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justagalwhowrites · 3 months ago

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The Savage and the Sanctuary - Ch. 1: Wrong Foot

Joel takes on a new contract as a bodyguard. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Non-consensual groping (not by Joel.) Mention of grief and child loss. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 7.1k

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Next Chapter

Two years later - September 2024

“You really want me for this one?” he asked as he rode up the elevator at the nicest hotel in Austin. Even after two years protecting wealthy assholes, Joel wasn’t used to shit like this. The fast elevators and the plush carpets and the trappings of wealth that provided everything his charges needed. Everything, it seemed, except safety.

For that, they needed him.

Protecting people, as it happened, was something Joel was good at. It almost surprised him how good he was at it. It forced him to be aware of what was happening around him for a change instead of just moving through the world like a ghost. It took that awareness for him to even realize just how dead he’d been in the years since the death of his daughter.

Usually, things went fine. Most often, he was shepherding tech or oil executives with inflated egos from business meeting to business meeting while they were in town and looking the other way when they cheated on their wives or put half his salary up their noses. Nothing ever happened with those assholes.

Occasionally, though, his job got interesting. Rabid fans tried to mob some pop star Joel had never heard of at a club on 6th Street once and he had to carry her out, forcing his way through the crowd before she got crushed. Then there was the supermodel who was posing for photos with fans when one little college-aged fucker thought it would be smart to grab her ass to cop a feel. Joel took a little too much pleasure in punching him so hard that he fell to the floor, knocked clean out. The football player had been the biggest trouble, though. Some hotshot asshole who’d just won the Super Bowl coming back to his college town to party. He picked a fight with the wrong drug dealer and damn near got shot for it, Joel whisking him away and getting winged in the shoulder by the bullet for his trouble.

He didn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he liked when the work got dicey. Being shot at was the closest to alive Joel has felt in years. Getting to lay out some asshole without the cops trying to arrest him for it had been the highlight of his month. It made him very good at his job and he liked that, both things that surprised him.

“You’re my best guy,” Tommy said. “You’ve seen more action on this job than almost any of the other guards and they want someone with a good history. Plus you don’t give a shit about… higher profile clientele. I can’t put fuckin’ James on a job with someone he knows, he’ll fan boy over ‘em. Remember when that one band came through?”

“Jesus,” Joel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been an easy job but it was one that he’d had to do most of the work on, James practically giddy the entire time. “Yeah, you’re right. So, what, this some pop star or somethin’?”

“Not sure,” Tommy said. “They’ve been playin’ it real close to the chest, won’t ID ‘em until we sign an NDA.”

“So you got no idea what we’re workin’ with,” Joel said, grinding his teeth.

“Just that it’s someone people know,” Tommy said. “Long term contract, real good money. They mentioned a stalker, they’re bringing all the information along on that to review, wanted you to see it before we signed on.”

Joel nodded slowly.

“Well,” he said. “Least it’ll be interesting.”

They made it to the top floor of the hotel, only four doors and Joel fought the urge to laugh. God, this breed of rich asshole was a whole new level.

Tommy led the way to a door labeled Presidential Suite and knocked, a young woman with close cropped dark hair and a headphone in her ear answered the door.

“One second,” she said, tapping her headphone before she smiled at the two men. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Miller. My boss prefers to have people come to where she is when she travels, I’m sure you can understand…”

“Of course,” Tommy said. “Happy to go wherever you need.”

“Can I get you anything?” She asked, leading the way into a hotel suite that had to be damn near the size of Joel’s entire house. “Coffee? Water? Tea? Also have a variety of Coke I think you call it here if you’d like that.”

“Water’s fine,” Tommy said.

“Still, sparkling?” She asked. “Also have cucumber, lemon, mint…”

“Uh,” Tommy blinked for a moment and Joel fought the urge to laugh. “Still’s fine. None of that other stuff.”

She nodded before she looked to Joel, her brows raised.

“Coffee,” he said. “Black.”

“Of course,” she smiled, leading them to a sitting room and gesturing to a couch. “Quinn will be with you shortly.”

She disappeared and returned with their drinks, handing them to each of them with a smile before she tapped the headphone again.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice almost syrupy sweet as she went to another room. “I appreciate you waiting since you’re apparently so willing to try to fuck us over…”

Tommy’s eyes went wide and he looked at Joel, the conversation becoming almost silent as she closed the door behind her.

“Definitely ain’t from around here,” Joel said.

“Guess not,” Tommy said.

It wasn’t long - Joel only drank half the coffee which was far better than he was expecting it to be - when another door opened, a woman closer to his own age coming out, dressed in an expertly fitted gray suit, her dark hair in long, tiny braids that hung to her waist. Sarah had always liked hair like that, always begged Joel to let her get them. He wished he had whiskey for his coffee.

The woman was on the phone, too, but she was on speaker.

“I don’t care,” she said. “You know the deal and I’m not going to just sit here and pretend that you don’t because you decided today was the day to play fucking games. Call me when you want to handle shit like a fucking grown up.”

She hung up and sat heavily on the couch opposite them, the girl who answered the door almost scurrying into the room and hovering near the large coffee table. The woman in the suit - Quinn, Joel assumed - giving her a single nod and she rushed off, quickly returning with a bottle of water and several folios.

“Tommy,” Quinn smiled. “While it’s good to see you again, I’m sure you’ll understand when I say I’m looking forward to getting this settled so we can stop meeting like this.”

Tommy smiled back.

“Can’t say I disagree,” he said. “Wanted you to have the chance to meet Joel, he’ll be the lead on this contract assuming we go ahead. He’s one of my best guys, got the history you asked for…”

“I’m sure being your brother doesn’t hurt,” she smiled a little. Joel raised his eyebrows and looked to Tommy but she answered his unspoken question. “We pulled backgrounds for everyone on your payroll. We can’t be too careful.”

She tossed one of the leather folios on the table.

“This is what we’re up against,” she said. “Redacted, of course, so you can’t ascertain who my client is but you’ll have access to the full versions should you accept the contract and sign the necessary NDAs. We’ve naturally brought them to the police and they believe the threat is credible. They have a lot of information - some of these were sent to my client’s private residence, for example - and it’s clear they’ve seen my client in person numerous times. We have reason to believe they will follow my client wherever she goes and there is genuine concern for escalation…”

Tommy picked up the file and looked it over, nodding slowly, before passing a page off to Joel. It was the photo copy of a printed letter.

You were beautiful today in that green dress.

One day, you’ll come home to me. One day, I’ll make you see.

Joel passed the page back to Tommy.

“I can see why you’re concerned,” Tommy said, handing the folio back. “Don’t seem like anything we can’t handle. I think we’re alright to move forward with the contract as discussed…”

There was a knock at the door and the girl ran to go answer it, Quinn ignoring it completely.

“Excellent,” she said, grabbing another folio and passing it over. “This is the contract and the NDA, already reviewed by your legal team. We just require a wet signature.”

Tommy nodded, looking over the pages, anyway, and Joel was starting to wonder why he’d had to be trotted out like some kind of prize show pony just to sign some damn paperwork when there was a commotion at the door.

“This really isn’t necessary,” the girl was saying, her voice oddly pleading, the total opposite of how she’d been on the phone.

“Oh I’m sure Quinn won’t mind,” another voice - a new one but there was a tug of familiarity to it that set Joel’s teeth on edge - said. “I am her favorite client, after all.”

Quinn’s head snapped in the direction of the sound and, in a sweep of gauzy clothes and floral perfume, you were there.

Joel recognized you immediately, everything about you seeming to have been built to be remembered. The whole world remembered you, it had been years since he’d been able to escape you. The biggest movie star on the planet, helming major franchises and winning fucking Oscars, on the cover of gossip rags at the fucking grocery store and on billboards advertising perfume and on Saturday Night Live. In person, from the second you appeared, you were a force. Your face, your voice, the way you held yourself, no wonder he always noticed you when you were all around him. No wonder his daughter had been obsessed with you.

Your face was a poster on her wall, a picture where you had the slightest, confident smile on your lips but your eyes always seemed sad. You turned those eyes to him, ranging over him like you were taking stock and Joel’s heart stuttered before your gaze turned to Tommy and back to Quinn.

“So glad you got the meeting started without me,” you said, all saccharine sweetness, stepping over Joel’s legs and sitting down on the edge of the couch between him and Tommy. You crossed one elegant leg over the other - your pants ever so slightly sheer so Joel could just make out your thigh below the loose fabric - and leaned forward, taking Joel’s white china coffee cup off the table and helping yourself to a sip with a jingle of your bangles that were piled high on your wrists. You gave him a wink as you did, setting the cup back on its saucer before leaning onto your leg, your arms folded in front of you. “I’m sure the fact that I didn’t know it was happening has nothing to do with wanting to cut me out of the decision making for something that’s going to be apparently integral to my life over the next year.”

“I just don’t want to bog you down with petty things like this,” Quinn waved you off. “You have enough on your plate, that’s what you pay me for…”

“Oh I’m sure that’s all it is…”

Quinn leaned forward, too, meeting your steely gaze from across the table. The knowing smile that had been on her lips just a second earlier was gone. In its place was a no nonsense expression that Joel imagined carried her far when dealing with Hollywood assholes. She, it seemed, was done coddling you.

“The studios know,” she cut you off. “Someone at the police station leaked it. And they won’t insure you without higher levels of security, especially if you want to spend this much time outside LA. You want to keep working? You need security. At least until we get to the bottom of whoever is sending you letters.”

“Have you tried telling them how well the tickets will sell when I die?” You asked, brows raised. “I’m sure they’ll be champing at the bit then, especially now that they can just replace me with CGI for whatever isn’t in the can…”

“That’s not funny,” Quinn said sharply.

“Oh, come on. It was a little funny.”

She glared at you.

“Do you really want someone like that getting close to her?” She asked, her voice almost unsettlingly earnest and gentle. You almost deflated then, giving in. “It’s not safe, babe. I’m trying to keep you safe. It just so happens that it’s also in the studio’s best interest so you don’t have to foot the entire bill.”

“You must not have told them about the boost in ticket sales, then,” you said wryly. She rolled her eyes. “But fine. If you really think there’s a risk to her? I’ll do it.”

Joel wondered who this “her” was. Knowing movie stars, probably some tiny fucking dog you carried in your goddamn purse.

You looked to Joel for a moment, your gaze oddly cutting, like you were seeing through every part of him before turning your attention to Tommy.

“When does your contract begin then?”

Tommy glanced at Joel, almost asking if he was actually OK with this. Clearly, this wasn’t what Tommy had expected either. Joel gave a minute shrug.

“Tomorrow,” Tommy said, looking back to you. “Joel here will be your point man but you’ll also be working with a few other guys from my company. He’ll get you oriented tomorrow and we can work out a way to ensure your protection that’s minimally disruptive to your daily life.”

You scoffed.

“Something tells me having a wall of muscle follow me everywhere is going to disruptive,” you said. “But the studio says jump, we say how high, right?”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules,” Quinn said.

“We all know who does,” you muttered darkly, getting to your feet. “Well, since all this was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not, I think I’m done wasting my time here.”

You turned to Joel and he found himself in the unnatural position of looking up to someone, his jaw tight as you levied those exacting eyes on him again.

“See you in the morning,” you said, reaching down and helping yourself to another sip of his coffee with a wink before stepping over his legs and heading out the door in a whirl of soft perfume and flowing fabric. He looked back to the coffee cup. Your lipstick was on the rim.

Joel tried not to think about how you looked at him as Tommy finished up with the formalities, the conversation between his brother and Quinn a drone he couldn’t really make out over the noise in his head as his leg bounced impatiently.

When Tommy had looked at him just now, the silent request for permission, he should have bowed out. He should have said he didn’t want to put his life on the line for some spoiled fucking brat and gone home. But he hadn’t and he couldn’t back out of this now. It didn’t matter how much you made him think of his daughter. It didn’t matter how your eyes seemed to cut him to the quick. He owed Tommy. When he’d started in this business, he’d told his brother that he could do this work and sometimes that meant doing shit he wasn’t comfortable with. He would just have to live with that.

Eventually, Joel gave up on sitting still.

“Be downstairs,” he said gruffly to Tommy when the conversation with Quinn lulled for a moment. He didn’t wait for a response before going for the elevator, relieved that it as empty on the way down to the lobby as it had been on the way up.

But the ground floor of the hotel was not the quiet place it had been when Joel had arrived. Instead, there was a press of people just outside the doors, phones up and loud enough that he could hear them through the glass. He frowned for a moment before he realized what it was, the metal of your bangles catching the light as your arm rose above the crowd, a phone clutched in your hand as you took a selfie.

“Jesus,” Joel muttered, stalking over toward the door.

At least, he thought, he wasn’t on duty until tomorrow. If you really wanted to handle shit that bad on your own? Fine by him.

The doorman held the door for him and Joel gave him a stiff nod as he tried to force his way from the building, but the press of people was becoming suffocating, every inch of sidewalk crammed tight.

“Can I get a selfie?”

“My girlfriend loves you, can you say hi to her on video?”

“Can I have an autograph?”

“Look, I’m happy to give you all whatever you want,” you said, voice friendly but still curt. “But I need a little room to breathe, OK? I’m not in a rush, we’ve got time, it’s…”

Someone from the outside edge of the crowd shoved forward, sending the press of people toward you, Joel tall enough that he could see how they tripped and jostled, sending you stumbling into the person at your back. You had to fight for the space to stand up again, the man you’d fallen into’s hand running up your side to your chest, cupping the underside of your breast as you tried to find a way to separate from him. If it wasn’t for the look on his face, Joel might have given him the benefit of the doubt. But his lecherous smile gave him away, and the thinly veiled look of disgust on your face told him you knew exactly what this man was trying.

Something that hadn’t existed much since Joel lost everything took over. It was rage, blind and violent and coursing through him sharp and heady. That rage didn’t give him a chance to really think, but then, it never had. Not when he was a kid and his dad was on some bender, not when he was some hotheaded teenager looking to pick a fight with a bully at school, not when he was at a bar and saw someone who could have killed his daughter. It was no different now as he practically dove into the crowd, forcing the group apart and not caring if people got pushed into the street or shoved to the ground.

“Move!” Joel yelled, not that it seemed to do much beyond warn people that he was coming for them. He reached you in a matter of seconds, towering over the man who’d decided to take advantage of your vulnerable position to grope you. The man - more of a kid, likely some student at UT who didn’t know his ass from hole in the ground - gaped up at him, his eyes wide and his hand still on your breast.

Joel took your arm and pulled you, roughly, away from his grip, tucking you behind him before refocusing on the kid in front of him.

“You think that shit’s funny?” Joel asked, his hand curling into a fist. “Touchin’ a woman without permission?”

“I was just…” he looked afraid and something inside Joel flared with pride at that. Look at what he could do, he thought, it looked like he was capable of something after all.

“Know what you were just,” Joel cut him off, mockingly, before grabbing him by his shirt and slamming him back into a marble pillar. The kids head smacked against it with sickening crack. “Do that shit again and I’ll bust your jaw.”

Joel released him and the kid slumped to the ground before he turned to find you, looking down at the kid with your mouth slightly open.

“C’mon,” Joel said, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into him, ducking your head down low to ruin the picture for anyone who might be trying to take one. “Let’s go.”

He looked around, the crowd thinner now but all watching him.

“Move!” He roared again. This time, they listened, parting like the Red Sea as he ushered you quickly away, back into the hotel. He looked to the door man, trying not to glare at him too hard. “Those assholes don’t come inside, we clear?”

“Yes sir,” the man said quickly.

Joel looked to you next.

“Where’s your car?”

“Valet,” you said, your forehead in your hand. “I didn’t get a chance to even grab it yet, someone must have tipped off some fucking gossip blog that I was here…”

“Got the ticket?” Joel asked. You sighed and fished it out of your pocket and handed it over before Joel took it to the front desk and told them to have your car brought out back. He also got directions to the loading dock before going back to find you, in the same spot on the plush lobby couch, fingers laced together, elbows braced on your knees.

“C’mon,” Joel said, making you jump before looking up at him. “They’re bringing your car around back, we’ll get you out of here without those fuckers knowin’.”

You looked back down at the ground before giving a stiff nod.

“Thanks.” You got up and took a deep breath, raising your chin, an almost serene look on your face before looking to him. “Lead the way.”

He did as you asked, watching like a hawk for anyone who might be stupid enough to try to talk to you. But no one seemed to pay you any mind, even as the two of you cut through the dining room - closed between lunch and dinner service - and into the kitchen, where dozens of cooks were working to get set for the evening. They just ducked around the pair of you, sometimes giving Joel a dirty look for getting in their way, and then you were at the loading dock.

“Here,” Joel said, jumping down from the edge of it to the alley still damp from rain from the night before. He held his hands out to you. “I’ll help you down.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather do it myself,” you said. You were more cautious about it than Joel but you jumped down and landed lightly beside him, brushing your hands free of the dirt from the dock before crossing your arms tightly over your chest. Your jaw was tight, the only sign on your calm, uncommonly beautiful face that something might be wrong. Joel crossed his arms, too.

“You OK?” He asked after a moment.

You looked at him for a second, your brows raised ever so slightly.

“Fine,” you said after a moment before staring straight ahead again.

“You sure?” He asked. He wasn’t sure why he was pressing. He shouldn’t care. He didn’t care.

“Yes,” you said and then you laughed once, sharply. “I mean, no, I’m not but what the fuck am I going to do about it? It’s part of the job, isn’t it?”

Joel ground his teeth.

“Shouldn’t be.”

“Regardless,” you shrugged, glancing at him again. “Thank you for your help. You didn’t have to do that and… Well, I appreciate it.”

“Sure,” he said as your car came around the corner. You dropped your arms before turning to face him.

“Looks like it’s you and me starting tomorrow,” you said. “I’m sure your boss will give you all the details but I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Joel,” he said after a moment. “Miller.”

You smiled, a small, almost hesitant one, the slightest upturn of your lips.

“Joel Miller,” you repeated back to him. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m…”

“Don’t need to tell me your name,” he said. “Pretty sure everyone on Earth knows your name.”

You laughed again in that same, humorless way as your car stopped beside you.

“Yeah,” you said. “I suppose they do. See you tomorrow, Joel.”

“See you tomorrow, ma’am.”

He watched you pull cash out of your pocket and smile more broadly at valet who was damn near gawking at you. You discreetly handed him the money as you shook his hand and Joel stayed there in the alley until he couldn’t see your car any more.

“Holy shit,” the valet said and Joel looked down at him. He had to be about 18 years old, still wet behind the ears. Probably had fucking posters of you up in his room that he jerked off to before he went to bed. He held up the cash. “She gave me 100 bucks!”

Joel looked down at him, making sure to draw himself to his full height.

“You gonna tell anyone we got her out this way?” He asked. The kid swallowed hard and shook his head. “Good.”

Joel tried not to grind his teeth as he went back inside to find his brother. He wished it wasn’t too late to back out of this. You, he thought, were going to be far more than he’d bargained for. He just hoped he was ready for it.

***

“I’m not wearing this.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Seriously dude?” You asked, incredulous. “Can’t you wait like… two days before picking a fight?”

“Have you seen this fucking thing?” Ellie’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs as she held up the hem of the blue plaid skirt that, you had to admit, looked sickeningly unnatural on your 14-year-old niece. “You could put a whole circus up this thing! And how am I supposed to kick someone’s ass in a fucking skirt?”

“First of all, language,” you said. She rolled her eyes. You ignored her. “Second of all, you shouldn’t be kicking anybody’s ass. Why are you starting your day thinking about ass kicking? You haven’t even met these kids yet, I highly doubt you’ll need to kick someone’s ass your first day.”

“I’d like to be able to kick someone’s ass if I need to,” she said, incredulous. “Come on. You know this is insane.”

You sighed as the doorbell rang and you checked your watch. 7 a.m. on the nose. Well, at least the man was prompt.

“Fine,” you sighed. “Run upstairs, put on something else…”

Ellie took off as Esmo, your household assistant, appeared next to you, Joel by her side.

“Morning,” he said, voice gruff. You looked him over quickly, a side arm at his belt on a pair of jeans that fit him entirely too well. You doubted they were tailored, either, they just fit him like that, the bastard. Just your luck that you’d get stuck with a bodyguard who was unnaturally good looking but also an asshole. “Thought we could get started with…”

“Sorry, that won’t work, things are a bit off the rails this morning,” you said to him quickly, not giving him a chance to respond before turning to Esmo.

“Do you still have the name of the uniform store?” You asked her. “If you do, can you see if they’re open? I think we’re going to need to stop for pants…”

“Yes ma’am,” she said, quickly pulling out her phone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think to get pants, the requirements were very clear…”

“It’s not your fault,” you said quickly. Esmo had only been working for you for a few weeks and it felt like the two of you were still getting used to each other. She insisted on calling you ma’am. You insisted on doing too much for yourself. It was a delicate balance. “She’s just…”

“OK,” Ellie came thundering down the stairs in the same sweater with a button down shirt and tie but jeans instead of the skirt. “Ready!”

“Store opened at seven,” Esmo said, pocketing her phone. “I can take her and…”

“I want to do it,” you cut her off, catching a glimpse of Joel’s shocked expression out of the corner of your eye as you looked back to your niece. “Alright trouble maker, ready to go?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“Girl,” you said. “Language, please!”

She made a face but made her way to the front door, anyway, her thumbs looped through the straps of her book bag and you turned to Joel, still surprised at just how large he was, even after being against him the day before.

“Assuming you’re along for the ride on this,” you said, jerking your head for the door. “But we gotta book it, with an extra stop we’re already not going to be early for her first day.”

He still had a look of almost shock on his face but he followed behind you as you grabbed your keys and wristlet from the bowl by the door, Ellie bouncing impatiently from foot to foot.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were excited,” you teased as you made you way to the Porsche SUV you’d gotten specifically to haul Ellie around. “Almost like you want to go to school instead of hanging out with me all day.”

“Spending time with old people does get… well, old,” she smirked, heading for the passenger seat but you stopped her.

“Absolutely not, you’re in back,” you said, jerking a thumb toward Joel - who still hadn’t spoken. “This man has a good foot on you, we’re not making him sit back there.”

“Ugh, fine,” she huffed but obeyed, throwing her book bag against the opposite door before clambering in as Joel went for the driver’s seat, holding out his hand for the keys. You gave him a look but he just raised his brow, his arm still extended expectantly.

“Please,” you scoffed. “I’ll let you follow me around like some guard dog but I’m keeping some last vestige of my autonomy. I’m driving.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“No.”

“And why not?” You asked. “Because you have control issues?”

“Do you know evasive driving tactics?” He asked. “How to watch for pursuers and safely out run them?”

“No, but I did my own stunt driving for the Fast Track franchise,” you said wryly. “Think I’ll be fine. Now move, you’re making us late.”

He ground his teeth.

“We’re talkin’ about this,” he muttered before stalking off to the passenger side of the car.

“Yeah I bet we are,” you said under your breath as you got in the car and programmed the GPS for the uniform store.

“So,” Ellie said in a teasing tone as she leaned between the front seats as you started off. “Who are you?”

“Put on your seatbelt,” he said.

She rolled her eyes but sat back and obeyed.

“This is Joel,” you answered for him. “He’s going to be around quite a bit.”

“Is he like another assistant or some shit?” She asked.

“Language,” you said and you caught a glimpse of her rolling her eyes in your rearview mirror. “And no, not an assistant.”

“Ohhhh,” she smirked. “So he’s like a boyfriend then, got it…”

Joel rolled his eyes.

“I’m a bodyguard,” he said. “I’ll be protecting your…”

“Bodyguard?” Ellie interrupted and leaned forward again, frowning. “Why do you need a bodyguard? You didn’t have one of those in LA, what the fuck?”

“I have a bodyguard because you can’t go five minutes without saying fuck,” you said wryly. “My life is under constant threat because of…”

“Please,” Ellie rolled her eyes. “You have a worse mouth than I do. But seriously, why do you need a bodyguard? Is something going on?”

You saw Joel moving to talk but you spoke before he had a chance to.

“This is just a different place than LA,” you said quickly. “People here aren’t used to people like me just showing up in grocery stores and stuff. It can get out of hand quick so the studio wanted me to have Joel around. It’s just a precaution.”

She seemed skeptical but was satisfied enough by the bullshit explanation you’d just given her that she sat back, pulling a Savage Starlight comic book from her book bag and you smiled a little. A lot might have changed in the last few months but at least Ellie was still Ellie.

You made it to the uniform store and told the woman inside - who was seemingly trying not to gape at you but was failing miserably - what you were looking for. She grabbed a few pairs of uniform pants in different sizes before leading Ellie to the fitting rooms and you hung back, waiting for her to change with Joel by your side. He stood facing you, eyes constantly sweeping the store as though this strip mall just outside Austin were a war zone.

“No one told me you had a kid,” he said eventually.

You smiled, sadly.

“Yeah, well,” you said. “I have a kid. That’s a pretty new development, though.”

That made him pause, his eyebrows drawing together as he looked to you.

“I adopted her,” you said. “A few months ago. Her mom was a single parent and like a sister to me. When she got cancer, the first thing she asked me was to take Ellie if… I told her that she was nuts, that she’d be around forever and she wouldn’t need me to do anything for Ellie besides take her to Europe for a cool aunt vacation when she turned 18 but… well, now I have a kid.”

“I…” His voice trailed off. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

You shrugged.

“It is what it is, I guess,” you said. “She’s why I’m here. Things in LA… I’ve always been in her life. I was the second person to ever hold her. But I’ve always kept the paparazzi far away from her, I’ve made sure she has privacy and that she was as sheltered from that part of my life as she could be. I want to settle into this with some version of normal, one that isn’t possible when I’m in LA. And you, Joel, are throwing quite a wrench into that.”

“Oh this is so much better,” Ellie threw the door to the changing room open with a flourish, in a pair of blue pants that perfectly matched the blue of the sweater. “Not as good as jeans but better than that stupid freaking skirt.”

“Alright,” you said. “We’ll take five of those and then we have to get you to school because there’s no point in loading you up on uniforms just to have you miss your first day, let’s go.”

You weren’t as early as you wanted to be - you’d been hoping to have a chance to meet Ellie’s teachers before the day started but that plan was shot - but at least kids were still arriving. You grabbed a baseball cap from your glove box, Joel stiffening as you reached between his legs to open it and you resisted the urge to smirk at that. As though you’d be trying to come onto him at all let alone with your niece in the car.

Hat on so you were somewhat disguised, you walked with Ellie and Joel to the front of the stone building, one that had clearly taken inspiration from the ivy league schools the kids who went here were all but destined to attend. A gray haired woman in a charcoal pantsuit rushed out to greet you, an almost stern look on her face.

“Welcome to Austin Preparatory Academy,” she extended her hand. “I’m Amanda Stark, headmistress here.”

“Good to meet you,” you said, taking her hand, feeling Joel standing oddly close to your back. “This is Ellie, she’s looking forward to starting here today and…”

“We’re looking forward to having her,” she smiled a little at Ellie before redirecting her attention to you. “But I’m afraid there’s been some… ah… miscommunication about the uniform. Girls are required to wear skirts. I’m sure we have…”

“No miscommunication,” you smiled a little, steeling your spine. From the moment you’d caved to Ellie, you knew this was coming. But you’d been prepared to fight far bigger battles over this kid, this wasn’t going to be any different. “Ellie just prefers to wear pants. It wasn’t a problem at her last school, I’m sure it won’t be a problem here.”

Ellie stuck her chin out, smirking a little and defiant as ever and you resisted the urge to elbow her. She could at least act like she wasn’t going to get her way.

“But it is,” the headmistress said. “The uniform code here has been this way for decades and…”

“And I’m sure you’re not suggesting that just because something has been done one way that it should continue to be done that way at the expense of students’ comfort and learning experience,” you finished for her, smiling tightly.

“We have expectations for our students,” she said, her jaw clenched. “Just like they will have one day to be successful in life, and…”

“And you’re wearing pants,” you nodded to her suit. “And so am I. Of course, if you’re suggesting that neither of us is successful then…”

“No, no of course not, that’s not…”

“Wonderful!” You said brightly. “I’m glad that’s settled. I’m sure Ellie won’t cause any disruption wearing the uniform pants and now I won’t need to spend my day contacting every major news network here in Austin and asking them to come here and chat with me about your archaic gender rules and expectations. Sound good?”

You watched her grind her teeth for a moment.

“Of course,” she said after a moment of silence hanging in the air. “But we are close to the start of the school day and…”

“Yes, I don’t want to be a distraction,” you smiled before turning to Ellie, tucking a hair that had already broken free of her ponytail behind her ear. “Alright kid, behave yourself, OK?”

“Yes Sissy,” she rolled her eyes. Your heart still tightened a little when she called you that. She sounded so much like her mother, Anna. You loved that Ellie called you the same thing her mother had but still, it stung.

“I’ll be back to pick you up,” you said, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Have a good first day, OK?”

“Oh I will,” she said and you watched her head into the building with the headmistress at her side until you couldn’t see her anymore.

“OK, she’s dropped,” Joel said, his voice tight. “Let’s move, this place isn’t secured.”

“Well that sure seems like a gap in security, doesn’t it?” You said, brows raised.

“One I would have fixed if anyone had bothered to tell me you had a damn kid,” he practically growled.

“Probably a bad idea for your boss to not have insisted on bringing me into the conversation then, wasn’t it?”

He looked at you, his face hard.

“Keys.” He held out his hand.

You laughed once.

“Keys?” You said. “Really? Just ‘keys,’” you grunted it like he did, “that’s it?”

“Your kid is inside,” he said, hand still out. “Don’t have her to use an excuse now so, keys.”

You looked at him for a moment, the firm set of his jaw, the flecks of gray just starting in at his temples. He was a good looking man, tall and broad with a rugged look to him. He’d make a good cowboy in a western, you thought, or maybe a hardened detective. But protecting someone like you seemed out of place for him. Beneath him a little, almost like he was a sell out.

“No,” you said simply, ducking around him and heading for the car.

He followed closely behind you, even his footfalls gruff and angry. You sped up a little but he stepped in front of you, anyway, his oddly large body blocking your door. He opened his mouth - probably to try to order you around again - but you cut him off before he had the chance.

“I’m not letting you drive,” you said. “It doesn’t matter what you do or what you say. If you want to drive, you’re going to have to pick me up and move me so, if you want to get out of here quickly and without causing a scene, you’ll get in the passenger seat and we can go.”

For half a moment, you thought he might actually throw you over his shoulder. Instead, he just grunted and stalked around to the other side of the car, ripping the door open roughly. You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. All this pretense over some stupid letters from some over zealous fan.

You got in the car and dropped the keys in Joel’s lap. He frowned, picking them up.

“You want to have the keys so bad? Fine.” You pushed the button and the car roared to life. “I’ve got them right where I want them.”

“You gotta come to terms with how this shit is going to work,” he said sharply. “You can’t just do whatever the hell it is you feel like. I get that you’re some spoiled fuckin’ actress who only ever does exactly what she wants whenever she wants but I got news for you, I don’t give a shit how many movies you’ve been in or awards you’ve won. I care about keeping your ass alive and to do that, you gotta listen to me. I ain’t one of those fuckin’ ass kissers you spend all your time with so we can do this the hard way or the easy way but either way, it’s gonna be my fuckin’ way. Understood?”

You watched him for a moment, your tongue between your teeth to keep from snapping at him. It was something you were used to, something you’d been doing since you were a girl, always shutting up while the people who were more powerful than you - people you’d made fucking rich - made every decision for you.

That was one thing on set and in your career and even for posed fucking paparazzi shots but not in your real life.

“I need coffee,” you said, putting the car in drive. “Coffee?”

“I’m sure you got people who can do that for you,” he said, his jaw clenched.

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?” You smirked before nodding down to his wrist. “Oh, also? Your watch is broken.”

You pressed the gas harder than you should have, the car jumping sharply forward, wondering just how far you could push your new shadow before he backed out.

Next Chapter

A/N: OK I'm already in love with writing how these two push each other's buttons. Annoying Joel Miller is my passion, I can't wait to drive this man absolutely insane over the arc of this fic.

Thank you so much for being patient as I wrapped up Yearling and went on vacation! I'm hoping to update this once a week going forward so you won't need to wait quite so long between chapters from here on out. I hope you enjoyed getting to know these two a little better!

Taglist: @christinamadsen @eff4freddie @brittmb115 @copperhalfcent @r3dheadedwitch @pedropascalsbbg @lovelyjess69 @yopossum @moel-jiller @picketniffler

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #the savage and the sanctuary #bodyguard!joel #bodyguard au #slow burn #enemies to friends to lovers

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moondirti · 1 year ago

Text

𝟏𝟒. WANT

CHAPTER FOURTEEN OF ANIMALIC | MIGUEL O'HARA X F!READER

↼ chapter thirteen / chapter fifteen ⇀

summary: miguel finally gives in to what you both want

explicit (18+) | 8.6k words warnings: SMUT, it's seriously just all smut, unprotected p-in-v, choking, light degradation, dirty talk, interrogation as foreplay, praise kink, mentorship with benefits, dirty talk, belly bulge, power play, bondage, dom/sub dynamics, teasing, angst, unrequited feelings, eye contact kink notes: figured i'd add in some fluff before shit gets rough

“Let me go.” Miguel growls. “Lest I change my mind about fucking you silly, you bold little thing.”

Enclasped in the yawning dark of night after twelve, you wonder how you must look to him. The lack of light, on your part, obscures his harsher lines – shadows smudging the sharp apex of his cheekbone, bleeding to his aquiline nose, where the feature dips into an ink-blot puddle with the rest of him. What you can deduce is based on what you can see; hardly anything, really, save for what’s highlighted by the window to your right. The mole by the corner of his mouth, bobbing upwards with the curl of his lips. The red, acute glint of an eye.

Are you as hidden as he is? Is his vision better adjusted to the murk?

You hope not. You pray he can’t pick apart the shock that flits across your face, the spate that washes you off your wit. It’s timidity. A stricken bashfulness you haven’t felt in a long while. Seafoam that froths and clogs the blood supplied to your lungs, draining all warmth to feed the stocks behind your cheeks. Your waterline stings, desiccated by the breeze that whistles in through the aperture left open – and out of everything that occurs to you, what manages to refine into clarity is the urge to high-tail and jump out of it as soon as possible.

Your fingers search for stability on his calf, clasping around its tense length as you clamber off him. Air syphons from you in rapid bursts – in, out, in – to sate a seemingly bottomless need for oxygen. He must be hogging it all, you reason, dismounting from his hips. Him – in all his grandeur, in all his broadness, stealing from you what precious left you can use to calm down. Everything he does feels purposeful in that way, curated with regards to both past and future, his contemplation on both. Like neglecting to mention that this was even a possibility, blindsiding you with the very thing you spend hours fantasising about.

It wouldn’t surprise you if he knew this whole time. If he had somehow read your guilty conscience as fluently as an open book, saw where your fingers gravitated to in your free time. The way he says it – filthy language dripping in promise, so unlike the clinical ways with which he’s approached this before – makes you suspect one of two things. Either he truly recognises what the prospect does to you, and is therefore employing it to petition for his release, or–

Or. He means it.

The rumble in his voice, charred and ready to snap into ashes, supports the latter. And try as you might, you can’t begin to understand it. His desire, if real, has come completely out of left field.

“Well?”

“I–” You swallow the rock lodged in your throat, patting your hips like a solution will materialise in your pockets if you pray hard enough. You can’t help but baulk at your poor planning. “I don’t have anything to undo you with.”

Miguel releases a sharp breath from his nose, tipping his chin back. You glance anywhere but at the skin stretching along the column of his throat, contoured by taut sinew.

“If you point me to the kitchen, I can get a knife?”

“No.” The dismissal comes perhaps a little too quick. He doesn’t seem to consider the possibility, and it does little for your hope. His proposition – fucking you silly – feels like it exists on condition of a time limit. Like the longer you put it off, the more opportunity he’s given to retcon his lapse of judgement. This lust born from adrenaline. You’re familiar, and therefore appreciate how short it can last. “Just let them dissolve.”

Ducking your head, you take the acquiesce to observe the artificial webbing that binds him. It sparkles under indirect moonlight, dull white and wet-like, resembling the morning dew that would bud on blades of grass. Thin slivers branch out from the main line to wrap about his more complicated curves. With a more competent solution, it would prove almost impossible to get out of. You reason that only then would you have remained proud of the handiwork.

“They will dissolve?” He stresses.

“Yea– yes! Give it fifteen minutes.” You squeak, shaking out of your stupor to see him eyeing you incredulously. “What?”

“You expect to get anything done when your webs last fifteen minutes?”

“Hey, it’s not like I’ll be regularly apprehending bad guys back home.” Offence batters you back to your regular snark, conversation swaying until it clicks back into a comfortable tone. “Besides, it’s a prototype.” You shrug, turning on your heel to wander the room you lept into. It’s a clumsy segway away from the point, awkwardness rolling off your tongue in ugly chunks. “So… this is your place huh.”

He doesn’t fall for it. “Tell me how you got in.”

“It’s nice. Big. Of course when you own the building, the penthouse is kinda yours by default.” There’s not much you can see in the dark, the colours and aesthetics of his interior remaining lost on you. But it’s hard to ignore how high the ceilings rise, or the wide sweep of his tiled floors.

“Did you phase through the door?” He attempts to reel you in.

You dodge the line. “Wish you told me you were rich though. I could’ve really milked those rewards. A dog for ten push ups. A motorcycle for a hundred.”

“I wouldn’t get you a motorcycle if you stitched the multiverse back together yourself.” It’s amusing that, out of all baits, he should bite on the most ludicrous. You throw a small smile over your shoulder, forgetting yourself for a minute.

“So a dog’s still on the table?” Yet the sight of him fettered, immobilised on the ground, forces you to face your circumstance once more. His words, those parasitic words that’ve been gnawing on the supple tissue of your brain, worm their way back to the forefront. Bold little thing. Fuck. If he knew. If you recounted for him the events of the past half-day, how you’ve been following him since lunch – would he be more or less inclined to spread you out underneath him? “I jumped through the window.” You add, tentatively, toeing unsteady grounds.

His jaw flutters, tensing, though he doesn’t give much else. You traipse over to said window, winding the casement shut with the crank at its edge. It seals smoothly, expunging the ambient street noise until the room buzzes in its own, overwhelming silence. Given the sudden contrast, you puzzle about how he forgot to close it in the first place.

“You really ought to worry about security.” You continue your blind tour of his home, skimming the wall that guides your path. It’s harder to change the subject now that it’s been spoken out loud, your confession filling the gaps left by the outside tumult. Car horns and traffic, construction and wind – all substituted with a tension that drips like a leaky faucet, adding to a pool bound to drown you.

“How’d you do it?” He asks, hoarse and hedging a more dangerous accentuation.

“Dunno.” You trace the doorway he’d come out of, letting the coated stone frame cool the pads of your fingers. “What’s in here?”

When he doesn’t answer, you take a peek. Based on the rough shapes you make out, it could be an office. Had he been working before you arrived? It’s so late you can scarcely imagine it, especially after the already packed day you observed him to have.

The thought is suffocating enough that you back away, rounding the corner of the living room instead to find yourself in a galley kitchen.

“Fancy!” You shout, echo bouncing around the cavernous space. Counters and other facilities line either side of the spacious hall, one side breaking off into an L-shape by an attached island, which functions to divide the kitchen from the dining room at its end. Floor-to-ceiling terrace doors take up the wall directly opposite you, backing the table with views of the Hudson river. It’s gorgeous enough that you think about revisiting during the day – when the sky pulses cerulean blue and the sun butters the sight with warmth, painting a picture you’ve only read about in architectural digest or seen in film.

One where the title sequence jumps to upbeat music, dancing credits cutting onto screen. The genre that calls for a place like this is doubtfully a sombre one. Perhaps a musical, then, or a comedy. Something where you’re introduced as the main character while sitting out on the balcony, cradling a mug of steaming coffee. You’re stressed about work, or the date that hasn’t texted back, but none of your issues will summit at death. Not when your next meal is always guaranteed, or a shower whenever you’re down. When this is home; not just the house, but the world itself. Clean and functional and packed with life. Slated in shades of green, of life – so different from the red and grey hues of antimatter fallout. How grateful you’d be.

But then you remember where you are, why you’re here. The reality spurs you to move again, stumbling stupidly out of the kitchen to where Miguel is likely fuming at your unwelcome exploration.

(On your way back, though, you take notice of an abandoned object by the fridge. It’s rubber, oddly moulded. Bright pink in a similar shade to Lyla’s glasses. Condensation beads and drips upon its surface, the insides certainly filled with ice, and it takes you a short bout of confusion to realise that it’s a teething toy.

When you imagined Miguel as a father, it was to a child burgeoning school-age. Now, your imagery morphs to accommodate this new information. A baby girl, no more than seven months old. One who might live with her mother given his busy schedule, but visits constantly because he would make the time for her. That is, if the toy is any indication.

You can take comfort in the fact that, if not you, someone else leads that imagined life. Someone more deserving.)

“You hanging on in there?” You call out, checking up on the man whose presence you’d temporarily forgotten. He doesn’t respond. It isn’t as worrying a development until you re-enter the living room and notice it looks bigger, emptier now. A nest of snapped webs cushion where he once lay. “Hello?”

That’s what you get for taking your eye off him. It certainly hasn’t felt like fifteen minutes – maybe ten, at best – but he’s escaped irregardless, shedding the disadvantage as you remained entirely oblivious. Trepidation blossoms like a mushroom cloud in your gut, billowing smoke and the migraine-inducing smell of petrol. He can be anywhere. Judging you from a secret alcove or on his way out, already regretting the salacity he’d resorted to. Each possibility is a shot to your flesh. You hadn’t realised how much you’d been counting on it; to be pinned down the instant he breaks free, fucked until you forget your name. And now, that’s been flipped on its head when he’s…

He’s–

Where the fuck is he?

Trailing the perimeter of the room with cautious scrutiny, you watch the ceilings, the pockets between couches in which he might be hiding. He isn’t in his office when you check, nor had he snuck up behind you into the kitchen. There are a few more doors – a laundry room, a toilet – that remain steadfast and shut. He isn’t in any, though you sense his presence as you always do. This universal force of attraction that draws you in, bound to his centre of gravity, negligent of all things physical. You track it – the direction in which your arm hairs spike, spider-sense tickling – until you reach the bottom of a spiral staircase.

“If I hadn’t made it clear before, you’re a dick!” You hope he internalises it too. The second floor to his penthouse was the first thing you’d noticed on your self-guided tour, yet ascending it felt like trespassing beyond the degree you already have. Based on the amenities you’d counted, there’s only one left that could be stationed up there. His bedroom. A space that is wholly, privately his.

And while you don’t know where you stand on Miguel’s hierarchy of interpersonal relationships, something tells you it’s not at that level.

(Then again, you’ve experienced him in deeper ways. More intimate. And now–

He’s gonna fuck you. That’s what he said, at least. And of course you have half a mind to take it with a grain of salt. Though the credulous part of you poses – a little recklessly – what the harm could be in indulging him.

In indulging yourself.)

“O’Hara.” You warn, tension gnarling in your chest. There’s only one way this’ll end for you. Anticipation makes it pretty clear. So, perhaps you bark his name rough and short for decorum’s sake. To prelude your concurrence, the foot you slot up on the first step. Then, the second – marching gradually upwards, clasping the railing all the while. It’s frigid and bites your goose bumped skin, licking up the heated flesh.

Eventually, the loft sinks below your eye line. Forehead looming slightly over the landing, you try to piece together his whereabouts. It’s no easy feat – his bedroom is trapped in the same tenebrosity as the rest of his place. You have to strain to separate hazy forms; lamps from his towering frame, a dresser and not his crouched self. Through increasing efforts, you find yourself standing in the midst of it all, the trench-parallel staircase long since abandoned for a more preferable angle.

Despite it, you can’t locate him.

Hope wheezes, deflates, shrinks until it inhabits only the pinched area between your ribs. Whatever – you whisper to yourself. It doesn’t matter, even if the gaping hole it leaves behind pulses, devastating to everything on its horizon line. He probably had something to attend to, a commitment more important than this game of yours. You won, anyway. You hadn’t been promised anything but your own satisfaction, and while that’s been long diminished, swapped with notions of his body pressed against yours, you still won. Pinned him down in a plan entirely of your own creation, counter to all odds, when all you’d been given was a corrupt method and told to make do.

That should be enough.

(A lie you have to tell yourself to dissuade from the disappointment of his lacking praise. The need itches violently within you, marring your insides with crimson dissatisfaction. It’ll be your ruin, you think)

“Have it your way.” You say. It’s a last proffer of your will, extended to ears that might not even be listening. You wait a beat, riding the anticlimactic wave, before giving up and heading towards the staircase again.

Until hands pluck your waist.

They’re big, enveloping, heavy clutch seizing the sides of your abdomen. The fabric of your shirt glues to your skin where they radiate steady warmth, and your heart chokes with how high it soars, skyrocketing to pump thundering bursts of blood. The sequence of events that follows is tumultuous, a rapid execution away from the expected, of which you have a hard time understanding yourself. You try to break it down – have to, actually, to abate the erratic flutter of your chest when all of a sudden, you find yourself shoved on a plush surface. Wrists pinned behind your back, face half-smooshed down.

In short, this is how it goes–

You’d been unobservant. Too quick after his absenteeism, your guard had lowered enough that your spider-sense had dimmed with it.

It allowed him to grab you. That much was clear the instant you felt it. Grabbed and hauled you to his bed, across which you’re currently bent. Your terrified shriek still rings in the gagged lull that follows.

So now, it’s his crotch pressing flush to your rear, closely mimicking the position you’d found yourself in that morning in his office. Relentless hold, tungsten wrought around your limbs. Hips curved over the edge, toes barely reaching the ground as the mattress bolsters you upwards. This time, though, he fits his chest to your back so he’s folded above you, mouth caressing the shell of your ear. Your temples bloat with pressure and your tongue wrings dry. On the opposite end, your panties slip over the wettening slit between your thighs. It’s erotic, delicious in the manner that makes it hard to focus on anything else.

Hot air wades through the piqued hairs on your neck when he speaks again. You jerk away from it, face shrilling like a kettle kept over flame. It’s almost impossible to shift under the heavy moor of his body on yours

“That’s how you sneak up on someone.” He whispers, nudging the locks that fall between you away with his nose. The attention is too much too fast, flaying you alive until your innards and secret mortification spill, exposed to the elements. “It’s not so good, is it? Being ignored.”

All you can do is whimper, lower half wriggling for a friction that could abate the ache waxing in your core. It drums to the rhythm of his breaths, expectantly tensing everytime his chest swells. The act is desperate, much like the worm that still cleaves your brain apart. Rumbling promises, blasphemy, about leaps of faith into your mentor’s apartment. Or revelations like being fucked silly.

His voice takes on the same quality when he presses for a reply, canting forward to eject the burden from your lungs. The hard line of his erection stamps onto your ass, roughly illustrating an example for what’s to come. “Hm?”

“N-No.” You stammer, nails grazing the calloused layer on the heel of his hand. His grip readjusts around your crossed arms, momentarily affected by the gentle brush.

“No.” And if you’d been a stranger to the nuances of his expression, you would have assumed he’s unaffected. But you’ve honed an ability to read between the complexities of Miguel O’Hara. (Majorly for self-preservation, however it’s proving useful now.) The mock is hummed in a husky, dulcet note, whipped somewhere in the back of his throat that turns the simple reiteration into a taunt. He’s teasing you.

Fuck, why is that hot? You have to be a special grade of messed up to find his derision sexy.

(You’re convinced anything could be in this moment, though. Reality warped through rose-coloured glasses; except it’s your own, debauched lens.)

“Here’s how this is going to go. Are you listening?” Words gather on your tongue like clods of parched soil, too weak to build or nurture anything. They fall, crumbling in great flakes, until you have to recourse to nodding wildly, face stuffed into his sheets. They smell like him. Softer, sure, but woven with the same cedar-spiked musk, patchouli in diluted volumes. Your pupils roll to the back of your head – and even if you could reign your senses, you can’t stop your bottom from bucking for release at the aphrodisiacal scent. He continues. “You’re going to answer every one of my questions. I want total honesty. That means don’t sell yourself short.”

The squirming must bother him. His free hand dips to your back, smoothing along its subtle arch. He applies just the correct amount of pressure to tame the feral movement of your hips.

It lingers afterwards, warning you to hasten your reaction time. You can’t manage anything other than:

“Ok–Okay…”

But he takes to it.

“Good.”

Shit. It almost feels fucking purposeful. He has to taste the potent head of your desire, the shameful state curling in your marrow. It sucks the soft tissue and imbues the calcium with diffidence instead, until all that’s left is a dependency on approval. Admiration. And he has to recognise it, because how else does he strike exactly what you search for? Good. Gruff and terse but still directed at something you’ve done that’s pleased him. Good. Planting a spot of heaven in your mind, forcing you to spend forevermore chasing a similar rapture. Your consequential whine is high-pitched and needy, muffled on the canyons of his wrinkled duvet.

His palm treks lower, kneading the plump of your ass. It threatens to permanently configure to the valleys of his fingers, the hard press pad of his thumb.

“How did you get in?” He tests. You give him the same explanation you did last, albeit broken with hoarse yearning.

“T-the wind… window.” You cock your head to the side to be better heard, but find yourself face-to-face with him. The sudden eye contact burns a straight hole through you, snapping your skull into a million little fragments. You flinch, synapses firing at you to turn away, scalded as if you’d touched a piping stove. But Miguel catches on faster than you, left hand unwinding from your arms to instead hold your head down in place. Everything is automatic. Instinctual. The both of you resort to whatever path brings the most pleasure. For him, that must mean maintaining mutual gaze. You certainly feel him, harder now, rubbing on the back of your thigh.

And you–

The second you’re released, you shoot to grab his right wrist behind you, rummaging for purchase against the determined path of his fingers. Lower, they skim the cliff where your cheeks meet. You think, if it wasn’t for your leggings keeping them together, he would’ve spread open like a packaged feast already.

But he stops. Doesn’t work to shuck off your pants, or to rip them off entirely (of which you’d be willing, maybe overly enthusiastic about.) He just…

Stops. Then, sweeps the wisps away from your hairline so your face is fully unsheathed to his scrutiny. His handle is familiar in a way that’s crept up on you – successively learnt, like resilience or courage, over the course of your tutelage. You’ve come to anticipate the dry scrape of his palm, the overwhelming warmth of it. Even so, you shiver against him, biting your lip when he asks again.

Stricter this time. “How?”

A small part of you understands what he’s digging for. The complete picture, colours mixed and painted exactly how it’d happened. Yet a haar of delirium creeps up around your memory, obscuring details you’ve no mercy to exclude. And if you could wrap your mouth around them, you wouldn’t be able to choke it out with how close he veers. His nose brushes yours and his lips fold in that tantalising way they do when he’s pushing patience. A little closer and you’d be kissing him.

You don’t, of course. Instead:

“You left it– ah!” His caress picks up again, gliding over to your inner thighs. “Open… You left it open a-and I vaulted over. F-from the hall outside.”

“And how’d you know to find me here?” He probes, tapping the firm plate of your crotch, teasing a descent to where you need him most. Encouragement, you realise. He’s rewarding your compliance in the medium that’s proved successful in the past.

That’s why, when you finally register his request, you blanch.

“I–” The truth flutters on your tongue like a cornered bug, frantically evading every attempt to pin it down for dissection. You’re reminded of the rather extreme lengths you went to to execute your plan, and its aftertaste is foul. You do the only thing you have the strength for, then. Dodge his severe stare and lie. “I guessed.”

No sooner after it exits your mouth does he call you out on it. In a cruel play on irony, he finally reaches your cunt, swirling over the clothed centre. For a blissful, naive moment, you actually believe he buys it. He can’t read your mind, after all, and your eye-contact avoidance can be misconstrued as bashfulness. It seems so when he touches you in the way you’ve been praying for, delicately tracing up and down. All’s well and good. Yeah–

And then he pinches you through the fabric.

Pinches. Gathers your puffy lips between forefinger and thumb, made simple by the thin material, and nips them together until your clit is sandwiched in the smarting hold. Your jaw unhinges for what’s either a silent moan or scream. It’s hard to infer, your body oscillating between various conditions under his command. What feels like a bruise – dull, a gradual onrush of heat that laps at your limbs like water on a sun-drenched shore – melts on your nerves. It blooms and wears down to the colour of ripe plums, deliciously tender in the way all contusions are. Press on the pain enough and you get used to it, start salivating at the thought of doing it again.

(Penance, you muse, then shake it off. This delight is no holy thing. Nothing can fool you to think you’re doing it for a greater reason than yourself.)

Your skin prickles – glitches, more like, body flickering back and forth from materiality in different sections. Its consecutive order is the only factor preventing you from falling through the bed.

Then, when Miguel eventually lets go, you find yourself wishing he’d do it again. Do more. Spank you until you relive the memory every time you sit. Come loose, like when he’d grabbed your face and fucked it within an inch of asphyxiation. You couldn’t speak for the day afterward, and for some reason, it’d please you to carry a similar mark now.

He pulls you from your thoughts by directing your gape to his, locking you onto those carmine irises once more. Vaguely, lined up at the back of your concerns, there’s the throb of your scalp as he uses your hair to steer you around. Tears smudge the bottom of your vision, blurring his already shadowed expression.

“Try again.” He mutters. A thickness accompanies it; molasses poured onto an open bonfire, popping as it hardens. You have no choice but to listen, intoxicated by his perpetual presence. It properly hits you, perhaps all too late, that this is his room. You’re being defiled on his bed, on sheets he wraps himself with every night. And they smell like him, but soon enough, they’ll smell like you too. The very concept – that you might have as much of an impact on him as he does you – could make even the strongest of spider-heroes keel.

“I followed you.” You groan, blinking through the milky glaze that spools over your lashes and douses the world in a layer of euphoria. Though he keeps your gaze on his, you’re unfocused. Delirious. “Since lunch, I’ve… I’ve been f-following you. To catch you at th– what I supposed would-d be the perfect time.”

“Why?”

You expect he knows why, has known why. That he surmised all the answers himself the moment you pinned him down to gloat your victory, and that this whole thing is just an elaborate ploy to squander your ego.

“I w–” You hiccup over the word, unable to voice it. It strikes a primal fear in you, subconsciously altered by the several instances where it went wrong. Want. Though he mouths it, hovering right over you. Want. Guides you into the house haunted by the enormity of your desire. You purse your lips around the letters; the round start and harsh end, teeth clicking before you ever make a proper sound. He circles where your pussy dampens the layers separating you, chest bearing down on your shoulder blades, forcing you to surrender your panting to his more consistent pattern.

And, as you breathe in tandem, air ultimately supplies power to the verb.

(Or, he does.)

“I wan–wanted to win.” You relent, echoing the confession when he flattens two fingers over your clit, winding it in firm circles. “I wanted to win.” Then again, over and over, coherency petering out until you’re left blabbering in splintered heaves. “I… wanind. W–” Miguel works you through it, contrasting the catharsis with a sort of gentle pleasure. Not enough to make you cum, not yet. Just peeling back petals to expose a bud in early development. Making you aware of it, of yourself.

“There we go.” Beyond the hazy realm of your current cognizance, you hear clicks coming from where his fingers rub you. You’re wet enough now that it’s soaked through your panties and leggings alike, and that’s him having barely done anything. He notices it too – or otherwise enjoys the way your clutch tenses around his wrist, humiliated – because his thumb soon wedges itself into the divet between your folds, teasing your hole. “And what do you want now?”

Why ask? Your body has been begging for it, striking fervent flashes of light, rolling between his arms as you disperse all your energy into convulsing flesh. What do you want? Everything. Everything he has to offer you – more praise, more nicknames born of success and not strife. For him to rip a hole at your crotch and slip his cock in until you’re stretched over it. A ripple of universes, each plea and possibility greater than the last. Seaweed lashes around your ankles and you find yourself tripping into the wave, skull inundating with so much seawater that all you can yell out is: “More!”

Miguel’s thumb creeps away, objecting to your answer. Too simple. Not the type he was looking for. You whine, nails digging into skin to keep his hand where it is, and drive forth.

“This! More of- of…”

His fingers follow soon after. It’s a noiseless deterrent, but an effective one nonetheless. If you didn’t catch the hint, he throws the gruff addition. “No.”

“Shit. Shit, I jus’… W-want more– Please please…” Drivelling until you can find the magic plea that’ll get him to yield. It ends up finding you; thrashing up your gut, possessing every muscle to bid a madcap decree. You squeeze your eyes shut and twist away from his face, screaming into the sheets until you can’t stall any longer. “Want you! Miguel, please! Fuck me, fuck me. Fuck…”

It doesn’t hit you when he orders you to bring your knees up and arch your back for him. Or as you crawl to the centre of the bed, thrusting your haunches up to present your ass. Not when you extend your arms in front of your bowed head, and he peels your shirt off to your wrists, twisting it so both are forced together, keeping you bound and in one position. You’re too lost in the woes of titillation – manna sliding down your gullet – to process what you said. Food to feed a thousand. Forever sustained. Godsent. The evidence of it smeared over your chin in drool, over the swollen mound of your sex as he pares off your pants. There’s no space for it as cool air hits you, or when he grabs either ass cheek and pulls them apart to inspect your readiness. No space for anything apart from the thrill blistering down your spine.

So–

No. It doesn’t hit you (for all that it should) that this is the first time you say his name out loud. Not when it feels so right. A perfect seal, trim to the edges of this molten encounter.

(Much, much later though, you’ll wake up in a cold sweat with it still flaming on your tongue. Miguel. Miguel. And when you sober up, turn the memory over in your mind, you’ll clasp your chest while it flops rebelliously, betraying the fact that – despite your mortification – you’ll want to say it again.

And again. And again.)

Given the makeshift handcuffs, there’s not much you can do besides knot your knuckles into his sheets, clinging on against heavenly ascension. There’s a shuffle, the sound of fabric rustling as his one hand remains on your rear, kneading the tacky softness of it as if to say hold on. You moan in spite of it, wiggling your hips impatiently. You’ve waited enough. Evidence to your arousal coats your inner thighs, dribbling from your clenching hole and carving a line down the already damp-with-sweat skin. He, better than even you, should be able to see that.

A hazy picture refines in your mind’s eye in the meanwhile. This scene, reimagined through his perspective. It’s tinged with the liberties of your own ignorance – the extent of your vision ending where your forehead nuzzles into his comforter – but succeeds in that it builds itself off barebone facts. Where night still rages on, dousing everything in parallel values. Navy, black, grey – broken up only by the lurid blue light that would highlight your edges, streaming from the sloped windows on your right. It’d offer a vague suggestion of your form; curves folded in a pose resembling a cat’s stretch, rounding where your glutes plummet to anchored knees. They spread obscenely wide, affording him your unobstructed cunt.

“M- Mmf, pmfeeease. J-jutht… just fuck me already, you b-bastard. Need it so bad.” You wail. The scent of patchouli that had swamped his bed has since been watered down by brine – tears and saliva that mottle your face, glossing it with a sort of wetness that has you sniffing, heaving through the suffocating layer. You’re thankful he stays crouched behind you. If he has to witness your desperation, then let it retain a modicum of attractiveness, in contrast to the pathetic display up front.

“Need it?” He taunts, tapping his cock on your clit. It’s done lightly, the heft of it controlled in his grip. Nevermind, you lapse. You wish you were laying on your back instead, neck propped on a pillow as you crane to watch the gorgeous thing sway between his legs. You haven’t seen it since you’d sucked him off. It’s always been about you; your pleasure, your satisfaction – not that you haven’t tried to return the favour. Several occasions had you reaching for the bulge in his pants, glowing in a post-orgasm high, only to get swatted away to continue whatever the two of you were working on that day.

“Shhh-Shut up! Oh my God, I–” Your temper wanes, a crack splitting its centre, threatening to expand with every hit he aims at it. His length glides between your folds now, absorbing the searing heat like he has any reason to stall further. If you’d been closer to your inhibitions, you’d think he’s hesitant to do it with you – but lust isn’t always an inebriating force. You’re honed in on other matters; the leaden heaviness he grinds on you, fully stiff and about to burst. The way it slips, up and down and back up again, veins catching on every crevice. It’s plenty of indication that he’s as far gone. “Keep t-t-teasing and I’ll… I’ll le-eave.”

“Mhm.” He huffs, but tugs on one side of your ass to pry it further apart. You don’t understand why until he repositions his tip to catch onto the brim of your hole. “I don’t think you will.”

And then he bottoms out.

In one, swift move. Wholly plunges in, groyne slamming your behind with a force that strikes the air straight from your throat. Your jaw falls open, meant for a scream that becomes a wheeze instead, energy diverting to better serve the effort of taking him in. You were under no illusion to his size, his cock searing bright in your memory. Long, thrumming, thicker than what you can wrap your hand around. But it’s almost like he’s gotten larger, somehow – nourished by your walls that squelch and suck him in deeper. The skin around your opening aches like a taut elastic, stinging with the stretch, and in a completely contradictory condition, you wish he should’ve gone slower. Allowed you the time to adapt.

As though he senses your affliction, he returns to your clit, easing things by flicking the swollen bud while he steadily draws back out. Your pussy sheathes every ridge, every vein that adorns his ample muscle, rippling until just his head plugs you shut.

“Solid?” He checks. And it’s so unlike the croons he’s used thus far, so much more like him, that it polishes you up to a clearer state. Sniffing, you count the sensations battering you from all angles. The tension headache. The pressure at your core. The undefinable pleasure buzzing from where his cock continues to stuff you.

It’s better than you could’ve imagined. Intense, yes, but in varying multitudes. None of your begging had taken that into account. You’re no virgin, yet all the people you’d slept with before had been strangers. Back then, it had seemed absurd that things could feel any different when sex sprouted from rich history. (Pleasure is pleasure.) Or more satisfying when, at each thrust, you’re preoccupied with the person behind them and not your own, selfish desires. (Because what could matter more than your next fix?)

It startles you that Miguel is the first non-stranger you’ll get to know in that way. In different ways. With every wave of pleasure, he proves your previous experiences wrong. Cups the foundations of your worldview and slips them over one another; breaks the ground and crust in magnitudes. Rolls an electric ruin on the valley of your legs.

Though, you suppose, that’s always been his role.

(Non-stranger because there isn’t any other word for what you mean to each other. Not friends. Nor lovers. Dancing the wary line between all plights, concurrently. Foolishly. One trip and you’ll find yourself barrelling down onto a term you’re not ready for.

But for now–)

For now.

You shake the tangent off and harrow out a playfulness that got lost in the mix. It flips and curls like a ribbon, bouncing around in your gut, generating the courage necessary for you to push your hips back on him. As you do, you note that it’s just as much of an adjustment the second time. Swifter, smoother now that he’s lubed with your natural slick, but he bulges thicker midway, and it takes force to push past that on your own. Once you manage though, your eager cunt engulfs the rest with ease, seating you on the base. You make sure he has no room to pull out, wiggling onto his crotch until he’s nestled right against your cervix.

Dragging your arms back until you’re situated on your elbows, your neck twists to the side, a wry smile winding across your cheeks. His eyes are closed, fluttering, grappling with your tight clutch. You speak anyway. “You plan on warming your dick forever? Or are you gonna fu–ungh.”

He’s quick. You’re barely able to perceive the furrowing of his brows before he dives to wrap his arms around your midriff. Chest slotting neatly onto your back, hand grinding onto your lower belly, feeling for where his cock dents as he snaps his pelvis back and thrusts into you. Or– doesn’t thrust so much as he manhandles, slamming you back and forth onto the ample breadth. Brutally done, rough in all the right ways. It spurs him, you realise. This back and forth. Snatching the power from him like a bone from a dog, throwing it out for him to fetch. It makes it all the more rewarding, perhaps, when you bend and break and become the dog yourself, snarling under his heavy pet. He’d take greater satisfaction that way, boiling you down to a keening mess.

Which he does, in record time. Nose mashing onto your shoulder blade and fangs extended to skim the flesh there. He kneads your clit and targets a very specific part of you – that patch of spongy tissue on the flipside of your mound – pounding until it memorises the mushroomed shape of his tip. It should hurt. The sounds spilling from you are those of a wounded animal, snivelling like every inhale is your last. The expanse where your bodies meet should rub abrasively, but you’re both sweaty enough that it’s a frictionless process. And you’re both sweaty – both, because he’s affected by this too. Up from his pelvis, to his palms, to his pecs. Bare pecs.

He’s shirtless.

You don’t know how you missed it. Like a shot of espresso as warm as the naked muscle that cradles you; he’s shirtless. Your moans escalate, cranking to a higher octave. They fluctuate, thumping in your lungs to the sharp beat of his pumps. There was no reason for him to strip. Your shirt was used to keep your wrists fastened, and your bra still cups each breast. Your nudity is a given, as it’s always been, but there could be no purpose behind his. Not if what you assumed is true, about power play and how it turns him on. If anything, this only knocks him down to an equal peg. You’re on level ground.

Not that you’re complaining, of course. As it stands, you can feel every part of him. His body is a furnace, rolling coals onto your own, enveloping you all around. Forearm barring your tits, pure brawn keeping you from peeling your frame off his. Abs grate across your back, happy trail chafing the small of it, the vale running along the centre. He noses your shoulder, doesn’t kiss. Just runs his chin and teeth along the curve of it, groaning inaudible phrases in both English and Spanish, of which you strain to pick up on. You want to hear it. To be closer, to be privy to what he has to say about you. About this. To crack open his mind and pick his complicated psyche for the tasting.

And–

And maybe he wants that, too. Maybe he took his top off to feel closer in the most material sense. You won’t fool yourself into thinking he holds similar admiration, but your body has gained definition in the past weeks. Physically, you’re more spider-hero than you’ve ever been. It wouldn’t surprise you if that’s what’s got him going. The fruits of his labour. Your progress. With the way he takes in your form, all the questions, his demeanour cleans up to seem vaguely… proud.

Proud.

Is that it? Did he ask you to recount your achievements because he’s pleased with you? Don’t sell yourself short. That’s what he said when forwarding his interrogation. It would make sense – for all that it settles at the forefront of your brain, refusing to dissolve.

But God, you think, it doesn’t even need to be true. The mere notion lights your nerves until they whistle like soaring fireworks. You watch as pyrotechnics burst behind your eyes, lashes drooping with tears, jaw strained as you clench your teeth. Miguel fucks in short, hard pegs, forgoing pulling out all the way to instead beat your g-spot in rapid succession. His breath bursts hot and heavy, lips – those perfect, full lips – pressed to the shell of your ear. He’s stroking your sore clit with three fingers now.

“Ay, mierda. Shit.” He curses. “I-Is this it, huh? Is this what… all I had to do to shut you up, you needy little thing? A good fucking. Just a little attention and you-you’re happy.”

“Nnnngh. M-Mi… Puh-ple–”

“No. I want to hear it.” He squishes your cheeks together, squeezing with one large hand. When you try to speak again, your words come out slurred. “Use your words.” The grip guides your head back until you can catch his gaze in your peripheral. He’s already looking at you.

“G-Gon…”

“Hm.”

“C-cuuuu… mmuh uh uh–”

“All together now.” He picks up pace, practically battering your insides. It’s enough to threaten your enhanced healing, bruising your walls at a quicker rate than it can work. You’ll hurt in the morning, you’re sure.

(At least, you hope you do.)

“Gon’ugh cum. Gonna– Mig… Please.”

Your spine goes rigid. Blood rushes to your head.

“Do it, then. Go on. Fuck.” His middle and forefinger push past your mouth, hooking behind your teeth to hold it open. “Cum. Cum on my cock, p-pretty.”

The world burns white-hot and bright. You can’t see, can hardly feel him anymore. Just that word, branded onto your skull where it’ll stay forevermore. Pretty. He thinks you’re pretty; or is otherwise too wrapped up in the moment to dispute the intrusive conviction. It should be concerning that you don’t care either way. That, in any reality, it still bestrews a kaleidoscope of butterflies in your gut. Your insides flutter with them, frantic and galvanised at the deluge of dopamine, flooding through every synapse until everything, everything, becomes about the high.

Your orgasm finds you a ragdoll in his arms. Bones liquid, riding the wave that continues to scroll over. He doesn’t stop jackhammering into your spent pussy, still seeking his and draining you of all the evidence of your devastation in the process. You’ve no doubt soaked his lap. That’s if the noises are any indication, downright sloppy from where you’re attached. Schlicks and slaps and low grunts that tell you he’s close.

Before that happens, though, you’re flipped over on your back. He holds your legs together and pushes them high so your ankles sway mid-air. You’re tighter like this – something even you can feel when he re-enters you, cock cleaving you apart. Another, weaker orgasm pulses in your core. You’ve no energy to voice it, let alone moan. It’s all you can do to take him in. The striking sight he’s allowed you access to.

Not as bronzed in this lighting, but fit just the same. Grainy shadows stretch around the canyons formed by sinew, delineating the anatomy of his torso as though it senses your ogling. He’s huge. Bigger, brawnier when not constricted in a tight top. With arms that curve and cut perfectly into his broad chest, bridged by shoulders that seem to have a life of their own. They provide a golden ratio to the trim angle of his waist, partially hidden behind your thighs.

A curl falls over his forehead. It’s heavy with sweat. His palm crushes into your flesh.

“Inside.” You croak, exercising the title that started this all. Bold.

“No me haga eso.” He shakes his head, pinching his eyes shut. “I–”

“Y-You sca…scared?”

“Fuck– Fuck!”

It’s misleading. You’d think – with how his voice breaks, winded and tight – that he’s about to accede. Burst and pipe you full of his seed. But he pulls out, dropping your legs to scramble on top of them. A trade off, you reason. It’s hard to rue with disappointment when his cock finally makes an appearance, fat and heavy in his hand. Your palate immediately salivates with the thought of sucking him clean after this is all over, putting your talents to good use. Maybe, if you do good, he’ll soften enough to call you pretty once more.

That’s getting ahead of yourself, though.

Miguel cups your neck, pinching either side to cut your oxygen supply. Your vision dots with stars – black holes and supernovas, dying suns blazing on your eyelids. It’s the combination of everything; the victory, the suffocation, the weight and magnitude of his presence. The sheets you lay on, the room you occupy, the heights you leapt across. They weave to create a shroud that slowly descends on your consciousness.

You don’t pass out, but you’re barely lucid when he spurts out onto your stomach. Dense, searing fluid coats your skin, pooling into your belly button and reaching the ravine between your breasts.

“I’m–” Voice hoarse, you cough to rid of its scratch. “You c-coulda done, y’know. I can’t… The spider radiation–”

“I know.” He says, then scoops some cum onto his finger. You automatically open your mouth when he reaches over to smear it on your tongue. “Good.”

It’s a peculiar scar, you dwell. Buttressed on his deltoid. Geometrically circular in a way vaccine marks aren’t, with marks like teeth equidistant around its circumference. Blinking heavily, you try to deduce its origins on his otherwise unmarred body, only to give up as you draw blanks, unable to think at all. Sleep looms, a heady fog lurching up your neck.

Miguel sits, picking apart the complicated knots of your shirt. It still circles your arms, looser with his effort thus far. When you flick your study over to his worn face, you find that his attention is centred onto your own blemish. Situated above your wrist – four discoloured punctures in the same size of his claws.

“If you think that’s bad, you should’ve seen the other guy.” You quip, smiling minutely. The man just shakes his head, pretending to reoccupy himself with his self-assigned task.

What do you say in this situation? When you can’t separate guilt from the fraught expression he dons. It’s not okay that it happened. It’s not fair that you have to bear that memory for the rest of your life. But… you don’t mind. Your self-respect is nonexistent and you don’t mind the fact that he’d resorted to whatever he could when desperate. You've done the same. Worse, even.

You’re about to speak up when a crackle on your left fills the silence for you. A radio he keeps on his bedside shelf, to connect him to all emergency personnel, blares a hurried alert.

“Possible superhuman event. Downtown city hall. Suspect is–”

He sighs, rising to a stand to shut it off. Your shirt slips off your limbs.

“It’s late.” You pose before you can stop yourself. The protest is instinctual – even you don’t know where you’re going with it – and no sooner does it leave your mouth do you cringe. It’s too big now to stuff back into your throat, spoken out loud and stupid. You’re free now, aren’t you? Unbound, literally. There’s no reason to stick around.

“So?” Miguel calls you out on it.

“You– um. Just, good luck.” Is all you come up with, curling into a foetus position to dissuade the embarrassment blooming behind your ribs. Now that his body isn’t on top of yours, his room seems that much colder.

“You’re right.” His briefs slide back up his legs, fitting snug around burly thighs and snapping low on his hips. “It’s late. You can sleep here tonight. I have to go deal with–” He gives a vague gesture to your left, referring to the dispatch call.

“Right.”

He offers nothing else, oscillating between attached rooms in the quiet that follows. A bathroom and closet, you assume; confirmed when he walks out in full spider garb. The sight of his suit knocks you back into place. The fact that it’s more familiar than the bare skin you were only just getting used to is a sobering enough fact.

And you watch as he moves to leave, shucking a window frame open to allow him access to Nueva York’s skyline. Perhaps it’s his back – turned to face you, at a guarded distance once more – that spurs you to ask. A distressed attempt for any tenderness he might have left.

(That wounded animal, raking for solace before death.)

“You opened it, didn’t you?” You ask, pitching the suspicion you’ve been ruminating over for a while.

He stops, turns his head to indicate he’s listening.

“You opened the window. You knew I’d been following.”

You wish the mask didn’t obstruct his reaction. What a small blink, or smile, could do to dissuade the charged pace of your heart. Eventually, though, he nods.

“Why?”

And there’s really one answer you’re hoping to hear. A comfort, along the lines of for you. But Miguel is funny in that way. Sometimes – as seen by the cum that glazes your abdomen, or the soreness between your legs – he gives you what you want. Readily. Seems to want the same thing too, if you’re lucky enough.

And then, there the other times.

“To see what you would do.”

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taintedcigs · 1 year ago

Text

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER THREE: I’LL SWIM DOWN, WOULD YOU?

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✦ summary: in which eddie takes you for a trip down memory lane. (wc: 6.7k+)

✦ warnings — ANGSTANGSTANGST, fluff!, pining and slowburn, strong language!, mentions of alc*hol and drg use and a toxic/ab*sive relationship, reader is sad but also mad </3, mention of bruises from an ab*sive relationship (in the past)

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

✦ authors note — im so glad you guys are liking this series !! feel free to chat with me in the asks and sorry for the cliffhanger >:( also not proof-read pls ignore mistakes!! and sorry for the twisted sister slander eddie said it not me!

series masterlist | series playlist

It was late, really fucking late. Something you missed noticing while you were taking your supposed one hour sobbing nap.

Your gaze gravitated toward the window, fingers fluttering to adjust the comfortable, frilly black dress you had casually slipped into moments earlier. But now, it made you feel stupid, like you were trying too hard, your mind was telling you that no matter which pretty dress you chose, he’d never want you.

He wanted her now.

Your attention diverted toward the glove compartment, fighting the urge to yank it open, wishing those The Cure tapes could fall on your lap now.

The uncomfortable silence between the two of you was starting to sink in now, accompanied by the Beastie Boys blasting through Eddie’s speakers. And you knew he was doing it on purpose because he knew you couldn’t resist, automatically making you hum along to it while he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel, the two of you perfectly in sync with the beat, and it shouldn’t bring such a silly smile to your face, but it does.

“So, uh…” He started off, eyes still on the road, he couldn’t afford to look at you, you looked breathtakingly pretty; the soft glow of the dashboard light highlighted your features, and with that goddamn black dress on you, Eddie was sure he was fully enamored by you.

“I’m–I’m sorry about the whole Chrissy thing,” He muttered, gaze avoiding yours. “It just kind of happened, but–she changed, she really changed.”

“She–she told me how sorry she was about the whole Billy thing,” You gulped physically at the name, biting your lips nervously.

It didn’t fucking matter how sorry she was now, Chrissy was supposed to be your friend. You already had a hard time trusting people but you gave Chrissy that chance, you opened your heart to her, and you let her in, but she decided to stomp on it and chewed your trust in the cruelest way possible.

“I would’ve never talked to her if she hadn’t.” He avoided your gaze again.

“Cool… and you gathered that in what? A week?” You muttered angrily.

Eddie fell silent at that, he didn’t know what to say next, he knew he was in the wrong, and he was desperate to fix it now.

“No, no I– just,” he sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this, Eddie,” you snapped, head turning towards the view of the window, lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line in an attempt to hold the words you wanted to say.

You’re jealous—so incredibly jealous that it seeps through your skin. You wonder if he can tell, if he can see through you like he always did.

“We’re not together,” He muttered embarrassedly. Chrissy seemed nice, but Eddie knew that she wasn’t you. Sure, Chrissy was pretty, but her face couldn’t make the gloomiest person in the world grin like yours did. And she was funny, but she could never make him nearly choke on his drink the way you always did. And he knew she could never, ever make him feel in a way you did.

He was acutely aware of how awful that sounded, but he wasn’t trying to use her in any way; he was just trying to move on, but with you here, it was fucking impossible. You would always be his priority. No matter what happened between the two of you, if you even so much as glanced his way, he'd drop everything and come running. And that’s what scared him, that’s what made him act so unlike him toward you today because it was terrifying how much he truly wanted you.

You glared at him now, a second warning to shut him up, and he was quick to press his lips tight together.

He huffed. “Look, how about we just… start over?” You finally plucked up the courage to face him again. With the warm breeze of summer nights in Hawkins having its full effect as it rustled through the open car windows, you could see his hopeful eyes.

“Let’s just put it all behind us, you know… wipe the slate clean.” Your interest peaked with that; both of you had fucked up already, and if there was any way to survive the next five days with him and not be a burden to both Jonathan and Nancy, this was the perfect solution.

“Because I really don’t want us to have this weirdness over this whole wedding weekend- uhh… five day thing.” Shit. Was he actually reading your mind?

“Me neither.” You agreed in a mumble.

“Yeah?” Eddie asked with that pretty grin stuck on his lips. God, it was infectious, and his hopeful question fluttered your heart, you could feel yourself soften. Maybe this could work.

“So, uh- can we be… civil?” His voice was wavering, visibly nervous.

You could put the whole Chrissy thing behind you for now, couldn’t you? At least until your next inevitable encounter with her. Maybe that was selfish, but you wanted to spend time with him; you wanted him all for yourself, just for a few hours, without any third person meddling their way in, so you nodded furiously.

“Friends?” He offered, his hand extending to shake yours.

And even though that word fucking hurt, that’s all you could afford with him, too. You didn’t want to reopen the old wounds, at least not yet, and you were more than ready to settle for being friends with him for now. If it meant you could talk to him or be near him, you would do anything.

“Friends.” You agreed, hand harshly shaking his as you squinted your eyes jokingly.

“They talked some sense into you, didn’t they?” You squinted.

“Nancy?” You asked with a slight smirk.

“Dustin and Jonathan, actually.”

“Dustin told me I was in the wrong with the whole Chrissy thing,” Eddie muttered as he stole a glance at you before he focused on the road again. You fought hard to shrug off the smug smile on your lips; just the image of both Dustin and Jonathan telling Eddie off filled you with glee. “I swear that little shit is more mature than any of us.” You added.

“Don’t I know it?” He breathed, making you giggle.

“So, where exactly are we headed to? Because I’m tired of seeing trees everywhere, and I’m starting to think you’re going to kidnap me.” You muttered with a narrowed gaze, attempting to ease the tension.

“You can’t tell?” He huffed, a little smile tugging at his lips at your joke.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You’re getting rusty, sweetheart.” You scoffed at that, eyeing the road quickly so you could tell him off.

Once he passed by Mirkwood, you knew exactly where he was headed. A squeal escaped your lips childishly. “Oh my god!”

The community pool.

The two of you had snuck in at least a hundred times before. Even Chief Hopper had gotten tired of dragging both of your drunk asses off the pool.

He couldn’t help the way his lips fully etched into a grin now, he had missed that genuine smile on your face and that childish squeal.

“Eddie!” You squealed again when he finally neared, mouth stood agape.

“Are we going in?” You asked excitedly. It was boggling your mind how quickly he melted your defenses.

Before letting him nod, you spoke up again. “Ahh, shit! If I had known, I’d put on a bathing suit,” you huffed, causing Eddie to snort lightly.

Your eyes drifted toward his features now; he looked… so happy, and that goddamn grin on his lips—why did he have to be so pretty?

“What?” You muttered, feeling almost shy under his gaze now.

He used to look at you like that a lot, like you meant something to him, like you were the most important thing in his life. And it felt so good to have that back, to see those deep brown eyes glimmer again.

There was another deep pause, as if he were debating whether or not he should let you know how much it truly meant that you were here. How much he had missed you. How much he missed that graceful curve of your lips as it stretched to a sugary smile, missed the way your eyes sparkled childishly when something excited you.

“Nothing… uh- I just... I’m glad that-uhh you’re back,” he muttered, shaking his head, a strand of curly hair falling on his forehead.

He wanted nothing more than to feel just a graze of your touch, he had wanted to wrap his arms around your frame the whole day; he wanted you to sweep his curls off his forehead as you threw him a giggle, that angelic sound filling the space.

And oh, how he missed your presence. He missed the way you filled the space around him, filling him with warmth and making him feel alive. But his thoughts remained unspoken; instead, he settled for a simple, “I missed you.”

He held your gaze, tracing the contours of your face and memorizing every feature; he wanted each and every part of you etched into his brain, just because he didn’t know if you would leave again; he couldn’t handle forgetting your features, not again.

“I missed you, too,” you murmured, voice low when you could barely let the words out. There was a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability he only showed through it, and you returned it.

That impalpable silence was interrupted as he shook his head. “Let’s go, before you start getting in your head about getting in the pool with your clothes,” he teased, parking the car before he rushed off to your side.

“M’lady,” He bowed dramatically when he opened the door for you, extending his hand, you took it with a giggle. “Such a gentleman!” You exclaimed, hands shaky when his grazed against yours.

If Nancy and Jonathan could see the two of you now, their heads would probably explode, considering how both of you had been fluctuating between hot and cold the entire day.

“How are we even gonna get in?” You asked with a shrug, trying to keep up with him.

He looked at you like he took offense to your question. “The old way, duh.” He shrugged carelessly, before he led the way.

As you approached the silver metal fence, your heart skipped a beat, it had been so long since you had last done this, and when it loomed before you now, you had to physically gulp. “You scared or somethin’?” Eddie whispered in your ear with a sly grin, making you slightly jump. “N-no,” You muttered.

"Then, do you wanna do the honors, sweetheart?” He asked with a wink, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes. With a deep inhale you nodded, placing your hands on the cold, textured metal of the fence. Once you fully braced yourself, Eddie hoisted you with a strong push, you probably would’ve been more anxious if you weren’t distracted by the fact that Eddie’s calloused hands were grazing against your waist.

You cursed at the loss of touch when you made it to the top, and with a disappointed sigh, you swung your leg over the fence, carefully climbing down to the other side.

You watched him almost jump over it with no hesitation, and now you were concerned with how much this had turned you on. Shit, shit, shit. Why did he have to be so fucking attractive in everything he did?

“Jesus Christ, you’d think they would’ve made this more secure by now,” you muttered with a giggle in an attempt to shut up your dirty thoughts about him, hands stretching out to dust your dress off before you followed him toward the pool.

The poolside area was the first thing that caught your attention. Maybe it was the stupid deja-vu but you couldn’t help but be intrigued by everything. The pool lights created a cool ambiance that was kissed by the moonlight cascading on them. Each ripple of the water’s surface carried around the awful scent of sunscreen and chlorine; each sight of this goddamn place took you down memory lane.

“You want one?” Eddie’s voice caught your attention when he plopped into an empty lounge chair, his hand fishing out a poorly rolled joint—which was probably just squished from being in his pocket all day.

You nodded, mind still spiraling from the fact that you were here, with him. “Our spot, remember?” He muttered, hand signaling toward his side so you could sit down next to him.

You hummed in agreement, before you shyly sat down next to him. “Here, let me.” You muttered, pulling the dragon lighter from the pocket of your jacket.

His eyes almost widened again at the sight of that lighter, a tense silence overtook the space while you helped him light the joint sitting on his lips. “Uhh, t-thanks,” He muttered awkwardly.

The two of you basked in that uncomfortable silence before Eddie finally turned toward you. “Is it just me or does this feel fuckin’ awkward again?” He took another long drag from the joint, breathing out before he turned to pass it to you, a nervous look crossing his features.

And it makes you feel comfortable, that nervous breath you were holding in for so long finally slips out. “Thank god, because I thought I was goin’ crazy,” You murmured, happily accepting the joint as you placed it on your lips.

“I-I just… I know a lot of shit happened between us, and I know we can’t fully pretend it never happened, but, this… this feels so nice.” You admit, gaze avoiding him.

“It’s like, we used to have so much fun, we could do all this crazy shit and not give a single fuck. Do you even remember how many times Hopper escorted us out of here?” You asked with a slight smirk.

Eddie bit back on his tongue, he wanted to tell you that it was your fault. Wanted to remind you that the two of you could have been having fun all this time if you hadn’t just left him like that.

But a clean slate is what he promised you, even though it was so fucking hard not to be bitter when he knew how much it hurt, because you had no clue how much you leaving him did a number on him. He had to pick on his own wounds, just so he wouldn’t reopen yours, just so you would talk to him again.

He shook his head with a slight chuckle. “He really hated us, didn’t he?”

“Oh, totally,” You muttered, head falling more toward his direction with a giggle. “Do you remember that time he chased us around here?” You almost gasped at the memory.

“Shit!” He joined in on your laughter; his eyes met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. “How could I fucking forget?” He coughed out the drag he was holding in.

"His stupid hat fell in the water," He recalled with a mischievous glint in his eyes, you giggled again leaning in closer, shoulders brushed against his, and both of your chuckles intertwined now. Once you finally caught your breath, you spoke up again "and he tried to get it. And then, oh my god..." You paused for dramatic effect, biting your lip to hold back more laughter.

"He slipped," he continued, with another chuckle, "face first into the pool!" Your laughter erupted louder as the memory replayed in your minds. And it felt so nice to have that genuine bond again. It gave you this sort of hope that whatever the two of you had, maybe it could withstand you leaving him; maybe it could withstand Chrissy, and the time and distance spent apart.

And you so wanted to believe it, because this had genuinely been the happiest the two of you had ever been in the last five years.

Once both of your laughter died off, you took a deep breath, hand reaching out for the joint as you tapped on his fingers to pass it to you. You sucked on it until it numbed your mind, causing you to break the comfortable silence with your train of thought. “I still can’t believe they are getting married,” You breathed.

“Hmmm?” Eddie responded carelessly.

"I mean, I know they're literally like soulmates," you continued, "and I always knew they'd eventually get married. But isn't it too soon? Aren't we still too young for all of this?"

Eddie turned his gaze toward you, looking at you with his brows pinched together. "Why wait?" He asked, curiosity took over his features as he studied your face.

“If you have met the ‘love of your life’ and all that bullshit, and you knew you’d want to spend the rest of your life with them…” You shifted your position, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at him more closely. “Wouldn’t you want to do that as soon as possible?”

You considered his words for a moment before you spoke. “But how could anyone be… sure?” A hint of uncertainty was wavering in your tone.

“What if they wake up one day and decide they're not in love anymore? Or they suddenly want completely different things in life? Or, oh god, what if they betray each other?"

His brows pinched together. “Oh, Pinky…” He shook his head.

“What?” You asked, your voice laced with curiosity.

“You still do that?” Eddie asked disapprovingly.

“Do what?” You retorted, sounding slightly defensive.

“You don’t trust anyone or anything, just so you don't get hurt,” he muttered.

“You nitpick every single part of something good... always trying to sabotage it because you’d rather ruin it than lose it,” Eddie explained with a concerned look on his face, and you hated it. You hated that he knew you so well, that he knew you by heart.

“I do not do that!” You protested.

“Are you actually gonna tell me you never did that?” He gently prodded, tilting his head slightly as he regarded you with an all-knowing look.

You hesitated, your defenses crumbling just a bit. “Okay, maybe like one time, Munson,” you admitted with a reluctant squint of your eyes.

“You’re so afraid of losing something you love that you refuse to love anything,” He muttered, not realizing his concern had hit a nerve.

“But it doesn’t work like that. Love is not supposed to be that complicated.” He continued with a whisper, your gaze drifting away as you fiddled with your fingers, because he was right.

“Why do you assume being loved by someone would ever be so hard?” Eddie realized he had truly hit a nerve and immediately regretted it. He could see the pain flash in your eyes—that familiar hurt you carried with you. You shook it off—a defense mechanism you had perfected over the years.

You found it too difficult to believe that someone could ever truly love you. And he knew that; he hated that he couldn’t tell you how much he loved every fucking part of you and how much he loved you for being you. You didn’t need to try for him; you didn’t need to do anything. You could just exist, and he’d still love you. But he couldn’t tell you that, not when you had left him.

And he knew he couldn’t apologize for his words because you’d just brush it off, you’d just close off on him more and more, and he didn’t want to ruin this in any way.

Desperate to shift the mood, Eddie changed the subject, opting for a game of questions just so he could distract you. By the time the two of you had started passing around the second joint and had gotten over thousands of questions, you were seated near the pool now, knees grazing each other as your feet dangled into the water.

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you initiated the next question, “Favorite color?” You asked with a soft giggle.

Eddie responded with a playful tilt of his head, "That has to be the lamest question, ever," he quipped.

You gasped animatedly, pretending to be offended by his comment. "Oh, really?"

"Well then, Munson, do you have a better one up your sleeve?" Your eyes squinted in a playful challenge.

Eddie, puffed out his cheeks as he wrestled with his thoughts to come up with a question. After a moment, a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. “I’ve got one,” He muttered playfully.

“Saddest song you’ve ever heard?” Eddie inquired.

You let out a groan of mock exasperation, your shoulders slumping dramatically. "Oh, come on! How am I supposed to answer that?"

Eddie leaned back casually on his elbows. "Well, I already have mine," he shrugged.

“Really?” You huffed, “I need like an hour,” You muttered, causing Eddie to give you a look.

“Okay, fine, fine!” You sighed audibly, racking your brain.

“Oh, oh!” You shot up quickly, splashing your feet in the water, when you finally thought of something, “can I name two?” Eddie raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Two? Now you've got my attention, princess." He winked teasingly.

You leaned back on your elbows. "Uhhh… Here Comes a Regular or… Wango Tango."

Eddie couldn't help but snort at the unexpected combination. "What?" he chuckled. “I can understand Here Comes a Regular, but Wango Tango? Really?” He gave you that puzzled look again.

“Okay, okay, before you judge!” You squinted your eyes. “Hear me out, because it has a story.” You said.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this,” you admitted, noticing Eddie's raised eyebrows and intensified curiosity.

“What? Why?” He questioned. “Because I never told you about this before, and I feel like it’s just gonna drag our mood down,” you murmured, biting your lip nervously, as Eddie’s eagerness peaked further.

“Are you kidding? You absolutely have to tell me now!” Eddie demanded softly.

“I mean, are you sure? It’s just a stupid story, and I don’t even know if it matters now—” You began to waver, failing to notice the intensity of Eddie's interest.

“Pinky, please.” He interrupted with a tilt of his head, his voice filled with an urgency to know. You nodded hesitantly.

"So, uhh, you remember how he used to uhh- drove me and Max to school every week?" He nodded, his muscles tensing as he understood who you were referring to. “I think it was another tough week for him, and we had already been fighting a lot," you began, tone laced with a hint of exasperation.

"I think that’s why he was on the edge again, like he was ready to explode at any moment," you continued, gaze avoiding him and fixed on the shimmering water of the pool. "W-we were in the car, and you- you were driving like two cars in front of us.” Your eyes squinted as you recalled the details animatedly, and Eddie listened curiously, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of emotions.

“I think that like ticked him off or somethin’.” You shrugged, your voice wavering. “He started going on and on about you and he was already mad about us hanging out too much,” you stuttered and Eddie's jaw clenched as he listened, his eyes flashing with anger on your behalf.

“He threw me a look that I knew was nothing but trouble," you huffed with an ironic chuckle, but Eddie's expression remained stern, and you were starting to realize how dumb of a decision telling this story was, but it was too late now.

“So then he, uhh- he started laughing all weirdly and following you, and I could just feel my blood boil, you know?” You went on, your eyes narrowing at the memory.

"I was telling him to stop, uhh, repeatedly, but he just… he just ignored me and sang that stupid song, tapping along to the rhythm.” Your lips curled with disgust at the thought.

“And oh god, Max just sunk into her seat, and that just made me go absolutely insane, Eddie!”

“He was getting so close to you, like so close. And I-I knew you had no clue because I knew how loud you liked listening to your music in Aurora,” you muttered with a chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood, but Eddie didn’t focus on your joke; he could feel his insides burning with that familiar rage and the need to protect you.

“I don’t- I don’t even know what came over me, and I-I just drove the car off the road." You breathed. “And I know that’s… that’s horrible because Max was there too but I had no other idea and I was scared,” you admitted, biting your lips to hold all of your emotions inside of you as you took a deep breath.

“And I wanted to keep you safe,” you murmured, and Eddie’s heart almost stopped at that. The guilt of you being hurt because of him weighed in on him now. And he wanted nothing more than to go back in time and beat the shit out of that douchebag, again.

“And I just remember that look on Max’s face… that pure terror, and while all of that was happening… fucking Wango Tango was playing.” You couldn’t help the exasperated chuckle that left your lips.

You finally looked up at Eddie again, realizing how much you had unloaded on him. "What?" he asked, dumbfounded.

“H-he did what?” He stuttered in fury; you could see it in the way he scrunched his brows together.

“Shit… I don’t know what I was thinking; I really shouldn’t have told you this when we were having a good time-” You shook your head, sighing. “I just… right before I left Nancy’s, I-I saw that Camaro and that song has been stuck in my mind and it’s the first thing I could think of." You rambled quickly; you had never opened up this much about Billy before, and you were starting to regret it because you didn’t want him to pity you.

“God, I must sound so annoying but I swear I’m not saying any of this to make you pity me or anything-”

“No, no, that’s not it.” He interrupted with a shake of his head. “I would never think that, are you kidding?” His hand sat on your knee for reassurance.

“No… no, I just wish... Why didn’t you just tell me?” He spoke to you in a gentle tone, but you could see his jaw clench.

“I-I don’t know, I was scared, Eddie, and I didn’t want to drag you into my bullshit,” You murmured, gulping when you looked down at his fingertips gently caressing your skin. Your emotions were all over the place, his one touch just calmed you down, all of your worries vanishing in mere seconds.

“Are you kidding?” He asked softly. “I-If I had known, I would’ve done something a lot sooner, Pinky, I used to think he was just a shitty boyfriend, If I had known how he was-I swear, I swear, I would’ve never let him hurt you.” His voice was desperate as he leaned in closer, gaze never leaving yours.

“I should’ve fuckin’ known,” he mumbled under his breath, he wanted to punch himself for not seeing it quicker, not seeing him sucking the light out of you, the way you flinched around him, and, oh god, the random bruises.

He was stupid. So fucking stupid.

“Don’t say that!” You protested. “I was the one who kept it a secret, it’s not your fault, in any way,” you muttered, your thigh grazing against his.

“Eddie, you quite literally saved me,” you whispered, a graceful smile adorning your lips.

His eyes drifted toward you again, gaze locking with yours.

“Look, I don’t give a shit what happens between us, you can always, always tell me anything, okay? Any fucking thing.” Eddie reassured, with a soft tone.

You nodded, the smile that formed on your face was genuine, you really appreciated each of his words. Whatever happened between the two of you didn’t matter—Chrissy, you leaving him in LA, the fight at Nancy's—none of it fucking mattered. Eddie was still here for you, and you were going to do everything you could to make sure you wouldn’t lose him ever again.

"Anything?" you asked, seeking confirmation. Eddie didn't hesitate. He nodded in affirmation, his gaze soft and unwavering. "Anything."

“Oh, good! Because I’ve been dying to let you know how much of a dork you look like in your own band’s shirt,” you said with a slight smirk playing on your face.

Eddie raised his brows gleefully, and a grin overtook his features once again. "Oh, I'm so getting you for that one," he muttered, his fingers quick to graze against your sides. Once you realized what he was up to, you tried to get away, but it was too late.

He started tickling you relentlessly while you squirmed and wriggled under his touch, trying to catch your breath between giggles.

"Okay, wait—stop, stop!" You managed to speak, your voice coming out in gasps as you pleaded for a momentary break. Eddie finally relented, his fingers retreating as you caught your breath.

"You still haven't told me yours!" you exclaimed between your chuckles, trying to catch your breath and eager to distract him from tickling you again.

“Ahh shit,” he muttered with a chuckle. “Now I really don’t want to tell you mine, because it’s gonna sound so petty and childish.”

“Nuh-uh!” You protested. “You absolutely have to after all the shit I told you!” You encouraged.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Leader of the Pack by Twisted Sisters,” he huffed, his face souring.

“What? Why?” You asked with a baffled look.

“Because, I waited for that album for two years, and the moment I listened to that song, I wanted to die.” His hand daggered through his chest dramatically, making you huff.

“A bit dramatic, don't you think?” Your brows pinched together playfully.

“No, I'm serious Pinky. That album was pure garbage, I swear I got teary over it.” You giggled slightly.

“No, but I love that!” you exclaimed, your eyes lighting up immediately.

“Love what? That awful song?” He asked with a scoff.

“No, you dumbass,” you huffed, rolling your eyes dramatically at him.

“I love that a record can make you feel so many different emotions, you know?” you mused. “Anyone can listen to it, and they can have so many different stories, it’s super fascinating to me.”

Your gaze shifted toward the pool’s rippling water. “That’s one of the things I love about working in a record shop—people have so many different stories and feelings regarding music and it’s just..." You muttered. “I don’t know I think it’s great that just one thing can make everyone feel something different, it’s like a secret language that speaks uniquely to everyone, you know?”

Eddie nodded, leaning closer to you now. “That is kinda… inspiring,” Eddie hummed as he pondered for a minute, and that piqued your curiosity. “Hold on a second,” he said, holding up a finger as you watched him reach into his pocket.

A worn notebook was sprawled on his lap, and once you leaned closer, you realized it was the ‘promise’ notebook. Your eyes widened as you tried to catch a glimpse of what he was scribbling inside. "What are you doing?" you asked, a mischievous giggle escaping your lips, but he playfully blocked your view.

"That's going in the notebook!" he exclaimed, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

“Nuh-uh,” you disapproved. “That was so lame.” You shook your head embarrassedly.

"No, it was quite touching, actually," Eddie replied with his head still buried in the notebook.

“So you just write down everything like that?” You asked with your head tilted.

“Pretty much,” he shrugged. “I just scribble down anything that feels important to me.” A smile etched on your lips at that.

“And then sometimes, if I’m lucky, and I mean very very lucky, these thousand notes can turn into a song,” he hummed excitedly.

“Can I see them?” You asked with a hopeful look.

“No way!” He chuckled.

“What?” You exclaimed. “I should be like the only person who has access to that!” You huffed with your arms crossed across your chest.

“And why would that be, princess?” He pinched his brows together, teasing you.

“Uh, maybe because I gave you that notebook, asshole?” You retorted animatedly, teasing him back.

He contemplated for a moment before he spoke. “Okay, how about this…” He mocked a thinking face, piquing your curiosity. “You go in the water with me… and I’ll give you a note,” he offered.

Your gaze drifted toward the cold water. You always hated going to the pool without your bathing suit, and he knew that, but you so wanted those notes.

“Just one?” You squinted your gaze.

Eddie sighed dramatically. "Fine, I can give you one paper with notes on both sides," he conceded. You nodded frantically. “Deal!” You exclaimed, holding out your hand for him to shake it.

“But one more thing,” He spoke up again causing you to groan. “You can only read it once you get home,” he mute.

“Fine, is that all of your conditions, Munson?” you quipped, arching an eyebrow. He mocked a thinking face again. “Pretty much, yeah,” he replied with a sly smirk.

“Okay, okay. Then I’ll go in the pool with you.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah,” you muttered.

“Pinky promise?” He asked with a grin, and you rolled your eyes. Elbowing him playfully at his joke “Jerk,” you muttered under your breath.

“Close your eyes,” he said, his voice low. “What?” You inquired.

“Close your eyes so I can pick a note, and put it in your pocket.” He shrugged, and you obliged with a huff.

You could hear him whipping through the notes, cursing as he debated which one he wanted you to see.

“Your eyes still closed?” He asked, his voice still gentle. You nodded with a huff, trying to appear annoyed when your excitement was building with each passing second.

“‘Kay,” he mumbled, and you could feel his hands grazing you as he stuffed the note in the pocket of your jacket.

“You can open them,” he said as soon as he was finished.

“All done?” You muttered, cheeks still embarrassingly heating after you just felt a graze of his touch. He nodded with a grin.

“Now it’s your turn,” he teased, fingers pointing toward the pool.

Giving him an annoyed glare, you sucked in a shuddering breath. You glanced around at the pool again, the illuminating lights created a cosy atmosphere that truly warmed you, but you knew the chilly water would give you a rude awakening.

Your trembling fingers slid your coat off your shoulders, tossing it aside as your feet splashed around the water. It was cold, and you looked back at Eddie with a pout. “We’re going to catch a cold,” you whined.

Eddie huffed in mock annoyance, his impatience evident. "For the love of God, just go in," he exclaimed. You faced the pool again, feet still swishing around in the water. The more time you took, the closer you could feel Eddie’s silhouette behind you, and you knew if you didn’t go in soon, he was going to intervene.

Your fingers fiddled nervously with the hem of your dress as you contemplated your decision once again. But before you could make up your mind, a sudden and unexpected push from Eddie left you in shock. Without warning, you were propelled dramatically into the pool, the water enveloping you with a cold, exhilarating rush. You emerged almost as soon as you fell in, sputtering and laughing, your dress clinging to your body and your hair plastered to your face.

“You asshole! I knew you would do that,” you exclaimed with a chuckle.

You dived in once, fixing your hair after you emerged again. Your head tilting to see that sly smirk on his lips. “Jerk,” you muttered again.

“Oh, you’ll live,” he mocked.

You extended your hand toward him with a pout, and he had a baffled look on his face. “Help me up, please,” you whined, shaking your hand further to convince him, but he could see that mischievous glint in your eyes.

Eddie squinted at you playfully, his head cocked in mock suspicion. “You think I’m fallin’ for that?” Your scoff only elicited a roll of his eyes. “You pushed me in, dumbass! The least you could do is pull me up." You protested, your hand waving in the air, waiting for him to fall into your trap.

“Nah,” he shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing at his lips. You continued to whine, your hand still reaching out to him.

“Eddie, I’m serious, it’s super cold, and this dress is suffocating me!” You argued, the slight desperation in your voice making him feel for you. Eddie hesitated for a moment. That soft, innocent look in your eyes and the sweet pout on your lips were more than enough to convince him. If only he weren't as hopelessly infatuated with you, he might have resisted longer.

With a deep sigh, he extended his hand toward yours, taking it in a firm grip. “Fine, but if you try to pull me down, I swear to god-”

Before he could finish his threat, you swiftly pulled him toward you, yanking him off balance and into the water with a resounding splash.

Giggles erupted from your lips. “Too late!” you declared triumphantly, a wide grin adorning your face.

As you watched him resurface, he gave his head a good shake, water droplets flew around as his chuckles filled the air, and he couldn't help but praise you with a playful smirk. “You're good,” he admitted, the characteristic dimples on his cheeks making an appearance. You returned his compliment with a warm smile. “I know.”

Eddie felt dizzy; a flood of feelings hit him all at once when he looked at you again. He tried to divert his eyes away from you—from your smooth skin, from the sweet curve of your lips, from the way your brows pinched together when you giggled so sweetly. But he couldn’t.

Those innocent, big eyes that had a slight bit of mischievous glint in them—the way you fluttered your eyelashes at him whenever you teased him—it was all too fucking much for him.

Don’t look at her, Eddie. He tried to remind himself, but it was useless.

God, you really were beautiful.

He shouldn’t be any closer to you, but he couldn’t fucking help it.

When he swam closer, the laughter in the air had fully died down; there was only tension—so much tension that you could hear your own heart rate picking up.

The water around you seemed to shimmer the closer he got to you, caging you between him and the edge of the pool. You gulped physically when you felt the concrete hit your back; he had you cornered.

Each second stretched into hours now, and all the two of you did was gaze into each other's eyes, speaking a language without any words being spoken.

He couldn’t help it when his gaze drooped down to your glossy lips, they looked so kissable that Eddie was about to lose his mind. You opened your mouth to speak but it was of no use, no words dared to come out of it.

You watched in awe as his hands grazed against your cheek first, then he tucked that one strand of hair behind your ears. You could feel his breath fanning against your cheeks—that same speechless expression on his face that mirrored yours.

Eddie was sure you had this unexplainable, tight hold on his heart. He had never, ever felt so completely possessed by someone before. You completely invaded his mind in a way that he struggled to put into words.

His calloused hands hooked behind your back as he inched you a little bit closer. Your heart was pounding inside your ribcage, and your eyes were following his every movement. The second his forehead came to rest against yours, all you could do was squeeze your eyes shut.

“Look at me.” He whispered all huskily, and you were sure you had never heard him filled with this much desire.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes, standing still and even afraid to let out that gasp you’ve been holding on to for far too long.

Was this all real?

Was he actually going to kiss you?

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #stranger things fanfic #rockstar!eddie x reader #getaway car #getaway car series

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politemenacephd · 10 months ago

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Arachnophilia: (Part Seventeen)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Mostly relationship fluff + some worldbuilding. Also Peter content.

Word count: 4890

It was early morning once more, and today light was streaming in through every hole in the nest. The sun was bright and high over the canopy in a sea of pale blue, sitting in an sky barely touched by clouds. It was quiet, calm, even verging on warm, with the morning heat creating a low mist across the grass.

You liked to believe the weather was a reflection of your mood, because today you were finally taking Mig with you to the Society. You were elated, almost giddy, but him? Not so much.

‘Ogh. Look at you. So handsome!’

You grinned up at Mig as he paced about the nest, his eyes solely focused on his chest. His usually bare torso had been covered by a single, plain white shirt, and he seemed to be struggling with the sensation.

‘Mm… It has been, far too long since I had to put one of these on. How do you wear these all the time?’ he grumbled. He kept pulling on the shirt, awkwardly shifting it in and out of place. You were trying to not get distracted by how tight it was. You’d gotten the largest size you could, but it was still sticking quite close to his chest and shoulders, the smooth white fabric perfectly highlighting the rounded pounds of his pecs.

It was rather unfair, really, how you teased him for his constant ogling. You weren’t any better. He was just so damn pretty, with the plain white sitting on his warm skin, hugging his hefty chest.

‘You’ll get used to it’ you reassured him, ‘I did argue with them about the clothing but… they said, you know, society protocol. No shirtlessness. Not even for this most beautiful of men.’

Miguel shot you a smile to acknowledge your praise. ‘Yes. I should have suspected it would not be easy. Still, I appreciate you trying, mi tesoro.’

With those dreary words he crept forward to comfort himself with your touch. His forelegs pulled you in and clutched you to his abdomen, and you nestled back so tight that the fluff went up your nose and caused you to sneeze.

‘Aw—Mi arañita, qué menso eres’ he murmured affectionately.

‘Mean’ you retorted.

He was purring now, his abdomen vibrating and rustling with joy. ‘I will be grateful to have you with me’ he said as he brushed your suit down. It wasn’t dirty, he’d just gone so long without clothes that he assumed you brushing off his shirt was a sign of affection, and he wanted to return it. ‘I would never have gone alone, even if the offer was made again.’

‘I’ll be there the whole time, I promise’ you said. As Mig smiled you sealed that promise with a kiss to his claws. ‘And if Miguel tries anything, I’ll rip his claws out one by one. I promise that too.’

You saw Mig’s smile falter a little. ‘Ah. Yes. Him. He will, be there as well.’

Your smile dipped too. You were trying to joke about the situation but you both knew, deep down, how strange everything had gotten.

There was a tension between all three of you, one that was strange and multilayered in ways you couldn’t discern beyond a constant, simmering, anxiety inducing pressure.

Miguel had remained on watch at your nest after the first time you mated in front of him, and for two days while you prepped he’d stuck to his stubborn word and remained. He’d mostly stayed outside, only coming in occasionally to ensure you were being ‘safe’ as he put it, but he never spoke a single word to either of you.

The only thing you’d noticed is that his eyes, when they fell on you, were no longer cold; they were burning hot, simmering and seething, filled with something unspeakably strong.

You shuddered at the thought.

Luckily Miguel was gone today as you were visiting the HQ, so he could monitor you there, but it felt like his presence was always hanging over your head.

‘Alright. Come on. Let’s go’ you said, gently urging him to follow you with a tap to his belly. For a moment he hesitated, his little paws tapping back and forth on the nest floor, but it was only for a moment. With your face beaming and urging him on he reluctantly followed.

You’d been prepared for Mig to struggle with the portal. He’d never gone through one before and everyone struggled at first, so you were as patient as possible with the big guy.

You just hadn’t expected how badly he’d take it.

The moment you stepped through the lack of weight and gravity seemed to throw him totally off balance. You were used to keeping with the flow, to angling your body so that you flowed seamlessly through the void of space time and out the other end, but Mig didn’t have that.

He immediately crashed into you and sent you both hurtling through the portal at a speed you could not keep up with.

You both rolled out of the portal at max velocity, his enormous body crashing into the HQ floor with such force that it cracked. In the safe, fluffy grip of his legs you were thankfully unharmed, but it didn’t stop you from being dazed. As he tumbled to a stop you gasped.

‘AH—Fuck, oh Mig I am so sorry, I should have done a trial run of—oh god—’

You tried to scramble out of his grip to check on him but he refused to let go. He was terrifyingly strong, with his spider legs folded in tight to his belly, pinning you to his abdominal underbelly.

‘Mig? Mig?’ you panted.

‘Mmm.’

His low groan vibrated right down to your core, and you nearly cried with relief. ‘Oh, Miggy. Are you okay?’

‘I did not enjoy that’ he said bluntly. You managed another breathy laugh. ‘No, no, I can tell.’

As his legs slowly loosened you crawled out from his grip and stumbled to the floor on all fours. You glanced up.

To your horror, hundreds of spiders were perched on every surface available, all of them staring directly at you. It was a sea of suits, a sea of bodies and eyes, all staring with a mix of disgust and curiosity. You turned and immediately patted Mig, urging him to stand.

‘Mig—Babe, uh—’

‘Argh—my, legs—who designed these portals?’ Mig grunted. He was struggling to stand as he unfolded his long legs. ‘They are not safe, didn’t you say there were quite young spiders who—’

A wide-ranging, multi layered gasp of horror momentarily interrupted Mig’s grumbling, finally drawing him to look around. Everyone was in a defensive position, their eyes trained on his body. You instinctively sank against his side.

‘Hey, hey, it’s okay’ you whispered to him. You could see his eyes sinking already. He tried to step forward, his claws outstretched, but when every spider jolted in fear he froze up.

‘Hey! Sorry, guys, don’t um—he’s safe, he’s fine’ you cried. You impulsively stepped forward with your hands raised, hoping to de-escalate the situation. ‘This is—Miguel, or uh, Mig? If that’s easier, he’s a variant, he’s safe! He’s fine!’

To your continued discomfort, nobody said or did anything.

‘Hey! You two!’

You turned to see Jess making her way through the ogling crowd. She seemed to be trying her best to ignore them. ‘There you are, you—did you break the floor? My lord—never mind. So, obviously you guys know about the mandatory work you gotta do before you can be sent on missions?’

You awkwardly nodded in response, but Mig was too fixated on the crowd staring him down. You’d never seen him look so small.

‘Okay, good’ Jess said, ignoring Mig’s discomfort. She just ticked a few boxes on her hologram. ‘You have a few today, just—do your best, you’ll be fine. I just needed to give you this to fill out for HR and then you can get to work.’

She handed you a pile of papers before turning back into the crowd. She paused briefly to gage the amount of spiders and their curious eyes.

‘HEY! What are we, a circus? Do none of you have work to do?’ she yelled. The overtone of her voice quickly scattered the spiders as they flung themselves in all directions, and with a huff she followed after them. You and Mig were left alone.

‘A whole… new world.’

You looked up to see Mig murmuring to himself. His eyes were fixed on the building, on the view of the world beyond the big glass walls. He shone with a deep melancholia.

‘A whole, new world. And… everything is the same.’

Your heart sank. You shyly took his paw in yours.

‘Well, that was… a bad start, but, it’ll get better. It’ll be fine. We’ll be-- fine’ you said.

…

You were wrong. The rest of the day wasn’t much better.

You had certain activities you had to finish before you were cleared. The society wasn’t a workplace, but it functioned like one, and you were constantly in life-or-death situations. That meant all relationships needs to be safe.

You were expected to do three things: mandatory couples therapy, de-escalation and crisis training, and monthly reviews with an elite.

All of them went terribly.

You went to HR to hand in your forms and found only one person waiting at the desk. They were curt, almost rude, rushing through your paperwork, and after leaving you peered through the door only to find six other people had been hiding behind desks. You heard them gossiping and left in shame.

At your first de-escalation training for couples, you couldn’t even fit Mig through the front door, and you were forced to both sit in the hallway with the door half open to listen in. Every other couple there barely focused on the course; they just stared at you both, making little whispers and comments to each other.

You ended up failing that session due to Mig’s heightened anxiety. Any mention of a scenario where you were hurt caused him to panic and clutch you close, with his fangs overproducing venom as a protection tactic. They had to tape off the area as a hazardous spill zone. More mess, more eyes, more morbid curiosity.

Even your mandated therapy was unbearably awkward. The therapist assigned kept making suggestive questions regarding your safety, your wellbeing, questioning if Mig had some kind of fetishistic problem.

It wasn’t just Mig though, or at least, not just his body. People were clearly fixated on your closeness.

At the start of the day you were as physically affectionate as you usually were, since that’s what you were used to. You kissed his claws and he held you with his forelegs, he would scratch your head and you would hold his hand.

But you could see, now, the overt morbid curiosity in those around you. Even when you tried to find time alone, either in corridor corners or darker rooms, you kept spotting people staring.

As the day wound on you got more and more stingy with your affection. Mig kept dropping your hand to avoid people staring at you, and you had to hide your kisses when they happened.

With every activity you attended you felt a little isolated, a little less welcome. You hadn’t expected it to be easy, or even good, but you just hadn’t anticipated how bad it would feel. You began to feel guilty for doing this to Mig.

After your last therapy session, you began making your way through the lobby together. It was here, whilst making small talk and enjoying the brief moment of solitude, that you felt the hair on your nape stand up. You turned.

Miguel was up in the rafters above, his masked eyes following your every move. In the shadows you could only see the deep, sharp red lines of his suit as they shifted.

‘You—fuck.’

With a hiss you turned and sped forward. Mig rushed to catch up.

‘Ah—arañita?’

‘It’s all him’ you hissed angrily. ‘It’s all- him! He’s spread it everywhere, because he’s trying to embarrass us into giving up!’

‘Who? You mean—’ Mig paused midsentence. He didn’t need to say it; he knew who you meant. You hurried into a small, darkened corridor between two other meetings rooms, a space where you could avoid any prying eyes.

‘That—fucking, asshole’ you whisper shouted. Mig squished himself into the tight space and tried to grab you for comfort, but you were too busy pacing. ‘Fucking—Who does he think he is? Why won’t anyone say anything to him?!’

‘Mi tesoro’ Mig whispered back. ‘what is it? What do you mean?’

‘He—’ you paused to breath as you felt that guilty tug in your gut once more. ‘I’m so sorry, Mig, I—I knew this would happen. I knew it. Miguel knew I wanted you to join, and he said he—he said if he did let you in, he’d make sure we, quote, would learn why he keeps his relationships private. Obviously he wants you to feel unwelcome.’

‘Ah—yes, that—sounds like something he would do’ Mig said slowly.

‘I’m so sorry, I really—I wanted you to feel better’ you stammered. ‘I wanted you feel, just… I don’t know. I wanted something. I wanted the OPPOSITE of this!’

‘Hey, hey, arañita. It’s okay’ he said softly. As his foreleg gripped your arm you felt a wave of hopelessness wash over you.

‘Is it okay?’ you whispered back. ‘Is it? Are you okay? After what he’s done?’

Mig opened his mouth, but no words came out. You could see it in the dim light; the flash of his red eyes as they drooped and narrowed, the way he looked down and to the side out of shame.

Not one person besides you had even acted neutral to him. They’d all treated him like an animal, a monster, without shame.

You didn’t want to call this effort a failure. He deserved to be loved, to be valued, to be heard, but how did you do that?

Something had to change. Even just one thing. You closed your eyes and sighed.

‘HI!’

You and Mig both jumped in unison as someone’s cheery voice erupted right against your ears.

Mig launched himself into protection mode. With his fangs bared and his claws spread he pushed you to his back, but it was you who stepped in to call him off when you realized who the assailant was.

‘No, no, wait—I know him!’ you stammered.

Mig obediently stayed his hand when told, and after checking you were safe he turned to the speaker.

Peter B was standing on the ceiling, his head upside but more or less at the same height as Mig’s. He beamed at you both. ‘Shoot, sorry—did I scare you guys? Wow that feels weird, me scaring the big spider’ he blurted in his usual chatty tone. You stepped forward to greet him.

‘Ah, hi! You’re uh—Peter, right? I mean that’s half the people here but—’

‘My name is Peter, yes, and as you just pointed out that’s really a lucky guess, but I’m ASSUMING what you mean is I’m Peter Peter, the uh—’

‘The sad one’ you said, far blunter than you’d usually be. He beamed and snapped his fingers.

‘There it is! Yes, that’s me. Or I was.’

‘R-Right. Well, um-- Hi! Can we, help you, with anything?’ you asked. You could sense Mig was still a bit tense, so you decided to step in and speak in his place.

Peter dropped to the floor with an oomph before responding. ‘Ah—well, sort of. I’m not here on an errand though’ he cheerily explained as he stretched. You raised a brow.

‘You’re not?’

‘Nope! I’m here for—him!’ With a gleeful squeal Peter turned to Mig, his eyes eagerly running up every inch of the man’s body. You saw Mig tapping his paws in confusion.

‘Have I- done, something offensive?’ Mig murmured awkwardly.

‘Oh, he’s exactly like I thought he’d be’ Peter cooed. ‘He’s so awkward! No, you haven’t done anything wrong. I just wanted to see if I could uh, tag along with you guys for a bit.’

‘You did?’ you and Mig both said in unison.

‘Oh you’re adorable’ Peter said with a dramatic sigh. ‘You’re both so… well, whatever. You don’t need me fawning over you. But yes! Obviously! Who wouldn’t wanna learn more about the Miguel variant with the spider body? I wanna hear everything!’

‘You do?’ You and Mig repeated together.

‘Yeah! I—look, I feel bad at how strict the others are being on you two. I mean I don’t get it, the whole, spider thing, I mean he is very handsome but the spider is a bit of a deal breaker for me. But I’m just like, hey, good for you guys, you know? Good that it works for you!’

You blinked in surprise as Peter continued to ramble.

‘Plus, look, uh—my wife, Mary, she—well, she’s pregnant!’ he squealed, ‘like, right now! Ah! And I don’t have anyone but Jess to talk to about relationships and I mean she’s always so busy, and Miguel can’t hear about baby stuff, but YOU two! You guys, I can talk to! So, can I? Can I uh—hang around for a bit?’

You glanced at Mig, expecting to see the same hesitation on his face as you felt in yours, only to find him utterly elated. He looked so happy.

‘Ah—yes, of course’ he stammered, his enormous abdomen shifting and vibrating. ‘Of course, a-absolutely. Let us, talk.’

Peter clapped his hands with joy, and you realized you had no other option.

‘GREAT! You guys wanna see the canteen?’

…

‘And I swear, I begged for HOURS, but Mary just wouldn’t come around to it! I said come on, what’s the worst thing that’s ever happened at a gender reveal party?!'

You chuckled politely as Peter finished his dramatic story, a sharp contrast to Mig who was erupting with his sweet, gruff, awkward laughter.

You were sat at a booth in the HQ canteen, with Peter on one side and you on the other, while Mig was awkwardly folded on the floor at the tables head. You’d tried to make room but there just wasn’t space.

You knew everyone was staring at you. You knew they were keeping their heads down so you didn’t suspect them of listening in, even though it was obvious they were. Even the people serving in the kitchen were craning their necks over the counters to watch.

You sank a little deeper into your chair.

‘Your mate sounds very responsible’ Mig said. He shuffled a little as a couple of people had to hop over his body to get around the corridor. ‘Ah—and it is, wonderful to hear your attempts to have offspring were successful. I don’t blame you for being excited. I would be, inconsolable in your position, from joy that is.’

‘Right! I’m just excited, like come on’ Peter said loudly as he grabbed a fry from his plate. ‘Like I was scared, you know? Who knows what my weird spider genes will do! It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.’

‘Yes. I worried about the same things’ Mig said softly. ‘With my biology being so… poorly constructred, I often lie awake wondering what I would create. But it is hard, to deny yourself something when it is so… close, to your heart. It is what I always wanted, and I know many like us feel that way.’

‘Oh—yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive’ Peter whispered. Mig shook his head.

‘No, no. As mi tesoro says, we’re all strange on the inside.’ Mig turned to you with a smile as he spoke, and you returned it.

‘Right! Sorry, sorry, ah— enough about me though, I have so many questions for YOU. How DID you two meet?’ Peter asked as he folded his hands over the table.

‘Oh, that is an interesting story. Mi arañita, do you—’ Mig turned and gestured with his claws, politely offering you the chance to step in. You quickly swallowed the single fries serving you’d ordered and tried to respond.

‘Oh—oh! Right, um—I was sent to fix an anomaly in his universe, it was my first proper mission and I uh… I, botched it, pretty badly.’

‘Don’t say that arañita, you did well considering the circumstances’ Mig cooed. You waved him off.

‘Yeah, yeah. Well, I messed up and needed help, everyone was busy but I remembered Miguel saying he had a variant in that universe. He said not to reach out, but, I did. And I met Mig.’

‘Yes, I—found them cowering beneath a tree. Such a handsome creature, I thought. So pretty. Que chula, that’s all I could say. I was so attracted I momentarily forgot that they likely would try to kill me out of fear’ Mig dreamily reminisced. Despite your anxiety your smile widened.

‘Oh, you, you’re such a romantic. I could tell’ Peter added as he circled his finger at Mig.

‘Anyway, they—did not hurt me, which I was glad of. I helped heal them and fixed their web shooter, and, they offered to return. To, spend time with me. So we kept doing that and—became friends’ Mig said, finishing the brief and work-friendly version of the story.

‘Oh, that’s— nicer than I was expecting, honestly, considering how we first met you’ Peter teased.

Mig missed the teasing and responded bluntly. ‘Yes! Well, that is the first half. After that, one day they happened to visit while I was rutting, and when I pleaded to mate them, they agreed. We became a mated pair from then on, which is why they were hiding at my house, the poor thing went into quite a severe heat due to my presence.’ His soft, satisfied smile never wavered as he recalled that day.

You could hear a pin drop in the canteen; Mig was talking, but nobody else was.

You immediately sank so low you almost fell beneath the table. Oh god, you thought, why. Why. Why. Why did he have to be so blunt.

You’d shown off in front of Miguel in relative private, sure, but this was different. That was to humiliate him. It made you feel powerful to be in Mig’s arms, beneath his body, but the eyes on you were turning that power to shame.

Peter maintained his smile, but you could see he was a little surprised at the blunt swerve in conversational tone. ‘I—I mean I wasn’t gonna ask about it, you know, it’s rude’ he stammered. ‘You don’t seem like a man who’d kiss and tell—’

‘You mean the mating?’ Mig asked. You shrank into your seat as his words echoed.

‘Ah—yes, the—is that what you call it?’

‘Is that not what it is?’ Mig asked as he tilted his head. ‘I believe that is the proper term. Or, do you mean, here it’s called sex? Because that is also what I meant, and I see no reason to hide it. We’re all sexually mature.’

You noticed Peter stifling laughter as he listened to Mig. Instinctively your stomach clenched; was he just here to make fun of Mig? To make fun of you both? Had you been tricked?

Luckily, Peter spoke before you could spiral further. ‘Oh, you’re so delightful! Isn’t he delightful? I can see why you like him’ he said with his finger pointed at you. ‘I wish I had the guts to say half this stuff, my god, the confidence! I love it! And I can tell he clearly likes you.’

‘Oh, they are—wonderful’ Mig purred in response. His abdomen began to vibrate as he closed his eyes, his thoughts lingering in memories of you in his arms. You gripped the table and begged for the strength to not physically slam your hand over his mouth.

‘Isn’t the size difference a little difficult though?’ Peter whispered. ‘I don’t mean to pry, but—’

‘I was worried about the same thing, but, they take me remarkably well’ Mig said calmly. You thought your teeth would crack, and yet still Peter seemed utterly unphased. ‘I always ensure that they’re not in pain and that they’re enjoying it, and I’ve never had issues.’

‘Oh, well that’s good to hear! I know it’s tough, having issues, especially in those uh—very, intimate areas, and especially I imagine when you’re uh—well, you! So, different! And so early on in a relationship, I mean my god you’re doing better than I did at this stage. You guys must really get along.’

Peter turned to you as he spoke, as if prompting you to engage with the conversation a little more. He must have noticed your silence. Unfortunately, you were still too mortified to really say much more.

‘Y-Yeah. Yeah’ you stammered, unsure of what more to say. Peter seemed to notice your hesitation; Mig did not.

‘Yes. I—I like them, a lot’ Mig said wistfully. ‘It’s not been easy, even now, adjusting to this—body, but… In truth, I feel more wanted now than I did when human. When I was, considered attractive. When I fit into places. That means the world to me. They are, priceless. Mi tesoro.’

You felt your face start to glow as Mig looked down at you in the booth. For just a moment, in that silent space with your eyes locked on, you recontextualized your embarrassment. You felt, guilt.

You were struggling with all the attention. You couldn’t deny that. You knew this was Miguel’s plan to pry you apart, to leave you at the mercy of their constant ridicule. The eyes on you, the constant judgement, it was rough.

But, seeing how happy Mig was, it made you wonder: why did you care?

He looked so happy as he gazed at you. His soft, affectionately creased eyes, his upturned lips showing the thick fangs beneath. What a pretty man.

And Peter, despite your initial reservations, didn’t seem phased at all.

When you’d had everyone’s approval, when you’d been just another replaceable spider doing everything routine and by the books, you’d been ignored. They hadn’t wanted you then, so why did it matter if they didn’t want you now?

Now, you had someone who did. Who cares that you were infatuated with a monster? At least you were wanted.

You smiled. ‘Mig, is… Wonderful, at what he does’ you said softly. ‘I really couldn’t ask for more. He’s so attentive, he—knits me suits, the pillows, and blankets, he refurbished his entire nest for me, he’s always making sure I’m well taken care of. He never raises his voice, never avoids me. I am… very, very, happy.’

The emphasis and tone you put on ‘happy’ was more than enough indication of your sincerity, and was certainly enough to put plenty of unwanted images in the heads of those listening. You didn’t care. You let them imagine, and you beamed up at the real thing.

‘PETER!’

You, Mig and Peter all turned as that chilling voice echoed through the canteen.

Miguel was walking stiffly down the canteen corridor, his eyes roaming. He seemed to be looking for someone, most likely the man he’d just called for.

‘Peter, you’re supposed to be on mission with me. You—’ Miguel paused. He looked up to see you and Mig, sitting comfortably with his friend at the table. The two people he'd been viciously targetting. The two people who had humiliated him in the worst way possible.

‘What is this?’ he hissed.

‘OH! Hey big guy, big fella, big boss man’ Peter cried back, cheery as ever. He didn’t seem to notice the tension as he hopped the back of the booth. ‘I was just making friends! I can say that, right, uh—Mig, is that what people call you? Can I use that?’

Peter spun back to Mig who, under pressure, immediately nodded. ‘Ah—yes, of course. Friends. Yes.’

‘GREAT! Great! Oh, I got two Miguel friends! I’ll catch you two around, okay?’

‘You sure will’ you replied. Peter waved you off as he clapped Miguel on the back.

‘Man those two are great. You never told me your variant was so nice! He’s hilarious!’

You could see that hot, burning anger in Miguel’s eyes even from here as Peter rambled on at him. It was barely disguised beneath his usual calm, collected expression.

You saw him realizing that, even by a small amount, his plan was failing. Mig was being treated as normal, and not by just anyone, but by someone close to him, someone who he could never let find out about your voyeuristic escapades.

Miguel grit his teeth as he tried to find any words to say. ‘Peter, you—’

‘Come on, my god—you were so urgent a minute ago.’ Peter laughed as he dragged Miguel away by the shoulder, and while the man’s eyes lingered on you both he did not strain against Peter’s grip. He reluctantly followed.

Back at the booth, you made a choice. You crawled up onto the table, pushing the fries aside, and with both hands you grabbed Mig’s face. You turned him physically, as he’d been gazing after Peter.

You smiled up at him without a care.

‘My Mig’ you said softly, and then you kissed him. He eagerly kissed you back. In front of the whole canteen you nestled into his fluffy forelegs and let him kiss you from your forehead to your chin.

It wasn’t exactly a perfect first day, but it was good. It was enough for now. Mig had one more friend than he’d had at the start.

But you knew, deep down, Miguel wouldn’t just let this go.

Link to next part!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #smut #smut with plot #arachnophilia #drider #miguel o'hara smut #drider miguel o'hara #monster human relationship #forbidden romance

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vandnana · 2 years ago

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In Love With The Enemy [II]

Chapter 2: The Son He Never Wanted

pairing: lo’ak x female turned na’vi reader

summary: during the time when jake became toruk makto, you were quaritch’s youngest and most valued soldier, the daughter he never had. but, pandora changed you and you died during the final battle, betraying quaritch and wishing that you had been able to do more. now, you have been reborn again, as a na’vi, tasked with quaritch’s new military avatar crew to kill Jake Sully. taking advantage of this second chance at life, you help the Sullys and fall in love along the way.

genre: fluff, angst ~ slow burn, pining on lo’ak’s part.

warnings: mentions of blood, war, violence

highlights: [more tearjerking jake and reader moments, neytiri and mo’at being like mothers to reader, lo’ak continuing to be an entire SIMP, and ofc tuk being adorably annoying like always]

word count: 9,242

note: how are you all doing?? as always, i’d like to thank you for waiting for this part! i don’t want to spoil anything before you read, but i will note that i just think all the moments with lo’ak are so cute cause he just flirts with her (or tries to) and she plays along, but on the inside she gets all fluttery and is kinda clueless about everything cause no one’s ever acted like that with her so AHHHHH — I really hope you all enjoy this chapter!!

[prologue] [chapter 1]

When you finally arrived back at camp, the night fog cleared all around you as Lo’ak’s ikran landed gracefully on the edge of the rock, that fog once shrouding you and Lo’ak in a bubble of joyous freedom dissipating as your return grounded you back into reality.

Jake was waiting for you with his arms crossed. You caught a glimpse of Lo’ak’s face, annoyed as he hopped off his ikran. Once his feet landed, he relinquished his annoyed expression, though only for a second, as he outstretched a hand for you to take.

“I got this.” You replied, hopping off on your own.

“Oh yeah, of course,” He replied, coolly drawing his hand back and placing it on the back of his neck as he feigned nonchalance.

“Do my orders mean nothing to you?” Jake yelled out, his anger clearly seething through his whole body as he stomped toward you both.

Lo’ak’s shoulders slumped, dreading his father’s lecture and dropping his hands from his neck, “No sir.”

You stepped between Jake and Lo’ak, putting your hands up, “Woah, woah, woah. Calm down old man. I asked him to take me around, okay? Your anger shouldn’t be focused on Lo’ak.”

Jake huffed in frustration, “He’s my son, y/n. He disobeyed direct orders.”

You lowered your eyes at Jake, “Oh, and you haven’t?”

Lo’ak scrunched his eyebrows at you, surprised by your boldness, but what really caught him off guard was his father’s quickness to concede to you, his expression softening.

“Fine, fine, but next time, I won’t be as forgiving.” He turned to Lo’ak, “Take her to your grandmother please.”

Lo’ak nodded, and Jake took him by the arm, glaring, “And no detours, got it?”

He fought back the urge to roll his eyes as he replied, “Yes sir.”

“Alright, dismissed.” He ordered.

“No, not dismissed. We need to talk about my father, Jake. He’s still out there.” You urged, planting your feet in front of him.

Jake put his hands on his head, “I know he’s out there, but right now, what I’m worried about is you.” He looked down at your wound, its ache suddenly making itself known to you, but you were too prideful to admit it.

His voice became scarily low as he spoke again, his expression grave, “You need to go get that patched up. Now.”

Jake pushed you forward, and you reluctantly moved your feet. Lo’ak took his place beside you as you both walked, Jake changing his mind about leaving Lo’ak to escort you to the tent as he trailed behind you both.

You observed everything around you as you walked further into the cave. It was vast, practically endless, and although the night sky was shielding its stars with its fog, you were still able to see their slight glimmer in the sky. It wasn’t too far into the night, groups of Na’vi, warriors, women, and children still in clusters, all of them staring at you as you passed, clearly weary of you in your odd clothing, but seeing Jake behind you, they seemed to relax. Amidst them though, you saw a few humans, their breathers on, wearing the khaki jumpsuits that all of the scientists had worn when you were alive.

“Wait.” Your tone displaying sternness as you stopped, turning toward Jake, “I need to know.”

You paused, heaviness filling your heart as fear began to consume it, “Is Trudy dead?”

You had assumed the worst, but you still clung to a tiny bit of hope that shattered instantly as you looked into Jake’s eyes, the glint of sadness in them affirming what you had feared. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know what that sadness meant. You felt a horrid clawing at your chest and you could only understand that feeling being the unbearable crushing of your heart. Jake hugged you as that pain settled in, and you felt so dreadfully numb, you couldn’t even wrap your arms around him.

“What about Norm and Max?” You asked pleadingly.

He let go of you, giving you a small smile, “They’re alive, and they know you’re here.”

Hearing that they were alive didn’t settle your grief, but you felt the mixture of emotions take over you as your relief and sadness melded together.

“I want to see them. Take me to them.” You stated resolutely, planting your heels into the ground as Jake shook his head at you, trying to push you forward agian.

“No, you’re not going anywhere until you see Mo’at.” He argued.

“Jake, I told you I was fine, okay?” Although, the throbbing was getting worse as you spoke, “Just let me see them please? Don’t you think it’s been long enough?” You responded, your forehead scrunched in frustration.

“They’ll still be here when you’re better, y/n. Now, will you please just listen?” He pleaded with you, his eyes stern again, “Don’t make me carry you over there, you big baby.” He warned, and you finally gave up.

“Fine,” You conceded, huffing in compliance as you crossed your arms, “I’d shoot you if I still had my gun.”

Jake shook his head at you, ruffling your hair, “Like you can aim with that injury.”

You slapped his hand away, smoothing your hair out as he pleaded, “Norm and Max aren’t going anywhere either, so just do as I say, please?”

“Well, stop being annoying and just let me go with Lo’ak, okay?” You huffed out.

“Alright, then go!” Jake encouraged as he shifted his point toward the tent.

“Alright alright, we’re going.” You spoke, putting your hands on Lo’ak’s back to get him to walk.

When there was finally some distance between you and Jake, you sighed, moving from where you were behind him to walk next to him instead. He stopped when you did, putting a gentle hand on your arm. You halted at the touch, blinking in confusion as your eyes traveled downward. You looked at him, anticipating what he had to say.

When you had mentioned Trudy, he had remembered he still had your pictures in his cloth pocket, and taking them out, he nudged them toward you, “Your pocket ripped and they fell out when we were in the tree. I figured they were important to you.”

Looking down, you finally noticed your pocket, widely ripped at its width. Taking the pictures out of his hand, you fought back tears that were easily brimming in your eyes. You let a weak chuckle out, embarrassed by your own emotions as Lo’ak looked at you sincerely.

Realizing that he was still holding onto you, he let go, clearing his throat, “The other girl in there.” He began, “That’s Trudy, isn’t it?”

You traced over her smiling face, “She was my best friend, you know. She was the best pilot in the whole unit. We would fly together.”

He listened, humming in response as you reminisced. Trudy was dead, but Lo’ak had returned a piece of her to you, and you couldn’t help but smile at him, your expression illuminating with gratefulness.

Lo’ak blushed instantly, shy under your gaze, his hand going to the back of his neck, “You have to stop looking at me like that.”

You shrugged, “Like what? I’m just grateful, that’s all.”

Lo’ak cleared his throat, finding his courage as he met your eyes again, “Well, you look pretty when you’re grateful.” The shyness you brought out of him retreating as his usual smugness took over.

You didn’t expect such boldness, scoffing as you dismissed him, “And how do I look when I’m not grateful?”

Still maintaining his cavalier, his heart pumping rapidly as he thought up his response, he smirked at you, “Still pretty.”

You were blushing, but you scoffed, lightly smacked his arm, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you were actually charmed by his attempt at flirting.

“Y/n! Y/n! You’re finally here!” An innocent tone rang out, making you tear your eyes away from Lo’ak.

Tuk was running toward you, overjoyed at seeing you again.

“Tuk, can’t you be annoying somewhere else?” Lo’ak groaned, crossing his arms as he glared at her.

Tuk stuck her tongue out at her brother, “Whatever Lo’ak. I bet you were the one annoying her.” She retorted, taking you by the hand and dragging you toward the tent.

You shrugged your shoulders at Lo’ak, motioning for him to follow, and he unwilling agreed, trudging after you.

Once you approached the tent, you saw Neytiri on the floor weaving amber, circular beads and golden twine together. You greeted her properly, “I see you Neytiri.”

Hearing your voice, she got up, putting down what she was weaving to greet you back, her voice welcoming as she spoke, “Come, you are hurt. I will help bathe you before mother heals you.”

She lowered her eyes at Lo’ak, her tone changing into a stern one as she ordered, “Out Lo’ak and take Tuk with you.”

He groaned as Tuk pouted, “Mama, why can’t I stay?”

“Just listen to mama, okay?” Neytiri said, and Tuk nodded reluctantly.

Lo’ak sighed, turning on his heel to exit the tent. Before he stepped out completely you called his name, his head spinning back so quickly at the sound of your voice.

You still had the pictures in your hand, and you held them out to him, “Keep them safe for me?”

He smiled at you as he took them from your hands, purposely brushing his fingers against yours, “Of course.”

You knew what he was trying to do as you felt his fingers touch yours and you stifled a light chuckle, “I’ll see you later.”

“Draw the curtain!” Neytiri yelled, and Lo’ak did as she asked, taking one last glance at you before he pulled the drapery down.

You made eye-contact with Neytiri again, who put a gentle hand at your back, guiding you to the large basin filled with water, steam coming from it, in the middle of the tent.

On the other side of it was Neytiri’s mother, her back turned as she prepared bowls of herbs for your healing treatment, their earthy aroma filling the air.

Once she turned around, you greeted her politely, gesturing your hand from your forehead to hers, “I see you, Mo’at.”

You were surprised as she seemed pleased with you, a hint of a smile gracing her lips as she acknowledged your presence, “Y/n Quaritch.”

She walked over to you, circling you as she studied your features, “There is never death, only change. You are proof of this. The Great Mother has blessed you with new life.”

You averted your gaze, hardly sharing the same feeling, your heart twisting as she spoke. You could feel the guilt within you rise in her presence, your father’s sins against her weighing down on your chest.

Mo’at could sense how troubled you felt inside, and even just seeing your tired expression, she could tell you were exhausted, that tiredness taking its toll underneath your eyes.

She placed her hands on the sides of your face, gently lifting your head to meet her eyes, “You have been through much, child. Be calm. You are with your people and you are home.”

You gulped, shaking your head at her, “I don’t understand,” Your eyes went to Neytiri, your gaze showing how burdened you felt, “My father destroyed your home and killed Eytukan, killed so many of your people. How can you welcome me so easily?”

Mo’at and Neytiri exchanged glances with one another, their thoughts becoming unified as each of them took one of your hands into theirs, the coldness you felt in your heart, suddenly warming through their motherly touch.

Mo’at spoke with conviction, her wisdom echoing through the tent, “Your father’s evils are not yours, y/n. You were born of the Sky People, selfish and cruel they are. Yet, you protected life and gave your own for someone you loved. You were always meant to be one of Us.”

“What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

Neytiri looked as if she was going to cry, her voice sincere, “Jake, it was his life that you saved.” She put her other hand on your cheek, a single tear falling from her eyes, “I will never forget what you’ve done for me, for my family, my people. You have a strong heart, y/n like Jake. You are one of The People.”

You couldn’t find any words, the inner turmoil inside of you fighting to stay as their heartfelt reassurances melted it down, almost reducing it to nothing as you felt the warmth emanating from them both enter into your heart.

You had only ever felt this feeling once in your life, and it happened with Grace. It was the feeling of being recognized by a mother, and having craved it so much, having missed Grace so much, you let yourself be captured by that feeling, no longer battling against it and leaning into that comfort.

Neytiri and Mo’at noticed the change in you, and as you relaxed, they helped you out of your clothing. Mo’at unwrapped the cloth around your wound, and you winced in pain when she pulled the bullet out, leaving the widened gash open. That pain quickly subsided when they guided you into the basin, the touch of the heated water on your skin calming the tension in your whole body.

The two of them worked on either side of you, gently scrubbing your skin with soft, green cloths. Using a specialized herb mixture, its floral scent wafting in the air, Neytiri rubbed it in your hair, while Mo’at washed your body meticulously with another mixture, the floral scent of the hairwash mixing with the citrus-like scent of the one for your body. Eventually, all the dirt, caked blood, and yanna bark sap was gone, and with it came the layers of strain.

When they had finished washing you, they helped you out of the basin, drying you off quickly with another set of cloths.

Neytiri came up behind you, “Lift your arms.”

You did as she said, allowing her to drape something over you, and as you looked down you realized it was the piece she was weaving earlier, the twine coming together in an asymmetric halter shape, the beads cascading downward where your shoulder was.

“I made it like this so it is open where you were hurt.” She explained.

“This is beautiful.” You said in awe, and she gave you a satisfied smile.

Neytiri continued to hep you get dressed, teaching you how to fasten the loin cloth properly, and when you grasped the idea, you did it yourself. Once it was secured, Mo’at gestured for you to follow her, leading you toward the array of bowls that you had seen her prepare earlier.

Beside her array was a hammock, her eyes going to it as she spoke to you, “Lie down.”

You nodded, seating yourself in the hammock then lifting your legs up to fill the length of it. You watched as she took one of the bowls in her hand, warming a thickened paste she had made between her fingers, and you breathed deeply as she slabbed it into the open flesh and all around it, the cool sting of the herbs spreading throughout your wound. As she continued to rub the paste, you could feel your eyes get heavy, your vision blurring as you fought to stay awake.

Mo’at neatly blanketed your wound with a fresh new wrap, smothering the coolness from the paste and engulfing the area in comfortable warmth, and once that settled, you had lost the fight to your own exhaustion, your eyes shutting as sleep took over you.

By the time that Jake came to visit, there was no hope of waking you up. He was still having a hard time grasping that you were really alive, but he was just so happy to see you that he hardly cared, smiling as he knelt beside you.

“Ma Jake.” Neytiri called, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He turned his head, standing up, and with his full attention she continued, “She knows about how she died.”

Jake groaned, whispering, “How could you tell her? It wasn’t something she needed to know.”

“She deserves to know, just as she deserves to know about other things.” Her tone hinting as she gave him a serious expression.

Jake looked back at you, peaceful as you slept soundly, “She’s not ready.”

“Y/n is strong.” Neytiri defended, “You do not need to worry for her.”

“It’s not her I’m worried about.” He replied, meeting her gaze again, “It’s him.”

“And you have not told him either, that his father is that demon.” She hissed at Jake in frustration, “You cannot keep them apart and you cannot keep the truth from both of them. They are brother and sister.”

Mo’at cleared her throat behind them, “Do not disturb her in her sleep with such talk.” She drew the curtain back slightly, making an opening, “I will watch her.”

Although unwilling to leave you, Jake agreed, entrusting you with Mo’at as he left, Neytiri taking the lead as they both exited the tent. When they both walked out, Lo’ak was nearby, waiting to see you and Tuk, who had gotten bored, left not too long before her parents walked out.

He started to walk toward the tent, and noticing him, Jake stepped forward, “We’re having a family meeting. Go get your sisters.”

There was no chance to protest as his parents’ glares bore into him, forcing his obedient nod. Jake and Neytiri waited for all of their children just a couple meters away from where you were. Neteyam came first and a little after came Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk, and another with him.

Neteyam took sight of his brother and his approaching siblings, greeting the other that had come with them, “Hey Spider.”

Neytiri gave Jake a worried glance, but he dismissed her, turning to his children, his expression serious as he explained your situation and who you were, carefully choosing his words as he spoke.

“So, she really— “ Spider paused, trying to understand, “She really died and came back…as a Na’vi?”

Jake and Neytiri nodded, and Spider put a hand at his chin, his eyes showing his amazement, “That is insane.”

“She has helped this family in more ways than you know.” Neytiri revealed, “I expect you to treat her like family.”

“Yes, mother. We will make sure she feels at home.” Neteyam reassured him.

“Yeah! I love her already!” Tuk exclaimed, turning to her sister, “And you’ll love her too Kiri!”

Kiri smiled at her sister, her eyes turning hopeful as she asked, “Did she really know my mother?” She was clutching onto the pendant of her necklace, once her mother’s but passed on to her.

“Yes, she knew her longer than any of us.” Jake affirmed, giving his daughter a reassuring smile.

He looked at Neytiri, who was already giving him a disapproving expression, “And I want you kids to promise me something.”

They leaned in, waiting for what he had to say and he continued, his tone serious, “I don’t want her anywhere near the lab or anywhere near the humans, okay?”

Lo’ak was quick to protest, “Why not? You know more than anyone that she wants to see Norm and Max.”

“She will see them, alright? Just not yet, okay? Can you just do as I—“

Then came your scream. To everyone else, it wasn’t all that loud, but to Jake it painfully rang in his ears like a siren and without hesitation, he ran, Neytiri and the children running after him.

He bolted into the tent, your figure shuddering in Mo’at’s arms as she held you, your stare blank as you looked at the floor, the remainder of a nightmare hanging in the thickness of the air. It would have been better if you had just slept horribly, then you would have expected this. But, beautiful dreams had come to you before a nightmare infested them— you saw your father, his sneer as he killed Jake and his family one by one, the blood splattering on your face as he made you watch, and no matter how much you screamed, no matter how hard you tried to stop him, there was nothing you could do.

Hearing Jake, Mo’at loosened her embrace and leaned backward as Jake knelt beside you, holding you by the shoulders before pulling you in.

“It’ll be alright, y/n. You’re okay.” Jake reassured you, his hands rubbing at your back.

Neytiri came up beside you too, her hand on your shoulder.

The children though stayed outside, climbing up onto the adjoining rock beside the tent and peeking through the upper openings in the tent to see.

“Is this how you felt when I died?” You weakly let out, leaning back to look at Jake, who blinked at you, his heart aching at the question, “I know it was just a dream, but I watched my father kill you Jake. You and your family.”

Jake could feel your grief from your shaken voice, the hurt that he felt from you seeping into his own soul, “That’s all it was y/n. A dream. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

You looked away, not wanting to believe in such hope, but Jake made you look at him again, “Hey, hey, do you remember what you told me before? Before the bulldozers came?”

It was impossible to forget, one of the last memories you had with Jake, “Of course I do.”

Jake took your hands into his, his voice resolute and determined, “A father protects. It’s what gives him meaning. You died protecting me when I should have protected you. I’m not gonna make that mistake again.”

You were crying as he said those words, smiling as you wiped them away, the sorrow inside of you dissipating as he smiled back at you.

“You’re safe here.” Jake said, patting the hammock, “You can rest, okay?”

You shook your head, “I’ve been dead for what, twenty years?” You got up, fidgeting with your fingers, “I’m done resting, Jake.”

Jake faced you, “You can still sleep. You love to sleep. You were always the last to wake up in the shack, remember?” He joked.

You scoffed, “That’s because I had a cripple underneath me who loved to snore.”

You hit him on the arm, and he gasped, pointing a finger at you warningly, laughing, “Hey, I’m not in a wheelchair anymore, so don’t start a fight you can’t finish.

“I kind of miss when you were in a wheelchair though. It was so much easier to make fun of you.” You retorted sarcastically.

Jake sucked a breath in through his teeth, and you surrendered, “I’m joking! I’m joking, okay? Don’t be mad. You know I’ve always respected my elders.”

Neytiri couldn’t help but laugh along with your joke, so entertained by the two of you as she watched you interact. Even Mo’at was smiling, her heart warmed at seeing Jake with you again, remembering his agonized desperation to revive you all those years ago.

The children were all watching from above, the oldest ones so baffled to see their father so carefree, but Tuk hardly noticed, her concern mainly being on you. Without another thought, Tuk ran off, making her way to the tent, all her siblings groaning as they followed her, calling her name.

Neteyam stopped Spider though, “Maybe you should stay behind bro. My father meant it when he said he did not want her near humans.”

“And that includes me?” Spider asked, hurt and offended.

“I’m sorry. It’s my dad’s orders.” He replied, patting Spider’s shoulders before running after his siblings.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Tuk said as she ran into the tent, and as you heard her voice, you crouched down -: she wrapped her arms around you sloppiy.

“Tuk be careful!” Neytiri scolded, worried about your shoulder.

You stood up, Tuk taking hold of your hand as she apologized, “Sorry,” Then gently, she pulled your hand forward, “Come on! You have to meet my sister... and Spider too!” Her excitement too great to remember what her father had asked.

Jake attemted to stop her, “Tuk no-”

But she had already led you out of the tent, everyone gathered in front of the entrance. Jake let out a sigh of relief seeing that Spider wasn’t with them. Since Tuk had given no context to who Spider was, you thought she was talking about some sort of pet, and you looked around for something on the ground before your eyes landed to the girl in front of you. Your face dropped as you looked at Kiri, the spitting image of Grace, so eerily similar that you felt as if you were looking at her ghost, your vision flashing between your memory of her and the reality of who was in front of you.

Kiri stepped forward, her own curiosity about you encouraging her words, “Hi, I’m Kiri. I’m Grace’s daughter.” She began nervously and you were even more shocked, her voice even holding the same intonations as Grace, the sound sending goosebumps down your spine.

The tears that had left you before arose again as you took in Kiri’s appearance, noticing immediately the necklace she had on her neck.

You inched closer, pointing at the necklace, “Your necklace. It was your mom’s.”

She put her hand over it, touching the pendant, “How did you know?”

“I made it for her when I first came to Pandora.” You explained, “She was teaching me how to speak Na’vi, so I gave her this, as a gift.”

You stepped backward, taking note of her age in your mind. She wasn’t that much older than you, and you were reeling, filing through all the scientific possibilities in your head.

You looked at Jake, your eyes begging for answers, “How is this possible? You told me that the Great Mother couldn’t save her.”

“Actually,” Kiri began, “I was hoping that maybe you would know.” She paused, gulping down her expectations as she tried to maintain her calm, “Do you know who my father is?”

Everyone’s eyes went to you, but you kept yours on Kiri, her eyes so desperate for an answer as she looked at you, like your mere existence could fill in the missing pieces that laid like stones in her heart.

You reached into the depths of your mind, the memories of every instance with Grace appearing before you, the last making you wince, the pain of remembering her death agonizing how you felt in front of Kiri. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your apology rang deeper than your ignorance of her conception. You stood in front of her knowing that she had no mother and that it was your father who had done that to her. You averted your eyes, taking refuge in staring at your fingers.

Kiri tried to hide how embarrassed she suddenly felt, her eyes downcast as she scolded herself for being so hopeful, “Oh. You don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay, really.”

You wanted to give her some comfort. You owed it to her and casting that horrible feeling aside, you put a hand on her shoulder.

“Look, I was brought back by science, but you weren’t, you couldn’t have been,” She looked up at you, her expression pleading for you to continue, “Your mother loved Pandora with everything she had, and if that love somehow made you, then you’re a miracle, something Grace’s science, my science can’t explain.”

Kiri felt a warmth bubble inside her at your words and she looked at you with a cherished gratefulness as she clasped her hands around yours, “Thank you.”

You smiled at her, squeezing her hand before letting go. You looked down at Tuk, “So...where’s Spider? Is he a pet or something?”

“I’m not a pet.” A voice spoke from behind you, and you turned your head.

Jake glared at Neteyam and Lo’ak, mouthing his disappointment, Neteyam giving his father an apologetic expression while Lo’ak hardly cared, pressing his lips together in feigned regret.

He jumped down from where he was, approaching you, his appearance baffling. He was human, blue stripes painted on his body, his hair shaped like a lion’s mane, and the only clothing he had on was a loin cloth, similar to Lo’ak’s.

“I’m Spider,” He said, crossing his arms, “Socorro.”

Socorro.

The name was littered between the grief and sorrow that laid within you since you had woken up, the name so deeply buried in your mind that its sudden rise gave way to a singular memory, your body frozen as your mind’s eye displayed it in front of you.

You felt as if you were really there, the smell of the base filling your nose. Your father was beside you with his arms crossed, and you were standing in front of an operating room, the iodine smell wafting out as the door opened.

When the doctor came out, his surgical gear bloodied from the procedure, he pulled his mask down, meeting your father with a smile, although your father didn’t return it.

His frown projected how he felt as the doctor announced, “It’s a boy, Colonel. You have a son.”

Uncrossing his arms, he looked into the operating room, Paz Socorro, one of the pilots in the regiment, lying in the bed holding her son, their son. Paz motioned for him to come in, but he had his feet planted on the ground, tearing his eyes away from Paz and toward the doctor, his eyes moving swiftly to you.

“I ain’t got a son, doc.”

You couldn’t remember much after that, but you did remember Paz, and not fondly. She held nothing against your father for rejecting Spider, too in love with him to bear any hostility. Instead, she focused her hatred on you, blaming you for what had happened. She hadn’t always been so cruel to you, but how could you put her at fault? You were the reason why Quaritch didn’t love his son.

“Are you okay?” Lo’ak asked, your blank stare giving way to the concern that was filling his heart.

“Y-yeah.” You looked back at Spider, just the sight of him pinching at your heart, “I’m y/n.” You paused, attempting to joke, “You definitely don’t look like a pet.”

“Thanks,” Spider replied, laughing.

You managed a smile at him, but Jake could see the pain in your eyes. Lo’ak had seen it too, recognizing it as the same face you had when your father was calling out for you. You had become scarily silent, so lost in the pain of that memory that when Jake put a hand on your back, you didn’t move, your breathing staggering as you stood.

Worried, Neytiri took you by the shoulders and in your daze, your feet moved on their own as she escorted you back into the tent.

They all attempted to follow but Jake put his hand up, glaring at his two sons, his anger showing in the ferocity of his whisper, “I asked you to do one thing. One thing.”

Spider, feeling the guilt rise in him, spoke, “No, Jake it was me. I didn’t listen.”

Jake closed his eyes, frustrated as he let a breath in, “Go to bed. All of you.”

“But dad-” Lo’ak pressed on, moving forward, but Jake outstretched his arm, blocking the way.

“Get to bed.” He repeated himself, the firmness in his tone making Lo’ak back away.

Mo’at, who had kept her ear open as she sat on the floor of the tent, ascended from her position, “Do as your father says, my grandson. You’ll get to see her soon enough.” She seemed to be hinting at something, and Lo’ak only half-caught on, still annoyed by his father.

“Let’s go.” Neteyam said to his siblings, and they all reluctantly followed.

Spider trailing behind them at first, but he stopped, the call of his dangerous curiosity influencing his steps back toward the tent. Spider had watched your reaction when he said his name, your face turning pale and your eyes going blank. You were remembering something, and he had to know what it was.

When Spider darted off, Lo’ak followed. “Spider!” Lo’ak called after him, “Wait up!”

Neteyam grunted in annoyance, “Kiri, take Tuk home please?”

She agreed as her brother ran, but Tuk refused, “I want to go with them!”

“Tuk no! Come back!” But Tuk had already let go of her sister’s hand, passing the many tents to catch up to her brothers, and with no other choice, Kiri hastened her pace chasing after her.

Lo’ak and Spider took to the top of the rock they were at earlier, eagerly listening to your conversation with Jake.

As Jake approached, he looked apologetic, “Look, I know how you must be feeling and-”

“Do you really, Jake?” You exploded, pushing him away from you as you pounded at your own chest, “Do you know how it feels to look your own brother in the eye and know that it was your fault he was orphaned?”

Jake fell silent, battered by your agonized rage.

“My father didn’t want him because he already had me. He picked me off the street on earth, but Spider is his flesh and blood,” Your voice was breaking, so disgusted by the words you were saying that you thought you could feel bile fill your throat, almost drowning you.

“Does he know? Does he know who his parents are?” You questioned, giving him an accusatory look.

“No,” Neytiri piped in, shaking her head.

You squinted your eyes at Jake, “How could you not tell him?”

“You know your father, y/n. Would you have told him?” Jake pleaded, wanting for you to understand his decision, “I thought he would be better off not knowing.”

You were wrong to do that, Jake. No matter how much of a monster Quaritch is, Spider deserved to know.”

Lo’ak watched as Spider took everything in, his face twisting and scrunching as he tried to convince himself that everything you said wasn’t true. All he ever knew was that his parents had died in the battle with the Sky People, and he always wondered, allowed himself to explore those curious thoughts that longed to know who his parents really were. But as he listened to you, every word that you spoke like a knife in his chest, inching and inching further and further into his heart, he wished he had just left well enough alone.

Inside of him, like a disease that seemed to invade his mind, he was overcome with envy, his mouth in a snarl as he looked at you in your Na’vi form, Neytiri next to you as she took your hand into hers and even Mo’at regarded you, her concern shown as she stepped forward too.

Everything he ever wanted you had.

You were one of The People, accepted by Neytiri and Mo’at, and even before he was born, you were inducted in worthiness, your legacy so grand, so perfect, that the father you shared didn’t even bother to try to love him.

Neteyam came up from behind them, placing his hands on both of their shoulders, distressed as he whispered, “You cannot be here. Dad will skin us if he finds out.”

Spider pushed Neteyam’s hand away, storming off. He looked at Lo’ak, astonished by Spider’s reaction and Lo’ak got up from his crouched position, running off in the direction Spider ran off to.

Tuk climbed up onto the rock, Kiri behind her, as she crouched beside Neteyam, whispering innocently to him, “What’s going on?”

Kiri gave her brother an apologetic, sheepish look, but he let out a long frustrated sigh, pinching his temples together in frustration and mentally scolding himself for not anticipating them. He got up, picking Tuk up and carrying her, Kiri beside him as they both ran off to catch up with Lo’ak and Spider.

He had run off toward where he slept, the quarters for both humans and avatars clustered between the rectangular metal sites, identical to the shack in the other part of the mountains.

Before they reached the perimeter of it, Lo’ak stopped him from continuing. “Spider!” Lo’ak taking hold of his arm, “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m not okay!” He pushed Lo’ak away, his breathing heavy as he said his thoughts aloud, spilling haphazardly in anger, “Did you not hear what she said? Everything I know is a lie! I thought that my parents had died for something right, but t-they were the enemy. My father killed Kiri’s mom and tried to destroy everything here.”

Kiri went to his side, kneeling down as she tried to calm him down, “You’re not him, Spider.”

Neteyam pushed for reason, abating how dumbfounded he felt hearing the truth, “Kiri is right and you cannot change the past. He’s your father.”

“And he’s her father too. Y/n is my sister, if I can even call her that,” Spider buried his face in his hands, so angry that he couldn’t help from tears falling down his face, “I’m nothing to him, just the son he never wanted, while she got to be his daughter. He chose her.”

“She couldn’t have wanted that for you, Spider. Did you not see how hurt she was over everything? You can’t blame her for what he did.” Lo’ak explained.

Spider scowled at him, “So you’d rather defend her than your best friend?”

“It’s not like that, okay? You don’t know her, Spider. You don’t know the whole story.” Lo’ak argued.

“Oh, and you do?” Spider inquired with fury in his eyes, “Whether I know her or not, it’s just like Neteyam said, it won’t change anything.” Too angry and too hurt, Spider left without another word.

Kiri stood up, her heart aching as she watched Spider go, Neteyam put a hand on her back, “You know him. He will cool off eventually.”

Tuk, who was confused about what was happening, agreed with Neteyam out of concern for Kiri, “Yeah, Kiri. Don’t worry.”

Kiri glared at Lo’ak, her own disdain showing in her voice, “How could you let him just listen to all of that? How could you not be more sympathetic toward his situation?”

Lo’ak argued back, just as fiercely as his sister, “He wanted to go on his own, okay? And besides, what should I have done? Hold his hand? I was trying to be reasonable, Kiri.”

He stepped forward, his voice stern, “Ask yourself this question, do you think it’s her fault? After everything you learned about her, after what she told you about your mom...do you think that Spider’s right for making her the bad guy? The bad guy is her father, the guy that would have killed Tuk and I if she wasn’t there.”

Lo’ak had so much more to say, the tension between him and his sister as she maintained her glare, her pride too great to admit that he was right.

Neteyam subdued the tension, interjecting as he stepped between them, “That’s enough. Let’s go home before dad notices.”

In his anger, Lo’ak had forgotten about his dad, “Ugh, dad’s gonna kill us when he finds out.” He groaned, dreading the long-winded lecture he knew was inevitable.

“No, he’s gonna kill you.” Kiri spat, her voice laced with attitude as she walked away.

“How much did he hear?” Jake was rubbing his forehead, agitated as his children were in front of him.

Lo’ak paused before responding, “All of it.”

“And where were you? I told you to take them home.” Jake asked his oldest son, so obviously disappointed from the way his voice cut so callously through the air.

“Sorry, sir.” Neteyam let out, his hands behind his back.

“Ma Jake. It has been a long day and the children must sleep.” Neytiri let out, keeping her voice mellow.

“I’ll deal with Spider tomorrow, alright?” Everyone nodded and Jake, satisfied, told them to get ready for bed.

Rolling out their mats, everyone quickly laid down, wanting to leave behind the heaviness of the day. Eventually, sleep overtook them all, but Lo’ak, who had tried so hard to succumb to that heaviness, couldn’t keep his eyes closed, his thoughts naturally wandering to you.

He couldn’t help it as he wondered if you were okay, wondering if you were sleeping too or lying awake like he was. Lo’ak couldn’t leave his inner questions unanswered and without hesitation, he slowly lifted himself up, quietly ascending and carefully stepping toward the entrance of their tent and slipping away.

He quickly made his way to the tent you were in and once he made it to the entrance, he pulled the curtain back slightly, peeking his head in, the light of a small candle illuminating the tent in a dim amber hue. He didn’t expect to find Mo’at there, still awake and seated on the floor in a meditative state.

Somehow, she didn’t even need to open her eyes to know that it was Lo’ak, talking quietly as she acknowledged him, “Why are you here, my grandson?”

Lo’ak walked through, closing the curtain and stepping forward, his eyes going to you in the hammock, and although you were lying down, you were wide awake, only pretending to be asleep. You were afraid to, expecting the nightmares to come again, and after the day that you had, you knew that they would be worse this time around.

And with those nightmares also came your infiltrating thoughts, thoughts consumed with problems that were ahead of you—your father, your brother, and your struggle with your new life—sleep couldn’t cure those problems, leaving you to feel guilty to even just rest.

But hearing Lo’ak come in distracted you, and you listened to him intently, focusing on him and the unusually long pause that occurred after Mo’at’s question. Lo’ak was thinking up an excuse, and in her curiosity, Mo’at opened her eyes.

Lo’ak was teetering on his heels and remembering you had given him those pictures, he pulled them out of his pocket, “Her pictures, I wanted to give them back.”

“Really?” Mo’at asked, raising an eyebrow, “Why do I feel as if you are here for more than that? You are concerned for her, no?”

Lo’ak didn’t have a response to her question, any words he was thinking of saying getting caught in his throat.

She looked behind her, her head still pivoted toward you as her eyes landed on her grandson, who had focused his gaze back on you. As if that didn’t make things any more obvious to Mo’at, she could sense his quickened heartbeat and his underlying nerves by her own motherly instinct.

Mo’at got up, a hand on her heart as she grinned at Lo’ak, her next words trusting in the voice that she felt in her soul, “Why don’t you watch her until morning for me? Your grandmother must sleep.”

“Really?” Lo’ak replied, his excitement bouncing off his final syllable.

She lowered her eyes at him, “Yes, but I can stay here if you do not wish to-”

“No, I’ll watch her. You go and rest.” He interrupted.

She put her hands on his shoulders affectionately, “Good, good. I will be back in the morning.”

When you two were finally alone, he placed your pictures neatly on the table before slowly and quietly making his way to you. He leaned against the wall, admiring you. Even in your other clothing, your appearance rugged from the forest and blood dripping from your wound, Lo’ak thought you were pretty. But in the candle light, you were luminous, its rays cascading its amber colors onto your skin, most of your body now exposed to drink up the hues.

You still had your eyes closed, and you could feel his eyes on you. You cleared your throat, startling him as you spoke, “I know you didn’t come all the way here just to stare at me.”

“Have you been awake this whole time?” Lo’ak asked, stunned.

You finally fluttered your eyes open, “I couldn’t sleep. So what’s your excuse?”

Lo’ak stood up, “Didn’t you hear? I wanted to give your pictures back, that’s why I came.”

He kept his tone as nonchalant as possible, despite how much he could feel his heart pounding against his chest and his palms becoming sweaty with how nervous you were really making him.

You still looked at him with a suspicious expression, “In the middle of the night?”

“They’re important to you, aren’t they?” Lo’ak scoffed, trying to keep his composure.

Everything he was saying was defying any reasonable logic, but you were amused by him, smiling as you walked over to the table, questioning him further, “So you woke up just to give me these?”

Lo’ak crossed his arms, dedicated to maintaining a cool demeanor as he responded, “Well, yeah, but my grandma asked me to watch you too,” He paused, watching your reaction as he took the opportunity to tease, “She’s an old woman, you know. She needs her sleep.”

Although you knew he was making excuses, you played along, “Are you always this thoughtful or are you trying to impress me?”

He circled around you, his gaze fixated on you as he took a seat in the hammock, laying his back into it and resting his hands beneath his head, “Why? Are you into it?” He genuinely wanted to know, his eyes glinting with a ferocious curiosity.

You couldn’t take him seriously though, laughing as you approached, taking a seat beside him, “You’re in my spot.”

He put a hand on his chest, fake pouting, “And you don’t want to share? After I interrupted my perfectly good night to come here?”

You let a breath out, and to his surprise, you actually did lie down next to him, so unconcerned as you carelessly let your arms and legs touch his, the feeling igniting his cool skin.

“You’re lying.” You said, “Come on, why are you really up?”

Lo’ak gulped, adjusting himself slightly to give you more room, but you stayed still, only moving your head to look at him. Your foreheads weren’t even touching, but they might as well have, the effect of your proximity creating a tension that only Lo’ak seemed to notice.

Even though he was curious, he didn’t bring anything up about your old life, about Spider, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. Lo’ak found refuge in the ceiling as he responded, “I couldn’t sleep. I was too busy worrying about you.”

He glanced back at you, looking for a specific reaction in your eyes, hoping that you were feeling the same tension he was. You seemed immune to his continuous charms as your gaze gave him no indications, unreadable as you simply listened to him, your expression as calm as before. But you did feel it, unsure of what it was and unsure of how to react to it, having never felt anything like it before.

He suddenly felt awkward, clearing his throat, “So what about you? Why aren’t you sleeping? You can tell me…or don’t. Whatever you want.”

For a moment you hesitated, not wanting to share your troubles with him, to burden him with that unbearable weight. But Lo’ak had managed to make you feel lighter and you somehow found yourself talking to him easily.

“Nightmares.” You let out, “I always had nightmares when I lived on the base, but when I moved to the shack with your dad and everyone, they stopped.” You paused, “I guess I’ve still got my old habits wired in this new brain.”

“Well, not all your old habits,” Lo’ak began slowly, adjusting himself and giving you his full attention as he turned, “You know, I never thanked you for saving me, for protecting Tuk, so thank you.”

You did the same, shifting yourself as you looked at him, “You know, it’s weird. All of you have no problem seeing me as one of you, but I’m still having a hard time believing it.”

I’ve lived here my whole life, and I still have a hard time too.” Lo’ak held his hand up, wiggling his fingers, “Ketuwong, alien—it’s all they see, even though everyone denies it. “

You softened your expression, saddened by how he had said it, his voice desperately wanting to sound detached, indifferent to the problem, but despite how hard he tried to mask how he felt, you saw right through his attempt at apathy.

You held your hand up, aligning your fingers and touching your palm to his, “It’s okay. That means we match.”

Lo’ak’s mouth parted in surprise before he quickly pressed his lips together into a smile, not one of his usual smirks, but a real one, one he rarely ever showed, “Yeah, we do.”

You hardly realized the implications of what he said, your mind rationalizing it as your heart acted on its own, beating rapidly, so moved by the way your hands touched and the way he was smiling at you. Everything stirring inside of you felt like uncharted territory, the matters of the heart having never been traversed by your soul.

Yet, that territory did not resemble harsh landscapes or scary, rocky heights. It felt more like you were crossing through the bluest and calmest of waters, freely flowing and fluidly ferrying those feelings in you, easing and rocking them as they slowly settled within. And while you eased into those affections slowly, Lo’ak didn’t have to. He knew exactly how he felt about you, and he felt confident in his ability to make you realize the potential of your growing connection.

You retracted your hand slowly, resting it on your chest as you looked at the ceiling again, a blush settling on your cheeks. You both found yourselves in comfortable silence for a moment, peace finding the both of you just as it had when you were lying on the grass in the forest. Lo’ak was thinking of something to talk about, wanting to take your mind off of the nightmares and what had happened earlier that day.

His mind finally settled on a question and shifting his gaze from the ceiling to you he began, “So, what are you…” His voice quickly trailed off when he saw your eyes were closed.

You had fallen asleep.

He couldn’t believe it, and since you had fooled him once before, he uttered your name in a faint whisper, to which you held no response to, only breathing steadily as you laid still. Lo’ak felt the heaviness of his own eyes, but waited to fall asleep for as long as he could, ready to be there for you if the nightmares crept up in your mind again.

But they never did.

You awoke as light peeked through the tent, the rays from the sun infiltrating the space and signaling the morning’s arrival. You didn’t want to open your eyes, too comfortable in the position you were in. It wasn’t until you felt slight movement from next to you and the touch of a hand around your waist that you finally opened your eyes. You were lying on your side and looking over your shoulder, you found Lo’ak, still sleeping, his arm comfortably snaked around your waist and his other one positioned where your head had been.

You put your hand over your mouth, shocked and wondering how you let yourself fall asleep with him last night. Carefully, you tried to lift Lo’ak’s arm from your waist, but the movement only made him pull you in closer, the feel of his breath sending goosebumps down your spine as your back hit his chest. You tried again with a little more force and you were finally able to slip out from underneath him, lightly touching your feet onto the ground as you cautiously looked back at him, making sure he was still asleep.

To your relief, he was, and you wasted no time walking out of the tent, pulling the curtain back quickly and shutting it. You let a breath out, patting your cheeks and closing your eyes as you tried to process what had happened, trying to distract yourself from the scene in front of you. Life was already active in the camp as you saw everyone begin their daily routines, warriors already meeting, families preparing meals for their families, bundles of materials being carried around between women and men, and lastly you saw the very few children wandering, their eyes still tired as they yawned.

“I assume you slept well in my grandson’s arms?” Mo’at spoke from the right of you, the suddenness making you jump.

You felt your cheeks turn pink, your eyes darting to her. You greeted her properly, touching your hand to your forehead and extending it to her as she did the same.

Seeing the slight panic in your eyes, she put a hand up to reassure you, “Do not worry my child. I only tease.”

Her idea of a joke made you feel queasy with nervousness as you let out a weak laugh, “Ah, you’re funny Mo’at.”

She had her hands clasped together, an amused smile on her face, “But I am right, no? You were able to sleep.”

You scratched your head, looking away from her, “I was sleeping before Lo’ak got there.”

She raised an eyebrow at you, “You did a poor job fooling me.”

You gasped, “You knew the whole time? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Sometimes silence is better than talk.”

She looked back at the tent, placing a hand on the curtain as she pulled it back, revealing Lo’ak, still soundly asleep, “But, it was not my silence that calmed your heart, was it?”

You turned violently pink as you struggled to respond to her, “Well-I mean-I-”

“Do not worry. This will be our secret.” Mo’at whispered.

In her excitement, she was getting ahead of herself, spewing her words out with pride, “But, do not hold shame over this, y/n. My grandsons are the most handsome of all the men here. If you realize you are not too fond of Lo’ak, then I’m sure Neteyam would be very good for you.”

You still didn’t know what to say, your mouth parting to speak, but no words falling out. Your shock only allowed you to nod, as you barely even registered what she had said, your mind and heart racing to catch onto the words to understand their heft.

She gave you a pleased smile, putting an affectionate hand on your cheek before she drew the curtain fully, the pouring light from the entrance into the entire tent, the abruptness of sunshine instantly stirring Lo’ak awake.

Rubbing his eyes, Lo’ak sat up and Mo’at approached him, her hands clasped together, “I suggest that you run back home Lo’ak before you get into more trouble.”

Planting his feet on the ground he stood, grunting, “I’m always in trouble, grandma.”

He looked over to where you were, and when you made eye-contact, Lo’ak smirked, “At least this time, it’ll be worth it.”

Author’s Note

My lovers,

Okay so many things happened but round of applause for mo’at, your biggest shipper ~ SHE IS PLAYING HER GRANDMA DUTIES WELL

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! PLEASE let me know what you thought of it in the comments! I really love reading your predictions and how you felt :)

~ ~ I hadn’t originally planned on putting Spider in my story, but I wanted to add more depth to the reader’s arc and intertwine their fates together— Spider who desperately feels like he belongs and tries so hard, and then there’s YOU who didn’t even try at all to be one of The People and has already been accepted even though you still feel like you don’t deserve to. I just couldn’t resist it :)

again thank you all SO MUCH for taking the time to read my story and for leaving such wonderful comments and just showing your love on here!

i never expected anyone to even read any of my work and as more of you become part of my lovers clan i just feel like crying cause i just love you all so much !!

love,

nana <3

taglist [tumblr wouldn’t let me tag some of the blogs, but i didn’t want to leave anyone out!] :

@fifty-shades-of-mischeif @pretty-npeach @tonni30 @itsemy01 @23victoria @soobinsrose @starjane312 @valentineoxox @justlillythinking @mae-is-crazy @scarletrosesposts@paniniii @bloodyziggy @mister-police @mrs-sullys-blog @niiight-dreamerrrr @promiseofeywa @wilmalovegood @sssspencerrr @mochi-yu @d4rno @lovekeeho @dreama-little-dreamof-me @strawberryclouds22@tsunchani @sully-stick-together @scarletrosesposts @local-mr-frog @pirana10 @usernumder67 @im-kai-scotty @mae-is-crazy @ghoulbli @devil-on-acid @neteyamoa @iamparou @nightfalldia @a-queen-blr @aeclark041-blog1@justpassinbxx @mochi-yu @persondoingstuff @melatonindaydreamz @ducks118 @macncheese69420666 @rotten-toenails @rikidaily @extreamlycutecuban @iizx7y @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @lovekeeho @spicycloudsalad @perfectprofessorloverapricot @kind45 @skyri-revia22@blueblushedflwr @neteyamslovr @coldlamaspersonspy @jayinthecloset @lunamochii @littlethingsinlife @ok-boke @donaldsmac @slut4sluttybooks @zatarias-pandora @bol0-de-morang0 @dakotali @bajadotcom @bitchyzombienacho @siriusblackwh0re @wadiyatalkinabeetmate @eggyongies @galaxyfruits @kiricomics @fireflystoughts ��@reallysparklychaos @bwormie @fireflystoughts @kiricomics @n1ght5h4d3-24 @tojigirl @jiminparkk @larkkyoris @detectivesparrow @simp-erformarvelwomen @fairygirl-222 @kolsmikaelson @skyri-revia22 @junnniiieee07 @ashrocker123 @sassy-persona @chantelle-mh @https-izuku @kaealowri @sunsents @galacticstxrdust @graykageyama @liyahsocorro @aysenademir @k----a27s

@glitter-in-my-heroin @kirikuki @katkat1918 @0-0h-0 @imthefunniestpersonalive @my-name-duh @mayabritjohn @annoyingstrawberryballoon @sometimesminsan @pearlrosegardener @aestheticcraze @animetrash12 @sbfandom @hrlzy @vhobuu @urforevermore @larkkyoris @usersjs-world @vampsclassiffied @razor-blayde @doromoni @lizzyloo22 @jimfiqs @hunylew @dreamergirljen @champagnelovers101 @di0nlurking @sleepyharuka @dani111@nisha-potter@kaealowri@goddesslilithmoriarty@zilena9 @neteyamforlife

#avatar way of water #avatar fanfiction #avatar x reader #avatar #avatar loak #loak angst #loak fic #loak x reader #loak fluff #loak x you #nanasavatarfics #nanasilwefic!

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soulc-hilde · 6 months ago

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Game Shakers / Ch. 2

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

Pairing: Eminem x OFC

Warning(s): Cursing, Drug Abuse, Racial Discrimination, Sexual Assault, more may be on the way as the story progresses

Summary: 2000s is quite the highlight between the fashion and rise of pop culture. Seemingly the new faces of shock value, rapper Marshall Mathers and rockstar King Woods finds a common ground amongst the unnecessary bullshit.

A/N: Sorry for the late update! I'm rediscovering my urge to write as I work back to back and get paperwork ready to prepare for college. It feels like life is slowly coming together, I just need a damn car. Y'all got chapter 1 to 32 likes and 3 reblogs... is my writing that good or are we all in desperate search for Eminem fanfic? Much love, though!

Standing on the carpet of the VMAs, Marshall and an excited Deshaun pose beside of the rookie's mentor, Dr. Dre. Finishing a couple of photo-ops, they were guided down the carpet. As Marshall clenched on his gum, anxiety gnawing at his mind, Deshaun was studied the face of every celebrity he knew.

"Yo, Doody, this is crazy man," he laughs. "I can't believe that we're really here." Marshall hums, "I can't believe how crowded this bitch is." Dre shakes his head, "don't stress, this will all end soon once we get inside the venue."

Deshaun looks down at the now bleach blond rapper, "you think those girls are gonna be here, man?" Marshall kisses his teeth, "they have to be, I read on the call sheet that they were listed to perform or some shit."

Andre raises an eyebrow, "who y'all whispering about, looking like some mean ass gossip girls?" Marshall smirks, "you ever heard of that new band, The Hydez?" The older rapper's face scrunches at the band name, "uh... who?"

"It's a band with these five girls, only one of them is white, and are covered in tattoos--" Andre's face drops in recognition, "oh! Nevermind, I know. I know who're talking about now. What, you got a little crush or somethin', Slim?"

Deshaun laughs, "more like that boy's in love with the lead, King. Once they talked during Warped Tour, he was hooked on her." Rather than snapping back, Marshall side-eyes his friend.

"Fuck both of y'all, man," the blond rolls his eyes, walking down the carpet. The others following, throwing out a joke here and there, when a reporter strikes her mic out desperately.

"Eminem, quick question," she blurts, "are you and The Hydez leader, King Woods, dating? What of your wife?" The three rappers freeze, flabbergasted at the onslaught of questions.

Marshall clears his throat for a second before stepping closer to her, "excuse me?" The woman repeats herself, "are you and King Woods dating?" The blond raises a brow, "no, we ain't. Where'd you get that from?"

"Well, just a few minutes ago, I had simply asked her and the rest of The Hydez about you and they just, like, flipped out on me," she snorts, "I don't know why she became so defensive over me asking about you, but it was a little suspicious, wouldn't you say?"

Marshall hums, "yeah... yeah, um, what was it that you asked them about?" A bit of irritation was rising in the back of his mind, he didn't expect a lot of positives to come from the whole spotlight shit but he at least thought that King and her friends were genuine people.

"I just simply wondered if you were the person others say that you are, you know like violent towards women, vulgar," she lists, "I was just asking the real questions. It was them who kept calling you all types of names like skittles and tiny ass--"

Marshall shakes his head, "le'me stop you right there, sweetheart. You was just sniffing around, asking questions about me to other people and they flipped. How about you do your job and ask about people's career instead of digging for dirt, have a nice night."

The three walk away, leaving the woman in disbelief. Deshaun looks back at the woman with a confused smile, "the fuck was that all about?" Marshall shrugs, "turns out everybody wants to know if I'm as vulgar or violent as my lyrics."

"And what does that have to do with The Hydez?" Andre glances at him in confusion as well. Reaching inside the venue, Marshall smiles, "King chewed that curious bitch the fuck out." Andre and Deshaun share a knowing glance.

Andre rubs at his forehead, "and she does know that you're married, right?" Marshall nods, "sure does. Besides, she told me that she's not interested in anything outside of her music. I can't say I blame her."

"Damn straight, you can't," Deshaun sasses as they find their seats and sit down.

The award show begins, the venue going dark as the stage lights set off. Throughout the show, he watched as stars strutted across the stage presenting awards and performing for the masses. Faces he's seen on the television from the kitchen of his old job and new ones that were scheduled to officially debut, much like him.

Every time his face appeared on the massive screen as a nominee for a selection of categories, his jaw clenches with anticipation. If he thought signing with Dre and putting out the EP was a nerving wreck, it doesn't compare to his first award. If he could win at least one award, he could take it as his moment of truth to flash his winning in the face of those who lacked faith.

So far, he's won Best New Artist which was unreal to him. "Was this supposed to happen?" He questioned in the mic, unsure that his name was chosen and written on the card.

Getting his name etched into the award, he returns to his seat with an exhilarating tremble in his step. Sitting down, he meets eyes with a smirking King who simply sent a nod his way before turning to face the stage once again.

As the show moves on, he solely tunes in whenever his name or the band, The Hydez, were mentioned. So far, the girls won their second award of the night for Best Rock Video and Best Group Video. They also took home the awards for Best Editing and Best Special Effects.

Closer to the last few minutes of Britney and NSYNC's performance, a stagehand signals for The Hydez to follow after her. Perking up in his seat, his eyes were attentive to the stage as the night was reaching its final round. Stone Cold Steve Austin introduces the band and the lights dimmer more than before.

"You excited to see your girlfriend?" Proof teases. Marshall simply side-eyes with a smirk.

The starting piano plays for 'In The End,' a green light takes over the stage as Harley starts to rap her verse in the mic as King sings her adlibs. In contrary to their carpet outfits, the group appeared far more casual while dawning their usual black get up.

The redheaded leader bounces across the stage alongside her members as the lights flicker every time the chorus hits. Engaging with the audience, the crowd of fans belt the lyrics. Marshall slightly nods his head along with the music, enamored by the abrupt energy shift from the likes of the pop star barbies.

The lights complimented her barely finished sleeve tattoo and burnt orange curls, the sliver piercings that accessorized her face created a tug in his gut. She was just ethereal and dark, it intrigued him. Once Marshall becomes interested in something, he never lets go.

2019 - Interview

"Would you say that the VMAs was the start of the infamous Eminem and King pairing that we know of today?"

Marshall nods, rubbing his shaved chin, "yes. Meeting her at Warped Tour, I saw her as this crazy friend but seeing the trance she could put people in with her music, I guess I had developed a bit of an admiration for her."

"Did you expect yourself to fall in love with King? How did you deal with shifting from being married to being single with those thoughts?"

Marshall leans forward to grab a bottle of water, "I more so dreamed than strived to fall in love with her. I believed that she was far out of my league and divorcing from Kim made it a bit harder for me to see myself as boyfriend material for her."

Taglist: @slytherinroyalty16

Series Masterlist

#eminem fanfic #eminem x reader #eminem imagine #eminem #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers fanfic #slim shady

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bolinhoelriel · 2 months ago

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"Sarah J. Maas is a fated mates author! Azriel and Elain will not end up together because they aren't mates!"

Oh, is that it?

So why she wrote two fae who are not mates acting like they are in heat and longing with only the thought and touch of each other? Isn't it reserved only for mates?

And why she wrote the characters questioning about the mating bond so often and clearly?

Why she wrote a tension increasing book after book, chapter after chapter, and making the readers ask themselves if there is something wrong with the Cauldron's mating bond, and why these two can't be together if they want each other?

Why the female doesn't give a fuck about her mate? Why she shrinks from him? Why he doesn't understand her? Why he compares her to his ex-lover? Why she feels a pull on her rib instead of a bridge between her soul and his? Why are they so far away from each other if mates can't stand being away? Why she is just fine feeling desire for other male while her mate is just upstairs? Why she gifted other male with so much thought? Why she was the one who made the other male laugh loud with so much joy for the first time? Why she thinks the other male is more attractive than her mate? Why she feels more comfortable around the other male? Why she feels the need to brush hands and change meaningful glances with the other male?

Why the male who isn't her mate understands her deeply? Why he found out what was making her depressed and stressed and was the one who freed her from her pain? Why he was the only one who came for her in a bloody war? Why he felt she was the only one besides him who could handle his legendary knife? Why this scene would be highlighted and marked in the main character's mind and be so beautifully described? Why he was the one who spent the whole night hearing her talking about her gardening plans instead of her mate? Why he feels annoyed and impatient when it's his supposed "mate" talking a lot? Why he feels the urge to protect her, help her and feels worried about her all the time? Why he feels ready for a blood duel for her? Why he moved on from his 500 years old love when he started to get closer to her? Why she is always on his mind when he is alone at his home and touches himself at the thought of her? Why he is capable of smelling her bond with her mate and he can't stand it? Why her own scent is so madly good to him? Why he is feeling insomnia, grumpy and sad when he can't be around her while her mate is just fine in other continent? Why he would fight with his boss/brother for her and don't follow his orders?

Why he would question his own faith for her?

What the fuck would this be then?

Hard to answer, huh?

#elriel #pro elriel

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ghoulsgraveyard · 2 years ago

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Wear Them. 1/3

Eddie has a nasty habit of stealing panties. What happens when he has to use them for their intended purposes? Content warnings: feminization (reader calls Eddie a girl), panty theft (obvi), subsequent panty wearing, perv!eddie, degradation (the fun kind), fem!reader, reader has a vagina, sub!eddie, dom!reader, slut shaming but also virgin shaming (it makes sense don’t worry), some light cock and ball torture (genital slapping), emotional hurt/comfort (I dont know how that happened it just did) aftercare!

A/N: I did this instead of catching up on my coursework <3 also! not all warning will apply in this chapter.

Eddie Munson knew he was a pervert. He did his best to hide it, wanting to keep the rumors of his sexual deviancy just that; rumors. He leaned into it a little bit, but in the same theatrical way he entertains all the rumors surrounding him, exaggerating to highlight the ridiculous nature of them, he just hoped no one would notice the way he seemed more cautious about this one than the others.

It was easy enough to hide at first. After all his …urges were more theoretical. It was about the concepts and scenarios for him, there was never a face or a name attached to the bodies in his fantasies. While this eased his guilt, he always felt sorta empty? Like the whole situation was hollow and unfinished (how ironic considering the state of his bed sheets)

But then he met you, and things got a lot harder, in more ways than one. You were hot. There was no way around it. But Eddie had dealt with hot people before, what killed him was that he interacted with you. A lot. Because not only were you hot, you were also funny, and nice to him, and you were a total dork like him. How insane is it that a hot girl who plays dnd not only exists but talks to him… willingly!

Still, in the beginning it wasn’t too bad, when you brushed up against him and he shivered he could blame it on his body’s reaction, it had nothing to do with him and nothing to do with you as an individual! Yep! Nothing at all. Just bodies being bodies. Until you didn’t have to touch him to get a reaction, hell you didn’t even have to look at him. Rolling dice wasn’t sexy until you did it, and suddenly he was aware of how your body shook with the motion of your hands, the way the recoil made your tits bounce just a little, the way your lips were pursed as you released the plastic and goddamnit Eddie’s hard at the table. Drinking beer wasn’t sexy until you were at a party, bottle in hand, Eddie was very aware of that hand, the curvature as it wrapped around the shape, how it looked when you raised the bottle to your lips, holy fuck your lips, pursed around the rim of the bottle, the way your throat moved as you swallowed, he nearly came when some dripped out of the sides and you wiped up the excess with your thumb, popping it in your mouth.

He had it bad for you. And it only got worse. Once you gave Eddie a scrunchie to hold his hair back during a test, which later that night he had pressed to his nose so he could smell your shampoo while he desperately fucked his hand. Another time when you were smoking some ash fell on your shirt, burning it, Eddie, ever the gentleman, offered you one of his shirts he didn’t expect for you to change in front of him, then the sight of you in his clothes? He almost popped the button off his jeans with how hard he got.

But the worst of it? The time you two were at skull rock, on top of a sizable boulder, you were wearing this short skirt, and you needed help down after getting higher than intended, and as he was helping you slide down to safety, your skirt rode up, giving Eddie just a flash of your black lacy panties. That was what pushed him off the deep end.

He felt awful, disgusting and horrible everytime you hung out at your house and he snatched a pair of your underwear from your laundry hamper when you went to the bathroom. He was your friend, you trusted him! How could he do this to you? How could he be such a bad boy, so dirty, you should punish him for being so bad and dirty, you should slap him and call him names and and somehow all of Eddie's guilt always morphed into lust. He was wrong and he was filthy but he couldn’t stop, or maybe it just felt too good. Either way your panties were Eddie's new drug of choice. He’d lick the crotch, thinking about how in a way it was an indirect kiss, he’d moan at the remaining taste. He’d shove them to his nose, smelling your musk as he fucked his hand, thinking about you sitting on his face. He’d shove them in his mouth pretending you put them there as a makeshift gag while you punished him. He’d wrap them around his cock and jerk off, desperately humping the fabric. Then he’d cum in them.

He had this fantasy where after he soiled your panties, he’d find a way to get them back to you, and somehow you don’t notice his dried spend hardening the crotch of them and you’d put them on. He knows you would notice of course you would, but the thought of his cum against your cute pussy all day long with you clueless to the debauched state of your underwear made him delirious. Of course Eddie never returned your panties; he worked too hard to get them and would risk too much giving them back. He kept them in a shoebox under his bed. That same box that held the scrunchies you had given him, a travel size bottle of the lotion you use and some dirty pictures he managed to sneak of you. He was horrible, he disgusted himself, but not enough to change his behavior.

So he kept his habits hidden as best he could, he would be the best, most normal friend to you with zero ulterior motives as to why he preferred your house to his, he would never let you find out about that box under his bed.

You knew, of course. You weren’t an idiot. It was kind of cute? The way he thought he was being sneaky. The way he believed you didn’t notice the clicks of a camera while you changed, or how he thought you were oblivious to your missing panties and the convenient timing of when they disappear, or how he thought he was slick when eyeing your boobs. Of course you knew, you left the curtains open and lit the room well enough for him to take those pictures, you left your used underwear on top of your hamper, you chose low cut tops when you knew you were hanging out. You orchestrated every step and smiled to yourself at his naivety, he truly thought he was that good! But you were getting a bit bored, you kept baiting him but he never made a move. Guess you’d have to continue doing everything.

Heading over to Eddie's trailer at any time would give you a good shot at catching him masturbating, but a Friday night after hellfire? When he had spent the past few hours in close proximity with you, he had a perfect view at your chest and he could practically smell your shampoo from his throne, he was fired up and had the trailer to himself, what else was he going to do?

He was in the process of working himself up, taking it slower, he wanted to savor the experience, placing the shoebox on his bed he grabbed the newest pair of panties he had taken from you, he hadn’t gotten to play with this pair yet and could feel his lower belly burn with excitement. The underwear was a white lacy thong, it had a cut bow at the top, the crotch of the panties themselves were smaller than he usually likes but he could forgive it because the fabric tapered into a g-string. It was positively sinful and contrasted with the cute bows and innocent color deliciously. He grabbed the bottle of your lotion and applied a small amount to his right hand wanting it to last, as he rubbed it in he grabbed some lube. He muttered to himself trying to get lost in a fantasy but none really came to mind. Whatever, he can brainstorm while touching himself.

Lost in thought Eddie didn’t pick up on the sound of the spare key turning in the lock, he didn’t hear the click of the door shutting, with his eyes fluttering shut he didn’t see your shadow in his hallway, and he didn’t hear the whine of his door opening. He did, however, hear you clear your throat. His eyes shot open in terror, dread filled him as he took in your frame, standing in his room, looking directly at him. He scrambled to cover himself but he knew it was too late, you had seen him. The damage was done. He wanted to disappear. This was the nightmare scenario he would give anything for the earth to swallow him whole. The ringing in his ears was so loud, but your voice cut through it with four words that filled him with shame“whatcha got there Eddie?” your tone was taunting, knowing. You wanted him to admit it. Eddie’s eyes were wide, his face flushed in shame and his mouth gaping, opening and closing. “Well?” you continued. Eddie whimpered in shame then found his voice “I-I'm so unbelievably sorry oh my god I hate myself for doing this I just- I can’t- there's no excuses and I know that what I've done is unforgivable I just- I'm so so sorry- I can’t- I” his voice shook the whole time, then broke with the dam in his eyes, fat tears rolled down his cheeks “I'm so sorry” he gasped and sobbed, shivering and repeating how sorry he was.

This was not how you expected him to react. In your mind Eddie would’ve paused then kept going and you would work from there. You realize now how much of his cockyness and theatrics were a farce. You felt terrible watching him sob and shiver on his bed. “Oh baby” you sat on the bed and hushed him “baby I'm not mad it’s okay” you cooed at him, pulling him closer to you “please don’t cry for me baby I didn’t mean to hurt you” you lightly rocked him back and forth as you tried to soothe him, he hiccuped in your arms, then looked up at you with wide wet eyes “y-you’re not?” his voice was so small and scared you just melted “no sweetie I'm not mad at all, I'm sorry for making you sad little one” it didn’t matter that Eddie was both taller and older than you, the way you spoke so softly to him and how you held him so gently he glowed at the name, he sniffled “not sad” you cocked your head, he continued “not sad, just embarrassed” he mumbled. That eased your fears, he was okay, just spooked. “Eddie you don’t need to be embarrassed” at that he sat up and wiped his face “I find it very hard to believe that I'm not supposed to be embarrassed after being walked in on by you while I was masturbating with your panties next to a box full of incriminating evidence that I'm a stalker pervert creep.” he choked up again, after you just stopped him from crying!

Trying to deescalate again you moved to follow him on the other side of the bed, and you held his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you “Eddie I need you to believe me when I say that it’s okay. I'm not mad at you, and you shouldn’t be embarrassed” he opens his mouth to cut you off but you silence him “don’t talk over me. I'm about to explain a lot and I need you to listen to me and hear me, okay baby?” he nodded slowly “I've known. The whole time. Before the whole time actually.” his eyes widened in panic “ah ah ah! Listen to me. I've known even before you started that collection because I'm the one who set it up, okay?” he furrowed his eyebrows, thoroughly confused “I'm smart Eddie, or at the very least I spend a lot of time thinking about you. So I noticed pretty quick. I started wearing lower cut tops after I noticed you staring. I let you borrow my polaroid and left my curtains open while changing, I gave you scrunchies despite seeing the hair tie on your wrist, and let me let you in on something here: A girl doesn’t leave her used panties in plain sight while having a boy over unless she wants him to see them, and I didn’t leave the room thinking you wouldn’t grab them. Eddie none of this has been a coincidence.”

Instead of feeling better, Eddie just felt worse at this revelation, dread filling him as he moved back from you, fear grasping him. “So then why did you do it?” he whispered. You were confused, you thought you made it pretty clear “what?” you wanted clarification. Eddie continued, voice rising in volume “why did you do it? Was this like an elaborate prank? You’re gonna tell the whole town now how Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson is also a sexual deviant? Is that it? Or maybe it’s not that maybe this was just funny to you? Was that it? Were you just stringing me along as a joke?” he had never felt more vulnerable in his life.

His greatest fears laid out in his nightmare scenario while he was naked under the eyes of the girl he was in love with. You felt a hurt pang in your chest, Eddie had been the butt of so many jokes he can’t comprehend a situation where someone wants him. “Eddie, that’s not it at all. I- well I don’t really know how to say this but I like you. Like a lot” he whipped around to look at you “this isn’t funny.” you held his face “I'm not joking.” his face was smooshed in your hands and his big eyes were full of wonder “Eddie I like you so much I didn’t even consider the possibility of you not knowing or you thinking I don’t want you. Because I do. I want you so much it makes me crazy. I am so attracted to you it’s not even funny” Eddie was bewildered “wait, what?” you smiled “you’re so unbelievably sexy I don’t even know what to do with myself eddie” he shook his head “no, no way, there’s no way you like me” but despite his words the small smile on his face indicated a bit of hope, so you kept going “oh I'm crazy about you, you’re all I think about. However much you got off on the things I gave you, I got off like, twice as much at the thought of you using them” he laughed “I'm serious ed! I would think about every night when I touched myself, the idea of you in your bed getting off to me? I was a whining wreck in my bed before I could even get my pants off" Eddie whimpered at the thought “y’know I would pick them out too. Whenever you came by, the day before I would pick out a pair I thought you would like the most” Eddie swallowed hard “I- I did. Like them I mean. Um a lot, I uh like them a lot you did a uh good job picking them because I- yeah. I really really uh liked them all” he was flustered. It was adorable.

You started moving towards him, slinking like a predator towards prey “I'm glad you liked them baby. I would think about you using them all the time. I would look at your hands when you talked – you're so expressive baby, always talking with you hands– and I would think about what your hands looked like holding my panties, or how your fist would look wrapped around your cock.” he whined high in his throat as you played with his hands “then I would look right at your lips while you were talking and I thought about what your face would look like as you came, or how swollen your lips would get, what you would sound like in bed. You wanna know what I thought about the most though baby?” he nodded quickly, you leaned in, lips brushing his ear “I thought a lot about what I would do if I had you cornered caught in the act with my panties. And what I would do to you with them.” you pulled back, elaborating “I'm sure you’ve done all the standard stuff, sniffing them, rubbing yourself on them, licking them, shoving them in your mouth, and that’s all well and hot but what I think is sexiest about you and my panties?” you leaned in close to him, lips brushing his, nervous to reveal your most lustful fantasy “the intended use.” you whisper against him.

Eddie has no idea what the fuck that means. He can’t think he can barely breathe, he crushes your lips against his instead. It was desperate and sloppy and messy, with too much tongue and too much spit and too much everything but it was Eddie's first kiss. And it wasn’t enough. You straddled him, grabbing and pulling his hair, he moaned at the feeling “you like that baby? You like how I pull your hair and move you around for me? You’re real pretty when you go just where I put you” Eddie keened at the praise, back arching up as you pulled away from him grabbing the discarded underwear from earlier" I really like this pair baby, it’s real nice don't you think?” you said, holding them up against you, Eddie nodded quickly “uh-uh-huh! Real nice really -really pretty like em a lot” you smiled at how eager he was “I like em a lot too baby, they’re so pretty with the lace and the bows, I'm almost sad I won't get to wear them again.” Eddie was immediately confused. “wha-why not?” you smiled at him sweetly “because Eddie, you’re gonna stretch ‘em out too much for me to wear” he cocked his head at you.

You flicked the panties at his chest “you wanted them so bad. Wear them.”

part two out now!

#eddie munson #sub!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #sub!eddie munson x dom!reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #perv!eddie #perv!eddie x reader #perv!eddie x perv!reader #stranger things x reader #x reader smut #Smut #pathetic Eddie #he's like a wet dog in this I can't get enough of him #my works

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allmyocsarebritish · 7 months ago

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Kiss, Maime, Kill - Chapter 2: The Louisiana Butcher

Pairing: Alastor X killer! fem reader

Warnings!!!: Reader is a serial killer, convinced she is in the right, descriptions of murder, it goes without saying but I really don't condone this, Al's surname in this is Altruist cause it's even more ironic, but yes I know that's not canon

Wordcount: 1k

1928

Louisiana, New Orleans

The partnership you forged with Alastor woke something inside you. In the year that had passed, you felt alive; quite possibly more so than you had in your whole existence. Killing became even more of a thrill, something you had previously thought to be impossible. But with someone to share in the sadistic glee, it was only natural you'd be even more enthralled with the act of slaughter. How strange it was to dream whilst awake.

Murder aside, Alastor himself was truly something else. He understood your twisted mind in ways you never thought would be possible, always reassuring and calm, even in the face of utmost danger. You became close, closer than you were to anyone else, a strong friendship that broadened beyond the constraints of a mere work acquaintanceship.

Therefore, the once fortnightly affair of serial killing became more frequent as time progressed. And, proportional to the increase in your escapades was the time in which the two of you spent together outside of 'work'. Long, leisurely strolls through the park as he rambled became the highlight of your day. There was something about Al's voice that soothed you; there was a good chance that you were the top listener to his radio show, tuning in daily and without fail.

Sitting by the radio, warm mug of coffee in hand, you fiddled with the dials, the exact pattern to Alastor's show ingrained in your memory. Twisting the knobs, it felt as natural as breathing. The radio whirred into life, Al's voice rang out, clear and comforting, like a peaceful white noise.

"Salutations, dear listeners! I say, it's so good to be back on the air." You couldn't help the smile that appeared in response to hearing as he spoke.

You listened intently as Al discussed recent news topics, and, though mostly mundane and repetitive, the host managed to spark interest in even the most boring affairs.

"Now my friends, I urge all of you to stay safe out there."

A sentence which sent shivers hurtling down your spine.

"Rumurs of another missing person have spread like wildfire, and, although we must wait for confirmation of the police report, there is good reason to suspect that this is the work of the illusive Louisiana Butcher."

The Louisiana Butcher. That was what the press was calling you. It all came from Alastor's idea of how to spice up the slaughter further.

*graphic description warning!!*

You leant over the body as you slowly sliced along the man's clavicle relishing in sadistic delight. Your breath came out in sharp pants as you stared into the soulless, unblinking eyes of your victim. Sweat plastered your hair to your forehead, the exertion straining your muscles as you paused to catch your bearings.

Behind you, Alastor chuckled darkly, applauding your lack of mercy.

"Well done, Cher, quite the display."

You basked in his praise, eyes gleaming with manic pleasure.

"Thanks, Al." You stood, wiping the knife on your prey's shirt and moving towards the shovel.

"Wait-" Alastor's gentle yet firm grip on your wrist was a surprise, sending a wave of adrenaline through you, matching the high you felt following a kill. What was he doing to you?

"Leave it." He smirked, a dangerous spark lighting up his eyes.

"And get caught? Oh, Alastor, don't make me laugh!" You smirked, though your smile dropped when he remained insistent.

"I'm serious, dearest. Don't you want to make this adventure so much more exciting?" Bastard knew your weak spot: your penchant for criminal adventure. "Give the law a lead in our case. It isn't like we're at risk of actually being discovered; it will just add to the thrill of the chase when we make the front page of the tabloids!" His hand took your own, his face bearing an expression only present as the aftermath of a brutal killing. But this time there was something else in the mix of those rarely heightened emotions: affection.

Alastor liked you more than be had initially expected to. At first you had been but a mere pawn in his game, an opportunity to deflect the blame should he ever slip up. But now? You were so much more than that. His partner in crime, his best friend, his moitié. (Louisiana Creole for better half)

True to Alastor's word, the two of you made the cover of the paper the following evening.

"The Louisiana Butcher. That's what they're calling us, Al. Oh isn't it just so exciting?"

He smiled at the clear rush of ecstasy flowing through your veins. "Quite."

You were sitting on the plush, brown leather sofa in his living room, two mugs of coffee on the small table before you. Leaning into him slightly more than you knew you should, his arm draped over the back of the couch, directly behind where you sat. The broadsheet newspaper you had picked up in the way over splayed across your laps, the two of you intricately studying page one, the title practically jumping out of the sheet.

"Alastor?" You asked after a moment's pause.

"Hmmm?"

"What do you think would happen if we were to be caught? Y'know, just in case." Something foreign weighed down your voice, fear.

Alastor folded the paper and placed it on the coffee table, turning to face you entirely. He took your chin between hos thumb and forefinger.

"Well, first of all, Cher, you needn't fret in the slightest. Not a single officer would ever suspect a pretty little thing like you as a cold blooded killer. And regardless, even if the whole world was against you I'd still proudly stand at your side, my darling." Your cheeks heated at the compliment, drawing a smile to your lips, reflected on his own.

"But what if you were suspected?" Al let out another laugh at your concern.

"Ha, ha! My dear, don't make me laugh! You know I wouldn't slip up in such a way!"

"You promise?"

"You have my word." He drew your knuckles up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to them.

"Thank you, Al."

"Whatever for?"

"For being here." You moved further into his side, to which he froze for a long moment before reciprocating.

"Not a problem in the slightest, Mon Cher."

Part 3!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you

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differentpostrebel · 1 month ago

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Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

Chapter 39: Fog of Zou and Forbidden Whispers

The first gif because Robin be saying the most out of pocket thing when it was the Zou arc LMFAOO

And this one because the reaction LMFAOOO

A/N: And we are back at it again with another chapter!, thank you guys do much for liking, reblogging, sharing and commenting on these chapters! Starting on chapter 42 its officially the start to whole cake island arc!” I am still working on the bonus chapter for Doflamingo in there. It’ll say chapter 41.5 Bonus Chapter. Each bonus chapter will be a .5 and say Bonus chapter so that way it’ll be easier. I might do color coordinating for the chapters when I go on my master list so that way the different arcs are highlighted. We get a slight confession by Zoro in the end… but all is fair in love and war ;). Now with out further ado, let the adventure begin!

Word Count: 14K

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

Y/N POV…

"Are we all ready?" I called out, making my way down the steps. My sword was secured on my back, and the two blades King had given me were strapped snugly to my thighs. As I descended, I felt the weight of everyone's eyes on me. Zoro let out a low whistle, his gaze trailing up and down.

“My, my,” he muttered as he stepped closer, his hand finding its way to my hip, casually flipping my hair over my shoulder with a playful smirk. “Looks to me like you’ve healed up nicely.”

I shot him a smirk of my own, confidence swelling in my chest. “Well, I need to make sure I’m at my best.” My hand instinctively went to the hilt of my sword. “Especially since this Vinsmoke guy has an ass-kicking coming his way after pulling that stunt on my wanted poster.”

Before Zoro could respond, Kinemon’s voice interrupted. “Sir Law! There you are! Where have you been?”

Law’s gaze was still locked on me, a lingering look of desire flickering in his eyes from our earlier moment. I smirked knowingly. “It’s alright, Kinemon. He was probably just checking his vivre card, making sure his crew is still safe.”

Kinemon nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Alright, let’s catch up to them!” Luffy exclaimed, brimming with excitement.

“Be careful out there!” Usopp called, already inching away from the group.

“Oh no, you're coming too!” I said, pulling him back. Zoro added a playful smack to the back of Usopp’s head.

Kanjuro stepped forward, beginning to sketch what appeared to be... something. "Is that a worm?" Robin asked, tilting her head.

“No, it looks like a fish?” I said, narrowing my eyes at the drawing.

“It’s got legs, Y/N. I’d say it’s a lizard,” Franky added with a shrug.

“What is it though?” Luffy asked, confused.

“It’s a snake, I told you!” Usopp interjected confidently.

“A snake, you say?” Kinemon echoed.

Kanjuro pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration before exclaiming, “Appear, rising dragon!” Suddenly, the drawing came to life.

“No way!” Luffy shouted in amazement.

I couldn’t help but question the creature. “Is that dragon okay?”

“Unleash your might, dragon!” Kanjuro urged, but the dragon looked anything but mighty.

“Whimpy or not, if it can fly, it’ll make things easier,” Usopp muttered.

“Make haste, everyone! Climb upon it so that it may carry us,” Kanjuro announced.

“So it can fly!” Usopp said with a bit more enthusiasm. One by one, we climbed onto the dragon. As I was about to get on, Zoro lifted me up effortlessly and placed me in front of him.

“Really, Zoro?” I said, raising a brow.

“Gotta make sure you’re secured,” he teased, his grip tightening slightly around my waist, a flirtatious reminder of how he held me back in Dressrosa when we rode the bull.

Before I could respond, I felt a sudden shift. In the blink of an eye, Law’s Room technique activated, and suddenly, Zoro was switched with Law, who was now behind me, his chest pressing lightly against my back.

I glanced over my shoulder, catching Law’s smirk as he leaned in slightly. “Looks like I’m the one keeping you secure now.” His voice was low, sending a shiver down my spine.

Zoro let out a frustrated sigh. "Tch, damn room technique..."

As we continued to travel up the elephant's leg, the drawing Kanjuro drew was having a difficult time pulling all of us up. "You can do it, big guy!" Luffy shouted encouragingly.

"How long is it?" Usopp asked, looking up at the towering elephant. His voice wavered with nervousness.

"Hey, Luffy! Your biggest fans have something to say!" Franky called, glancing back to see Bartolomeo and his crew, who were in tears.

"Oh yeah! I forgot to thank them for everything!" Luffy exclaimed, turning toward them. "Hey, Lomeo, thanks for bringing us here! You and your crew were a huge help!" Luffy yelled, waving energetically.

"Please take care, Mr. Luffy!" Bartolomeo yelled back, tears streaming down his face.

"Same to you! Be careful, and see you later!" Luffy waved one last time as we continued to ride the dragon, now climbing higher along the elephant's leg.

"We're so high!" Usopp groaned, clutching the dragon tightly. "I can't take this!"

Suddenly, the dragon started to slip, its grip faltering as it tried to maintain its balance. Instinctively, I tightened my grip, my heart racing. Law's hand moved to my waist, steadying me, and I gasped softly at the sudden contact. His fingers tightened slightly, the warmth of his touch grounding me.

I turned to look at him, catching his intense gaze. His eyes were filled with a mix of concern and desire. "Careful now," he murmured, his voice low, the closeness between us heightening the tension.

"Aw crap! We're all going to die!" Usopp screamed as the dragon started slipping again.

"Are you trying to pull my pants down, or what?!" Zoro yelled at Usopp, who was clinging onto him in a panic.

"Don't give up on us now, buddy!" Luffy cheered, holding on as the dragon struggled to maintain its footing, slipping all the way back to where we started.

Usopp, his nerves getting the better of him, named the dragon "Reonosque."

"That scared the crap out of me," Law muttered, his usual calm demeanor shaken just slightly.

I clenched my left hand in frustration. "I'm on the verge of just flying up there myself."

Law’s hand gently gripped my arm. "You're not going anywhere, princess."

Kanjuro suddenly mentioned his friend Raizo, a ninja, causing every single guy in the group to light up in excitement.

"Oh my," Robin said with amusement.

"That's so cool!" Luffy's eyes sparkled.

"Does he have shuriken?!" Zoro asked eagerly.

"Does he sit on a waterfall?" Usopp added, starry-eyed.

"Does he have powers? He has to!" Law's usually composed face was lit up with interest, almost geeking out at the thought of an actual ninja.

"Can he move in shadows and disappear?" Franky chimed in, his excitement infectious.

Robin and I exchanged a look, both confused but amused by the guys' reactions. "So… are we going to move, or—"

Suddenly, a loud sound came from above, startling us. Something fell toward us at high speed. "Ahh, that came out of nowhere!" Luffy yelled.

"Hit the deck!" Luffy shouted again, but before I could react, something hit me square in the face, causing me to lose my grip.

"Y/N!" Law shouted as I began to fall.

"Ahh!" I screamed, trying to steady myself as the wind rushed past me. In mid-air, I noticed Kinemon and Kanjuro also tumbling through the air.

"Why are you guys falling too?!" I yelled in disbelief.

"We lost our grip!" they both shouted back, flailing wildly.

"You boneheads!" I shouted, the panic in my voice mixing with the absurdity of the situation.

Taking a deep breath, I clenched my left hand and used the momentum of the fall to leap back into the air, flipping gracefully. "That was close," I muttered, landing safely back on the dragon.

Zoro smirked as I settled in front of him. "Comfortable now?" he teased, his arm naturally wrapping around me to steady us both.

"That was one rush, geez," I said, smoothing my hair out of my face, the adrenaline still pumping through me. I glanced back at Law, catching his expression—guilt weighing heavily in his eyes. I gave him a soft smile and a playful wink, letting him know it was alright. His features softened, though the hint of jealousy lingered.

"At first glance, I thought it was a wounded man covered with knives," Robin commented dryly from behind us.

"Really, Robin, can you not be morbid for one second?" I chuckled, trying to shake off the absurdity.

"Or perhaps a little monkey," she continued with a deadpan expression.

Suddenly, we heard Kinemon’s voice call out, "We’re alright! We’ll reunite soon!"

The dragon continued to climb, even though Usopp and the others kept insisting that it was suffering. "He’s struggling; we better press on," Usopp said, looking genuinely concerned as tears formed in his eyes. "Stay strong, Reonosuke!"

"You can do it!" Robin added, holding her hand over her mouth to contain her emotion.

As the evening sun began to set, casting a warm glow over everything, Luffy, completely oblivious to the tension, decided it was nap time and fell right on me.

"Luffy! I swear, if I fall off one more time..." I muttered, trying to shift under his weight.

"Hey, look up there! I see the top!" Franky shouted, his voice filled with excitement.

Suddenly, Luffy stirred in his sleep, lost his grip, and nearly toppled over the side, which set off a chain reaction.

"Phew, that was a—" I started to say until I was cut off by screams.

"Crap! Luffy fell!" Usopp shouted in panic.

"Usopp!" I yelled back.

"How stupid can you be?!" Zoro roared, clearly frustrated with the chaos.

Before things got worse, Luffy managed to save himself by using his stretchy arms to grab hold of the dragon’s horns, but the sudden shift caused us to start tipping over. Now, Zoro, Usopp, and I were hanging upside down, blood rushing to my head as I tried to maintain a tight grip on the dragon.

Zoro’s arm tightened around my waist, pulling me in closer to secure me. "I got you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice low and filled with a mix of protectiveness and something more... intimate.

I could feel Zoro drawing me even closer, his grip firm yet gentle as he pulled me against his chest. His face was now tucked between my neck and shoulder, his breath warm against my skin.

Suddenly, I felt him place a light, teasing peck on my neck. My breath hitched at the unexpected gesture.

"Z-Zoro…" I started, but his hand remained on my waist, his touch lingering. The playful flirtation between us was undeniable, and Law, from his spot behind, was watching—his eyes darkening with jealousy.

Law clenched his jaw, his irritation clear as he witnessed the moment, but Zoro’s smirk only grew wider. He held me tightly, his lips grazing my skin again, sending a shiver down my spine.

Zoro's smirk widened as he held me tight, still savoring the tension between us, his lips grazing my skin one more time before we both refocused on the task at hand. Luffy, oblivious to the earlier moment, finally managed to pull himself up and land on the dragon's nose. Despite still hanging upside down, we all cheered for Reonosuke to keep going.

"You can do it, Reonosuke!" Luffy yelled encouragingly.

"That’s your word of encouragement?" Usopp said, clearly about to slip off himself.

"Do your best, dragon!" Zoro muttered, annoyed but smirking again. "Actually, take your time."

"Zoro, really!" I said, rolling my eyes at his teasing, though secretly enjoying the playful moment. Finally, Reonosuke managed to pull himself up, and we sped ahead, the dragon straining but continuing the climb.

"Almost to the top! Almost to the top!" everyone cheered, calling Reonosuke's name.

"Be strong, Reonosuke," Robin whispered, tears in her eyes as she covered her mouth.

We finally reached the top and all dismounted the dragon. "We made it! We're here!" Luffy exclaimed with joy.

Robin and I turned to thank the dragon, but he was starting to change back into the drawing.

"You can’t leave!" Usopp cried, emotionally attached now. "Please, Reonosuke! You’re a true hero!"

The rest of us, except for Law and Zoro, were moved by the dragon’s sacrifice.

"This is dumb," Law muttered, crossing his arms. "It’s just a crappy drawing."

Zoro snorted. "Yeah, let’s not get sentimental over a doodle."

As we continued forward, the atmosphere shifted. The once lively place looked abandoned, and the gate ahead was destroyed.

"Did something happen here?" I asked, my eyes scanning the eerie surroundings.

"You see Curly Brows anywhere?" Zoro asked as he stood next to me.

Usopp, who had climbed a tower, yelled down, "Nope, nothing!"

"Should we wait for the others?" Robin asked, a little hesitant.

"Nah, they’ll be fine," I said, waving it off as we ventured further inside. The place felt strange—like something ominous had happened recently.

"Look at the trail too," Zoro pointed out. "No normal animal could’ve made a path this wide."

"I wonder what caused this," Usopp said nervously. Zoro and I exchanged a glance, both sensing the tension in the air.

I clenched my right hand, allowing electricity to surge through it. "Only one way to find out!" Zoro and I said in unison as we moved ahead.

"Wait, slow down!" Usopp yelled, clearly panicking.

"The flowers here grow in odd places," Robin mused, her eyes examining the strange flora around us.

"Geez, what happened here?" Franky added, sniffing the air. "It smells like gas and gunpowder."

Suddenly, we all felt a presence nearby. Zoro unsheathed his sword with a confident grin. "I got this."

A figure darted out from the shadows, swiftly dodging Zoro’s attack mid-air. Before the figure could land a strike, I managed to block it with my electrically charged hand, sending sparks flying.

"Sorry, Zoro, looks like you needed a little backup," I teased, electricity still crackling from my fingertips as I smirked over at him.

Before Zoro could respond, a voice called out. "Carrot! Stop immediately!" Another figure—a giant gator—burst through.

"Since when are there gators here?!" I asked, not taking my eyes off the mink who had just attacked.

"Talking animals?" Usopp said, his voice shaking.

"They’re the Mink Tribe," Law explained, sounding more intrigued than alarmed.

"Wait a second... I know those clothes!" Usopp shouted, realization dawning on him. "But that’s not Nami…"

The mink and I stood off, both still charged with electricity. I raised an eyebrow. "Why don’t you lower your hand?" I suggested, smirking at her. The mink hesitated but backed away as I did the same, turning off the electrical current in my arm.

"There's an invader in the Whale Forest too?!" the mink, Carrot, exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Yes, the situation is dire," said another mink, wearing Nami's clothes. "The Guardians won’t be happy about this."

"Listen, what did you do to Nami?" Usopp shouted, his fear clear.

"Do you think they’re cannibals?" Robin asked with her usual calmness, causing Usopp to scream in terror.

"Great, now I’m double scared!" Usopp wailed.

Just then, the mink I had faced, Carrot, leaped into the air with impressive force. "That technique looks similar to mine," I thought. "I’m definitely learning that to improve my left leg's agility."

I turned to Zoro. "I could use that move."

Zoro chuckled but stayed focused. "Looks like it could come in handy."

"Carrot, see anything unusual?" the other mink asked.

Carrot pointed west. "Over there!"

The mink in Nami’s clothes got ready to move. "There’s no time to transport you all-tia, so head west to the Trump Forest. That’s where you’ll find your crew’s corpse. Wait for us on the right flank."

The words hit us like a punch. Usopp dropped to the ground in shock.

"Wait… what?" I asked, my voice trembling. "What did she mean by corpse?"

Fear surged through me as the reality of the situation began to settle in. Something terrible had happened to the crew, and we needed to find out what.

Fear still gripped me, but Zoro’s calm logic cut through the panic. "Nobody’s been killed. Curlybrows is with them, remember?"

Usopp, still crying, sniffled, “But she said something about a corpse!”

“Well, she did say ‘corpse,’ which means they haven’t been eaten… yet,” Robin added, ever the realist.

“That’s not the point!” Usopp wailed, shaking his head dramatically.

"Those animal ladies must’ve been trying to trick us," Franky added, his voice tinged with skepticism.

"If that’s the case, then it’s a terrible lie," I said, crossing my arms, trying to push down my own anxiety as I watched Usopp continue to cry.

“Are they the only tribe, or not? And are they cannibals?” Robin asked, still fixated on the worst possibilities.

"Can you please stop with the cannibal stuff?!" Usopp freaked out, his nerves clearly getting the best of him.

"First things first, we need to learn everything we can about this place," I said, trying to focus the group. "Law, your crew should be here, right?"

Law nodded, his expression serious. "Yes, they should be."

"And can you contact them?" Robin asked, always thinking ahead.

"I'm afraid not," Law replied, a hint of regret in his voice. "I didn’t expect to see them again this soon, but I do still have this." He pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket. "It’s a Vivre Card—from our navigator, Bepo."

“That’s right!” I said, feeling a bit of relief. “Bepo should be here, waiting for you.”

"Yeah," Law added, "this place is where he was born. But he left the island when he was little, so he doesn’t remember much about the Mink Tribe."

"Are you sure we can trust him?" Usopp piped up, his voice shaky. "Like, what if he still longs to taste human flesh?"

Before Law could respond, I stepped forward, holding up a hand. "Usopp, calm down. I know Bepo, and he’s the sweetest little mink you’ll ever meet. He wouldn’t even think about doing something like that."

Usopp was still unconvinced, his eyes wide. "Y/N, you’ve only met him a handful of times! How can you be so sure?!"

I rolled my eyes, sighing. "Because, Usopp, I met Bepo back in Sabaody. I even gave him my number back when we were in that auction house. When we met, he was so nervous! Trust me, he’s super sweet. Once you see him, you’ll understand." My words came out with complete confidence, trying to ease Usopp’s worries.

As I turned to Law, I noticed something. His gaze had softened as he listened to me talk about Bepo. There was a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before, like hearing me speak fondly of his crewmate had stirred something in him. His usual calm demeanor shifted slightly, and for a brief moment, his expression held a depth of emotion—appreciation, admiration, maybe even something more.

But just as quickly, Law broke out of his trance, clearing his throat and composing himself. "Look," he said, his voice steady but with a lingering softness, "I’ve known Bepo for a decade. He’s my friend, and if you want reliable info, follow me." His tone carried a certainty, but there was still that lingering connection in the way he looked at me, like something unspoken had passed between us.

"Wait! There was a town back there, what if they’re all there waiting?!" Usopp said, still not convinced.

"There might be some cannibals," Robin chimed in, causing Usopp to freak out further.

All of us followed Law as we made our way into town. Destruction was evident everywhere—buildings and houses were reduced to rubble, and debris littered the streets.

"What happened?" I asked, feeling a chill run down my spine as I took in the devastation.

As we moved further, Zoro’s voice came from behind me. "What is this?" He pointed toward a series of crude torture devices scattered in the ruins.

"I don’t know, but it doesn’t look right," I replied.

"Hey, check this out!" Law called, showing us a giant dent in the ground. "This is huge."

"Two weeks," Robin said, eyeing the area. "This place has been abandoned for two weeks."

"Two weeks?!" Usopp exclaimed in disbelief.

Suddenly, the ground shifted beneath us.

"What is it now?" I said, my voice laced with frustration just as a water eruption burst forth, sending us all into chaos.

"Run, guys!" Robin shouted. "Get to higher ground!"

"It’s too late, brace yourselves!" Franky yelled as the floodwaters swept us away.

I fought to stay above water, but the current was relentless, pulling me under again and again. Water filled my lungs, and every gasp for air was followed by another forceful wave that dragged me down. Just when I thought I might be lost to the flood, a strong hand grabbed hold of me.

"I got you!" Zoro shouted, pulling me to safety along with Franky, Usopp, Robin, and Law.

I collapsed onto higher ground, coughing up water as I tried to catch my breath. "Th... Thanks, Zoro," I managed to say, my voice weak but grateful.

Zoro knelt beside me, his strong arms helping me to sit up as I placed a trembling hand on my chest, focusing on steadying my breathing. "Easy, princess, breathe," he said in a tone that was both protective and teasing.

As I opened my eyes, I saw both Zoro and Law staring at me. There was a palpable tension in the air. "Is everything alright with you two?" I asked, my confusion growing as I followed their gazes—only to realize, with a jolt of embarrassment, that my wet top was now clinging to my body, revealing far more than I intended.

Zoro's smirk widened as he looked at me with his usual playful glint. "Well, if you wanted to get my attention, you definitely succeeded, princess," he teased, his voice low and suggestive. His fingers brushed against my arm again, sending another shiver through me. "Though you didn’t have to go this far."

I shot him a glare, my face heating up. "Zoro, seriously—this is not the time."

He chuckled, clearly enjoying my flustered reaction. "Could’ve fooled me," he murmured, leaning in slightly as his grin deepened. "But hey, I’m not complaining."

I turned away, trying to regain some semblance of composure, only to lock eyes with Law, who had been silently watching the entire exchange. His expression was harder to read, but his eyes were dark, filled with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. Though he said nothing, the hunger in his gaze was unmistakable, sending a different kind of shiver down my spine.

"Law?" I asked, my voice hesitant. "You okay?"

He blinked, breaking free from whatever trance he was in, but the tension in his body and the lingering look he gave me told me everything. He cleared his throat, his usual stoic demeanor returning. "I’m fine," he said curtly, though his gaze drifted back to me, betraying his words.

"Right..." I muttered, feeling the weight of both their stares.

Suddenly, Usopp's frantic voice echoed through the air. "Luffy! Luffy's with that Nami dog lady, and the flying rabbit is there too!"

"Ahh! Luffy is being eaten... kinda!" Usopp screamed from above.

"Then it's true, they must be..." Franky started, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"A cannibal tribe," Robin finished calmly, as Usopp spiraled into another panic.

I slapped my hand on my forehead in frustration. "Of course..." I muttered as we quickly made our way toward Luffy’s direction. The idea of a cannibal tribe was starting to become ridiculous, but convincing Usopp otherwise seemed impossible.

As we ran, Law swiftly used his powers, calling out "Shambles!" In an instant, we were teleported—Usopp and Franky landed horribly on the ground, groaning and tumbling in disarray. Robin, as always, landed gracefully alongside Zoro.

Just as I braced myself for a rough landing, I felt strong arms catch me mid-air. Law held me steady, his grip firm but gentle, and for a brief moment, I was suspended in his arms, our faces inches apart.

I blinked, surprised by the sudden closeness. "Thanks for the catch," I said, my voice soft as I met his eyes.

Law gave a small nod, his usual stoic expression momentarily replaced by something warmer. "Anytime," he replied, his voice low and deliberate, his gaze locked on mine for just a moment longer than necessary.

I felt my cheeks heat up at his words, but before I could respond, Law finally let his hand fall away, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake as he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

"Hey, look who it is?" yelled Luffy, his voice echoing across the clearing as we saw him standing with two Minks by his side. "Are you okay? No missing arms or legs?" Usopp questioned, hiding nervously behind Zoro. Then, in typical Usopp fashion, he took over, pretending to be Zoro, moving his arms like a puppet as if he was Zoro himself.

I sighed, shaking my head at the absurdity. "Well, this is a mess, whatever impression you guys have, it’s all wrong," said the female Mink, crossing her arms. "Look over there. There’s a guard and a gate to our fortress," she continued, pointing ahead where a group of Minks stood guard, watching us cautiously.

"None of them meant any harm. They just didn’t know they were supposed to ring the welcoming bell, open the gate, and deliver this message for me—the Straw Hat Pirates have arrived!" she announced proudly. "We have very important guests! They are friends of our saviors and should be welcomed as such!"

Instantly, the crowd of Minks surrounding us cheered in unison, "Garchu!"

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "Well, I’ll be damned."

"Garchu!" Luffy yelled back, beaming at the crowd.

Suddenly, familiar voices cut through the noise. "There they are!" came Nami’s voice.

"You’re right! I see them!" shouted Chopper, running toward us.

"Chopper!" I called out, rushing forward to meet him. His little arms flew around me as he jumped into my embrace.

"Hey, look! It's Nami and Chopper, and not a scratch on them!" Usopp cried, tears streaming down his face.

"Y/N! You’re not dead!" Chopper sobbed, squeezing me tightly.

"Of course, I’m not, Chopper!" I laughed, hugging him close.

"Luffy!" Nami yelled, relief clear in her voice as she threw herself toward him. "I was so worried! I’m so glad you’re safe!" Luffy just grinned, completely relaxed.

But then, as I held Chopper, I felt him start to tremble. I looked down, only to see him starting to cry again. "Chopper, what’s wrong?" I asked softly, my heart sinking a little at seeing him like this.

He sniffled and looked up at me with tear-filled eyes. "Why didn’t you tell me you were engaged?"

I froze, completely blindsided. "Engaged?" I blinked. "What made you think that, Chopper?" I asked, genuinely confused, wondering what could have given him that idea.

But before I could get a response, I turned to the others. "By the way, have you guys seen Brook or Sanji? I need to talk to Sanji... I’m sure he’s been going through it." I chuckled, imagining his dramatic reaction to everything.

However, Nami’s expression turned serious. Her smile faded, and I could see the weight of something dark in her eyes. "I’m sorry, but... Sanji is gone."

Her words hit like a punch, and everything around me seemed to blur. "Gone?" I whispered, feeling the weight of the revelation press down on me.

The shock lingered as time passed, but eventually, the minks began to bring us food and booze, trying to lift our spirits.

I found myself sitting next to Zoro as they served us some kind of monkey wine. Zoro took a sip, nodding appreciatively. "This is fine wine," he said, sounding a bit impressed.

"Mind if I try some?" I asked, curious. I was handed a cup, and as I took a sip, the warmth of the drink immediately spread through me. "Delicious," I murmured, feeling a slight flush rise to my cheeks.

Suddenly, the minks began to cuddle up to Zoro, yelling, "Garchu!" and nuzzling against him. I couldn’t help but giggle at the sight.

Zoro, looking completely annoyed, tried to shake them off. "Enough of the cuddles! Can’t you see I’m drinking here?" he growled, pushing them away gently.

"Aww, but it’s fun!" one of the minks whined, trying to cling to him again.

Laughing, I leaned in toward him, teasingly adding, "You guys, Zoro isn’t the mushy type. Watch this." With a smirk, I nuzzled my cheek against his, just like the minks had done. "Garchu!" I said playfully.

Zoro’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he froze, caught off guard by my sudden closeness. But then, with a playful smirk of his own, he slid his arm around my waist, pulling me even closer. His breath was warm against my skin as he whispered, "Oh, so you think you’re clever, huh?"

I giggled, enjoying the lightheartedness of the moment. "Looks like you’re getting used to the cuddles, Zoro."

"Don’t push your luck," he murmured, though his tone was laced with amusement. His fingers gently brushed my side, and I felt the warmth of the wine and his touch mix, sending a slight shiver down my spine. He leaned in, his lips brushing close to my ear. "I’ll give you something to 'garchu' about."

His words, paired with the proximity, sent my heart racing. "Oh, really?" I teased, trying to keep my voice steady, but the tension between us was palpable.

Zoro chuckled, his grip on me tightening slightly. "Remember that favor you owe me from losing that drinking bet?" he said, his tone playful but carrying a hint of challenge.

I blinked, momentarily surprised. "Oh? I thought you’d forgotten about that," I replied, laughing lightly.

"Not a chance," he whispered, his lips almost grazing my ear as he spoke. His voice was low and teasing, making it clear he had been waiting for the perfect moment. "I’ve just been waiting for the right time to cash it in. And trust me, you won’t forget it when I do."

I was about to respond, but the minks once again garchued Zoro, and I couldn't help but laugh at the adorable interaction unfolding. "Don't be mean, Zoro! They are giving us all this meat, and you can't be nice for one second," Luffy muttered, his mouth full of food.

Suddenly, a mink came up to me, garchuing with excitement. "You're so cute! Garchu!" it squeaked. I couldn't resist the playful energy around us, joining in the laughter as we all began to mingle and enjoy the feast.

Just then, someone burst through the doors. "You're... you're here!" Brook exclaimed, rushing towards us with an air of excitement.

"Brook!" I exclaimed, placing my drink on the floor and rushing to greet him. "Brook!" everyone echoed joyously, their voices filling the room.

"Ohhh Joy! I read about your big battle!" Brook cried, his eye sockets dripping with tears of relief. "I'm so glad you’re all okay!" His gaze fixed on me, and he added, "Y/N! You’re not dead!"

I laughed, a sense of warmth spreading through me. "No, I’m very much alive!" I replied, grinning at his exuberance.

But then Brook's expression shifted to one of concern. "Also, why didn’t you tell me you were engaged?!" he asked, rushing over to hug me from the side, his tears now flowing freely.

"Brook, what are you on about?" I replied, slightly confused. I raised my right hand, showcasing the only ring I carried. "Engagement ring? The only rings I carry are the ones King gave me!" I insisted. "Who told you I was engaged?"

Before Brook could answer, he turned his attention to Luffy. "I’ve missed you!" Brook cried, suddenly clinging to Luffy and shedding tears. "What’s wrong? You’re all banged up!"

"Never mind me, I’m sorry about Sanji! I feel like I’ve lost all face! Although not that I have one to begin with," Brook lamented dramatically. I was about to ask about Sanji when Usopp interrupted.

"Oh yeah, wasn’t Momo supposed to be with you guys?" he asked, curiosity lighting up his face.

Brook tensed up at the mention of Momo. "Momo isn’t fond of the minks," he explained, his tone becoming more serious. He then pulled us aside for a private chat, clearly wanting to ensure the discussion remained discreet.

"We aren’t allowed to mention samurai or Wano," Brook explained, glancing around cautiously. "It might cause offense or pain to the minks."

"What’s the deal?" I asked, confused and concerned about the implications.

Just as Brook was about to continue, he was suddenly bitten by one of the dog minks, who seemed enamored with his bony figure. "He’s so popular," Robin remarked, smirking as we all walked to sit down together.

"Luffy, I don’t see Traffy anywhere," Chopper said, looking around.

"Yeah, he said ‘bear place,’" Luffy replied, scratching his head in confusion.

"Bear place?" Chopper echoed, his brows furrowing in thought.

"I think what Luffy is trying to say is that Traffy is with Bepo and the rest of his crew," Robin clarified, rolling her eyes at Luffy’s usual antics.

I felt a surge of relief knowing that Traffy was with his crew. "I hope they’re okay," I said quietly, glancing at my friends.

"He’s fine! Instead, we should worry more about Sanji," Nami interjected, her expression turning serious.

"He left you a letter, didn’t he? His thing will work out," Zoro said, his tone indifferent, though I could sense his concern.

"Actually, Zoro, he left two letters, and one was for Y/N," Nami corrected, holding out the folded paper to me.

"A letter for me?" I said, my curiosity piqued as I took the letter from Nami's hands.

I carefully opened its contents, and as I read, the words made my eyes glossy with tears. "What is he saying?" I whispered, my heart racing.

The letter read:

My beloved Y/N,I didn’t want you to find out this way, nor did I want the crew to think I was hiding anything. I’m not marrying Big Mom’s daughter, nor do I care about engagements. The only woman I have my eyes set on is you. I’ll be damned if I let anybody harm you or force you into doing anything against your will. I’ll be back in no time, once I sort this whole situation out. Y/N, as I write this letter, I want you to know...

The ink smudged slightly, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. The words danced before my eyes as I tried to process everything. I only want to be engaged to you, and I’ll be damned if I let a Vinsmoke claim you as his.

"This letter doesn’t make any sense," I said, my voice trembling as I struggled to comprehend his declarations.

Luffy began to ponder, his brow furrowed in thought. Zoro’s grip on my waist tightened slightly, a possessiveness evident in his posture. "Hmmm, he didn’t get kidnapped; he just left?" Luffy mused, trying to piece together the situation.

"That’s what I’m worried about! It all seems too fishy!" Nami exclaimed, her eyes wide with concern.

"I’m so sorry!" Chopper chimed in, his voice quivering with emotion. "We couldn’t do anything to stop him."

"You’re going to need to give us more details because I’m lost," Franky added, crossing his arms as he looked at Nami expectantly.

"Same here!" I echoed, my thoughts racing. With the letter Sanji gave me, my wanted poster stamped with "Only Alive," and the ominous mention of a Vinsmoke, I felt like I was caught in the middle of a storm. "I need a rundown of everything."

"Listen, Nami, we need to know the details in full. Tell us what happened in the last 11 days since you left Dressrosa and boarded the Sunny," Robin urged, her expression serious.

"Okay, I’ll tell you everything that happened," Nami said, her tone shifting as she prepared to recount the story.

As Nami began to detail the events that unfolded—from my capture by Doflamingo to the sudden appearance of Big Mom’s ship—we all listened intently, absorbing every word. The atmosphere shifted from anxiety to excitement as Nami recounted how they fought valiantly against overwhelming odds.

We all cheered as Luffy recounted how they kicked ass. 'Way to go, guys!' I said, resting my head on Zoro’s chest, feeling the comfort of his presence. His heartbeat was steady, a reassuring rhythm amidst the chaos of our situation. Zoro looked down at me, a hint of a smirk on his lips, as if he was proud to be my anchor in this whirlwind of emotions and revelations.

"So, you came here after that? How long did it take?" Robin asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Zou was close to us, so we arrived in a day," Nami replied.

"We’ve been here ten days!" Chopper added, holding up his hooves, his eyes wide with surprise.

Robin then turned her attention to Wanda, asking about the city’s situation. With a solemn expression, Wanda recounted the tale of what had transpired, her face bearing the weight of the tragic events. She explained how they owed everything to the Straw Hats and Chopper's medical expertise for saving many lives in the aftermath of the attack.

Just then, the minks received news that the Duke was awake. "Duke Dogstorm would like to meet the saviors," one of the minks announced, excitement rippling through the gathered crowd.

Wanda continued, her tone turning serious as she recalled the assault by Jack and the Beast Pirates. "They wanted something we didn’t have," she explained, her voice thick with emotion. "The Beast Pirates attacked and caused destruction beyond what we could handle."

"So it was Kaido's crew that attacked, and they are the Beast Pirates," Robin clarified, piecing together the information.

Wanda nodded, confirming Robin's deduction. "Those bastards," I muttered, my anger flaring at the thought of what the minks had endured.

Sensing my growing rage, Zoro placed his arm around my shoulder, a silent gesture of support meant to calm me down. His warmth enveloped me, grounding me amidst the tumult of emotions swirling within. I leaned into him slightly, grateful for his presence as I tried to push the anger aside

"They wouldn't listen to a word we said; we were forced to fight or die," Wanda recounted, her voice heavy with the memories of the battle.

"Wait, so Jack ended up leaving but he never found the samurai?" Usopp asked, piecing together the timeline.

Luffy, oblivious to the tension, began bouncing with excitement, his voice high and squeaky. "Wow, that was fun!" he declared, moving up and down the bridge in his usual overenthusiastic manner.

"Luffy! Stop!" I shouted, half-amused and half-exasperated.

"Not for us!" the rest of the crew chimed in unison, their frustration evident.

We finally arrived at the place where Duke Dogstorm was resting, and Wanda continued sharing details about Cat Viper and the Duke, her tone shifting to a more somber note. "But then... a poison gas," she said, her expression darkening.

Realization dawned on all of us simultaneously. "You know what that means," Chopper chimed in, his eyes wide. "The poison gas—it was Caesar's."

"Looks like he’s getting another ass-kicking," I muttered, my determination hardening. "He’s number three on my list." I made a mental note to settle the score with Caesar, the memory of his past actions fueling my resolve. Zoro tightened his grip on my shoulder,

"So I see the connection now! Kaido's bio-weapons came from Doflamingo!" Robin said, her words cutting through the room with sharp clarity.

The mention of his name made my body tense up, a wave of anxiety washing over me. My breathing became shallow, and the air around me felt like it was closing in. The memories of Doflamingo's cruel grip, his suffocating presence, all surged back.

"Y/N, breathe... breathe," Zoro's voice came, steady and firm, his hand gently squeezing my shoulder.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the rhythm of my breaths, trying to push the panic back down. Just the mention of Doflamingo was enough to set me on edge, but Zoro’s calm presence beside me helped me regain control. I nodded slightly, silently thankful for him as I worked to ground myself, the weight of the past momentarily easing.

Luffy gritted his teeth, fists clenched tight. "Caesar!" he growled, fury evident in his voice. "He's getting an ass kicking!"

"I've already made a mental note, Captain," I said, my eyes narrowing. A small electrical current sparked from my fingers as I added with a smirk, "He's getting an ass kicking and a shock."

Luffy grinned, his anger momentarily turning into excitement at the thought. “Good! He deserves it!”

Luffy’s grin faltered, replaced by a more serious expression as Wanda continued recounting the terrible events they endured. “It wasn’t your fault, you must’ve been frustrated,” Luffy said, trying to comfort her.

Wanda’s voice trembled as she recalled the horrors. “We were all completely paralyzed… and as for what happened next... I don’t even want to say it.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I can’t shake the screams of innocent lives, begging for help…”

I felt my heart ache for her and the minks. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, wishing there was more I could do to ease their pain.

“We were spared by fate,” came a deep, weary voice. Duke Dogstorm was now awake, slowly lifting his head.

“How long have you been awake?!” Luffy exclaimed in surprise.

The Duke, still groggy but focused, lifted a newspaper to show us. The headline read that Jack had died. "The day Jack left our kingdom was the day you two, Gara,"—he nodded towards both Luffy and me—“challenged Doflamingo. I realized then, Jack was trying to liberate Doflamingo from captivity. It must have been bound by some deep-rooted connection. The reason they left... was because of you two.”

The Duke’s words weighed heavily, the realization settling over us all. His eyes closed again, falling back into sleep as exhaustion claimed him.

Wanda, tears still fresh, turned to us. “Knowing that, I feel even more gratitude. All of our lives are deeply indebted to you.”

“And the day Doflamingo was defeated was the day we arrived here,” Chopper added, putting it all together.

I couldn’t help but feel the immense gravity of our actions—how they rippled across the world and saved so many lives, even when we didn’t realize it.

Zoro’s grip tightened slightly, his proud grin never faltering. “That’s my partner,” he repeated, leaning down to kiss the top of my head again, his lips lingering just a bit longer this time.

I smirked, unable to resist teasing him. “Look at you, Zo. Being all soft.”

Before Zoro could reply, Usopp’s voice cut through the moment. “Soft? Zoro? Are we still talking about the same guy?!” Usopp threw his hands up in exaggerated disbelief. “Must be the wine talking, no way he’s being all cuddly!”

Zoro shot Usopp a glare, his face flushed—probably a mix of both embarrassment and the booze. “Hey!, keep it up and you’ll be next.”

Usopp immediately raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! No need to get all ‘swordsman’ on me!” he said, backing off with a grin.

Zoro pulled me closer, his arm a steady presence around my shoulder as Chopper recounted their harrowing journey to Zou. He detailed how Nami and Brook faced off against one of the Beast Pirates, and how he, Sanji, and Caesar saw the devastation that had torn through the Mink Tribe. The image of the crucified Minks caused a chill to settle over the group. Chopper explained how he managed to create an antidote, saving lives while Caesar, predictably, gloated about his role in creating the gas.

"Man, Gas Guy sucks," Luffy muttered, his face twisted in disgust.

"Just wait until I get my hands on him," I growled, my right hand now glowing with a red crackle of electricity. The spark of power surged through me, fueled by the anger at the devastation Caesar had caused.

Zoro gave a quick side glance at the electricity in my hand, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Seems like someone’s extra fired up."

“Y/N?! When did you learn to do that?!” Chopper asked, eyes wide with surprise.

I was about to explain, but Zoro cut in. “The princess’s blades pick up on her energy. So it depends—one can be blue, one can be yellow, and I believe red. Right, princess?” he said, resting his chin on my head with a casual possessiveness.

“There’s more to the blades,” I added, “but I’m still figuring it out. They can even cast white sometimes.”

Usopp, ever observant, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Zoro, are you sure that wine didn’t do something to you? You’re acting a bit… soft.”

Zoro’s eyes narrowed, but before he could retort, I grinned and added, “Maybe it’s the garchu he got earlier.”

The group continued to laugh as Zoro tightened his hold around me, a playful yet protective gesture. Chopper then recounted how he and Caesar had managed to neutralize the gas, detailing the tense moments where time was against them. “We were in a race against time,” he said, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation. He explained how Wanda initially thought they were enemies, but Pedro and Tristan vouched for the Straw Hats. With Caesar’s reluctant help, they managed to create a vaccine to save the minks.

Wanda’s voice trembled as she spoke, tears welling in her eyes. “You-tia saved our civilization.”

Franky, ever the emotional one, began to cry openly. “I’m so proud of you guys! Look at that! You guys are super!” His exaggerated sobbing only added to the warmth of the moment.

Chopper suddenly perked up, remembering something. “Oh! Since the sun’s down, that means I’m on night shift. I’ve got to take care of Cat Viper!”

“I’m coming! Let’s go meet him!” Luffy said excitedly, his energy as boundless as ever.

“Let’s all go!” I chimed in, my own curiosity piqued by the mysterious figure of Cat Viper.

“Sweet, guess that settles it!” Luffy grinned as we all made our way to climb onto Wanda’s gator.

as we all made our way to climb onto Wanda’s gator, excitement buzzing through the group. As we rode through the lush forest, Luffy leaned forward, his curiosity clearly building. “Anyway, Wanda, you never finished the story.”

“Yeah, you didn’t tell us what happened to our dumbass cook and idiot gas guy,” Zoro added from behind me, his arms wrapped securely around me as my back rested against his chest. His casual comment earned a few chuckles from the others, but there was an edge of concern beneath his words.

As the gator moved through the forest, the cool night air brushing past us, I could feel Zoro’s steady heartbeat against my back. His head resting gently on my neck sent a soft laugh bubbling up from my chest, and I couldn’t help but lean into the moment, feeling completely at ease.

That’s when Usopp, always the drama king, jumped in with a theatrical gasp. "Zoro has definitely gone soft! This would totally set Sanji over the edge!" He threw his hands in the air for extra emphasis, grinning widely as he continued his teasing. "It’s like you’re claiming Y/N or something!"

Everyone burst into laughter at Usopp’s over-the-top performance, and I shook my head, trying to stifle my giggles. "Usopp, you’re too much!" I managed to say through the laughter.

Zoro, however, remained calm, though the corner of his mouth quirked into a smirk. "Tch. Let Sanji think what he wants," he muttered, his arms tightening just a bit more around me. "I don’t need to explain myself to him."

Usopp snickered. "You’re totally claiming her!"

Zoro smirked, completely unfazed. “Well, she is my partner, after all,” he said boldly, tightening his grip slightly.

My cheeks flushed at his statement, but I couldn’t help but laugh along with everyone else, feeling a mixture of warmth and excitement. “I thought I was just your nap sidekick?” I teased, looking up at him with a grin.

Zoro leaned in, his grin widening. “You’re that too,” he replied, making the others chuckle more. Usopp exaggeratedly threw his hands up again.

“Now they’ve got titles for each other! Sanji’s gonna lose his mind when he hears this!” Usopp added dramatically, shaking his head.

Before Wanda could respond to Luffy’s earlier question, Brook suddenly intervened, strumming his guitar ominously. “Perhaps it’s best if I tell the rest of this tale,” he said solemnly. “I fear our dear friend Sanji may never return to our side.”

“What?!” Luffy and I both exclaimed in shock.

“That’s crazy. In both our letters, Sanji said he was coming back,” I argued, confusion creeping into my voice.

“He wouldn’t lie to us! I believe Sanji’s story!” Luffy shouted, fists clenched in determination.

Zoro, leaning back with a scoff, added, “Don’t know about you guys, but I wouldn’t miss him. If I never see him again, he was kind of dead weight for us.”

I turned in Zoro’s arms and thumped him on the chest. “Don’t be mean!” I said, giving him a stern look before turning back around.

“Sanji is still our friend, Zoro!” Luffy yelled, his temper flaring slightly.

Brook then continued the story. “It was then that Pekoms and Bege from Big Mom’s crew showed up on the island as well.”

“So, Big Mom’s pirates were here on Zou?” Usopp asked, his voice incredulous.

“Yeah, so Sanji must have kicked their pickled asses, huh?” Luffy added, grinning wide.

“That would’ve really set Big Mom off!” Usopp said, a mix of awe and fear in his voice.

“It’s fine since I already started that fight,” Luffy said nonchalantly.

Brook strummed his guitar once more, his voice softening. “Sanji is as kind-hearted as they come... He led those two into a fortress in the forest. But Bege kept mentioning something odd. He kept asking, ‘Where’s the girl?’”

I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?”

Brook looked at me seriously, his hollow eyes reflecting concern. “When Sanji confronted Bege about it, he thought they were talking about Nami at first. But we were all taken inside Bege’s body. Sanji sat across from Bege, while Pekoms was shot for being willing to call Big Mom and tell her the mission failed. Nami, Caesar, Chopper, and I were all chained.”

My body tensed at the revelation. Zoro’s grip on me tightened instantly, his protective instinct kicking in.

“Wait, inside his body?” I interrupted, my body tensing at the strange revelation.

“How’d you guys even fit?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood despite my rising unease.

"I would presume you'd need to cut up his abdomen," Robin said casually, prompting Usopp to freak out.

"Enough with the body horror, okay?!" Usopp exclaimed, visibly disturbed.

Brook continued. “After that, Bege asked about ‘the girl’ again. Sanji, still assuming it was Nami, asked who they meant. But then Bege clarified, saying the one they were looking for was Princess Y/N.”

“What?!” I shot up from my position, now sitting straight. “What could Big Mom want with me?!”

Zoro’s grip tightened further, his tension matching mine as he tried to keep me calm.

“We all tried to figure that out too,” Brook said gravely. “But then, there was startling news. Bege revealed that Big Mom had planned two weddings, and she requested both Sanji and Y/N’s attendance. Sanji was enraged and rejected the idea, saying he was already engaged—to you, Y/N.”

“He said what?!” I shouted, coughing in surprise as I tried to process the revelation. "I never agreed to any marriage! Why would Sanji say that?!" My mind raced, recalling the words in Sanji's letter. “Is that why he added that to my letter?!”

Brook nodded, continuing, “Which is what I told Nami—it’s more of a one-sided marriage since you didn’t agree to it.”

“But I just know you would’ve made a blushing bride! Yohohohoho!” Brook added, his laugh oddly light-hearted despite the tension.

Before I could respond, Luffy, oblivious to the seriousness of the situation, cut in. “Y/N! Why didn’t you tell me you were engaged?! We could’ve done something on the Sunny!” he said with wide, innocent eyes.

“Well, you know, Captain, I was hoping to keep it under—" I began sarcastically before losing my temper. "I HAVEN’T EVEN AGREED TO A PROPOSAL!” I yelled, my rage finally spilling out.

Zoro, sensing I was on the verge of losing control, got up from his lounging position and pulled me back into his arms, holding me close. He leaned down to whisper in my ear, his voice calm but firm. “You’re not marrying anyone you don’t want to, princess. I’ll make sure of that.”

Brook then revealed the next shocker. “Bege pulled out a second invitation—this one meant for you, Y/N. You were to be married to the first son of the Vinsmoke family, Ichiji.”

“So I’m in an arranged marriage?!” I said, my voice rising with the burning anger inside me.

Luffy’s confusion was palpable as he scratched his head. “Wait, Y/N, I’m confused. So are you marrying Sanji or this Ichiji guy?”

“I’M NOT MARRYING EITHER ONE!” I yelled, my frustration boiling over.

Zoro’s arm tightened protectively around me as he smirked, his voice low. “That’s the spirit.”

Brook continued with the story, “Sanji then asked whose bright idea it was and why. Bege answered, telling him he’s a Vinsmoke and how should he know. Sanji even asked why you were involved, to which Bege said that Ichiji would have been there, but he was taking care of business for Judge. He’s excited to see his soon-to-be bride, but what shocked me was that he was the one who called for your wedding and that yours would be first, then Sanji's,” he said, causing me to cough once more.

Brook continued, saying that the revelation that Sanji was also a Vinsmoke chilled him to the bones. “Sanji kept denying it, saying he wasn’t going to marry or go to a tea party for Big Mom, and that he’d be damned if he let any of those bastards harm Y/N,” Brook added, looking solemn.

“Bege was adamant in having you there as well, but since you were in Dressrosa fighting, they both kept arguing back and forth.” Brook continued, his tone growing more serious. “Bege even said that if you didn’t show, then something would happen.”

“What do you mean, something?” I asked, my heart racing at the implication.

“We don’t know,” Brook admitted, his expression grave. “But Sanji willingly left with Bege and helped us escape. He said that he was going to deal with his… family, along with the whole wedding situation.”

“So now I understand why my wanted poster suddenly showed ‘Vinsmoke Y/N.’ This Ichiji guy was trying to claim me,” I said, the weight of it all crashing down on me.

"One of Bege's members also whispered something to Sanji which caused him to tense, which also led to him deciding to go," said Brook.

"Okay! If we can't figure it out, then we'll just have to go and ask Sanji!" yelled Luffy.

"You're crazy!" Usopp exclaimed, eyes wide. "Bad idea!" Zoro chimed in, still gripping my waist.

"I'm with you, Luffy!" I declared, causing everyone to turn to me in disbelief. "What?!"

"You guys have to understand, I'm also at stake here," I insisted, pulling out one of my blades from the thigh halter, its blue hue glowing. "I'd like to pay my fiancée Ichiji a visit."

"You’re crazy! So you think we can just waltz on over to Big Mom?" Usopp protested.

"Yeah, we gotta," Luffy affirmed, determination in his eyes.

"She's one of the Four Emperors! We've never faced anyone like that," Robin cautioned.

"Right, which is why we gotta be sneaky!" Luffy said, and I pointed at him, nodding. "That's the idea."

"Now that I think of it... I might know a way," Chopper added thoughtfully. "They did leave someone behind, so he could tell us something helpful."

As time continued to pass, I found myself leaning against Zoro as we traveled to Cat Viper. His hands traced soothing patterns on my body, trying to ease my anxiety. My blades were now back on their halter. I turned to look up at him; he met my gaze with a lazy grin, clearly enjoying the moment of peace.

"Poor Pekoms, he put himself in harm's way to defend us," Brook said with a sigh.

"We need to know where to find Sanji. Pekoms is the best lead we have," he continued.

"Right! He'll talk to me. If not, I'll drag it out of him," Luffy declared, enthusiasm bubbling over. "Then when we find Sanji, we can figure out if he’s getting married or what."

"And I can kick Ichiji's ass and make him take off his last name on my wanted poster! It’s a win-win if you ask me!" I chimed in, grinning.

We finally arrived at Cat Viper's location, greeted once again by the guardians. Pedro came down from the tree, his demeanor sheepish as he apologized for attacking Luffy earlier.

"Go see Bepo; they’re in the back," said Pedro, motioning for us to move.

"Not right now. We want to talk to Cat Viper and Lion Viper first," Luffy responded, his tone firm.

Pedro leaned in closer and whispered, "Pekoms is awake. We should head to the back."

Chopper, starstruck by a lady reindeer, decided to check on Cat Viper himself. I couldn't help but smirk at the interaction. Robin, Brook, and Usopp followed Chopper, while Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Wanda, Carrot, and I made our way to see Pekoms.

As we approached, Pekoms looked weary but determined. "That bastard Bege, I’m sorry I couldn’t do more, but your pal Black Leg’s long gone," he said. "No one can refuse Mama’s wedding."

"As for you, Princess," Pekoms continued, "Ichiji will more than likely look for you since you're not on the boat with Black Leg."

"He can try, but I’ll still be able to kick his ass," I smirked defiantly. "No one is going to force me to marry anybody, and these Vinsmokes can all get their asses kicked too if I have anything to say about it."

Luffy chimed in, "Sanji would never just pick one girl to marry. Besides, he said he was engaged to Y/N already."

I thumped him on the head, feeling my face heat up. "We aren’t engaged!" I snapped, frustration bubbling over. "There were already two agreements established: one was Mama’s, and the other was Sanji’s father. Since, Princess, you are to be married to Ichiji, then you were also invited to Mama’s party, and your wedding is first."

"Again, I’m not marrying anybody," I said, my tone still defiant.

"So what kind of person is Sanji's father?" Nami asked, curiosity shining in her eyes.

"He’s got quite the reputation in the underworld," Pekoms replied, a serious expression crossing his face. "Are you familiar with a group called Germa 66, the warmongers?"

"The Vinsmoke family sits at the top, and their leader is Black Leg’s father," Pekoms said, his voice steady.

"What?!" I exclaimed, disbelief washing over me. "If you know anything about them, then you’d know they are a vicious group of assassins."

Suddenly, the revelation caused me to stumble back slightly. "So... does that mean..." I said in a low voice.

"That’s right, your future husband is an assassin," Pekoms confirmed, his words hanging heavily in the air.

“No way! This can’t be happening!” I shouted, feeling panic rise like a wave threatening to crash over me. My chest tightened as I felt the weight of it all—the forced engagement, Sanji's family, and everything beyond my control. "I won’t be part of this! I refuse to let anyone dictate my life like this!"

Feeling overwhelmed, I muttered a rushed excuse and bolted from the room. Once outside, I pressed my hand to my chest, trying desperately to steady my breathing. The cool air hit my face, but it did little to calm the whirlwind inside me. My other hand gripped my hair tightly, as if holding myself together.

From inside, I could still hear Luffy’s voice, his tone sharp with determination. "Is Sanji coming back to us or not? I don’t care if he’s getting married! Listen, if you think we’re going to work under Big Mom, then you’re crazy! I’m fine with making an alliance, but you guys gotta work for us!"

Luffy's words were bold and comforting in their own way, but I could barely focus. My breaths came shallow, rapid. My heart was pounding too fast, too hard. I was teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack.

Suddenly, I felt strong hands snake around my waist from behind, pulling me close to a warm, familiar chest. "Breathe, princess. Breathe," Zoro’s low voice rumbled in my ear as he gently kissed the back of my neck. His lips grazed my skin, and the sensation sent shivers down my spine.

"I… I can’t—" I started, but he tightened his grip just a little, his calm presence pulling me back from the brink.

"Shhh," he whispered, his lips still close to my neck. "You’re stronger than this. I know you are." His hands slowly moved up to my shoulders, grounding me, his thumbs tracing slow circles. "No one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want. Not Ichiji. Not Sanji’s father. No one."

I leaned back into him, letting his steady breathing guide mine, the storm inside me slowly subsiding.

"You don’t have to handle everything alone," Zoro murmured into my ear, his voice deeper now, filled with something more than just comfort. His lips brushed the edge of my jawline. "You’ve got me. And I won’t let anyone hurt you, not them, not anyone."

I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin, his hands sliding down to my hips, holding me firmly against him. There was a protective intensity in the way he touched me, but something else lingered beneath the surface.

He leaned down, his mouth ghosting over the shell of my ear. "I’d take on the entire Vinsmoke family myself if it meant keeping you safe. Don’t doubt that for a second."

My heart, still racing from the panic, now fluttered for a different reason. "Zoro…" I whispered, his name barely leaving my lips as his hands wandered lower, his touch both reassuring and wanting.

He turned me around slowly, his eyes dark, intense, locking onto mine. "You don’t have to be afraid, Y/N," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Not when I’m here. I won’t let them take you." His forehead rested against mine, his breath mingling with mine as his hands gripped my waist tighter.

"Zoro... thank you for everything," I whispered, my voice barely audible, but he heard it clearly. My hands slid up behind his head, fingers tangling gently in his hair as I scratched lightly at his scalp. He let out a low, quiet groan, the sound rumbling in his chest and sending a thrill through me.

For a moment, I stayed there, relishing the warmth of his body and the comfort he gave me. Slowly, I began to pull away, my heart still racing, though for entirely different reasons now. Before I let him go completely, I leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, feeling the heat of his skin beneath my lips.

"Thank you... again," I whispered, my breath brushing against his face. His eyes stayed locked on mine, the intensity never leaving them as he nodded, though I could see a flicker of something deeper behind those dark eyes.

I turned and made my way back inside, feeling his gaze linger on me as I reentered the room, a small sense of calm returning to my chaotic world.

“So you get it or not?! Go tell Big Mom that’s the deal!” Luffy shouted as I finally reentered the room. My eyes met his as he turned to me, grinning. “Your little eyeballs are funny,” he said with a laugh to Pekoms, as both he and Carrot giggled.

“Either way, neither Blackleg nor the princess can get out of this marriage,” Pekoms muttered darkly.

“And why not?” Luffy snapped back.

“Nobody puts Mama to shame, not without paying the price,” Pekoms responded.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, feeling the dread rise in my chest again.

“In a couple of days, if they don’t show up to the party, Mama’s guests get a surprise. They get a box... with the loved one’s decapitated head in it,” Pekoms said grimly. I felt the weight of his words crash down on me, heavy and suffocating.

Pekoms continued, “It might be one of your heads if Mama sees fit, or maybe it’s one of the heads of Blackleg’s old crew back at the restaurant, or someone who trained with him from Kamabakka Kingdom. And for you, princess, it’s the same. Could be one of your crew, or King, or one of the men you trained with.”

My eyes widened, and rage surged through me. Before I could stop myself, I lunged at Pekoms, grabbing him by the shirt. I didn’t care if he was injured—I wasn’t going to let him finish that threat.

“Now you listen, and you listen good, you lion viper!” I snarled, tightening my grip. “I will not let you or anybody lay a hand on my crew, or King, or the men I trained with back on that island! You got that?!”

“Y/N, relax!” Nami tried to intervene.

“No, Nami, you don’t understand!” I shouted, tears welling in my eyes. “I’d rather die than let anything happen to you or them!” The tears finally spilled over, and I could feel the overwhelming sense of helplessness creeping in.

Luffy’s voice snapped me out of my rage. “Hold on, how do you guys even know all this about Sanji and Y/N?”

“There’s no hope... she’s gonna follow through with it. That’s why no one can fight the Four Emperors,” Pekoms muttered as I released him, feeling a wave of exhaustion hit me.

Pekoms coughed before adding, “Once these marriages happen, Blackleg and the princess will no longer be part of the crew. These marriages are strictly political.”

I felt lightheaded. Luffy, clearly frustrated, grabbed Pekoms and shook him. “What the hell kind of threat is that? Y/N and Sanji are my friends! Okay?!”

“Alright! You can take me with you!” Luffy declared, determined.

“Luffy!” Nami protested.

“Listen, I’m going without you,” Luffy said, turning to her. “I’m with Robin on this one. If we all go together, it’ll be like we’re starting a war.”

Luffy then turned to me. “Y/N, you’re coming with me too!” he said confidently.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” I smirked, pulling my sword from its sheath. “We don’t have time for an all-out war. If I stick with this guy, all we need to do is stop Sanji’s wedding and kick Ichiji’s ass.” said Luffy

“Hey, screw you!” Pekoms interjected.

“Well, too late, Pekoms. Looks like you’re doing it,” I said with defiance.

“I never agreed to this,” Pekoms grumbled.

“And I never agreed to get married. Looks like we both got issues,” I shot back, making my way outside.

As I stepped out, I could see Luffy and Zoro talking. “You’re worried about Sanji too, huh?” Luffy asked.

“You want me to cut you? I’m more worried about Y/N than that lovesick cook,” Zoro muttered.

I couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Thank you for worrying about me, Zo,” I said as I leaned in, placing a kiss on his cheek. He was taken off guard, eyes widening in surprise.

Just then, Usopp called out. “Hey! Luffy! Zoro! Y/N!”

The rest of the crew caught up to us, and Chopper asked, “Hey, how’s Pekoms doing?”

“Oh, good! You’re here! Pekoms is bleeding a lot and banging his head—better check him out,” Luffy said casually as Chopper rushed over.

“Hey there! You guys must be the Straw Hats!” a voice called out. We turned to see Cat Viper approaching, towering over us.

“He’s so cute!” I squealed in surprise.

Suddenly, Cat Viper charged at us with excitement, giving us a giant thank-you “Garchu,” knocking Luffy, Zoro, and me onto the ground.

“Ugh... oww,” I groaned.

Luffy, who had already bounced back up, grinned. “Alright, Zoro, it’s your turn.”

As I tried to pull myself back up, Zoro straddled me, smirking down with his trademark lazy grin. “I’m actually starting to like this position,” he said with a teasing edge to his voice.

I felt my cheeks flush at his words, but I rolled my eyes, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. “You would,” I muttered, trying to push him off, but his weight remained firm, pinning me beneath him. His grin only widened as he watched my futile attempts.

“Zoro! Get off her, we don’t have time for this!” Usopp called from behind, half-panicked but also mildly amused by the scene

Zoro’s irritation was palpable as he pulled out his swords, but I couldn’t help but laugh at his frustration. “If you want to garchu to death, do it without me!” he barked at Cat Viper, who looked like he was having the time of his life despite the injuries.

Luffy and I burst into laughter at the sight of Zoro dealing with the giant feline's enthusiastic energy. "Come on, Cat, get up! We’re going to fight!” Zoro growled, drawing his two swords.

“Woah, take it easy! He’s still injured,” Usopp shouted, trying to calm Zoro down.

Zoro, with a cocky grin, muttered, “So? He’s got nine lives. About to be eight, though!”

I quickly smacked him on the head, giving him a stern look. “Don’t be rude!”

Amid the playful chaos, I heard Luffy call out, “Hey, Traffy!” My gaze followed his voice, and there stood Law with his usual stoic expression, seemingly ignoring the lively commotion. “Is this your crew!” said Luffy eying traffys crew.

“Those are the Heart Pirates, twenty members strong,” Luffy said, pointing toward Law’s crew. Each of them struck poses in unison, proudly displaying their unity.

“Thanks for taking care of our captain, Strawhat!” they called out in unison.

“No problem!” Luffy replied with his signature grin.

Law, ever the serious one, tried to steer the situation back on track. “Let’s talk in private,” he said, causing his crew to boo in disappointment.

“We’re not having a party, and we’re not friends. We are strategic allies,” Law added, his tone firm.

I couldn’t resist the chance to tease him. I crossed my arms and smirked. “Ohh, is that so?” I said, stepping forward.

Law’s eyes widened when he finally noticed me. “Princess... I...”

Before he could finish, I clenched my left fist playfully and leaped into the air, landing gracefully beside him. “Are we really just strategic allies?” I teased, leaning in slightly with a playful smirk.

Law, flustered, was about to reply, but before he could, Bepo’s loud voice interrupted. “Y/N!”

I laughed as I turned to Bepo, who was already making his way toward me. “Bepo! Come here!” I exclaimed, running toward the giant polar bear, who lifted me effortlessly and nuzzled my cheek. His soft fur tickled my face, making me laugh harder. “I missed you!”

When Bepo finally set me down, I turned to see Penguin and Shachi standing nearby, their expressions a delightful mix of awkwardness and warmth. “Penguin, Shachi! Always good to see you!” I exclaimed, pulling both of them into a hug. They exchanged glances, unsure whether to hug back or blush, their faces turning a bright shade of pink.

“It’s great to see you too, princess!” they finally said, giving in to the hug with relieved smiles.

“And these must be the rest of the Heart Pirates,” I noted, eyeing the crew curiously. “I’m sorry if your captain hasn’t introduced us to you guys, but my name is—”

“Ohh, we know who you are!” one member interrupted with a playful smirk.

“Yeah, Captain goes on and on about you,” another chimed in, grinning.

“Oh really? Is that so?” I teased, turning my gaze to Law, who was trying his best to maintain a stoic expression while Luffy pointed and laughed at him. I could see a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.

Bepo's eyes widened in excitement as he spotted the half heart necklace hanging from my neck. “Ohh, Y/N! Is that the heart necklace?” he asked, practically bouncing on his feet.

“Yes, it is, Bepo! But while I was with Doflamingo, he yanked it and it split in two. So I keep one, and Law kept the other. He’s wearing it too,” I explained, smiling at the memory.

“Look at that! Our captain has a matching accessory with the princess!” Penguin teased, elbowing Shachi, who giggled in response.

“Getting pretty cozy, aren’t we, Captain?” Shachi added, winking at Law.

I laughed at the teasing, enjoying the light-hearted atmosphere. Just then, Law suddenly teleported next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. His hat tilted forward, casting a shadow over his face as if to shield himself from the relentless banter of his crew.

“Don’t mind them, princess.,” he said, trying to play it off casually, though the smirk on his face betrayed his amusement. I rolled my eyes playfully.

In response, Law leaned closer, whispering softly, “At least I can hide my face while still being close to you.” He then subtly pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder, his breath warm against my skin. The gesture sent a delightful shiver down my spine, and I couldn’t help but smile at the unexpected sweetness amid all the teasing.

The crew exchanged glances, clearly noticing the moment, and Shachi raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wow, look at you, Captain! Getting all romantic now!”

“Shut up,” Law muttered, but I could see the hint of a smile creeping onto his lips, even as he tried to maintain his usual stoic demeanor.

Bepo grinned, clearly pleased for his captain. “I think it’s sweet!” I laughed, pulling away from Law’s embrace. “I’ll see you inside, okay?” I said, placing a hand gently on his cheek and slowly gliding down to his chin, making sure to savor the moment just a bit longer.

With a playful smirk, I clenched my left hand once more and leaped into the air. “Great meeting you guys! I can’t wait to hang out more!” I called back, waving as I made my way toward Luffy.

“Well, that was fun!” I said, laughing as I joined Luffy, who wore a wide grin.

Minutes passed, and Law, along with our crew, finally stepped inside. Usopp was animatedly giving him the rundown of everything, from Sanji's arranged marriage to my own alleged engagement.

Law’s expression darkened at the mention of my supposed marriage, his brows knitting together in frustration. “What do you mean, Y/N is getting married?” he snapped, his voice low but intense.

Usopp scratched his head, looking sheepish. “Uh, well, it’s a long story, but apparently, she’s supposed to marry Ichiji from the Vinsmoke family,” he explained.

“Like hell I am!” I interjected, crossing my arms defiantly. “I won’t let anyone dictate my life like that!”

Law's gaze softened slightly as he looked at me, but the irritation was still evident in his posture. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this, Y/N. We need to figure out a way to stop it,” he said, his voice calmer now but filled with determination.

“Don’t worry, Y/N and I are going to get Sanji and kick this Ichiji guy’s ass!” Luffy declared, grinning broadly while seated on top of Cat Viper, who looked a mix of bemused and amused.

“Do you mind if we hold off fighting Kaido a little?” Luffy asked, glancing around.

“Not really my call. Anywhere around it, Kaido is going to come for us,” Law replied, standing next to me with a serious expression. “My original plan was to hide out here in Zou for a while, but now that they know we’re here, we’re screwed. If they come back for us and invade this country, then its people will suffer, and it’ll be all our fault.”

Just then, the minks overheard, and a few of them began to shed tears. “That is so kind!” one of them exclaimed, clearly touched by Law’s concern.

Cat Viper, who had been resting, suddenly woke up with a loud declaration. “Let’s have a party! BBQ time!”

The mood instantly shifted as everyone cheered, and we began to feast on the meals provided. The smell of grilled meat filled the air, and drinks flowed freely.

“Cheers!” I said, raising my cup with a wide smile, surrounded by my friends. “Again, this is great booze,” I added, taking a long sip.

Zoro, sitting next to me with his drink in hand, smirked. “You know, if you keep enjoying it this much, you might turn into a total lush.”

I laughed, nudging him playfully with my elbow. “And what’s wrong with that? Someone has to keep the party going!”

As we all dug into the delicious food, Cat Viper brought out a massive tray of lasagna, setting it in front of us. “This is my special recipe!” he proclaimed proudly.

As I took a generous bite of the lasagna, I couldn’t help but let out a little moan of delight. “This is so yummy!” I exclaimed, savoring the flavors.

“Zoro, are you okay?” I asked, noticing he wasn’t looking at the food but at me, his gaze intense, a darker hue glinting in his eyes.

He blinked a few times, seemingly pulled from a trance. “Uh, yeah,” he replied, a slight flush creeping onto his cheeks. “I just didn’t expect that sound to come from you.”

I raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on my lips. “What, you never heard someone enjoy their food before?”

Zoro smirked, leaning a bit closer. “Not like that. You’ve got to be careful; a sound like that might give someone the wrong idea.”

“Maybe I want to give someone the right idea,” I shot back, my heart racing a little at the implication.

Time passed and I found myself settled against Zoro's chest, the warmth of his body enveloped me like a comforting blanket. The night had taken on a cheerful glow, with laughter and chatter filling the air, but as the drinks began to flow, I felt a gentle drowsiness creeping in.

"Zoro, what are you..." I started to ask, but he shushed me softly, his grip tightening around me as he pulled me closer. "Shhhh, get some rest," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that soothed me.

With the rhythmic beating of his heart echoing in my ears, I let my eyes flutter shut, my mind drifting in and out of sleep. "You know, it's kind of funny," I confessed, the wine loosening my tongue. "The way you're holding me is the same way Sabo used to hold me back when I was training."

Zoro, feeling a bit tipsy himself, chuckled softly. “Yeah? Well, Sabo’s not here now, and I’m not letting you go.” He tilted his head back slightly, allowing a lazy grin to spread across his face. “Plus, I think I’m better at it than he is.”

I couldn’t help but giggle softly, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. “Is that so?” I teased. “What makes you think that?”

He smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Because I’m not just holding you for training; I’m holding you because I want to.” There was a playful confidence in his voice, and even in my drowsy state, I felt a flutter in my chest at his words.

“Is that your way of flirting, Roronoa?” I half-laughed, half-yawned, snuggling deeper into his embrace.

“Maybe it is,” he replied, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he tightened his hold, making me feel safe and cherished. “But don’t get used to it. I might just be too tired to do it again tomorrow.”

“Yeah, right,” I mumbled, already slipping into the comforting embrace of sleep. The last thing I heard before I fully succumbed to slumber was Zoro’s low chuckle, warm and reassuring, echoing in the night air.

Third person POV…

As the party continued around them, Zoro found himself enveloped in a haze of warmth and contentment, his heart beating steadily beneath Y/N’s gentle weight. The laughter and chatter of the crew were like distant echoes, a soundtrack to this rare moment of tranquility. He had always been the stoic swordsman, known for his fierce loyalty and unwavering resolve, yet here he was, cradling Y/N as if she were the most precious treasure in the world.

The soft rise and fall of her chest against his own made him acutely aware of the closeness they shared. In that cocoon of warmth, he allowed himself to let down the walls he had carefully constructed over the years. “What am I even doing?” he muttered softly to himself, a mixture of disbelief and acceptance washing over him. “This isn’t like me at all.”

Zoro’s tipsy mind spun with thoughts he rarely entertained. He thought about how Y/N had a way of breaking through his defenses, melting the ice that surrounded his heart. The way she laughed, the way she fought, and how fiercely she cared for her friends—it all drew him in like a moth to a flame.

“You’re not just some princess,” he whispered, his fingers absently tracing patterns on her back. “You’re… different.” He shook his head slightly, as if trying to shake off the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. “It’s a pain, you know?”

Yet, beneath his gruff exterior, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he glanced down at her peaceful face. She looked so serene, lost in her dreams, and for a fleeting moment, Zoro wished he could protect that tranquility forever. “You’re going to get me killed,” he murmured, half-laughing as he recalled the danger that seemed to follow her wherever she went.

As he sat there, holding her close, the tension from earlier began to fade. His thoughts drifted back to Sabo, to the challenges they faced, and to the looming threat of the Vinsmoke family. But in this moment, none of that mattered. All that existed was the two of them, wrapped in the soft glow of lantern light and the warmth of camaraderie.

Y/N stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent that brought a grin to Zoro’s face. “What did you say?” he teased, gently shaking her. She responded with a soft sigh, nuzzling deeper into his chest. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he chuckled, feeling his heart swell with affection.

In that moment of vulnerability, he leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead. It was a subtle gesture, but it carried the weight of unspoken words. “I’ve got your back, you know? Always,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

Just then, Cat Viper’s booming laughter broke through the haze, and Zoro’s attention flickered momentarily to the chaos surrounding them. He watched as Luffy and the others feasted, their joy infectious, but his heart remained tethered to Y/N.

“You’re trouble, princess,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he pulled her a little closer. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He felt the heat rising in his cheeks, a testament to the alcohol coursing through him and the intoxicating pull Y/N had on his heart.

With a smirk, he pondered how this moment might look to an outsider: the fierce swordsman, often viewed as aloof and detached, holding a girl in his arms, completely lost in the experience. “What would the others think?” he mused to himself, stifling a chuckle.

But as he gazed down at Y/N, he found that he didn’t care. In this world of pirates and chaos, of battles fought and friends lost, she was his anchor, a light in the darkness that surrounded them. “You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, huh?” he whispered, a hint of amusement coloring his tone.

And with that thought, Zoro finally surrendered to the quiet, allowing sleep to take him. The sounds of the party faded into the background as he drifted off, the weight of Y/N in his arms anchoring him in a way he had never imagined possible. For tonight, he was just Zoro, the man who would do anything to keep her safe, and the man who, for the first time, dared to dream of a future where they could both be free.

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