#this is more angsty than i intended and for that i am not sorry

[strangersatellites]

pride, envy, sloth, gluttony, greed, lust, ao3

Seven Deadly Sins Series (NSFW 18+)

wrath (noun): uncontrolled feelings of anger, rage, and even hatred. wrath often reveals itself in the wish to seek vengeance. in its purest form, wrath presents with injury, violence, and hate

cw: rough sex, unhealthy relationships, blood, unsafe sex, choking, slapping, dacryphilia, angst (????) on accident, probably more tbh they genuinely fucking hate each other in this universe

This thing they’d had going on for three months now really had started off fun.

It started out soft and sweet. Stolen kisses in the back of The Hideout, quick, messy blowjobs in the backseat of Steve’s car, booty calls late at night when one or the other couldn’t sleep.

He can’t really identify what went wrong or when. All Steve knows is that the butterflies that he used to get when Eddie came around have turned and twisted into something sharp and heavy. Now when they’re within earshot of each other it's all biting insults and low-blows.

Somewhere along the line, the happiness that Eddie planted in his heart morphed into bitter resentment. But Steve’s nothing if not self-sacrificial, and the sex was too good to give up. Who is he to deny himself of the only good thing Eddie has left to offer him? So now he finds himself shoved into bar bathrooms and left high and dry, bruises mottled up and down his chest and dark bags under his eyes from a fitful sleep. Somehow he’s convinced himself it's better than nothing.

On nights where he can’t shake the memory of Eddie’s lips on his and his heart fluttering pretty and soft, he goes out. 

He goes out to a seedy club and he finds someone that he won’t remember the name of in the morning and he tries anything to clear his mind. Nothing’s ever as good.

Tonight he’s found himself a few beers deep and tracing water stains on the bar top at some place he’s never been just outside of town. He’d spent the last ten minutes or so talking to a guy that looked like he’d show him a good enough time. Dark, curly hair cut so that it flopped down into his face, pretty blue eyes that went a shade darker when they looked Steve over, and a shirt cut low enough that Steve could see ink swirl across his collarbones in vines and leaves. 

Steve thinks his name is Adam, but he wasn’t really listening and still really isn’t. He’s found that a few soft laughs and hums while guys talk is usually enough to feign interest long enough to coax them to a bathroom. 

This guy, Adam maybe, is about two seconds away from dragging him there himself, he can tell. It’s written all over his body language. Steve smiles his prettiest smile and flutters his eyelashes.

But as soon as he opens his mouth to purr something like “Do you want to get out of here?” There are strong arms snaking around his waist and teeth scraping at his throat and Steve’s blood runs hot in an instant. He’s well-accustomed to it no longer being a good sensation.

Steve shoves his elbow back with as much force as he can muster and it all goes red before he even hears his chuckle.

“Strike out again, Harrington? I made it just in time then, huh sweetheart,” Eddie coos in a tone dripping with condescension.

He’s on his feet and shoving at Eddie’s chest with enough force he knows it’ll bruise, sees it knock the wind out of him a bit. Gets right up in his face and would do anything to rip that self-satisfied smirk right off of it.

“You miserable fucking prick,” he spits, uncaring of the way Eddie flinches back the tiniest bit. “I was not striking out, and I never am! And yet here you come acting like you’re saving some damsel in distress when it’s you crawling back to me. Every. Single. Time,” he punctuates with jabs to his chest. 

Eddie’s smile doesn’t leave as he huffs a laugh. His tongue swipes across sharp, sharp teeth and he leers at Steve with narrowed eyes. Predatory in a way Steve liked once upon a time but now makes him want to punch out his teeth. He’s got his hands in his pockets and he looks entirely too comfortable with the fact that he just ruined Steve’s night. Again.

“God, sweetheart. You’re so wound up,” he whispers, face pinching up in faux concern. He brings his hands up to smooth down Steve’s biceps and digs his fingers in tight enough that he doesn’t budge with Steve’s attempts at shaking him off. “Tell me. When was the last time someone fucked you good enough that you remembered his name the next morning, now be honest.” He leans in close and that smirk is back and Steve hates it. “You can say it was me, honey. It’ll be our little secret.” 

And Steve’s seeing red again because he’s right. 

It was him. It’s always him and probably always will be. 

He gets back up in his space once more and makes sure he’s looking at his eyes when he whispers a sharp “Fuck. You.”

And it's only for a split second but he swears he sees hurt flash through brown eyes. Gone in an instant and replaced with a real, raw indifference that Steve thinks might be worse. 

He feels a hand at the back of his neck and Eddie’s lips brush his ear. 

“Yours or mine?”

And it was always going to go like this. Steve’s not under any illusions. Knew this time wouldn’t be different. But it still stings the way that he knows in an alternate universe that question might’ve been accompanied with giggles and a kiss. 

But then he remembers the way that Eddie looked so proud when Steve first said he hated him and the rage is back ten-fold.

He turns on his heel and knows he’s being followed.

“Yours. Don’t want you in my fucking house.”

*****

Steve’s got Eddie’s wrists pinned to the wall above his head and his teeth raking down his neck. Wants to leave a mark. A memory. 

He hears Eddie gasp as Steve’s hips shove hard against his own and he shoves harder in retaliation.

“Remember when you used to kiss me?” Steve asks, Eddie’s breath against his face enough to pull some bricks from the walls he’s spent months building.

He feels more than hears Eddie’s hum. Feels his knee come up to shove him backwards until he’s the one pressed against the wall, face turned sideways and arms pinned behind his back.

“Yeah sweetheart.” He leans in to bite at Steve’s ear and make him hiss.

Steve’s grinning, ugly and mean when he grits out “Worst decision of my fucking life.”

But now Eddie’s the one smirking, he can hear it when he speaks. “Mine too. Liked my life a lot better when I didn’t know what you taste like.”

Steve aims for the shin when he bucks a foot backwards, nails it if Eddie’s grunt is anything to go by. He spins around and shoves at Eddie hard enough to send them both to the floor, grateful for a second the fact that his muscle mass makes it easy to manhandle his way into what he wants. 

He laughs, loud and fake. “Now see, that I just don’t believe, Eddie.” He’s got his eyebrows raised high and pout on his lips and he knows what’s coming and he relaxes into it.

And yeah maybe Steve’s strong, but Eddie knows him. Knows when his guard is down. He gets his knees up around Steve’s hips and flips them over, Steve’s back against the ground and there’s the fury Steve’s been after. Been trying to bring it out all night.

Eddie’s got a ringed hand pressed tight against Steve’s throat when he finally lets himself feel. Feel good the way only Eddie can make him. Lets the fight drain out of him as his vision goes spotty. Eddie’s spitting words in his face, “Do you ever shut the fuck up?” and saliva into his mouth and it’s so bad-good.

His next breath is heaving as he comes back down and Eddie’s already standing and walking away. 

“Get up. I don’t have all night.”

And now that he’s got Eddie mad, got him fired up, he knows he can let himself go. Lets himself fall even though he knows Eddie’s not going to catch him. Thinks it's worth it until it's not. Until tomorrow when he remembers the way he and Eddie won’t look at each other when their friends are around. They way they don’t talk.

Because this is how it's always going to go. He’s going to let Eddie rile him up, make his sharp, heavy butterflies flutter out in words he thinks he doesn’t really mean. He’s going to push and push and push until Eddie breaks. And even though he started it, Eddie always will. Break, that is. He’ll break out of his self-assured, indifferent asshole persona and he’ll turn into something real and mean. Someone that hates Steve back. 

Steve thinks it shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

There’s nothing gentle about the way Eddie stretches him open. The way he smacks the inside of Steve’s thigh hard enough it leaves a welt the shape of his hand. 

He’s got two fingers inside him and Steve feels so good and he can’t help but talk. Head thrown back, words fall from his lips between desperate moans. 

“Hate you so fucking much.”

A smack to his ass and a dejected huff. 

“Yeah. I know you do sweetheart."

Steve groans in annoyance but his back arches all the same.

“Hate it when you call me that.”

And he’s not looking but he knows Eddie is rolling his eyes. 

“I know you do, baby.”

And there’s tears pricking at the back of his eyes because sure he really does hate this man. Really does think he’d have been better off never meeting him. But all he can hear when Eddie calls him “baby” is the way he used to say it through laughter against his skin.

He knows he’s pouting but he thinks he deserves it with the bitter memories he’s fighting away. “Hate that even worse.”

Eddie pulls his fingers out and crawls up his body to squeeze at his cheeks until he fishmouths.

“I know. Now shut up and stop crying. You wanted me mean and you’ve fucking got it baby.”

Steve gasps high in his throat when Eddie grabs him by his hips and flips him onto his belly and something about this flavor of anger Eddie’s wearing sets Steve off again. But this time his anger isn’t a facade. It's raw and real and it's hurt that got brushed aside and became something else entirely.

“Hate what we could’ve been. Hate that I hate you.” He says into a pillow.

He hears Eddie groan and not in a good way. In the way he does when he’s annoyed. He feels his weight lay over his back and his hand on the inside of his thigh yanking upward and open.

“Well I hate that you don’t know when to stop talking." He grits out and the pressure as he presses inside Steve is enough to make him white out.

By the time he builds up a bruising rhythm, punching Steve’s breath out of him on every thrust, he’s talking again.

“Could’ve given you everything you wanted sweetheart,” and his tone is so patronizing, “But it just wasn’t fucking enough was it?”

And Steve’s barely holding on to his consciousness through the pressure deep in his guts and the hand pressing the back of his neck down, down, down. But he’s still got enough wherewithal that that strikes a chord.

Because no, having Eddie behind closed doors wasn’t enough. And Eddie knows that. He knows how that hurt him and chooses to use it against him anyway.

His voice is muffled into the pillow and broken up by whimpers and whines but he speaks anyway.

“Well it wasn’t my– shit, so good. Wasn’t my pride that got in the way.”

Eddie’s hips slow to a deep grind and freeze pressed to the hilt.

The hand at the back of Steve’s neck slides to the front and yanks him up on his knees, pressed against Eddie’s chest.

His chest is heaving where its plastered to Steve’s back and his voice rumbles through them both.

“Maybe not. But it was you that kept your mouth shut and made it my fault.”

Steve goes to argue but gets cut off by the sharp stinging of teeth breaking the skin against his shoulder blade. His breath goes ragged on a shriek and his vision whites out around the edges. Eddie’s shoving him back down, ass-up and face smushed sideways. His hand slips up and pries his mouth wide open and shoves in hard, stopping anything he could possibly say. Steve’s eyes are wide where he’s staring, gone glassy and wet.

“And it looks like now you don’t know how to do that, do you baby?” He asks.

And he’s got his fingers down his throat and his dick shoved deep.

There’s blood dripping from his teeth in that sharp, bitter smile. And he’s so pretty. And Steve hates him.

He chokes around his fingers on a sob as Eddie picks up his pace again.

Hates that it feels so good.

Hates that he comes back for this.

Hates that Eddie’s right.

Because maybe he can’t pinpoint when or where things went south, but he knows it has everything to do with the way he started needing more and not asking for it. Knows Eddie was letting him figure it out on his own. And instead of just going for it, he knows he started blaming.

So maybe he does hate Eddie. Hates him for the way he didn’t push him when he knew he needed it. Hates that he still uses him like this. 

But he really hates himself. Because he could’ve had what he wanted but he didn’t take it.

(Hates that tomorrow he’ll forget this all again, too far in his head and in the feeling of Eddie taking what he wouldn’t give. He’ll forget it all and go back to hating him again.)

A sharp smack to the outside of his thigh brings him barreling back down into reality and it's Eddie’s words that send him hurdling into release.

“Here you fucking go again with the crying. God I hate that you’re so fucking pretty.”

Steve hates that that’s what does it for him. Hates that his crying is what does it for Eddie. Hates the way he’s filled up and will have to go home messy, the way Eddie pulls out of him and throws him his clothes.

He hears the flick of a lighter and Eddie’s heavy inhale from far away.

“I assume you can show yourself out.”

As Steve pulls his shirt over his head and wipes the tear tracks from his face he thinks “Yeah. This is why I hate him.”

And from the other side of the room Eddie thinks that if Steve would say half of the things that run through his mind with Eddie inside him, maybe they wouldn’t hate each other at all.

[20-th-centurygirl]

never yours to have

brothers bsf!jude bellingham x fem!reader

summary: he was never yours but it didn't stop you from wishing he was

a/n: i am RUSTY so please show this some love thanks 😌 i'm also not really an angsty writer so this is not my normal style

navigation masterlist

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

10 years you'd known jude. he was 11 and you were 10. he was best friends with your brother. you'd been close for as long as you could remember. all his moves to different countries you'd been there. all his hard times you'd been there and him vice versa. there was never any sort of label between you as you got older. your brother had always told jude you were out of bounds and told you jude was out of bounds and that was that.

you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't find him attractive, of course you did. but you were certain of two things: he was your brothers best friend and he had one hell of a reputation for being a fuckboy. you couldn't really blame him for that second part, but you always told yourself it was something to be weary of. you'd never be reduced to a number, and your brother would no doubt kill you and jude if something happened anyway.

little did you know your feelings were being reciprocated ten times stronger. everytime he was near you his heart skipped a beat. it was wrong. maybe that's why he wanted you so badly, because he knew he could never have you. you were his best friends sister, strictly off limits. but he couldn't help it. your smile, your laugh, your eyes, your voice, everything about you was perfection. to jude, you were the most beautiful person inside and out. and oh how he wished you could be his person.

your brother had decided that it was necessary to have a huge house party for his birthday, and you'd been forced to go. you weren't exactly happy to be, much preferring a quiet evening but the prospect of seeing jude after him being away for so long made you alot more excited than you wanted to admit. you couldn't help but keep glancing over to the door, waiting for jude to arrive. but when he finally did you wished he hadn't. he brought a girl? not just any girl either, quite frankly she was the most beautiful girl you'd ever seen and there she was hanging off his arm. she was perfect and she had jude. bitch.

it was immature, it was petty and it was stupid. nothing had ever happened between you and jude, you had always been strictly friends so you weren't really sure why you felt the way you did. why did this have to be the time you realised your feelings? but you were still angry, still hurt. it was irrational and you knew it, so your solution was to get drunk and avoid jude like the plague. but you couldn't run forever

"where have you been hiding?" he appeared behind you.

"shit jude. why would you sneak up on me like that?" your drink had gone all down your top. perfect.

"m sorry. come here" he grabbed a towel and attempted to dry you, something which any other time would be completely fine with you. but this time it felt wrong. you snatched it out his hand, admittedly alot more aggressively than you intended. "what's with you? can't take the drink?" he was drunk, and his arrogance was no longer attractive, it was infuriating to you. "shut up jude. i just don't think your girlfriend would appreciate watching you feeling me up" you spat and turned on your heel.

but he followed you. "what the fuck does that mean?"

"just leave me alone jude"

"no what's with you? you've been avoiding me since you've i got here and now you're making digs"

"no i'm not"

"are you jealous?"

"i'm sorry?" was he serious?

"are you jealous?"

"i heard you the first time jude. no i am not. why would you even think that?"

"don't know, but it would explain why you're acting so stupid"

you had nothing to say to that. ultimately he was right. you should be happy for him. why weren't you?

he paused, then talked slower and calmer than before.

"you know there's nothing going on between us right? we're just friends. she knows someone else here so we just decided to go together"

"then why was she all over you?" you mumbled, matching his low tone

"dunno. she'd had a few pre drinks so she was just tipsy"

you stared at him again.

"i like you y/n. not in a friend way. in a i can't think straight around you way. and your brother will probably kill me but i can't keep this in anymore. i don't want you to think i'm with anyone else because you're the only one i want"

"jude don't fuck me about" you were barely whispering, too afraid for this to all be some sort of joke.

"i wouldn't dream of it. i mean every word y/n. i think i'm inlove with you"

you'd unconsciously stepped alot closer to him, gazing up with glassy eyes. your brain screamed that he was drunk, that he was a player, that he was your brothers best friend but your heart said otherwise. you liked him too and you were gonna give it your best shot.

it was like he'd read your mind. one hand slipped to the back of your neck, pulling your lips to his while another fell to your waist. he was angelic. so gentle, so careful. he kissed you like you were fine china. a prized jewel that needed all the respect in the world. you melted into him. it was perfection, something you'd been dreaming of for years. the kiss meant absolutely everything to you. everything.

you could've kissed him forever if your brother hadn't come outside to find you both. "what're you both doing out here? it's cold come inside"

jude grinned at you in a way that had your heart bursting. "come on"

it wasn't long before he'd disappeared. and he'd been gone a while. you thought nothing of his absence until you noticed she was missing. you made your way upstairs looking for him when you heard someone else call out his name. another girl.

no, surely it wasn't.

the shout had come from the bathroom. you walked slowly, shaking hand turning the handle. you knew then and there what had happened. you knew you should've walked away. but you didn't. some twisted part of you wanted to check, and if it was what you thought it was, you wanted him to know you knew. you wanted him to know he'd hurt you. so you opened the door and you were met with a sight that made you feel physically sick. she hadn't seen you, clearly lost in her own please and her hair being held in jude's hand probably didn't help her ability to look in the mirror and see you. but he did. he met your eyes in the reflection. regret clouded his face instantly and he stopped. her head raised at his halted movements, clearly confused and you muttered a quick sorry before slamming the door.

you couldn't breathe. you needed to get out, get away from him and his lies. you ran back out to the garden that he'd confessed his feelings for you and kissed you in not even 20 minutes ago. you stood in the same spot and you let your tears fall.

why were you so upset? he was never yours to have

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ IF ONLY

❛ 𝘢𝘮 𝘪 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺? 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯. 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵? 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦. 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪’𝘮 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮? 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦, 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪’𝘮 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦— 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺. ❜

timeline: 2017 & 2018

synopsis: A moment of vulnerability, a confession left unanswered, and a heart quietly breaking— If only things had gone differently, but some stories take time to unfold.

warnings: cursing, crying, misunderstanding, drinking, angst, drunk confessions, rejection, sad!Luna, confused!Jeonghan, heartaches, talks about embracing the pain, unrequited love (?), a somewhat hopeful ending

surprise! my first ever one-shot in the Luna-verse, I really hope you guys like it! Also… I am so sorry for making this sad and angsty. A lot of you have been asking me about how Jeonghan rejected Luna ever since I posted the Group Ships… so here it is, but I promise it gets better from here. Luna and Jeonghan’s story is very very interesting so keep a lookout on that 🤍 (p.s. I made myself cry writing this.)

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

If only she wasn’t the way she was, that is what Luna thought growing up.

Luna had always found it difficult to make friends. From a young age, she was used to the way people looked at her— peers who seemed to keep their distance, children her age who were either too intimidated by her or too quick to judge. The few times she had tried to approach someone, their hesitation or outright dismissal had stung.

But with time, Luna learned to accept it. She carried herself with an air of quiet confidence, convincing herself that she didn’t need to fit in with the rest. Even as a child, she’d find comfort in the quiet, the solitude that followed her like a shadow.

That sense of isolation followed her into her teenage years, long after she had moved back to Korea to chase her dream of becoming an idol. At just fourteen, she had thrown herself into a world where competition was everything.

It was hard enough to adjust to the grueling training regimen, but there was something even more challenging— forming connections.

Surrounded by other trainees, Luna had hoped that maybe here, in the shared space of hard work and ambition, she would finally find people who understood her.

Instead, the distance only grew.

The girls she trained with didn’t just avoid her because of her looks. They avoided her because of her talent, her skill, and her determination.

Luna was better than them, and they knew it.

Every time she entered the practice room, Luna could feel the stares. Her sharp movements and flawless execution stood out, but not in the way she had hoped. It didn’t make people want to get closer to her. It made them wary as if they were afraid her presence alone was a threat.

Luna never intended to intimidate anyone; she simply wanted to do her best. But no matter how hard she worked, it seemed to push people further away.

Luna had taken it as a compliment as she got older. But back then, it was suffocating, watching the others group together while she was always left on the sidelines, untouchable, unapproachable.

If only she could have done something differently.

If only people could see beyond her cold exterior.

If only people weren't so quick to judge.

As she grew older, she tried to find some comfort in the idea that perhaps this distance was a compliment. If they were intimidated, it meant they saw her as someone to be taken seriously, someone skilled enough to be a rival. And rivals didn’t need to be friends, right?

But even as she told herself this, the isolation lingered. There were times when the silence became suffocating, and she wondered if anyone would ever approach her without that look in their eyes.

No one ever did.

Not until Jeonghan.

She remembered the first time they met vividly like it was etched into her mind.

It was her first day at PLEDIS after she had transferred from YG Entertainment. She had expected it to be just like the others— people watching her from a distance, maybe a polite nod or two but no real effort to get to know her.

But Jeonghan had been different from the start.

While the other trainees kept to their familiar circles, glancing at her curiously but saying nothing, Jeonghan had walked right up to her. His messy swept hair was already growing since then, and there was a smile on his face— easy and warm as if they had known each other for years.

“Hi,” he had said, extending his hand to her. “I’m Jeonghan. What’s your name?” he’d said with a casual smile like it was the most natural thing in the world. His warmth disarmed her and made her wonder why he didn’t hesitate like the others.

Luna had blinked, momentarily stunned by his straightforwardness. She had been so used to people shying away from her that for a second, she didn’t know how to respond.

“I... I’m Jiyeon,” she had managed to say, her voice uncharacteristically small. “Or Luna… you can also call me Luna.”

“Jiyeon or Luna,” Jeonghan repeated, his smile widening. “Welcome. If you need anything, just let me know.”

That was it. No fanfare, no awkward small talk— just a simple greeting, but it had meant the world to her.

It still does.

Jeonghan was the first person to make her feel like she wasn’t an outsider in the cutthroat world of trainee life. From that moment on, he became a constant presence in her life.

He became her first friend within the company and her first proper friend ever. The one who cheered her on during monthly evaluations when no one else would.

His voice would always rise above the whispers of competition, “You’ve got this, Nana-ya!” he’d say, his voice full of encouragement.

And when she did well— when she ranked first during one of the most intense evaluations— it was Jeonghan who was the first to congratulate her, beaming with pride as if her success was his own.

If only she had realized back then just how important he’d become to her.

Jeonghan became her anchor, the one person she could count on when the loneliness threatened to overwhelm her. He was the first one to truly see her—not just as another trainee, but as someone worth knowing.

Jeonghan was her first friend, her first best friend, but he was also the first guy she ever liked.

As time passed, it became clearer. Jeonghan wasn’t just a friend to her. Luna didn’t know when it had happened exactly, but one day, she realized that her feelings for Jeonghan had shifted.

It wasn’t a loud, thunderous realization. It crept in like a slow sunrise, soft and warm.

His easy smiles, the way his hair would fall into his eyes, the effortless kindness he showed not only her but everyone around him. It was the way her heart would flutter when he smiled at her, the way she would find herself glancing at him in the practice room, admiring his soft features, the way he moved with effortless grace… it all felt different.

It made her heart ache, a tender pull that grew with every interaction.

Jeonghan wasn’t just her best friend— he was someone she cared about, someone who had become more important to her than she had ever anticipated.

It started innocently enough, a soft crush that lingered in the back of her mind, growing stronger with every passing day.

Back then, Luna had convinced herself it was just admiration. After all, Jeonghan was everything she wasn’t— outgoing, charming, and effortlessly kind. He had a way of making everyone feel comfortable, and for someone like Luna, who had always been hard to approach, that was something she admired.

But it wasn’t just admiration. She knew that deep down.

If only she could stop herself from liking her best friend.

It terrified her.

Cause just like every first crush, it came with fear.

Fear that he wouldn’t see her the same way.

Fear that their dynamic would change, and the closeness she cherished would slip away.

As a trainee, Luna had done her best to suppress those feelings. She’d bury herself in practice, pushing herself harder and harder, hoping the exhaustion would numb whatever emotions were swirling inside her.

But Jeonghan always seemed to break through that wall. He was the one who encouraged her when she doubted herself, the one who praised her when she felt like she wasn’t good enough, and the one who always made sure she never felt alone.

He had this way of showing up exactly when she needed someone, even when she hadn’t realized she needed anyone at all.

If only it were simple.

If only her heart didn’t race every time he smiled at her during practice, or when he pulled her aside after evaluations just to tell her how well she’d done.

If only she could keep it all together like she wanted to. But every time they stood next to each other on stage, every time they shared a laugh behind the scenes, every time he gave her that gentle, knowing look that only he could, her feelings for him grew stronger, despite how desperately she tried to push them away.

And yet, she knew she couldn’t say anything.

From their trainee days to their debut, Luna kept those feelings locked inside. She’d convinced herself it was better that way. After all, they were in the same group now. They were members of SEVENTEEN, a team. If anything were to happen, if her feelings were ever discovered, it could ruin everything they had worked so hard for.

The thought of jeopardizing that terrified her. That is the last thing she wanted was to complicate things—for herself, for Jeonghan, or the group.

So, for years, Luna held back.

She smiled when Jeonghan smiled at her, laughed when he teased her during practice and pretended it didn’t hurt when he leaned a little too close to one of their other members, playfully tugging on their sleeves the same way he did with her.

Luna tried to delude herself into thinking that her feelings would fade sooner or later.

If only it did.

The feelings persisted, gnawing at her every time they shared a moment. And as much as she tried to hide it, there was no denying the truth: she had hard fallen for him.

Soon, she had become a master of hiding her emotions, of keeping her heart carefully tucked away.

By 2017, she had gotten so good at it that even she almost believed she didn’t care anymore.

Almost.

But it all came crashing down one late night in June, in the quiet of their shared dorm floor. The group had just come home from a long day, having performed at ‘Music Bank’, and the exhaustion clung to them like a heavy fog.

But for Luna and Jeonghan, the night was far from over. It had become their little routine— after a long day, after all the noise and chaos of performing and smiling for the cameras, they would retreat to either Jeonghan or Luna's place, pour a few drinks, and talk.

Tonight was no different.

The apartment was dimly lit, casting a soft glow around the living room where they sat on the floor, leaning against the couch, with half-empty glasses between them. The curtains were drawn shut, blocking out the city lights, and the only sound was the low hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clink of their glasses as they took small sips.

The rest of the members were asleep or off doing their own thing, leaving Luna and Jeonghan in their own little bubble, just as they always had been.

Jeonghan had been talking about something— Luna wasn’t sure what exactly, her mind was too clouded with the effects of the alcohol and the way he was looking at her, that soft, knowing gaze he always gave her when he thought she was overdoing it. His now blonde hair, now tousled from the day, framed his face as he watched her with that same concerned look he always gave her whenever they drank together.

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow, you know,” Jeonghan said, his voice soft but amused. He leaned forward, reaching for her glass as if to take it from her, but Luna pulled it back with a childish pout, cradling it against her chest.

“I’m fine,” she whined, her words slightly slurred, but playful. She leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes for a moment before glancing at him with a half-smile. “We are so busy nowadays that we never get to just… talk anymore. I miss this.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “We’re talking now, aren’t we?”

Luna nodded, her gaze drifting to the ceiling. The room felt heavy with unsaid words, with all the things she’d been holding back for years. And yet, there he was, sitting across from her, calm, composed, completely unaware of the storm raging inside her.

He was so infuriatingly perfect— always knowing what to say, how to make her feel safe, how to make her laugh, how to keep her at a distance just enough that she could never cross that line.

Jeonghan shifted beside her, his arm brushing against hers as he reached for her glass again, gently prying it from her hands this time.

“Nana-ya, you’ll get hungover if you keep this up,” he said, his tone more serious now. His fingers brushed hers as he took the glass, setting it aside, and she hated how even that small touch made her heart race.

If only if her heart stopped doing that.

“I don’t care,” Luna murmured, the alcohol loosening her tongue more than she realized. She slumped further into the couch, her legs stretching out in front of her, her head turning to rest on the cushion behind her.

She watched as Jeonghan stood up, stretching his arms over his head before leaning down to gently take her hand, pulling her up with him.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing as he gently tugged her toward her bedroom.

“I’m not tired,” Luna whined again, stumbling slightly as she followed him, her body swaying from the alcohol.

She felt warm all over, not just from the drinks, but from the way Jeonghan was guiding her with such care, as if she were fragile, something to be protected. His hand was steady, firm but gentle as it held hers, and Luna found herself hating it. Hating how easy it was for him to be like this. How perfect he was.

“We can talk more in the morning. You need to rest.” Jeonghan said, his voice soft but insistent. He led her into her bedroom, helping her sit down on the edge of the bed.

Luna shook her head, her vision blurring slightly as she stared up at him. “You’re too good to me, Hannie,” she mumbled, her words tumbling out without her even realizing it. “You’re… too perfect, it’s annoying.”

Jeonghan paused, crouching down in front of her, his hands resting lightly on her knees as he looked up at her with that same gentle smile. “What are you talking about?” he asked softly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face

Luna's heart clenched. She hated it. Hated how effortlessly he could make her feel like this.

“You make me feel things,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “And I hate it.”

Jeonghan blinked, his smile faltering slightly, but before he could say anything, Luna let out a frustrated sigh, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder. He stayed quiet, his hands gently resting on her back, his touch light, almost hesitant. He didn’t say anything, didn’t push her away, didn’t ask her to explain. He just stayed there, holding her, letting her lean on him as the weight of her words hung in the air between them.

“You’re too perfect,” she repeated, her voice muffled against his shirt. “And I hate it. I hate that you make me feel this way.”

Jeonghan's brows furrowed as he heard her words, the frustration lacing her voice, and something in his chest tightened.

He had a feeling he understood what she meant— he wasn’t oblivious, after all. He’d seen the little signs, the lingering glances, the way her gaze softened whenever he was near. But even with that knowledge, there was a part of him that needed to hear her say it outright. To confirm what he had long suspected but never dared to address.

“What do you mean?” he asked softly, his voice gentle but probing, hoping she would clarify even though he already had an inkling.

Jeonghan’s heart beat a little faster, anxiety swirling in his chest. He didn’t move, his hands still resting lightly on her back, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her shirt. He could feel the heat radiating off her body, the weight of her leaning against him.

Luna pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, her expression a mix of frustration and something else— something raw, something vulnerable.

“I hate you,” she muttered, her words slurred but filled with emotion. “I hate that you make me feel like this.”

Jeonghan blinked, momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of her statement. “What do you mean ‘feel like this’?” he asked again, his voice quieter now, a little more uncertain.

Jeonghan knew, of course, he knew, but hearing her say it— he needed that.

Luna huffed, her frustration growing as she ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands as if trying to pull herself together.

“Since we were trainees, Yoon Jeonghan,” she said, her voice rising just slightly, her words tumbling out faster now as if she couldn’t stop them. “You were always so... nice to me. Too nice. And you were always there, cheering me on, helping me, making me feel like I wasn’t alone. You made me feel so pretty… so loved… so feel special.”

Jeonghan swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He listened, his heart pounding in his chest as she continued.

“And I hated it. I hated how much I needed that. I hated that every time you smiled at me, I felt something. Something I wasn’t supposed to feel.” Luna’s voice cracked, her frustration turning into something more fragile, more pained. “It’s been the same since we were trainees. And even now... even now, you’re still making me feel this way. And I don’t know what to do with it anymore.”

Jeonghan stayed silent, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of her words sinking in, each one hitting him like a stone, and yet... it wasn’t surprising. Not really.

Jeonghan was good at reading people, he had always sensed it— this undercurrent between them, something deeper than friendship, something unspoken that lingered in the spaces between their interactions. But hearing her admit it, hearing the depth of her frustration, her hurt... it made his chest ache in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

“Jiyeon-ah...” he started, his voice soft, but before he could say anything more, Luna slumped forward, her body going limp as the alcohol finally took over. She had passed out, her breathing evening out as she leaned against his chest.

Jeonghan froze for a moment, blinking down at her in surprise. His heart was still racing, his mind spinning with everything she had just said, but as he looked at her now, so peaceful in her sleep, all that frustration and pain gone from her face, he felt a wave of tenderness wash over him.

She looked so fragile in that moment, so vulnerable, and it made something deep inside him stir. He didn’t move right away. Instead, he sat there for a few minutes, watching her, his hand lightly brushing the hair away from her face as she slept. His heart ached for her, for the weight she had been carrying for so long, for the feelings she had kept hidden all these years.

If only things had been different.

If only he had realized sooner.

Jeonghan let out a soft sigh, his fingers trailing through her hair one last time before he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It was light, barely there, but it was all he could offer at that moment.

“Goodnight, pretty angel,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he slowly pulled away.

He stood up, carefully laying her down on the bed and pulling the covers over her, making sure she was comfortable before stepping back. He glanced around the room, his gaze falling on the mess they had left behind in the living room— the half-empty glasses, the bottle of soju, the scattered snacks. With one last look at Luna, he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

Jeonghan made his way back to the living room, his mind still spinning from everything that had happened. He cleaned up in silence, his movements slow and methodical as he cleared the table, washed the glasses, and wiped down the counter. His thoughts kept drifting back to her words, the way she had looked at him, the raw emotion in her voice.

By the time he finished cleaning, the apartment was quiet again, the night settling in around him. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, his hands resting on the back of the couch as he stared at the empty space where Luna had been sitting earlier.

If only he had known earlier.

If only things were simpler.

The next morning, Luna woke up with a pounding headache and three immediate regrets.

If only she didn’t remember what she said to Jeonghan last night.

If only she hadn’t drank so much.

If only she drank more— enough to forget.

But she remembered everything. Every. Single. Thing. And she knew, with a sickening certainty, that Jeonghan did too.

Luna stayed in bed longer than she should’ve, staring up at the ceiling as her mind replayed the previous night’s events on an unrelenting loop. The hazy confession, the way her voice had trembled when she told him she hated how he made her feel—her heart sank deeper with each flash of memory.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to forget, but it was useless. The image of Jeonghan’s face, so soft and caring as she spilled her heart, refused to leave her mind.

Her schedule wouldn’t let her wallow in bed, though. Today was packed with activities: music shows, interviews, rehearsals, variety show tapings, and a radio appearance in the evening.

All of them required her to see Jeonghan.

Dragging herself out of bed, Luna’s stomach twisted at the thought of facing him. How was she supposed to look him in the eye after what she said?

She could still feel the weight of his gaze from the night before, the warmth of his hands guiding her to bed, the way his lips had brushed her forehead so tenderly. Her heart beat faster just thinking about it, but now all she felt was dread.

She couldn’t avoid him. Not when their schedules were so packed together. And yet… If only she could. She pulled on her clothes, barely paying attention to what she was wearing, her mind too preoccupied with thoughts of how to survive the day without falling apart in front of him.

The day started with a soundcheck at a music show. Luna moved through the motions, greeting staff, warming up her voice, and running through their choreography.

All while keeping one eye on Jeonghan.

She didn’t have to look to know he was watching her. She could feel it— the way his gaze followed her across the room. It wasn’t unusual for him to look out for her, but today it was different. His eyes lingered too long, his expressions too soft, too thoughtful.

And yet, she refused to meet his gaze. Whenever he moved towards her, she skillfully maneuvered herself away, pretending to be busy talking to another member or reviewing notes with their staff. When he tried to catch her between breaks, she’d feign exhaustion, lying down in the waiting room, headphones in, eyes closed, hoping he wouldn’t disturb her.

He didn’t. But he watched.

During the interview portion of their music show appearance, she stood sandwiched between Mingyu and Wonwoo, grateful for the buffer zone. Jeonghan was on the other side of the group, but still, she felt his eyes on her. Every time the camera wasn’t focused on them, he’d glance her way, and she’d pretend not to notice.

The weight of it was suffocating, but she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge it. Not yet.

The rest of the day unfolded in a blur of performances and obligations. She danced, smiled for the cameras, and laughed when appropriate, all while dodging Jeonghan’s attempts to talk to her. When they left the studio for rehearsals, she managed to stick close to the other members, always positioning herself away from Jeonghan without making it too obvious.

But he was relentless. Subtle, but relentless.

For two days, she avoided him with increasing skill. If he took a step toward her, she’d suddenly have a question for staff or be deep in conversation with another member. If he tried to speak to her during breaks, she’d claim she was too tired or needed to use the restroom.

Thankfully, their schedules were so packed that it was easy to stay busy. The exhaustion from back-to-back schedules worked to her advantage— no one questioned why she was too tired to chat during their downtime.

No one, except for Jeonghan.

He never pressed her. Never forced her into a conversation. But Luna knew. She could see it in the way his eyes would flicker with something unreadable when she ducked out of his reach, the way his expression softened whenever she pretended to be preoccupied.

Jeonghan wasn’t fooled. He knew exactly what she was doing.

And he let her.

But there was no escaping the fact that the more she avoided him, the more she felt the tension building between them. It was like a taut string, pulling tighter with each passing day, each fleeting glance, each unspoken word.

And the worst part? She knew it couldn’t last. Eventually, she’d have to face him.

There was only so much running she could do before everything came crashing down again.

And it did.

Three days after her drunken confession, Luna found herself in the worst possible scenario— alone with Jeonghan.

It had been a long day of grueling practice, the kind that left everyone too exhausted to talk, but not too exhausted to finally notice the tension between the two of them.

Luna was desperate to get to her room, hoping to avoid another awkward interaction. She quickened her pace as soon as they entered the dorm, hoping to reach the elevator before anyone could catch up to her— before he could catch up to her.

One thing about Luna is that she hates elevators— she got stuck alone once when she was a child. From then on she never took it alone… till now, that’s how desperate she was.

She must have jinxed it.

As the elevator doors slid open, she stepped in quickly, but a second later, Jeonghan slipped in behind her. The doors closed, trapping her in the small, suffocating space with the one person she had been desperately trying to avoid.

“Fuck my life,” She cursed under her breath.

Where were the other members? Normally, someone would’ve joined them, but tonight, it was just the two of them. Jeonghan must’ve said something to the others, some quiet, strategic whisper to give them privacy.

Luna sighed audibly, her shoulders tensing as she avoided looking in his direction.

The silence in the elevator was unbearable. She could feel Jeonghan’s presence beside her, calm and unhurried.

She hated how composed he always was— how nothing seemed to faze him. Luna, on the other hand, felt like she was barely holding herself together, her heart pounding in her chest, her palms sweaty as she stared straight ahead, willing the elevator to reach her floor as quickly as possible.

But Jeonghan didn’t speak. He didn’t push, didn’t prod. He simply waited, giving her space, like he always did.

If only he wasn’t so perfect.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Luna broke the silence. "Just spit it out already," she muttered, still refusing to meet his eyes.

She knew he had something to say, something he’d been holding back for the past three days. It was the thing she had been dreading ever since she confessed her feelings to him— the thing she had been running from since their trainee days.

Jeonghan’s voice was soft, almost tender when he finally spoke. "You’ve been ignoring me."

He didn’t sound angry or hurt, just… understanding.

And Luna hated it. He was too perfect, too kind, too gentle for her own good. How could she not fall for someone like him? How could she not hate him for making it so easy?

A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.

Luna could feel the weight of his gaze on her, but she kept her eyes on the elevator doors, counting the seconds in her head, hoping this would all be over soon. But the words were clawing their way out of her, demanding to be spoken.

"What do you want me to say, Han?" Her voice was sharp, and defensive, as if she could protect herself with her words. "That I lied? ‘Cause I didn’t."

She finally turned to look at him, her eyes meeting his for the first time in three days. The impact of it hit her like a wave— his warm, concerned gaze, the softness in his expression, the way he looked at her like he saw straight through her defenses.

"If only it was," she added quietly, her voice breaking just a little at the end.

Jeonghan stepped forward slowly, his movements careful and deliberate, like he was approaching a wounded animal. His hands found her arms, his touch light, barely there, as if he was afraid to hurt her. He gently caressed her skin, his thumb tracing small circles against her sleeve, soothing in a way that only made everything worse.

"Jiyeon-ah..." His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if saying her name out loud might shatter the fragile moment between them.

He didn’t need to say anything else.

Luna knew him all too well.

She knew him inside and out— knew that the look in his eyes wasn’t just concern. There was something else there, something that made her stomach twist painfully.

A twinge of regret. Sadness.

She already knew what he was going to say.

And she dreaded it.

"I…" Jeonghan hesitated, his grip tightening slightly as he prepared to speak, his gaze never leaving hers. "I care about you so much, you know that, right?"

Luna nodded in defeat, biting down on her lip to keep the flood of emotions at bay. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

"But… we can’t do this." His voice was soft, so gentle as if he was trying to let her down easy. "It wouldn’t be professional. And it wouldn’t be fair to the others, to the team. We’ve worked so hard to get here, and… we can’t risk that."

There it was.

The polite rejection.

The one she’d expected but had hoped would never come. The words hit her like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from her lungs. She went numb, her mind buzzing with a kind of dull, painful shock.

She had prepared herself for this. She knew it was coming. But still, it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her.

She couldn’t hear anything else.

The world around her became a blur, Jeonghan’s words fading into the background as her mind shut down, overwhelmed by the weight of it all. Her chest felt tight, her throat constricting as she struggled to keep herself composed.

If only she could forget this moment… this feeling.

At that very moment, something in Luna’s brain snapped— a survival instinct, a deep-seated need to protect herself from the pain that had just hollowed her out.

A switch flipped, and determination settled over her like a mask. She forced a giggle, light and airy as if nothing had happened. As if her heart wasn’t hanging in tatters inside her chest.

She could see Jeonghan’s face soften, but not in relief. No, his eyes were filled with something else—pain. He knew her all too well. Knew this was her defense mechanism. Her way of pretending everything was fine.

Jeonghan opened his mouth to say something, maybe to stop her from pretending and shutting him out but Luna was faster.

"It’s fine," she said, her voice calm, steady. Her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "I was drunk and being stupid."

There it was.

The first lie.

And then, with a forced chuckle, she gave him the second, her all-time favorite lie, one she had practiced in front of a mirror countless times just in case this moment ever came.

"It’s a little crush. It’ll go away soon."

Luna had become so good at pretending, at brushing off her own heartbreak as if it were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

She waved her hand dismissively as if her heart hadn’t just been ripped to shreds and thrown at her feet. As if she wasn’t praying for the earth to open up and swallow her whole so she could disappear from the sheer embarrassment of being rejected.

"I’m sorry for worrying you," she said, her voice light, too casual. "You know me. I didn’t want to come off as weird and I’ve been missing my parents lately… Plus, with our schedule being so crazy, I’ve just been all over the place."

She was explaining herself, making excuses for her vulnerability, for the way her feelings had slipped through the cracks in her armor.

It was easier to blame it on something else— on homesickness, on stress— than to admit what was really happening inside her heart.

She saw Jeonghan frown, saw the worry deepening in his eyes as he tried to get a word in, but she was already moving, already pivoting away from the conversation.

"We’re okay." She cut him off, a little too cheerful. Her firm voice cutting through as if to reassure Jeonghan or more so to reassure herself. She stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, something she’d done a hundred times before but this time it felt like a goodbye. "Don’t worry about it."

As if on cue, the elevator doors slid open, and without waiting for a response, Luna slipped out, leaving Jeonghan standing there, stunned and silent.

The moment the door to her apartment clicked shut behind her, the facade crumbled.

Luna’s breath hitched, and she locked the door with trembling hands. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she collapsed onto the floor, the weight of everything she had been holding back crashing down on her in one violent wave.

She pressed her forehead to the cool surface of the floor, squeezing her eyes shut as silent sobs wracked her body. The room was too quiet, the kind of quiet that only amplified the buzzing in her ears, the heavy thud of her heartbeat.

She had known it would hurt, but she hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

For years, she had kept her feelings carefully hidden, burying them deep inside her chest where no one could see, not even herself sometimes.

Luna had told herself it was better this way, safer. But now that it had all come out— now that she had laid herself bare only to be rejected— it felt like everything she had built around herself was crumbling.

All the walls she had put up, all the armor she had worn, were useless now.

If only she hadn’t said anything.

If only she had kept quiet like always.

If only she hadn’t let herself hope.

Luna was angry— at the universe, at herself because she couldn’t find herself to be angry at Jeonghan. It was not his fault after all. It’s not his fault he didn’t feel the same way, he didn’t do it on purpose. In the same way, she didn’t fall for him on purpose.

However, she was angry that she had been stupid enough to believe, even for a second, that he might feel the same way… even a little. Angry that she had let her guard down. Angry that no matter how hard she tried to let go, her heart had latched onto him with a vice grip that wouldn’t loosen.

Her thoughts spiraled, wild and desperate as tears streamed down her face. She had tried for so long to suppress her feelings, to push them down, to keep them from surfacing. But now, they were all spilling out, every fear, every insecurity, every moment of doubt.

Years, she thought, choking on the sobs. Years of holding this in, of pretending I was okay… all for what?

Luna had always known that liking Jeonghan would lead to this.

It had been inevitable, she supposed.

A quiet, creeping sense of dread that had lived in the back of her mind ever since they were trainees. She had always feared that this would be the outcome, that her feelings would only ever be one-sided, that the day she confessed, everything would fall apart.

But she had never expected it to hurt this much.

Her heart clenched painfully, and for a moment, she wished she could rip it out of her chest just to make the pain stop.

The rejection wasn’t even the worst part.

No, it was the fact that Jeonghan had been so kind about it.

So understanding.

So… perfect.

Luna hated that about him.

Hated that he had been so gentle, so considerate when he let her down.

It would’ve been easier if he had been harsh if he had given her something to be angry about. But instead, he had given her nothing but soft words, valid excuses, and apologies.

The buzzing in her ears became a dull hum as the last of her sobs faded, and in the silence, her body slowly went numb as she curled up on the cold floor, hugging her knees to her chest as she let the pain settle deep within her heart.

Luna didn’t push away the pain this time; she allowed it to consume her, to wrap itself around her heart like a vice.

Every ache, every sharp sting of rejection, she accepted it— because maybe if she let herself feel it fully, let herself drown in it for just this moment, her heart would finally learn.

Maybe this time, the hurt would leave a scar deep enough to remind her, to teach her, that hoping for more was futile. That loving someone who didn’t feel the same way was a battle she was always destined to lose.

Maybe, she thought, maybe this time, my heart will finally take the hint and move on.

But deep down, Luna knew better.

She had tried to move on before— countless times—and it had never worked.

No matter how much she wished for it, her heart had always found its way back to Jeonghan. Always.

And now, as she lay there, broken and exhausted, she realized with a painful clarity that this wasn’t the push she needed to forget him.

No.

This was only the beginning.

It was still painful, though.

Knowing that the first guy she had ever liked— the first person she had truly opened up to— would never see her the same way.

Jeonghan had been the first person to approach her, the first person to become her friend, the first person she liked, and now, he was the first person to break her heart.

If only things had been different.

Life, however, moved on.

The next day came with the same grueling schedule and the same routines. Music shows, interviews, practice sessions, and variety show appearances all blurred together as if nothing in her world had been torn apart the night before.

Luna didn’t allow any cracks to show; she was an expert at wearing her mask by now. She laughed with the other members, joked with the staff, and smiled for the fans— all while something heavy settled deeper within her chest, like a stone she couldn’t quite shake off.

With Jeonghan, it was as if nothing had ever happened. No awkward tension lingered between them, no strained silences or hesitant interactions. He treated her the same way he always had— kind, supportive, teasing her whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Jeonghan was worried, of course.

Luna could see it in the way his eyes lingered on her a second longer than usual, the subtle softness in his voice whenever he spoke her name. But he didn’t push. He didn’t force her to talk about what had happened that night, didn’t ask for explanations or demand a conversation she clearly wasn’t ready to have.

Luna spoke to him like she always did, her tone light and unbothered.

Not once did she avoid him because, in her mind, avoiding him would only prove that she wasn’t okay.

And she desperately needed to be okay.

She couldn't allow anyone— especially Jeonghan— to know the truth despite knowing he probably already did.

That her heart still beat just as fast when he smiled at her, that every casual touch sent a familiar warmth spreading through her chest.

No, she wasn’t going to let anyone see that she was still hurting.

Not again.

Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and Luna realized quickly that nothing had changed with her feelings.

They hadn't diminished, they hadn't been pushed away. If anything, they only grew stronger the more she tried to bury them.

So, she made a decision: she would lock them up deep down in her chest, chain her heart, and throw away the key.

It was better like this. Safer.

But fate has a cruel sense of humor.

Because no matter how far Luna thought she’d thrown the key, somehow, in some twisted cosmic joke, it landed straight into Jeonghan’s hands.

Unbeknownst to her, he had already begun to notice the cracks beneath her carefully crafted facade, the moments where her smile faltered just a little too long, or when her gaze lingered on him longer than she intended.

Jeonghan, who had always been so attuned to her, had found the key she so desperately wanted to hide.

And little by little, without her even realizing it, he was using it to unlock the very heart she was trying so hard to protect.

A year had passed since that night.

A year since Luna had bared her soul, and Jeonghan had rejected her.

It was 2018 now, during the filming of the music video of their song ‘THANKS’ and the air was thick with a quiet intensity as the members pushed through a grueling day of shooting.

But even amidst the rush and exhaustion, Jeonghan couldn’t help himself. His eyes followed Luna from a distance, as they often did.

She was talking animatedly to the camera set up for their ‘Inside SEVENTEEN’ behind-the-scenes footage.

Luna’s laugh echoed faintly across the set, and Jeonghan couldn’t stop noticing the smallest things about her.

The way her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when she smiled— an indication that it was real, genuine, a smile that Jeonghan hadn’t seen in far too long. He noticed how her hair danced in the light breeze, strands occasionally kissing her face before she absentmindedly brushed them away.

Her smile stretched wide, almost reaching her ears, a sign that today, she was happy. Genuinely happy.

And Jeonghan was thankful for that. He’d worried about her for so long.

Luna turned toward him then, catching his gaze. For a moment, time seemed to slow as she smiled at him—soft, warm, real.

Jeonghan returned it with a smile of his own, but the second her attention shifted back to the camera, where she began laughing about something with Dokyeom who sneaked up on her from behind, his heart twisted in a way he hadn’t expected.

Jeonghan would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about her confession every day since it happened. Because he had. It had haunted him, followed him into every quiet moment, and lingered in every glance they shared.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it— about her. He hadn’t stopped worrying about her since that night, either.

The truth was, he admired her— he always had.

Jeonghan admired the strength she had to smile and laugh even when she must’ve been hurting inside.

He admired how effortlessly beautiful she was, today, yesterday, and every day in between.

He admired how she seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders but never let it dim her light.

But as Jeonghan watched her now, laughing freely with Dokyeom, something sharp and bitter jabbed at his chest.

It was innocent, of course. Luna and Dokyeom had always been close. Their laughter was nothing more than friendly.

But that didn’t stop the sudden realization from slapping Jeonghan across the face: he couldn’t keep this lie up any longer.

The lie that he had been telling himself since the night Luna confessed to him.

When she had stood there, vulnerable and raw, spilling her heart out, he had been scared.

He’d made excuses— talked about professionalism, about the team, about the risks. But deep down, they were just that— excuses.

He had lied, not to her, but to himself.

Because he felt the same.

He always had.

And he’d been too scared to admit it, too scared to face what it would mean to let himself fall for her.

If only he hadn’t lied.

If only he hadn’t been scared.

If only he had the courage to do what his heart had been telling him all along.

But the sight of her laughing with someone else, even if it was innocent, hit him like a bolt of lightning.

The thought of someone else making her laugh like that, of someone else being the reason behind those genuine smiles— he couldn’t handle it.

Jeonghan couldn’t let someone like Luna go.

Not now.

Not ever.

His hands were clammy as he fidgeted with the hem of his top, his leg bouncing anxiously. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest, it felt like it might burst out. There was a smile creeping up on his face, a warmth spreading through him, and for a moment, Jeonghan wondered if he was going into cardiac arrest.

But then, no… this wasn’t heart failure.

This wasn’t a symptom of physical pain.

This was him falling for Bae Jiyeon.

It wasn’t fear.

It was exhilaration.

It was the undeniable truth that he couldn’t keep hiding anymore. He was falling for her— had been for a long time, but now, it was clear as day. The thought of her with anyone else made him feel like he’d lose a piece of himself.

And there was only one way to fix that.

Jeonghan wasn’t discouraged by his mistakes from the past. No. He was determined now— more than ever.

Determined to make this right, to tell her what he should’ve said a year ago.

Determined to hold onto her before it was too late.

With the key to Luna’s heart, which she had thrown away in her desperate attempt to lock her feelings deep inside, now firmly in Jeonghan’s grasp, he was determined to unlock a future they both had wished for but were too hesitant and scared to reach.

Jeonghan is determined to do anything to turn the if only into an unequivocally so.

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 34

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Postpartum depression; allusions to child abuse; perceived child abuse - read with care

A/N: I am so sorry it has taken me this long! The move has really done a number on my mental health and I've been struggling to write anything substantial. I've taken some serious liberties with Georgia weather. If you noticed, no you didn't. Lol I don't hate Rick. His mindset isn't the greatest at this point. We know that. Just making sure everyone is aware that I love our deputy. Post partum depression is a real thing and it sucks. This chapter has some really angsty, dark tones, and should be read with care, especially toward the end (beginning at “Oh,hey.” She greeted, patting the ground next to her). I did lots of research and sadly, what transpires is a real thing that people do for reasons that aren't necessary. Please try to give Carol and reader some grace given the circumstances. But if you're sensitive to anything dealing with making a child uncomfortable, you might want to skip this. It gets a little heavy. I would be happy to give you a summary of what is happening if you would rather skip the last few paragraphs (see above where to stop reading). Just message me.

I love you all! Thank you for your patience with me.

gif is not mine - from google

You weren’t sure when it happened, when the switch flipped or the dial turned. All you knew is that every single time your daughter cried, you wanted to break down and sob with her. When you held her to your breast, you couldn’t look at her. You left her with Lori or Carol more and more, the looks they gave you annoyingly understanding. When you would hand her off to Daryl and walk away, you couldn’t bear to see that expression of befuddled dismalness. 

“Postpartum depression.” Carol finally said one bitterly cold morning. She was changing Birdie with swift movements, eager to shield her from the drafty atmosphere of the warehouse. 

You had your back to her—your face in your hands—while you silently cried, two small bottles of breast milk sitting at your feet, still attached to the manual pumps. Sniffling, you glanced over your shoulder just as she placed the shifting blanketed bundle against her shoulder. “I hate my baby, Carol.” You whimpered. “That’s more than depression.”

The silver-haired lady shook her head. “Honey, I promise you don’t hate her.” 

“I don’t want anything to do with her.” You bit back with more vexation than you had intended. “I can’t stand it when she cries. I just want Daryl to keep her away from me.” When she tilted her lips with that gentle smile, it took all you had not to chuck one of the bottles at her. What was wrong with you? Could she be right? Were you depressed?

“I went through this, sweetheart. It will pass.” When she offered you little Birdie, you reeled. “You can’t keep avoiding her.” She was right and you hated it. With a huffing breath, you accepted your daughter, distributing her small weight across your arm for her head to rest in the crook of your elbow. “I have an idea.”

You heaved a sigh, not really interested in whatever it was that Carol was going to suggest. You had to stop taking your frustrations out on the woman. And Lori. And Daryl. And especially little Birdie. She was perfect and you knew in your heart of hearts that you could never truly harbor anything other than unrelenting love for her. Yes. Carol was right. You were definitely depressed. 

“What?” You finally queried. 

“What’re you two doin’ in here?” You heard Daryl’s boots crossing the concrete floor until they stopped just behind you. His lips pressed gently against the crown of your head. “Hey.” You said nothing. So much for not taking things out on your fiancé. 

“Daryl, right on time.” Carol beamed. 

“For what?” The confusion was evident in his tone.

“Y/N pumped some milk for the baby. It won’t keep unless we get more snow and can store it in the drifts.” She informed. “Why don’t you feed the baby?”

“Feed ‘er? Like with a bottle?”

“Unless you’re miraculously lactating, yes. With a bottle.” There was a hint of jocularity in her tone. You could almost feel his glare without turning. 

“I mean—yeah, okay.” Annoyance momentarily forgotten, you focused on the uncertainty in your partner’s voice. You didn’t miss the tremble. Neither did Carol. 

“You’re gonna be fine, Daryl.” She said encouragingly. 

“Ain’t me m’worried ‘bout.” The archer mumbled as he circled around you. He was hesitant in reaching for Birdie, but took her into his arms immediately when you sat up straighter and shifted her. The movement must have upset your daughter, her little limbs flailing as Daryl positioned her in the bend of his arm. “Ain’t no need for all that fussin’, lil Bird. You’re gonna get fed.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “By somebody. May not be me after I screw this up.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re better with her than you give yourself credit for.” It came out flat and harsh, your default setting as of late. Still, one look at the expression that decorated Daryl’s features, you found yourself ashamed. “You’re a great father.” You added, softer and with sincerity. 

Daryl held your gaze and, for a moment,—for the first time in a long time—it was uncomfortable. When he nodded and turned to Carol, you were able to exhale, though your stomach remained in knots. 

“Gimme the thing, I guess.” He held out a hand and looked down at his daughter, her little face reddening. Her mouth opened with the slightest squeak. She was two seconds from shrieking. “Keep your diaper on, lil’ girl. It’s comin’.” Daryl gingerly bounced his arm, Birdie’s features smoothing out for a moment, just long enough for Carol to hand over the bottle. 

You found yourself leaning forward, biting your lip as if ready to spring into applause when he accomplished the “impossible” task. When you caught his gaze, both of you looking up at the same time, you sat back and cleared your throat. When had things become so awkward between the two of you? It was almost unbearable. 

“Tilt her up just a little.” Carol instructed. “Touch the nipple to her lip, she’ll—there you go.”

You heard the soft snort of Daryl’s laugh and let your eyes travel from Birdie—now happily suckling away at the bottle—to your fiance. His eyes were soft but excited, sparkling in a way you’d never before seen. His lips were tilted upward, only the slightest fraction. Smiling suited him. You wished he’d do it more often. 

“Told ya that ya wasn’t gonna starve. Slow down. Ain’t no one gonna take it away.” He babbled, scrunching his nose with that smile still adorned. Was he even aware that he was lowering himself to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of you? You didn’t think so. At that moment, no one else existed to him; just a father and his little bird. 

You only felt the smile on your own face when you looked over to find Carol watching not Daryl and Birdie but you. With a soft, knowing expression, she mouthed see? And see, you did. You nodded, tears stinging behind your eyes. The room was silent aside from Birdie’s gulps and breaths and squeaks, and for moment, you thought:

Everything’s gonna be just fine.

If only you knew just how wrong you were.

“We can’t have her crying like this!” Rick was swiping a hand roughly over his tired face, looking haggard. Things between him and Lori were not improving. They seemed to only be worsening. Even Daryl had called out the deputy’s behavior once or twice in the last two weeks. The archer was currently glaring daggers while he rubbed a fingerless-gloved hand over Birdie’s back through the sling that held her to your chest. 

The loss of the warehouse had been tough on everyone, but you and your baby were affected the most. Your mood swings were only growing worse, though less and less toward the little one in your arms and more toward the adults that were only trying to help you. In turn, Birdie remained in a constant state of inconsolable. Hershel had thrown around words like colic and had Daryl dosing out gas drops to the little one but nothing seemed to soothe her.

The cars had run out of gas, as well as Daryl’s bike. The archer had pushed the motorcycle along for a time before he declared that he couldn’t protect Birdie if he was too busy hauling a damn bike. He had hidden it under some brush, easy to be tracked back to later. It was Merle’s bike and you knew what it meant to him. However, Birdie meant more. Much, much more and he would crawl into hell and back for the little girl strapped to your front.

“She’s a baby, man. How else she s’posed to let us know she’s needin’ something?” Daryl snapped, his voice intentionally higher to be heard over your daughter’s cries. 

“Daryl, you know this isn’t safe! She’s gonna bring every walker for miles down on us!” Rick threw out an arm, gesturing broadly. “Or—or the living! You saw what they would do!”

“Ain’t much we can do! She ain’t hungry! She ain’t needin’ changed! She’s just pissed off an’ I ain’t far away from bein’ right there with ‘er!”

“Boys.” Lori admonished, squeezing your shoulder. When had you started to tremble? “All this negative energy isn’t helping.”

“She’s right.” Hershel agreed, adjusting his gloves. “Babies are incredibly intuitive.”

“We just need to find fuel—cars.” Rick sniffed, hands on his hips. “We’re sitting ducks like this.” His eyes met Daryl’s in a heated challenge.

After an intense staredown, it was surprisingly Daryl who backed down first but not without a menacing growl. Turning to place his body between you and Rick, he brushed his bare fingertips over Birdie’s hooded head and then across your jaw. “Y’want me to take ‘er for a bit?”

You shook your head even as the temptation beckoned you to acquiesce. “I don’t think jostling her would help right now.” A single tear trailed down your cheek. As much as it pained you to admit, Rick was right, but how could you coax your baby to stop her noises of discomfort when you had no idea what was ailing her? Daryl used his thumb to swipe away the moisture, his expression equal parts distress and sadness. He clearly felt as helpless as you did.

“S’take a break.” He said suddenly, ushering you to a nearby log. Lori was immediately lowering herself beside you with a great deal of difficulty given her round belly. You could sympathize with her struggle, having been there not so long ago yourself. Her hand came to rest on the back of your head with loving strokes meant to soothe your nerves.

“I think that’s a great idea.” She agreed, offering you a gentle smile when you searched out her gaze. After a moment, you nodded and began to remove Birdie from her sling. Carol appeared with an extra blanket to cover you and shield the baby from the cold as you tried to nurse her. Daryl was hovering, shifting from foot to foot with his fingers digging into the strap of his crossbow. As much as you loved the man, his nervous energy wasn’t helping things in the slightest. 

“Why don’t you go hunting?” You suggested, reveling in the relief when Birdie quickly latched and her wailing ceased. Her little hiccups around enthusiastic gulps remained heartbreaking. The past few days had seen you begin to settle though the fraying of your nerves lingered. At least you were now aware of how much you loved your daughter and that you wouldn’t change a single moment that brought her barreling into your life. 

Daryl quickly shook his head in refusal, his already white-knuckled grip on that strap growing impossibly tighter. “Can’t leave ya here like this.”

You bit back the urge to yell at him, make the demand that he go. He meant well. “Please?” He wrestled with indecision, his expression damn near crumbling before he skillfully schooled it with a sigh.

“Fine.” He huffed at the same time that he took a single step toward you. He seemed to think better of it and turned on a heel while stripping his weapon from his back. “Be back in a hour an’ we can move on.” You knew as well as he did that there was little to no game to satisfy the group’s hunger. He was only trying to placate you. The two of you needed time alone, needed to talk and work through the tension between you. 

With an inward sigh, you watched him disappear into the trees and shushed Birdie when she released your nipple and began to squirm and fuss. 

“So,” Lori began, “am I looking at the future Mrs. Dixon?” Her question caught you off guard, your eyes shooting wide even as you stared straight ahead. Only when she tapped the back of her hand against your arm did you acknowledge her and her request to take Birdie. Passing the baby off, you adjust your clothing and draped the extra blanket over your daughter.

“How did you—”

“He asked my advice.” Lori carefully arranged Birdie against the front of her shoulder, alternating between patting and rubbing the little one’s back. Tiny grunts and squeaks sounded from beneath the blanket, an audible passing of gas following close behind. The experienced mother turned toward where Hershel had sat to rest as well. “Maybe a touch of colic?” There was that word again. 

The older man hummed. “Could be. I’ll fetch the drops.” You felt bad watching him struggle to his feet from the forest floor, but couldn’t be persuaded to do so yourself. You were just too damn tired.

“What is colic?” You asked, your brow drawing inward. It was obviously not a danger to your baby, given Hershel’s lack of serious concern, but if something was hurting her, it was hurting you. The very thought of her pain had tears springing to your eyes.

“It just means that she’s uncomfortable. It might be the lack of protein in your diet. It could be gas. There’s no real explanation. She’s just—not feeling well. It’s nothing to worry about except she won’t be easily soothed for a while.” Her lips thinned into a sad smile. “It’s nothing and a lot all at once.”

“I’ll take her.” Carol offered whilst petting your hair as Lori had just a few moments prior. Extricating Birdie from Lori’s arms, she bounced the infant tenderly against her chest. “Y/N, will you come find me once you’ve finished up here?” Sporting a questioning look, you still nodded and watched her walk away after returning the gesture.

“He asked your advice?” You stared toward the empty space of Carol’s retreat for a moment longer before turning your attention to Lori. This time, her smile was genuine if not cheeky. 

“He did.”

“Hey—Hey, uh, can I ask ya somethin’?” 

She hadn’t really noticed Daryl approaching but that wasn’t surprising. He was a hunter and stealth was something in which he excelled. Lori paused in her stirring and tapped the spoon on the side of the kettle. The beans had yet to even begin to heat over the small fire inside the house, so she had a few minutes to spare.

“Of course.”

Daryl had changed so much over the course of the months he had been with the group, and she had you to thank for such a large part of that. And now, she had little Birdie to thank as well. The man was going to make an excellent father, despite his lack of confidence.Though she knew so little, she was aware he wrestled with unnamed demons, but you were there to help see him through it. He would be just fine. All three of you would.

“I, uh—well—” The archer rubbed at the back of his neck, something she noticed he did when he was uncomfortable. “Ain’t good at any’a this shit, so m’just gonna say it.” Lori raised her eyebrows when he paused to chew intently on the side of his thumb. “Wanna ask Y/N to, y’know—to marry me.” Her first instinct was to cheer, to celebrate his commitment, but thoughts of Rick—of Shane—trampled any immediate joy and ushered in skepticism. “You’re sure?”

Daryl scoffed. “Course m’sure! Lookit what she went through—what she just did for me. Why wouldn’t I wanna make ‘er my wife?” The confusion—the utter exasperation—on his face gave her pause but she continued.

“But do you love her?” She asked. Daryl wiped a hand down his face, ending with running the length of his index finger across his bottom lip. “It’s not a hard question, Daryl. Do you love her?” She didn’t realize—or maybe she did—how difficult it was for the man to admit something that deep to anyone but you. She wasn’t aware that he had said it before, had said it in the van, in the presence of the Greene’s and Carol, but whether or not they had heard was not something he had bothered to care about during that pivotal moment. 

Finally, Daryl sighed, his voice quiet. “I love ‘er. Yeah.”

Lori felt something in her chest release, a strong sense of relief and—if she were being honest—jealousy overwhelming her senses, making it impossible to speak for a moment. Gathering her bearings, she nodded and turned back to the pot, picking up the spoon to begin stirring. “Then you just ask her.” She sniffed, tilting her head just so in order to hide her tears from him. She was happy for you, compellingly so, but there was no denying the sadness that weighed on her own heart. Still, this wasn’t about her. This was about you—her friend. “Don’t rehearse lines or try to make it perfect. You just ask her. On the spot and from the heart.”

She heard the quiet hum from the side. It was the most straightforward form of acceptance toward her answer that she was bound to get from him. As his bootfalls receded into whispers on far away hardwood, she smiled.

Try or not, he was going to make it something that would mean the world to you.

You wiped away a tear and sniffled, consumed with a fresh wave of guilt for how you had been treating him as of late. He was handling your mood swings with grace, never lashing out, even if you did see him bite his tongue on more than one occasion. He had every right. Hormones or not, he deserved better than what you had been giving him.

“Thanks.” You whispered.

“So?”

You sniffled a second time, wiping at both of your eyes. “So what?”

Lori chuckled, her hands on either side of her belly. “Did you say yes?” 

You smiled and shook your head, recalling the moment to the forefront of your mind—hearing his tone, summoning the myriad of emotions you had experienced. It really was a Daryl Dixon proposal and it couldn’t have been more perfect. “I said yes.” You gave an indignant oomf as you were pulled against Lori, her arms squeezing as tightly as they could manage. “Wait, wait, wait.” You laughed, patting her back in an effort to coerce her into releasing her hold. When she let go, you sat back, expression light. “We’re keeping it quiet for now, making it official later.”

“Why?”

You shrugged. “A lot can happen in a short amount of time. He could change his mind.” Especially with these fucking mood changes. 

“You’re right.” She agreed. You shot her a look, almost as if you had been expecting her to disagree with you. “ A lot can change. We don’t know what’s going to happen even in the next few minutes.” She paused. “Who we might lose.” Leaning forward, she cupped your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Think about it.” You studied her for a moment, the sadness and apprehension radiating from your friend and forming a veil over you that was almost smothering. You nodded. “Good. Now go see what Carol wants. I think I need a nap.” She gave you an encouraging smile and didn’t move as you stood, looking over your shoulder at her before you disappeared to find the other woman and your daughter.

It wasn’t hard to do. Not at all. You just followed the loud exclamations of a disgruntled infant. As you approached, you could tell your daughter had just been given a fresh diaper and was in the process of being swaddled. The cold, flat ground beneath her couldn’t have been helping things. The weather was warming but at a slow rate Regardless, you had no idea what was coming next: what Carol would share with you and the disaster that would follow.

“Oh, hey.” She greeted, patting the ground next to her. The lack of her usual gentle tone and welcoming smile were your first clues that something was amiss. She sighed heavily, not meeting your eyes once you were cross-legged at her side. Her hand was splayed over the top of the blanket, gently rubbing circles over Birdie’s belly. “There’s something I want to tell you—advice, if I can even call it that.” She said solemnly. You weren’t sure where her thoughts were at that moment but it was somewhere dark, somewhere in a place she had deserted since the deaths of Ed and Sophia.

“What is it?” You needlessly adjusted the knit hat on Birdie’s head; pulled the hood of the tiny jumpsuit more snug around her little round face.

“Babies cry, Y/N. It’s how they tell us when they need something. It’s the only way they can tell us.” Why was she schooling you on something you had already learned? And in such a monotonous fashion? “I don’t want Rick to be right but there are dangers and few options if a herd follows the noise.” She sighed heavily, her shoulders held slumped under an invisible weight. “I don’t like it but it’s fact.”

“I know that, Carol.” 

“It’s just—” When you looked away from the baby, your gaze was immediately drawn to the lone tear straying from her closed eyes. “When Sophia was born, she was—she was such a quiet baby.” Her words came so softly, so full of melancholic nostalgia that you felt your own heart clench. Then, when her eyes opened, they were hard, her expression stern and twisted. “He gave me a break. Ed.” She didn’t even need to say his name. You knew. “A couple of weeks before the—old habits came back. The bruises, the screaming.” She was trembling, her hand leaving Birdie to curl into a fist on top of her knee.

“Carol, we don’t have to—”

“Sophia felt it.” She nodded, staring off to nowhere in particular. “That energy—she began to cry, she was so unsettled. Ed didn’t like it. Shut her up or I will, he would say.” She bent forward, her face crumbling as her hand slid up to twist into the front of her jacket. “I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t know how else to keep her safe.”

You waited her out, terrified of what she was about to tell you. When you said nothing, she inhaled deeply and released her hold on the coat, stroking the back of a knuckle over Birdie’s cheek.

“Y/N, I am going to show you something. I only ask that you please try not to think less of me.” Your mouth was moving but no sound emerging, your wide eyes watching her lean over your daughter, shushing the discontented cries. “I would never hurt your daughter, just as I would have never hurt my own.” Before you could speak, she was pinching Birdie’s little nose with one hand and covering her mouth with the other. The crying ceased but the flailing did not, her little limbs jerking.

“Carol!” You threw yourself forward and snatched her wrists, pulling them away from your daughter, throwing the other woman off balance and onto her hip. Carol caught herself, her palm shoving toward you in a desperate gesture for you to calm down. “What the fu—”

“Look!” She pleaded, her head jerking toward the now silent baby.

Birdie was still, her tiny blue eyes open and searching, stunned. She wasn’t crying, not at that moment. Your jaw was agape, your mind warring between anger and bewilderment; between betrayal and understanding.

“You only do it for a moment, not long enough to cause any harm.” Carol sat up, tears flowing down her cheeks, unchecked. “I couldn’t let Sophia cry. I did what I had to do.” She shook her head adamantly, her eyes closed tightly as if she were trying to jar the unpleasant memories loose and out of her mind. “I don’t regret it. I don’t. She was safe from him.”

“I don’t—Carol, I can’t do that.” You were crying openly now, picturing yourself denying your daughter precious breath. Even just one attempt would break you, split you open from the inside out.

“I’m not telling you that you have to, but Y/N,” she paused, gathering herself back up onto her knees at your side. She intentionally kept space between the two of you. “Rick—he’s trying to keep us safe. You saw what those monsters were going to do to her. You’ve seen what walkers can and will do. Just until we find a car. Until—”

Your face was in your hands now, Birdie’s crying having picked back up. “What if I—”

“Only a moment, Y/N. She will catch her breath. Eventually, it—it trains her.” Carol hesitantly touched your shoulder, and you broke, bowing over your little one with open sobs. Your body trembled from the force of your crying, any sound muffled by the blanket pressing into your face. “I’m so sorry. I just want her to be safe. I want her to have a chance.”

The two of you stayed that way for an uncertain amount of time, long enough for your sobs to drain away into hiccups and whimpers. Sitting up, you roughly wiped at your face, red and puffy eyes frozen on your screaming baby. How could you do what she was suggesting? How? What would Daryl think? “I need to talk to Daryl.”

Carol nodded, but her expression screamed uncertainty. “Maybe you should show him.” She suggested. “He can see that it’s not hurting her.”

“The man wouldn’t even wipe her ass because he was afraid of hurting her, Carol.”

“You’re right. Maybe this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have—I’m so sorry.”

She felt ashamed. You could see it all over her; her face, the way she began to curl in on herself. She was ashamed of something she was forced to do to keep her baby girl safe. And then she had lost Sophia. It was clear that Carol wasn’t proud of the way she had to ensure her child’s safety. It wasn’t a hack you go around bragging about at neighborhood get-togethers. It was survival.

“Show me what to do.”

Expression grim, Carol moved closer and instructed. The actions were so simple. It was the very idea itself that was so impossibly difficult. Pinching Birdie’s little nose, the baby gasped wetly through her mouth just as your hand was coming down to cover it. Your heart was seizing, vibrating painfully in your chest. Just as your fingertips touched her cheek—

“What the fuck are you doin’?!”

Daryl.

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: DU drow, Orin, Astarion, lore things and little fun facts.

Trying to make a dent in this dang inbox. As always, thank you so much everyone for your patience and curiosity! Sorry that it is straight up no longer possible for me to reply to everyone, but I will keep doing my best within reason. Enjoy!

Absolutely! I had a lot of requests for bottom Astarion on my patreon which is why I was kind of on a roll there for a minute.

Though, for the record - I am really not very invested in strict bedroom roles at all. Or clear and distinct dominant/submissive dynamics. So please don't overthink it whenever there's a switch, no pun intended.

You wanna know how often they smash? Man, I don't know, I guess fairly often considering their lifestyle post-game (very active, often on the road).

Assuming that everyone agrees that sex doesn't have to involve penetration, I'd say once every other day or less, really depends on the circumstances though. DU drow's libido is much higher than Astarion's, but he's not an animal and can hold off fine. Astarion is likely to be pickier in regards to location and how-recently-have-we-bathed status as well.

I keep meaning to draw him, but I have like... A million things I want to do 😂 so its rough!

BUT you will at least continue to see him in ANE! And I'm sure i'm bound to draw him again in the future.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

If you mean in his bhaalist "AU", where he has the red robe and the extra scars, I imagine he would have gotten it through killing Isobel.

I think as a changeling she probably has the ability to just... Transform her hair however she likes at will, right? And based on her attitude plus some lines we get from Sceleritas about her own former-butler, it sounds like she would be really opposed to being serviced in that way, to me at least.

I see her as pretty aggressively independent with the way she operates, which is another factor that sets her apart from DU drow, who really enjoyed lording over the other Bhaalists and making an errand boy out of Sceleritas, to the point where he practically depended on their help to function.

Neither! I wasn't willing to let anyone take either of my eyes in my first playthrough, LOL.

I have since always given the Volo eye to SOMEONE, usually Gale, but I don't consider that canonical. I don't think anyone was desperate enough to let mister frumpy-hat over there ice-pick their eyes out.

He did do them himself. It was a profoundly stupid display he got caught up in because of Gortash. Also, de-handment is kind of a theme in his life, at least inside his head.

I have a comic about it planned for the future ;)

What do you mean, that's canonical to the game and everything! He loves the cuck chair!

He is an angsty 29-year old in denial. Your interpretation is still perfectly accurate.

Hates the guy. Hates when Shadowheart Astarion people joke about him being the Drizzt of his generation. Hates the guy like literally any countercultural weirdo hates Taylor Swift or the Weeknd. If he saw him at the line in the grocery store DU drow would find a way to roll his eyes loudly just so he could notice being an asshole.

Stay tuned, I'm cooking 🧑‍🍳

If you're asking about game strats, badly, LOL. Pretty sure I died twice to her in my first run and it was a rough way of being thrown into "serious" DnD combat.

With the exception of a couple of encounters that just so happened to turn out SURPRISINGLY cinematic, I'm just realizing that I actually don't think too often about how most of the fights went in real-time! I imagine Autie Ethel's in particular wasn't one that DU drow went into of his own accord, probably rather at a companion's insistence. That's as deep as I've thought about that personally.

Now... Back to game strats. I personally try to get a surprise round on her however I can by sneaking and shooting an arrow or AOE in her general location, since she always stands on roughly the same spot while invisible. I have my companions spread about the arena so we can take her clones down as fast as possible, and as soon as I identify who the real Ethel is I just have the strongest martial characters wail on her until she begs to be let go. Hers is one of the few fights that is actually pretty dang easy at this point for me - and I SUCK at this game.

That would certainly take a while! But, Bhaalist DU drow does kind of have an end goal, actually.

That might also turn into a comic eventually, but it would a rough one.

He pretty swiftly disposed of her, DU drow doesn't like being talked down to, which Minthara very promptly does. Him (and I, by extension) had very limited exposure to her and she was just kind of a speck of dust in his story in particular. Though I have since grown to adore her character in my proceeding runs where I do recruit her!

I guess if he got an invitation and it wasn't particularly painful to arrive at the venue, sure! He would specially love to take Astarion to Gale's wedding ceremony and purposely upstage him at every at every opportunity, LOL.

Yes. He got pretty freaky with the pain-priest. This is gonna sound like a lie but I made him get naked for it without even knowing there was a buff to be gained (I didn't get it, unfortunately, I don't remember whether I failed a check or if I had camp clothes toggled on, so it didn't count as being truly nude). I wasn't taking the game very seriously and just doing dumb roleplay things to see what would happen, LOL.

And I consider that canonical. I think DU drow saw the opportunity to show off his physique And had a strange inkling that this was a practice he was... Somehow familiar with.

Imagine my joy when Astarion and Shadowheart start having a back-and-forth about my absurd display. That's when i knew those were my people, to be honest.

[eureka-its-zico]

Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 5

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention.  

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, frenemies to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) eventual smut

Words: 15.7+

A/N:  This chapter got waaaaaay ahead of me. It got longer and longer without me realizing it. So, I apologize for the length in advance and if this isn't any good. In the anime, Nami has some wild outfits and I wanted to sort of bring that to this adaptation a little. Nothing too crazy, but still Nami anime-esque. Also, don’t shoot me but I had a little creative liberty with something in here it’s not canon so yeaaaaaa…please just indulge me for the story lol. Also, this has another Zoro POV, and from here on out things will be very angsty, because I am the proclaimed mayor of Angstville, courtesy of @chans-room and it is my duty to bring a little to the next few chapters.  As always, thank you, guys, for all the love and support. For always being so kind and loving it as much as you do. I hope you all continue to enjoy this story🖤 Much Love, Jenn

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Previous Next

“Hey Nami?” 

You hoped the widespread dread you were beginning to feel wasn’t that apparent in your tone as you spoke. You did one last check in the mirror before turning to her reply of, “Hmmm?”

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but-“

“But?”

God, she looked amused. 

“Is this supposed to be so…short?”

There was no denying Nami liked clothes. Gold. Berry. Okay, so Nami likes shiny things and things that could also buy her the shiny things. She also seemed to have a flair for fashion. Unfortunately, that fashion was intended to be worn on someone with a bit more confidence than you had. For once, you’d wished you’d paid attention to other things outside of just the components of what made up a plant. 

“You don’t like what I picked.” 

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you stuttered out. “But this skirt is definitely…short.”

In one smooth move, Nami uncrossed her legs and got up from her seat. When she reached you, her hands grabbed your shoulders and gently turned you back to the mirror. Your reflections showed one woman questioning her whole existence because of a skirt with a corset style top, and one who looked confident in everything she did. 

This time you were definitely not the latter. 

“You look hot.” 

“I look ridiculous and I’m afraid to bend over.”

Nami rolled her eyes so hard for a split second all that you saw was white. The hands that were on your shoulders now forcing you to turn from your reflected look of terror to her. Nami’s eyes shown bright with a determination to make you confident in walking out of her room and heading into the restaurant. 

“Doc, do we need to do an affirmation together.” 

“Absolutely not.”

“Then I need you to shake off whatever thoughts you’re having and realize that you are hot. Be confident in your own body.” 

To send her words home, Nami clapped her hands against your shoulders and gave them one last shake before releasing you. You weren’t sure what to do or say after that so you just stood…staring back at her. 

“Are you going to blink?”

“Sorry,” you hummed, shaking your head. “I was still trying to understand why you get a whole shirt and I get this.”

While her pink and tan outfit was tight and showed a good amount, her small eyelet cut out on her shirt barely showed, if any, cleavage. You felt like a bakery with the amount of buns you were selling.  

There was that eye roll again. 

“Oh my god,” she muttered under her breath. “You are impossible.”

Nami appeared to be tired of trying and turned on her heel to go over to a drawer. You weren’t sure what she was doing - or grabbing - but instead of watching her, you found your eyes drifting back to the mirror. You didn’t look bad just…different. You weren’t used to looking hot, as Nami put it but also so exposed. You reached over and grabbed your satchel and placed it over your shoulder, using it like a security blanket. All it did was make you feel more exposed than before, like a fraud wearing your face but dressed as someone more confident than you’d felt. 

The sound of a drawer shutting hard brought you out of your thoughts and back into the present. It didn’t keep your hands from wringing the strap on your satchel. 

Fuck it

“Hey, Nami do you think-“

“Zoro is going to like it? Yeah. I think he won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

You felt like the air had been stripped from your lungs. Your eyes no doubt were large and showing your surprise as you struggled to make words formulate on your tongue.

“Okay, that wasn’t what I was going to ask.”

“It wasn’t?” She teased. 

“You know damn well I was going to ask something else.”

Why does she look so smug? 

No. You were not frowning. 

“Okay, then tell me: what were you going to ask?”

“I suddenly can no longer recall.”

Nami’s smile was joined seconds later with laughter that followed behind you as you tried to make your escape. The sound of very happy feet following closely behind at your heels. You were tempted to look back just to see if she was skipping, but her next teasing words sent you up the stairs two at a time. 

“Sure you don’t.”

“You can’t prove it,” you shot back just as you cleared the stairs. 

The sun was a welcome warmth on your skin after days of being covered in the mist of the fog. The sounds of happy banter between Usopp and Luffy sent you walking towards the main belly of the ship. You could see Usopp dressed in a pirate hat, a leather jacket sans the shirt, and matching pants. A pair of circle sunglasses adorned his face and you had to admit he looked pretty cool. Luffy just made you want to reach over and gently pinch his cheeks.

How is anyone supposed to take him seriously…

He was wearing overalls, for Christ sakes. Luffy looked absolutely adorable. 

At the sound of your approach the guys turned towards you and the reaction you received made you want to throttle Nami. Luffy’s smile faltered ever slightly and Usopp wouldn’t even look you in the eye. 

“Hey Doc, you look-ugh different.”

“Gee, thanks Usopp,” you grumbled. 

“Are you guys done playing dress up so we can get a drink?”

Of course he was more interested in a drink than food. Of course, Zoro sounded like his usual grumpy self, as well. The problem? He didn’t look like his usual grumpy self. 

While Zoro had been wearing t-shirts and jeans - things that looked comfy and regular the past few days - it was replaced with something dangerous. The hue of his kimono style shirt was a blue so deep it could’ve come from the ocean itself. 

The most dangerous part about the shirt wasn’t just that it left a devilish window of skin on his chest available to torment your eyes. It was that same v-shaped window indicated the indent of a sculpted chest and collarbones, but the fabric at his arms hugged the muscles tight. The same strong arms you’d watch do repeated reps with weights and push-ups. Muscles that moved with ease under the skin as he skillfully practiced with his swords.

The dangerous part, after all of this, was that it mimicked a gi. The fabric folded over each other telling you that it would only take a slight tug from your hand to release the tucked material from his pants, from the safety of his sashed belt to leave his chest exposed to your hands and-

God, focus on something else. 

But you couldn’t focus on anything else. How could you with the way he was looking at you? 

Zoro’s eyes scanned over your body and every inch his gaze lingered caused your skin to flush. You fought the urge to fidget with the strap of your satchel but couldn’t stop your teeth from pulling in your bottom lip. Zoro’s eyes caught the movement and honed in on it. Your breath hitched in your throat and you could’ve sworn Zoro noticed that too. 

You were supposed to dislike him. He was an asshole. A drunk. A pain in the ass with a smart mouth. God, it didn’t stop you from wanting him so bad your body ached. From the way he was watching you, you could’ve sworn maybe it felt the same for him. It was a nice thought until he opened his mouth. 

“You’re going to wear that?”

And just like that, whatever witchcraft was in the air to make you think of doing anything other than annoying the shit out of him was gone. 

“I think she looks good.”

Nami came to stand beside you and tore Zoro’s eyes from you to her. 

“Yeah she does,” Usopp agreed from behind you, “but Naan would have a fit if she saw you dressed like this.”

A groan exhaled from your lips as you turned and started for the ramp. No, you were not stomping your feet. You just needed to get off this damn boat and away from all the idiot men aboard. 

“Good thing Naan isn’t here, then,” you huffed. 

You could practically feel Usopp shrug his shoulders, his hands up in question as he yelled after you, “I was just being honest. Naan would tell her it wasn’t practical.” 

You weren’t sure who he said the last part too and you didn’t care. You were already stepping over the side of the Merry and heading towards the ramp when you felt a presence behind you. You expected it to be Nami and what you got was the shock of seeing Moss colored hair and the glint of three gold earrings. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m walking. What does it look like?” 

But why must you do it next to me?

The question hung on the back of your tongue. You weren’t brave enough to ask it, because you could already hear the question of, “Why?”. Why did it matter if Zoro chose to walk beside, in front, or behind you? It shouldn’t matter what he chose to do, but it did matter because the way he looked at you just now was forever burned into your frontal lobe.

“Just this once you couldn’t just leave the swords on the ship?”

“Wherever I go the Wado Ichimonji goes.”

Of course it does

You expected him to do his usual of falling back to stand with Luffy. It’s what he usually did. Today was apparently shaping up to be an unusual one. Not only did he not stop walking with you, he continued to follow close behind you as you entered into the Baratie. His presence was hard to miss since when you stopped inside the foray of the restaurant Zoro was mere inches from your back. 

“Must you stand so damn close to me?” 

Each word was uttered through clenched teeth. You didn’t want to turn around and look at him. You didn’t need eyes in the back of your head to know if you did you would come fast first to the exposed skin of his chest. 

“Why’d you bring your satchel in here? Are you worried someone is going to stub their toe?”

“Can you for two seconds-“

The words had come out as a growl. Your skin bristled with a heated irritation to rip into him, and tell him that he was being his infamous asshole self. Cool points went to you for not completely falling apart when you caught sight of him. 

Zoro was too damn close looking how he looked with his chest exposed like that. His hands in their rightful place of one in his pocket and the other resting casually on his sword. The darkness of his eyes appeared so endless you were certain the moon could call them home. Maybe she already had and that’s why they sparked to life every time he looked at you. 

Just like now. 

One minute, Zoro’s face held its usual emotionless stare and the next you watched as his eyes lit up like fireworks in the night sky; celebrating an event you once again missed. A soft tug on the corner of his lip lifted just enough you could’ve called it a smirk. 

When did he start looking at you like this?

That wasn’t even the biggest question. The biggest question was, when did you start to fall for it? 

You felt your tongue involuntarily flick out to wet your suddenly dry lips, and to your horror Zoro’s eyes lazily watched the movement. He didn’t even try to hide it. 

Oh god, you should’ve stayed on the boat.

You watched Nami come through the double doors entrance and the way her face lit up as her eyes roamed between the both of you instantly sent your eyes rolling. You were never going to hear the end of this. You let out a deep breath, your eyes scanning one last time in his direction, before you walked over to join Nami. 

The Baratie was a thing of beauty. You’d never seen a building like it. While the outside was made of boards of broken down ships in the style of an actual fish, red siding and white ashwood for those fishy lips, the inside was a well thought out piece of beauty. The foray split open to a staircase of cherry wood that led down to a tiled floor of checkered black and white. It should’ve looked ridiculous, but only the center was made with these tiles. The rest was made with the continued us of the cherry wood that led up to an intricate painting on the ceiling. Sections of the fish's belly were carved out into long booths that looked like they could comfortably seat a party of eight. 

Also, the smell of the food was making you almost willing to grovel to get a plate because there was no way- 

“Welcome to Baratie. How may I help you?”

The fishman was polite enough with his semi-warm smile. It was the smile of a man forced to be approachable and nice all day, and not one that he meant. 

“Hi. Where do we eat?”

Luffy’s smile on the other hand could make a rainbow weep. 

“Do you have a reservation, sir?”

Yup. There was no way you guys could afford a place like this or apparently even have the chance to get in. You could feel your shoulders deflate as you walked over to the railing and leaned your arms against it. All the people dining - all the pirates - didn’t appear the least bit phased at your staring. Luffy pressed himself shoulder-to-shoulder with you with the two of you taking in the fancy scene before you. 

To be fair, with food like what they were being served you wouldn’t care who watched you stuff your face either. 

“Do we need one?” 

Your forehead had already relocated itself to the cool wood of the rail. Your knees meeting the metal as you tried not to laugh at how cluelessly innocent Luffy was. 

“We are very full today. I could put you on the waiting list. It’s three weeks out.” 

“Maybe you want to check your book again.” Usopp walked forward, as confident as ever, and leaned himself against the hostess podium. You were expecting one of his smooth stories and instead wanted to throw yourself over the side of the railing as he finished. “You wouldn’t want to turn away the future King of the Pirates, would you?”

“And who is that supposed to be, sir?”

“Monkey D. Luffy. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

Based on the heavy sigh that came from the hostess you could tell his patience was wearing thin. So was his pleasantness. 

“Well, in that case, I suppose we could find you a table. In three weeks.”

Usopp came to stand beside you with a smile as big as the ocean blue on his face. He was so proud, like he’d accomplished something major. Usopp had both the ability to create bullshit from thin air, and the ability to believe others would believe what he said without question. That’s why he was giving you the finger gun of celebration without noticing the look on the hostess face - or the mumbled words. 

“Even out here, Doc I still got it.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

You noticed Nami move forward as Luffy conjoined himself to your other available side. You were now perfectly sandwiched between your Captain and your best friend. Both of them jumping in giddy excitement at the idea of sitting down at any minute and eating. 

“What are you going to eat, Doc?”

“I hadn’t thought about it, yet. I didn’t think we’d get past the front door.”

“Why is that?”

“She’s always been a little cynical ever since we were kids.”

You balked at Usopp’s admission and if you could’ve scoffed any louder it would’ve turned into a cough. 

“I am not cynical!”

“You are literally one of the most cynical people I’ve ever met.”

“That’s because I’m one of the few people you’ve ever met who still talks to you,” you grumbled. 

“See? That cynicism is turning its ugly little head right now. It’s okay, Doc. I forgive you.”

Your mouth was open, a reply stationed on your tongue, when you heard something shocking behind you. The hostess was advising Nami to follow after him and when you glanced at her as she smiled at Zoro, you wondered what had been said. All it took was for Usopp to see him beckoning for them to follow for his ego to be boosted. His hands clapping happily against yours and Luffy’s shoulders as he giggled out, “See, I told you it would work.” 

You peeled yourself from the railing and headed to follow the rest of the crew when, once again, you realized Zoro was waiting at the stairs edge. He wasn’t looking at you while he waited, however, for his eyes were glued to the many possibilities of would be threats in the room. 

As soon as your feet touched down on the burgundy runner that ran the length of the stairs Zoro followed after. It wasn’t like the last time when you could feel him practically right on your heels. A switch had turned on in his head and Zoro was on high alert. 

Luffy took the last step in a loud double-footed jump that finally brought the attention of most of the tables to your descent. While up top, looking down from the foray, the space in the booth’s had looked massive. It still was, but a startling realization that you could end up next to Zoro left you scrambling for some space. 

“I have to pee.”

You’d just gotten to the tables edge and it felt like the only thing to say to save yourself. Everyone froze for all of a few seconds before they continued scooting into the booth. 

“Okay, Doc. Go to the bathroom,” Nami stated. 

She looked so relaxed that you felt incredibly jealous. You wish you could be that cool, calm, and collected all the time. Except, obviously, when Luffy was testing her patience. 

You turned to ask the host where it could be located when the sound of Zoro’s swords thrashing around turned your head in his direction. For a split second, he looked a little flushed. His eyes scanning the room to see if anyone had watched him try and fail, very badly, at getting his swords to go inside the booth. 

“Just take them off,” you huffed at him in passing. 

“I’ve got this.”

Zoro’s eyes were still trained on the room, on every pair of eyes that dared to stare back, as he moved to the other side with Nami. Even then you watched him struggle to move his swords into the alcove between the pillar and the seat. 

“If you still need to use the facilities Miss, they will be right this way.” 

You gave the table with Luffy and your crew mates one last look before you followed the host closely to the safety behind a locked door. 

Did locking the door seem a bit much when there were four available stalls inside? Yes. When you say you needed to hear that click to signify that you were completely alone to ease some of the growing tension in your shoulders, you meant it. 

You rushed over to the sink and found your hands grabbing at the porcelain to help center yourself. Your head was dizzy from the mental whiplash that seemed to be your relationship with Zoro. One minute, you couldn’t stand him and he seemed equally annoyed with your very existence. The next, he was helping you with your sea sickness or inadvertently doing things around the ship to make your life a little easier. Now, he was looking at you differently. Zoro was acting strange, but honestly, when wasn’t he? 

You glanced up at your reflection in the mirror. The words falling automatically from your lips. 

“So are you.” 

It wasn’t all him. It never was. Cause and effect. One couldn’t exist without the other, and maybe that was why you felt the way you did gazing at your reflection. You’d been trying to deny the gravitational pull that you were hopelessly fighting against ever since you met him. Before you’d ever seen his face your soul seemed to say, “Oh, there you are.” 

It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t scientific and yet here you were locked inside of a bathroom all because the thought of sitting next to him made your heart feel like it would try and flee your chest. 

You allowed yourself a couple more minutes to boost yourself back up. You could do this. It was just a guy. A guy who’d tucked a flower behind your ear and looked at you like you’d both strung up the stars and drank the last bottle of his rum. 

A knock on the bathroom door brought you crashing back to reality. You quickly moved over to the door to release the latch. You’d barely had any time to move back before a woman came barreling through looking not too pleased with you locking the door. You mouthed a, “sorry,” in a way of apology before you made yourself scarce and walked back out to the table. 

The minute you stepped back into the main dining room you got the sense you’d missed something. Your eyes searched over the tables. You found a pair of shoes that belonged to a pair of legs that was attached to a man lying lifelessly still on the floor. 

Yup. You’d most definitely missed something. 

The doctor in you immediately wanted to go to the man and make sure he wasn’t dead. You could practically feel your toes point in the direction for the rest of your body to follow. You just weren’t sure if it was something you should do in a room full of pirates. Plus, no one else seemed particularly worried that he wasn’t breathing so that should be good enough for you. 

You were bouncing on your feet. You wanted to go check so badly. It almost happened to where you were going to say fuck it and just go check when you noticed your waiter at your table. He was tall, strong build set inside a stylish suit with stark white hair that appeared to reach his cheeks. He didn’t look happy to be there until his eyes spotted Nami and a smile as smooth as sin slid across his face. 

He is handsome. 

Nami looked unimpressed and a part of you was dying to know what the hell was happening. Luckily for you, you were about to find out. 

As you approached the table Zoro’s eyes that had narrowed in on their waiter flicked to your oncoming approach and…did he look worried? The annoyance that had hardened his eyes noticeably softened, his back sitting up straighter in his seat while he continued to watch you come to the table. He had his arms crossed over his chest and you wanted to scream. Everything was flexing at you and it just felt like the universe was incredibly unfair. 

“Sorry guys. Uhm have you guys noticed the ugh guy just laying there on the floor” you stated. 

You were looking. Again. 

You were standing next to the waiter who turned to greet you, his hands tucked in his pockets - fuckin great another one. The smile had wilted at the edges until his eyes fell on you and instantly he flashed a set of pretty teeth. 

“They’re alright, madam. Just a couple of men who needed to be reminded of the rules of the house. My name is Sanji and I’ll be your waiter for this evening. Is there anything that I can get you to start? Appetizers? A drink, perhaps?”

Sanji was incredibly polite and his accent was as smooth as the rest of him. His eyes were impossibly blue. While Nami’s appeared almost gray at times, especially when she became upset and the color darkened like storm clouds, Sanji’s reminded you of azure aster’s in the spring. 

“What is the strongest thing you have?”

You really could use that drink. You were in the middle of taking your satchel from across your body, eyes scoping to see where you would sit, when Sanji’s reply stopped you died in your tracks.

“That would be me, sweetheart.”

Did he just wink at you? 

“What’s wrong with your face?”

“I think he just does that.” Nami cut in sending your eyes to travel to where she sat inside the booth. “It’s like an involuntary tick or something.”

“Oh. Explains a lot.”

You knew Sanji could tell you were both taking the piss out of him, but there was no denying he was a good sport about it. 

“Not a tick. Just a show of appreciation for two lovely ladies, such as yourselves.” 

“Okay. I’ve heard enough.” 

A soft yelp of surprise came from you as you felt a soft, yet calloused hand grab at your wrist and, not so gently, pull you to their side. Zoro’s side. He had just magically removed himself from the booth and was pulling you to the now open section. The section that would put you next to Nami, but also him. 

“Oy, women don’t like to be manhandled like that,” Sanji interjected. 

“This one likes to be manhandled quite often. We don’t need your concern.”

Usopp’s water sprayed across the table and you were willing to bet that would’ve been your very own reaction if you didn’t have a mouthful of words. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” You blanched back at him. 

Zoro’s attention wasn’t directed at you. He and the waiter seemed to be in a battle of…something. Even as he sat back down, his legs spread broad and arms crossed back over his chest, Zoro oozed two simple words: “Try me.”

“See, that’s your problem right there. Women don’t like to be manhandled-“

“Sometimes we do,” Nami mumbled and you had to hide your smirk with your hand.

“They like to be treated like queen’s and with respect.”

“I thought a waiter’s job was to bring food to the table. I don’t see any food.” 

The tension that rose around you was palpable. The two of them acted like they were caught in a verbal pissing match. Nervously, you glanced around the table to find Usopp playing with his napkin while peeking out to look at both the men. Luffy just looked genuinely lost. 

Same. 

You imagined there was a chance you would never get that drink, or any food, with how this evening was turning out. Finally, with an irritated roll of his tongue along his jaw Sanji turned to the rest of the table and tried to apply that same easy going smile as before. 

“I’ll be right back with your order. Please let me know if there is anything else I can get you ladies.” 

“They’re fine.” 

With one last glance in Zoro’s direction Sanji left and headed back into what you assumed must be the kitchen. When you were sure he was gone you turned and smacked Zoro in his arm. He didn’t even look phased. 

“What?”

“‘What?’” You mimicked back at him. That earned you a stare. “What in the hell was that?”

“Seems to me like somebody was jealous.”

Usopp teased and for once when Zoro’s eyes narrowed in on him, Usopp didn’t even flinch. 

“I’m not jealous of a waiter.”

“Your actions say otherwise,” Nami reminded him. 

In usual Zoro fashion he didn’t respond right away. His arms tightened a little more on his chest as he situated his back higher against the back of the booth. His jaw ticking like a time bomb refusing to respond to any of your prodding. 

You wanted answers. You wanted him to explain what the hell that was all about, because your skin was still burning where his hand had latched on to you. It felt possessive; a man reaching out to claim something that was his. 

The world around you might as well have gone by in a blur. You knew at some point the drinks and food had been deposited on the table. You could smell the delicious food sitting in front of you; the appetizers everyone was sharing around the table. The only thing you were able to focus on was tracing the place of where his fingers had wrapped around your wrist. Your mind felt like it was held prisoner, unable to let go and it wasn’t until you felt someone’s presence leaning closer to you in the booth that you finally broke free.

“Are you not going to eat?” 

Nami’s question whispered against your neck and you had to fight to suppress the shiver that threatened to move down your spine. When had she gotten so close? Nami was looking at you like you’d given her reason to worry. 

How long had you been sitting there staring off into space? Your eyes drifted to glance around the table - Luffy noticeably with his mouth full - and the drink sitting in front of you. 

“Oh, thank god. Booze,” you mumbled, as you reached out to take the glass. 

It took you less than a minute to bring the rim to your lips and down it in two very audible gulps. You tried not to make a face as the liquor hit the back of your throat. When you’d told Sanji you wanted something strong, he’d delivered. 

“Well, at least you did something other than stare off into space.”

“You know, it might not be any of my business-“

“I don’t think a sentence started that way leads to anything good.”

Usopp didn’t seem the least bit deterred by Zoro’s words. He continued to trim a piece of the meat off his steak while he glanced around the table. While you didn’t know what it was Usopp was about to say or ask, you knew one thing was for sure. You needed more- 

“Beer! Yes!”

God, help you, but you were giggling from excitement of finding more alcohol. Just as you reached out to grab it, Zoro’s voice came bombarding through your good time. 

“That’s mine.”

You were sure Zoro was expecting you to set the bottle back down. To not uncap the top and stare him down as you bring the bottle up to your lips and take a long, slow pull. When you finished you set your now claimed beer down in front of you.

“It was yours.”

“I was wondering, Zoro, how you got that bruise on your face?”

Usopp motioned to the exact spot where the bruise in question used to be with the hand that held his steak knife. You cringed at the idea of him hurting himself, and could feel the words of caution bubbling up on your tongue. 

“I don’t have a bruise.”

“You did, though,” Luffy offered up in between his next bit. “It was on your left cheek.” 

“That was me.”

Why were you raising your hand? Quickly, you set it back down in your lap. The smile that spread across your lips, however, stayed. 

“Doc, let’s not go around telling tall-tales, okay,” Usopp chuckled. 

“Usopp, you are the king of tall-tales. Mine is very much real,” you beamed. 

Nami looked between the two of you. Her eyes got brighter with each passing second as she realized you weren’t lying. 

“Oh my god,” she chuckled. “It is true, isn’t it.” 

“Yup.”

You popped the p at the end for dramatic effect. Your hand grabbing a hold of your new bottle of beer that you quickly took a sip of. 

“You seem way too happy about this,” Zoro grumbled, his food now forgotten. 

You couldn’t deny you were enjoying retelling this moment. The way everyone else acted, it’s as if you’d taken on a giant and everyone was surprised you’d survived. If that was the case, you would have to take a page out of Usopp’s book and embellish the story just a little. 

“So, there I was racing back to get to Kaya’s to save you guys, when I heard a lot of strange grunting coming from the well.” 

“The one you hate?” 

“Yes, Usopp, that exact one. I was going to pass by when the sounds got even worse - someone was indeed stuck inside the well. When I went over to peer across the ledge a wild Moss-haired idiot appeared from the side.”

“I’m going to have to object to this retelling.”

You waved Zoro’s words off and fought the urge to shush him. 

“No interruptions, please. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah the Moss-haired idiot who came over the side-“

“And instead of helping me this psycho decided to punch me and almost send me back down the well.”

“Psycho?” You balked.

“Yeah, a psycho. What kind of person sees someone struggling to get out of a well and, instead of helping them, tries to send them back down?”

“Why are you guys always like this,” Nami cut in.

“Like what?”

“You guys act like you can’t say one nice thing to each other or it’s going to be the end of the world.”

“I can too say something nice.”

You were not going to pout. Nami’s brows raised upwards like you’d told her there was no such thing as the West Blue and that fish could fly. You crossed your arms to try and ward her off, but there was no getting away from it. 

“Can I just say, this food is so good? I don’t know if I can take another bite - but I’m gonna.”

You allowed them to comment about the food. The food you still hadn’t tried. While you’d sat in silence, stewing over thoughts filled with questions and not enough answers everyone had eaten. 

“Oh, man you said it.” 

“I’m not going to be able to eat for a week,” Nami agreed. 

“Should we get dessert?”

“I have all I need right here,” Zoro stated, his thumb flicking the top off his beer before he took a drink. 

You could feel a smart ass remark sitting in the back of your throat. You wanted to say it - to see that flash of irritation darken his eyes. You liked the idea of getting under his skin, because whether you wanted to admit it or not, Zoro was definitely under yours. Maybe it would’ve been simpler if you’d stayed at Syrup Village. 

“Mmm! That reminds me. We should make a toast! Everyone grab your glasses. To the best crew sailing on the sea and to our victory. Yeah!”

Luffy grabbed his glass of milk and held it up. His happiness is enough to get most of you to join him in raising a glass. Hell, it was enough to get Usopp to clink his beer against Luffy’s milk. 

Beside you, Zoro smiled and took a drink from his bottle and you never wanted to be an alcoholic beverage more in your life. You needed to get out of this booth. You seriously needed to go back to the ship and think about your life choices. 

“No, I’m sorry. What victory exactly?”

Nami didn’t try to make her tone flat or hide the question off her face. She was genuinely perplexed, while the rest of you were eager for any reason just to drink. 

“Our victory against the marines. It was our very first battle and we crushed them.”

“I don’t know how many naval battles you guys have been a part of-“

“Two dozen, at least.”

Why did Usopp’s response not surprise you in the slightest. 

“But that was a disaster,” Nami continued without missing a beat. “We were unprepared, uncoordinated. By all rights, we should be at the bottom of the sea.”

“We’re not though. Luffy saved us.”

For a split second, this Nami you were seeing was different from the one you’d spent the last few days aboard the Merry. Sure, at times she could have a prickly exterior, but never like this. Usopp defending Luffy triggered something inside her - something rage-filled and dangerous. Something born from desperation. 

“Are we really going to ignore the elephant in the room right now?”

Luffy was smiling like he usually did. Unable to follow wherever Nami was leading you all, but you could sense it. You weren’t sure what drove you to try and play peacekeeper. Why you spoke her name softly between you and tried to reach out to her, only for her to pull away like you’d stung her. 

“You failed to mention that your grandfather was a marine. And not just any marine, but a Vice-Admiral, at that! I don’t know about you three, but I didn’t sign up for that.”

Zoro had been listening to her through closed eyes. You weren’t sure if he was truly trying to listen or dismiss what she had to say, but it surprised you when he stepped in. His first instinct was to stick up for Luffy, something you hadn’t been expecting. 

“You raided a marine base. Of course that’ll make you a target.” 

“I’m sorry what?”

If you had been drinking or eating, you would’ve choked. Neither of them seemed to pay you any mind. 

“If I stole the map, no one would’ve known I was there, as opposed to wrecking a base commander’s office.” 

Yes, you could vaguely recall Luffy’s speech to Kaya about all the marvelous things they’d done in the few days they’d known each other. Did you necessarily believe him at the time? Not really. But now…

Before a fresh wave of thoughts could wash up in your brain, Sanji magically appeared placing the bill on the table. 

“Your bill, sir.”

Luffy looked around at all of you, a soft smile playing at his lips, as he held up his finger for all of you to wait. He quickly signed the receipt and handed it back. 

“Thank you, my good man.”

Sanji took the bill back, his eyebrow quirked up as he read whatever Luffy had signed at the bottom. Whatever it was sent a grin wider than the East Blue to brighten up his face. 

“No, sir. Thank you.”

Luffy waited for Sanji to leave the table before he looked back at you all. For once, he wasn’t all smiles. All that care-free energy was contained and replaced with a seriousness you weren’t sure you liked. 

“Look, I’m not saying it’s good that the Marines are on our tail, but we showed them that they can’t just roll over us. This crew, our crew, can handle anything.”

It would’ve been a riveting Captain's speech if it wasn’t interrupted the second he finished speaking. 

“Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?”

The voice that rang across the Baratie was thick with age. You didn’t have to look far to know it belonged to the older gentleman who stood at the entrance to what you could only assume was the kitchen. His peg leg made clunking noises off the tile as he made his way towards the table. 

How did he know where to go? Luffy was just leaning out the side of the booth waving ever so-slightly with his smile back on his face. “Here.”

“You seem to be confused about the rules of the house, but Baratie doesn’t offer credit. You eat, you pay.”

How much is the food? 

You only had thirty-three Berry to your name. You started to reach inside your bag when Luffy waved you to stop. The older Chef looked from you and back to Luffy who placed his hands together like he was about to pray. 

“I think you’re confused. The meal has already been paid for. I just haven’t given you the money yet.”

“Yeah, and how’s that?”

“You can add it to my treasure tab.”

Your forehead hit the edge of the table so fast you weren’t even sure it actually hurt. 

“And what, pray tell, is that?”

“I may not look like a big deal yet, but you’re talking to the future King of the Pirates. And as soon as I find the One Piece, I’m going to come back, pay this bill in full, and with interest.” 

At least the Chef had the decency to chuckle before he lurched down and grabbed Luffy by the front of his overalls. 

“I got a better idea.” 

You watched as he placed Luffy in front of him with a controlling hand held on to his shoulder. A way to keep him from running, if he tried, but you knew Luffy would go without a fight. You glanced around the table to find no one making a move to follow. 

“You guys are seriously just going to sit here,” you huffed. 

Nami leaned her head back against the booth. Her eyes looking up at the ceiling and refusing to look anywhere else. 

“I need a drink.”

“Yeah,” Zoro chuckled as he grabbed a hold of what was left of his beer. “Now you’re talking.” 

You’d waited until they all removed themselves from the booth before you slipped away. You were sure the three of them wouldn’t miss your presence as you made your way towards the kitchen. It wasn’t until you’d passed the last pillar before the kitchen that you felt the familiar touch of calloused fingers wrap themselves lazily around your wrist. 

The tug you felt this time was softer - a plea for your attention instead of forcing it. You weren’t sure what you expected when you turned around. If Zoro would be his usual unreadable smoothness like stone or if the corner of his eyes would be tinged with annoyance. There were only a few possibilities that you’d grown accustomed to and all of them were nothing of what you got. 

When you turned to meet him, Zoro didn’t look like he usually did. The hardness that kept him unreadable was replaced with something softer. His lips parted as he searched your face with your wrist still held loosely in his hand. 

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to help, Luffy.”

“Luffy, can handle himself.” 

“Zoro-“

You weren’t sure why your tone had come off saying his name as breathy as it did. As if you were both tucked inside the alcove of a church hiding to keep from being caught doing something forbidden. You also couldn’t explain why when he dropped your wrist from his hand you’d chosen to place it on his chest. It wasn’t until you’d done that you realized just how close you both were. 

“I’m not going to leave him to do dishes by himself until he tells me too.” 

“How do you know he’s doing dishes?”

“Why the hell else would he take him into the kitchen?” 

“Good point.”

You removed your hand from his chest and, for a split second, you thought you saw a glint of loss. 

“You guys head to the bar and I’ll meet you there shortly.”

Zoro made no move to leave. He stood there looking every bit as intimidating as a man with three swords could be, while also looking seemingly lost. He appeared to be thinking something over - a debate in his mind about whether or not he should even say whatever was weighing heavily there. 

You almost told him to just spit it out, but he looked like he would rather chew on razor blades than say whatever it was. When Zoro finally got it off his chest it sounded like he’d choked. 

“What about the waiter?”

Confusion clouded your features as you replied, “What about him? Do you need me to find him for you or-“

Zoro waved you off. He looked more awkward now than you’d ever seen him. All the cool confidence that he’d oozed seemingly gone in the blink of an eye, and replaced with a hand behind his neck and eyes that refused to meet yours. 

“No. I mean be careful of the waiter?”

“I’m confused.” That was an understatement. “Is there something I’m missing about this waiter?”

“No - it's - never mind. I’ll just see you when you finish doing whatever it is you plan to do.” 

“Okay.”

“What are you planning to do?”

Your head was metaphorically and literally spinning from the conversation. One second, Zoro looked ready to follow after Usopp and Nami who were no doubt already at a table with drink in hand. The next, he seemed uncharacteristically bashful. 

You didn’t want to smile. What if it ruined the moment? 

“I plan on helping Luffy by helping the Chef.”

“I’m going to pretend that makes sense.”

When you gave him a thumbs up in response you wished lightning would’ve come down and burnt you to a crisp. What made it worse? From the smile that was beginning to work its way at the corners of Zoro’s lips, you could practically hear what he was going to say. 

“You really are masterful with replies.”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go in there now,” you stated. Your body slowly backed away from him and the heart stopping smile that was only growing wider. 

When did he start smiling at you like that?

You were almost to the swinging double doors when someone came rushing through and collided immediately with your back. The sound of dishes crashing sent your eyes wide and finally tore you away from the swordsman in front of you. 

“Fuck.”

“Oi, what’s going on out here?”

Double fuck. 

You stooped down to help the waiter pick up the pieces of plates that had shattered on the ground and the food right along with it. 

“What the bloody hell is going on ‘ere?”

Looking up from your crouched position on the floor, you were greeted by the same Chef who had pulled Luffy into the back. Without thinking you jolted to stand upright to face him with your hands struggling to keep the pieces of broken plate from dropping. 

“I came to help my Captain in your kitchen.”

As the words left your mouth, so too did a couple pieces of a plate. 

“No.”

It was abrupt. It was harsh and it was final. He didn’t even give you a chance to try and change his mind. The hard sound of his peg leg turning back into the kitchen cutting off whatever your next sentence might have been. 

“Hey! I can help!”

You pushed through the double doors and narrowly missed a cook passing by with a flaming piece of meat sautéing in the pan. You pulled a face and quickly moved away. This time you were watching closely where you were going and playing extra close attention to the fast pace movements happening around you. 

For someone so large, the Chef made his way with ease around the kitchen. You weren’t sure if he was just light on his feet or if everyone in the kitchen just learned to work around him. 

“No.” He sounded like he’d smoked two packs of smokes a day and finished it off by gargling with a cigar. “What you can do is get out of my kitchen before you make more of a mess.”

“Hey Doc!” Luffy waved from his place in the corner. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to help you.”

And to show how helpful you were, you placed the broken pieces of plate down on the table. The old man regarded him momentarily before looking back at you. 

“You’re with him?”

“Yeah I am.”

The old man turned back to Luffy, a large thumb pointed back to you as he spoke, “She broke a couple plates outside. That’s also added to your tab.”

“Oh, okay wait!” You came around the corner of a cutting station, arms still out in front of you like you were warding off a bear. “That’s why I'm here. I have a service I think would benefit you.”

“And what, pray tell, would that be?”

You put on your brightest smile and flared your arms out in front of you like you were a prize to behold. 

“I’m a doctor.” 

You expected a different reaction. A completely different reaction to him looking like he was about to make you fish food. 

“Get out of my kitchen.”

“Did you hear me-“

“I heard you just fine, girl. What I need is for you to get out of my kitchen.” 

The way he called you girl reminded you of Naan. It was the same tone that was used to tell you that you were in the way. You weren’t helping. You were just being a pain in the ass. There were more than a handful of times that you’d told Naan you could help; you knew enough to assist with minor surgeries. To help with childbirth when the women came in hollering and screaming like their body was being broken and molded anew. 

You’d spent your whole life learning how to forage and create and heal. You knew you could help - that you could ease this man’s pain. 

“No.”

When crystal blue eyes honed in on your position you refused to bend. You stared back at him and for the first time ever you squared your own shoulders in defiance. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Your stump - I bet it hurts you something awful. The problem with prosthetics is that they still rub the skin - can bruise. What if I tell you that I can make you a salve that can alleviate that for you?”

He’d placed his hands on his hips somehow making him appear broader. He was trying to intimidate you, but he had nothing on a little old lady and her cane. 

“She is really the best doctor in all of the East Blue. If your leg really does hurt you, why not let Doc try and see if it helps?” 

He looked from Luffy and back to you - his eyes showing how undecided he was. You thought you were going to have to try again when he finally replied, “You got one hour before the second dinner. If it isn’t as good as you say I’m doubling what he owes me.”

The joy you felt at winning something was quickly taken from you as you resisted the urge to chase after him. 

“Wait what?!”

The old man wasn’t going to answer you. He was too busy walking away, off to see something about food. You didn’t even get a chance to ask him for a pot or if he had any mortars in his kitchen. You glanced over at Luffy who was giving you two thumbs up and smiling his usual smile. 

At least one of you believed in you. 

You were about to remind him that you were left with nothing to use when the waiter from earlier, Zoro’s best friend, magically appeared. His jacket was now missing and the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to expose his forearms. 

“I’m assuming you’re in need of some assistance.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding released from you in a soft laugh of gratitude. 

“Yes, please! I need a pot and mortar and pestle. If you can direct me where to get them-“

“No, I can get them for you. I live to serve.” 

Sanji spared you one last parting smile before he moved swiftly around the kitchen collecting what you’d asked. Everything else you either already had in your satchel or you could easily run back to the ship to get. Somewhere in the back of your mind, when Sanji came back to hand you your requested items and winked, you swore you could hear Zoro’s teeth grinding in irritation. 

Zeff, as you later learned from Sanji, had given you all of one hour to make your salve. You’d finished in forty minutes. 

The kitchen had been cleared out and empty, which you learned was the usual between the break up in the first, second, and third dinner. It also meant it gave you ample time to look over Zeff’s leg. Not that the old man looked the least bit thrilled about it. 

His rough exterior was making it hard for you not to be a little jumpy. Add in the extra audience of both Luffy and Sanji who seemed to be fascinated just from you removing the old man’s boot a little harder to work. 

The minute you’d removed the wooden prosthetic from his knee you immediately could see the bruising. The hard rashes that bleed across the skin leaving angry marks that almost threatened to make the skin weep. You couldn’t keep the air from hissing between your teeth as you took in a sharp breath. 

You could hear Zeff too. The way he tried to swallow back down a groan that threatened to become something close to a cry of pain. Gently, you set it aside and started getting to work. Your hands pull out clean linen and wrap from your satchel and the green chiterra you’d just harvested. 

You got up from where you sat and poured warm water into a bowl Luffy just cleaned. Immediately, you placed a clean cloth inside until it was completely soaked and rung it out before you gently placed it on his stump. You could hear the whistle of pain flash between his teeth, but you didn’t look to see if he was glaring at you still. You continued to smash up the chiterra until it made a paste. 

Once you knew everything was ready, you gently began to clean the skin; exposing the places where the rash had torn skin. In those areas you placed the chiterra and in the areas where no broken skin showed you deposited the salve. The minty scent enveloped the space and as you began to wrap up Zeff’s leg, you dared to peek at him. 

“What is that smell? Mint?”

“Aloe Vera. It helps with burns and irritations on the skin. I figured it would help soothe your skin. Give you some relief.”

“Hmmm.”

It was a sound you’d grown up with. Naan made the same kind when she was unsure of what to say. When she wasn’t ready to admit you were right or that you’d proven yourself capable. 

“There.” You huffed as you put the prosthetic back on. “Make sure you wash it at least once a day. The salve can be put on two to three times daily. Don’t be scared to be generous with it and-“ you pulled the piece of paper you’d written the measurements and ingredients on. Your fingers waving it back and forth in front of him just to make sure you had his attention. “I’ll give you the recipe if you knock off more than half of what Luffy owes you. Deal?”

“You really think your fancy medicine is worth more than my food?”

“Is it worth more than your comfort? You tell me: how does your leg feel now?”

You tried to hide your growing smile as you could see the battle Zeff was warring on in his head. While he was old and stubborn, you knew relief from pain of any kind was usually the path most took. 

With a heavy sigh, Zeff put his hand out for the paper and you knew you had him. This time you did allow a cheeky smile to celebrate. 

“Your Naan teach you to be a pain in the ass like this too?” 

“Nope. That I’ve learned all on my own.” 

“Sounds about right.”

You leaned back on the stool and watched as Zeff began to get up. The caution his body had grown accustomed too every time he moved was noticeable in his slow movements. 

“I told you she was the best in all of the East Blue.”

Luffy looked so proud. You weren’t sure what you expected, but the amount of pride he radiated was something new to you. Sure, you’d had Naan tell you that you did good but it wasn’t the same. There was something about the way Luffy looked at people - really looked - to the point for the first time you felt seen. 

Luffy didn’t just say he thought you were the best because he was trying to talk you up. He believed in you and what you could do. 

“Yeah, that may be so, but you still owe me some clean dishes.” 

“I’ll get right on it.”

He smacked the top of the chair he’d been sitting in as he got up. He didn’t argue or call for a rest. Luffy simply headed back towards the sink to finish on the load of dishes he’d left as they’d watched you work. The idea of him still slaving away in the space while you were all out there enjoying yourselves didn’t feel right.  

“You should be able to go out with the rest of us and have a drink.”

“I’ll be alright here. You go on ahead and meet the rest of the crew. I’ll be with you guys soon enough.” 

How soon? It didn’t feel right to leave him there. Even worse to bring over dishes you’d gotten dirty for him to wash in the end. 

“At least let me wash these, Luffy.”

He’d opened his mouth to tell - what? To tell you to go again, most likely but you never actually heard him say it. Right when he was about to speak, Sanji was just there. His hands gently taking the dishes out of yours and walking over to place them beside the sink. 

“How about I do these dishes for you.”

“Why would you do that?”

Sanji glanced away from you for a moment. His eyes focusing in on a memory, maybe. Whatever it was memory or thought, his eyes went into a thousand yard stare. One that was untouchable as the clouds. Finally, he turned to look at you and a touch of a smile was back. 

“Zeff is cantankerous old shit bag but-“

“But he’s your cantankerous old shit bag. I get it.”

And you did. Naan and Zeff had a lot in common, specifically in their not-so-great parenting that wasn’t parenting skills. Even more so in the way they tried to make it seem like any help you tried to give wasn’t going to be good enough. You’d just come to realize that, while at first you’d hated Naan for always telling you it just wasn’t good enough, whatever you did, you realized as you got older it was because she knew you could do better. Would you have preferred a hug? A lighter lesson sharing a cup of hot chocolate? Hell yeah you would’ve but…this was okay too. 

The closed smile Sanji wore cracked a little as you finished his sentence. A smile of realizing someone else understood seemed to make the tension ease from his shoulders just a bit. 

“I’ll wash these up for you and let’s say, in return, you have a drink with me later.” 

He’d remove the dish towel from his shoulders; his right hand tightened inside the fabric as he used it to prop himself up just a little. He was leaning against the counter with that soft, inviting smile still barely showing any teeth. You realized as you considered his offer you liked it better when he was smiling just a little too wide; all the flirting making him happier than he seemed now. 

Fuck you wondered what Zoro would do if he knew what you were about to say? What did it matter anyways? It wasn’t like you belonged to each other or had feelings or…you know…whatever. 

It was your turn to take your head out of the clouds and look back over at Sanji. He wasn’t being pushy. You were sure if you told him no he would be a gentleman about it. So, taking a deep breath you finally gave him your response. 

“A drink would be good.” 

What in the absolute hell’s were you doing? 

In a matter of a millisecond, Sanji brightened up and it made your chastising fall short. It couldn’t be that big of a deal if it made him this happy, it could it? 

“Great. I’ll finish up here and find you at the bar.”

“Alright. I guess I’ll see you in a bit then.”

You replaced your satchel over your shoulder and started to make your way towards the back door. You weren’t even sure where the bar was. Wherever it was you knew a certain Moss-haired swordsman would be there with the others. 

“Good. It’s a date.” 

You whirled around so fast the vertigo almost threatened to topple you over. 

“Ugh, it is not a date.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” Sanji teased, his hand flipping the dish towel back over his shoulder. 

He looked so smug. Why were all the men you were running into either smug, attractive, and a pain in the ass? Well, besides Luffy, that is. He was becoming your sunshine son whether he agreed or not. 

“It sounds like a drink,” you responded. 

Your feet were still carrying you to the back door, but you honestly couldn’t get there fast enough. 

“A drink under the stars and hushed conversation.” 

“To have a hushed conversation you have to be like this close,” using your hands you indicate the amount of space necessary to make that even a remote possibility, “and it’s in a crowded place, which means yelling.” 

“You’re adorable you know when you’re all flushed like that.” 

“Excuse me while I go throw myself overboard.”

“Doc! Make sure Nami or Usopp get you out!” Luffy called after you. “I won’t be able to go in.” 

You weren’t going to tell him it was a figure of speech. He seemed so genuinely concerned that you would just throw yourself off that you kind of didn’t want to ruin the moment. One last glance at Sanji before you left out the back door, and you debated whether you were joking or not. 

You weren’t exactly sure where you were heading, you just knew that there was the sound of music. Music usually meant very few things. Either someone was having a dinner party with music playing in the background, highly unlikely, or you were headed directly for the bar. 

The bar where your crew mates were at. The bar that Zoro was at and the same bar Sanji would come looking for you at later. God, how soon was later? The thought made each new step you took sound more pronounced, louder than the last as you practically dragged yourself into the fish’s mouth. 

It wasn’t an incredibly large space. It was pretty crowded already, and if it wasn’t for its size you would’ve worried you wouldn’t have been able to find them. Luckily for you, Usopp spotted you first and waved you over to the table they’d claimed right at the edge of the fish’s lip. 

While Nami and Zoro were nursing a beer and whiskey, respectfully, Usopp apparently found a punch bowl. By the looks of said punch bowl and the glossy look hollowing out Usopp’s eyes, you knew you were going to need one just as big. 

“Where did you get that fish bowl and do they have more?” You asked, removing your satchel and sitting down next to Nami. 

“Nice of you to finally join us.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to be missed.”

You clutched your hands dramatically to your chest causing Nami to bump into you playfully in response. 

“In all seriousness though, I’m going to need one of those fish bowls. ASAP.”

“I don’t know if you want one, Doc,” Usopp replied before taking another long pull from his straw. “It tastes just like candy. I don’t even think there is any liquor in this.” 

“Pace yourself.” Zoro warned. “Last time I said that I ended up face down underneath a table.” 

You leaned forward, your elbows resting on the small table, as you cupped your chin in your hands. You tried for cute and tried to smile that ended up squished between cheeks and hands. 

“What were you doing under the table?”

“Napping,” he replied curtly. 

“No one chooses to nap under a table in a bar.”

“I’ve napped in the crow’s nest on the Merry a few times.”

Yup. There was definitely liquor in that fishbowl. 

“By the way, if you see Sanji let me know. I inadvertently may have slightly agreed to have a drink with him.” 

“Nami’s boyfriend?”

“Nami’s what?”

“The waiter?!” 

“He is not my boyfriend,” Nami protested a finger up to signify to Usopp to make a point, “and what is happening?”

“He asked after I fixed up Zeff’s - the big angry Chef - leg. I made a little salve for him to help take the pain away when he wore the prosthetic.”

“And somehow that led to you being asked for a drink?”

“I guess?” You shrugged. 

“Man, I gotta try that,” Usopp mumbled as he took another long sip through his straws. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone.” 

Your eyes panned over to Zoro. His arms painfully tight across his chest and his jaw wasn’t faring any better. It looked painful. You wanted to remind him it was possible to get lockjaw just from grinding your teeth into dust. 

“Well, I’m going to go get me a fishbowl.” 

You remove yourself from your newly claimed spot and walk over towards the bar. The bartender himself seemed easy enough, happy to take your money, and even happier to take a tip as he handed over your drink. It was so heavy that you thought it would take you half a decade just to get it back to the table without spilling it. So, the best way to combat spillage was by starting to drink some down. 

Usopp was right. They did taste exactly like candy.

When you arrived back at the table, it was noticeably more quiet. Nami’s eyes focused on her now empty glass that she swirled around in her hand. Zoro wasn’t looking at you, as per usual, as if you’d done something wrong and Usopp was busy finishing off his drink. You weren’t sure how to inject yourself back into a conversation that had grown stagnant. You weren’t born with the ease of conversation; not like Nami who always seemed to know what to do. When to smile and the right words to make someone open up. You’d only take a couple of sips of your drink when Zoro’s gruff voice sliced into the silence. 

“What are you holding onto that is so heavy?” 

He took a drink from his own glass as he waited for Nami to speak. To lift her head up or show any signs that she’d heard him. 

“You guys seriously don’t think what Luffy did was messed up?”

You weren’t following. You were too busy taking another drink, eyes darting between the two of them. You felt silly. Obviously, whatever was bothering Nami wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t something she was holding close to ruin you all later, but whatever it was that weighed on her she felt Luffy had done something detrimental. Almost. 

Zoro regarded her evenly before he set his glass back down on his thigh. His gaze looked away from her as he replied, “Yeah. He should’ve told us. But if you haven’t noticed we’ve been making enemies everywhere we go. Psycho clowns, killer butlers: what are the Marines going to do?” 

 “You don’t understand. I can’t get caught not when I’m so close-“

Nami looked ready to break. The tears of panic that edged at the corners of her eyes made all the earlier playfulness disappear. The sharpness of words you threatened to say to defend Luffy losing their edge as you watched her stare into her glass like it would be able to give her all the answers. To tell her it would all be okay. 

Zoro looked between you and Usopp, who was doing his best to not be a part of this particular conversation. His lips wrapped around the straws buried deep in his drink and refused to let go. 

Men. 

You were about to reach out to her, to ask her if she was okay, really okay, not just the kind you pretend to be through words when a mask of a smile was back on her face. She set down her glass and gave a quick glance around the table before clapping her hands down on her bare legs and lifting up out of her seat. 

“Who wants a drink? It’s on me.”

“That’s my favorite kind.”

“Of course it is.”

You ignored Zoro’s stare as Nami removed herself from the booth - from all of you. She was more than halfway to the bar when you reached over and smacked Zoro’s shoulder. He looked surprised for all of a second before he looked from his shoulder and back to you. 

“‘That’s my favorite kind.’” You mimicked. “God, who says that?”

“Someone who likes free drinks?” Usopp offered up. 

“You are both -“

“Impossible. We know.”

Shaking your head, you shimmied out of the booth and started making your way through the groups of people. You could barely see Nami up ahead with an older gentleman speaking to her. A spindle of curiosity began to weave its way inside your belly and filled your head with questions. He didn’t seem to be flirting with her or trying. No, they seemed to be discussing business. 

“Nami.”

You spoke her name lightly the way you would an animal that was skittish. The hand you’d reached out to tap her shoulder falling short as she turned halfway to face you. 

“Hey, Doc, what are you doing?”

“I came to check on you.”

Nami pulled a face, her shoulders shrugging just enough to brush off your words. 

“I promise you, I’m just fine. I don’t need a check-up or anything like that.”

The bartender chose at that moment to set down a bottle of rum and four shot glasses, which Nami grabbed immediately. She thanked him with a smile and turned to head back to the table forcing you to practically run after her. 

“Nami- Nami, wait!”

“What do you want?!”

The anger of her words forced you to take a step back. Your hands raised just to let her know you meant her no harm. 

“Do you remember when I told you that you had a friend in Syrup village?”

“What about it?”

“While I didn’t stay in the village, I’m still your friend and while I may not be able to protect you like Zoro, or be full of sunshine and stretchy like Luffy, or hell, be as sharp as Usopp with a slingshot I’m still here for you. Does that make sense?”

“I think?”

“I Just- okay look I’m not good at this either. My only friend I had was Usopp and I’m not sure how to say this but if you need to talk or if anything is bothering you, you can tell me. I’m not going to judge you or you know…”

It all felt like it was going good in your head and then you breathed, started talking, and for some reason panicked. Bless Nami for finding it all vaguely amusing, from what you could tell, because the smile that graced her lips was the one you’d come to expect. Bright and full of the youth sometimes you feel like she’d missed. 

“Why do you get so awkward at the end of long speeches?” 

Her words were light and airy; full of the laughter that flowed through each one. You allowed her go wrap her arm around your shoulders as you both moved back to the table. Your own laughter threatening to burst at any minute. 

“I don’t get awkward.”

You could hear the eye roll she gave as you both began to release one another. You wouldn’t fit in the booth this way if you didn’t. 

“Every time. Without fail. You start off so strong.”

“I just get nervous that I’m not making any sense, especially when you’re saying things that matter.”

“What you said back there matters?”

She’d placed the rum and glasses down on the table. Usopp’s fishbowl long since emptied and Zoro was moving towards the bottle at Lightning speed, as if he couldn’t wait to meet oblivion. Before Nami disappeared back into the booth you gently grabbed her hand to stop her making sure she faced you completely before you spoke low enough for only her to hear. 

“It matters because you matter to me, Nami. All jokes aside, just don’t forget I’m here for you.”

Her eyes pricked with the edge of tears but she quickly nodded and turned away from you. The only proof you’d gotten she heard you was the soft squeeze of her hand in yours just before she let you go. 

“God, I don’t know which one of them is worse. Can that even be classified as dancing?”

Nami’s soft laughter filtered over to him and Zoro couldn’t help but respond with a smile. At some point, you’d dived head first into too many of the giant fishbowls, deciding not to heed his warning, and come out the other side completely and utterly shit faced. So, when Usopp asked you to join him out on the dance floor, you didn't hesitate. For the last hour, Zoro wished there was a camera around just to hold this moment hostage from time. 

He watched as you did moves he was willing to bet, if you were sober, would flush your cheeks in the rosy hue he’d found himself becoming obsessed with ever since he’d placed that snowdrop behind your ear. Another moment that time had taken he’d hoped to have burned into his memory. The way you’d looked up at him shifted something inside him, and Zoro wasn’t sure if he could ever get it back, or if he even cared it was gone. 

You were in the middle of your next move - one arm behind your head while the other was close to your side. Your shoulder rotating in strange circles as your body bounced off beat. Usopp had gone back to doing a shuffle beside you that broke you out of your dance and into his. 

Zoro could feel a smile threatening to burst its way on to his lips. Quickly, he brought his beer up and took a long pull from the glass. 

“You’re different with her.” Every word was punctuated. Slow. As if Nami was afraid saying it too fast would spook him. 

He took the glass from his lips and set it back on his thigh. His hand still wrapped around the cool mug as he finally regarded Nami. 

“I’m not different with anybody.”

“Well, that’s not true. You’re different with Luffy; with us. I’m betting you don’t look at us the way you look at her, though.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It’s nothing. 

God, he wanted it to be true. Even now, however, he could feel his neck straining to stay facing Nami’s direction. He wanted to look back and see what you were doing. To make sure you were safe. 

And that waiter hadn’t magically appeared.

Nami must have known he was lying. She may have been a thief, but Zoro had come to realize her bullshit calling meter was the best he’d ever seen. She regarded him coolly with her brows raised in mock shock. 

“I have eyes, Zoro. Unless you’re looking at me the same way when I’m not looking - it’s different.”

If he played it cool, kept his face free of emotion, and didn’t react he could still call her a liar. It was a solid plan that would’ve worked if his jaw hadn’t ticked in annoyance. Zoro wasn’t annoyed with Nami. He was annoyed at himself for being caught wanting something -someone - besides his goal. 

He looked down into the safety of the amber liquid in his glass. Unsure of what - how - to begin to deny you hadn’t snuck in and taken a piece of him and called it yours. Luckily, he didn’t have to. 

“Look,” Nami sighed. “I know you’ve got your own thing going on. Who doesn’t.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a but coming,” he grumbled.

“But it’s okay to still want other things too.”

Zoro allowed himself to look up from the safety of the glass and willed himself to appear emotionless as he considered her. His mind was still mulling over her words and what Nami could possibly be trying to get at. 

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like her.” 

No. 

In a flash, Zoro could see how simple it would be to have you. His imagination ran in a million directions, in a trillion scenarios of a life that held a path for you to walk with him. He almost gave in and allowed the warmth of the idea of touching you, knowing you, to consume him until a clash of swords resonated in his mind. 

As fast as it was created, it was destroyed. He found himself back in the woods standing in front of Kuina, so full of fire and life. The determination lit a fire in her eyes until he could’ve sworn he’d be consumed. 

“Until one of us is the greatest swordsman who ever lived.” 

It was his goal then just like she had been his goal - and it had remained his goal even now. Zoro couldn’t allow himself to lose sight of that. It was his dream to be the world’s greatest swordsman, but it had also been hers. 

Kuina. 

Zoro could still see her there waiting for him. Dead and dried leaves crunching under her feet as she waited for him to meet her in the clearing, her eyes brimming with challenge. 

Zoro could almost feel his muscles taut and ready to go to her. His thumb playing at the hilt of his sword, to pull it out in one smooth motion and come forward those last few feet in a class of steel. He could feel his feet moving and the sound of the leaves crunching under his weight. He was almost to her when the sound of laughter floating through the breeze like a wind chime forced him to stop. He didn’t know who or what it was, or why his first thought was you, but when he turned to glance behind him he felt his heart stop.

He was suddenly standing back in the lavender fields at Irkhaven. Zoro’s eyes scanned around until you were there, like Kuina, standing just out of reach. You were surrounded by a sea of purple and sunlight that only seemed to brighten as you smiled in his direction. It was the smile that warmed him down to his bones and made his chest ache for once with something other than sadness and guilt. Zoro wouldn’t dare think it - risk saying it - in case this was some kind of spell. 

You spoke his name - beckoning him to follow you - just like Kuina. Underneath all of your softness you held your own fire, your own determination, that made you appear wild. The wind whipping at your hair and turning you ethereal amongst all the life that you held within your eyes. 

Zoro could feel himself stuck between the place where he began and the place where he was going. Where you were waiting with Luffy, Usopp, and Nami. A place he never imagined his life would take him and yet…

The sound of Nami almost shouting his name shook him out of his thoughts and the sound of cracking glass filtered through moments later. He could feel the glass in his hand fracturing; dangerously close to collapsing inward if he squeezed harder. He set the weeping glass down and spared a glance to Nami as he removed himself from the seat.

“Hey, Zoro, are you okay?”

He hated how he could see the concern was etched into every crease of her features. The way she pretended to care. He made sure his hand was secured on the Wado Ichimonji before he stood to his full height. His eyes glancing over at you and Usopp now entrenched in a dance battle. 

Suddenly, being inside the mouth of a fish made him feel like he was being swallowed whole. He couldn’t be near you - couldn’t risk confessing in the heat of a drunken moment that you had consumed him, mind and soul, and he wasn’t sure if he cared. 

“I gotta go back to the Merry. Forgot something.”

“Forgot what? Zoro? Zoro!”

He didn’t look behind him to see what Nami was doing. Their earlier game of “guess my trauma,” officially over as he rushed towards the next dock. The pounding of his heart reminding him of the dangers of caring; of allowing yourself to get wrapped up in other people. 

To this day, Zoro could still feel the ice that pierced his heart when he was told Kuina was gone. The way the world seemed to shift into madness and somehow remain the same. It was his mind that could no longer make sense of a world where she no longer resided. Zoro would’ve gone to the gates of hell to get her back if he could and with the searing vision of your smile, head whipped back in joy, Zoro felt that same exact emotion he’d felt over seven years ago. 

He would tear the world apart to keep you in it and that was a confession he couldn’t afford to say. 

For the last hour Zoro had been able to sit in the stillness of the ship and enjoy the silence. The only intrusive sound was that of things moving below the water and the of the wet stone sliding across the Wado Ichimonji. 

It’d taken him longer than he’d ever admit to collect himself. His meditation hadn’t been able to clear his mind the way it usually did, and it wasn’t until he’d begun to take care of Kuina’s blade that his thoughts had ceased.

Of course, all good things were meant to come crashing down. 

“How long do you think you’re going to hide out here and pout?”

Zoro’s wrist stopped mid-motion down the sword. His eyes unable to tear away from the moonlight gleaming on the blade just in case looking at you sent him reeling over the edge again. 

Being alone with you on the Merry was about the worst thing that could happen to him. At least at the bar he would have continued to play twenty questions with Nami and been surrounded by plenty of sound to help drown out whatever was going on with him. 

You aren’t focused. 

But he was, wasn’t he? In the last seven years, Zoro had devoted himself to his training. To become stronger. Faster. The only swordsman to use three swords and earn the name of The Demon. With every waking hour Zoro was closer to becoming who he - who she - dreamed of being. 

The sound of your footsteps drawing closer almost made him delirious. His hand tightening down on the wet stone before he set it down beside him. His eyes turned out to look once more into the endless midnight in front of him. 

“Who says I’m hiding?”

His voice sounded rough, like it hadn’t been used in months. He picked up the rum he’d taken from his room and took a swig to clear his throat and his senses. By the time he finished taking his drink, you were standing beside where he sat on the crate. Your arms wrapped around your middle with your hip cocked looking like you were ready to give him hell. 

I am hiding. 

It was the only clear thought he had as his eyes adjusted to your presence. Your eyes were glassy from the alcohol even though you were trying to make it seem like you were sober, he guessed. But Zoro could tell you were tipsy with the way you swayed along with each push of the ocean’s wave against the ship. 

He and Nami were going to have a talk about dressing you next time. Every part of you felt exposed to him and yet, it wasn’t enough. It was all just a game, teasing him constantly no matter what angle he looked at it. What was even worse was how the moon highlighted you in light and half in shadow. 

“I say you are and we both know I’m usually right.”

A sly smile slid across his lips before he could stop it. His eyes transfixed while you took the finishing steps until you stood before him. With your arms back down at your side you felt more open to him, vulnerable somehow. It was the look in your eyes that told him why. 

Maybe he wasn’t just imagining it too but what did it prove? You were both idiots on a sinking ship. Looking up at you now, the way you shamelessly devoured every inch the moonlight provided your eyes he knew you’d both happily drown. 

“Is that so?”

“It’s the new unwritten rule on the ship.”

“Guess I’m going to have to have a talk with Luffy about that.”

“He’s still in the kitchen finishing up dishes if you want to be a good first mate and help him.”

“I should go help him.”

“The waiters in there with him, though.” 

“He doesn’t need my help that bad.” 

Zoro wasn’t sure what it was that made your head fall back the way it did. What it was that caused you to laugh the way you did with your hand covering your mouth as if it was enough to silence it. He didn’t know what he did, but he swore he would do it again just to see you like this. 

“Is that why you are hiding out on the ship? Afraid of some competition?”

You went to sit down next to him and his hand reached out to grab you by your hip to stop you. It was meant to be a gesture to get you to stop. Instead, his hand slid under the fabric of the corset and he could hear the audible sharp whistle as you sucked in a breath. He wondered if you would let him keep it there, if you’d let him pull you closer until you were perfectly positioned between his legs.

As fast as his hand and touched you it retreated and it was his turn to stand. 

“Let’s cut the chit chat. I have something better in mind.

“You seriously think now is a good time to train?”

You couldn’t believe it. Your brain was still a mess from seconds ago when his hand somehow found its way under your clothes. The way he’d looked up at you, you half expected him to pull you closer. The hunger that flashed in obsidian eyes was enough to make you think you were about to find out just how plush his lips might actually be. 

As fast as it happened it ended and the disappointment was raw in your chest. Zoro, on the other hand, looked right at home. 

“Why not? Did you have something else in mind?”

Yes. 

“No,” you grumbled. 

You were most definitely not pouting.

“Good. First, you have to fix your stance.” 

“Okay, how should I be-“

A scream of shock left you as you nearly jumped out of your skin. You turned just in time to see him slide the handle of a sword back inside the sheath. The same one that he’d used mere seconds ago to smack against your bare thigh. 

“Did you just spank me with your sword?”

God, he looked too pleased with himself. 

“I could do it again, if you like.” 

You could feel your mouth opening and closing. You didn’t know what to say. Yes, please do? That felt too desperate and yelling at him would do nothing but prove you did like it in some weird way. 

Shit. Your cheeks were burning. 

“How about we just direct me, verbally, like a normal sensei would do.” 

“You could also call me master, instead of sensei, if you like.” 

Zoro had stepped close to you - close enough if you leaned back just an inch you would be against him. His words were dripped heavily with teasing, but the way the husk of his tone whispered along your skin like a caress threatened to make your knees buckle. 

This was supposed to be training for god sake. Clearing your throat, you dared to lean your head back just enough it rested on his chest. Your eyes batting up at him as you replied, “Or I can just call you an asshole.”  

A heavy sigh blew through his nose as he stepped away from you, almost sending you falling on your ass. 

“Do you even have a weapon?” 

“There are pots in the kitchen,” you deadpanned. 

Zoro looked at you like he would throw you over the side of the ship at any minute. 

“I mean a real weapon.”

“My knife is in my satchel.”

You both stood there staring at one another. You weren’t sure what he was expecting you to do. If you were just magically supposed to make your satchel appear or leave to go get it. Zoro wasn’t saying much. He was just standing there one hand on his sword and a thumb tucked into his sash. 

“Are you going to keep staring at me all night or are you going to go get it?” 

Whatever tension that had been brimming between you, unspoken words, or anything else was instantly gone. All of it exploded by his usual rigid posture and dead-eye stare that only moments ago made you believe that maybe, just maybe, your drunken mind wasn’t as delusional as you thought. 

“When I come back you better be ready to get your ass kicked,” you seethed. 

You went to turn on your booted heel when a strong wave rocked the ship and almost sent you toppling forward. You’d braced yourself for impact; your knees colliding once again with the wood or possible scraps to your hands and bare legs. 

Instead, your back collided with a warm body with a forearm locked around your middle keeping you impossibly tight against them. The scent of sandalwood and skin melded together flooding your scenes until your brain was in overload. 

You looked back and found his face mere inches from yours. So close you could feel the heat of his breath along your jaw tempting you to close those last few inches. For a brief moment you thought you’d unlocked some new form of drunken bravery inside of you, but all of it came crashing down when Zoro let go and stepped away. 

“Maybe I should walk back with you. You don’t seem like you’re able to walk.” 

“Okay.”

You didn’t know what else to say. Should you tell him to come close again? Should you tell him that while he was equally the most infuriating human on the planet you somehow couldn’t imagine a space where he wasn’t in it?

How could knowing someone for only a short while turn into…this. 

You knew you wouldn’t say any of it. Not even enough liquor in the world could get you to tell Roronoa Zoro, The Demon, that you had a crush on him just as deadly as he was. 

So, you turned on your heel and headed back towards the giant mouth of the fish. The steady sounds of Zoro’s heavy footsteps right behind you until you finally made it back into the bar. You’d only gotten a few steps to the table when you realized something was wrong. A man in a trench coat and large hat with a feather was standing in front of Nami and Usopp. They didn’t appear frightened but…why was he there?

“Oh, hey guys! This is my new best friend-“ Usopp stated. 

Nami softly smacked him on his chest as she cut in, “This is not our friend.” 

The man in question turned to stare at Zoro and you. His eyes sunflower yellow with swirls like a bullseye within making you almost take a step back from him. You bummed back into Zoro and this time when you looked at him he no longer looked unreadable. He was looking at this man like he was a godsend - a dream come true in the form of curled mustaches and oversized feathers. 

“You’re Dracule Mihawk.” 

“I have business with your captain. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll hand him over.”

“Well, we don’t know anyone named Luffy, do we guys? Zoro?” 

You’d been so enamored by Mihawk’s  appearance you hadn’t realized Zoro had moved around you. His eyes still fastened to him as he moved around to face him. 

“I’ve been following your career since I was a child. It’s an honor to finally meet you, sir.”

“Thank you.” 

Mihawk looked bored out of his skull. 

“Which is why it pains me to inform you that tomorrow you’re going to die.”

“Wait, what?”

“What the actual fuck…” 

Your words came out as an uttered whisper. You were too shell shocked to say more - do more. It felt like you were watching this whole interaction through the lense of a telescope on a distant island where idiots roamed free. 

“I, Roronoa Zoro, challenge you to a duel to the death.”

“What the actual fuck! Zoro!”

This time you were loud. Much louder than you wanted with every syllable ringing out your panic like a dinner bell. 

“I’ve never heard of you.” 

“They call me the Demon Pirate Hunter. But my lifelong dream is to best you in single combat and become the greatest swordsman in the world.” 

“You’re serious.”

“Accept my challenge and I’ll show you how serious I am.”

“Very well. Tomorrow at dawn and when I’m done with you Pirate Hunter I’ll take your captain.” 

No. No. No - “No.”

Your head was still ringing out with the word. Unable to comprehend what in the actual hell had just happened. You’d come back to get your small cutting knife. He was supposed to be training you right now back on the deck of the Merry. This was wrong. All wrong. 

Nami leaned forward from her seat. Her own worry was bleeding into her eyes, her voice, as she asked, “What in the hell did you just do?”

You were still trying to figure that out when Zoro turned and walked away leaving dread the size of a crater to worm its way inside your chest. 

As always, thank you all so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

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[creamyavocadosoup]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞

a/n: lowercase intended! been in an anime binge lately and am currently watching horimiya. its great honestly, it makes me feel so mushy bc me when !! but also i can kinda relate. sorry this wasnt proofread! if there are any mistakes lmk ;-;

characters: rtte!hiccup x fem!reader

tags: kinda angsty, unrequited (?) pining, intimate touches and moment (nothing nsfw)

word count: 1.5k

if you missed it, here's part one: can i be her?

the road to recovery was slow, and the mending of hiccup and i's relationship even slower. although i had forgiven him, there was an undeniable shift in how i acted towards him, whether it was intentional or not.

i had felt guilty about it, of course, but i couldn't force myself to go back to the way things were and pretend nothing had happened. even more so when i could tell that hiccup and the other riders picked up on it too.

after that incident however, something else had also changed. as subtle as it was (or tried to be), hiccup had begun doing things out of his own volition. small things like the soil in my garden being damp when i wake up, my medicine cabinets tidied and arranged how i liked it after a nap, or even my hut being spick and span, a still-hot plate of food awaiting me on my bedside table when i wake up.

it was strange to be on the receiving end of such actions. i had gotten used to helping the riders more than i had received it in return. so having hiccup do so much for me just because, induced emotions in me that i'm still quite unsure in how to handle.

today was spent patching up the riders after a grueling training session and a few accidents (mostly snotlout) and we make conversation as they tell me the new things they've discovered when they went adventuring a few days ago.

my huge cut had - thankfully - been steadily healing, the riders taking turns in making sure i wasn't doing tasks i wasn't supposed to. a few weeks since the incident and i could finally start walking around my hut with much, much caution.

taking this opportune moment of reprieve, i'm currently sat at my front porch, admiring the view of the sea and horizon off in the distance. i sipped quietly on my drink while wrapped in a blanket, the birds chirping and soft swaying of the trees my only company.

...that is until strong gusts of wind caused by a familiar midnight black dragon landed on my front yard, along with his ever-familiar rider in tow.

"[name]! i come bearing new entries to my journal, along with snacks of course."

right. ever since my injury, hiccup had made it some sort of tradition to come and talk to me about things he discovered while out on adventures or simply reading up and researching on subjects he thinks would interest me.

he reasoned it as him hoping i wouldn't feel too lonely even though the other riders visiting routinely (which i soon figured out was coordinated by hiccup thanks to a slip of the tongue from tuffnut) had given me plenty of company since then.

hiccup took his seat beside me on the porch swing, making himself comfortable. offering the other half of my blanket and he takes it with a smile, scooting closer to me.

initially, i seemingly wasn't quite receptive of this tradition he had started; lack of responses, barely any indication that i was interested in whatever he was talking about. but the dragon rider hadn't exactly let it affect him whatsoever. he continued coming regularly, and talking enough for the both of us.

"hiccup." i spoke, softly and quite mellow, but it had stopped his rant completely as he turned to look at me.

i raised my head to look back at him, my eyes slowly dragging over his features. sweat beaded faintly across his brows as he also searched my face of any indication of emotion. he gulped, the action quite apparent, "yes?"

"are you doing all this because you feel guilty?" i questioned, my voice devoid of any accusatory tone, yet it made him flinch slightly in his seat. "if you are, then you shouldn't be, because i already forgive you."

he pursed his lips and brows furrowed as he continued to keep his eyes on me, clearly displeased despite my words. i felt a warmth slowly settle on my hand, looking down to find his hand grabbing onto mine.

my heart beat quickened, a soft yet steady heat creeping up onto my cheeks. for a moment, it had felt like we were suspended in time, the universe letting us have this moment that we've needed.

"even if you have forgiven me," he paused, his body turning to me and gripping my hand tighter, "i can't." he whispered, a soft tremble in his voice as i watched his eyes gloss over.

"i'm sorry. i'm so sorry." he almost weeps, his voice crackly and tears turning his eyes glossy. "i shouldn't have talked to you like that. been so - so caught up in my emotion that i just had zero regard for how you were feeling to how i was saying it." his voice shakes slightly, and my heart crumpled at the emotion.

gently setting aside my drink, i reached to hold his hands with both of mine, softly rubbing my thumb along the natural contours of the back of it. my throat felt tight, that same burning feeling in my eyes coming back, but i steeled myself and my voice to be able to say what i needed to.

"hiccup.. i understand, i really do." my voice had felt so fragile, like glass, about to break if more pressure is applied to it. "in the time i've spent by myself these past few weeks, i've come to a certain understanding and acceptance to the situation. and it's okay," i squeezed his hands, "i'm okay."

he subtly shakes his head no, one of his hands breaking free from mine and drifting to my wounded abdomen, past the hem and underneath my shirt. hiccup was quiet but his touch spoke more than his words tried to convey. my breath hitched at the action as he continued with his ministrations, yet his expression more spaced-out. i'm not sure what it was exactly, but i could tell he was heavily contemplating something in his head.

despite the gauze barrier, i could feel the heat of him emanating through it. it allowed that familiar warmth to bloom in my chest once again, the same warmth that only he seems to be the cause of. it had felt entirely too intimate to consider it as something friends do which only raised so many more questions and confusion in my head.

this wasn't normal for friends, right? is this something he normally does with the others?

i gulped down the lump in my throat, the thought of him doing the same thing to a certain blonde-haired viking setting an uncomfortable feeling in my gut.

before i could voice out any of my thoughts however, my eyes widened and cheeks warmed considerably once i felt his touch travel to my cheek. it was soft, almost feather-like, and comforting. his eyes glowed beautifully, the orange sunset reflecting onto his green eyes, effectively enchanting me with how beautiful it looked.

he kept his eyes on me, seemingly waiting on a sign on how i felt about the current predicament. seeing no protests from me, he continued on, now essentially cupping my face with both of his hands, his piercing eyes never leaving my face, flitting between my eyes and lips.

"hiccup..."

"hiccup!" a familiar voice cut through the silence and the trees, dispelling the intimate moment in an instant. i hurriedly moved away from his clutches, picking up my forgotten drink, as hiccup nervously fixes his hair and clothes.

astrid appears on the path in front of my hut, lax features and usual demeanor indicating that she didn't see whatever just happened between hiccup and i. "there you are. figured you would be here." she spoke, walking closer towards my porch.

hiccup laughed, notably a little more breathless than when he normally is, yet astrid doesn't bat an eye or pick up on it. admittedly, i spaced out as she rambled on, the scene before still playing over and over in my head.

hiccup's soft touches was still practically branded onto my skin, with how i could still feel the heat of his touch despite him being on the other side of the seat we were on. his actions had only made me more confused, swirling thoughts trying to reason why he did what he did yet none of them made sense.

what was that? was he...

i shook away the thoughts as i come back to consciousness back in time. "[name], i hope you don't mind that i'll be taking this guy with me for a little bit. i need his help on a few things regarding training." she spoke.

i nodded, plastering a small smile on my face but i turn to look at hiccup, silently torn on wanting him to go or letting him leave. his gaze was on me, searching my face but perhaps my features weren't translating my desire well, because he turns to astrid and smiles, "we can go, we were just finishing up anyways."

my heart cracks just a tiny bit, that same feeling that i felt a few weeks ago leaking through the cracks of my resolve little by little. but i force the smile back on my face, standing up to bring my drink back inside, the atmosphere now leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

they gather their things and leave side-by-side, and i also turn and huddle back into my hut, missing the longing look hiccup held to my disappearing figure.

DO NOT REPOST MY CONTENT ANYWHERE! i would love to hear any and all thoughts. mwah! have a great day!

quick access to my library.

[wonijinjin]

escapsim

author’s note: this is quite a sensitive topic and i am not entirely sure if i could convey the message of a situation like this, but i hope it turned out to be comforting for the ones who go through this, you are not alone.

synopsis: finding the escape from the grey everydays in the form of joshua hong.

word count: 0.7k | genre: hurt/comfort, a bit angsty | pairing: joshua x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of family issues (nothing graphic), bad mental health

it was one of those days again. when the arguments seemed never-ending, when you couldn’t focus on anything else, but the events happening in the morning; it wasn’t a pretty scene that was certain. you had spent every minute of your time putting up with your parents, trying to survive yet another day. you had one main goal today in this never ending evil circle; to have a sleepover with your boyfriend later after your usual date. he was your exit, your escape from this nightmare of a family others would never wish upon their worst enemies, he kept you going. you loved him more than anything, you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

“earth to you? hello?” joshua’s voice echoed in your ears when you looked up from your haze. “did you see something in your drink? you were staring at it like it was some kind of monster.” he chuckled, his eye smile making an appearance along with his wide smile. you were at the local coffee shop, sipping on some delicious bevareges. “sorry, i just got distracted shua.” you shyly admitted, your pout and bad mood evident to literally anyone looking at you. “what’s up darling? you seem to be a bit deflated today. like a balloon which got popped.” he noted, making a pointing gesture in the air with sound effects to prove his point. you stayed silent, a few stray tears welling up in your eyes. you didn’t like crying in front of him; you didn’t like to always remind him of the burden you carried along with you from your household. “awww baby, please don’t cry!” he cooed while standing up from his end of the table and coming over to hug your frame. “tell your sweet boyfriend what is the problem. i am sure whatever it is we can solve it.” he pleaded while patting your head rhythmically. “my parents fought again in the morning.” you sigh, feeling a big stone come off your chest with the words; it was great to be able to speak up about it. “oh baby, i am sorry.” he cradled your head in his arms. “i know things have been a bit chaotic and rough nowadays, i can see it taking a toll on you.” he whispered into your hair. “i am fine, really, it just gets tiring with time.” you reassured him, but he knew how much it hurt you on the inside. he never wanted you to lose your cheerful side, so he did his absolute best to help you in every way possible. “you know what? let’s spend the rest of the afternoon at my place darling.” he offered with a gentle hand reaching out for yours.

“i love you so much.” you confessed to joshua while making a cup of tea in his kitchen. “i love you too sweetheart. till the day this planet exists, i will always be here for you." he threw you a kiss from beside the counter, smirking mischievously. "do you want sugar or honey in the tea?” he asked while opening the cupboards and searching for the mentioned ingredients. “i think i will stick with honey.” you winked “pun intended.” his eyes lit up from laughing and he trapped you in his embrace in a swift motion; a bear hug for sadness. “good to see that your humour is still the same.” you looked at him fondly, kissing his cheek. "you always make me feel at ease, you know.” he poured out the remaining tea and grabbed your hand, initiating for you to move to the living room. "let go of every ounce of stress you have darling. you can always be yourself with me, and you can always tell me everything.” he made you lay down on the couch while he reached forward for a big blanket to cover the two of you after settling down himself. "which movie do you want to watch today?" he questioned while pulling you into his side. you only grinned at him, not saying anything. "don't tell me you want to watch what i think you want to..." he sighed; he knew your favourite comfort movie and how much you loved it, but for him it was getting a bit much. "you know exactly that i in fact want to watch that, shua!" you giggled upon seeing his distressed face. you appreciated him for not getting tired of the movie (or at least not saying that he was bored of it); he was the sweetest (as always) when you were feeling down. "fine, since you are in need of something happy i will agree on this for you darling." he smiled and grabbed the remote, putting the film on the tv immediately. “but next time i choose! deal?” he questioned playfully. “deal.” in moments like these, when he made you forget about your everyday worries, these were the times when you really realised how grateful you are for his presence in your life. you couldn't have wished for anybody else, but him as the escape from this cruel world.

[sterredem]

Unfair

Ending 2

The request Hey, I can't find if your requests are open (if they aren't please ignore this). Can you do an arthur leclerc x fem!driver!reader where she gets into f1 and he doesn't (angst!!) and she comforts him?

Face claim: Pinterest girls/Barbara Palvin/Bianca Bustamante + other women in motorsport.

(That I use these people doesn’t mean that I know or support them, I just use them because Barbara has a lot of good pictures in the spoor and Bianca has good pictures in the car and on the podium)

Summary: The request

Warning: Angst, lying(?), happy ending, Car crash, fluff at the end, speling mistakes

Not proofread

A/N So this is the 2nd ending! Sorry it took so long but I had it really busy and no inspiration. I had intended on it being more Angsty than it is but I really wanted to get it out of my drafts because I am working on something big that needs my full attention from the writing process and perspective

They both knew that this could happen. That was the risk with dating your coworker in a motorsport. And especially formula 2.

So when y/n that next season she would drive in formula 1 with Porsche, she was really excited. Of course she was. She was going to be the first Women in a few decades to drive in Formula 1. And for a relatively new but very good team. With Porsche being in F1 since the 2019 seasons it was the newest, but unlike HAAS they were actually good.

And she was happy that she got a contract. She would drive a few of the best names of motorstoprt. And her team printable, Sebastian Vettel had promised her big things.

But when she actually thought about what this all meant she beging to get scared. She would need to tell Arthur. Arthur who always wanted to be in Formula 1. Arthur who is her best friend and her boyfriend.

How could she tell him? How could she tell him that she would get to live there dream? How could she tell him that he would drive alongside his brother before him?

This was all a mess. And the worst part was that she sined a NDA so she couldn't tell him until the announcement was up. The only people that currently knew where; her family, her trainer and her assistant.

She tried to do everything she could so she can tell him. But she just couldn't, so she needs to live with a big secret for a few months. And when it is announced that she would go to Formula 1 she doesn't know is he will ever forgive her.

And not only because she didn't tell him and they promised they would tell each other everything. No but because they promised to get there together, to both get into F1. And now, Y/n would get to drive there and Arthur would be left behind in F2.

So she would need to live a secret until it was revealed to the world. The only thing she could get out of the contact is that she could tell Arthur a day before the announcement. Which she still wasn't happy about but it was something. So when the time came to finally tell him she was a nervous wreck. Understandable.

The day before the announcement finally came. And Y/n was really nervous. So when Arthur finally came home she made some of his favourite food and got mentally ready to tell him.

And to say Arthur was confused was an understatement. He came home to his girls friend cooking his favourite food and looking very nervous. So of course he was worried. Would she brake up with him? Dis something happen? But he wanted to wait for her to say something. And that happens after they were done doing the dishes and were laying in the couch.

"Hey Arthur can we talk?” Y/n nervously while playing with her fingers and not really looking at Arthur.

"Yes mon ange what is wrong?” Arthur asked relieved that she will finally talk about what is wrong. He tried to look at her but couldn't lock eyes.

"Promise me you will hear me out before you react of get mad.” She said while finally looking in his eyes. But they aren't filled with the usual adoration or love, no the where filled with nerves and a bit of fear.

"Of course mon ange. What is going on?" He asked growing more and more worried. While trying to grapple with his hand. And failing.

"So you know that PREMA is dropping me right? Well when it was announced some people reached out to me and offers me something...” she slowly said while looking at him for his reaction.

"Well one of those people was Sebastian Vettel and he offered me a place on Porche in Formula 1. And as you can understand I couldn't refuse, so we got talking and they gave me an amazing offer.” She said while looking at his reaction. Which wasn't the best, it got from worry to confusion to some sort of mild anger.

"So last August he gave me a contract and I signed it..." she said falling a bit silent at the end. And before Arthur could talk she began again.

"And I really wanted to tell you before, really. But they made me sign a NDA and I could only tell my menager and close family and some of the other team for legal reasons. And I tried everything, and initially I could not tell you until the announcement but I made a deal and I could tell you the day before. And now that is, so today is the day before. And again I am so sorry. Please don't be mad.” She rantec while tears formed in his eyes while seeing him become more and more mad.

"Y/n... what? Is this some sick joke?" He asked while slowly fake laughing and looking at her with betrayal in his eyes.

"Baby please understand that I could not tell you." She said slowly looking away.

"Don't baby me! I know you couldn't tell me after the contract, but you could tell me that you had an offer! And how could you take it? You know how much I want to get into F 1P^ prime prime He asked with betrayal in his voice.

"What was I supposed to do? Not take the offer and never get in Formula 1 just so you could have it or that we could go at the same time? And I could not tell you about the offer because I didn't even know until I talked with Sebastian, my manager hid it from me because he didn't want to get my hopes up!" She said now with tears going down her cheeks.

"I understand that but please! Did you even think about me?" He asked a bit louder.

"Of course I did! I just told you! I wanted to tell you the minute I got the offer! But I couldn't because of that stupid team! I wanted to you to have a seat for F1! For whatever team, but I can't! If I can I would give you my seat! But Arthur you need to understand that I need to think of myself sometimes! This a big deal for me! I will be the first women in Formula 1 in a few decades, and I will be the first women to be in the Mindel or upper field! I could be the first to be in a podium of even win!" She said now almost fully crying.

Arthur was silent for a bit while thinking about what she said. "Y/n i know all that. But you also need to understand that it is hard for me. Charles is in F1, Ferrarie dropped me, Jules and my dad died and wanted me and Charlie to drive, and now my girlfriend, who is also my childhood best friend, lied to me for months and you expect me to be okay with it? Merde Y/n you can't expect this from me. I think I need some time alone.” He said trying to stay calm with tears in his eyes.

Y/n looked at his shocked about what he said. Did he want to break up? Did he want a part time break? Was he going to leave? She knows that she can't hold him accountable for it, she did lie to him after all.

"Arthur please. I understand what you say. And I don't hold you accountable for that, but please don't leave." She said now with them both full on crying.

"Mon amour, I won't leave you, I am just going to go to my mom for a bit. Think about everything and then we can talk about this in a few days." He said while wiping her tears away.

He slowly stood up and walked to there room to grab a few of his things. She still sat on the couch thinking if she should stop him or just let him go.

She decided on the later one, because it was better to give him time to think about it before things were said that they don't mean.

A few minutes later Arthur came downstairs with a bag of his stuff. He grabbed his coat and keys and looked at Y/n again. “I will message you when I am there. Please understand that I still love you and I am not breaking up, but I just need some time.” He says with a half smile.

“I understand, please take all the time you need. And when you are ready to talk I am here.” She said while also half smiling with more tears forming in her eyes. “I love you, please be safe"

"I will" he says while walking out of the door and closing it. Y/n slowly slid down the wall with her head in her hands thinking everything over again.

Was this the right thing? Was she selfish for accepting the offer? Would she lose Arthur? Were they ever going to recover?

With all this on het mind she slowly stood up and walked upstairs. She got into the bathroom and did her night routine. After that she looked at the time and saw how early it still was so she decided to just watch some Gilmore Girls (you can chose whatever this is just my comfort series) while laying in bed trying to distract her from the argument they had earlier.

After watching it for a few hours she decided that it was getting late and decided to sleep and see what the day would bring tomorrow. The day that it would be announced.

Liked by Susie_Wolff and 3.115.785 others

F1 BREAKING: Y/n y/l/n will be driving for Porsche the 2025 season!

We all welcome her to the grid and are excited to se her!

#y/n_y/l/n #Porsche #F1 @Y/n_y/l/n @Porsche

Comments

User1 OMG I AM SO EXITED

User2 Why is Arthur not liking??!

Susie_Wolff So happy for you! I am happy to see more girls in Formula 1

Yourusername Thank you Susie! Exited to see you again!

Yourusername I am so happy and thankful for this opportunity!

User3 we got a women in f1 before gta 6

User4 So exited for more women in motorsports!

User5 women shouldn't be in motorsports! It is a man dominated sport for a reason!

User6 why is Arthur not simping over his girlfriend like usual?!

User7 he could just be congratulating het irl don’t make a big deal out of this

User8 I agree with user7, just because he isn’t in the comments on a insta post doesn’t mean something happened. We shouldn’t speculate on there lives with absolutely no information about them at the moment.

After the announcement was finally up Y/n felt worst then the slash before. Her and Arthur still hadn’t talked. And it welt like weeks (it was only 10 hours). She missed him, missed his laugh, his boyish smile, their useless conversation for hours, his kisses and hugs. Everything.

So when she finally got a massage from him she was happy to say the least.

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For the next part there is a bit of explaining necessary. You can: keep reading this and then you read the really Angsty ending OR you can klick on the link and then you can read the official ending (more fluffy and the request)

Fluffy ending

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The next day Y/n decided to take her car to the café, it would be easier and faster. Turns out it was neither. She put some acceptable clothes on and a bit of make up to hide her tiredness and puffy eyes. She grabbed her phone and coat and walked to her car.

After pulling out of the drive way she put on some music to fill the silence. When she got out of the neighbourhood and onto the main road she got distracted by a few kids running before the car and before she knew it she felt a blow coming from her lest side.

She couldn’t open her eyes and she heard a loud ringing in het ear. When she could finally manage to open an eye a bit she saw a lot of glass, a lot of blood and a wrecked car. She heard people screaming and asking things but she couldn’t make anything out above the loud ringing noise. A bit later she heard sirens.

She was scared. She wanted to go home. To go to Arthur. She wanted to get out, but she couldn’t. She could feel her legs- and her arm? What was happening? Where was she? What happens? Why couldn’t she feel anything? She begin to see dark spots and was getting really tired. When she begin to close her eyes she could feel a bit of the pressure on her body leave her. She could see the sun, she would be fine. She would see Arthur. But then it all went black.

Arthur was concerned. He didn’t know where Y/n was. Was he being stood up? Did she not want to come? What is happening?

When he arrived at the café a few minutes late he expected her to be there, waiting on him. But no, she was nowhere to be seen.

But then it happened. He got the phone call…

The hospital…

He picked up, and he was stressed. He didn’t know for who it could be. It could be for Y/n or his mom. With both of them having him as one of the emergency contacts.

So when he picks up and hear them asking about Y/n he panicked.

He quickly gets filled in on what happened and gets informed from where she is. So he gets to his car and goes to the hospital as fast as he can.

Beep… beep… beep…

That all that is heard in the hospital room when Y/n wakes up. She looks around with tired eyes from sleeping- or being unconscious- for so long.

When she tries to move her hand she can’t… but then she looks over and sees Arthur… oh Arthur. He must have been so worried, with her not showing up at the caffe and all.

But then she sees he wakes up. He must have felt her move (or tried to) her hand. When he looked up and saw her awake he immediately sat up straight and began asking questions.

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Do you need something?” He rambled on.

“What happened?” She asked in a raspy voice. She looked around more and tried to sit up. But that hurt… a lot.

“Hey, no no no. Sit down mon amour. I will get a doctor to explain what happened.” So he stood up and got to go find a doctor or nurse.

After the doctor comings and explaining everything she was a bit more calm. After the doctor text a few more minutes past of Arthur and Y/n sitting in silence. But that also didn’t last very long.

“I am so sorry for how I reacted yesterday.” Arthur said while grabbing her hand.

“Hey, no it’s okay. I understand. I forgive you. Can you just lay with me? I don’t want to think for a bit.” She said.

He nodded and laid beside her on the hospital bed.

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[izfrogzy]

Soft and Innocent Part II 18+ Aemond x Sister Reader(OC.)

Warnings: 18+ content eventually, this part is a bit angsty and a lot of pinning and longing, a bit sexism and such as what is expected of a woman and girl of the time period and world like Westeros and there's mentions of foot fetish (Due to Larys mention.)

A/N: .Mostly soft fluffy and angst at this part, for the most part a bit Angsty and such lots of hugging and seeking comfort from the Broody Brother. New to writing these sort of things for readers to read I am down for good criticism I try my best and never intend to offend or upset anyone with my writing with that being said enjoy...sorry for any bad grammar and punctuation :) I do apologize for any inaccuracies for certain characters just think of it as AUs scenarios.

Aemond was returning from the training yard. Sweat and dirt covered his clothing. His hair was sticking to his face with sweat and sweat also glistened off his skin. The only thing he wanted to do was have a bath and rest. He let out a tired huff. But as he walked past his sister's room. He heard crying which seemed to peak his curiosity. He raised his head and began to walk towards her room which his walking turned into a sprint.

Seanna glared as Alicent, Their mother, sighed trying to appease upset Seanna. “It is your duty Seanna to marry." Alicent said and Seanna sobbed and threw things at her mother. “But it had to be him of all people!” She cried out and sobbed.

Seanna inhales and exhales glaring at Alicent, though the queen, She was more then willing to defy her mother, Aemond entered the room upon the middle of this argument between his mother and little sister.

“I don’t want to marry him, he's old and he walks funny and he’s he’s.” Sobbed Seanna 

His gaze went to his sister as he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side. His expression went from cold and hard to a slightly concerned and sympathetic one as he saw her in tears. He knew how she felt. Having to be married off to someone who she does not like. It wasn't fair to her. She didn't deserve that. Aemond's expression darkened slightly as he turned his head back to his mother. Who seemed so uncaring and cold to her own daughter.

“Larys Strong is the Lord of Harrenhal and he has acquired a mass fortune after his….” Alicent tries to make the situation sound better but Seanna speaks up. “You think I care about any of that Mother?!” She sobbed and sat up scowling at Her mother, Queen Alicent.

Aemond's hand tightly clenched into a fist at his side when he heard the name of the man who he sister was betrothed to. His whole body tensed....a wave of anger, sympathy and protectiveness filled his entire being. Larys Strong was not a good man. He was a perverted old man who only cared about wealth and power. Not love or family. Which made Aemond's expression darkened even more and his jaw clenched at the thought of the pervert being near his little sister.

Seanna says more to her mother trying to reason with her, “Plus I heard he has a foot thing mother would you really subject me to such a man and how he acquired his inheritance is no secret either…Hells I'd rather marry some Greyjoy or Bolton then the likes of that decrepit man.” Seanna said frustratedly from the top of bed clearly very worked up by the whole situation.

The thought of her being married off to a Greyjoy or a Bolton did not ease Aemond's darkening anger. It still would not be a happy ending. But it was slightly better than Larys Strong. Aemond's jaw clenched again at the word foot. Knowing what his little sister meant by that....it made his stomach do twists and turns in anger that his sister had to be tied to such a man. He was a pervert and a murderer.

Alicent sighs. “It has already been arranged." She said and Seanna started sobbing. “No! I won’t marry that man, Mother! I won’t!” Seanna wailed and threw her last pillow at her mother.

Aemond's hands slowly curled into a tight fist as more anger filled his being. The way his so-called loving mother was making his sister cry and treating her like she was some commodity to trade. He gritted his teeth and then grumbled out. “Isn’t there a better match mother ...or can't such a match be held off for a while? mother?” Aemond's tone hardened at his mother which made her turn her head to look at him..

“Aemond, you know we all must do our duty and it is about time your little sister did her part for this family….as you know alliances have to be made in case…” Alicent said to him and she looked at Seanna. “You will grow accustomed to Lord Strong ... .children become the greatest comfort.” She said trying to assure Seanna who shook her head and sobbed. “Is that all I am mother?” Seanna said and hopped off the bed and stormed up to Alicent. “Like my Beloved sister Helaena I too must be one of your broodmares to offer up to the highest bidder?” She said angrily in tears and Alicent's eyes widened and grabbed her daughter. “Enough of your childish tantrum Seanna! You will marry Lord Strong and that is final!” She snapped and Seanna sobs and yanks herself away pushing Alicent out of her way and storms past Aemond without a second glance, as she runs out of her bedchambers in tears and Alicent sighs and looks at Aemond. “Duty always requires sacrifice Aemond even you know that.” She said in a serious tone to her beloved son and she sighed “It’s about time Seanna learns as well.” Alicent said a bit coldly trying to be stoic in this decision.

Aemond's jaw tensed as he began gritting his teeth once more. The anger burned furiously in his body as he listened to his mother speak in such a cold and uncaring manner. He watched as his sister tried to argue and cry only to be treated like a child by their mother. He saw the push and he watched her run out of the room crying. He let out a slow and harsh breath through his nose to stop himself from screaming at his mother's seemingly cruel decision.

“I understand the demands of duty, Mother.” Aemond said with gritted teeth as he crossed his arms. His gaze was hard and cold as he stared at his mother. “However you don't seem to understand the concept of love and care.” Aemond said in an accusing tone as he continued to look at his cold hearted mother. “My sister is still a young lady who has her whole life ahead of her. And you treat her like a pig to be sent to slaughter.” Aemond said as his jaw tightened more.

“Aemond…..Larys Strong is lord of the Strongest fortress in the Seven Kingdoms ... ..as you know. plans are being made in case your father dies and we must solidify our household…..in case.” She said approaching him. “I don’t like it anymore than you do but Marrying her off is for the greater good….to strengthen the crown and house Targaryen.” Alicent said in a lowered tone of voice.

“I know all of that.” Aemond said, slightly agitated as he let out a slow breath through his nose. “But why him?” He asked in a hard and cold tone. “Why must you marry her off to such a creature as that. Why can she not marry someone else? Someone who would love and care for her. Why, someone like him?” He questioned as his jaw clenched and he began gritting his teeth again.

“You Mean Someone like you?” Alicent asked outright as if she knew what he tried so hard to keep hidden. “Aegon and Helaena are already wedded we must form alliances not just keep our bloodline to ourselves Aemond….I see how you feel obligated to her….how you wish to keep her safe….I am no fool at what I see…..But….Duty comes first Aemond.” Alicent said calmly and she placed her hand on his shoulder as if to give him assurance.

Aemond's jaw clenched further and his breathing became much more labored as he stared at his mother. How was she so good at reading him? He was always good at hiding his emotions. But with her it was different. She always managed to figure him out. Aemond stayed quiet...he almost felt as if he had been exposed of his secret feelings.

“If I had it my way it would have been you and her who were married instead of Aegon and Helaena but it was not Aemond.” Alicent said to her son.

Aemond's eyes widened slightly at the sentence his mother had spoken. So she has figured his secret out long before he even realized it himself. He would have been better fit to marry his sister. 

“That would not have pleased father right?” Aemond asked as he looked away from his mother. His expression became cold and stoic

“Your father could care less.” She admitted, looking away. “But for the realm arranging proper and good alliances and marriages for his remaining children is ideal.”

Aemond's face remained cold and stoic but inside he was feeling a mix of different emotions. He understood the concept of duty and loyalty, and why they had to arrange marriages...but the thought of his sister being sent off to such a vile person had his blood boiling. “And this is the best you came up with.” Aemond hissed out as he turned to look at her again. “Larys Strong. That creature…” He said bitterly to his mother, the Queen.

Alicent sighs and averted her eyes and nodded, “He asked for her and I owe him…our family owes him for his loyalty.” She admitted.

Aemond let out a huff and looked away again. He clenched his jaw yet again as the anger filled his body. She not only arranged his sister's marriage to a disgusting man but because the crown owed him. It was almost as if they didn't care about her being sent off to a perverted man who had a foot fetish. In Aemond's mind....it made her seem like she didn't care at all for her daughter.

Alicent approaches Aemond as she knew he was filled with anger at this decision, and she rubbed his shoulder and sighs before speaking, “Larys promised to be kind and gentle with her, that is all I can hope for your sister's future.” Alicent said to Aemond but her son gave her an agitated look. 

Aemond's hands slowly curled into tight fists as he listened. He didn't believe that at all. “And you believe such an empty promise from a lecherous man like him?” Aemond asked as he looked at his mother in anger and disbelief.

Alicent showed some hesitation to answer when he asked and she sighed and swallowed her motherly instincts and spoke “We must for the greater good Aemond.” She said simply looking at her son.

“The greater good?” Aemond's expression was full of anger as he looked at her. What greater good was there for marrying off his sweet sister to such a perverted man. “Why not another Lord? A good man who can give her a happy life. Surely that would be better for the realm than selling her like a pig to be slaughtered?” He asked and Alicent grabbed his arms so he would look at her “It has been final Aemond…..if I was to withdrawal there would be drastic consequences for our family.” Alicent said, trying to convince her son to accept the decisions made.

Aemond's hands clenched even more. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself before speaking again. “If you will not change the betrothal. I will.” Aemond said his voice was hardened and cold. As he walked past his mother and opened the door to step out to where he knew his sister had run off to. Leaving his mother to stew in the room behind him.

Aemond knew exactly where to find his sister. He walked quickly down to the Godswoods. He began to hear sobbing. He followed the sobbing and finally stopped as he found his sister sitting on the ground sobbing. Aemond slowly walked up to her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Hoping to give her some comfort. “Seanna....sister.” Aemond said softly as knelt down and looked at her. “Shhh.”

Seanna looked at him and sniffled. “Oh Aemond I don’t want to do it.” She cried.

Aemond gently wrapped her in his strong arms and gave her a soft warm embrace. “Shhh.....shh...I know sister. I know…” His heart shattered as he saw how distraught and upset she was. He wanted to see her happy and cheerful. Not sobbing on the ground in tears.

“Why does it have to be him?” She sobbed. “How could mother do this to me?” She asked emotionally. 

Aemond continued to hold her in the embrace as he gently patted her back in a soothing manner. Trying not to think about how he would have treated her if they were married nor if he was to have her in his arms. He gently moved one of his arms to the back of her head and gently cradled her.

“I don't know...but....I promise to you. Once the time is right I won't let you be married to such a horrid man. No matter the consequences.” Aemond said his voice was soft yet filled with so much promise and conviction.

Seanna whimpers and clings to him. “I won’t marry him, I don't care what mother says or does to me.” she sobbed nuzzling into his clothed body.

Aemond holds her close as she clings to him. He rested his chin slightly atop her soft hair. He felt a sense of protective affection and love for his sister. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted to see her smile. And he knew there was no way in the seven hells that he would allow her to be married to such a horrible man. “No you won't. I promise you that.” He said as Aemond nuzzled his face into her hair.

Seanna sniffled and turned her face up and looked up at him with her pouty face and tear filled eyes. “You really promise?” She asked gently, her voice trembling.

He looked down at her. Seeing her tear filled eyes and pouty face made him want to kiss her...but no. That was not, be allowed this time. He gently placed a hand on her cheek and softly held it. A small yet warm smile spread across his face as he looked at her. “I promise my little sister. With my whole heart. I will not allow that creature to take you. No matter what.” He said though it sounded more like a vow and oath to her which made her smile slightly though still feeling upset.

 Seanna looked at him with her large eyes and rosy cheeks she sniffled. “Really?” she asked, tearing up again.

Aemond gazed back into her large eyes. He felt an overwhelming sense of love and adoration for her as he gently held her small face tenderly in his hand. He gently rubbed her chubby tear stained pink cheek. “Really. I promise. There is no need to cry or be scared. I will be by your side and I will protect you. You are my little sister. It is my duty to do so.”

She nodded. “I love you Lēkia.” She said Lēkia meaning older brother in Old Valyrian in a soft light innocent voice looking at him with her violet doe eyes.

And I love you, sweet sister. Aemond replied, still looking at those wide eyes of hers which he loved looking at so much. He gently cradled her face in his hand and then gently leaned in and placed a gentle, yet loving kiss on her forehead. The love he had for her was far more than what a brother should feel for his sister.

She clung to him and sighed totally content with her Lēkia.

A/N: Part III is a bit more saucy and will be short but.....the small series will get steamy I promise Also named the OCSister I will do Reader or Y/N eventually but y'all can still imagine yourselves in OCs shoes obviously.

[spectersgirl]

if ur taking requests!! harvey and reader getting into a heated argument and harvey being his usual self takes it too far by saying something he didn’t mean and it ends up real angsty but then they make up somehow cuz i don’t like sad endings lol

if ur not don’t worry abt it :)

I'm always taking requests! I may not do them but I'm always taking them 🤪

Regret

Harvey Specter x Reader

--------

The New York skyline really was beautiful, and maybe you could've appreciated it if you were standing in Harvey's office under different circumstances.

The air crackled with tension as you and Harvey fought, the biggest fight you'd had in your entire relationship.

"You can't just bulldoze your way through everything, Harvey!" your voice cut through the silence, blazing with frustration. "One day you'll realize you need to listen to others instead of assuming you have all the answers, and it'll be too late."

Harvey's features hardened, his gaze unwavering as he spoke coldly. "And sometimes, you need to understand that this is how it works. I've been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you have. You don't get to lecture me on how to handle my cases, if I wanted your opinion I would've asked."

The words, sharper than intended, hung heavy in the air leaving a bitter taste in both your and Harvey's mouths. You tried your best to hide it, but he saw the flicker of hurt that flashed across your face, a mix of betrayal and anguish clouding your expression.

"You know what, Harvey? Maybe you're right. Maybe I shouldn't bother trying to help if you're just going to throw it back in my face," you replied, your voice trembling ever so slightly with restrained emotion.

For a moment, regret crossed Harvey's eyes, but his pride took over once more, replacing the regret with a coldness. "Fine. Maybe it's better this way."

The harshness in his words reverberated, a feeling of finality rippling through the room. You hated this, but there was nothing left for you to say. You stormed out, leaving him with nothing but the click of your heels on the tile floor. The door sealing shut made Harvey sigh, immediate regret over his words hitting him like a wave.

The hours that followed were agonizingly slow, each minute dragging on as Harvey remained seated at his desk, getting nothing done as the weight of his own words bore down on him. His usual confidence faltered as he replayed every word of the argument in his mind, grappling with the realization that his pride had cost him the most important thing he'd ever known. He swirled a glass of whiskey he'd poured absentmindedly.

It wasn't until a soft, hesitant knock broke the silence in his office that Harvey stirred from his thoughts. you stood at the threshold, your shoulders tense and eyes glistening with tears. He saw every emotion you felt plain as day on your face, and his heart lurched.

"Y/N, I didn't mean what I said," Harvey began, but you raised a hand, interrupting him.

"I know you didn't. And neither did I," you admitted, your voice cracking with vulnerability.

A fragile silence loomed, a moment of uncertain energy between you, before Harvey closed the distance, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice laced with genuine remorse. "I'm so, so sorry."

You nodded, hugging him back and resting your head on his chest, the tension evaporating as you both relaxed for the first time that day. "I am too."

Harvey gently pulled away, cupping your face with a tenderness that said everything he didn't know how to. "We make a good team, you and I. I can't lose that."

A small smile formed on your lips, unable to hide the fact that you shared the sentiment. "Me either, Harvey."

With this admission, he gently leaned down to kiss your lips, a longing present there as you kissed back.

[campingwiththecharmings]

Invisible String

AN: This is another one I started back in July of 2022 and am just now finishing! I had intended for it to be cute and kinda funny but it ended up being a little...I don't think angsty is the right word, but it has a little more feels than I'd anticipated lol. I dunno, I like how it turned out. Hope you all do too! ❤️

(Un-beta’d)

You're a new medic in the Resistance and you keep running into a certain pilot in the medbay.

Rated: T Words: 6,019 Pairing: Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Warnings: feelings of loneliness, mutual pining, a little awkwardness (but like the sweet kind not the cringey kind) (i hope lol), references to violence, injuries of varying degrees AO3

——————

The Resistance base on D’Qar was bigger than you’d expected. Then again, most things were bigger than the little outpost you’d called home for the last few years. When you’d heard HQ needed medics, you’d jumped at the chance to leave the backwater moon you’d been stationed on. Now that you’re here, though, you’re wondering if you’d made the right decision. Every day here is somehow more chaotic than the last and, while you feel like you’re adapting pretty well, you’re a little lonely. Sure, you’re friendly with people, especially the other medics, but making friends isn’t exactly at the top of most people’s to-do lists these days. Everyone’s too busy. Too busy to show you around the base, too busy to get a drink with you, too busy to get to know you….

Needless to say, it’s been a rough couple of months.

“Hey,” someone calls, dragging you from your thoughts, “Can I get some help over here, please?”

Two men enter the bustling medbay, one of which seems to be supporting the other. Without a second thought, you rush over, pulling on a pair of gloves as you go.

“What happened?” you ask the man who appears to be uninjured, gesturing him over to a free bed in your section.

“He hit his head,” the man says, nodding toward his friend as he helps him sit on the bed.

"I swear to the Maker that ladder came out of nowhere," the other man mutters, grimacing a little as the gash on his forehead oozes slightly.

You nod, grabbing a clean towel and gently pressing it against the wound. The man hisses, flinching at the pressure.

“Sorry,” you mutter, chewing on your lip as you search your pockets for your work light with your free hand. When you find it, you turn your attention back to the uninjured man. 

“Hold this,” you instruct, indicating the towel on the injured man’s forehead. He does as asked, watching as you tilt his friend’s chin up and briefly shine your light in his eyes.

“What’s that do?” the injured man asks, squinting into the light.

You move it a couple more times before clicking it off and putting it away. “I'm checking you for a head injury.”

“And?” the other man asks, looking a little concerned.

You glance at him, smiling softly as you search the cart beside the bed for a bacta patch. “He’ll be fine.”

“See, Finn? I told you,” the injured man grumbles before pushing himself up from the bed. 

“Whoa,” you say, bracing your hands on his shoulders when he wobbles a little, “Take it easy.”

Your touch pulls his attention to you and he stops, gaze locking with yours. Something in his eyes makes you feel seen, exposed, and your face warms a little.

“Yeah, Poe, take it easy,” Finn scolds as he helps his friend sit back down.

You look away, mentally shaking yourself as you prepare the bacta patch for his head.

“He wasn’t gonna come, you know,” Finn tells you, pointing at his friend. “I had to practically drag him here.”

You briefly glance at the two men and see Poe rolls his eyes. “That’s because I’m fine. Right, Doc?”

“You are fine, yes,” you agree, ignoring the (incorrect) honorific as you gingerly place the patch over the gash in his forehead, “But it doesn’t hurt to make sure.”

Finn makes a noise of agreement and you bite back a smile as you finish applying the bandage.

“Well, you’re all set,” you say, meeting Poe’s eyes with a teasing brow. “Try not to walk into any more ladders.”

Finn snorts, clapping his friend on the back. Poe chuckles, looking sheepish as he briefly glances away from your amused gaze. “I’ll do my best.”

—

You’re bored.

It’s the middle of the night, you’re the only medic on shift, and you’re bored.

You sigh, shifting on your stool then wincing when the muscles in your lower back protest. The metal wheels squeak as you stand and stretch with a groan. It’s been slow tonight, which you guess is a good thing, but it certainly isn’t making your shift go by any quicker.

Just as you’re wondering how you’re going to spend the next few hours, the medbay door slides open. You turn, gazing at a coughing, soot-covered man and a white and orange droid.

“Maker, what happened?” you ask, ushering him over to the closest bed.

“Engine fire,” he explains between coughing fits.

You nod, quickly grabbing a breath mask from the cabinet and racing back over to him.

“Here,” you say, helping him fit the mask over his mouth and nose.

He nods in thanks as another coughing fit causes his dark curls to fall into his eyes.

“Deep, slow breaths, okay?” you instruct softly, a soothing hand on his shoulder.

He nods again, coughs subsiding a little as his breathing steadies. You study him in silence for a moment when you realize you’ve met before.

“Poe, right?” you guess, smiling slightly when he meets your eyes and nods a third time. “Are you injured anywhere else?”

“Don’t think so,” he croaks, his voice slightly muffled by the breath mask. “Didn’t burn my eyebrows off, did I?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “No, it appears they’ve been spared.”

“Well, thank the Maker,” he jokes as another cough wracks his body.

The droid beside him beeps angrily and Poe sighs wearily. You bite back a smile, fighting the urge to chuckle at the interaction. “What’s he saying?”

He waves a hand at you as if to say it doesn’t matter, and this results in even more beeps from the droid.

“Seems like he’s a little upset with you,” you deduce, shooting him a knowing look.

He scoffs, his breathing almost normal now. “That’s an understatement,” he mutters, briefly glancing at the little droid. 

“Why? What’d you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

Silent, you raise a teasing brow at him.

He huffs a laugh after a moment, the action sending him into another, albeit less intense, coughing fit.

“Easy,” you say softly, adjusting the seal of the mask on his face. 

He nods, his eyes briefly locking with yours before his attention is pulled away once more by his droid. It beeps at him again, this time sounding more morose than angry. Poe sighs, his shoulders sagging a little as he reaches down to lay a hand on the little droid’s head. “I know, buddy. I’m glad you’re okay too.”

Your heart swells at the exchange and you briefly turn away to give them a little privacy. After a minute or two, you turn to check the gauge on the breath mask. His oxygen levels are now above normal, despite the occasional coughing fit, so you remove it and set it aside.

“Small sips,” you instruct, handing him a cup of water.

Poe mumbles a thanks and takes it from you, his fingers brushing against yours. You ignore the jolt that zips through you at his touch, turning away again to busy yourself with your next task. 

When you return a moment later with a damp cloth, he furrows his brow in confusion. “What’s that for?”

“I just want to make sure there are no other injuries before I discharge you,” you say, smiling as you gesture to his soot-covered face.

“Right,” he laughs, shifting a little on the bed. 

You angle his chin up and begin gently wiping the grime off his face. You work in silence, feeling Poe’s eyes on you as you turn his head this way and that. When the cloth you’re using is no longer clean, you stop, turning away with the intention of getting another. As a result, you almost trip over Poe’s droid.

“Oh,” you exclaim in surprise as the droid rolls back a bit, cocking its head to look up at you. “Hello.”

He beeps at you happily and you chuckle.

“Sorry. This is BB-8,” Poe says from behind you, fondness in his voice.

“It’s nice to meet you, BB-8,” you say, introducing yourself as you crouch down to the droid’s level. “Is it safe to assume you’re the reason Poe still has his eyebrows?”

Poe snorts and you can’t help the warmth that unfurls in your chest at the sound. BB-8 beeps excitedly at you again in response and you find yourself wishing that you understood Binary.

“How long have you two been together?” you ask, turning your head to direct the question to Poe.

He shrugs. “At this point, I can’t really remember a time when we weren’t.”

Your smile is a little sad as you stand to your feet, his brown eyes warm when you meet them. “Sounds nice. Always having someone, I mean.” 

There’s a pause as you turn, walking to the cabinet and rifling through it in search of another cloth. When you find one, you move toward the sink in the corner to wet it, squeezing out the excess liquid so it doesn’t drip all over the floor. You lower yourself back onto your stool upon your return, rolling it in front of him. When you meet his eyes again, that something is there, the something you’d seen when you’d first met, and you know that he sees you.

You smile numbly, averting your gaze as you begin to clean the soot from his face again. 

“You just transferred here, right?” he asks, his voice soft.

Your eyes flick back to his briefly before refocusing on your task. “Yeah, a few months ago.”

He makes a contemplative noise as you finish cleaning the soot from his skin. “How are you liking it?”

You sniff a laugh, turning slightly to prepare bacta patches for the minor scrapes and singes on his face. “We’re at war. Is anyone liking it?”

“Fair point,” he chuckles, absently drumming his fingers on his thighs. “There are still things to enjoy though, even in the midst of war.”

“Such as?” 

“Family, friends…flying.”

“Sounds like a personal motto,” you tease, applying the last bacta patch.

He chuckles again, the sound filling you with a giddiness you haven’t felt in what feels like years. “I guess it kinda is.”

You smile, smoothing the edges of the patches over his skin one more time before allowing your eyes to meet his again. There’s a warmth and kindness there that makes you want to curl up in his lap like a loth cat. There’s something else too, something you can’t quite name, something that makes your stomach flip and your palms sweat. You’re staring, you know you are, but you can’t make yourself look away. He’s close, so close, you hadn’t realized how much, your body unconsciously leaning toward him, toward his comforting warmth—

“Also the smoked lizard.”

You blink, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

He snorts, briefly flicking his eyes away as a flush climbs up his neck. “It’s another reason to like it here. The smoked lizard.”

You laugh, chewing on your bottom lip. “Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

A slightly awkward silence falls between you and you will yourself to be professional, to be normal for two kriffing seconds.

“Well, um, you’re good to go, I think,” you say, rising from your stool and picking up the tray beside the bed. “I trust BB-8’ll stop you from getting into any more trouble. Tonight, at least.”

The droid beeps cheekily and Poe smiles, nodding as he stands to his feet. “Thanks, Doc.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, fingers clenching on the tray as you meet his eyes again. “Take care of yourself this time, will you?”

“I’ll try,” he chuckles, rubbing that back of his neck. “Come on, buddy.”

The little droid whistles and beeps, swiveling his head toward you as if saying it’s own thanks, before rolling out the medbay door on Poe’s heels.

—

“Hey, someone’s asking for you.”

You look up from your data pad, head still running through the details of the medical chart you’d just been reading. “What?”

The medic speaking to you is new and you’re still having trouble remembering her name. Taia, maybe?

“Someone’s asking for you. In the front,” she repeats, gesturing back toward the medbay.

Your brow furrows in confusion. “For me?”

She blinks at you. “Yeah.”

“Who is it?” you ask, oblivious to her agitation.

She sighs, gesturing again to the medbay. “Will you just…come out here, please? Maker.”

You watch as she walks away, moderately amused by her impatience. As you follow her out onto the floor, you look in the direction of your assigned section that day and see—

“Poe?”

His head shoots up at the sound of his name, brown eyes warming with recognition as they lock with yours. A smile curls on his lips as you head over to him, one that makes something tingle beneath your skin.

“Hey,” he says, raising his hand awkwardly in a wave.

You do a quick once over and don’t notice any obvious injuries. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He nods, smile shifting into something closer to a cringe. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just uh–”

Instead of finishing, he gestures to his hand, which you now see he’s holding somewhat awkwardly in his lap.

“Oh, what happened?” you ask, pulling on your gloves.

He shrugs, averting his gaze like he’s embarrassed about something. “It’s nothing really. I was fixing something on my ship and got a little cut. I just don’t want it to get infected, you know?”

You nod, reaching out to gently take his hand. “Of course, I understand.”

He nods, swallowing thickly as you peel back his fingers to assess the damage. You bring his hand closer to your face to get a closer look, gently turning it this way and that.

“Right,” you begin, meeting his gaze again. “It’s not bad, like you said, but it is a little deep so I think we should put in a few stitches just to be on the safe side.”

He nods again, licking his lips. “Whatever you say, Doc, you’re the expert.”

You smile, gaze flicking briefly to his mouth. You avert your eyes immediately, skin warming with embarrassment as you turn away to retrieve the items you need from your tray.

“Alright, just, don’t move okay? This might sting a bit,” you instruct, guiding his hand to rest on the bed beside him.

“Okay,” he mumbles, watching as you push his fingers away from his palm.

You work on cleaning the cut first, making sure there’s nothing there that could cause an infection. Once that’s finished, you carefully weave in a few stitches and finish up with a bacta patch.

“There you go,” you say, before looking up at him with a smile. 

He smiles back, butterflies erupting in your belly at the sight. “Thanks.”

You nod, maintaining eye contact for Maker knows how long (you certainly don’t), before the clatter of a tray overturning brings you back to reality. Your eyelashes flutter as you quickly stand with the intention of gaining some distance, only to end up even closer than you had been.

“I, um–,” you begin, finally tearing your gaze from his, “I’m going to give you a salve to put on your hand once the stitches dissolve. It’ll help with scarring.”

“Great.”

You smile awkwardly as you turn to head toward the supply cabinet in the corner. On the way over, you berate yourself for behaving so unprofessionally, staring at Poe like some lovesick kid with a crush. You pull the cabinet door open when you reach it, staring blankly at the shelves for a moment. You're not sure what it is about him that has you acting this way, but you really need to nip it in the bud; he’s here for medical attention, not you.

Resolved, you take a breath, grabbing the salve and heading back over your patient.

“Here you go,” you say, annoyed at yourself by how breathless you sound as you hold the salve out to him.

As he takes the small container from you, his fingers brush yours, causing your gaze to automatically return to his. His eyes are as warm as his smile, glowing with something you can’t quite place, something you want to drown in.

“Right,” he rasps after a moment, clearing his throat as he stands to his feet. “Well, I don’t wanna take up anymore of your time. Thanks again, Doc.”

“Any time,” you respond, far more nonchalant than you’re actually feeling.

He turns to wave as he walks out the door, almost running into one of the other medics. You bite back a laugh as he apologizes, the tips of his ears reddening a little in embarrassment. He catches your eye one more time before leaving, an almost shy smile on his lips, and you allow yourself to consider, just for a moment, that maybe you were wrong, maybe he was here to see you. You smile at the thought, however unlikely it might be.

—

Most of the pilots are off world training today, so the base is pretty empty. As a result, Dr. Kalonia had given most of you the morning off. You greet your fellow medics as you make your way to the back to stash your things, smiling amiably as you make eye contact with a few of them. They mumble their “good mornings” back, already tired from their late night or early morning shifts. When you return to the front, you check the clipboard to find that day’s assignment. As you hurry over to your station, you mentally run through the list of things you need to check your medical cart for. So lost in your thoughts are you, you don’t even realize there’s already a patient at your station until you reach it. 

“Hey,” you say, a little surprised. 

“Hey,” Poe responds, grimacing slightly.

“Back already, huh?” you say, a teasing eyebrow raised. “Are you really this accident prone or did you just need an excuse to come see me again?” 

He chuckles, averting his gaze as a flush creeps its way up his neck. 

“I, uh, I think my foot might be broken actually,” he responds, shooting a mildly dirty look in the direction of BB-8. “BB ran over it.”

The droid beeps indignantly at the accusation, drawing your attention as you pull on a pair of gloves. Whatever BB says makes Poe scoff.

“Hey buddy, you’re a lot heavier than you realize.”

The droid beeps again, head wobbling back and forth indignantly and you have to bite back a laugh when Poe shoots you a mildly exasperated look..

“How ‘bout I just take a look,” you say, sitting on your stool and rolling it in front of him. 

He nods, hissing a little when you remove his boot and sock, setting them on the stretcher beside him.

“Does it hurt anywhere specifically or just all over?” you ask, examining his foot for any signs of bruising.

“My toes. They’re definitely broken.”

BB-8 beeps again, almost sarcastically, you think, and Poe sends another glare in the droid’s direction. “I am not being dramatic.”

You bite back a smile as they continue to bicker back and forth, your attention fixed on the appendages in question. Poe has no adverse reaction to your prodding and wiggling, and you’re beginning to think that BB might actually be right, until you get to his pinky toe. 

He halts midargument, sucking in a breath and grabbing at his leg. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, quickly grabbing some medical tape from your cart and slowly wrapping it around both his injured toe and the one beside it.

He muffles a groan of pain as you complete your task, gently lowering his foot off of your lap. 

“Okay?” you ask with a slight grimace.

He takes a steadying breath and nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good,” you say, offering him a small smile. “It’s hard to know for sure if it’s broken given our lack of equipment but I taped it up just in case. Just stay off of it as much as you can and redo the tape every few days until your pain subsides.”

He nods again as you finish, meeting your gaze as you hand him a roll of medical tape. “Got it. Thanks.”

His hair is a little unkempt, stray curls falling across his forehead and into his eyes. You try not to stare, you really do, but Maker he’s just so pretty and you’re only human.

It’s then that you notice that he’s staring at you too, brown eyes slowly roaming your face as if taking in every detail, his brows furrowed a little in concentration. Your heart skips in your chest at the realization, warmth flaring beneath your skin—

Does Poe Dameron like you?

Sure, you’d joked about it earlier, but the thought had never seriously crossed your mind before; why would he like you, anyway? You’ve only met a few times before this and none of them were outside of the medbay. No, he’s just accident prone, you think, your stomach sinking with disappointment. 

You break away first, shaking your head slightly, as if to shake off your thoughts. Your movement brings him back to reality too, you assume, because he looks away almost immediately after you do, eyes falling to study his hands. 

Before either one of you can say anything else, BB-8 beeps at Poe, whose head snaps so quickly in the droid’s direction, you’re surprised he didn’t pull something. 

“What?”

The droid beeps again and whatever he says makes Poe immediately lean over and whisper furiously at him. BB beeps again, sounding impatient. 

Before you can even think to intervene, someone on the other side of the room calls your name.

“Oh sorry, I’ve gotta—” you begin, pointing toward the commotion starting to unfold.

Poe nods, looking a little pained. “Yeah, of course. Thanks again, Doc.”

You shoot them both a smile before turning away, grabbing your data pad off of your tray before jogging across the room.

—

It’s been a few weeks since you last saw Poe. Apparently, the General had sent him out on some super top secret mission with no word on when he might return (not that you’d asked or anything…).

Is it weird to admit that you miss him? Can you miss someone you don’t even really know that well?

And yet, you do. Miss him, that is. You miss his kind eyes, his smile, his back and forth with BB-8, his (apparent) penchant for clumsiness, him calling you ‘Doc’ even though you’re not a doctor—

Kriff. 

You sigh, dragging your hand over your face as you walk down the hall you know will lead you back to the medbay. They’re short staffed today—a bout of flu had run through the medics on the night shift and everyone else had had to work doubles for the last week as a result. It’s bustling when you return and you immediately throw yourself back into the fray; it’s only the middle of your shift, you’re exhausted. 

Once there’s a bit of a lull, Dr. Kalonia sends you and a few other medics who look dead on their feet to the back to grab a little sleep. Normally, you’d try to protest, but you honestly don’t have the energy to fight her on it right now. You pass out the second your head hits the pillow.

The blaring of sirens rips you from sleep, the sound making your blood run cold.

The base is under attack.

You scramble to your feet, almost running into one of the other medics as you head to the front, struggling to remember your training. It’s a bit chaotic, but most of the medics manage to keep their heads cool, doing whatever they need to do for the good of the Resistance. It bolsters you, gives you the courage you need to do the same. That’s why you’re here after all.

After about fifteen minutes, the sirens abruptly stop, the sudden silence almost deafening to your ears after the loud blaring of the alarm. Everyone’s confused, including the doctor, who immediately grabs her comm to try and get some answers. The tension in the room is palpable as you wait, unsure of what’s happening; are you still under attack? Were you ever? Was this some kind of drill the General ordered just to see how everyone would respond?

You don’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, a group bursts into the medbay with someone on a stretcher. One of them calls for the doctor and she immediately jumps into action, calling on a few of the medics nearby for assistance. You hang back, watching with nervous bewilderment, still wondering what’s going on. Someone shifts, creating an opening in the crowd huddled around the patient, and you catch a flash of bright orange—a pilot.

Your mind immediately thinks of Poe, panic tightening your chest…until you remember he’s out on a mission. He’s fine, you think, turning away from the commotion in an effort to distance yourself from your thoughts. And even if he wasn’t, he’s not yours to worry about anyway, right?

Yours. The word makes your chest ache.

As you check on the patients in your section, making sure their vitals are all still stable, you hear a shout from across the room. You turn your attention toward them just to make sure they don’t need help, before returning your attention to your tasks. There’s another shout, but this time you don’t bother giving it your attention; there are closer medics than you. A few moments later, Dr. Kalonia herself calls your name.

When you turn around, several medics wave you over.

“He’s asking for you,” the doctor says when you reach them, gesturing toward the patient on the stretcher. “Just keeps saying your name over and over.”

“Me?” you question, baffled as you step a little closer, anxiety settling in your gut.

She nods somewhat impatiently. “Just let him know you’re here so we can continue.”

“O-of course,” you mutter, scrambling into the opening they create for you.

You pause when you see the pilot, mouth falling open in surprise. He’s bloody and bruised, eyes closed tight as he writhes in pain, orange flight suit pretty much torn to shreds—

Poe.

The doctor calls your name again, shaking you from your surprise. Immediately, you lean in close so he can hear you. You tell him that you’re there, that he’s safe, that you’re going to help him, your voice low and soft. He doesn’t respond, just keeps mumbling your name over and over again, clearly in distress, his eyes squeezed shut in pain. You try again, voice calm as you clasp his hand in yours, your free hand pushing back his blood and sweat-soaked curls. One of his eyes opens slightly at your touch and, while you’re not sure he can actually see you, you smile. He squeezes your hand then, and your smile widens, relief flooding through you. Your name continues to fall from his lips, but it’s less anxious now, more content.

Once Dr. Kalonia and her team stabilize him, they move him to the quietest corner of the room in the hopes that he can get some rest. His care is transferred to you, your other patients redistributed among the other medics. He’d stopped murmuring your name a while ago, the meds the doctor had given him finally kicking in and easing his pain. He doesn’t let go of your hand though. You could probably slip out of his hold easily enough, especially in his current state, but you find that you don’t really want to.

You find out later that Poe’s mission had (apparently) gone awry and he’d been forced to commandeer a First Order ship in order to make his escape; that explained the base alarms and the sudden cessation of them, at least. As for what had been the cause of his many injuries, you weren’t told (classified information, apparently). Doesn’t really matter though, you suppose, so long as he’s alright.

You’d cleaned him up the best you could given the circumstances (sponge baths only helped so much, after all), gently washing his hair, his face. The doctor had come by a few times to check on him (and one other time to try and convince you to return to your quarters to get some sleep). You can tell that she wants to know why he’d asked for you, why your mere presence had calmed him, why you now refused to leave his side. The truth is, you don’t really know. You know you feel a connection to him, one that you don’t have with anyone else, but you’re not really sure what it means. Do you love him? No, it’s too soon for that, you think, you barely even know him. Still, something in your soul calls to him, yearns for him. You wonder if he feels that something too.

It’s later in the evening now, the chaos from earlier having passed. The medbay is quiet, most of the day’s patients either having been discharged or are already asleep for the night. You’re still at Poe’s bedside, eyelids drooping as you fight to stay awake. You know you should leave, should get some rest, but he might wake up while you’re gone and you don’t want him to wake up alone. His hand is still clasped loosely in yours, his skin warm and dry. You stare at it, at the dried blood still beneath his fingernails, wondering idly if it’s his own or someone else’s; what had he gone through to get back here? What he had lost?

At some point, you must doze off because one moment you’re staring at Poe’s hand and the next you’re waking with a start. You groan as your neck twinges, the angle at which you’d been laying with your head half on his bed making it ache.

“I know what you mean,” a familiar voice rasps softly.

Your eyes immediately shoot up to meet theirs—warm brown, tinged with mild amusement and fondness.

“You’re awake,” you say, cringing a little at yourself for stating the obvious. “How are you feeling?”

Poe smiles, then immediately winces as he shifts, his hand pressing into his side. “Spectacular.”

You grimace, eyes sweeping over him in assessment. “Can I get you anything? Water? More pain meds?”

He chuckles, then immediately winces again. “I’m good. Thanks.”

You nod, unsure of what to do or say next; you’ve gotten so used to taking care of him, it feels odd to just sit here now.

“Where’s BB-8?” you ask, only just now realizing the little droid hadn’t accompanied the pilot to the medbay.

Poe frowns, averting his gaze. “He got hit pretty bad before we got on the ship. They said the mechanics are working on him, but no one’ll tell me any more than that.”

“I can find out for you,” you offer, moving to stand to your feet. 

He stops you, grasping your hand, wincing as the movement aggravates his injuries. “No, it’s fine. I–he’s in good hands. I’m just…worried is all.”

You nod, reclaiming your seat beside him. Silence falls between you, and while he seems perfectly comfortable, you can’t help but feel a little anxious.

“Thank you, by the way,” he says softly after a moment, his gaze falling to your clasped hands. “I…don’t remember much, but I remember hearing your voice. Not sure I’d be sitting here if it wasn't for you.”

You clear your throat, skin heating with embarrassment as you shift awkwardly in your seat. “Of course. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

He meets your eyes again, that ever-present something in his gaze making your stomach flip. “Me too.”

You keep him company for a little bit, the two of you swapping stories and telling jokes. He tells you about growing up on Yavin IV, about his parents and, in turn, you tell him about your homeworld, about your past. Dr. Kalonia stops by at the shift change, again trying to convince you to return to your quarters for some proper rest. You try to decline, but Poe insists, and it’s the care and concern in his eyes that ends up persuading you. 

Weariness settles into your limbs as you shuffle down the hall, the events of the past couple of days catching up to you as the last dregs of adrenaline finally wear off. As you walk, you think about the time you’d spent with Poe and you smile, realizing he’d given you exactly what you’ve been longing for since you arrived here on D’Qar—a chance to connect, to be seen. When you finally make it to your quarters, you fall onto your bed, your brain going fuzzy as sleep rushes in quickly to claim you. 

—

When you return to the medbay the next day, you spot Poe standing beside his bed with his back to you—he’s been discharged, you realize, disappointment sinking in your belly as you watch him pack up his things. It’s not that you aren’t glad he’s well enough to leave, you are of course, you’ll just…miss keeping him company. 

You sigh, forcing yourself to look happy as you make your way over to him. If nothing else, you should at least tell him goodbye.

“Hey,” you greet, leaning against the side of the bed. 

He turns at the sound of your voice, eyes brightening when they meet yours. “Hey.”

“You’ve been liberated, I see,” you say, gesturing toward the bag on the chair beside the bed.

He chuckles, wincing slightly at the action. “That’s one way to put it.”

You nod, momentarily averting your gaze. “Heading to a briefing?”

“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “Gonna go pick up BB actually.”

The knowledge that the little droid is alright makes your heart lighten and your smile softens. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

“I’ll be glad to see him too,” Poe agrees, smiling fondly as he slings the strap of the bag over his shoulder. 

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say, something that’ll keep him there just a little longer.

“Thanks again…for everything,” he says finally, his gaze soft and open as it holds yours.

You nod, swallowing thickly as your heart stutters a little at the intensity there; you’re not sure anyone has ever looked at you like this, has made you feel like this, and you’re beginning to think it’s not just you. Should you do something? Say something? Who knows when you’ll see him again. You open your mouth, the words sticking in your throat as you try to force them out—

In the end, you can’t, your courage waning at the last second as you force your eyes from his. You sigh, frustrated with yourself.

“Please at least try to take care of yourself this time, okay?” you croak, wetting your suddenly dry lips.

He chuckles again, and you have to bite back a smile at the sound.

“But if I did that, I wouldn’t have an excuse to see you,” he quips; his tone is teasing but the words make your heart skip nonetheless.

You scoff, waving a hand as you meet his eyes again. “Please, you don’t need an excuse.”

“No?”

“Of course not.”

“Okay. How about later then?”

Your eyes widen a little with surprise; he’s not…is he? 

“Later?” you ask, trying not to get your hopes up.

He shrugs, his smile almost shy as he scratches the back of his neck. “You said I didn’t need an excuse.”

That something is in his eyes again; that something you can’t exactly give a name to but feel in your soul, that something that seems to connect you both somehow.

“Okay,” you say, chewing on your bottom lip. “One condition.”

“Name it,” he says, brown eyes shining.

“It has to be outside of the medbay.”

He laughs, eyes crinkling as he smiles. “Deal.”

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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Addendum - First "Date"

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Hi there! I really * love * your writing and would like to request a Daryl x fem!reader story.

Set in 10x11, reader takes care of Daryl after he returns from his fight with Alpha. The reader treats the wounds (leg, face, bruises). They also might talk about Carol's odd behavior and are worried about her.

Then it's about getting ready to fight the herd and the Whisperers, not knowing if they'll survive the night. They probably also have a daughter and they're worried about her, Judith' and RJ's safety.

There could be fluff, a spark of hope or even smut (carefully because of his injuries, of course) or anything like that.

I would love to read that 😊 xx

I am the Mess You Chose

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Hilltop (Whisperers Era)

Warnings: Injuries; Medical treatment

A/N: I really tried with this, Anon. I hope I did okay. I think it went more angsty than I had intended. Still, I hope you enjoy. I also really love Daryl giving the reader the nickname Pip, short for pipsqueak. It just resonates with me, so I hope my little bit of self indulgence is okay.

*gif is not mine

You were speaking with Luke and Yumiko when you heard the familiar rumble of Daryl’s bike, turning toward the gate with Aspen on your hip. Her cries of dada dada dada accompanied the clapping of her little hands while your husband rode through with Lydia on the back of the bike. You could instantly see that something wasn’t right. 

“Any sign of them?” Yumiko reached them first, not waiting until the motorcycle had even been shut off. Daryl was looking down, avoiding the light.

“We didn’t get that far.” He grumbled while Lydia dismounted. Kelly stepped forward next, looking concerned but whether it was for Daryl or who he didn’t bring back, you couldn’t be sure. You were handing Aspen off to Jerry with a quick please watch her before you moved past everyone. Daryl was struggling to get off the bike, grunting and instantly keeping the weight off his left leg. “We gotta talk.”

“Not you.” You interjected, dragging his arm over your shoulders. “Lydia, can you handle the details?” The girl nodded. You gave Jerry another glance and received a nod before he had little Aspen waving at you and Daryl, who put on a brave face for his daughter until you were out of sight. He made a noise in the back of his throat the moment the two of you stepped across the threshold, both legs nearly buckling beneath him. “I gotcha. Downstairs bedroom, just a little further.” You shook your head at someone who appeared to be close to addressing Daryl and jerked your chin toward the front door in a silent request for them to shut it. “Can you open the bedroom door, Daryl?”

“Yeah.” He rasped, fumbling for the knob before finally grasping it and shoving the door open. It was a bit of a challenge but you eventually got him to the bed and let him sink down on the edge of the mattress. “Hey, Pip.” He offered you the smallest of smiles while looking up at you, your fingers brushing his hair away from the substantial laceration above his eye.

“Don’t hey, Pip me, Daryl Dixon! What happened?” You admonished, continuing your assessment and finding more injuries on his torso but his leg, that was where your worry spiked. His pants were stiff with dried blood, the bandages lined at the top with a tightly bound piece of fabric. A tourniquet, you surmised. 

“Found Alpha. Tried to find out where they were.” He leaned back on his hands, his upper body swaying.

“I see how well that conversation went.” You deadpanned.

He responded at first with a hum. “Lydia found me. S’half dead. She dragged my sorry ass outta there, patched me up good ‘nough to get back.” Daryl jolted, the bandages sticking to his skin as you unwound them from the wound. You’d need to grab some antibiotics for sure. Knife wound, deep. The bleeding had all but stopped thanks to the tourniquet, but you felt sick at the thought of how easily the femoral artery could have been nicked. How quickly he would have bled out. “Was gonna leave it.”

“What?” You looked up to find him watching you. He nodded toward his leg.

“Alpha’s knife. Was gonna leave it. Knew better’an to pull it out, but she followed me. Drew in three walkers. Had to use it.” You stared at him levelly, not relenting when he reached to trace a finger down your jaw. “S’good to see your face, Pip. An' baby girl’s. For a minute there—for a minute, I thought I wasn’t comin’ back.” 

“Remind me to thank Lydia after I throttle the hell out of you for going alone.” You stepped out of the room for the suture kit, more antiseptic and bandages. “How long has this been on?” You motioned toward the tourniquet with the suture kit.

“Few hours.”

Slamming the kit onto the mattress, your head followed it with a groan. “I’ll have to do an IV, Daryl. We need to do a bolus of fluids to flush out the toxins building up where the blood isn’t flowing.” You weren’t mad, not really. You were redirecting your fear into something that wouldn’t have you a trembling mess while trying to stitch up your husband’s damn near fatal wound.

“M’sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m—” You sighed and knelt next to his leg to clean the wound thoroughly. “I’m just glad you’re here. Safe. And in one piece.” You tilted your head. “More or less.” It always hurt your heart to tend to his injuries, not just knowing the wound itself was painful, but knowing it would just add to the collection of scars he had accumulated throughout his life. He didn’t seem so bothered by them anymore but that didn’t mean you enjoyed watching him gather them like tattoos. 

The two of you were quiet as you stitched, not a single word until you tied off the last one and clipped the remaining thread. You placed the used materials in the wastebasket and stepped out of the room, jogging down to the medical unit for IV supplies, antibiotics, and fluids. People were moving about hastily but you’d find out why later. You had to take care of your husband first. Arms full, you detoured to find Jerry. He was on the ground with Aspen, her little arms flailing around as she stood in front of him, telling the world’s tallest tale. The man caught your eye and nodded. You mouthed a thank you and continued back to the house. There must have been something he was needed for, but you were keeping him from it. 

Daryl was lying down when you returned, an arm thrown across his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping, the rhythmic tapping of each finger against his thumb a tell tale sign that he was anxious. You needed to find out what was going on, why everyone was bustling about in waves, though you had an inkling. You were just hoping to be wrong.

Clearing your throat, you entered the room. “You really pulled a Carol yesterday, you know.”

“That ain’t funny.” He huffed, lifting his arm slightly. He looked so exhausted and pale. 

“It wasn’t intended to be, love.” He just happened to be shielding his eyes with the arm you needed, but didn’t fight you when you pulled it down to lie straight at his side and rolled up the sleeve. Placing the rubber tourniquet above his elbow, you started palpating for a vein, glancing up at him every few seconds. “She’s not doing so hot, is she?”

“Nah. She ain't.” He replied quietly. He didn’t flinch when you slid the needle in, getting a good return before removing the tourniquet and popping the needle back to leave the catheter behind. “Worried ‘bout her.”

“I know.” You straightened the tubing and connected it to the bags you hung on the headboard, open the line to start the flow of fluids and antibiotics. “I’m gonna take the tourniquet from your leg. It’s not gonna feel great.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Done this dance a million times, Pip.” 

You nodded and circled the bed, grabbing the scissors from the medical kit on your journey. You positioned the blades before glancing up at your husband. He was staring at the ceiling, but you knew where his head was.

“Are you angry with her?” Snip. Daryl grunted and clenched his fists, the circulation returning in a painful spiral throughout the injured limb.

“Yeah. Yeah, m’fuckin’ angry with her.” He snapped quietly, nostrils flaring. “Keeps takin’ off half-cocked, gettin’ herself hurt, gettin’ other people—” His mouth snapped shut into a thin line, his left arm coming up to cover his eyes that time. 

“Connie.” You supplied. You knew Daryl had taken a liking to the woman. She radiated confidence and positivity and just life. Your husband had grabbed onto that with both hands and held fast, pulling her into your little family. You both adored her. You didn’t blame Carol per se, but she did hold some of the responsibility for Connie’s—disappearance. “Daryl.”

“What?” He huffed, his irritation not directed at you. You knew him better than that.

“What if it were Aspen?” He jerked his arm away from his eyes so quickly that you flinched, knowing he was about to yell at you for even suggesting such a thing. “Stop. It’s a horrible thought, I know. But take how just that thought makes you feel and multiply it by infinity, my love. That is where Carol’s heart is right now and her head can’t even try to keep up with it.”

“That ain’t—she just—” His chin was wobbling, an inner war raging behind his stormy blue eyes.

Grabbing some butterfly stitches, gauze, and alcohol, you crawled onto the mattress and sat cross-legged by his shoulder. When you began to dab at the wound on his forehead, his face fell and his defeated gaze found your steady one. 

“I’m not saying she’s right, love. I’m just saying maybe she’s not wrong either.” You said nothing else until you had closed the wound with the strips and leaned forward to place a kiss between his eyes. “You two will get through this. You always find a way.” With a sniff and a deep breath, Daryl nodded. You were unbuttoning his shirt to tend to the other wounds when you yourself inhaled deeply, eyes flashing up to your husband’s face. “I need you to tell me what’s happening out there.”

“Be here by nightfall. Still gives us a bit to get ready.”

You stood at Daryl’s side against the upstairs bannister while everyone below scurried about with weapons and supplies. 

“You’re sure all the roads are blocked?” You tapped your fingers against the wood nervously.

“You were on one of them roads yourself, Pip. Ya saw it. They got ‘em all.” The archer’s bandaged hand covered yours to still your anxious movements. “Listen, I wantcha with the kids.” Your eyes were already watching your daughter on the carpet downstairs with Judith and RJ, but your attention snapped toward him before he could finish speaking.

“No.”

“Ain’t a request. Wantcha to—”

“No, Daryl.” You snapped, pulling your hand away. “This bitch has taken from all of us. I’m gonna be right beside you, on the frontlines.”

“Nah, need ya to stay away from this. Need to know that Aspen’s with ‘er mama, that Jude an’ RJ have ya there to protect 'em.” You were shaking your head with every word, but he didn’t stop. “Can’t fight out there not knowin’ my family’s safe as they can get.”

“And I can’t sit in here knowing my husband is out there fighting without me.” You gestured to the whole of him. “Fighting when he’s already beaten all to hell!” “Just do this for me, Pip. Take care’a our kids. If somethin’ happens to me, baby girl, Jude, an’ RJ’re gonna need ya.” Daryl brushed your hair behind your ear and placed his hand on your cheek. Your eyes were wet with frustration and hopelessness and worry and grief. 

“Goddamn you, Daryl Dixon.” Your head fell forward against his chest, sniffling until he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you there while you pulled yourself together. He was right, and you knew it. Your daughter couldn’t lose both of her parents to that monster. Jude and RJ couldn’t lose what family they had left. “Alright. I’ll stay back with the kids.” Daryl kissed your forehead.

“M’gonna talk to Zeke. If one’a us goes down, the other’ll come for you an’ the kids, okay?”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Y/N, I’m just—”

“No, don’t talk like you’re not coming back to me.” You didn’t let him speak again before your mouth was on his, your hands in his hair while his squeezed your waist. “You are coming back to me.” You were walking him backwards toward one of the empty rooms, careful of his injury and accommodating his limp. 

“M’comin’ back.” He spoke quietly against your mouth, letting you unbutton his shirt before he could even manage to start shutting the door. “Always will.”

[nyamadermont]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 49. I have a few options for #50…

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 299,440. Ok, I hadn’t realized I was that close. Now, my answer to #1 might be “a new 560-word drabble.”

3. What fandoms do you write for? I’m nearly exclusively writing for Avatar: Legend of Korra, with a little bit of Last Airbender, where it fits in.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Rainstorm - Su is there for Lin, for once. 2. The Well of Need - My first long-form story, with Lin taking care of Kya. 3. This is My Anchor - A mid-sized Kyalin story where Lin doesn’t make Kya take care of her. 4. I’m Sorry I Need You - An angsty one-shot that fits with a couple others in the “marriage is hard” domain. 5. Walk With Me - A longer-than-intended one-shot variant on a Tumblr joke.

5. Do you respond to comments? I do, as soon as I can. Sometimes, that means getting off work. Sometimes, that means giving a response as meaningful as the comment was to me. 

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? For complete stand-alone stories, that is likely Something Changed, where the last words are usually joyous. I can’t find the link for the worst-worst ending I have, so just pretend that never happened.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? The happiest ending? I like my happy endings, so this is tough. But I think I’ll go for Elemental Changes, because that launched my collaboration with @slowdissolve on Red Jade.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not hate, exactly. One reader informed me that I had ‘let them down’ on a follow-up story because I didn’t write the story that was in their head. 

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I’ve done a little, but it hasn’t been a focus for me. And, aside from the polyamory aspect, it’s all as vanilla as it comes.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Not unless you count LOK + ATLA a crossover, which I don’t.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not to date.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? @slowdissolve and I wrote Moonsigns together, and we published two versions. One is told in first-person language and color coded, on Tumblr. We then followed it up with a more traditional third-person version that does not rely on color, on AO3.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? Kyalin is where everything opened up for me. 

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I’m taking quite the long view of all of this. I haven’t added to Their Sacred Year in a while, but have the outline for the next installment, so I don’t consider it abandoned.

16. What are your writing strengths? Folks seem to like my dialogue and plotting.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I struggle with the final rising action / climax / falling action, to keep the pacing appropriate to the story.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I don’t plan on it, given I am uneducated in the languages appropriate to this setting. 

19. First fandom you wrote for? Legend of Korra.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Saving the hardest for last. Naming the favorite child. Ok, fine. In that case, I’ll have to choose <wrestles with self> Elemental Changes (see #7), mostly because it’s a completely off-the-wall idea that I was able to see through and complete. And to have Slowdissolve illustrate the ending was an absolute capstone.

So I get to thank both @krastbannert and @wishingforatypewriter for their invitations!

Now, it's time to throw the floor open to folks like @yell0wsalt, @dont-blame-it-on-the-kids, @linguini17, @frogblast-the-ventcore, @badlucksav, @cdlunee, and of course,

you.

[sequinsmile-x]

Noble

/ˈnəʊbl/ adjective.

having or showing fine personal qualities or high moral principles.

Emily and Aaron, along with the rest of the BAU, help look for a missing little girl who has the same name as their daughter.

-x-

Hi friends,

This started as an idea I had yesterday and, as always, spiralled wildly out of control. It's less a bit less of a case fic than I initially intended, but it is angsty, full of feelings and hurt/comfort as well as a good dose of domestic Hotchniss.

I really hope you like this, and I would love to know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 5.5k (really really got away from me.)

Warnings: kidnapping, canon typical themes

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She’s woken up by tiny hands pressing into her face, familiar warm and little fingers digging into her cheeks. Emily blearily opens her eyes, struggling at first as if they’d been glued together by a lack of sleep, and she’s met with her little girl's face, her dark eyes shining in the low light of the room. 

“Alice, honey, are you okay?” she asks, reaching to the nightstand to turn on the lamp, internally winching when she sees it’s only 4 am. She rests her elbow on the mattress to get a better look at her little girl. 

The movement causes her husband's arm to slip from its place over her waist, the weight of it now resting on her hip. She can feel from his breathing against the back of her neck that the small amount of light in the room hadn’t woken Aaron up. When they first started sleeping together, in the very literal sense, they’d both been light sleepers. Both so used to being alone and facing their monsters by themselves, their demons who had faces of very real men prone to coming out of any shadow. Any sound no matter how small enough to draw them from sleep and into a reality where danger was waiting for them. 

After close to five years together, four of them married, they were both heavier sleepers now, aware of the safety they brought each other even in sleep. A kind of security their children often sought out, her and Aaron’s bed a frequent sanctuary for Jack or Alice, sometimes both, when they woke up in the middle of the night. 

She feels her heart clench at the sight of her 3-year-old daughter. Ever since she was born everyone had always told her that Alice looked exactly like her, something that only seemed to be more true as time went on. If she looked at photos of herself when she was Alice’s age they looked identical, and she often wondered if she’d once been like her little girl, full of life and wonder and joy, before she was taught she needed to be ‘better behaved’. 

Emily knows what’s happened before Alice responds, the signs of a nightmare all there. Her hair was unruly, dark curls that Emily couldn’t say where they’d come from escaping the braids Aaron had diligently done under the toddler's instructions at bedtime. She has visible tear tracks on her perfect cheeks, her eyes shining with more, and her lower lip trembling as if she was trying to stop herself from crying, as if she was trying to be brave. 

“Bad dream,” Alice replies and Emily sighs sympathetically, reaching out and tucking some of Alice’s hair behind her ear, smiling sadly when the toddler leans into the affection. 

“I’m sorry baby,” she says quietly, aware of her still-sleeping husband behind her, “Want to sleep in here with me and Daddy?” Alice nods as she rubs her eyes and Emily pulls back the covers so the little girl can climb under them. She tucks her against her chest, smiling softly as Alice curls into her, her head tucked under her chin as she snuggles in, her tiny fist clasped in Emily’s pyjama shirt.  Emily turns the lamp back off and wraps her arms around her daughter, rubbing comforting circles on her back, “Want to tell Mommy about the bad dream?” 

Alice shakes her head against her, “No,” she says, rubbing the material of Emily’s shirt between her thumb and forefinger to self-soothe, “Mama sing?” 

Emily smiles before she nods, pressing a kiss against the top of Alice’s head as she continues to rub circles on her back, easing her back asleep. It was something she’d done for Jack before Alice had been born, something she’d done on a whim one day when she was home alone with him early on in her relationship with Aaron and the little boy had a nightmare. He’d climbed into bed with her and she’d started singing, hoping it would calm him down and it had. Ever since then, he’d asked for her to sing when he was sick or sad, and she’d happily comply. It seemed natural to do the same thing for Alice, and she’d done it before she was even born. More than once Aaron had walked into a room to find her with her hands pressed into her bump, as she sang quietly. 

“Of course, sweet girl. What do you want me to sing?” 

Alice yawns, already getting heavier against Emily’s chest, her mother’s embrace her favourite safe place, “The sunshine song.” 

She rests her cheek on top of Alice’s head and starts to sing, making sure she stays as quiet as possible so she doesn’t wake up Aaron. 

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away.”

She feels Alice’s grip on her shirt loosen, and her breathing even out against her neck, and she blows out a slow breath, pressing a kiss to the little girl's forehead before she rests her head properly on her pillow, ready to try and find sleep again herself. Just as she closes her eyes she feels Aaron’s arm move, his hand shifting from her hip to rest over hers on Alice’s back, enveloping them both in his embrace. 

“Is she okay?” He asks sleepily, his voice thick with sleep in a way that never failed to make her stomach flip, a delicious part of him that was only for her and their children. 

“She’s okay,” she replies, turning her head to look at him, the sleepy concerned look on his face enough to make her smile. She stamps a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “She had a bad dream. Sorry we woke you.” 

He shakes his head, letting her know he doesn’t need her apology, that he’d never be mad about how much she loved their children. He kisses her lips and then her shoulder as she lays back down properly, and he hums, “There are worse ways to be woken up than to you singing our daughter to sleep.” 

___

They get woken up early the next morning by Penelope, an urgency to her voice that sends shivers down both of their spines when she says they have an amber alert in New Mexico that they’ve been asked to help with. 

Aaron calls Jess whilst Emily gets Alice and Jack ready for the day, and they exchange hurried goodbyes once Jess has arrived. Hugs with their children that feel too quick as they rush out of the door, well aware that another child’s fate rested well and truly on their shoulders. 

When they get to the jet they finally have a chance to ask for the details of the case, of the little girl who’d been snatched from outside of her home the evening before whilst her mother took in the washing. 

Emily’s breath catches in her chest when she sees the file, and Penelope hesitates before she says the name of the missing girl. It’s a momentary reaction she can’t control, something that makes the rest of the team look at her, and makes Aaron place his hand on her thigh under the table. She rests her hand over his and links their fingers together, squeezing tightly as she clears her throat. 

“Sorry,” she says, smiling tightly as she makes eye contact with JJ before she returns her attention to the laptop, “Pen, carry on.” 

Penelope hesitates for a moment before Aaron clears his throat, making it clear he doesn’t want anyone drawing any more attention to his wife’s reaction, and she nods, blowing out a slow breath before she continues. 

“Our victim's name is Alice Holmes. She was last seen…” 

The rest of the briefing fades out for Emily as she stares at the screen of her iPad, the face of a little girl who had her daughter's name staring back at her. 

___

It feels like she’s on a knife edge, every one of her nerves fried as she stares at the board with the victimology scattered across it.

This Alice looked nothing like her little girl. She was a couple of years older, the baby-fat Alice still had nowhere to be seen. She was blonde and had blue eyes, her hair almost pin straight in all the photos her parents had provided. Emily felt like it should be enough to convince herself that this was fine, that this wasn’t her daughter but someone else's and that she needed to hold herself together. 

It didn’t make it any easier anytime someone said ‘Alice’ as they were describing the kidnapping, or when they talked about the awful things she was likely enduring if she was still alive. Every time she closed her eyes her little girl’s face flashed across them and she felt like she wanted to scream.

She knew Aaron wasn’t faring any better. His shoulders tenser than normal, his fuse short as they hit a few dead ends and had to go to their hotel at the end of their first day on the case. He holds her close as they Facetime their children, some of the tension that had built throughout the day eased by the sight of Alice and Jack happy and healthy under the care of their aunt. 

Neither of them sleep well that night, waking in fits and starts. Taking it in turns to comfort the other when their subconscious taunted them in their dreams, very real things they’d both seen twisting into the situation they found themselves in. 

By the end of the second day, they worry they won’t find Alice until it’s too late, the chances of finding her alive diminishing with each passing hour. 

It’s Spencer who figures it out, his eidetic memory coming into play when he says he recognises the van for a cleaning company that had been parked outside of the Holmes’s house from the footage of the day Alice disappeared in CCTV from another, up until then, unrelated kidnapping. 

She leans in and she spots it too, the large letters on the side of the van clear even in the grainy footage. 

Ray Dawson Cleaning Services.

Penelope finds his address in record time, her relief palpable when she tells them he only lives an hour away. 

___

After the arrest is made, Dawson claims his innocence as Derek roughly takes him away, shoving him into the back of a cop car with what she knows is restraint, Aaron asks her to go into the house first. 

She understands why, knows she’s done it before, but it doesn’t help the way she feels. The way her chest feels hollowed out as they find the perfectly decorated bedroom for a little girl, something that looks like it was pulled out of a magazine, in Dawson’s basement. They have to force the door open because it is triple locked from the outside, the keys nowhere to be found and Dawson's decision to say this had nothing to do with him absolute, so she knows that Alice has to be somewhere in the room. 

The light switches on, the small windowless room floods with light, and Emily hears shuffling under the bed. She turns and nods at JJ before she tilts her head at the door, silently telling her to go tell the others they’d found her. Once she’s alone she kneels near the bed and peers under it, her breath catching in her chest at the sight of the little girl she’d only seen pictures of curled up against the wall, fear painted across her face that was far too much for a five-year-old to feel. 

“Hi Alice,” Emily says as she lays down, her body flat against the floor as she turns her head so she’s facing under the bed. Alice whimpers, holding a toy tight against her chest as she shies away, “My name’s Emily. I’m with the police.” 

“Is he coming back?” Alice asks, her voice shaking, tears spilling out onto her cheeks, and Emily wants nothing more than to pull the little girl into her arms, to hold her like she’d want someone to hold her little girl until she could get there, but she knows it has to be her choice. 

“No, honey. He’s not coming back,” she assures her, “When you’re ready, I’ll help you outside and your Mommy and Daddy are going to meet us at the hospital,” she adds, watching as Alice shrinks back into herself curling tighter against the wall at the mention of getting out from her place of safety. Emily sighs and tries to think how she could help, the sound of footsteps outside the room let her know the others were all there, waiting on her to bring the little girl out. She thinks of her daughter, and an idea starts to form in her head, “I have a little girl, she’s called Alice too.” 

Alice makes eye contact with her for the first time, furrowing her brow a little, “Really?” 

“Really,” Emily confirms, smiling as the 5-year-old relaxes a little, “She’s three so a little younger than you. My Alice…” she starts, having to clear her throat when she hears the shake in it, knowing this wasn’t the time for her emotions, how she felt about the last couple of days, “My Alice, when she’s scared or hurt she likes me to sing to her. Would you like me to sing to you?” 

Alice nods immediately, loosening her grip on her toy, “Yes please.” 

Emily smiles and puts her hand between them, still leaving space so she doesn’t get too close to Alice, but giving her the option of holding her hand if she wants to. 

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away.”

As she sings Alice scoots closer, at first placing her hand over Emily’s, squeezing her hand around hers before she gets even closer. By the time Emily finishes singing Alice is near enough Emily can feel her breath on her face. 

“Emily?” Alice asks, her hand tight in her shirt, wrapped around the material sticking out from the top of her bulletproof vest. 

“Yes, honey?” 

“Will you stay with me?” 

Emily nods, taking a deep breath, pushing the rising emotions back down into her stomach, feeling it turn over with them, nausea she knew would take to shift making itself known, “I’ll stay with you until we see your Mommy and Daddy, okay?” 

Alice stares at her for a moment before she nods and Emily smiles at her before she stands up, not even leaving it a second before she bends down and picks Alice up, hoisting her onto her hip. She tries to ignore the desperation in the little girl's hold on her, how tightly she clings to her neck. She carries her out of the room, cupping the back of her head as she presses her face into her neck, clearly not wanting to see the place where she’d been held or the people who had come to rescue her. It’s only when they get outside, when the fresh air hits them, that Alice looks up just as they are approaching Aaron who had been outside directing everything, his face serious as he talks to the lead detective. When he spots Emily and the little girl they’d been looking for sitting on her hip he pardons himself from the conversation and walks over. 

Alice shies away from him, wary of men after everything she’d been through, and she whimpers as Emily tries to soothe her. 

“It’s okay,” she says, “You remember I told you about my little girl?” 

She sniffs as she looks at Emily, seemingly never ending tears slipping down her cheeks, “Your Alice.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says, exchanging a look with her husband, “My Alice. This is her Daddy,” she says softly, “He’s going to take us to the hospital so you can see your Mommy and Daddy, is that okay?” 

Alice nods, her grip on Emily only loosening a little bit, “That’s okay.” 

Emily smiles and steps past Aaron to open the car door, settling into the back seat with Alice on her lap. Before she closes the door Aaron stops it, his hand on it as he looks at her, his concern clear, his stern expression fading away no one but her and the little girl they’d rescued could see her. 

“Are you okay?” 

He felt guilty for sending her in here first, for asking her to do something he knew would be difficult. It hadn’t been lost on him how hard the last couple of days had been on her, how the little girl that had been missing having the same name as their daughter had made a case that would already have been tough, even tougher. But she was the best at this, child advocacy something she was skilled in and cared deeply about, and it was no secret children largely trusted women over men - especially in a situation like this. 

As her boss, he knew that sending her in had been the right thing to do. As her husband, he wished he didn’t have to be the one to ask it of her. 

She smiles tightly at him as she holds Alice closer, grateful that the journey to the hospital was short because they didn’t have a car seat, “Later.” 

He nods, knowing it’s the best he’s going to get for now, and he reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, a silent show of the love he’d wait to give her, “Later.”

___

They head straight from the hospital to the jet where the rest of the team are waiting. 

Emily keeps her promise, she sits with Alice, the little girl all but glued to her side, until her parents arrive. Aaron stands in the corner of the room, answering the doctor’s questions as well as he could, keeping vigil over the little girl, who had the same name as his, and well as his wife, her nerves clearly close to fraying. 

It felt like a lifetime ago when he hadn’t been able to read her, when he would have thought she was unaffected by most of the things he saw. He knew her better now, and had done since before their relationship shifted from friendship into more. She was good at compartmentalising, that was true, but it was because she’d been taught since she was young that her emotions weren’t as important as what was going on around her. A side effect of the political world she’d been raised in, a past she’d never quite outrun. 

He could see it now. Could see how she ran her fingers through Alice’s hair like she was their Alice, how she clenched her jaw for a moment before she blew out a long slow breath whenever the little girl against her side asked her a question, getting herself ready to sound unaffected by what was going on around her.

It was nothing short of a privilege that he was the one those barriers would crumble around, that he was the person she trusted more than anyone else. He loved being there for her, he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone else. 

When Alice’s parents arrive, they are horrified she’d only been an hour away whilst she was missing, so close and yet so far out of reach. The little girl clambers out of Emily’s embrace and into her mother’s, her tears back with a vengeance as she sinks into her arms, her father’s arms around the both of them. Once Alice has calmed down a little, her parents hug both Emily and Aaron, their embraces a little tighter when the little girl tells them their daughter is called Alice too, a hint of innocence in her voice as the weight of her words settles over the adults in the room. 

The ride to the jet is silent. Emily stares out of the window, focusing on the town passing them by, the place she hoped to never have to visit again. 

As they board the jet she ignores how the rest of the team is looking at her, the empathy on their faces almost too much for her to bear. They had purposely left two seats for her and Aaron together, an unspoken rule that had existed since the team found out about their relationship, and she lets Aaron slip into the window seat, something he doesn’t argue with as she sits next to him, her eyes fixed on the table in front of them. 

The moment they can take their seatbelts off Emily is out of her seat, her back to the team as she steps into the kitchenette, the curtain pulled behind her so she can have a moment of privacy. She blows out a shaky breath as she places her palms on the small counter in the back, leaning some of her weight on it as she tries to catch her breath, to force everything she desperately didn’t want to feel until she was at home, until after she’d hugged her kids, back down. 

If she started crying now, she wasn’t sure she’d stop. 

She hears the swish of the curtain and familiar footsteps behind her. She doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s him. 

“Em.” 

She presses her lips together and turns to look at her husband, her arms crossed over her chest as she leans back against the counter. She clears her throat, her eyes fixed on him, how he stands in just in the entryway to the kitchenette, his shoulders tense as he doesn’t know how to approach her. She clenches her teeth and blows a breath out through them. 

“Can you make me some tea?” She asks, even though she’s closer to the hot water and the tea bags. He knows it’s an olive branch, her letting him look after her because she knows he needs to. 

“Of course,” he says, stepping closer, purposely not touching her as he pours some hot water into a paper cup and grabs a chamomile tea bag. He looks at her, his gaze fixed on her side profile as she continues to stare ahead. She’d always been beautiful to him, even when he was married to someone else, and even now, simmering in her grief and where she’d let her mind wander the last few days, she was still gorgeous. The slope of her nose, the cut of her jaw, and her long lashes that were casting shadows onto her cheek. She was beautiful, and she was all his. “This feels like a stupid question,” he starts, his focus back on stirring her tea, “But I have to ask it, how are you?” 

She scoffs, her arms tightening over her chest. She purposely keeps her voice low so it won’t be heard over the hum of the jet in the main part of the cabin, “Are you asking as my husband or as my boss?” 

He turns to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Does my answer change yours?” He asks curiously, and she finally looks at him, her eyebrows raised, and he knows what she hasn’t said, “Your husband.” 

She smiles sadly, her lower lip shaking in a way both of them ignore, “I had a hard day at work.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says, moving to reach out for her but stopping, not wanting to push her, to be the thing that tipped her over the edge, “I’m sorry, I-”

“No, it’s…” she chokes on a noise somewhere between a sob and laugh and she shakes her head, “It’s not your fault. It was the right call, I’ve done it before it’s just…that was hard. And I really wish it wasn’t your job to make the call, even though it was the right one.” 

He sighs, familiar guilt filling his lungs, making it momentarily hard to breathe as he looks at his wife, her jaw tight as she avoids eye contact with him, “I wish it wasn’t my job either.” 

“I know,” she nods, her smile strained as she looks at him, “And I know this wasn’t easy on you either,” she adds, “I’ll be okay, honey. I just need to get home and hug the kids,” she says, her chin trembling, “Hold them until I stop imagining them in her place,” she chuckles humourlessly and shakes her head, “But we’re still five hours from home and they’ll be in bed by the time we get back.” 

He watches as she reaches up to fiddle with the necklace he’d bought her last Christmas, two tiny disk pendants with the letters “J” and “A” stamped on them. He can’t hold himself back from touching her anymore and he places his hand on her hip, turning her to face him, a smile he hopes she finds comforting on his face. 

“I know it’s not the same. But, until we get home you could always hug me,” he says, warmth spreading in his chest when a flash of a genuine smile breaks out over her face, “If you want to.” 

She huffs out a laugh and closes the gap between them, wrapping her arms around his neck and sinking into him, something deep inside of her easing slightly when he holds her back just as fiercely, one of his hands firmly on her back whilst he uses the others to run his knuckles up and down her side. She presses her face into his neck and breathes him in, one of her hands shifting to cup the back of his head, her fingers digging into his hair. 

“I always want to hug you,” she says softly, turning her head so her cheek is resting against his shoulder. She sighs contentedly, feeling something close to relaxed for the first time in days, and she smiles when she looks at the cup of tea on the side next to them, steam rising up from it and reaching her nose, the scent of her favourite tea to drink when she was stressed hitting her. She pulls back to look at him, her smile soft as she leans in to kiss him, her lips delicate against his, “Thank you for making my tea.” 

He hears what she hasn’t said, what she won’t say until they are back at their house in the sanctuary they had built there together. No well-meaning friends just on the other side of a thin curtain desperately trying to hear them over the hum of the jet. 

Thank you for loving me.

Thank you for being here. 

Thank you for being you. 

He leans in and kisses her, his hand on her cheek as he holds her close, “Anytime, sweetheart.” 

___

When they get home, she’s up the stairs before he even closes the front door. She toes off her shoes and shrugs off her coat on her way, leaving him to pick them up so she can go and see their children. He does it gladly, not making any gentle teasing comments he usually would about cleaning up after her. 

He didn’t mind, he loved picking up the pieces of her that she’d allow to fall apart around him.

She barely says hello to Jess as they pass on the stairs, and Jess looks up the stairs at her curiously before she walks towards Aaron as the door to Jack’s room briefly opens and then closes. 

“Is she okay?” Jess asks, her brows furrowed as she hugs him. He sighs as he hugs her back and he steps away, looking for her jacket for her.

“It was a case about a missing little girl,” he says, looking upstairs as Jack’s door opens again, only to be quickly followed by Alice’s, “Emily was the one who found her. Alive thank god.” 

Jess winces sympathetically, and takes her jacket from him, “That’s rough.” 

He hums, “Even rougher when you know the little girl is called Alice.” 

She places her hand over her chest after she shrugs her jacket on, “Poor Emily,” she says, looking up the stairs before she looks back at him, “Poor you. Are you okay?” 

He sighs and scratches the back of his head as he thinks about it, “I’ll be okay once I see her. And once I stop feeling guilty about sending Emily into the room she was being kept in first.”

Jess pulls him into another hug, “She understands your job, Aaron,” she assures him, patting his back before she steps away and heads towards the door, “It’s what makes you guys work. You’ll hold this against yourself a lot longer than she will.” 

He hums and puts his hands on his hips, his eyebrow raised at her, “What made you such an expert on human behaviour?” 

She chuckles and winks at him as she opens the door, “I’ve known you most of my life, some of it was bound to stick eventually,” she says as she steps onto the porch, “Get some sleep. Hug your wife. Everything will feel better tomorrow.” 

He nods, “Thanks, Jess.” 

She smiles at him one more time, “Any time.” 

He sighs as she closes the door and he locks it behind her, double-checking the locks out of habit before he steps further into his quiet house. He puts their go-bags in the laundry room and then decides to head upstairs, desperate to see his family. He pops into Jack’s room and sees he’s fast asleep, his covers tucked up around him in a way that lets him know Emily had adjusted them when she came in to see him, the boy well known for wriggling out of them as he slept. He drops a kiss on his forehead, whispers his love against his skin, and then slips back out of the room, not wanting to wake him. 

When he walks into Alice’s room his breath catches in his chest at the sight he’s met with, his two girls fast asleep and wrapped around each other. Emily was pressed up against the wall on top of the covers having climbed in with Alice when she came in to see her, still wearing her clothes from work, curled up so she could fit in the small bed. Alice is pressed against her, her hand loosely tangled in her mother’s shirt, and Aaron can just picture her waking up just enough to realise Emily was there with her before she fell back asleep, comforted by the fact her mother was home. 

Aaron briefly considers waking Emily up, knowing that her back wouldn’t thank her for sleeping in this position in the morning, but he knows she needs this, that their daughter was the comfort she’d been seeking since they’d last seen her. She was an excellent mother, better than she ever gave herself credit for, and he never felt anything less than blessed when he thought about the fact she’d chosen him as the father to her children. 

He briefly walks out into the hallway and pulls a blanket out of the linen closet before he steps back into the bedroom. He lays the blanket over his wife, making sure to tuck it around her so she doesn’t get cold. He kisses the top of Alice’s head, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of her no tear shampoo, and he whispers against her hair. 

“Love you, Princess,” he says, kissing her head again before he turns his attention to his wife, tension in his chest easing when he sees how relaxed she is. He kisses her cheek, “Love you, sweetheart.” 

She grumbles, waking up ever so slightly, “Aaron?” 

“Go back to sleep, baby,” he says, kissing her cheek again, running his fingers through her hair to soothe her, not entirely convinced she was actually awake, her eyes still closed, “You and Alice get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” 

She hums, tightening her hold on their daughter, and he kisses her cheek again as she mumbles just loud enough for him to hear, “Love you.” 

“Love you too, Em.” 

He sleeps fitfully in the big bed all alone, not used to all of the space to himself, for a couple of hours until she comes in, her eyes bleary with a sleeping Alice in her arms as she passes the little girl over to him so she can actually get ready for bed. She smiles gratefully at him as he settles their daughter against his chest and she leans in to kiss him, her lips pressed against his as she silently thanks him again for knowing her, for always knowing what she needed even when she didn’t. 

When she climbs into bed with him, Alice sandwiched between them, they fall asleep quickly. Safe and content in their own home with their daughter with them and their son asleep just down the hall. 

-x-

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[liminalpebble]

If you’re up for something fluffy and/or lighthearted fun - like a month ago I gave another writer I’m following this idea but she‘s been gone since then and I would still love it 🥺

I was in the mood for a Lokitty Fic because it’s been a while and for whatever reason I’min the mood:D If it’s gonna be more fluffy, funny or even angsty is up to you 🫶

Basic idea was Loki disguised as a cat 🐈‍⬛ has been hiding from something/someone in our home. Without him realizing until he’s already in too deep, he starts to fall for us and the way we care for him. Not part of his plan. He hadn’t intended to reveal his identity and surely couldn’t do it now after basically misleading us the whole time.

But what’s been escaping him since as well - we absolutely know. 🤭

A/N: Hey friend! Thanks for this very sweet and fluffy prompt. I accidentally seemed to have made it a multiparter and I have no idea where this is going except definitely to fluff town, and the comfort district. I guess stay tuned? WTF am I even doing??

Much love,

Peb

--

Stray: Part 1

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The rain was tumbling down in heavy sheets as you made your way from the train to your apartment. By now you'd just about memorized how many steps were left from the soaked platform to your door.

The thought depressed you a little, realizing how long you've felt stuck in this life; just another shop girl in the city, a uniform and an apron with a tired person behind it. As the cold water continued to hit you, you were glad to realize the number of steps to the lobby door was finally reaching single digits and picked up your pace in one last jolt of momentum.

Then you heard it; an almost imperceptible mewling under the incessant drumming of the storm. You turned, following the faint noise until you reached the alley and the giant dumpsters housed there. The stench was awful. You held your soaked apron over your nose as you peaked into the crevice. Two of the biggest, most beautiful, aquamarine eyes stared back at you from a void of soaked black fur. It was a cat, and it was absolutely screaming now, realizing it had someone's attention.

It's not like you'd never seen an alley cat before. There were swarms of them around, but there was just something about this one, something so desperately in need of love. The little guy seemed almost confused to be in this position whereas the other strays seemed to resign themselves to their shitty fate.

You braced yourself; tried to talk yourself out of what you knew you were about to do and had never ever done before. It would be incredibly stupid. You weren't even allowed to have pets. You didn't even know if he was sick and you would never have the money to take him to the vet. Regardless, you sighed and scooped the pathetic little creature up, swaddling him in your apron, as you hurried toward the front door. Huffing, you warned him, “Okay buddy, but I swear to god, you better not have rabies.”

-----

Loki was glad to finally be out of the rain and stench, even if it was in a less than ideal form. Several hours earlier he had landed with a crash, cushioned by the heaps of debris. He scoffed realizing his neat black suit and tie and the crisp white shirt were now utterly ruined. His sunglasses were nowhere to be found. The money; all that money that came with him as he dove out of the plane was now safely magicked away, at least.

He groaned pitifully. A fall like that coupled with a mid-air tussle with Thor was enough to floor the younger god, though he hated to admit it. And who was Thor to come after him anyway? This whole D.B. Cooper heist was his fault...all because of that idiotic bet. Loki probably would have laid there feeling very sorry for himself a good deal longer, but he heard the lonely patter of someone running toward him through the downpour. He had to admit he needed help, and it was time for some quick scheming to get it. Good thing this was always his forte.

He had barely accustomed himself to his new feline form and begun mewling loudly when he heard your footfalls slow and watched your shadow move down the alley.

Come on. He thought, imbuing it with the hint of an enchantment. Come find me, mortal.

Loki was incredibly pleased with himself and, frankly, a bit surprised that his ploy worked so easily. Such dull creatures, mortals...such soft hearts., he mused as he dozed in your arms. He was already barely conscious when he heard you quip, “Okay buddy, but I swear to god, you better not have rabies.”

Hey! Rude, he thought, attempting to give a menacing, insulted glare, but it only came out as a grimacing twitch of his whiskers and whining, grumpy, growl.

The human smiled a reluctant little grin and tussled his fur saying, “It's a good thing you're adorable.”

I'm not adorable! I am a god, you dull creature! , he screamed in his mind, but it only left his mouth as another pathetically cute whine.

---

In your bathroom you clipped your wet hair up one-handed and kept the little creature bundled against your chest. Once your hand was free you tested temperature of the bath with a wiggle of your fingers.

Satisfied, you said, “Alright friend,” holding the cat under his armpits and meeting his eyes, as if you could appeal to his sense of logic. “You stink. I have to give you a bath. You can either except your fate with dignity or you can be a little shit and claw my eyes out. I beg you to accept your fate.”

He thought to himself, Why wouldn't I want a bath? I love baths, you idiot. Now clean me, mortal. I tire of....

“Mrewwoooow!” he screamed as soon as his paw hit the warm water. He surprised you and himself as you both flinched violently. Apparently Loki was unable to resist his new feline aversion to water. Okay...okay...this is new. He mused.

“Okay....Christ! Listen here, you little shit! You can either deal with this while I scrub you down with some Herbal Essences, or you can smell like dumpster juice.”

“Meow”

“Yeah. I know...I know it's not the right thing for cats. I know I should take you to the vet first. I know this is not fucking ideal. I'm...I'm doing my best,” you said, with an unexpected hitch in your throat and slightly-welling eyes, as suddenly you both realized you weren't just talking about the bath anymore.

Loki felt an emotion he couldn't quite categorize; one he seldom felt, one others might call sympathy. So he fought his instinct with all his might and remained quiet and while you carefully washed and rinsed his fur. You smiled as your careful hands cleaned every last patch. “Thank you,” you said softly.

My pleasure, he thought, and meant it. It actually did feel very nice to be clean, and if felt even better when you dried him, and wrapped him in a warm towel in front of the space heater, with one bowl of water, and one of tuna. By the time you had showered and settled next to him on the floor in your pajamas, he already had a full belly and was drifting off again in the pleasant warmth. You sipped your tea and stroked his now very glossy and soft black fur.

“See! You're such a handsome boy now that you don't look and smell like wet trash bag. That wasn't so bad, was it?”

From where his head rested on his delicately crossed paws he lazily opened one stunning eye to glare at you menacingly, but it only made you chuckle.

As you laughed and smiled down at him, stroking his fur, he felt something else he couldn't quite name; gratitude, certainly, but also something else...something like wanting desperately to see you smile as much as possible...something like hoping that sorrow he saw a glimpse of before wouldn't eat you alive...something like just wanting you to be okay regardless of the benefit to himself.

The next time he half-awoke in the night, you were gone and the lights were out, though you had left the space-heater on for him. With his now-amplified hearing, he listened for you, anxious to know you were still there. Only once he heard the gentle undulation of your sleeping breath could he relax into dreams again and wonder what tomorrow would bring.

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