you, and you fought to keep your tears from falling. If Travis noticed, he didn’t say anything.

The silence lingered for only a few seconds before he spoke again, his voice shifting to something lighter. He told you a story about one of his friends you’d met the night before, trying to fill the space between you with something less painful. You appreciated the effort, even if it only barely reached you.

Later, when you settled on the couch, he pulled up a documentary on potatoes—something about their versatility and origins. You leaned against him, your head resting on his shoulder, as his warmth settled over you like a temporary balm. But as the documentary droned on, your attention blurred, your eyelids heavy with the weight of the night. Before you could process it, you drifted off, the quiet hum of his presence the only thing keeping you grounded.

*

When you opened your eyes, the room was still and dim, the TV screen darkened, its glow long since faded. You were stretched out on the couch, comfortably cocooned in the softness of a throw blanket that hadn’t been there earlier. You stretched lazily, a deep yawn escaping your throat, and for a brief moment, everything felt calm. You felt rested, better.

But the calm didn’t last.

The memory of your conversation with Travis resurfaced like a stone dropped into a still pond, ripples spreading out and disturbing your peace. You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, your body still tingling with the remnants of an unburdened nap.

That’s when you noticed the note on the coffee table, a piece of paper folded neatly, its corners perfectly aligned. You reached for it, your fingers brushing against the edges before unfolding it.

The note was simple, in Travis’s clean, deliberate handwriting:

"I had to go home, didn’t want to wake you up; thought the rest would do you good. See you later :)."

You sighed, reading his words again and again, overanalyzing every line, every punctuation mark. Of course, he was kind, thoughtful as always. But underneath that kindness was something else—a quiet truth he’d handed you earlier like a weight too heavy to carry alone.

He was right. You couldn’t have anything honest with him if you didn’t face the mess you’d left behind with Joel. And that, of course, was even more complicated than you wanted to admit. Because you knew why.

You loved Joel.

Not just in the messy, confusing way that kept you up at night. But in all the other ways too. Joel was your best friend. Losing him had been one of the hardest things you’d endured in years, and the ache of that absence lingered like a bruise you couldn’t stop pressing. You missed everything about him—his dry humor, the easy rhythm of your shared days, the unspoken understanding that only years of friendship could bring.

You missed the mundane, simple things: the lunches that turned into dinners, the quiet nights spent on his couch, watching some terrible action movie he insisted was a “classic.” The lazy afternoons in his backyard, the sun catching in his hair as he hosed down his truck, grinning like a kid when he’d spray water in your direction just to hear you yell. The way he listened, the way he told you things he wouldn’t tell anyone else. The moments with Sarah—how natural it all felt, like a little pocket of family you’d carved out together.

And then it was gone. The thought of it made your chest tighten.

Your phone was on the coffee table, its screen dark until you picked it up. 4:34 p.m. The nerves in your stomach stirred again, buzzing like static beneath your skin. You stared at Joel’s name in your contacts. His number had been blocked since that Tuesday. If he’d tried to text you, you wouldn’t know.

Your thumb hovered over the unblock button, then pressed it. There. Done.

But now what?

You stared at the tiny phone icon next to his name, debating whether to call him. Your thumb twitched, but you froze. Maybe it would be better to write. Calls made you nervous—they left too much space for things to go wrong.

"Hi, Joel, I was thinking—"

No. Too vague.

"Joel, if you want, we can—"

No. Still wrong.

"Hi, can you talk—"

No, no, no.

You sighed, leaning back against the couch, the phone still warm in your hand. Before you could talk yourself out of it, your thumb pressed the call button. The line connected almost immediately, and then there it was—his voice, steady and familiar.

He said your name like it was a sentence.

“Hi, Joel,” you said, your voice even despite the way your heart was racing.

“D'you want me to come to your place, are you coming to mine, or should we meet somewhere else?” he asked, skipping over pleasantries entirely.

Always to the point.

“Is Sarah with you?” you asked instead, needing a moment to steady yourself.

“No. She’s with Lea.”

Lea. Right. You remembered Sarah talking about her—her new friend from soccer. Lea lived nearby with her mom and older sister, had a huge collection of video games, and a mother who baked cakes Sarah couldn’t stop raving about. But even then, Sarah had reassured you with a grin, “No one’s better at baking than you.”

She wouldn’t be back until dinner, you realized. It gave you some space, some time.

“Okay,” you said, weighing your options. You didn’t want to cry in public, and your house... well, nothing good had come from Joel being there last time. “I’ll go to your house,” you decided, bringing a hand to your forehead. “In fifteen. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, his voice calm. “I’ll be here.”

You hung up without another word, the silence in your living room rushing back to meet you.

For a moment, you stood there, gripping the phone like it might steady the erratic thrum of your pulse. Your blood rushed in your ears, drowning out every other sound.

Fifteen minutes. That was all you had to pull yourself together. 

*

You rang the doorbell and swallowed hard, nerves curling tightly in your stomach. Your eyes flicked down to your body in an almost absent check. The pajamas had been swapped for something presentable but still low effort: tailored black pants that grazed your feet, a black t-shirt layered under a wool sweater of the same shade. Safe. Functional. On your feet, though, the betrayal of slippers—a detail you hadn't thought much about until now, standing on Joel’s doorstep.

Inside, heavy footsteps approached, steady and deliberate. A sharp pang of anticipation ran through you. Less time passed than you expected before the door swung open, and there he was, framed by the familiar threshold.

Joel’s dark eyes met yours, scanning over you with a quiet intensity. He hadn’t changed much from earlier—still in the same dark jeans, but his sweater was gone, replaced with a simple white t-shirt that clung to his broad frame in that way that made your throat feel tight. He smiled softly, disarmingly, like he’d been practicing this exact expression.

“Come in,” he said, stepping aside to make room for you.

You hesitated for half a second before crossing the threshold. The familiar scent of his home—clean laundry mingling with faint traces of coffee and wood—hit you immediately, stirring something warm in your chest. You took in the living room, unchanged since the last time you were here, though your memory painted it differently now. This house, this space, was the backdrop to so much shared history, yet it felt heavy with everything left unresolved.

You paused in the living room, your hands finding their way into your pockets. The couch sat there like a relic, the same spot you’d occupied last time taunting you with its familiarity. Sitting felt both inevitable and wrong, like stepping back into a memory you’d tried too hard to forget. You lowered yourself onto the cushion anyway, folding into the space where you used to fit so effortlessly.

“D'you want something to drink?” Joel asked, already heading toward the kitchen. “I just made coffee. Got some of that chocolate you like too.”

You nodded without thinking, your voice betraying you with a simple, “Chocolate’s fine.” It came out softer than you’d intended, like you were worried anything louder might shatter the precarious peace between you.

Joel nodded back and disappeared through the archway. You were left standing in the middle of the room, the stillness pressing in. The faint aroma of coffee curled around you as your eyes moved over the space.

The TV was on pause, the frozen frame capturing Arnold Schwarzenegger mid-glare, leather jacket gleaming under dim lighting. On the coffee table, a stack of DVDs sat next to Joel’s keys. It was all so mundane, so normal, but the weight of your own memories turned it into something else entirely.

Your gaze lingered on the spot next to you, the place where Joel had sat the last time you were here. The memory hit like a bruise being pressed, sharp and unwelcome. You could still feel the crackling tension of that night, the words that had gone unspoken, and the ache of things breaking further apart.

By the time Joel returned, balancing two mugs, you’d managed to pull yourself back to the present. He set yours on the coffee table in front of you—a perfect swirl of steam curling from its surface—before sinking into the couch beside you with his own. The proximity sent a flicker of awareness through you, unsettling but familiar.

The chocolate was perfect, sweet and rich, just as you’d remembered. You focused on the cup in your hands, grateful for something tangible to anchor you. Joel took a sip from his mug, the silence stretching between you like a taut string.

He spoke first, breaking the quiet with a voice that was both casual and loaded. “Sarah’s still mad at me.” He paused, glancing at you before adding, “Said she didn’t want to be home if I was gonna keep acting like an idiot.”

The corner of your mouth twitched in a reluctant smile. “Why’s she mad?”

Joel gave you a look, his brows drawing together like he wasn’t sure if you were serious. “Because of yesterday,” he said finally. “When I wouldn’t let her talk to you.”

“Oh,” you murmured, the memory of his sharp tone from the day before resurfacing. You took another sip, letting the warm liquid settle in your chest.

Joel’s presence beside you felt larger now, like it was pressing against the edges of your awareness. It was strange, this new dynamic—this quiet discomfort with a man who had once been your safe place.

Neither of you spoke for a moment, the silence turning awkward in a way that made you itch. Your mind churned with unspoken words, all the things you wanted to say but didn’t know how to. And then, without fully realizing it, the thought slipped from your mouth:

“This is a bad idea.”

Joel’s head snapped up, his body tensing.

“No, wait,” he said quickly, setting his mug down as he reached for your hand, still curled around your cup. The warmth of his touch startled you, grounding and overwhelming all at once. “Please, don’t leave. Let’s talk. Just… talk, okay?”

The quiet desperation in his voice made you pause. You pulled your hand back, setting the cup on the table, and leaned away slightly, trying to create some distance.

“Okay,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “Speak, then.”

Joel’s gaze dropped to his hands, his fingers fidgeting in an almost subconscious rhythm, twisting together before pulling apart, like his thoughts were straining against each other in his head. His tongue flicked out briefly to moisten his upper lip, a small, nervous habit you’d noticed but never commented on. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost too soft, but it carried weight, each word vibrating in your ears as if they’d been tailored just for you. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, his words deliberate, as though he’d rehearsed them countless times but still wasn’t sure how they’d land. His eyes didn’t meet yours, staying glued to the restless movement of his fingers.

You straightened in your seat, your chest tightening, not because you didn’t know what he meant—you absolutely did—but because you needed him to say it. To finally put it out there, to stop hiding behind vague statements and unfinished thoughts.

“What, Joel?” you prompted, your voice sharper than you intended. 

His head lifted just slightly, his brow furrowed in a way that softened his expression rather than hardening it. His eyes, however, told the real story—heavy and shadowed, the exhaustion there making him look older than you’d ever allowed yourself to notice. 

“This,” he gestured vaguely between you two, his hand falling limp to his lap again, “this thing we’re doing. Acting like strangers or, worse, like seeing each other is some kind of punishment we’re both trying to avoid. I can’t stand it anymore. I hate it.”

You exhaled sharply, leaning back against the couch as your arms crossed instinctively over your chest. His words stung because, on some level, they echoed your own feelings, but hearing them from him made you bristle. “I’ve never acted like that with you, Joel. Never.” Your voice was steady, clear, every syllable landing with precision. “If anything, you’re the one acting like seeing me is a nightmare you can’t wait to wake up from.”

Joel’s mouth parted as if to protest, but you didn’t give him the chance. “Like yesterday,” you continued, your tone sharpening. “Forcing Sarah into the house, shutting me out like I was the problem. Or all those times you decided to pretend I didn’t exist. How do you think that makes me feel, Joel?”

His frown deepened, but he didn’t look away. “That’s not true,” he said firmly, though his voice lacked the confidence his words suggested. “Every time I’ve tried to talk to you, you’ve shut me out. Like you couldn’t bear to be near me. I saw it in your eyes, felt it in the way you’d flinch or turn away. Like at the Hoffmans’, when you wouldn’t even look at me. And every time I spoke, I could feel your... discomfort.”

The mention of that night sent heat rising to your face, a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“Joel, really?” Your voice pitched slightly higher, but you forced yourself to rein it in, refusing to let him pull you into a full-blown argument—not yet. “You were so mean that night. To me, to Travis. What exactly did you expect? For me to smile and pretend like everything was fine?”

“I remember,” Joel interrupted, his voice dipping into something closer to regret. He rubbed a hand across his face, as though trying to erase the memory. “I just—” He paused, his brow furrowing further. “I just hated the way you looked at me. When i sat next to you I realized right away how uncomfortable you were with me there. I couldn’t stand it.”

You let out a long, slow breath, rubbing your temple as you tried to keep your own frustration from boiling over. “What did you expect me to feel, Joel? Our last conversation didn’t exactly leave me eager to see you again. Honestly, I didn’t even think you’d show up.”

“Why not?” he asked, sounding genuinely baffled. “I never miss the Hoffmans’ barbecues.”

That made you laugh, a short, humorless sound. “You hate those barbecues. You’ve said it a hundred times—the music, the noise, the neighbors gossiping. You only ever went because of us, didn’t you?”

He sighed, leaning back against the couch and dropping his hands onto his thighs. His gaze drifted to some fixed point ahead of him, like he was trying to gather his thoughts. “Yeah,” he admitted after a long pause. “And I wasn’t lying; I went because I knew you’d be there.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t respond. You stared at him, searching his face for some sign that he was joking, but he wasn’t. A small, bitter laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head.

“That doesn’t make sense,” you said, your voice laced with disbelief. “You attended for me but spent the whole night treating me like dirt. And let’s not forget hooking up with Clara Pierce.”

Joel’s face flushed immediately, a faint pink creeping up his neck and settling on his cheeks. He looked down at his hands again, his fingers still fidgeting, but now with a new kind of nervous energy.

“I didn’t hooked up with her,” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the charged air between you. His gaze lifted to meet yours, earnest and unflinching. “I didn’t. I just walked her home.”

"Yeah, right." You snorted, crossing your arms again. “Do you really think I’m that gullible?”

“I’m not lying,” he insisted, leaning toward you. “I didn’t sleep with her. I didn’t even wanted to be around her. I just needed an excuse to get out of there. So I walked her home and I told her to stop... you know, whatever she thought she was doing with me. You can ask her, and she'll probably tell you I'm an asshole.”

There was something in his tone, a rawness that made you pause. He wasn’t lying—you could see it in his eyes. But the relief you felt was quickly overshadowed by anger.

“You knew she liked you, Joel. And you let her think she had a chance. Why? Did you even consider it for a second?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he searched for the right words.

Joel exhaled deeply, his gaze roaming over your face like he was reading a language he used to know fluently but now struggled to understand. The irritation etched into your features mirrored his own; it was like looking into a cracked reflection. His shoulders sagged slightly as if weighed down by his own thoughts.

“No,” he said finally, the word flat, almost lifeless. “I don’t like her. I don’t like the way she talks to me, the way she... carries herself around me. And no, I don’t like the way I acted that night either. I know I was out of line. But I wanted to talk to you, and Travis wouldn’t—” He stopped, shaking his head, his frustration palpable. “He wouldn’t let go of you. And when I finally did talk to you, I screwed it all up again. I know that. I hate it, but it’s the truth. I was pissed off and fed up.”

You straightened your spine, your body tense, arms stiff at your sides. “What did you even want to talk to me about, Joel?” you asked, your voice sharp now, cutting through the air between you. “What for? If every time we talk, all you succeed in doing is making me feel worse?”

He blinked slowly, the weight of your words visibly landing on him. His dark eyes drifted over your face, heavy with something that resembled anguish. His hands rested in his lap, fingers clasped tightly together, his thumbs rubbing small, compulsive circles against each other. When he spoke again, his voice was unsteady, barely above a whisper. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his head lowering until his eyes were focused somewhere around your feet. “I try to psych myself up to apologize to you. But every time I see you, I can’t think straight. It’s like my brain short-circuits. I get defensive, I think, whenever I see you looking... happy.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “Happy with him. You look like you’re doing just fine, and I think, what the fuck am I doing? Why am I here? Clearly, you don’t feel as shitty as I do. And then I get angry. I hate how easy it seems for you. How simple it is for you to move on, like my absence doesn’t even register. And that’s what I can’t handle, because that’s not how it is for me. Not at all.”

His gaze lifted to meet yours, and the intensity in his eyes was like a physical touch, hot and almost unbearable. “It’s not my case at all,” he said, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion. “Not a single day has gone by where I haven’t missed you. Do you have any idea how empty this house feels without you? How empty my life feels?”

Your lips parted, the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue faltering under the weight of his words.

“Joel—” you began, but he cut you off, his body leaning toward you, one hand lifting as if to physically hold your words at bay.

“No, I’m serious,” he said, his voice firm now, the rawness in it making your chest tighten. “It’s pathetic, how much it affects me. And it’s exactly what I was afraid of, you know? That we’d cross that line, and everything would go to shit. And now—”

“Is the thought of that night really so unbearable for you, Joel?” you interrupted, your voice trembling but still strong enough to slice through his stormy rambling. You leaned in slightly, your posture rigid, your gaze locked on him. The question caught him off guard; his breath seemed to hitch, his eyes widening. “Because it feels like you can’t even stand it. Like the idea of touching me—of having touched me—is some stain you can’t wash off. Like I was a nasty trap you fell into by mistake, like you needed an acid bath to clean off my handprint. Just a moment of weakness.”

He froze, his chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths. The sunlight streaming through the window behind him illuminated the back of his neck, the soft curls there catching the light like strands of gold. His skin looking golden as honey, dark eyes safe in shadow against the illumination. You could almost swear he wasn't breathing.

“Yes, it is” he said at last, his voice quiet and careful. “But not for the reason you think. I hated how I acted. I hated how I treated you. I was impulsive and cruel, and that’s not how it should’ve been between us. That’s not how we should’ve been.”

You frowned, the confusion and annoyance sharpening your gaze.

“You always think you know how everything should go, don’t you?” you asked, tilting your head slightly as you studied him. “You map it all out in your head—the beginning, the middle, the end—and when it doesn’t go your way, you act like the world’s against you. Don’t you get tired of trying to control everything, Joel?”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply. You leaned back, shaking your head softly.

“You’re impulsive. You’ve always been impulsive," you continued. "That night, at the barbecue, even yesterday. And somehow, you always manage to drag me down with you.”

“Stop it,” he said suddenly, his voice low and firm. He sat up straighter, his broad frame casting a shadow over you as he loomed closer. “You want to know what bothers me? That you act like I forced you into all of this. Like I made you do something you didn’t want to do. Yes, we slept together. I know I messed up afterward, but I didn’t manipulate you into it, and you know it.”

His voice softened but remained steady, each word deliberate. “I asked you, I asked you right before it, don't you remember? Tell me to stop,” he paraphrased, his thick voice sending shivers down your spine. “Do you want me to stop?. No, you said.”

You remembered, of course. The moment was burned into your memory, as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. His voice had been thick with urgency, his body trembling against yours. Tell me to stop, he’d said, his breath hot against your skin, your body pressed against the wall.

“I know,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible.

Joel’s voice was laced with something raw, an edge of frustration barely concealed. “Then why does it feel like every time we talk, you act like all of this is something I forced you into?” His words hit the air with force, each syllable sharpening the distance between you. “Like I’m the villain in your story. Like seeing me or even talking to me is some kind of punishment. You made that pretty clear at the barbecue.”

You watched him, your chest tightening in that way it always did when his anger met your own. It was ironic, wasn’t it? How he felt like you were the one dragging him down when you’d spent months drowning under the weight of him. You shook your head slowly, a faint, bitter smile curling on your lips.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you said, your voice quieter now but no less firm.

Joel blinked, the sharpness of his expression softening into confusion. His brows relaxed, his shoulders losing some of their tension. He looked at you like he was waiting for something, like you were about to reveal a crucial piece of the puzzle he hadn’t yet figured out.

“You left, Joel,” you began, your tone steady, each word landing like a blow. “You lied to me. You treated me like I was the liar, like I was the jealous one. You used my feelings against me, and then you kissed me like you were trying to win some kind of argument, to prove a point. You undressed me. You saw me naked, touched me, and fucked me. And then you left.”

The words hung in the air between you, and you saw how they hit him—hard. His face didn’t change much, but you noticed the way his brows twitched, how his lips parted slightly as if to respond. But you didn’t give him the chance.

“It took you days to come and talk to me properly. Days,” you continued, your voice harder now, every syllable sharp and deliberate. “And when you finally did, it wasn’t to apologize. You treated me like I was nothing more than an afterthought. A stranger. You said it was a mistake, Joel. That you let yourself go. That you regretted it. Do you have any idea how pathetic that made me feel? How used? My best friend decided that sleeping with me was the worst thing he’d ever done. A ‘torturous mistake,’ I think you called it. And no, you didn’t force me. But don’t stand here and ask me why I don’t want to see you anymore. You made me feel less than nothing.”

Joel’s gaze dropped, his head lowering until you could see the thin scar across the bridge of his nose. It was almost absurd, how familiar you were with it—how many times you’d wanted to trace it with your fingertips. Your hand twitched at your side, but you held still, the distance between you stretching impossibly wide.

When he looked up, his eyes startled you. They were glassy, shimmering with unshed tears that caught the light like fragments of something broken. His voice, when it came, was quieter, almost hesitant.

Joel’s voice was steady but low, weighted with something that felt too big to name.

“The first time I saw you, I felt something I wasn’t supposed to feel,” he said, each word measured, like he’d been rehearsing this in his head for years. “I liked you. Simply put. I’m not sure I was even trying to fight it then, but I knew I should have been.”

You didn’t interrupt. You couldn’t. The weight of his words settled into your chest, filling spaces you hadn’t known were hollow. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, his gaze lingering somewhere to the left of your shoulder.

“It was your birthday,” he continued, his tone softening as though he were wading into the memory. “You were having a bad time. I could tell the second I walked in. I wasn’t even invited to the party, remember? Brianna brought me, and I knew I shouldn’t have attended. It was small, intimate—you clearly weren’t expecting someone like me there. You looked at me like I’d ruined the whole night just by showing up.”

His lips curved slightly, a self-deprecating smile. “Brianna told me it would be fine. She was wrong, obviously. But I figured it out pretty quickly—that it wasn’t me or even the party that was bothering you. It was your birthday. You hated it.” His gaze flicked toward you then, tentative, as if confirming his guess. “Still, you smiled at me in the kitchen. I don’t think you wanted to, but you did. And I thought, this is dangerous.”

Your stomach twisted, memories of that night rushing back in sharp detail—the awkward weight of him in the room, the heat in his voice when he’d said your name. You’d never realized how much he’d been paying attention, even then.

“I was dating your friend,” he continued, his voice dipping lower, “so I didn’t let myself think about it much. But after that night, Brianna kept inviting me to things. And I knew you were always there, and that you probably would always look at me like I was some sort of intruder. So I turned her down every time after that. I didn't—I couldn't afford to find out how much I liked you. I've had enough."

His admission hit you like a punch to the ribs. You gripped the edge of the couch, trying to keep your expression neutral, though you weren’t sure you were succeeding.

“When Brianna and I broke up, I figured that was it. I wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore.” He exhaled, almost laughing at himself. “And then, four years later, you moved in next door. Can you believe that? I actually thought it was fate or something. Stupid, right?”

The corner of your mouth twitched, but you didn’t say anything. He didn’t notice. He was smiling faintly now, lost in his own thoughts.

“That’s when I realized how much I liked you,” he said, his voice softening. “Too much. But time passed, and you became more than that. You became my best friend. Sarah adored you. I adored you, i do. You made everything feel... I don’t know, lighter. I couldn’t ruin that just because of some crush.”

His words cracked something open inside you, the realization sinking in that he had never known how you felt. How many nights had you lain awake, cursing yourself for the way you looked at him? And all that time, was he doing the same?

“So I let it go,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “I buried it. You were important to me. Too important. I wasn’t going to risk what we had for something that might not even needed to be real. I couldn't corrupt us. But that's just what I did, isn't it?”

He paused, his eyes finally meeting yours. They were dark, shining with a mix of regret and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“I threw it all away in one night. Let myself get carried away, let my anger take over. And now you’re hurt, and I hate myself for it.”

You stared at him, unable to speak. The tears streaming down your face were hot, but you barely registered them. Your whole body felt like it was vibrating, heavy and weightless all at once.

“You’re beautiful,” Joel said suddenly, his voice dropping. “The most amazing woman I’ve ever met. Don’t think for a second that sleeping with you was torture. It wasn’t. I was stupid and selfish and angry, and I hurt you. I didn’t stop to think about what I was doing to you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Your breath caught, his name leaving your lips like a prayer. He wasn’t finished, though. His gaze dropped again, his hands twisting together as he added, almost to himself, “I was too focused on my anger...I didn't realize how much I had hurt you. You look so good with Travis that I thought-”

“Joel.” His name slipped out of your mouth, barely audible, but he didn’t stop.

“He treats you well, doesn’t he?” Joel’s voice cracked slightly. “He’s good to you. Better than I’ve been lately, m'sure of it. I've been mean to him, I know."

"Joel, can-"

"Sarah is very happy for you. Says he's handsome and all that," he continued, almost as if he was thinking out loud. “I’ll stay out of your way,” he said finally, looking back at you with a kindness that made your stomach twist. His smile was soft but hollow, his eyes dark with resignation.

You wanted to tell him to stop. But again, Joel wasn’t looking at you anymore. And his thoughts were spiraling somewhere you couldn’t reach.

“I promise I'll be good. And you don’t have to forgive me. But if you’ll let me, I’d like to try. To make it right. Even just a little, may-”

His voice broke something in you. Your breathing quickened, your chest tightening with something that felt too big to contain. And Joel stopped mid-sentence, his body going still as he took in your expression when you suddenly got up the couch, interrupting the sound of his voice, which slowed down as soon as he saw you. 

Joel’s eyes flickered with confusion as he looked at you, his body tense, like a taut string waiting to snap. Your expression must have told him everything he needed to know—or maybe nothing at all. Your breathing was uneven, shallow, as though you couldn’t find enough air.  

There were too many feelings jostling for attention inside you, none of them distinct, all of them overwhelming. His words were still spinning in your head, looping back and forth without ever resolving into clarity. Was he stepping back? Letting go? Accepting Travis? Did you even wanted him to so that? The thought alone made your chest tighten painfully, but you didn’t even know if it was what he meant.  

You caught his gaze one last time, something raw passing between you, and then you turned sharply. Your feet carried you toward the door like they had a mind of their own, your breath hitching, your pulse wild and erratic. The rush of blood in your ears drowned out the sound of your footsteps, the room, him. You reached out for the door, your hand trembling, when his touch—firm, warm, steady—landed on your shoulders.  

He turned you to face him, and there he was, his expression cracked open with concern. His brow furrowed, his lips parted slightly, searching for words he didn’t know how to form. He looked lost in a way that made something inside you twist painfully.  

“Please don’t—” Joel began, his voice low, careful, but he didn’t finish. He couldn’t, because suddenly, you were on your toes, leaning into him, closing the space between you like it was inevitable.  

Your arms wrapped around his neck as your lips found his, desperate and unrelenting. For a moment, he froze, stunned, but then his hands moved to your waist, strong and grounding, pulling you closer until there wasn’t even a sliver of space left between you. His eyes fluttered shut, and yours followed, everything else fading to a blur.  

Completely lost, that's how you felt as his lips kissed yours; the kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against yours, and the world tilted. Your breathing came fast and shallow, mixing with his, as if neither of you could quite get enough. His arms tightened around you, his chest pressed against yours, solid and impossibly warm. You felt his strength everywhere, his thick arms wrapped around you, the way he held you like he didn’t want to let go, and it undid you completely.

Your body fit against his in a way that felt both foreign and natural, and when he pulled you tighter, you felt his unmistakable hardness against your belly. The sound that slipped from your lips was involuntary, a soft moan that melted into his mouth. He responded with a low, guttural sound that sent a shiver through you, leaving no doubt that he felt this just as intensely.  

He broke the kiss, but only to trail his lips down your neck, finding that spot just beneath your ear that made you gasp. His teeth grazed your skin, gentle but firm, and your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as though you could anchor yourself to him, to this moment. Your body burned under his touch, heat radiating from your skin, your body so hot that if someone spilled water on you it would evaporate instantly.

This time Joel didn't ask, he didn't have to. His hand found yours, and he guided you toward the stairs, his grip steady, his presence a quiet reassurance. Each step was a blur, your feet barely keeping pace with him, but you didn’t care. You trusted him completely, even as your knees wobbled, even as you stumbled and he steadied you.  

When you reached his room, he pushed the door open without hesitation, his lips already finding yours again. It was different this time, hungrier, more urgent, like neither of you could wait any longer.  

How many times had you been in Joel's room? Too many. The space was familiar, you’d been there countless times before, and yet now it felt entirely foreign. The walls seemed closer, the air heavier, thick with anticipation.

He tossed you onto the bed with a gentle push, his hands sliding to the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward in one smooth motion before tossing it aside. And his eyes never left yours as he unbuckled his belt, the metallic clink sharp against the charged silence. You sat up, your hands trembling as you peeled off your sweater and shirt, discarding them without a second thought. His pants hit the floor, and as your hands unbuttoned your pants, Joel's hands took over pulling them down your legs, while your eyes devoured the image of him —fully, completely bare—, his thick, swollen dick staring back at you. And you couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped you.

Joel climbed onto the bed, his body hovering over yours, his mouth finding yours again. His skin was burning hot beneath your fingertips as your hands explored him, desperate and deliberate. You could feel the weight of him pressing against you, grounding you, and yet you felt utterly unmoored.  

He paused, just barely, his eyes locking on yours in a gaze that felt criminal. There was something unspoken in his eyes, something intense and devastating, as his body pressed even closer to yours. The evidence of his desire pulsed against your skin; his silky pink tip throbbing against your belly. And your breath hitched as a wave of heat rolled through you, leaving you breathless. 

Joel’s right hand slid under your back, his fingertips brushing against your skin in a way that sent an electric current racing through you. Instinctively, your spine arched, your body offering itself to him without hesitation. The faint plastic sound of the clasp unbuckling filled the charged air, followed by the soft sensation of his knuckles brushing your shoulder blades.  

You lifted your arms above your head, releasing the hold you’d had around his neck, giving him the space to slide the bra free in one seamless motion. The fabric disappeared somewhere out of sight, irrelevant now, as his lips returned to the curve of your neck. They pressed there, slow and deliberate, his kisses trailing downward with a tenderness that felt almost reverent.  

When his mouth reached your chest, everything else fell away. Joel paused, just for a heartbeat, before opening his mouth and taking one of your breast, his tongue circling your nipple with a teasing rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. His lips were soft, almost unbearably so, and the suction he applied was gentle but insistent, each movement pulling a quiet moan from your throat.  

Your hands found his hair again, threading through the thick, slightly messy strands. This time, you tugged, harder than you meant to, and he responded with a low, guttural moan that vibrated against your skin, the sound so intimate it made your stomach tighten. His free hand claimed your other breast, his thumb moving in slow, agonizing circles over your nipple, each touch coaxing more heat from you, your body so sensitized it felt like every nerve was connected to him.  

The ache inside you was unbearable, a tension building low in your belly that threatened to spill over with just the careful ministrations of his mouth. You felt wild, desperate, every inch of you on edge, and still, he moved with the kind of patience that felt like torture.  

“Joel,” you gasped, your voice raw and unsteady, “fuck me already.” The words spilled out unfiltered, your head falling back against the pillow, your back arching again in a plea for more of him, more of his touch, more of his weight pressing into you.  

His hands stilled for only a moment, his eyes flicking up to yours. Something passed between you then, a moment of recognition—of shared urgency, yes, but also something deeper. Then his hands moved, confident and certain, to the waistband of your underwear. With no hesitation, he hooked his fingers around the elastic and tugged downward, the fabric dragging against your thighs in a way that felt both intimate and freeing.  

Joel sat back slightly, his weight shifting onto his heels as he worked the underwear off completely, his movements slow. The sun streamed through the window, catching him in a way that made your breath hitch. He looked unreal, the golden light painting his skin in warm hues, the flush on his chest and face deepened by the contrast. His eyes, darkened with desire, somehow glinted brighter in this light, a sharp clarity that made them look like liquid amber.  

You couldn’t look away. He was beautiful—too beautiful, almost painfully so—and the way his chest rose and fell, his labored breathing, the way he looked at you, like he wanted to eat you whole, made your throat tighten.  

Joel smiled then, soft but unguarded, and you swore you felt it everywhere. A double inhaled breath escaped his lips, more felt than heard, and then he let the underwear fall to the floor, forgotten.  

His hands found your ankles next, his grip firm but tender as he slowly spread your legs apart, his gaze dropping between them, dropping to the throbbing heart between your legs. The shift in his expression as his eyes settled there—intense, hungry, almost reverent—made heat bloom across your chest. You felt exposed in the most vulnerable, raw way possible. But it felt good. Natural.

Desire was etched across his face, raw and consuming, his lower lip trembling slightly as though he was holding something back—something that threatened to spill over any second. The air between you felt molten, thick with the weight of what was about to happen. Your whole body ached with need, a fire burning so fiercely inside you that you couldn’t bear to wait any longer.  

As though he could read your mind, Joel leaned over you, his hands bracing on either side of your head, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. His body hovered just above yours, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. His hips shifted, his movements slow, deliberate, as he guided himself to you.  

The head of his cock brushed against your clit, swollen and slick with his pre-cum, and the contact sent a shockwave through you. Your cunt throbbed at the sensation, a needy whimper escaping your lips, soft and involuntary.  

Joel groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you as he took himself in hand, rubbing his length against you. The pressure, the friction—it was maddening, each stroke sending your back arching off the mattress. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin like you might fall apart if you didn’t hold on to him.  

Then, without warning, he pressed forward, the thick head of him stretching you open, slow and steady. A gasp tore from your throat as he filled you inch by inch, the delicious ache of it making your head spin. Joel’s breath hitched, his eyes falling shut as he stilled for a moment, buried fully inside you. His body trembled slightly, overwhelmed by the sensation of your warmth gripping him so tightly.  

He dipped his head down, his face close enough that your noses brushed, and your lips found his instinctively, crashing together with a fervent kind of need. His kiss was messy, uncoordinated, but it didn’t matter—it was everything you needed in that moment.  

Joel shifted, bracing himself on his arms, his body pressed even closer to yours as his hips began to move. The first thrust was deep, deliberate, setting a rhythm that sent shockwaves through you. Each roll of his hips drove him impossibly deeper, his cock sliding against your slick heat, glistening in the golden sunlight that spilled across the room.  

The sounds that filled the space were obscene: the wet, rhythmic slap of your bodies meeting, your moans mingling with his, and the creak of the bed frame crashing against the wall with every thrust. The room seemed to shrink around you, the rest of the world fading away until there was only this—only him.  

Your body sank into the mattress under the force of his movements, your hands clutching at his skin desperately. Your nails bit into the muscles of his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks as you cried out, each sound punctuated by the relentless rhythm of his hips.  

You couldn’t think anymore. Your mind had been overtaken completely, drowned in a haze of pleasure so intense it bordered on overwhelming. All you could do was feel—the heat of his body against yours, the slick slide of him inside you, the way every thrust seemed to tear you apart and put you back together all at once.  

His eyes found yours then, blazing with an intensity that made your stomach flip. His face was flushed, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead and neck, and the sight of him like that—lost in you, undone by you—was enough to make your chest tighten.  

Your hands slid up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, your lips finding the curve of his throat. You kissed him there, tasting the salt of his sweat, your teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Your tongue ran over the wet centimeters of his skin, and Joel let out a low, guttural sound, a noise so raw and primal that it sent a shiver through you.  

His thrusts quickened, each one harder, deeper, the intensity building to a fever pitch. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your heels digging into his skin as if to anchor yourself. You couldn’t hold on much longer—every muscle in your body was coiled tight, the tension growing unbearable, threatening to snap at any second.  

Your mouth found his again, desperate kisses scattered across his jaw and lips, and just as his tongue slipped past your lips, his deep moan vibrated against your mouth. It was your undoing.  

Your body tensed, every nerve igniting as you shattered around him, the release so powerful it stole the breath from your lungs. You cried out, your moans tangled with his as your walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper, holding him tight.  

Joel’s hips faltered, his rhythm breaking as he followed you over the edge. He groaned, the sound low and hoarse, as his body jerked against yours. You felt him throb inside you, his release hot and overwhelming, spilling deep within you as he buried himself fully one last time.  

The world went quiet then, save for the sound of your labored breathing and the soft creak of the bed as you both stilled. Joel collapsed onto you, his weight grounding you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. You were utterly spent, but there was a strange peace in the way his body rested against yours, the way his lips brushed your temple in the aftermath.  

Joel’s lips lingered against yours for a breathless second before he pulled away, his face collapsing into the crook of your neck as though he couldn’t hold himself upright any longer. His body felt heavy, but his touch was soft, almost hesitant, as if the weight of the moment had finally sunk into him. Your labored breaths mingled, the only sound in the room, filling the air with an intimacy that neither of you dared disturb.

When he finally rolled onto his side, you turned to face him, unable to look away. His face was flushed, damp curls clinging to his forehead, and his lips were still swollen and dark from your kisses. There was something unguarded in his expression, a rare openness that made your chest ache. You drank him in with fascination, deliberately holding back the tide of guilt or confusion that threatened to rise.

His eyes caught yours, and when they softened, a warmth unfurled low in your stomach. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek with an almost painful tenderness, and then he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple—delicate, reverent, like a vow unspoken.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, with a slight sigh, Joel pushed himself up and padded toward the bathroom. You watched him the whole time, your gaze tracing the lines of his back, the way his shoulders moved with every step. When he returned, he carried a damp towel, crouching beside you with quiet purpose. The towel was warm against your skin as he cleaned you carefully, the act so gentle it left your throat tight.

Once finished, he tossed the towel aside and climbed back into bed, his body sinking into the mattress beside yours, his arms wrapping around you again, bringing you closer to his warm chest. The silence stretched out between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. You weren’t sure how long you lay there, the two of you caught in the stillness, but the pull of sleep began to tug at you, the haze of exhaustion wrapping around your mind.

Neither of you had spoken a word. The quiet felt sacred, unbroken by explanations or apologies. You didn’t want to speak, and it seemed Joel didn’t either.

But then, the sharp sound of the front door creaking open shattered the stillness, startling you both. Joel bolted upright, his body tense.

“Dad, I’m home!” Sarah’s cheerful voice echoed up the stairs.

Panic shot through you like ice water. You sat up abruptly, your heart pounding as adrenaline surged through your veins. Joel was already on his feet, reaching for his clothes in a hurried, almost frantic motion. His eyes darted to you, his expression equal parts alarmed and apologetic.

“I’ll be right down!” he called out, his voice forced into an approximation of calm. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, and when he returned, his face and hands were damp. He rubbed at his skin with the hem of his shirt, then turned to you, his gaze steady but urgent.

“Five minutes,” he said softly, waiting for your nod before slipping out the door.

Left alone, you scrambled to pull yourself together. Your legs trembled as you stood, still tender, and your hands shook as you worked to smooth your hair and wipe your face. No amount of effort could erase the telltale flush of your skin or the lingering haze in your eyes, but you tried anyway. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was written all over you, I just had sex.

When you finally made your way downstairs, every step felt like walking into a storm. Your body felt too warm, too obvious, but Sarah’s voice rang out before you could falter.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up as she rushed toward you. Her arms wrapped around you tightly, her excitement genuine and bright. “Dad told me you were upstairs, but I thought he was joking!”

Joel stood in the living room doorway behind her, leaning casually against the frame, his arms crossed. His gaze met yours, careful and unreadable, but the tension between you was a living thing, humming beneath the surface. And then, as Sarah beamed at you, reality crashed over you like a wave.

Travis.

Sienna.

Joel.

And Sarah, looking at you like this was the happiest day of her life.

“What should we do for dinner?” Sarah asked, turning to you expectantly. You opened your mouth, fumbling for a response, but your thoughts were spinning too fast. Your heart was pounding, your pulse roaring in your ears. You glanced at Joel, hoping for a lifeline, but he looked just like you; completely lost.

“Oh, I know,” Sarah said, her tone bright with enthusiasm. “Let’s invite Travis!”

“Sarah,” Joel warned sharply, his voice cutting through her excitement.

“What?” she asked innocently, glancing between the two of you.

“Don’t be nosy,” he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction.

Sarah only laughed, brushing off his scolding. She turned back to you, her expression softening.

“Did my dad apologize to you yet?” she asked conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a mock whisper. “It’s about time.”

Her words hung in the air, a weight that neither you nor Joel seemed willing to touch. And as her laughter echoed around you, you forced a smile, though your mind was already spinning, trying desperately to figure out what to say—or what to do next.

It was too much.

[ganxiously]

This is the part of the helicopter crash fic I started writing today. I don't know if I'm going to post it to ao3 but I did want to share it here. Now, this first update is angst so read at your own risk, but it will be a happy ending, I promise. This is Tommy's pov and I'll be back with Buck's side of things and the aftermath as soon as I have finished writing them —

The silence is stark in the aftermath and Tommy’s ears ring like they are still expecting the screech of the altitude alarms or the roar of metal crashing into rocks and trees. He’s not sure what happened, one moment he was flying his helo back to Harbour and the next, the altitude alarms started going off one by one. He had tried to fix it, tried to pull the bird up even as it became amply clear that nothing was working. They had dropped fast, swinging this side and that with the wind and then his tail had hit the cliffside, sending him and his medic rolling down the mountain in a 30-tonne metal can. He doesn’t know what happened to her, Amy, a new recruit with a penchant for keeping to herself. That’s why they worked together so well, a good thing until it led them here.

“Amy?”, he manages to ask, his voice coming out hoarse. “Medic Garcia?”

There is nothing. Not even the sound of feeble breaths. Tommy swallows the burgeoning feeling of grief and panic and tries to think of a way out. It’s dead of the night, the scenery outside the broken glass of his wind-screen pitch black, the flickering lights of the city not even visible from where he’s landed. He tries to move himself and then immediately freezes as the pain threatens to take away his consciousness. 

This is bad, he thinks. I don’t know how to get out of this one.

He is still strapped into his harness and beneath that, his flight suit is soaked with blood. It feels tacky and slippery against his skin, enough of it that he knows wherever it’s coming from, it’s not good news. It’s not survivable. His legs are pinned and he’s pretty sure the wet feeling around his eyes is blood. His ribs hurt and when he tries to move his hands, his shoulders refuse to bear the weight.

Oh, I am definitely not getting out of this one.

The realisation hits like G during a rapid climb and for the first time in long while, Tommy’s scared. He is terrified, as terrified as he hasn’t been since he was a wet-behind-his-ears boy seeing war for the first time. He thinks his hands would shake if he could move them that fast, his breath would stutter if it already wasn’t, wheezing past the damage, past the blood and tickling at his lips.  He doesn’t want to die like this, the thought occurs to him. He doesn’t want to die at all. He wants to turn back time and return to those scant months when he had been, for once, truly happy. He wants . . . he wants Evan. Beside him, holding his hand, his fingers tracing the lines on Tommy’s palm as he talks about anything and everything that comes to his mind.

Maybe that is the thing about impending death. Its finality, its loneliness puts things into perspective really fast. When he had all the time in the world, he had faltered, he had a thousand and one excuses ready as to why it was a bad idea. Now that Tommy’s out of time, there is not one that seems to hold up to reason. He wants Evan, he loves Evan and he should have told him that when he still had the chance. He should have spent every second he had left loving him.

He somehow manages to take his phone out of his pocket, surprised to see that it’s still mostly intact, except for the one thin crack down the middle. He thumbs it open and there he is, brushed golden in the sun and laughing at something Tommy had said. It’s a damn shame he can’t remember anymore what that something had been. There’s no cell service on his phone, which is bad but it also relieves him. He doesn’t have to make a 911 call, only to tell them they are already too late and like this, he won’t give in to the urge to hear Evan’s voice one last time.

He opens their message thread like he has done so many times these past couple of weeks, typing and deleting messages that never seem to be able to convey his complicated thoughts. He clicks on the typing bar, watches the keyboard pop up and then just keeps on staring, looking at the bloody fingerprint on his screen as he tries to think of what to write. What last words do you text your ex-boyfriend who you broke up with? That I’m sorry and I think I’m an even bigger asshole than you probably think I am?

The pain in his body notches up, so spread out that he barely knows where it originates from and he grits his teeth with an effort to keep himself from screaming. Eventually, it passes and Tommy takes the opportunity to click on the voice message button to the right.

“Buck.”

He hates that name on his tongue. 

“Evan.”, he starts and then stops again because it still doesn’t feel enough. It doesn’t feel like it encapsulates everything Tommy associates with that name — the warmth, the safety, the incredulous how is he real? and the helpless adoration that he just can’t seem to keep at bay no matter how much he tries. So, he gives it one more shot, “Evan. My Evan. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about a million things.”

A cough stops him, the movement jostling him enough that pain rips through him anew and he is left gasping and sobbing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay away. I’m sorry I didn’t leave earlier and I’m sorry I left when I did . . . I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He swallows the blood in his mouth or at least, he tries to but all of it comes out with the next cough.

“I should have stuck around. I should have stayed and I should have loved you as long as you let me. I should . . . I should have told you I love you. Even—even if you don’t and that’s okay. You should— you shouldn’t love someone like me but that was no reason to not tell you I did. I just . . . I should have loved you as hard as I could while I still had the chance, Evan. You, at least, deserved that.”

He’s getting colder by the second and the part of his brain that still works, tells him that he is going into shock. Tommy’s running out of time and he’s running out of time fast.

“I don’t want to die.”, he manages to say through the sobs racking through his throat. He thinks he should feel pain but there isn’t anything beyond numbness anymore, “I don’t want to die and I don’t want to go through death alone. I want you . . .”

No, but that’s not right, is it? He doesn’t want Evan in this mess. Evan doesn’t deserve to get hurt again just to accompany Tommy in his last moments. He should be far away, happy, healthy and at peace. Maybe it is better that they broke up. If this was always supposed to be the end, it is surely better that Evan no doubt hates Tommy a little bit now. Maybe, if he’s lucky, Evan will leave a flower on his grave one day.

“I really wanted to be your last, you know?”, he finally says after a minute of silence, the words spilling out almost conversationally, long after he thought he’s run out of things to say. “But more than that, I wanted you to be my last and I’m happy that I got it, even if it’s not in the way I wanted it to be.”

And it's so fucking typical of him, isn’t it? He is being so selfish right now, ruining Evan’s life like this just so he can get some things off his chest. And he knows Evan, he knows what this message will do to him. Evan will go through life with the burden of Tommy’s regret on his shoulders and he hates how tempting that thought is, that if not in his heart, Tommy’s existence will at least have a place in the scars he carries for the rest of his life.

Here lies Tommy Kinard. He’s the bastard that broke my heart once upon a time.

But no, he can’t do that to Evan. He’s been selfish when he kissed Evan the first time, when they decided to give it a second try and when he hurt Evan to protect himself. He’s been selfish every moment that he managed to steal in between.

“Nevermind.”, he breathes out, smiling through the blood that’s threatening to choke him. “Nevermind, Evan. You— you don’t need to know all that. You should forget me. Forget there was ever a Tommy Kinard who loved you. Live a happy life and maybe . . . maybe in our next one, I’ll get to keep you. I’ll delete this now. I would have deleted myself out of your life too if I could’ve but this will have to do. I’m really outta time here, kid.”

He tries to blink away the blind spots around the edges of his vision but he’s fading fast. He fights against the unmoored feeling that is taking over, tries to swipe his screen in hopes of deleting the message but his hands are too slick and too weak to do anything anymore. The phone slips from his grasp and falls with a thunk somewhere near his feet, not that it matters. Not when he can barely remember what he was doing with the phone in the first place. Something to do with Evan. Maybe.

He huffs at his uselessness.

“Evan.”, his lips shape the word with care even though his voice doesn’t quite manage to colour it fully but it’s enough. It’s enough to have that be the last thing he speaks, to be the last thing he thinks about. The name washes away the cold like dawning sunrise on a crisp winter morning and Tommy is at peace, he is content.

“Tommy?”

That’s Evan’s voice. He has to go. He has to answer. He has to—

[wutheringwisteria]

Previous Post(s): [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

Requested tags: @ninastasia0 @wolfsune09 @mybanditskeletoncowboy @angieluvssalami @silas-222

It all started with a dead bird as a gift from Jimmy to get you both acquainted.

Unsettling, and unwelcomed. But Curly had persisted you to accept it, even though he himself was a little disturbed by it. That was how you met Jimmy, a kid who shared the same class as you and Curly. He was a quiet one, and acted up a lot.

You don't know how those two clicked and became best friends. Maybe it was because Curly's optimistic view of people, or Jimmy is an excellent manipulator who managed to take control of Curly. You and the latter had a rocky relationship, barely even counted as friends.

He was like a cat. Specifically a cat that has every worst possible trait it could have. He mainly brought you dead things, birds, squirrels, bunnies, etc. and claimed that it was some symbolic way to show his appreciation towards you. Yeah, even if there were those sort of traditions, you did not accept any of Jimmy's gifts.

You tolerated it at best, foolishly believing Curly's words that "He's just different than others" and with some time, you and Jimmy would get along like two peas in a pod.

It didn't get better. In fact, his behavior towards you became even worse, turning into something darker—more obsessive. Jimmy had a sick sense of pleasure when seeing you cry or be distressed. He also had a liking in seeing you bleed.

So he was a lot more rough when hanging out with you and Curly, purposely provoking you into throwing hands, only to fight back and give you a bruise or two. He loved the way blood looked on you. Sadistic bastard. But that didn't mean he came out unscathed in your guys' little fights.

To add more to his derangement, he was also a goddamn masochist. Not only did he love to inflict pain, he desired to be hurt back. And little ol' violent you gave him exactly just that. Now you're both covered in blood in the aftermath of your scuffles, and poor Curly had to be mediator and nurse for the two of you.

"C'mon, princess. You call that a punch?" He'd laugh, mocking you while bleeding from his nose.

"Fuck off." You'd glare and sneer back in response.

🫧

In the present...

Red. All you could see was red, both figuratively and literally. Jimmy's face was a bloody mess, and your eyes were stained with both yours and his blood. You had caught him off guard for a moment, and you planned to just plant the axe on his leg so he couldn't move.

But the man had instincts, and he managed to narrowly avoid getting his limb chopped off and disarm the weapon from you. The axe was now a few feet away from the both of you, but you didn't care and turned the whole thing into a brutal fistfight instead.

A right hook delivered to his jaw, making him stagger back. He counters with a direct punch to your chest—which made you wheeze out the air knocked out. He took the chance to deliver another punch, aiming for your nose this time. It connects, but you didn't let the pain distract you as you retort with a left hook. It hits him once more, and the force was enough to throw him off balance.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Y/N?!" He yelled out through red-stained gums, struggling despite his bigger stature.

"What I should've done a long time ago," you muttered, and then proceeded to grab Jimmy by the hair and slam his face down repeatedly on the metal pipes on the wall.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Now that you think about it, the Tulpar could use a nice shade of red.

You were sure that he had broken his nose by the sheer force you're putting your adrenaline-filled body in. "You think you can get away with shit like that, huh? Well you're dead wrong, Jimmy. I won't hesitate to kill you where you stand." You sneered, barely able to contain your anger.

You let go of him and he fell down to the ground, clutching his messed up face and groaning. "What... what the hell are you talking about, you crazy bitch...?!" He glared at you, looking like he didn't commit a heinous act towards a coworker.

You walked towards where the axe was and picked it up. You take your time walking back to Jimmy's fallen and battered form. "I'm the crazy one? Fucking hypocrite." You scoffed, almost sounding amused. "Oh, well. Think whatever you want, because those will be your last thoughts."

You ready the axe, and Jimmy tried to crawl away. But it was futile as you neared. You pressed the sole of your shoe on the back of his thigh, making him groan loudly in pain. Holding the axe up, you were about to kill him right then and there, but someone spoke up.

"Y/N!"

You didn't turn or move an inch, instantly recognizing the shocked voice of Curly's. "What... what are you doing?!" When you didn't answer, it only made him even more worried. "Put... put the axe down, Y/N. Whatever Jimmy did, surely it could be fixed in—"

"No." You cut him off sharply. "I already told you this, Curly. He is not someone to be trusted, he is not a good person," you glared down at Jimmy's writhing body below you. "I don't know what you see in him, but he is a monster that isn't capable of redemption."

"Y/N—"

"I'm going to say it again, I'm doing what I should've done a long time ago."

Curly sucks in a breath, his heart practically going a thousand beats per second. No, no, this can't be happening. So with no other choice, he pulls out the gun he grabbed earlier in the cockpit and aimed it at the back of your head. "Y/N. We don't have to do this."

You sighed. "Oh, but we do. Are you really pulling a gun on me right now, Curly?" You mused, tone dripping with false casualness. You still haven't looked back at him, keeping Jimmy on the brink of getting chopped off.

"Y/N," he calls out your name for the nth time. "Put down the axe, and tell me what the fuck is going on."

"It's simple. Just open your fucking eyes, Curly!"

He freezes for a moment, taken aback by your anger. "What do you mean...?"

"Do you know what this man did to Anya?"

At the mention of the nurse's name, Jimmy looked up at you with shock and anger plastered on his face. "The hell...? What did that whore tell you—?!"

You stomp on his leg, shutting him up. You meet his eyes. "That's right. I know what you did, Jimmy." Your grip on the axe tightened, so much so that your hand started to hurt. "And I'm going to kill you for it."

"Damn it," Curly places his thumb down the revolver's hammer. "Y/N, don't you dare make another move!"

Curly doesn't want to do this, but his job as Captain was to maintain peace and order in the Tulpar. But two of his most important people are at each other's throats right now, and he needed to make a decision before things get out of hand.

You suddenly swung the axe down.

Curly barely had the time to think, but instead of pulling the trigger, he froze.

...

...

...

"HAIYAA!" Daisuke pops out of nowhere, lunging at you before the blade could come in contact with Jimmy's face. "I'm super sorry about this, Y/N!" The former yelled, immediately wrapping his arms around your torso and keeping you pinned on the ground.

"What the fu—! Daisuke! Get off!"

Swansea appeared along with Anya. "Jesus, never in my life would I be running a marathon inside a spaceship," wheezed out Swansea. After catching his breath, he went over and snatched the axe from your hands with the help of Daisuke.

Anya had her mouth covered, body tense as she takes in the bloody sight. "Oh, Y/N..."

Curly snaps out of his stunned state, putting the gun down and rushing towards his friend. "Shit, Jimmy. Looks like she got you good, huh?" He tries to make light in the situation, but horribly fails when Jimmy glared and cursed at him under his breath.

The captain moved his head towards the nurse. "Anya, can you help me with this?"

Anya hesitates before nodding. "O-Of course..." she takes one glance at you before going to assist Curly with Jimmy.

Daisuke kept a firm grip on you as he and Swansea helped you up. His face shows uncertainty, and his head was probably filled with a hundred different questions on why you wanted to kill Jimmy.

"What do we do with her, boss?" He looked at Swansea.

"We drag her ass to the medical room, that's what." Replied gruffly Swansea. He was showing disappointment and exasperation as he looks down on your form. Bloody and high on adrenaline. For a moment, you looked just like his eldest when she got into her first cat fight.

"No..." you muttered through gritted teeth, struggling against their hold. "You guys don't understand, I need—"

"What you need are painkillers, bandages, and a damn good explanation to tell me what the hell you were going to do." Swansea interrupts you, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Anya's worried eyes flickered over to you, but she only pursed her lips together and continued helping Curly.

Swansea and Daisuke began dragging you down the hall, despite your attempts to break free. You and Jimmy locked eyes once more.

"I'm going to fucking kill you." You mouthed.

And the bastard had the audacity to smirk at your words.

[gffa]

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii

Do you take rec requests? If so, can I ask for your recs for Obi Wan centric fics where Obi Wan is just absolutely adored by everyone around him? Like people love him, think he's great, beautiful, talented, etc. you could also include fics where Anakin isn't one of his adoring fans but he comes around eventually. If you've ever read the Shoulder The Sky series by @kcrabb88 ? Where Anakin is kind of weird about Obi Wan in the beginning but he'd die for him at the end? Yeah like that.

Preferably no Obitine please, and also no order 66, if you would. They can be fix its or maybe they just don't get to order 66 in canon. Long and short is fine. I just want to read fic to justify my absolute rabidity over Obi Wan Kenobi.

Yknow if you're going to answer the ask? Might as well include every fic that you know that portrays Obi Wan very well. Whether everyone thinks so or not, I just want an excuse to fangirl over Obi Wan. Whether it's cute adorable initiate obi wan; smart skilled Padawan Kenobi, best master in the galaxy Kenobi, best general in the gar Kenobi, unfuckwithable Kenobi that everyone knows not to piss off, the Jedi's best member, whatever. Just fics of obi wan being great, whether people acknowledge it and love him, or acknowledge it and go still like prey animals when he looks at them

Hi! Oh, this is going to be a bit of a difficult set, mostly because avoiding Order 66 is a tough one, and I'm not sure how you are with various Obi-Wan pairings (which tend to have some good Obi-Wan fic), but I can at least start you out with a few recs sets I've done that have a lot of Obi-Wan fic and hopefully the Order 66 fic will be pretty avoidable.

My Star Wars fic recs tag (pretty much anything that mentions Obi-Wan in the subject will treat him well)

Obi-Wan Kenobi epic fic

Post-OBW's first two episodes-centric set

It's hard because some of my favorites:

Reprise by Elfpen (absolutely epic time travel fic that does the really good, hard work of showing us the timeline shifting and why it has to be done in baby steps)

Fire and Ice by Yesac (set in an AU where Order 66 happened, but Anakin won the fight and took both Obi-Wan and Padme hostage, and it's about the incredibly long road to recovery from there, which does have some love = attachment minor, minor notes, but has an Obi-Wan characterization that was fundamental to how I see the character)

Aren't necessarily about Order 66, but it does happen in both those fics, as something that's either being avoided or fixing the aftermath of them, and I'm not sure where you stand on such things, since you don't want Order 66. Same for

The Desert Storm by Blue_Sunshine (time travel AU where Order 66 happened in Ben's timeline, but not in the one the fic is set during)

Knightrise by deviantaccumulation (this one includes Order 66 happening on-screen, but it's an AU where more Jedi survive and they go into hiding together to rebuild)

where it's time travel to fix things, is that still over your line? Is it about the other characters that love Obi-Wan or the narrative of the story that loves Obi-Wan, because that would change a lot of the recs I make! Not that he's unloved in them, but Cataclasm by dendral is one of my favorites, but it has Obi-Wan off on his own a lot of the time, so the narrative loves him, but the people around him aren't in the room with him, etc. I also have a Jedi culture set of recs, which you can scroll through to find Obi-Wan mentioned in the summary, it's probably going to be about how much everyone loves him. But some good places to start for you would be:

ruth baulding's Lineage series and then her Legacy series. The first series is an epic length run of adventures when Obi-Wan was a padawan with Qui-Gon, and then the second series is his time teaching Anakin, with more adventures

Remedial Jedi Theology by MarbleGlove, a fantastic look at Jedi theology, philosophy, and interaction, with Obi-Wan in a prominent role.

Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi stonefreeak, which is crack treated seriously, very Jedi-positive, and while it's an ensemble piece overall, Obi-Wan is very much at the heart of the story and the focus will always come back to him. Just so much fun and very soft on the heart, this is a universe where everything goes right.

Tano and Kenobi by FireflyFish, which is a time travel fic where Ahsoka goes back into the past and becomes Padawan Obi-Wan's Master instead of Qui-Gon. The fic is kind of harsh on Qui-Gon, but if you love the disaster lineage or if you just want more Obi-Wan & Ahsoka, this fic will scratch the itch so good.

Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) Rhiw, another time travel fic where Order 66 did happen, but the fic is about Legends!Obi-Wan taking a different path from what happened in the first Jedi Apprentice book, instead of becoming Qui-Gon's Padawan the way he did in canon, he and Bruck go to Bandomeer and then get wrapped up in an epic story about Obi-Wan slowly changing the galaxy's course.

walk by faith/tell no one what you've seen by Killbothtwins, which is time travel with Obi-Wan after the end of the galactic civil war (the one against the Empire) going back to his 12 year old self and diverting the timeline, with a really great voice for Obi-Wan's character in this fic.

The Uses of a Sandwich by Laura Kaye (laurakaye) is a fun young Padawan Obi-Wan fic where he meets Qui-Gon's first apprentice and has a great sense of comedy.

Uncle Ben and Little Luke by phoenixyfriend which is de-aged!Luke and suddenly alive again!Obi-Wan and is just so much fun for a dynamic that doesn't get enough fic. (NEVER ENOUGH.)

Well Met by avocadomoon is one if you don't mind Obi-Wan/Padme fic, where they develop a friendship and later in life just slowly fall into a relationship, where it's about discussions and politics and philosophy and worldbuilding, it's such a subtle dynamic between them in a way that felt so natural to me. I also enjoyed the author's other fic Anamorphosis just as much, too.

[diminuel]

In the fun little Roger/Garp idea (AU?), if they are the parents of Ace, would Ace know who his mother is? Would that impact Garp and Ace's relationship? Would Dragon still end up his little brother as a son?

Delightful question, thank you! Pondering this kind of insanity is just what I need!

I think we need to figure out what the setting for this is.

Let's go with a scenario where Garp (who I assume is a woman, since you mentioned her being Ace's mom) is unable to deny Roger his preposterous dying wish of leaving a legacy in the world. She'd already be pissed because they have Dragon, is that not enough? Roger's going to die and the thing he's worried about is legacy? But she can't say no to him no matter how frustrating the bastard is. She doesn't want him to go with regrets.

But then the asshole goes and causes a new age of piracy and suddenly Garp's life is going to be a lot more complicated.

As a marine, Garp has her hands full. She's already worrying about her oldest making bad choices in the aftermath of his dad's death and now there's a hunt on for any potential blood that Roger might have, any women connected to him, any children he could have fathered.

And for some reason Dragon was flying under the radar, she was flying under the radar (maybe Sengoku was running interference, you never know) but this kid? Something tells her that the child that Roger wanted to be his legacy is not going to be so lucky, that the burden of his will and his name is going to be Ace's ruin.

Hiding the kid is probably going to be the best course of action. And maybe Dragon doesn't know about Ace and doesn't find out until he seeks a safe place for his own child. Garp might just recognize this as some strange turn of face. If Dragon wants to risk raising this kid with his warlord wife/husband? Well, here's another one. Good luck. (Dragon would be used to his mom's brand of insanity so this doesn't even shock him too much and since he didn't tell her about Crocodile and Luffy until he absolutely had to, he can't even be grumpy with her.)

And maybe if Ace and Luffy grow up together Garp is granny to Ace too. Though I think Ace would know? And it probably wouldn't make him feel great. Dragon was one thing - Roger probably wasn't even a pirate by the time Dragon was born - but Ace's mom made the decision that he should be born into a world that she knew would hate him. And once he was born she didn't even want him. I think it could really mess with Ace. And no amount of supportive (adoptive) parents would fix it properly. And Marineford would be a hot mess, even worse than it already is now. >w<

And of course we can go with a sillier version where things aren't that dire. Garp could be chaotic and just drop the child on Dragon with a "I'm too old for this, it's time for you to stop your stupid revolutionary fancies and start being a responsible family man!!" (And maybe Roger is alive too in his version. Ace would find both of them very annoying. Garp would always be very offended - in an exaggerated way - when Ace would call her grandma, refusing to call her mom. They'd just be Grandma and Roger to Ace even though Dragon would always make sure to call them mom and dad to maybe get Ace to pick it up, but no. Ace decided that Dragon is his dad and Luffy is his brother, he will not hear anything else. Maybe once he meets Whitebeard he's gonna find another dad and then Dragon would be offended. Crocodile would also be offended because he objects to WB on principle X'D)

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirates Promise

Chapter 51: Aftermath 

A/N: And we are back at it again, with a new chapter! This chapter is crazy also! We have a Sanji POV… Y/N POV… Nami POV… Brook POV… Ichiji POV… Its a whole lot of POVs here, and we even some mild spice. But yall we still haven't gotten to the good parts yet and we still have some more hardships for y/n and Sanji. We also got a little seducing in here, as well.  Thank you guys for following, liking, reblogging, and commenting! Without further ado let the adventure begin!

Sanji x Reader, One Piece X Reader, Sanji X Y/N

Nami POV…

"Jinbei! Do you think you can break us free?" I yelled, hope swelling in my chest.

Jinbei tried to break the bars with his powerful technique, but it didn’t work. My heart sank. "It failed..." I muttered.

"Should’ve known, that was Montd’Or’s work," Jinbei said, analyzing the situation. Before I could lose hope, Luffy jumped right back in. "Okay! Back to Plan A!" he declared, ready to break his arms again.

"Luffy! No!" I cried out, panic rising in my voice. "Hold on, wait!" Jinbei interrupted. He held up a torch, his eyes glinting with a new plan. "These books are susceptible to fire!"

"Wait, you’re going to torch the cage... with us inside?" I yelled in disbelief.

"Just get out of the enclosure once you’re free!" Jinbei said with confidence, but I wasn’t so sure.

"But what if we can’t?!" I protested, frantically thinking of what could go wrong.

Jinbei remained calm. "It’s your only option for escape, time is running out, and the other choices aren’t that great," he said, making the situation clear.

Luffy, of course, was already all in. "Alright, go!" he shouted, a grin plastered across his face.

"That quick?! Wait! I’m not ready!" I shrieked as Jinbei set the book on fire. The flames caught instantly, and I could feel the heat rising. "No! My dress is on fire!" I screamed, watching in horror as the flames crept closer.

Luffy grabbed me quickly, pulling me out of the cage as Jinbei doused us with water. I stood there, drenched but free, trying to catch my breath. "Haha! We’re free now!" Luffy cheered triumphantly.

"Damn it..." I muttered, trying to cover myself as best as I could, my burned dress clinging to me. "Why do I feel like I’ve been through something like this before?" I grumbled, frustrated but relieved.

As I glanced around, I noticed Y/N’s satchel—still intact despite the fire. The faint violet glow and hue from before were beginning to fade. "At least these are safe," I thought with relief, clutching the bag close to me.

"You survived! Well done," Jinbei said with a proud smile as Luffy laughed heartily.

I quickly changed into another outfit, one that one of the other prisoners had handed me. "Thanks a bunch, Jinbei," I said, grateful as I adjusted the new clothes.

Suddenly, I heard a shout in the distance. "The screams came from the prison library!" yelled a soldier, alerting the others.

"We better move fast," I muttered, feeling the tension rise again.

“Damn it, I'm so weak, too hungry,” Luffy grumbled, his stomach growling in protest. Despite his exhaustion, his resolve remained as strong as ever. He turned to Jinbei, giving him a grateful look. "Anyway, Jinbei, thank you!" Luffy added, the urgency in his voice clear.

“Things are pretty bad as is, we were all tricked—Sanji included. I have to warn him!” Luffy said, his steps quickening as he headed up the stairs.

“Jinbei, take care of Nami for me.” His voice echoed down the hallway.

He turned back for a brief moment and looked at me with determination. “Nami, find Y/N and warn her!” he called, the weight of the task heavy on his shoulders.

I nodded, my heart racing as I clenched Y/N’s satchel closer to me. "I will, Luffy. You be careful, okay?" I shouted back, hoping he'd hear me as he disappeared up the stairs.

I looked at Jinbei, who nodded firmly. Time was running out. We had to find Y/N before things got any worse.

Sanji POV… 

I sat next to Reiju, my mind racing as I finished recounting everything I had witnessed—from start to finish. Pudding’s deception, her cruel mockery, and how Y/N had barged in, risking everything to try and save Reiju. I even told her about Y/N’s speech, the one she gave before Pudding erased her memory.

“Think I’m lying?” I asked, my voice low but steady.

Reiju shook her head, a soft look in her eyes. “I don’t. I know you would never mislead me.” She sighed. “I was wary of Pudding, but I didn’t imagine her to be this devious.” Her gaze shifted to Y/N, still resting peacefully. “I knew there was a reason why I was quite fond of her,” Reiju said softly. “And the fact that she risked her life for me...”

“She had her suspicions of Pudding, too,” I added, remembering Y/N’s sharp instincts. “She called it a woman’s intuition.”

Reiju chuckled softly at that, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile. I looked at Y/N, her bandaged form resting so still, and my heart ached with regret. I wanted to reach out, to take her hand and feel that warmth again, but I stopped myself. I didn’t deserve to touch her—not yet.

“Will you tell her what happened? Since she’ll only remember you and Pudding being... intimate?” Reiju asked gently.

I shook my head, barely able to whisper, “No...” The words felt heavy in my throat. “I’ll tell her my feelings once more, when I’m ready again. I don’t want to make her think I’m lying just to save face. Hell Pudding erased so much of her memory that it, might overwhelm her”

I glanced at Y/N again, a soft sadness filling my chest. “Knowing her, she’ll be mad... but with her heart as big as it is, she’ll forgive me in due time.” I let out a shaky breath. “I want to do right by her, Reiju. So this is my cross to bear.”

Reiju nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. I let out a deep sigh, unable to shake the weight of everything pressing down on me. "I really screwed up," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I thought... if I accepted the marriage, I would save my crewmates." I stared down at my hands, the guilt eating at me. "And all I needed to do was stop Y/N’s wedding to Ichiji. But that was never in the cards—it was all a ploy. Of course, I thought it would all work out if I took one for the team." I gripped my hair, frustration boiling inside me.

"They fooled our father too," Reiju said, her voice calm but laced with bitterness. "He’s a wise man, but filled with arrogance. He’s dealing with an emperor. We should have been more cautious, but... I believe that Germa should be destroyed."

I blinked at her, shocked at her resolve. "I’d like to pretend I’m ignorant and let Big Mom carry out her plan," she continued.

"Don’t be stupid, Reiju! They’ll kill you too!" I yelled, a bit too loud, causing Y/N to slightly stir in her sleep. I lowered my voice but kept the urgency. "Not only that, but they’ll still kill Y/N." My mind flashed back to all the dangers we’d faced, and the thought of Y/N being caught in that crossfire—it was unbearable.

"Leave the past where it lies," Reiju said softly. "We are beyond that. You don’t owe me a single thing. I only helped you once before."

"Y/N doesn’t owe me a single thing either," she added, her gaze turning to Y/N, who remained peaceful despite everything. "Go, find the Strawhats. Take Y/N and leave this island, Sanji."

"Like how?! I can’t do that!" I snapped, the frustration overwhelming me again. "What do you think will happen to the Baratie? Hell, what do you think will happen to King and all those people on that island that Y/N loves and cares for?! we can’t just leave them all behind!"

"Just run. Figure it out and escape. Stay here, and all of you will die," Reiju said firmly. "Sanji, you have to live—for our mother’s sake."

"Why bring her up...?" I muttered, the pain of that memory still raw.

Reiju took a deep breath and began to explain. "Our mother did everything she could to protect you quadruplets from losing your humanity. Father forced the surgery on her, but our mother... she took a toxin in an attempt to foil his plan." Reiju’s voice softened with each word, the weight of the memory evident in her tone. "It was a powerful drug, strong enough to manipulate the elements."

I could feel my heart clench. I knew our mother suffered, but I never knew the full extent.

"But for Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji, they were already showing signs of the genetic mutation," Reiju continued. "You, though... you had compassion. While mother began to show weakness, you—"

"She died because of me!" I interrupted, my voice breaking under the weight of that realization. "I caused her death!"

"Nonsense! Don’t think that way!" Reiju snapped, surprising me with the intensity of her words. "You brought our mother genuine happiness every single day. Even though she passed, her kindness still lives on in you, Sanji. She selfishly died to protect and save your humanity. You are the future she wanted to see."

Her words hit me hard, but they also brought a sense of peace—a peace I hadn’t felt in years. I sat there, trying to absorb everything she’d just told me. Our mother, the sacrifice she made, the humanity she fought to preserve in me—it wasn’t all for nothing. I had to live up to that. For her, for Reiju... for Y/N.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through the heavy silence, groggy but unmistakable. Y/N turned to her left, blinking softly trying to adjust her vision.

"Hey, Reiju..." Y/N's soft voice cut through, and both of us turned our attention toward her. She was still waking up, her eyes half-lidded as she pushed herself up, a tired but amused smile tugging at her lips. "You should’ve seen the look on Ichiji’s face when after breakfast he asked me to have dinner with him… and it didn't go as smoothly as he planned. Her smile widened, clearly recalling the moment. Even though she was still recovering, Y/N had a knack for finding light in the darkest situations.

Y/N’s smile widened, but her eyes held a mix of hurt and confusion that made my chest tighten. Reiju gave me a subtle look—one telling me it was time to go, that she would fill Y/N in on some of the details. I trusted her, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that followed me as Y/N turned her attention to me.

"Sanji... come here," Y/N said softly, though her voice carried an edge I couldn’t ignore.

I hesitated for a second, but then I made my way over to her slowly, unsure of what to expect. Before I could react, she grabbed my hand with a surprising grip—and with her right hand, she punched me square on the head.

"Owww! What was that for?!" I yelled, clutching my throbbing skull.

"For what you did with Pudding!" she snapped back, her tone fiery. But just as quickly, she winced, holding her own head. "Damn it, why does it feel like I’ve been hit with a battering ram again..." she muttered, the irritation clear in her voice.

I stumbled back slightly, rubbing my head, but before I could think of getting up, Y/N pulled me into an embrace that took my breath away. Her arms wrapped around me tightly, a silent message saying, I’m glad you’re here. The warmth between us melted the tension, if only for a moment.

“You know, Sanji…” she began, her voice soft but laced with an undercurrent of pain. “I’m still hurt, and it’s going to take time for me to process everything… especially after seeing you with her, doing something so intimate.”

Her words pierced me like a dagger, and I braced myself for the worst. “You must hate me for what I did…” I whispered, struggling to meet her gaze.

Y/N held my gaze steadily, and her next words took me by surprise. “Hate is a strong word, Sanji… I should, but I don’t.” Her honesty hit me hard. In that moment, I saw the depth of pain I had caused her. Her eyes, which once sparkled with affection, now bore a weight of sorrow. The spark was flickering, but the pain remained.

“It’ll take time for me to trust you again, let alone stop being mad at you,” she said, her voice firm yet gentle. But then, to my astonishment, she pulled my head into her chest, and my hands instinctively found their way around her waist, unsure of how to respond. She kissed the top of my head, a soothing gesture that sent shivers down my spine.

“But… despite all that… I still care a lot about you. You mean a lot to me… Ji.” The nickname she had given me a while back sent my heart racing. My breath hitched as warmth flooded my chest.

“Does this mean you’ll never let me go?” I swooned, gazing up at her with wide eyes. “Ohhh, princess, I do!” I declared dramatically, imagining this moment as a proposal.

Suddenly, I felt the ground shift beneath me, my heart pounding so loud it echoed in my ears. I dropped to my knees, clutching my chest in an exaggerated show of affection. “Ohh dear ocean! What have I done to deserve this angel’s kindness?” I yelled, letting the theatrics take over.

“Now, Sanji…” Y/N started, but I cut her off, unable to contain my feelings any longer.

“I am utterly unworthy of your grace!” I continued, my voice rising to a near crescendo. “How could I ever repay you for this moment?”

The sincerity in her gaze made my heart swell, even as I realized the truth behind her words. I was still in the deep waters of her hurt, but there was a flicker of hope in her eyes that told me all was not lost.

Y/N shook her head, trying to suppress a smile. "Listen, I’m going to keep resting. You keep doing what you’re doing." With that, she pulled the covers over her head, hiding her face and stifling a laugh.

"Sanji, go..." Reiju urged, gently nudging me to pick up the basket filled with food and wine and walk out of the ward.

I turned to the left and settled into a chair just outside, feeling the weight of everything that had transpired pressing on my shoulders.

Y/N POV…

As I continued to hide under the covers, pretending to sleep, I heard a faint click at the door. My heart raced with curiosity, and I peeked out to find Reiju smiling at me. “Now, mind telling me how you and I got here?” I asked, a laugh escaping my lips despite the pain radiating through my body.

“All I remember is that I electrocuted some soldiers, and one of them shot me on the side and hit my head,” I continued, trying to piece together the fragmented memories.

“Y/N, the truth is, you were right about Pudding,” Reiju said, and my heart sank.

“I knew it!” I winced as I spoke, still feeling the dull throb in my head.

“I was weary of Pudding, so I followed her. That was when she shot me. I thought I was done for until you came breaking through her door,” Reiju explained.

“Ha!” I exclaimed, clenching my fists as both fire and electricity surged through my body, invigorating me. “These are pretty handy,” I said, feeling the rush of power before unclenching my fists.

“Not only that, but Pudding also altered your memory,” Reiju continued. My heart dropped as I processed this information. So that’s why everything is fuzzy and hazy.

“She also plans to kill you and Sanji, along with your crew and the Vinsmokes, me included,” Reiju added, her expression serious.

I looked at her, my anger bubbling to the surface. “Over my dead body am I going to allow that bitch to cause any harm. Hell, she’s going to have to fight me for round two!” I declared, the determination in my voice overshadowing the ache in my head.

“Damn it!” I muttered, wincing at the throbbing headache.

“Why did you save me?” Reiju asked, her eyes searching mine.

I turned to her and smiled. “You showed kindness to me, along with covering for me in order to memorize the library to find my captain and Nami. On top of that, I was able to get back my blade. It’s the least I could do.”

“I knew there was a reason why I was fond of you,” she said, laughing, which made me chuckle in return.

Just then, a familiar voice rang out. “Sanji!”

“That’s Luffy!” I said, a wave of relief washing over me. As I tried to get up, I winced again, looking at my injured side. “Damn, that bitch shot me good,” I muttered under my breath.

Reiju stood, and just as Luffy got closer, she pulled him into the room and locked the door behind him. Luffy turned to look at her, confusion in his eyes. “It’s you!” he exclaimed.

"Luffy…" I said, my voice shaky as my heart swelled with happiness. His familiar, carefree grin lit up the moment he saw me, and before I could even process it, he pulled me into a tight hug. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, grounding me in the chaos around us, but I couldn't help but wince as the pressure on my injured side sent a sharp jolt of pain through me.

“Y/N! I’m so glad to see you!” Luffy’s voice was full of excitement and relief, but his expression quickly shifted when he felt my reaction. He pulled back slightly, his hands still on my shoulders, and his gaze immediately zeroed in on the bandages peeking out from under my clothes.

His carefree smile faded, replaced with a look of concern that was rare to see on his usually happy face. “Who did this to you?” he asked, his voice firm and steady, but I could hear the underlying anger building.

I hesitated, not wanting to worry him even more, but the concern flooding his voice made it impossible to brush it off. “It’s nothing, Luffy. I’ve had worse,” I tried to assure him, but his eyes narrowed, not buying my deflection for a second.

“Y/N, tell me,” he insisted, his grip on my shoulders tightening just a little, his determination unwavering. "Who. Did. This."

I sighed, knowing I couldn’t hide the truth from him, not when he looked at me like that. “It was Pudding,” I admitted quietly, the words heavy as they left my lips. Luffy's eyes widened for a second, but it wasn’t long before concern turned to fury in a heartbeat.

“Pudding?!" he growled, his fists clenching at his sides. The carefree energy he usually carried vanished, replaced by a dangerous intensity that sent a chill through the air. I nodded, though I tried to stir past that conversation, since we were short on time. 

“I’m glad you’re free! And Nami too?” I asked, needing to know more about my friends.

“Yup! She’s with Jinbe. She was going to look for you, but I guess I found you first, huh?” Luffy grinned, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Straw Hat, you’re looking for Sanji, aren’t you? He was here just a few minutes ago,” Reiju interjected.

“I need to warn Sanji,” Luffy said, his expression turning serious.

“What happened to your leg?” he asked, noticing Reiju’s injury.

“Thanks for asking, and Sanji is aware of the whole thing, as well as Y/N,” she replied, and Luffy’s eyes widened as he turned to me.

“You knew this whole time!” he yelled, his voice filled with shock.

“Hold on, Captain. I just found out her plan, as did Sanji,” I said quickly, trying to diffuse the tension.

“I tried to convince him to run away and escape with you and your crew, but he was worried about the East Blue hostages, as well as King and the others on that island,” Reiju explained, looking at me with understanding.

“He was…” I whispered, feeling a rush of concern for him.

“As well as the well-being of your crew,” she continued, her gaze steady.

“The East Blue hostages from the Baratie! Sanji’s friends are my friends, and I’ll go if they need my help! Same goes for Y/N; her friends and King are my friends!” Luffy declared, his resolve unwavering.

Hearing those words caused me to choke back a sob. “Luffy…” I said, my voice trembling with emotion. Just then, Luffy’s stomach let out a loud growl, breaking the tension in the room.

“Would you like something to eat?” Reiju offered, her tone gentle.

“I’m okay,” Luffy replied with a grin, brushing off the suggestion. “At least I don’t have to worry as much now. Sanji and Y/N know what Pudding’s up to.”

“Y/N! You ready to come with me?” Luffy asked, excitement radiating from him.

“As much as I want to, I’ve got to figure out a plan to keep my fiancée at bay for now. That way, if you do come up with a plan, we have enough time to execute it!” I explained, my mind racing with strategies.

“Just tell Nami to find me in the mirrors and to make sure she still has my weapons,” I added, a smile creeping onto my face.

“You got it!” Luffy said enthusiastically, then smashed the window as he prepared to leap into action. “I’ll find Sanji!”

“Wait, he realizes that’s the wrong way to Sanji, right?” Reiju asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

“Don’t worry about it,” I reassured her, chuckling at Luffy’s reckless spirit. “Now, I might need your help with a plan I have brewing.”

Reiju raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. “Alright, what’s the plan?”  she asked, her tone curious but cautious.

“I need Ichiji to sleep until our wedding.,” I said, leaning in slightly. “Since Sanji’s wedding follows shortly after, that gives me enough time. I need a drug strong enough to knock him out for a few hours, allowing me to meet with the rest of the crew, plan something, and then come back before anyone notices.”

Reiju considered my words for a moment before her gaze sharpened. “Do you, by any chance, still have that drug Ichiji injected me with before?” I asked, hopeful.

Without hesitation, Reiju reached into her dress and pulled out a small vial, holding it up between her fingers. “Yes,” she said, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

I raised an eyebrow, teasing her, “You just carry this around in there, huh?”

She shrugged, unbothered by my comment. “It was precaution, just in case Pudding tried something,” she said casually.

I grinned, taking the vial from her. “Perfect. I’ll drop some of this in his glass. That should give me enough time to execute everything.”

Reiju tilted her head. “But how will this plan work exactly?”

I couldn’t help but smirk, the gears of my mind already turning. “Simple. I’ll play into his desires,” I said, a mischievous glint in my eyes. “And I already have the perfect outfit in mind.”

Reiju’s expression shifted from surprise to a slow, approving smile. “You’re bolder than I thought,” she said, leaning back slightly. “Well, let’s make sure everything goes according to plan.”

I smiled confidently. “Now all I need is the champagne and the right moment. We’ll have Ichiji out cold, and I’ll be gone before he even knows what hit him.”

.

.

.

Soon after, I found myself making my way to the sixth floor, where the Vinsmokes were staying. My heels clicked against the polished floors, creating an echo in the otherwise quiet hallway. In my hand, I held a bottle of champagne and two flute glasses. Hidden discreetly in my coat pocket was the vial from Reiju, along with my thigh halter and blade, just in case. My heart raced, not from nerves but from anticipation of executing my plan.

As I approached the door, two soldiers stationed nearby stepped forward, blocking my path. "Aren’t you supposed to be resting?" one of them asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

I smiled sweetly, doing my best to mask my true intentions. “I’m just here to spend some time with my fiancé before we officially become husband and wife tomorrow,” I replied smoothly, keeping my voice light and friendly.

The soldier hesitated for a moment before stepping aside, seemingly convinced. I took a breath and knocked lightly on the door, though the rowdy noise from inside was already evident. Laughter, clinking bottles, and drunken voices filled the air.

The door swung open abruptly, revealing Yonji with a beer mug in hand. He leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “Well, well, if it isn’t my dear soon to be sister-in-law. What brings you here at this hour?” he asked, his eyes roaming over me as if assessing my presence.

I returned his smirk with one of my own, stepping closer and holding up the bottle of champagne.

I met his smirk with one of my own, stepping closer with purpose, holding up the bottle of champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other. The playful glint in my eyes wasn’t lost on him. “I came to see my fiancé,” I purred, my voice smooth and dripping with charm. “I did say I was going to see you both later, and I must admit I got a little lonely in my room.”

Yonji's eyes flickered to the bottle in my hand before trailing down the length of my body, taking in every detail, his smirk widening with each passing second. He wasn’t subtle—his gaze lingered on the way my coat jacket clung to my form, the rich red lipstick on my lips that seemed to draw him in, and the sleek ponytail that made my appearance sharp, confident, and dangerously alluring.

"Lonely, huh?" he asked, the teasing tone barely masking the intrigue in his voice. Yonji’s smirk deepened as he leaned against the doorframe, clearly enjoying the moment. “And here I thought Ichiji was keeping you well-occupied.”

I chuckled lightly, not taking the bait, and stepped even closer. “Who says he’s not?” I replied with a playful raise of my brow. “But there’s no harm in spicing things up a bit.”

“A surprise visit, huh? I like your style,” Yonji replied, his voice teasing as he stepped aside to let me in. He turned his head and called out, “Ichiji! Your fiancée is here!”

The room was thick with the scent of alcohol, and the barmaids didn’t even flinch at my arrival, still occupied with flirting and pouring drinks for the men. Some of them were laughing and partaking in the festivities themselves, drinking from scattered bottles as the night dragged on.

The moment I made my presence known, Ichiji’s eyes locked onto mine, his smirk widening into something more dangerous.

"Well, if it isn’t my bride-to-be," he said, his voice dripping with arrogance. He took a slow sip from his glass, his gaze never wavering. "Missed me?"

Niji let out a chuckle, raising his own glass in amusement. "Looks like someone’s eager," he teased.

I met Ichiji’s gaze with a teasing smile of my own, though the tension between us was unmistakable. "To tell you the truth," I began, keeping my voice smooth and playful, "I was feeling a bit lonely in my room." I shifted slightly, my hands still behind my back, holding the champagne bottle and glasses. "But it seems to me you had quite the distraction." My eyes flicked to the barmaid who had her hand resting on Ichiji’s chest, her eyes filled with adoration as she gazed at him.

Ichiji glanced down at the woman, not even bothering to push her hand away. His smirk only deepened. "Just a little entertainment to pass the time," he said, his tone casual, as if the woman’s presence meant nothing. "But now that you’re here, I suppose I’m in for a real treat."

I could feel the weight of his words, the way he played with power and control, expecting me to fall in line like the rest of them. But I had my own game to play, and he had no idea what was coming. "So, I guess we won’t be finishing up what we started back at dinner before Yonji interrupted, huh?" I tilted my head, allowing a playful smile to dance on my lips.

Before Ichiji could respond, Yonji draped his arm over my shoulder, drink in hand, laughing. "You mean saving you from whatever the hell that was!" he joked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Never knew I needed saving," I shot back, shrugging his arm off my shoulder gently, my attention shifting back to Ichiji. He looked at Yonji, sending him a glare that was both warning and annoyed, as if silently commanding him to silence himself. But Yonji, oblivious to the tension, continued to drink, grinning like he owned the place.

“Hey, princess, mind sharing some of that champagne?” Niji chimed in, standing up and reaching for the bottl e with a greedy look.

I raised an eyebrow, my smile unwavering as I held the bottle of champagne tighter, emphasizing the exclusivity of the moment. “No can do,” I said smoothly, stepping closer to Ichiji with deliberate intent. “This is meant only for Ichiji and I.” My tone dripped with finality, and the way I held the bottle protectively against my chest sent a clear message to everyone else in the room—this wasn’t for them.

The atmosphere thickened, the tension palpable as the barmaids exchanged glances, their giggles a quiet but persistent background noise to the unfolding scene. They were watching like spectators at a game of cat and mouse, eager to see who would win, who would bend.

“But…” I added, my voice soft but teasing, “if Ichiji doesn’t want to spend some time before our wedding, then I guess I’ll just return to my room.” I turned around dramatically, my coat flaring with the motion as I threw the words over my shoulder, letting them hang in the air like a challenge.

The room seemed to hold its breath for a moment, but before I could take another step, I felt a firm grip on my wrist, halting me in my tracks. I smirked, already knowing who it was without having to look back.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Ichiji’s voice was low, laced with amusement but carrying a clear edge of dominance. He tugged on my wrist, pulling me back toward him, forcing me to face him. His eyes glimmered with that dangerous mixture of arrogance and intrigue, his smirk widening as he saw the challenge still lingering in my own expression.

I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let him draw me closer, my free hand coming up to rest lightly against his chest. My fingers trailed slowly down the fabric of his shirt, my touch featherlight but deliberate, as if testing the boundaries of his composure. “I’m not going anywhere,” I replied, my voice soft yet defiant, a quiet promise in the midst of the storm brewing between us.

Ichiji’s eyes darkened, the playful glint giving way to something more intense, more possessive. His grip on my wrist tightened, but it wasn’t painful—just enough to remind me of the power he thought he held over me. But I wasn’t one to submit so easily.

The tension between us crackled like electricity in the air, and I could feel the weight of anticipation pressing down on both of us, the stakes rising with every heartbeat. The room around us seemed to fade away, the other voices becoming background noise as we became locked in this silent battle of wills.

Leaning in closer, I let my lips brush the shell of his ear, my breath warm against his skin as I whispered, “Why don’t we celebrate in a more private setting?” The invitation was clear, but it was more than that—it was a dare. “I want you to show me that lesson you had in store for me,” I continued, my voice sultry and laced with seduction. Before he could respond, I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, just enough to feel the way his body tensed beneath my touch, like a predator ready to pounce.

His grip on my wrist moved to my waist, pulling me flush against him as his gaze bore into mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. “Be careful what you wish for,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, full of promise and danger. “You might not be able to handle it.”

My heart raced in response, but I didn’t falter. “Try me,” I replied, my voice unwavering, a wicked smile playing on my lips. This was the game we played—pushing, teasing, testing each other’s limits, neither one willing to back down.

“Damn, this is getting spicy,” Niji’s voice broke through the tension like a sudden spark, his teasing grin spreading as he leaned against the bar, watching the exchange with clear amusement. “Ichiji, are you sure you can handle her? She might just burn the place down!”

Yonji laughed, clearly enjoying the spectacle as well. “Better make sure you keep that door locked, or we might just crash your party!” he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I want to see how she handles you, Ichiji.”

Ichiji’s eyes flicked toward his brothers, his expression momentarily darkening with annoyance. But when he looked back at me, the smirk returned, more dangerous than ever. “Don’t worry about them,” he said, his voice smooth as silk but with an edge that made it clear he wasn’t joking. “They wouldn’t dare interfere. This… is between us.”

I arched a brow, still playing along, but there was something in his tone that sent a thrill of excitement racing through me. He wasn’t just talking about this moment; he was staking his claim, making it clear that I was his in this twisted game we played. But I wasn’t about to let him have all the control.

“Well,” I replied, my voice dripping with honeyed defiance, “you better make it worth my while, then.”

Ichiji’s smirk deepened, his grip on my waist tightening as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my skin. “Oh, I will,” he whispered, the promise in his voice sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine. The heat radiating from him enveloped me, drawing me in as if we were the only two people in the room.

The atmosphere thickened with tension, the rest of the world fading into a distant blur as our eyes locked. The playful banter around us became mere background noise, but I could feel the weight of his possessiveness, the way he wanted to claim me, to show me who was in control. And despite the thrill that coursed through me, I had no intention of making it easy for him.

“Why don’t we continue this in your room?” I suggested, my voice sultry and laced with temptation, a sly smile curling my lips. “Let’s celebrate our union a day early.” I held his gaze, refusing to look away, letting the challenge linger in the air between us.

Ichiji’s eyes darkened with a mix of intrigue and desire, and I could see the gears turning in his mind as he processed my words. “Are you trying to make a fool of me?” he replied, a teasing lilt in his voice, but the possessive glint in his eyes betrayed his eagerness. “You’re the one who came here, after all. What if I don’t want to share you with anyone tonight?”

My eyes still locked on his, I leaned in slightly, letting the tension build between us. “I wouldn’t want you to share me,” I said, my voice a low murmur that felt like a secret just for him. “I want you all to myself.” The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and I could see the effect they had on him as Niji dropped his drink in surprise, both of us momentarily turning to glance at him.

But my focus was solely on Ichiji. “I mean it, Ichiji. Especially after what was left of dinner…” I let the words trail off, a teasing smile playing on my lips. “I want you. I want you in every way a man like you wants a woman like me.”

The heat in the room intensified, and Ichiji’s breath caught slightly as his eyes flared with raw hunger. “You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he warned, his voice low and edged with a primal urgency. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, radiating a need that matched my own. 

“I do actually,” I replied, leaning in, letting my lips almost graze his. “I’m asking for a night with my soon-to-be husband to explore the dangerous ways he knows how to indulge with his soon-to-be wife.” I emphasized the words, letting them hang in the air, igniting the tension that crackled between us. “I want you to take me to the depths of pleasure only you know.”

His gaze was unwavering, the intensity in his eyes sending a thrill through me. He stepped closer, his fingers grazing along my jaw, and leaned in, his voice a low murmur. "You think you can handle all of me?" His tone was rich with both challenge and promise. “Because once we start, I’m not holding back. Every whisper, every gasp, every moan—I’ll make sure you remember them.”

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Please," I replied, matching his intensity. "I don’t need you to go easy on me. I want everything. I want the world to know exactly what you do to me." My hand slid up his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under my touch. "I want to hear you growl my name, Tiger, until there’s no doubt about what you make me feel."

A low chuckle escaped him, dark and dangerously tempting. “Then be careful what you wish for, because I can be relentless." He tilted my chin up, his fingers brushing down the side of my neck. "You’ll be gasping for more, and I won’t stop until you’re pleading for mercy." His lips hovered just a breath away from mine, teasing, torturing.

I leaned into him, my voice a playful whisper. "That depends entirely on what position you put me in," I murmured, letting the words hang between us. "I’m quite… flexible."

His eyes flashed with a hungry glint, his hands sliding to my hips, pulling me flush against him. "Flexible, huh?" he drawled, his voice thick with anticipation. “Good. Because I don’t intend to let you go until I’ve had my fill."

 “But let’s not waste any more time.” I leaned in, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I wanted to get through with this to secretly meet my crew.” I thought 

Ichiji’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he considered my words. “Then let’s go,” he said, the decisive tone leaving no room for argument as he took my hand, leading the way to his room

As we stood in front of his door, my heart raced with anticipation. Just as I reached for the handle, Ichiji surprised me by throwing me over his shoulder, the champagne and two flutes still in hand, along with the vial and my blade tucked safely in the pocket of his coat.

“Hey!” I squealed, laughter bubbling up as I adjusted to my new position. “Is this how you plan to carry me into the night?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, a playful edge to his voice. “What kind of groom would I be if I didn’t sweep you off your feet?”

“Just remember, if you drop me, you’re in big trouble,” I teased, feigning indignation, but my laughter was infectious.

“Trust me, I won’t let you fall,” he promised, his tone serious yet playful. He kicked the door open with his foot, striding into the room confidently. After a brief moment, he quickly set me down to lock the door, and I took the opportunity to explore the space.

Ichiji’s room was adorned with satin sheets that gleamed in the soft light, a small kitchen area tucked away, and a large mirror greeting me as I stepped further in. Perfect, I thought, excitement bubbling within me.

As I made my way toward the kitchen aisle, Ichiji spun me around, pulling me close and kissing me hungrily. I hooked my arm around his neck, my heart racing as our lips moved together. But just as things were heating up, he began to fumble with my coat, trying to open it.

I laughed, pulling away playfully. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in bed while I open this up for us?” I suggested a teasing smile on my lips.

Ichiji eagerly nodded, his gaze burning with desire as he turned around and made his way toward the bed. I took a moment to admire the way he moved, the anticipation hanging thick in the air.

I placed the glasses and the bottle of champagne on the kitchen aisle before I pulled out the sleep vial from one of my coat pockets. Quickly, I opened the cork and poured a generous amount into his glass, closing it swiftly and returning it to my pocket. With the bottle of champagne in hand, I uncorked it, the fizz spraying out and hitting my skin.

“Oops!” I laughed, turning to see Ichiji already removing his shirt and pants, his toned physique illuminated by the soft glow of the room. I poured generous amounts of champagne into both glasses, savoring the moment.

With a playful smirk, I grabbed the bottle and sashayed my hips as I approached him, handing it to him. “Hold, please,” I instructed, my voice low and sultry.

Ichiji took the bottle, his eyes darkening with desire as I reached for our glasses. I handed him his, the warmth of his hand brushing against mine, sending a thrill through me. I slowly sipped from my champagne glass, feeling the bubbles dance on my tongue, while Ichiji mirrored my movements, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

With a playful grin, I grabbed the bottle and set it beside the bed before taking his hand, our fingers intertwining. “Cheers, to a memorable night,” I declared, our glasses clinking together before we both downed the champagne in one swift motion.

“Looks like we’ll need another refill, huh?” I laughed, the excitement bubbling inside me. Without warning, Ichiji threw his glass against the wall, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the room.

I raised an eyebrow at his reckless abandon but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my lips. As he reached for me, I placed my glass down, my heart racing as I made my way up slowly, teasing him with my movements.

“Why don’t we take this off?” I suggested, my voice low and inviting as I untied my coat. The fabric slipped from my shoulders, revealing the black lace underneath.

Ichiji’s eyes widened, raking over my figure with a hunger that made my pulse quicken. “Black lace…” he murmured, his hands ghosting over the delicate fabric, igniting sparks of electricity across my skin. I could feel the heat radiating from him, and it sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through me. “I thought it fit the theme… you don’t like it?” I said in a sweet, teasing tone, feigning innocence as I glanced up at him through my lashes.

Ichiji’s eyes darkened, a primal hunger flickering in his gaze as he took a step closer, closing the space between us. “Like it? No, Y/N. I don’t just like it,” he said, his voice low and filled with a raw, unrestrained desire. “I crave it. I want to feel every inch of you, to taste that fiery spirit of yours that makes me lose control.” 

His words sent shivers down my spine, and I felt a flush of heat creep across my cheeks. The intensity of his gaze held me captive, and I could see the hunger burning in his eyes—a hunger that mirrored my own. 

“You have no idea how hard it is to resist you right now,” he continued, his hands inching up to my waist, fingers grazing my skin through the delicate lace. “Every second that passes just makes me want you more. You’re driving me wild.” Ichiji then began to place kisses on my neck, causing me to sigh in delight. 

His fingers trailed lower, teasing my core, and a gasp escaped my lips as I fought to catch my breath. “Ichiji…” I whispered again, my voice trembling with anticipation and desire. The way he touched me sent jolts of electricity coursing through my body, igniting a fire within that I could no longer contain. “Just like that.” I whispered as Ichiji continued, to tease my core through my panties. My hand went to grab his wrist, but Ichiji grabbed it, putting it behind my back. “Do you really want me to stop” smirked Ichiji as he continued to tease. “No” I said in a breathy moan. “Focus on the mission y/n!” I thought.  

Ichiji then looked deep into my eyes, searching for permission, and the intensity of his gaze made my heart race even faster. “Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he urged, his voice a low, sultry whisper that wrapped around me like a warm embrace. “I need to hear it.”

“I want you,” I breathed, my voice trembling just enough to sound genuine, the words laced with a mix of eagerness and vulnerability. “I want you to take me. I want you in all the ways I’ve imagined us together—this moment, right here, right now.” My breath hitched as I leaned into his touch, the deliberate tilt of my head back to sell the role.

Ichiji’s eyes darkened with desire, he let go of my wrist from behind my back and grabbed my waist, tightening it  as he pulled me flush against him. “You’re intoxicating,” he murmured, his lips beginning to trail down my jawline and back to the sensitive spot on my neck, where his teeth grazed lightly before pressing a kiss that left me shivering. “Every word, every move you make... it’s like you’re daring me to lose control.”

I let out a soft, breathless laugh, threading my fingers through his hair as I tilted my head back, feigning surrender. “Maybe I am,” I whispered, my voice dripping with seduction, though my mind remained focused. Just a little longer until the drug takes effect, I thought, my heart pounding from the gamble I was taking.

His hands roamed my sides with deliberate intent, the slow, possessive glide of his fingers igniting a dangerous heat between us. They traced the curve of my hips, lingering just enough to make me gasp softly, before sliding up the small of my back. Each touch sent a shiver through me, blurring the line between the part I was playing and the reality of his desire. He pulled me closer, the distance between us vanishing as our bodies pressed flush together.

“You’ve thought about this moment,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that seemed to reverberate through the air around us. His lips hovered tantalizingly close to mine, his breath warm against my skin. His eyes, sharp and searching, burned with a mixture of intrigue and hunger. “Tell me,” he pressed, his tone both commanding and coaxing, “how you imagined it.”

My lips parted, drawing in a shaky breath as I raised my gaze to meet his, letting a flicker of vulnerability soften my expression. “I imagined this,” I replied, my voice soft yet steady, laced with just enough longing to make it convincing. My fingers trailed up his chest, pausing at his collar before brushing against the side of his neck. “I imagined the way your touch would feel—how it would ignite something inside me. I thought about how it would feel to have you lose control, to see you come undone because of me.”

With a primal growl, Ichiji’s restraint snapped. His hands gripped my waist firmly, pulling me flush against him, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation. The sheer strength in his movements sent a jolt through me as his lips descended on mine, capturing them in a kiss that was raw, demanding, and unapologetically fierce. His breath was hot against my skin as he moved, trailing kisses down to the hollow of my neck.

“You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed,” he growled against my ear, his voice rough with desire. His words sent a shiver racing down my spine as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin at the base of my neck, followed by the soothing heat of his lips. My breath hitched involuntarily, my body reacting to the intensity he poured into every touch, every movement.

His hands roamed up my back, fingers splayed as though to anchor me in place, while his other hand drifted to my thigh, pulling me impossibly closer. “Tell me,” he whispered, his voice a velvet rasp, “did you imagine me like this—devouring every inch of you?”

I allowed my fingers to thread through his hair, tugging slightly to tilt his head back, forcing his burning gaze to meet mine. “I imagined you exactly like this,” I whispered, my tone a perfect blend of sultry and inviting. “I wanted you like this—unrestrained, wanting me as much as I want you.”

In one swift motion, he lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed adorned with satin sheets. I took off his glasses and tossed them aside, noticing a smirk tugging at his lips, but his eyes began to blink, focusing on regaining his vision. Seizing the opportunity, I swiftly switched our positions, pinning him beneath me.

As I began to plant soft kisses along his chest and neck, I could feel his body react to my touch. “Princess…” he groaned, tilting his head back to grant me better access, his voice thick with desire. I couldn't help but tease him further, rolling my hips against him, feeling the way he shivered in delight beneath me.

“I want you to moan out loud what you want, tiger,” I said, my breath hot against his skin as I continued to kiss his neck, seeking out that sweet spot that made him squirm. 

“Ahhh!” he groaned, the sound raw and guttural, echoing through the room. His hands gripped my hips like a lifeline, pulling me flush against him as he arched toward me, his need evident in every strained movement. His fiery red gaze met mine, burning with an insatiable hunger that threatened to consume us both.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice cracking under the weight of his desire. “Please…”

I smirked, leaning forward just enough to brush my lips against his ear, letting my breath ghost over his skin. “Come on, tiger,” I teased, my voice dripping with sultry confidence as I rolled my hips deliberately against him, drawing another involuntary groan from his lips. “Be a good boy and tell me what you want.”

He shuddered beneath me, his composure slipping further with each passing second. His hands slid from my hips to my thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as though grounding himself. “I want you,” he finally growled, his tone both pleading and commanding, his control hanging by a thread. “I want all of you—no games, no distance. Just…you.”

Ichiji's raw desperation electrified the air between us, his grip on my thighs tightening as though he feared I might slip away. His fiery red gaze locked onto mine, blazing with a primal hunger that sent a delicious shiver coursing down my spine. His vulnerability, laid bare in that single plea, sent a thrill of power surging through me.

I grinned against his neck, dragging my lips lower, letting the faint graze of my teeth leave a trail of heat along his skin. My fingers danced lightly along his sides, teasingly tracing the contours of his lean frame. Every touch elicited a new gasp or groan, his body trembling under the weight of his restraint.

“You’re making this too easy, Ichiji,” I murmured, my voice dripping with playful seduction. My lips hovered just above his collarbone, brushing against it as I spoke, feeling the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath my touch. “Are you always this impatient?”

“Damn it,” he growled, his hands flexing against my thighs as his frustration boiled over. “Just…don’t tease me!” His voice cracked slightly, a mix of command and plea that made my grin widen. “I want you—now.”

I chuckled softly, noticing the way his eyelids were growing heavy, a telltale sign that he was beginning to succumb to sleep. Bingo! It’s working, I thought with a mischievous grin.

I continued to tease him, a playful glint in my eyes as I took his hands and dragged them over my body, finally placing them to rest on my bra. “Would you be a dear and hold still?” I asked sweetly, my voice low and sultry.

As I began to unhook the bra, I let the straps fall slowly, reveling in the way his breath hitched at the sight. “That’s it, Ichiji,” I purred, leaning in closer, letting him feel the warmth radiating off me. “Soon, you will have everything you’ve desired.”

I slowly rolled my hips again, feeling him sink deeper into the mattress beneath me. “What’s wrong?” I teased, grabbing my discarded bra and tossing it aside, his hands firmly resting on my breasts.

Ichiji soon bucked his hips, trying to get more friction, causing a soft moan to escape my lips. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, but I needed to stay focused on my mission. However, as I began to notice Ichiji's hands slowly slipping from their grip, I decided it was time to switch things up.

I stood up from my position, a soft whine leaving his lips, and sauntered over to grab the bottle of champagne once more. “You know, tiger,” I said with a sly smile, “you look so good right now.” I poured some of the champagne over him, the cold liquid mixing with his warmth, and he moaned in delight.

“I wonder how good you taste,” I murmured, leaning down to lick the champagne from his chest, savoring the flavor of both the drink and the man beneath me. The sweet tang of the champagne mixed with the salty taste of his skin, creating a heady combination that sent a thrill down my spine. I continued to trace teasing licks on his chest, going lower towards his defined abs. 

“Y/N…” he groaned, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re killing me.”

With a sudden surge of energy, Ichiji flipped me over, pinning me beneath him as the champagne bottle clattered to the floor, rolling away unnoticed. His hands gripped my wrists, holding them firmly above my head as he leaned down, his face hovering just inches from mine. His breath was hot against my lips, and his crimson eyes burned with intensity.

“You really think you can tease me like that and get away with it?” he growled, his voice rough and low, sending a thrill through me.

I smirked up at him, maintaining my confident demeanor despite the rapid beating of my heart. “Come on, tiger,” I whispered, my voice dripping with challenge. “Show me how serious you are.”

His grin widened, predatory and wicked, as he captured my lips in a kiss that was as much a battle as it was a surrender. Heat surged between us as his lips moved against mine, hungry and demanding. His grip on my wrists loosened just enough for me to slide my hands free, trailing them down his chest and feeling the hard contours of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt.

He groaned against my mouth, his hands moving to my waist and pulling me closer, his fingers digging into my sides as though trying to ground himself in the chaos of the moment. I rolled my hips against him, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him that fueled my confidence further.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered against my lips, his voice raw with need. His hands roamed over my body, exploring every curve, every inch, as though he couldn’t get enough.

I tilted my head back, giving him access to my neck, and he took the invitation eagerly, his lips and teeth grazing my skin in a way that sent shivers down my spine. “I’ve thought about this,” he admitted, his voice thick with desire. “Thought about you. Wanting you. And now that I have you—”

He paused, his movements faltering slightly. His breaths came slower, his grip on my waist loosening as his body began to betray him. I opened my eyes and glanced at him, watching the subtle change as the drug I had slipped into the champagne took effect.

“Ichiji?” I said softly, feigning concern as I gently cupped his cheek. His crimson eyes blinked sluggishly, the fire in them dimming as exhaustion overtook him. “Are you okay?”

“I… I’m fine,” he muttered, though his voice was unsteady. He shook his head, as if trying to clear the fog that was quickly enveloping him. “Just... tired, all of a sudden…”

I brushed my fingers through his hair, leaning in as if to comfort him. “Shh, it’s okay,” I whispered, my lips grazing his ear. “Just rest. I’ll take care of everything.”

He rested beside me, his breathing slow and controlled, and I couldn’t help but smirk. “Sweet dreams, fiancé,” I whispered, feeling a sense of triumph wash over me as phase one was complete. I got up and made my way to where my coat lay crumpled on the floor. Grabbing my thigh holster and blade, I secured them on my right thigh, feeling the familiar surge of power return.

With a swift motion, I wrapped my coat around me again, tightening the ties to ensure I was ready for action. Approaching the mirror, I took a moment to assess my appearance. I redid my ponytail, ensuring every strand was in place, and fixed the edges of my lips, which were subtly smeared from earlier. Just as I was admiring my reflection, I caught sight of two familiar figures in the glass—Nami and Chopper.

“Y/N!” they yelled in unison, their faces lighting up with excitement.

I smiled back, relieved and amused. “It’s about time you found me,” I laughed as they dragged me into the mirror world.

Once inside, I glanced back at Ichiji, still peacefully asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily. For a brief moment, guilt crept into my mind, but I quickly pushed it aside. There was no time for second thoughts—I had work to do. As soon as I stepped in, my eyes caught Nami, now wearing a sleek jumpsuit compared to the dress she had on earlier.

"Nami, what...?" I started, but she shook her head with a small sigh.

"It's a long story," she said, brushing it off as if she’d seen too much already for one night. “What about you?” she said smirking. “Its a long story too.” I said laughing. 

My gaze shifted, and to my surprise, I saw a familiar, comforting face.

"Jinbei!" I exclaimed with joy, rushing over to hug him. He returned the embrace, his deep, hearty laugh bringing a sense of warmth I hadn’t felt in a while.

"It's so good to see you," I added as I pulled away. Then I saw Carrot, Chopper, Pedro, Brulee, and that odd train guy who had clearly gotten mixed up in this chaos.

"Alright, where’s Brook?" I asked, scanning the group, realizing someone was missing.

"The mirrors mentioned that he was captured by Big Mom," Jinbei said, his voice somber.

"Damn, that's not good," I muttered, gripping my ponytail in frustration. Brook being captured was going to complicate things even further.

Nami interrupted my thoughts by tossing me my satchel. "Oh, Y/N, by the way, here."

I caught it, opening it up to find my second blade, my sword, and Zoro's bandana nestled inside. Relief washed over me as I grabbed the second blade, sliding it back into the thigh halter. As soon as the blades were reunited, a faint electric hue crackled around me, responding to their connection. I crossed the satchel over me, my sword still inside. 

I tied Zoro's bandana around my head, the familiar fabric giving me a sense of comfort and focus. "Thanks for taking care of these," I said sincerely, glancing at Nami.

Nami raised a brow. "I do want to know why the blade was glowing even though you weren’t near it."

I smiled at her curiosity. "When I separated the blades, keeping only one with me, the other acts as if I'm still connected to it. My energy transfers through the blade, no matter where it is. I also set it to act as protection in case anyone tried anything, and well if someone were to take my things, they would get a surprise.” I said, smirking.  

Nami nodded thoughtfully. "That’s... pretty impressive."

I shrugged, adjusting the bandana once more.

“There’s a lot more these blades can do, and I feel like I’ve only scratched the surface,” I said, glancing at the electric glow around my reunited weapons. The sense of untapped potential simmered beneath the surface, almost begging to be explored. But there was no time for that now.

Brulee, tied up and visibly frustrated, spat venomous words at Jinbei. “How dare you betray Big Mom, you spineless coward! You were given the choice to spin the roulette, and this is how you repay her?”

Jinbei remained stoic, but Pedro chimed in, his tone grim. “The game is rigged. Five years ago, my partner was given the same fate. Instead of a fair spin, his life was taken away.”

“Old hag,” I muttered under my breath, disgusted at the lengths Big Mom would go to maintain her twisted sense of control.

Brulee laughed cruelly. “The roulette is meant to kill those who try to leave. There’s no escaping Big Mom’s wrath. You’re all doomed!”

Chopper, clearly fed up, tightened the ropes binding her. “We’re wasting time! We have to hurry and find Luffy, Sanji, and Brook!”

Without further delay, we all clambered onto the train—though it was far from the most luxurious form of travel. As the train creaked and groaned under our weight, the conductor whined, “Hey, that’s not fair! You’re drastically over the weight limit!”

Carrot, ever resourceful, nipped at the conductor’s arm to get him moving. “Keep going!” she demanded, her determination evident.

The train lurched forward, albeit slowly, and we all braced ourselves. Time was running out, and we needed to regroup with the others before things spiraled even further out of control. 

Brook POV..

After a fierce battle and my defeat at the hands of Big Mom, I found myself dangling helplessly in her grip. “Hmph, I owe our little friend a word of praise. He’s the first one to land a scratch on one of you,” she said, as Prometheus whined about the scar I’d given him.

I remained limp, pretending to be unconscious. It was the only way I could ensure I didn’t give anything away.

“Mama, do you plan to keep that skeleton with you?” Pudding’s voice rang out, dripping with disdain.

“That skeleton… Pudding, I’m appalled. Is that really all I am to you?” I thought, feeling a sharp sting at being so dismissed. But I remained still as Big Mom continued to dangle me like a ragdoll.

“Yes, certainly! This is a one-of-a-kind work of art, so I think I’m going to carry it around for a while,” Big Mom declared with a cackle.

“Please no… I don’t want to be her accessory,” I thought, shuddering inwardly.

“By the way, Pudding, you did a very good job yourself,” Big Mom continued. “I’m surprised the Straw Hats made it past the Seducing Woods. Even more surprised that the princess managed to make it to the engagement ceremony. But now, they’re all trapped”

My heart sank. “Luffy… Nami… Y/N…” I thought, concern for my friends.

Pudding chimed in, her voice oozing with smugness. “I know, Mama. I went to see them. It really serves them right. But that princess still annoyed me—she’s too smart to fall for my tricks.”

“Y/N was right about Pudding,” I realized bitterly.

Big Mom laughed, her booming voice shaking me. “But it serves her right for trying to act all hero and snoop around. The first time was hard enough trying to knock her out, but she’s tough to crack. The second time, though, I shot her in the side.” Said Pudding

“What did she do?!” I thought in alarm, fighting the urge to move.

“Once the wedding is over, they’re all going to die. I’ve already sent out barmaids to everyone in Germa. They’re all so intoxicated, we can slip anything past them.” Big Mom let out a satisfied grunt. 

Pudding let out a satisfied sigh.“Good. But Reiju was snooping around earlier. She’s very perceptive. 

Big mom then halts and eyed pudding. “You didn’t kill her or Y/N, right?”

“As much as I wanted to kill Y/N, I didn’t,” Pudding replied, her voice gleeful. “I simply shot Reiju in the leg, shot Y/N in the side, and knocked her out with the gun. Then I erased their memories. "I even added had someone knock on her door before everything and had her see what Sanji and I were doing, she was in such a shock, tears even fell from her eyes!" said pudding laughing "had to manipulate her memory so that way she still harbored anger towards Sanji. 

“That devil!” I seethed internally. 

“I must be mistaken somehow... all this time, Pudding, I thought you were a nice girl...” I thought, my mind reeling as Big Mom’s words confirmed everything. My body began to spin slowly, almost involuntarily, towards Pudding. How could someone so outwardly sweet be so vile inside?

Big Mom’s voice cut through the air, her grip on me tightening slightly. “Be careful, dear, you're our precious little bride after all. If both Reiju and Y/N try to get revenge, there could be a disaster,” she said, her tone laced with mock concern.

“I appreciate your concern, Mama, but thanks to them, I got a chance to practice my gun,” Pudding replied with a twisted smile, pulling out her pistol. The sight of it in her hands sent chills down my bony spine—if I had one, that is. “Even the artificially modified people of Germa, along with whatever weapons the princess may have, won’t be enough to survive this,” she added, her voice dripping with malice.

Germa... and Y/N? My skull rattled as I held back my outrage, not daring to break my facade.

Big Mom let out a booming laugh. “What a clever girl! Then again, you are my daughter. Tomorrow, your gunfire will set my genius plan into motion. I can’t wait!” she cackled with twisted glee, revealing the dark depths of her plan. “Then, when the happy couple appears, everyone’s attention will be on the kiss. But once you reveal your third eye, Sanji will see the bride for the monster she truly is. Aim the gun between his curly eyebrows and bam! The wedding guests will be stunned, and soon the people of Germa will be, too. But it will be too late—a wall of gunfire will rain down on the Vinsmokes, and that will include the princess!”

They’re planning to kill Sanji and Y/N! I thought in horror, my mind racing. This is far worse than I ever imagined. 

Big Mom continued with a wicked grin, her voice dripping with malice as she dangled me in front of Pudding. “All seven Vinsmokes will lie motionless on the floor, in a pool of crimson... after they have been stripped of that useless leader, their forces and technology will be mine!” she declared, her laughter echoing through the room, sending shivers through the air.

Sanji…Y/N! My mind raced. This isn’t just an assassination—it’s a slaughter, and Y/N will be caught in the crossfire. I can't let this happen!

"Ma-ma-ma-ma!" Big Mom cackled. “With the Vinsmokes out of the way, their science will belong to me. Germa’s army will finally be under my control!”

Pudding smiled darkly, her eyes flashing with malicious glee. "And no one will even suspect what hit them. Once the shock of my third eye and the gunfire sinks in, it’ll be too late. That pathetic princess won't even have a chance to draw those fancy weapons of hers."

I have to warn them, I thought desperately. But how? I pretended to remain unconscious, biding my time. I need to find a way to escape. The others—Sanji, Y/N—they're depending on me…

Third POV…

In the dimly lit meeting room, the tension was palpable as Montd'Or, the keeper of Big Mom's library, sat at the head of the table surrounded by the Charlotte children. His fingers drummed thoughtfully on the surface as he scrutinized the wanted posters of the Straw Hats and their allies.

"Can you confirm the groom is in his room?" Montd'Or asked, his voice calm but commanding.

"Yes, sir," replied a soldier, standing at attention. "The groom is resting in his quarters."

Montd'Or gave a slight nod. "Good. We know their objective is to retrieve Vinsmoke Sanji, and that there were seven of them when Pudding lured them to the island." His gaze shifted to the wanted posters and the rough sketches laid out before him. He studied the faces of Luffy, Nami, Chopper, Brook, and Y/N, alongside the sketches of Pedro and Carrot.

"Soul King, Brook, is with Mama, so he’s accounted for," Montd'Or continued, his tone methodical as he began crossing off names. "Pedro... well, he blew himself up in the third-floor courtyard. We can check those two off. That’s two down."

His eyes moved to the next names on the list, and he crossed out Carrot and Chopper’s sketches. "In the Seducing Woods, the rabbit and the raccoon were captured. So that takes care of them."

The others at the table watched as Montd'Or picked up his pen once more, the tip hovering over the last three remaining figures. He placed Luffy, Nami, and Y/N’s wanted posters front and center.

"That leaves these three," Montd'Or said, his gaze lingering on the faces of Luffy, Nami, and Y/N. "Straw Hat Luffy, Cat Burglar Nami, and the princess... Y/N." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "These three are still unaccounted for. And we know they won't stop until they’ve rescued the groom." 

"We actually recieved report that the princess in with her fiancé, the other son from the Vinsmokes." said one of the soldiers. 

Montd'Or’s brow furrowed as he absorbed the soldier’s report. “The princess is with her fiancé, the other Vinsmoke son?” he repeated, though skepticism laced his tone. His instincts told him that Y/N’s presence with Ichiji might not be as straightforward as it seemed.

“Hmmm…” Montd'Or stroked his chin, thinking. "I'm not entirely convinced. Send a few soldiers to the Vinsmokes' room. We can't afford to make assumptions when it comes to Y/N."

The soldier nodded and quickly exited to carry out the order. Montd'Or's sharp gaze shifted back to the posters of Luffy, Nami, and Y/N. “These three managed to beat Big Brother Cracker and then escape the Seducing Woods... Yet, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Monkey D. Luffy and Cat Burglar Nami are still inside the Prison Library. So why are we hearing rumors that they’ve escaped?”

His voice was cold and calculating as his gaze snapped toward Opera, who stood at the far end of the room, shifting uncomfortably under his brother’s scrutiny.

“Would you care to enlighten us, Big Brother Opera?" Montd'Or pressed. "I also heard Jinbei was there. What happened?"

Opera stiffened, his voice rising defensively. “I burned them to death!” he blurted out, his arms gesturing wildly. “Can’t you at least trust the word of your own brother?! I swear, I finished them off. There’s no way they could have survived that!”

Montd'Or’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion not fully eased by Opera’s outburst. “For your sake, Opera, I hope you’re telling the truth. But remember... if they did escape, that’s on you.” The tension in his voice was clear, hanging in the air like a blade ready to drop.

With a sigh, Montd'Or turned back to the room. “All of the intruders accounted for or not, the preparations are complete. Let’s focus on what’s most important now—giving our adorable sister Pudding an incredible wedding. We can’t afford distractions.”

As he gave the command, the soldiers moved to expand their surveillance across Whole Cake Island. “Expand your coverage until morning,” Montd'Or ordered sternly. “I want eyes everywhere. No one slips through the cracks. Not Luffy, not Nami, and especially not the princess."

The soldiers saluted and dispersed swiftly to cover every corner of the castle. Montd'Or remained, staring intently at the wanted posters. They’ve gotten this far... but we won’t let them interfere with Mama’s plans.

Sanji POV…

I sat down quietly, my mind racing, trying to figure out a way to save everyone. Reiju's words still weighed heavily on me, her voice echoing in my thoughts.

"Go find the Straw Hats. Take Y/N and leave this island, Sanji."

Her firm command rattled me. “Like how?! I can’t do that!” I snapped out loud, frustration clawing at my chest. It felt like I was being suffocated by the impossible choices before me.

What do you think will happen to the Baratie? Hell, what do you think will happen to King and all those people on that island that Y/N loves and cares for?! I can’t just leave them all behind!

"Just run. Figure it out and escape. Stay here, and all of you will die," Reiju had said firmly.

Her words rang in my mind, louder each time I replayed them, and I gripped my hair in frustration. "What do I do?" I muttered under my breath. It felt like the weight of the entire world was pressing down on me. I opened the basket sitting beside me and sighed, realizing something as I took out the bento box.

"Wait a minute... did I really cook this for Pudding?" I said, staring at the contents in disbelief. “Man, what was I thinking?”

As I began to look at the carefully prepared food, something dawned on me. I hadn’t made this with Pudding in mind at all. Each meal inside the box was meant for my crew—Nami’s favorite tangerines, Chopper’s chocolate treats, sandwiches for Robin, Luffy’s beloved mountain of meat, and even meals for Zoro, Usopp, Franky, and Brook. But the one dish that pulled me into a daze was Y/N’s.

I stared at her portion, the scent of it filling my nostrils. Her favorite: pasta with extra cream sauce, adorned with bits of meat and bacon, just the way she liked it. Even the wine bottle sitting beside it was one of her favorites. The memories of when I made this dish flashed in my mind.

Flashback...

I was in the kitchen, meticulously preparing everything for the crew. The scent of sizzling bacon and the richness of the cream sauce filled the air as I stirred the pot, adding the final touches to the pasta I was making for Y/N.

I had just placed her plate down when Zoro barged in, his eyes zeroing in on the dish I’d just finished.

“Hey!, cook! Where's my meal?!" he demanded, arms crossed over his chest. His impatience always grated on my nerves.

I grit my teeth, turning to him with a scowl. "Your meal? You’ll get it when I’m done with the others, you moss-headed swordsman! Don’t rush me!"

Zoro smirked, leaning lazily against the doorframe. “Seems like you already finished someone’s plate. What’s so special about that one, huh?”

Before I could retort, Y/N appeared, slipping into the kitchen with a bright smile. She made a beeline for her plate and took a seat. "Can you believe it? Sanji made my favorite pasta!" she exclaimed happily.

Her smile practically made the room shine brighter, and for a moment, I forgot all about the moss-head’s irritating presence. "He even got it down to a T! It’s perfect!" she added, her excitement contagious as she twirled a forkful of pasta.

I couldn’t help but smile back. "Anything for you, Y/N," I said smoothly, leaning against the counter.

But then, Zoro, the mosshead, sauntered over and plopped down next to Y/N, his gaze fixed on her plate with a wicked grin. "Hey, Y/N, mind if I have a bite?" Before she could respond, he snatched the fork from her hand, plopping the food into his mouth while maintaining eye contact with her. She blushed slightly, caught off guard by his sudden boldness.

"Not bad," he said, swallowing the bite, then casually handed the fork back to her, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face. Y/N shook her head and laughed, clearly amused despite the cheeky interruption.

"Not bad," Zoro repeated, his smirk widening as he shot me a smug look. "The cook actually knows what he’s doing."

I felt irritation bubbling inside me, my fists clenching at my sides. The mosshead always knew how to get under my skin, but this—this was a whole new level of audacity.

Before I could snap back at him, Y/N playfully swatted Zoro in the chest. "Don’t be rude," she scolded, laughter dancing in her eyes. "Besides, it's a dish he made for me, right, Sanji?"

Her teasing smile instantly melted away my frustration, and I grinned back at her, all my irritation forgotten in an instant. "That's right, Y/N-chan," I said smoothly, flipping my hair as if I were on stage. "I made it just for you, with all the love and care in the world."

Zoro rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a smirk. "Tch, you really know how to lay it on thick, don’t you, curly-brow?"

End of Flashback…

I snapped back to the present, the warm memory fading as the reality of my situation sank in. I closed the basket tightly, gripping the handle so hard my knuckles turned white. "I made all their favorites out of habit," I muttered to myself, the weight of everything pressing down on me. My head fell into my hands as I tried to push the thoughts away.

"Forget them... you have to." The words echoed in my mind, but the more I thought about it, the harder it became. I don’t have to worry about Luffy and the others. They'll find a way out, like they always do. But Y/N... I can’t let her marry Ichiji. I don’t care about the Vinsmokes. I can die with them, but Y/N... for her to be bound to this cruel fate, to die with them too?

My thoughts swirled, chaotic and relentless. Even if my life was short, it was a fulfilling one, I thought bitterly. But that didn’t change the fact that Y/N was caught in this nightmare with me. And Luffy… he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t move. He promised he’d stay in that spot until I came back to him.

Suddenly, a soldier from Big Mom’s army interrupted my spiral of thoughts, reaching for one of the meat dishes meant for Luffy. "Ohh, food..." one of Big Moms children mumbled, grabbing the piece of meat.

Something inside me snapped.

"Hey, wait a second—are you Sanji Vinsmoke? Montdour said you were asleep in your room."

Without thinking, I lashed out. "Get your hands off!" I shouted, sending him flying into the wall with a single kick. "That food... is not for you!"

I stood there, chest heaving, realization dawning on me as I stared at the unconscious soldier. What the hell did I just do?

My body moved on its own. I grabbed the basket and ran, my heart pounding as my feet carried me faster than I could think. What the hell am I doing? I thought, feeling the panic rise. But my feet kept moving, and before I knew it, I was heading straight to where Luffy had said he wouldn’t move.

To the spot where he was waiting for me

[secretwhumplair]

Whump prompt XVIII

Caretaker is trying to buy whumpee to free them.

Only they cannot afford the asking price, so they're left haggling down whumpee's value, picking out every conceivable flaw and arguing with the seller that whumpee really isn't worth that - all fully within earshot of whumpee.

[kaeyacollection]

Hey so uh

Are we being normal about this?

"In those days, a crimson moon shone down upon the subterranean realm, and not the dark sun of latter days." (Perinheri book)

And like the wiki says Kaeya's passive was changed from "Heart of the Abyss" because it unintentionally conflated with the Abyss in game and not the metaphor of "walking on thin ice over an abyss."

But I mean

For an unintentional connection it sure does come up a lot

But even if we do disregard that and go based on the intended meaning (via the wiki)

"The Book of Songs·Xiaoya·Xiaomin": "It's like standing on the edge of a deep abyss, like walking on thin ice."

I mean on one hand, yes we already knew about Khaenri'ahs connection to the abyss long before the Abyss Order was founded and before Khaenri'ah got nerfed for crimes against Celestia (fuckin Gold had rift hounds like this isn't new)

BUT this is the first solid confirmation that the Abyss wasn't a side note some (lookin at you 5 sinners) dipped their toes into but a defining part of the dynasty if it was named after the damn thing, right?

From the book of The Little Witch and the Undying Fire:

You see, we also call a will that comes down from the heavens an "archon." They are normally planets that have sentient life on them, and they number seven, and therefore they are called the "seven archons." As for the virtuals, their number varies between one, two, and four. The planet the little witch was on may well have been one. And in the case of such a world, the "virtual" would be the "dark sun."

"The planet the little witch was on may well have been one." Has become such an important line in connecting the abyss as a guiding force, that was not just used by khaenri'ah, but influencing them even if the people didn't realize it

Walking on thin ice over the abyss, believing they could balance that danger, but the ice cracked and Celestia responded

King Irmin was indisposed, we saw the kind of madness that overcame Chlothar, who only got the second hand abyssal experience from Mr. Crystal himself (Vedrfolnir), Gold went Mold for a second if her chapter in The Little Witch has any accuracies to herself (also one of her companions becoming a pirate - I see you Kaeya's Grandpa)

For the Sinners to be seeking perfection when the Abyss Order talks about their guiding force being something of chaos

Idk it's just neat that one line can solidify and make sense of previous tales within the game that we didn't technically have the context for previously and I'm excited to see what the rare disease mentioned at the end is going to be

Also just as a bonus note

Celebration: Fruit of Wisdom

What knowledge might the fruit of wisdom bring, were it to descend upon the land? Either way, it'll taste good as a drink if left in Diona's hands.

I wasn't part of the event, but if they straight up saw fruits of wisdom and the first thought was to consume it then I just wonder if fruits of the abyss looked just as appetizing

[moe-broey]

I. Did not achieve a lot today (understandable considering the circumstances), but. You need to See.

The SADDEST. SOGGIEST. Sharena I have EVER drawn.

Also maybe a little snippet as a treat...

You'll have to fight my messy roughs and handwriting for it though 😤😤😤

[nayruwu]

heartbeat :)

everyone shut the fuck up. they're resting.

@gureshin-week-2023

[cream-and-tea]

the thing about judge/calliope is that they really did have a fairly normal budding relationship (<- or as normal a budding relationship as a girl living out the evil version of every portal fantasy story and a preteen monsterthing could have) until everything went Wrong (<- surprise werewolf transformation and maiming) after which judge basically immediately forgave calliope on the grounds that ‘it wasn’t really her doing that’ (<- the maiming) and went “hey can we please still date?” and calliope categorically could notttt handle this so he went “no sorry no dating only guilt driven homoerotic devotion and laying myself at your feet like a dog allowed now” and judge went “sooooo can we still make out?” and calliope said “babygirl at this point i would literally let you waterboard me do whatever you want i will kill anyone who so much as implies they’d hurt you” and judge went “umm okay i guess i can work with– hey wait what was that last part?” and calliope went “nothing 🥰” with their teeth already fully clamped in the throat of some guy who looked at judge funny

[ccaptain]

   ' ━Ah, so that's your brand new hiding place. '

   A pair of familiar, inadvisable shoes seemingly materializes out of thin air. There's a grin on the man's face as he bends down to eye level, red hues exploring the hiding space his stray snuck in and slowly turning on the side of incredulous concern.

   ' How in the hell did ya managed to get in here? You're taller than me, and almost as bulk, too! Only someone like Brother Hanu could get cramped in here, and even he... '

   They both know how. the Enigma doesn't answer him, limiting himself into quietly staring at his adoptive father as the playfulness in his voice disappears.

   ' One of these days, huh? ' A sigh. ' Come on- scoot over, 'm coming in. '

   There's a long pause. Kaeya doesn't move- but he resumes speaking, a tad on the side of incredulous.

   ' Dad... It's too big for both of us, We'll both be stuck if you come in. '

   ' That so? ' The man named Gallagher sighs with relief, chuckling in the same breath. ' Right. Would have been worth a shot, though- look who's speaking again. '

   It rips a chuckle out of him, for the way it always works- his dad is never afraid to do something scandalously funny to shock him out of overthinking. This includes trying to reach for him in a small, battered metal closet.

   Sometimes, it's just a thing that needs to be done.

   There's a can of something similiar to SoulGlad in violet-hued fingers, the comfortable silence, and his father's leg pressed against his as they sit with their backs on the wall. 

   A drop of condensation comes in contact with his thumb, unfelt. This is where Enigma breaks the silence.

   ' Dad... '

   He hesitates, a million questions in his mind. He picks the closest one, reels the others in.

   ' This feeling of emptiness... when will it stop? I thought it was going to go away on his own, but it never did. Never does. '

   There's an awry sound coming from his side. ' Hard to say, ' he starts, the movement that turns his face into a small grimace of sympathy. ' 'm kinda afraid that you put yourself into a bad situation, kid. '

   ' I did? '

   ' Yup. This... ' He gestures at Kaeya entirely, careful, ' avatar that you took, the one you told me belongs to your friend... you're really not supposed to do that. Take his looks, I mean- it just makes everything more complicated than it needs to be. Adds a whole lot of weight where there shouldn't be. Kinda jumbles everything that should be simple... ' 

   His dad trails off, irises taking on the looks of his stray without the irony shining in his eyes.

   ' You still haven't told me why ya picked him, out of all traits you could have taken. Of the amalgamate you coulda been. '

   No- no, he has not. The reason only makes sense in his brain, only tie together when Kaeya Alberich has been in the life of someone for a while. And Kaeya Alberich never got to know his father at all.

   His mouth opens, words lost. Impostor closes it, opens it again, shakes his head almost helplessly, the faint buzz of confusion starting behind his eyes before a warm hand ruffles his hair, stays in place over mussled cobalt locks.

   ' Don't sweat it, ' the man that is his father tells him, a lopsided grin on his face. ' As long as it makes sense to you, it's alright. You gotta solve this emptiness thing yourself- I can't help you much, here. '

   A few pats on his dusty behind, and his dad is up and going again. Kaeya shakes his head at the hand being offered to him, signaling that he'd like to be alone and in here a little longer.

   ' You gotta be glad we have a lotta time to think about stuff, no? 'is the last thing he tells Kaeya before he's out, leaving a wink and the bark of a laughter behind.

   and a cold can of soda, untouched.

   The hut is empty. There's nobody else but him, and the unheartly silence of the abandoned planet hs picked as his residence.

   Kaeya's digits follow the jagged edges of his newest wound, a gaping hole where pale diamond should be. The skin has been broken like porcelaine, long cobalt strands trying to hide the lack of eye and the emptiness where skull and human gore should be.

   Gray materia floats around his head, trying to recompose him and shoo his fingers, foreign, cold objects, away from the problem. But the wound is fresh, terribly big, and the effort requires an addictional component to speed up the healing factor. 

   The surviving eye is as faulty as the one he took from Kaeya Alberich: all he sees are shadows dancing out of his reach, the blurry, darkened form of the table, the chairs, the kitchenette and the items he so loves to decorate having become hostile obstacles he has to avoid.

   In the corner of the main room, there are two big tanks of the liquid coming from the Misty Sea- it's what he needs to fix the missing side of his head.

   It's what he needs. A few steps ahead, and he'll close his digits around the neck of one. Feel around the tab in the bathub, plug it in, and pour.

   Simple actions to restore himself.

   But he thinks. And thinks. And he can't do this.

   He can't do this.

   He just can't do this.

   He can't move. 

   But he has to.

   The next minutes, perhaps hours, perhaps days, are a blur. All he knows is that, when he comes to some sort of consciousness again, his fingers are still tight around the plastic neck of a much lighter tank, the smell of the restoring liquid is right under his nose. His location seems to have changed.

   Kaeya doesn't remember doing all this. All that he knows is that the ceramic of the bathub is so wonderfully cold and grounding against his warm, cracked skin, and he doesn't want to move. He has no will to, but something in his body has reacted to try and make him fix himself.

   But he can't do it. His legs feel like lead, like cement.

   He can't do it.

   He wants to.

   But he just can't do it.

   Triumph and progress feeds people with some sort of frenzy, an injection of adrenaline putting them on top of the world, wanting to shout to look at them! They can accomplish ANYTHING!

   But he isn't a person. It makes sense that the little energy he had after completing his mission has oozed out of him from the gaping wound.

   An injury won't kill him- simply slow him down. His dad and mentor said that he has all the time in the world to do what he needs and wants to do, figure out when the emptiness ends.

   Today, it doesn't. It presses him against the cold surface, and he's happy to allow his heavy body to surrender, letting his warmth disperse over it.

   He can stay like this for a bit. He did what he had to do, and now it's time for him to give in to exhaustion. Just for a little bit of time, just for a small nap.

   With the part of his forehead that can still feel, Kaeya curls against the side of cold marble, and lets his eyelid fall shut over the mocking of shadows dancing just out of his reach.

   Maybe the emptiness never goes away. But I can rest for a bit... just for a little bit... and then I'll be good to go.

   Just for a little bit...

[diseasedcube]

they did not have to go this hard omg

[dekuneho]

tenderly, tragically ☆ ( ​prohero!katsuki x reader ) — aftermath of a huge argument, clingy and soft katsuki my entire blog’s agenda

You wake to an empty bed once again — the third time this week. It’s cold on your right; that’s a bit unfair. Does Katsuki take all the love and warmth along with him? Or it could be because it’s two AM and every trace of fatigue drained out of you at the reminder of your lone bedroom, like a cold, empty picture of a memorial.

You shuffle out of bed, ignoring how strangely unsettling it is not to have a body to crawl over just to get to the kitchen. You forgo the house slippers; you only steal Katsuki's pair anyway — and right now, he's out of the question.

The kitchen feels just as stale. No surprise there. Katsuki's absence sucked the life out of your shared apartment.

A glimpse of orange by the dining table begs for your attention. You approach carefully, stomach swooping. It’s a lunchbox, still with leftover food greasing the sides, unwashed. You know this one well enough because you bought it for him. For Katsuki. This was never here before, though.

You aren't sure how the fight started, if it was something blandly petty, or if either of you crossed an unforgivable line that tipped towards a night of screaming and shrieking that had your neighbors complaining hours after. You find that you don't have it in yourself to care anymore. This apartment, that bed — all without Katsuki is worse than any hurtful dagger of words you threw at each other.

Your fingers skim on the orange lunchbox, tracing the little ‘X’s sprinkled throughout like some off-brand copy of his hero costume, intimately familiar. Katsuki snorted when you gifted it to him — it was a really, really ugly laugh.

"Oh."

You startle and whip your head to the source, gaze landing on Katsuki, stunned and mid-way through rubbing the back of his hair with a towel.

You flinch away from the lunchbox, embarrassed. Insulting him brought him to life.

The comfort you'd been craving for the past three days materialized in the physical embodiment of the person you were supposedly angry at. It’s hard to summon even a trace of it now, not when the person you’d been aching for is standing a few feet away, just shy out of reach.

“Why are you awake?” Katsuki starts, uncharacteristically soft, gratingly rough like left unused for a while.

“Why are you here?” you ask instead. You refuse to admit outright that you couldn’t sleep without him — refuse to admit that it’s what’s been eating you up since the fight.

Katsuki frowns. “This is my place too.”

“What?” You’re not even mad. You’re just — “I thought you crashed at Kirishima’s house this entire time.”

“I’m not just gonna—” Katsuki bites his tongue, looking off to the side. He continues drying his hair, the biceps of his arm rippling. “Been sleeping on the couch. So I didn’t wake you up, or whatever.”

Well, you don’t know what to feel. Are you supposed to feel excited that Katsuki still came home even when you both unspokenly swore not to face each other? Furious that he hasn’t tried to apologize and instead snuck around the apartment like a thief on a hit-and-run in the dead of the night?

Maybe both. You might just be relieved that he didn’t hate you enough to keep himself away, even if he didn’t crawl up in the same bed.

“Right,” you say in a soft exhale. “Okay.”

Katsuki’s eyes flick up to you again warily, dangerously still. You don’t know what to say to him, so you keep quiet. Red eagerly follows as you reach for his lunchbox and pad over to the kitchen sink. As if sensing his response, you spare him a glance.

“I’ll do it,” you say. “I’ll wash this. Go change.”

You face away from the bedroom with purpose, scrubbing diligently. Soon enough, his footsteps sound across the silent apartment, fading to your bedroom. His closet is there, meaning his clothes are stacked in it, too. You wonder if he’s ever looked at you asleep and thought it looked as empty as you felt it was.

After you rinse off the suds and wipe the excess water on the towel hanging over the stove, Katsuki greets you with a sight of him resting against the bedroom door frame. How rude. You’d given him a free pass, and he’s blocking you off in return.

“Katsuki,” you mutter, walking closer.

He stares, tracing the curve of your cheek and the swell of your mouth. You missed him, too. Now that he’s here, emanating heat, the vestiges of lethargy wriggle back into the bones of your body. You long for your bed; you long to take him along with you.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” Katsuki rasps out.

“Not right now.” You shake your head. “Not really.”

“Okay,” says Katsuki softly, shifting to shuffle past you.

You latch onto his wrist, trying your best to keep his gaze. “Sleep on the bed.”

Katsuki freezes, then turns and gazes into your eyes searchingly. You hope you can convey well enough that you hate him for fueling your bubbling fury, for sharing the heated remarks; most of all, you hate him for leaving.

“Okay,” Katsuki says again. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go to bed.”

Somehow, you end up on the bed with Katsuki’s arms caged around you from behind. His breaths hot against the nape of your neck, your body warmed head to toe. He has one leg in between your thighs, pulling you closer, and closer, until you can almost cry from how good it feels to be back here. You’ve given him an inch and knew he would take a mile.

“I don’t like when we fight,” Katsuki grumbles, sounding half-asleep.

“Mm.”

“So let’s just forget about it.”

“Is that healthy?”

“Dunno. Don’t care.” Katsuki’s mouth hovers over your neck, teeth marks a threat. “What’s unhealthy are the bags under my fuckin’ eyes.”

You laugh, breathy, and a violent shudder courses through Katsuki. You turn to your side to meet Katsuki’s little scowl, a pout. For every villain and civilian’s worst nightmare, he’s really charming. 

“Are you only trying to make it up to me so you don’t have to take up the couch?”

Katsuki would usually fire back with a snark, but this time, you get to watch as his eyes soften and his shoulders lose their tension. He hides it away with a large hand on your face in the guise of tousling your hair.

“No,” he murmurs, “can’t sleep without you.”

Your eyes slip shut, giddy like it’s your first date. “Then I guess our feelings are still mutual.”

[snowsinterlude]

need someone older.

(teacher!coriolanus × student!reader.)

summary: a teacher can do a lot in private lessons.

c.w: reader is 19 for repeating a year, age gap (coryo's 29), fingering, tummy bulge, heavy smut, edging (f. recieving), overstimulation, stuffed panties, mild public sex, petnames (coryo calls reader bunny, pet, good girl.), reader thinks coryo is married so . cheating implications, marriage proposal

being a dumb girl was something you tried your best to do ever since you repeated the first year of high school, watching all your friends graduating before you was something you weren't proud about- not for them, but for you. you were supposed to be by their side.

thankfully, you had your professor, coriolanus snow. god. he was the only reason for you to pay attention to class (or at least try to), you were hungry for his approval. for you to be called a "good girl", and be said that you've done well in your tests? yeah, you were willing to do anything for that.

when he offered you private classes, you said yeah without even thinking much. you needed to learn, and spending more time with him was something you craved for. the ring on his finger? fuck it. you wanted it. you deserved it. more than his wife – if he had one.

you've been day dreaming about it constantly, eyes always searching for his on every class you had with him, and he would keep that smile painted on his face, not wanting anyone to think you were the reason for him to be smiling, even if you were, the didn't need to know about it.

"bunny," he voiced, leaning on your desk and taking advantage of the fact that you both were on the library, every student on the school had gone home and the teachers had gathered to go to a nearby bar. "stop looking at my dick now, will we?" he said, chuckling at you.

"huh?" you asked, finally waking to your reality.

"you need to learn that if you don't want to repeat a grade again." he said, sitting by your side, his hand holding your thigh. "you don't want to repeat now, do you?" you shaked your head negatively, and he loved seeing you like that, shy as a kitten even if you usually had his dick on your mouth when that used to happen. "c'mon, don't look at me like that. we have to put these things on your brain if you want to graduate already." he said.

his fingers slowly travelled all the way up on your panties, finding a small damp on the fabric, he looked at you with his usual smirk, his pupils blown already from everything he was about to do to you.

and now you looked like a mess. hands gripping on the library desk as your legs trembled with the aftermath of every time you almost came. you counted six till now, crying from how good it felt having him behind you, his fingers thrusting lewdly into your cunt.

"c-coryo- t-teacher, please. please stop it, i have to cum- i can't hold it in anymore!" you begged, clenching as his fingers rubbed deliciously on your clit after thrusting so many times inside you.

"well, it's not my fault, pet. you're the one getting your questions wrong." he said, pulling his dick to tease the core of your pussy, your cries only making him feel and making his ego bigger. "tell me, baby, how do you want it?"

"q-quick, pleease! if it get slower i-i think i'll die!" you said, legs spread as your skirt revealed a small part of your ass.

"oh, c'mon, i'm sure you can take it, baby" he purred in your ear, the tip of his cock teasing your pussy and slapping your clit slightly, making your body jolt slightly. you bend over, your elbows being now your main support at that table.

"please, teacher..!" you begged. but he didn’t even bat an eye to your cries, slowly sliding his dick inside you, and fuck, you both fucked on wednesday, how come he always seems to stretch you up so good? the pace he choose to torture you with was so slow, making sure you felt every inch of his dick inside you, stretching you, making you his. "please, don't do that to me. j-just ask something easier!" you cried.

"easier? okay... let's see" his hips bucked slowly into yours, your pussy gushing around him as if your own body needed that- as if he was the hair you breathed for. "what's your age, babe?" he asked, a playful tone being cast as his free hand massaged your boob, pinching on your nipple and freeing both your boobs from it's cage.

"n-nineteen." you said, and he laughed again as he said: "good girl, you're right.", his hips giving you a powerful thrust that made you cum with only that, making you cry from your own humiliation.

"ah, bunny, don't tell me you came already only with that." he said, joking with your face as you cried.

"i'm sorry- too good. i-it was too deep." he laughed, pulling back and thrusting deeper again, this time, you made sure not to cum again, edging yourself as he changed your position to put your leg over his broad shoulder, his dick making a bulge appear at your tummy. he loved that view- much more than he loved you.

"look at you, taking me so well. how does it feel, baby? use one of the words we learned at the literature class," he grunted your tightness coating his dick with your own juices, "use them, even if it's just two, and i'll let you cum."

"tortuous," you begin, crying from how good it felt, from how dumb you were getting. "spiralling, it's twirling my insides!" you cried. and he smilled, kissing and licking your tears before placing the most gentle kiss on your lips, pouding faster into you as you closed your eyes shut, moaning and grunting from all the pleasure- and yet you tried your best to avoid moaning only to hear his moans and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.

"good girl." he said, his hands holding your hips as he fucked you. it felt truly out of your world experience. his phone ringed just at the right moment he hit your cervix. "t-teacher, your phone- it can be your wife." you said, earning a frown from him as he turned the phone off.

"wife? baby, i'm single." he said, chuckling at you. "you've been walking around school with my cum stuffed in your panties even thought you thought i was married?" he pounded into you with a more quicken pace. "god, what a dirty girl you are. fucking around with married teachers." he teased you.

you felt a heat on your cheeks that you never felt before. god, how much would you end up humiliating yourself? "b-but, fuck! y-your ring-"

he showed you the ring. taking it off his finger with his mouth and sticking his tongue to you, an invitation for you to take the ring.

"keep it." he said once you took the ring

"but- s-sir, i-"

"mm, bunny, i'm a faithful man." he said. "and right now, i'm faithful to you." he said. you squirmed deliciously at the feeling of his cock filling you up again, his tip on your cervix as you came again, and soon enough, he came too.

he helped you get dressed into your panties again and straightned your clothes, a cast kiss on your lips before he smiled sweetly at you, putting the ring on your middle finger.

"i hope you know what that means."

"i-i do." you said, for both questions heavily implied in that context.

"great. then make sure to graduate, bunny." he smiled. "i'm sure the honeymoon will be great."

[mythology-void]

okay so I was doing a Research™️ about ancient Greek etymology as one does and I found some Things that made me want to Violently Claw My Arms Off please allow me to force feed you my discoveries

So there are 2 words for "not" in ancient Greek, depending on the context: ou and mē. Having introduced himself in the Cyclops episode as " ou tis", or No-man, he then stabs Polyphemus in the eye. When Polyphemus' brothers come to check on him, they say this:

"... surely no man [mē tis] is carrying off your sheep? Surely no man [mē tis] is trying to kill you either by fraud or by force?"

Right after this, after the other cyclopes ditch Polyphemus, Odysseus's inner monologue goes something like this:

"Then they went away, and I laughed inwardly at the success of my clever strategem [metis]." (pronounced mEH-Tis)

Now, there's a difference between mē tis and metis. [mē tis] (pronounced mEH-Tis with a space between the syllables) is the literal translation for "no man". Metis is a word for extreme intelligence/cunning, which is something Odysseus is famous for.

Now, there are several examples of abuse of metis/intelligence in the Odyssey, but I think the juxtaposition between [mē tis], or the concept of anonymity, and metis, or extreme intelligence, is REALLY interesting. Odysseus's adoption of the title "No-man" was characteristic of metis--it was a really smart move that simultaneously hid him from the cyclops and avoided any future consequences. It was a highly effective strategy all wrapped up in a nest little package with a bow on it.

But when he revealed himself as Odysseus of Ithaca, effectively throwing off No-man (anonymity and [mē tis]), that was characterized as idiocy--he's essentially doxxed himself, and now he's doing to (spoiler alert) get tossed around the Mediterranean by Poseidon for the next 10 years.

This is really interesting because it lets you see the parallels/codependency between metis(intelligence) and humility. When Odysseus refused to allow himself to go unnoticed (hubris) he suffered for it. BUT when he declined instant glory/satisfaction (kleos) in order to achieve the long term goal of survival, he was rewarded with Athena's favor (pay attention. This part is important).

And this situation repeats itself MULTIPLE TIMES in the Odyssey--the EXACT SAME THING happens near the end of the book, with the suitors. When. Odysseus is dressed as a beggar and the suitors/Antinious are abusing him, he ACTIVELY CHOOSES not to react--he doesn't stand up and rip off his disguise and start hollering "TIS I, ODYSSEUS OF ITHACA! FEAR MY WRATH"

No. He sits there patiently and waits. He plans and schemes and quietly orchestrates their downfall without alerting them of it. Why? Because he learned his lesson the first time this happened. He buried his rage and adopted what was, according to Grace LA Franz, a more feminine form of metis, weaving a web of destruction for his enemies that ultimately resulted in their total annihilation (see Weaving a Way to Nostos: Odysseus and Feminine Metis in the Odyssey by Grace LaFranz). His patience allowed him to win the whole prize--no questions asked, no 10-year-long-business-trip strings attached--just the sweetness of a full victory. And he is, once again, rewarded with Athena's favor--both in the battle with the suitors and in the aftermath (cleanup/reuniting with Penelope).

This really reinforces the idea in the Odyssey that Odysseus's defining characteristic is not just his intelligence--it's his ability to learn from his mistakes. He used what he learned at the Lotus Eaters Island against Polyphemus--the Lotus Eaters drugged his men, so he drugged Polyphemus. He used what he learned from Circe and Polyphemus against the suitors--Circe used false sweetness and honeyed words to lure his men into a trap, so that's exactly what he did to the suitors. His hubris on Polyphemus' island cost his whole crew their lives, so he intentionally left well enough alone until the right time. He didn't just learn from his failures--he turned them into BATTLE STRATEGY.

i don't care what anyone says that is completely totally and objectively awesome