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sashaisready · 2 months ago

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Starting Over: Chapter 1 - Betrayal

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, betrayal, mean!Bucky,

Hi! This kinda came outta nowhere lmao. Apologies for the angst, I just needed to do an angsty/sad fic cos I'm in my feels. As always, I appreciate your comments and reblogs. This is a two part series (standalone, not linked to any of my other fics, not the same characters as in Sweet and Sour) second part coming soon...

Wordcount: 3.7k

💔

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me, Doll. After everything we’ve been through? Was it all a lie?”

“Don’t deny it! That’s your voice on the recording! Banner proved your phone was there, it pinged there – we’ve got the proof. Even now you’re lying, you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

You had read about people being too stunned to move or speak, but you always thought it was a little embellished for dramatic effect in books. Surely, you could just push through? Surely shock did not have such a profound effect on your body that it rendered you temporarily paralysed and mute?

But you had calmly walked down the stairs towards the lobby of the house twenty minutes ago and hadn’t moved since. You just stood there now, rigid and dumbfounded, trying to understand how your entire world had just collapsed around you mere minutes beforehand. Now, you got the ‘stunned’ thing. You understood.

The aftershocks of Bucky yelling at you echoed around your head. What had just happened? You’d been sleeping peacefully just before he stormed in your shared bedroom, roaring at you before your eyes had even opened. You’d never seen him like that before. This wasn’t your Bucky, this was work Bucky. The one he’d always worked so hard to keep you from.

Why wouldn’t he listen? What did he mean, the recording? The phone ping? Your skull ached as you tried to make sense of it all. You would never do a thing like that to him. You loved him. You’d die before you purposefully tried to hurt him. Why didn’t he understand that?

You briefly considered going back upstairs, finding him wherever he was in the labyrinth of this house and straightening this whole mess out. Telling him you loved him, and he had to listen. Taking him in your arms, kissing him softly.

But the memory of the look in his eyes, the sheer rage they contained, the hatred that lay there, stopped you.

There was nothing to go back for.

You managed to pull yourself from your paralysis and move towards the hall closet near the front door. Well, it was more like a small room than a closet. An overflow from the walk-in closet just off the master bedroom upstairs. A huge space packed with a selection of Bucky’s jackets and shoes. He liked keeping some of them downstairs, getting the staff to rotate them when he wanted a change. Some of your things sat in there too - a few high-end coats, beautiful shoes.

Correction, past tense - they were yours. Not now.

“You’re a liar! You lied to me…Bet you loved spending my money too, didn’t you? Laughing all the way to bank as you sucked me dry…”

You screwed up your face as the memory of his voice flooded you. He was just so angry…he just wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t believe you…

You pushed it all aside and opened the closet door, darting and shuffling through the combined thousands of dollars at your fingertips - the Dior, the Gucci, the Prada. You knew it was in here somewhere.

Then you spotted a flash of red behind one of the shoe racks in the far corner. There she was.

You moved towards it, grabbing at the red fabric and tugging. It squeezed past the luxury shoes and revealed itself as you pulled it toward you - your faithful red backpack.

A relic of your former self.

No designer labels here, just a bag that had followed you throughout your life - high school, college before you’d dropped out, various apartment moves and vacations. The once-bright crimson colour had faded over time, but it was still sturdy and strong, still TARDIS-like in how much you could pack inside. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the closet against the glamour and opulence.

You knew how that felt.

You unzipped it and dug through the contents. A pair of jeans, a sweater, a couple of T-shirts and your beaten-up old sneakers. Some pairs of underwear and bras. A few other simple garments. All polyblends and cheap textiles. No fancy labels to be found. No fine silks or luxe fabrics that Bucky had liked to spoil you with.

This backpack was all you had to your name when you’d moved in here. Funny how life went in circles, because once again it was all you had now.

At the time Bucky had taken it from you and insisted you throw it away - you wouldn’t need it! He’d buy you a whole walk-in closet full of clothes!

And he did.

A dizzying amount. More than you could ever wear. A mix of designer labels and custom pieces that fit you perfectly. Fine tailoring and exquisite details. Dresses. Blouses. Pants. Jeans. Organic cotton t-shirts. Skirts of every length. Winter coats that had cost the same as two months of your rent in the city. Underwear sets so pretty and delicate that you were almost too nervous to wear them.

And accessories, too. Handbags. Jewellery. Shoes. Oh, the shoes. Heels, flats, boots, sandals, sneakers and slippers. Shoes for fancy parties and shoes for hikes. Shoes for the grand vacations. Shoes for just lounging around the house. Shoes you only wore for sex.

All gone, in an instant.

It didn’t matter, anyway. You always told him you didn’t need any of it. And you weren’t lying. You’d never lied to him, despite what he believed now. You were always happiest in sweats and loungewear, you just liked being comfortable and yourself. You just liked being near him.

At the time you’d talked him round about letting you keeping the backpack - nostalgia, you know? You’d had it years, after all.

But he didn’t think you needed it. That was then, this was now. Why keep an old bag when you could get anything you’d ever want? He’d buy you a hundred backpacks, he said, he’d get your initials embroidered, he’d let you design your own, he’d have your favourite designer make you one - especially for you.

But that wouldn’t be your bag. The bag that had seen everything. Your constant companion.

You persisted. What was one little backpack in a big old house like his? It would take up no space at all. He wouldn’t even know it was there.

He relented eventually, he’d always loved how down to earth and low-key you were. He was fond of your sentimentality. You’d never been interested in his money; you’d kept the love notes he wrote you - not the shopping receipts - but he still liked to spoil you. You deserved it.

Or so he’d told you then. But it was a different story today.

The bag had been hastily stashed here in the closet the first day you moved in and had been there ever since, languishing amongst the Italian tailoring.

Until now.

Part of you wondered if deep down you had always known this day would come. Maybe your gut had sensed it was all too good to be true, and you knew you needed to store a parachute for the inevitable fall.

You sniffed, wiping away the threat of more tears. There would be time for that later.

You looked down at the slip you wore, the slinky, silly nightie thing he’d bought you that you’d worn to bed. Not very practical now you’d be out on the street.

Your brain suddenly switched into survival mode, most likely in an attempt to stop yourself from falling apart, but you couldn’t think about it all now. You needed to find somewhere to stay. And you couldn’t do that in a silk nightdress.

You quickly shrugged the gown off, leaving it in a tangled pool on the floor of the closet and mentally apologising to Martha who would have to pick it up tomorrow. You grabbed the backpack and pulled on the jeans, a bra, one of the tees and the sweater. You rolled the Dollar Tree socks onto your feet. Kicked on the sneakers. It was all a little musty from being folded up in the bag for so long. But it would do.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the closet mirror and gasped. Aside from the wild eyes and tear-stained face, you looked like a version of yourself you hadn’t seen in a long time. Another life.

Hello again.

Next: where to go. The obvious places were Wanda’s or Nat’s homes. And you’d go there. Either would work. Either would welcome you with open arms, being the true friends that they were. Bucky’s betrayal had made you question everything you knew about love, but not the faith in your friends to catch you when you fall. That was unshakeable.

Maybe you could alternate who you stayed with until you got back on your feet, so you weren’t too much of a burden to either. You just couldn’t face either of them tonight, you needed to be alone.

You frantically rummaged through the backpack again until you found what you were looking for at the very bottom. You let out a little yelp of relief.

The battered old wallet had seen better days, but it was hanging on. You opened it up and breathed a sigh of relief that you’d never transferred your driver’s license into the Gucci wallet Bucky had given you on that first day. Thanks, lazy past self. It wasn’t like you’d driven much anyway, not with his all drivers on the payroll and the Uber account he’d loaded onto your phone.

The wallet also contained debit and credit cards you’d never cancelled but hadn’t touched since Bucky gave you your very own black card. It was funny how you used to obsessively count every penny and now you could charge whatever you wanted without a second thought.

Not now, then, you corrected. You needed to get used to your life with Bucky being referred to in the past tense.

“You were working with the feds this whole time, Doll? Is that it? You were all laughing at me? Laughing at how easy it was to let you in? The cute little waitress doing her ‘oh shucks!’ routine, catching me hook, line and sinker?? God I’m such a fucking idiot…”

You stifled a sob, but continued hunting through the wallet.

You thought about your purse sitting out on the side table by the front door. You could take that with you and charge a hotel room it. He probably wouldn’t even notice such a small charge amongst his wealth, and even if he did, he wouldn’t begrudge you a few bucks for a roof over your head for one night. Would he?

No. Enough.

He had ended it. He had implied you were a leech. He didn’t listen, he didn’t trust you. He didn’t believe you. If he truly thought you’d done what he said…he couldn’t ever have loved you. Not really.

No more spending his money, even though you never really felt comfortable doing so anyway. The showdown tonight had confirmed your biggest fears - he’d always resented you for spending his cash. You couldn’t live like that anymore.

Besides, you didn’t want him to know where you were. Not that you thought he’d come after you…but still.

Fortunately, the wallet had a ream of stale bills stuffed in one of the sections. You exclaimed in excitement; you remembered them now. It had been your last day at your waitress job. You’d quit right before you came over to this place to move in, and Lou had given you the rest of the week’s pay plus tips. You had fought him on it, insisting you didn’t need it - but Lou had asked you to take it. For his sake.

“I want you to be happy, hon’,” he’d told you kindly when you had shared your plans. “And I know you’re a smart girl. But you’re getting mixed up with…a different kinda world. A…different kind of guy. You never know when this might come in handy”.

You’d frowned at him at the time, not quite sure what he meant. But as you stood there in the closet clutching the cash, you sent him a silent thank-you for his foresight. God bless Lou. He was exactly right.

You shoved the money and the wallet back into the red bag and moved from the closet into the hallway. The house was completely silent. If Bucky knew you hadn’t left yet, he’d made no effort to stop you. You admitted that a tiny part of yourself had hoped he’d come after you and admit he’d made a terrible mistake.

But he wasn’t coming.

You slung the backpack over your shoulder as you headed to the front door. As your hand curled around the handle, you turned and took one last look at what had been your first real home. What you’d hoped would be your last home.

You looked over at your phone which you’d tossed onto the dresser next to the closet in your panic. You briefly pondered taking it, but it wasn’t yours anymore. You’d buy a burner in the morning and get a new cell plan once you were back on your feet.

Wow. You were surprising yourself with this pragmatism. But you also knew you were hanging on by a thread.

But the fact was - you’d survived before Bucky, and you’d survive after him, too. You always kept going. You’d been dirt poor before, you could do it again. You’d been alone before, too. You’d been alone most of your life.

You could do it again.

‘Tenacious’ - that’s what Nat had called you once. You weren’t sure if you agreed with her at the time, but now you wanted to prove her right. You wanted to be the person she believed you to be.

You already knew it would be much harder now, as you’d had a taste of the other side. How the other half live, as they say. Before, you didn’t know any different - you didn’t know what you were missing. Now you absolutely did. Not just the money…the comfort…but being cared for, being loved.

On some level, you’d always known this wasn’t going to be your happy ending. You knew deep down that the house of cards would eventually fall, because it always did.

You just wished you weren’t always right.

You opened the door and stepped out into the dark.

💔

You walked for thirty minutes towards the city. Bucky lived on the outskirts and most of the journey had been leaving his estate along the single, winding road that led up to his property. None of his men paid you any mind. Not the ones with guns pitched up along the perimeter. Not those waiting in cars half a mile from his house, keeping an eye out for any potential threats as they did every night. They all knew who you were, so word must’ve spread fast. Otherwise they would’ve been falling over themselves to check on you and find out why the boss’ girl was out walking by herself at this time.

You wondered if Steve or Sam had put a message out on the comms. ‘They’re over. Don’t worry about her anymore’ or words to that effect. Something cold but concise. That’s how this operation worked.

You’d developed friendships with some of these men. Chatted to them and even brought them coffee when they kept watch on cold nights. You would watch then from the windows and tell Bucky you were worried about how freezing it was out there, and he’d laugh it off and say it was part of their job and they were fine. But they were always grateful when you came out with a thermos, always told you how much it meant to them.

All of it forgotten in an instant, you were disposable as anything else in Bucky’s empire. You understood that now. Just like when he wanted a new car or a new watch, he’d toss away the old model - then find himself something newer and shinier.

You walked a little further as signs of civilisation starting to appear and Bucky’s acres of land disappeared behind you. A gas station. A boarded-up strip mall. You were a little frightened walking alone by yourself, but the sheer adrenaline your situation propelled you forward.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you eventually found a tired-looking Holiday Inn up ahead. A few of the lightbulbs on the neon sign were out, meaning it spelled out H LIDAY INN. A leaky drainpipe dripped a steady stream of water over the entrance. Oh dear.

But it would do for now.

You took a deep breath as you went inside and checked in at the front desk, paying for a basic room with your waitress cash. The disinterested receptionist gave you the key card and sighed with boredom, barely looking at you as she barked the directions to your room and resumed Candy Crush on her phone. She didn’t seem surprised to see a lone woman turning up in the middle of the night, arriving to a roadside hotel on foot, paying for two nights in crumpled bills. She didn’t even ask to see your ID. That all gave you a pretty clear idea of what the staff were used to here.

You passed an ancient-looking PC that guests could use, which surprisingly, as it looked like it was last updated for Windows 95, had WiFi. You made a mental note to log on tomorrow to message Wanda and Nat on social media and fill them in …and hopefully get one of them to come pick you up.

You grabbed some chips and soda from the vending machines then walked towards the elevators. Not quite the glamorous dinner you’d become accustomed too, but it would do. For now.

You hit the button to call the elevator as you slumped against the wall, the exertion of your long walk and the evening finally catching up with you. The elevator creaked and spluttered but it finally got you to your floor.

You scanned your keycard and swung the room door open, dumping your backpack and snacks onto the wood-veneer desk before flinging yourself onto the double bed. The no-frills basics were worlds away from the fancy hotels you were used to staying in with Bucky, but it was clean and comfortable. And most important of all, it was private.

“Just get the fuck out. We’re done here so save your tears. Over. Finito. I don’t need some liar in my bed, being sweet to my face then sticking a knife in my back – then not even having the guts to admit to it when she’s caught red-handed”.

Finally alone, you allowed yourself to weep. To mourn the end of your relationship and the man you thought Bucky was, versus the man he turned out to really be. To grieve, to bid farewell to the life you thought you had (and would continue to have) with him, and the way you thought he saw you. It wasn’t just about losing him and tarnishing your memories, it was also grieving for a future and a life you thought you were going to have.

“I don’t care. You’ll figure something out, sweetheart. You’re just lucky this is all I’m doing after everything you’ve pulled…”

Large, wracking sobs took over your body as you curled up on the hotel bedspread and allowed yourself to feel it all. You ate the chips and drank the soda, barely tasting either. You turned on the TV and let the black and white movie on the one working channel serve as background noise. Fatigue eventually swam over you, smothering you like a weighted blanket.

Soon there were no tears left and the well had finally run dry. Mercifully, sleep finally came for you, and you gave into it without a fight.

And you slept. And slept.

💔

Bucky was at his desk looking at paperwork when Steve came back into his home office. He was doing his best to ignore the nauseating rush in his gut, trying his hardest not to think about you and the way your face had crumpled as he confronted you. Most likely it was just your guilt, anyway.

“Barton said the shipment arrived right on schedule, everything accounted for,” Steve advised as he poured himself a shot of bourbon from the small bar setup in the corner of the office. “And Sam’s out at the shipyard, running through the plan with Rumlow”.

He was desperate to address the elephant of the room and ask Bucky how he was holding up, but Bucky had previously insisted nobody bring your name up. So he didn’t.

“Good,” Bucky replied curtly. “And Stark?”

“All on board. Said we can iron out the details next week”.

“Perfect, thanks”.

Steve nodded, downing the last of his glass as he placed it on the ornate tray and headed to the door.

“Oh, and Steve?” Bucky called out to him.

“Yeah, Buck?” He turned to face his friend.

“Do you….you uh know…where she went? After…what happened?” He asked, the tiniest hint of hesitation in his otherwise firm tone. Most people wouldn’t have spotted it, but most people didn’t know Bucky like Steve did.

Steve shook his head, “No, Buck. Some of the men saw her leaving on foot a little while ago”.

Bucky swallowed but his face betrayed no emotion, “On foot?”

“Yeah. I guess she didn’t have a lot of options…” Steve shrugged.

Bucky nodded, “Yeah…I guess I just assumed she’d book a cab…or call one of her friends…” he said wistfully as he looked back down at the papers across his desk.

“She left her phone. Scott found it by the front door, next to her purse. I’m not sure she took anything with her, actually,” Steve mused.

Bucky frowned, “No…phone? No…money?”

Steve shrugged, “I don’t think so. But that’s good, right? You said yourself she was probably just playing a long-con to get your money too…”

Bucky’s gaze dropped back to the desk, his grip on the fountain pen he was holding tightened, the nib shaking from the force of his strength.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asked tentatively as he watched the way the pen shook.

Any hint of vulnerability was immediately snuffed out as Bucky’s eyes snapped back to Steve.

“Of course. Fine. Let me know what Sam says”.

Steve nodded, “Right. I’ll call him now”.

As Steve closed the door, the pen snapped in Bucky’s hand.

#mob!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #starting over fic

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j4desblurbs · 3 months ago

Note

i needed “kisses on the nose” from the prompt list with logan, like, yesterday

give me my soft man!!

LOVE’S PERFECT ACHE

yes i got the title from a hozier song

summary: logan gets mad at you, and makes it up to you.

warnings: i made this angsty but other than that, no warnings

word count: 1.3k

logan had been acting cold ever since lunch.

curt responses, no petnames, a bit more sarcasm than he would usually use for you. all of these things pointed to something that was your fault.

no matter how much you wracked your brain, you couldn’t think of anything you’d done to make him angry.

it’s not until he walks into your shared room a couple hours later that you find the answer.

“wanna tell me what that was back there?” he says, causing you to look up from your book.

“what?” your eyebrows furrow. what on earth is he talking about?

“with scott. at lunch. talking to him like that?”

you feel like you’ve missed a chapter.

“logan,” you huff out his name with a confused laugh. “what are you talking about?”

“hand on his arm like that? laughing your ass off? what’d he say that was so damn funny, hm?” logan seethes.

you think back to your interaction with scott earlier in the day. it was just like any other time the two of you have spent time together. you weren’t entirely sure what was so alarming about enjoying the company of your friend and teammate.

but then you remembered logan has a temperament, an extreme distaste of scott, and a jealous streak like nobody’s business.

“logan,” you sigh. “it wasn’t like that at all. i was just laughing at a joke he made.”

he scoffs, his tone condescending. “yeah, right.”

you bristle at that. he almost never talks down to you like this. suddenly, a pocket of anger bubbles into your chest. before you know it, you hear yourself saying:

“funny, i never acted like this while you flirted with jean.”

logan stops cold.

“i never flirted with jean.” he says, plain and simple.

you scoff. if there was anything you hated, it was being treated like you were dumb.

“don’t,” you warn. “don’t do that.”

“do what, sugar?” his tone is condescending, demeaning. it brings the beginning of tears to your eyes.

“don’t pretend like i don’t know.” you blink, trying to hold back your tears, but one falls and makes its way down your cheek.

logan falters. he hadn’t meant to make you cry.

“honey-“ he tries, but you brush him off by holding up your hand without another word.

it’s only after you make it to the first empty room you find that you allow yourself to break down. ———————————————————————————

for the rest of the day, logan isolates himself, staying in your room as the hours tick by.

he was never the best at communicating.

by all means, he was trying. he really was, but it was just so goddamn hard sometimes. he could never get the words right and often ended up causing even more damage to whatever situation he’d fucked up in the first place.

he knew you weren’t doing anything with scott, of course he did. but some part of him deep inside couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t enough for you, or someone bad for you. so, when his worst fear was even remotely realized, he lashed out in ugly ways.

logan lets out a sigh. why’d he have to fuck this up? he had never meant to make you cry. it was the last thing he’d ever want. all he’s ever wanted was to give you the love you deserve. to protect you. never to hurt you.

and he couldn’t even do that.

he gets up, putting out his cigar. it was about time he stopped wallowing in his self pity and started looking for you so he could apologize.

he does end up finding you, in a small room off the gym. logan’s heart cracks when he sees you, curled up against the corner, knees to your chest, eyes red.

what had he done?

he says your name, and his chest tightens even more when you visibly bristle at the sound of his voice. the sight’s almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

logan strides over, kneeling next to you. his hand is warm and strong when he places it on your back, but your body still tenses when you feel his touch.

“have you been here the whole time, bub?” his voice is soft, his familiar scent of tobacco and leather and pine enveloping you and making you almost give in and bury yourself in his arms.

almost.

you give him an almost imperceptible nod of your head, not wanting to speak just yet.

really, you didn’t trust yourself to not burst into tears the second you tried.

he sighs, shifting his position so that he’s in front of you. his hand gently pulls your chin up to make you look at him, his thumb wiping away the tear tracks down your face.

seeing how red your eyes are makes his heart do a slow twist in his chest. he had done this to you. and he wasn’t sure he knew how to fix it.

“i’m sorry.” his voice is quiet, gravelly. “i didn’t mean any of it, honey.”

you finally force yourself to meet his eyes, blinking slowly. he was lying. you knew it, could feel it.

logan rarely said anything he didn’t truly mean.

“i know you did. i know you meant it.” you say, the weak, broken tone of your voice hurting him even more.

“i want to explain. believe me. but i just can’t put what i’m feeling…..together. into words.” logan looks down, his mind racing. he was never good at expressing his feelings, and he was most certainly going to fuck it up if he did it without thinking it out.

“maybe you could try.” your voice, low and cracking slightly from lack of use, breaks him out of his thoughts.

he lets out a soft breath, unsure of how to explain himself. he owes it to you to try. to have what might possibly be the world’s most uncomfortable conversation if it meant that you didn’t loathe him like you did right now. for everything you do for him, it’s the very least he can do for you.

“you mean a lot to me, darlin. a lot more than it might seem. so when i see you talking to another man, happy with another man,” he trails off, a lump forming in his throat. “it hurts me. because every day i doubt that i’m the right one for you. every day i’m terrified that you’ll get tired of me, of us, and leave.”

as he talks, you slowly start to open up, pulling your knees away from your chest and wiping the remnants of your tears away from your face. your hands find his face, cupping his cheeks as you get onto your knees to reach him.

“logan.” your tone is firm. “why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

seeing the man you love, normally so tough and headstrong, almost curl into himself is a strange sight to stomach. logan seems small like this, not because of the way he’s crouched in front of you, but because of the palpability of his fear.

he clears his throat before he speaks, his voice soft. “i didn’t know how to say it.”

his hands come to rest on your waist, pulling you against him into a hug. he rests his chin on the crown of your head, one palm sliding up to rest on your back.

as you reciprocate the hug, you feel the tension melt away from his body, his arms tightening slightly around you as the thought clicks in his head: you still wanted him.

“i’m sorry, baby.” logan whispers into your hair. “i’m so sorry.” he pulls you away from him a little, kissing your forehead, then your cheeks, and finally your nose, resting his forehead against yours afterward.

you close the gap, pressing your lips to his, tasting faintly of tobacco and coffee. he kisses you back with equal gentleness. it’s a sweet, soft kiss that you both melt into.

you relish in the fact that you’ll have many more kisses just like these.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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pierofilm · 1 year ago

Text

Did I, A Side Character Became the Male Lead's Wife?!

2023 | 13+ | ONESHOT | YANG JUNGWON × READER | -> PART 2

SUMMARY you — a side character in a royal novel doing absolutely nothing but enjoy your rich ass yet boring life, only watching over the female lead and doing your job in protecting her, only for a pair of kittenish eyes to fall not upon the female lead but on you, unfortunately.

AUTHOR'S NOTE not me writing a whole ass oneshot at 5am bcs of that sweet ask from that one anon, imma name u serotonin dopamine anon lmao- and jungwon bae u r truly my muse.. also inspired by sum manhwas cuz I binge read 90+ chapters in less than a day 💀💀💀 plus happy 900+ followers for me <333 mom wake up I'm famous even tho I'll never let u know what my secret writing blog is about 😊😊

a side character, how cute?

well, you only came to know of this very horrible (not really) fact that you're nothing close to a main character's vibes cause look at you babe, where's the sparkling shiny starry dust on you as you walked through the red carpet at the ball?

and did they even spare a glance at you? unfortunately, nope. because the female lead, Liz; was your enemy, at least in how your character was written in the novel by the goddamn author which was you.

yes, that's right!

you, a hella introverted author dwelling in the deepest corner of her room doing nothing but spent an ungodly amount of hours creating the perfect and enchanting characters after crying for major character death of a fic a few years ago. wiping your dripping tears off your cheeks in a comical way as you pull open your laptop and risk your 20/20 vision for life, just so you can reverse the aching pain in your chest that you wore a thick ass glasses now.

Liz, the female lead. Swooning over her was your religion, throwing not one but a ten whole buckets explaining how perfect she was—or how tremendously kind she was, delicate and utterly sweet. patting yourself on the back for creating such a goddess of a character, so it's only wise for you to give her a fitting male lead, right? Okay we'll talk about that later since it's about you right now.

So how did you end up in your novel? Well, because of one fateful day of you doing absolutely nothing but taking a goddamn rest, and whoever the god in heaven that just randomly decided to throw you in the novel you wrote yourself—must be utterly insane. Perfect indeed!

it took you a humongous realisation to see yourself in a dark green puffy dress that represents jealousy, envy, and betrayal—which also represents the side character standing behind the female lead on the thick cover of your book. you've originally written her as that wicked best friend that uses her seductive way of speech to seduce men, and at last turning her back at the female lead by accusing her of a horrendous crime.

her fatal fate consists of her head being snapped by the guillotine, unfortunately. but for you, not really, cause you are so in for destroying wicked characters but jokes on you—you're now in the body of that character.

pfft, can't the gods put you in a character that lives near the sea, with your straw hat on and as you drank your lemon juice away from the public drama, angsty dialogues, cringe moments you yourself have created because you don't have atleast an ounce of social skills that's why you pour it all on your characters.

"oh my apologies, milady— pfft—" three ladies sticking with each other like a super glue, had thrown the glass of wine on the female lead's gown—earning a series of gasps from everyone who saw but you were sure won't pay an ounce of consideration towards her as you had written almost everyone in this novel as "the world against the weak, fragile character."

oh, right. the hyena laughters of those you describe in episode 3 of "the flashy ball"; the three evil sisters, because why not? they added the extra spices in your tongue to the point you couldn't wait for them to get slap by the female lead or possibly someone.

ah, the tremendous satisfaction.

and you were one of that person whose hands itching to smash their skull apart, you cringed enormously at them as they were the ones that brought total trouble wherever they went or whoever are unlucky enough to get in their way. unfortunately, you seal your female lead's fate with them as she need some little obstacles, doesn't she?

you as hell were not sure what you're supposed to do, whether to just let things happen as the story goes or you do the male lead's job in protecting the female lead cause you have no idea why is he taking such a long time to appear, when he should've made his grand entrance at the freaking introduction?

and you wrote it that way cause you got fed up with male leads making their first appearance at the ball, and somehow quickly gaining the female lead's heart like Cinderella cause dear lord where's the slow burn?

just say, you're a conservative grandma type of a mindset or that you are skeptical over love at first sight. yep, you're right. that's why you ain't gonna let your precious female lead get bullied in front of your very eyes. she's like your granddaughter right now, seriously.

a shriek echoed through the entire ball, gaining everyone's attention. "oh my god! my dress! you— lady Liz! who did you even brought with you?!"

oh right, you forgot it's your first time at the ball either. "my apologies, milady. it's just that i saw a bunch of hyenas roaming around.." you rubbed the back of your neck.

"hyenas?! guards—"

"chill, what's the commotion here?" a bright dashing blonde haired man in a red royal suit came around, with sets of stars dusting upon his form which you already realise to be part of the main characters but unfortunately you forgot. you ain't having that extra superhuman memory just because you are an author.

the bunch of hyenas before you reasoned with the prince, but you slowly realise that the prince was none other than Prince Jake. Inspired by that one puppy image idol from fourth generation of kpop, you were apparently slurping your noodles in the local restaurant when you watched him imitating a dog from the tv, causing you to choke on your noodles.

it's safe to say, he's hot enough that he had to be part of your main characters. aah, that signature dashing smile of his as he defended the female lead with his wisely chosen string of words which immediately melted everyone's heart at sight.

times like this you wish you were actually the female lead, but the logical side of you beg to differ; you are not emotionally capable of spewing cringy romantic words for that's only reserved for writing. So thank you, i'll pass.

Surely, Prince Jake ain't the male lead for your precious female lead but you just let them converse with each other despite her with her absolute kindness, urging you to talk with them too, atleast a word. it sort of felt for a moment like she was trying to match you with the prince.

like no please, you'd rather not to. hot guys are hot, but they're not worth the emotional investment past the fangirling section.

plus the prince doesn't seem interested you as he doesn't spare not even one look at you which obviously you couldn't care any less, you sneakily went out the ball after a series of mishaps—for example your heavy puffy ass gown with its sole purpose to only look pretty but the reality ain't that pretty to say the least, panting like a dog as you took each step towards the entrance all while cussing yourself for ignoring your logical part of brain that you shouldn't have been adding humongous useless words to describe the gown just to make it sound extremely pleasing to the readers.

now you're the one to bear the consequences of your own writing, the fuck.

"one! two!—" a long, long, depressing sigh echoes. "three! ah!—" consequently falling upon your face, what a perfect day indeed. you just wanted to go home, tuck yourself in your comforting blanket, eat your hot cup of ramen or indulge yourself in the sea of chocolate while daydreaming of your favourite idols and fictional characters.

not this awful disaster of you getting tangled in the courts' affairs.

"i suppose, you need help, milady?"

oh no, certainly not. don't call me milady, pretend i do not exist for i certainly do not have the social skills to pretend that i like you, or form a decent conversation especially with men.

"milady?"

you curled yourself, burying your head into the comfort of your gowns. wondering quite a bit of how odd you look in the middle of the hallway.

"milady?" his voice-like whisper came closer, obviously standing beside you right now. "are you okay?"

fuck it. "please, i beg of you to kindly leave me alone as my day has been utterly ruined and—" oh wait, he seems oddly familiar. those lush fluffy hair and kittenish orbs that only softens among those he were close enough.

prince jungwon.

oh! the male lead, oh my god! your jaw hang so low it fell on the ground, your eyes sparkled in dozens of star like universe as you took in his marvelous beauty that you had spent creating meticulously after studying all the '101 rules of how to create the perfect male lead that had the readers heart evaporating & a huge ass green forest that certainly would cause blazing flames'.

"oh my god! you look absolutely gorgeous, i've done it really well didn't i?! oh my god!"

"o-oh—! absolutely, you did well!" he immediately replied back, pressing his lips tight nervously.

wait what? what did he say? oh shit, oh well, covering your mouth instantly as you accidentally let it out before the prince, your precious male lead that you solely created for the female lead. "i—.."

the prince, your very precious character—obviously taken aback with a slight blush dusting of his adorable cheeks as he raise his fist up to his lips, coughing a couple of seconds. a personality trait you very well are familiar of cause that's how you wrote him when he fall in love with the female lead.

your eyes ogled out at that familiar sight, screaming at the back of your mind—wait, wait! you're not supposed to fall in love with me, you idiot! go back! go inside the ball, she's inside there!

"that's oddly brave of you, milady. i'd certainly go as far as to say that i've never seen such traits from a lady." kitten eyes softening at you, crouching down as he lend both of his hands for you. you raised your eyebrow confusingly at what is he trying to pull at but you realise he was intending to get you up.

"u-uhm? uh, sorry. i could get up on my own, actually." yeah, that's what you did. pushing yourself back up despite his protests because you ain't gonna let him fall any further for you, nah uh, not in this life, your mission is to get him and your female lead together inside the frames of birds holding flower wreaths as they went on to their happily ever after.

not with you!

"may i have the honour to know your name, though, milady?" why the fuck isn't he leaving, what is there so interesting in you that he is still standing here asking you such generic questions.

you shouldn't be having the characters attention on you as you obviously wrote it that way, and that even though your character in the novel had tried to get the prince's heart, despite resorting to foul actions, that he never truly had been attracted to her despite this characters' seductive aura.

for you squealed so loud at the scene you wrote, with jungwon putting her in her place. "you are not her, and you would never be her." along with the bunch of your readers hosting a flamboyant celebration under the comments, screaming over how loyal he was.

so what in the actual fuck is this?

"you don't need my name." you nonchalantly answered.

"my apologies?"

"you see, my best friend is in the ball—" you gestured your hands to the entrance of the ballroom, "and she needs your help more than i do."

"wait? why would she need my help?" his eyebrows knitted together in utter confusion as you pushed him through his back.

"of course, she do! don't ask anything!"

"wait!— my name is!" he forcefully turn to face you again, but you immediately covered his mouth with your hands—kabedonning him against the wall.

an excruciating silence occured between you two in the silent hallway, Jungwon freezing to his core when your other hand shoot beside his head.

"listen i don't need your name, dear sir." you emphasise each word, you certainly don't need to know his name nor his status as a prince, not wanting to risk any possible connection with him judging by how he acted before you just now.

"b-but!" his words were muffled into the void as you cupped his mouth tighter.

"shh, shh. stop talking and listen, will you?!"

jungwon nodded slowly, what an odd situation he was in right now, he thought. but somehow he likes it.

"so first step, is go inside the ballroom. second, look for the lady in pink gown, and third—"

"t-third?"

"third is tell her your name! my best friend needs it more than i do!" you release him from your grasp as you went to swing open the huge double door, "now go!" waving a goodbye before kicking his body through the entrance, pulling the door back with your entire strength despite his protests.

oh of course, you finally let out a gag after suppressing it in front of him the entire time as you've never had a proper conversation with a male without stuttering, somewhat a sad tragedy for you, unfortunately. you felt quite guilty about your readers who swoon over the romances you wrote between your leads, weeping over how you're so good at it—not knowing you're a complete introvert with only a gigantic ass dictionary with you.

finally, the male lead and female lead's romances are about to start! you squealed with your hands clasping as you went on your way to the carriage, gesturing for the rider to embark on the way to your heavenly puffy manor with the widest big grin ever that it had him questioning you, "has any gentleman had caught your heart, milady? a couple of hours ago, you were often beyond distraught to attend the ball but insisted when you heard Lady Liz was going."

"oh, you silly." you giggled as you swayed your hand, "of course, that's one of the reasons. but there's another one.."

"may i ask what is it, then?"

you leaned in closer, urging him to get closer as you whispered. "i got the chance to become a Cupid!"

"a Cupid?" you squealed before the old man, hopping like a child for quite awhile before flying into the carriage much to his surprise, but only shook his head in amusement—appalled by how his mistress had changed so much.

"so?" you couldn't help yourself from pulling out the widest eccentric grin at the female lead, extremely curious and ecstatic over what romances had bloom between her and Jungwon.

Liz raises her eyebrow in confusion, "so?.. what do you mean, milady?"

you shrugged, falling back to your seat as you raise your eyebrow in a comical way, "that.." whispering ever so seductively, "prince."

"p-prince?

"yes!" the teacup rattles at your excitement oozing so much that you tapped the table a couple of times. "what happen? what's the tea~"

she lets out a soft giggle, a bit amused by your excitement. "i have no idea what you're trying to imply, milady."

"wait? what are you saying? didn't the prince went to you last night?"

Liz shook her head slowly, her expressions clearly stating that she absolutely don't know what and who you were talking about as a smile pulled up on her lips once again, taking a few sip from her teacup.

veins popped out from your neck as it dawned on you, your head snapped towards the castle on top of the mountain, you stupid of a prince! you cussed at him endlessly at the back of your mind, tightening your fist as your ears and nose fuming in anger. how dare he? he didn't listen to you at all? what in the actual fuck? would this somehow divert the original route? a dozen question arise into your mind one after another, causing you to let out an exaggerated sigh.

facepalming yourself as you imagined the imaginary heavenly light on top of you, weeping to yourself about how tremendously unlucky you are to have a hard headed male lead. it's impossible, you have never added a trait so irritating like this in his profile so how could this happen?

"milady?" the gentle voice of your precious female lead pulled you out of your inner desperation, you leaned in closer, whining so much over how unlucky you were and such, the rest only being in your mind as you pouted.

"ah, i remember now, the prince—"

"WHAT?—" you immediately seated yourself after giving her a potential heart attack, "my apologies, what did you actually.. remember?"

"i assume you were talking about the prince from yesterday? prince jake?"

"no not that bitch— oh certainly not him, ehem.." you took a couple of exaggerated coughs, avoiding her evident confusion. "isn't there a prince.. name jungwon with you that night?"

"oh my goodness! right! prince jungwon!" she shook her head in disbelief with her finger on her head.

right, how did you even forgot that the female lead in front of you had a "weak ass memory" in her profile description. tsk tsk, truly a forgetful author you are. you should be trying your best to remember the things you wrote before and revise it as best as you can, to avoid any possible problems in the future, atleast.

"right, how did i even forget, the prince asked me for your name, milady—"

"huh?" you look at her with confusion, as you were out of reality a couple of seconds ago. your orbs terribly widened as her words slowly sinking in to your brain. "HUH?"

ask your name?! why your name, why not hers?! what did the prince ate that night before stumbling onto your way that he had to ask for your name before the female lead—his own lover?!

laughing awkwardly, you raise your leg on top of another as you nervously swayed your hands repeatedly. "oh dear, oh dear. you might have heard it wrong, the prince?—" snorting outloud as you gestured to yourself, "asking for my name? what a funny news!"

"i didn't, milady. the prince came to me and asked me for your name, as he was immensely curious of who you are so i—"

"so what?—" you can't believe this, you really can't bring yourself to believe any words she was uttering. you should have been bestowed by the news that the prince had taken an interest in her, a hand in marriage, or anything, anything as long as you're out of the picture! "y-you didn't tell him my name, d-didn't you?"

"of course, i did!" exclaimed she did with the widest grin ever.

why are you so freaking happy over this?! clasping your head in your hands as you tragically fall on your knees causing the lady to gasp in shock, ushering to your side to get you up.

"milady?! what's wrong?"

"d-dear," you pouted as you look up to her, "you didn't tell him where my manor's at, r-right?"

she simply replied, "i did? the prince informed me that he's going to send a letter for you to be his partner to the ball."

an imaginary arrow struck back to your heart, forming a humongous hole that threatens to give you a panic attack. what? what in the actual fuck? did you accidentally did something to divert the original story you yourself created? but you didn't even do anything! you tried to do your best to keep the interaction with him as short as possible and he dared to take an interest in you?!

"milady, a letter from the royal palace had arrived for you."

"discard it. throw it. keep it away from my sight."

"milady?!" Liz and the head of the maid exclaimed in utter shock at your nonchalant answer.

"forget about it, forget about it." you clasped your forehead in utter disappointment, yet your brain were creating another plan b for this unexpected turn of events. what should you do? even more so, what would you do now that the prince had asked for you to be by his side to the ballroom?

this won't do, you won't let this happen—you had to look as unattractive and ugly as possible for him to cringe on and finally divert his attention back to the rightfully person who deserved it; the female lead.

your maids could only fall apart every single time you pluck out the enchanting gems they attached on your hair, ears and wrists. their efforts deemed futile as always as you had no mood for any sort of events, it was like a slap to their face as you initially weren't like this. you overheard them that they couldn't get used to how you were adamant in staying behind the spotlight as you often did your very best in dressing yourself up before, with the sole intention of gaining the favour of men and even more better, a prince.

of course, they are totally oblivious to your real identity. only a series of jaw gaping one after another with your change of character, at first—you had a dilemma over whether you should act like the character you created but you later scrap the idea as soon as the anxiety of being engulfed in the crowd suffocated your chest. opting to avoid as many as balls or public events as possible, but that obviously didn't work out that well since you heard of the female lead's arrival from the country side—just like you intended it to be.

and being the proud mother (writer) you are, of course why wouldn't you take one single look at her and see of how far she had came? but alas, one interaction leads to another one and so on—till finally, you became her best friend throughout her entire journey. waiting for the male lead's arrival, and watch their romances blooming and per se—but oh well, look at the situation you were in right now; total disaster.

you truly despise being in such an extravagant puffy gown and the numerous accessories hugging your skin, it's tremendously uncomfortable that you wanted to rip it off part in front of the prince standing before you right now, and right here.

asking for your hand to dance with that odd kittenish smile, that you swore you had never ever written in his personality profile; he should never have been this casual and chill over a person he had just met. he should've been cold as fuck, icy to touch, and a spiralling disaster if you dare to talk to him, so why?

plus how could he have taken an interest in you? you couldn't possibly have added a dose of the love at first sight trope, didn't you? you despised that trope to your very core.

"milady? may i?" he extended his hand before you, patiently waiting for your answer.

you had decided that you're going to reject him quick and efficient—just like the local fast food restaurant your mouth kept drooling over for, smashing a five star review for their inhuman speedy delivery.

"you see, prince jungwon. i have no desire to have a connection with you, a relationship, as a matter of fact."

he raised his eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by your bold words. "i'm curious milady, why so? have i done something that perhaps had annoyed you?"

cliché question, you loathe that. "what if i said you did?"

"then tell me, milady. i'll try my hardest to own up to you—" he took a steps forward, which causes you to immediately step back as well with a frown on your face. you can't, not in this life, to even give him a single chance to get close to you. nah uh.

"no need, and stay one meter apart, please." you pointed your index finger towards the floor and he hesitated, but complied immediately.

"i." you raise your index finger back to yourself and then at him, "don't like you. do you understand?"

"b-but?"

"stop questioning me, prince jungwon." you stayed firm in your spot, "i believe it's a common decency to step back when a lady had voiced out her opinion, a prince like you certainly would understand, am i right?"

Jungwon was clearly taken aback, the fact that you didn't give him a single chance to utter a word nor take a step closer was a hard punch to his face. It feels as if he was trying to reach for you, but you efficiently dodged it with ease. It kind of.. annoys him.

"base on how you didn't say anything anymore, i assumed we're done here! well then, goodbye prince jungwon." you turned your heels towards the entrance, not bothering to waste any time at this goddamn ball. "i hope this will be the very last." you scoffed inside your mind, eager for the story to return to it's original route, and that the prince would soon deem you useless and such—returning to the female lead's arms.

hm, now where's your precious female lead? she should've appeared right now and right here, strike the pot while it's hot!

"i'm afraid i can't back down that easily, milady." jungwon took a few steps forward, wrapping his hand round your wrist as he spun you around to face his eyes filled with blazing determination. one that you specifically added on top of his profile so that your readers would kept it in mind.

your breath hitched down your throat as you remembered there's only two reasons he could have this; one that reminds you when he was at war, shouting at the top of his voice to encourage his soldiers as they push through the enemies, and another reason of it appearing is when he have to get what he wanted, or else all hell will break loose, chaos will ensue.

right, you're truly an idiot. staying a few years in this novel without any memories, and only for it to surface back when you stumble upon the library—dozens of books flickering a series of eccentric images in your mind. It had cause you to lose all memories of important details, only emerging everytime you are presented with a situation you couldn't comprehend. such as when you forgot that the female lead had memory problems and such.

"i'll only present this choices to you, milady. since you tremendously intrigued me over how well spoken you were and fascinating indeed—" bitch, you don't even know how you had the sudden ability to confront him but you were just sure as hell that you don't want to ruin your own novel. no fucking way.

you can't let him have the upper hand on you.

"let me go." irritated to your core, you tried untangle Jungwon's tight grasp on your wrist but he won't budge even an inch which only had you fuming in anger. "i said let me go, bitch!"

the crowd emits a series of gasps and murmurs as you spun around—twisting the prince's arms which had him yelping in pain, and ultimately pinning him onto the ground. with rage consuming you that nothing was going in your way, you slammed your hands on the both side of his head. clenching your jaw and gritting your teeth as you emphasised each word. "you are one a dumb hell of a bitch, when i said i do not want to see you anymore. i mean it. so—"

"so what?" his smug look resurfaces, one that emerges whenever he was being challenged. yes, do that! he should despise you, not take an interest in you! he should loathe you so much that he can't even gaze at you for a second. excitement surged through your veins as you open your mouth, preparing for the last blow.

"so, get lost. just because you're a prince doesn't mean every girl would fall for you, idiot."

an even more louder gasp emits from the crowd as they clearly heard what you said, their jaw gaping and some covering their mouths with their hands as their mind are now bombarded with random questions over how exceedingly brave you are to insult the royal prince, and of what fate will you met now that you've done such an atrocious act.

a low giggle sent shivers down your spine, and goosebumps to riled over your neck as you realise the prince under you had the widest smirk on his face. you frowned deeply, he shouldn't be smirking! he should be fuming in anger and throwing you out of the palace at this moment. so why?!...

"oh milady, how truly fascinating you are." you let out a loud yelp when he grabbed both of your wrists, pulling you closer to his face—a dangerous close proximity against his fluttering eyelashes and lips that your breath caught up in your throat which causes your cheeks to heated up in embarrassment of what kind of position you two were in right now. "i like you, you would certainly be a perfect fit to be by my side."

"what?!" you exclaimed, jaws dropping and eyes about to pop out at his very words. "i don't want to be by your side—"

"a lady like you, i'm afraid to say, intrigues me very much..." Jungwon shots a kittenish wink right through your heart. "be my wife, milady. i'll show you how good I can be for you."

#「 talesofyuan 」 fics #did i. a side character became the male lead's wife?!#enha #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enha fanfic #enhypen x female reader #enha fluff #jungwon smut #enhypen fluff #enha smau #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon

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animeniacss · 4 months ago

Note

hey, I wanted to request a Jeonghan x Reader, fluff + angsty thingy? thank you in advance doe 🫶🏻

I hope you like it! I had a brainstorm for it already lingering so this request was EXACTLY what I needed!

Synopsis: After a fight, Jeonghan brings home a Lego set and starts working on it right in front of you. Does he not want to talk about it?

Tags: Slight Angst, Established Relationship, NonIdol!AU, Fluff, One-shot

Length: aapprox. 2.9k words

Jeonghan x Reader - For You

The sound of the apartment door closing did not make you look up from your book on the couch. The kicking and thumping of shoes in the entryway only made you turn your pages, and the sound of footsteps entering the apartment didn’t even pull your eyes up.

It wasn’t until there was a commotion at the coffee table that you saw it being used. In front of you was Jeonghan, your boyfriend, pulling out a large Lego set. When his eyes shot up in your direction, you simply greeted him with a raise of your eyebrows and a flick of your eyes back down to your book, turning the page once again. A little hum was heard across from you, but you didn’t acknowledge it.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, though he was already doing so.

You took a deep breath. The coffee table always had the best space for Jeonghan’s Lego sets. “...Sure,” you said, but your eyes remained glued on one word in the book, rereading it multiple times to look indifferent. Jeonghan hummed in thanks.

You and Jeonghan had gotten into an argument earlier that way. Over what? You were too heated to remember. Something about work, because it was always about work when the two of you started fighting. After the shouting and the tears in your eyes, all you remember was storming into your room, and Jeonghan left minutes later. It took another twenty minutes of silence for you to exit the room, sitting on the couch where you’d remained ever since.

But Jeonghan plopping down at the coffee table without saying anything might be the thing to change that. The fight still sat heavy in your bones, your pillow still damp from hysterical crying on the phone to Joshua and Seokmin for an hour. And Jeonghan didn’t seem to care one bit.

He always kept to himself after a fight, using that space to cool down before the both of you talked it out. But wasn’t that why he left the house in the first place? When you turned the next page of your book, ending the chapter, your eyes lifted to him again. He was organizing his legos, eyes focused on the task at hand. He was reading the first set of instructions for his design. When your eyes fell to the box, you saw him place it under the coffee table and out of view.

The both of you sat in awkward silence for a little while, you trying your best to focus on the book in your hands while Jeonghan silently shuffled through plastic Lego pieces, the clicking sound echoing through the little apartment. Sitting in silence when there was so much tension was sickening, and you never understood how Jeonghan was able to do it so easily. How he was able to move on without so much as a word about it, a huff, not even an apologetic glance. His eyes were as neutral as they were beautiful and it was infuriating. Every time.

I can’t sit here. You thought to yourself when you saw Jeonghan sift through a little pile of white pieces. The sound of your book closing overtook the plastic clinking together momentarily, and Jeonghan’s eyes met yours once more. He blinked.

“Are you going inside?”

“I might.” You said.

Jeonghan blinked. Opening his mouth a few times, you thought he was finally going to utter some sort of an apology. Or beg you to sit and keep him company. Something that you could use to leverage a conversation about what happened. But he simply brushed his shoulder-length black hair out of his face and asked: “Can you hand me that piece?” he pointed to a red piece that had broken away from the rest when the pack first opened. With a sigh, you knelt and took the piece from the other end of the table, sliding it back over until it clinked against his waiting palm. “Thanks.” and with a nod, he simply returned to his work.

Almost dumbfounded, you stood there and watched as Jeonghan clicked the red piece into place. Wherever he worked on a new set you couldn’t help but be curious as to what he was making, but you simply avoided your gaze. The tension was still so palpable that you felt like you would choke on it. When would he put that down? It would only take a few seconds. Was that new set more important than-?

“Can you bring me that basket of extra Lego pieces in our closet?”

“Wh-?” the question almost made you stumble despite standing still, and you stared at him. “Your Lego basket?”

“Yeah. It’s in the closet right under.”

“I know where it is.” you huffed, slamming your book onto the couch and storming into the bedroom. You were unaware of how desperately you wanted to create some distance until your feet started moving. But when you scanned the bedroom, eyes falling right on the closet, you debated simply staying in the room and not bringing the bag out to him. He could easily come and get it himself, maybe it would pull him away from his new interest long enough to solve this awkward tension between you.

However, you felt your feet carry you to the closet, kneeling to pull out the little basket of extra Lego pieces he’d been collecting since long before the two of you got together. You could hear shuffling out in the other room, and like a magnet, you felt your feet spin and begin walking. I’ll just drop it and not say a word. I’m going inside. If he wants to play this game, I can too. And I’ll win.

Jeonghan looked up when he saw you bring the basket out, face still his neutral appearance of indifference. It seemed nothing on the table had changed, so whatever he needed, would hopefully be in the basket. As promised, you set the basket on the floor beside him without a word, not even a huff as you straightened your body. Jeonghan turned his head, peering into the basket curiously. The second his hand dipped in and he began digging, you saw his brows furrow in annoyance. But you weren’t going to let him win. You weren’t. You couldn’t.

You plopped yourself back down on the couch, kicking one leg over the other and grabbing your book. And just like that, the tension settled back over the two of you once again.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you knew that it was making your chest tighter and tighter with each passing minute. This game was always hard to play, even when Jeonghan wasn’t distracted with Legos or work or his phone. Just sitting in silence when so many unspoken things were settled between the both of you…neither of you dared to start the conversation, it seemed.

Jeonghan, however, had no problem talking. He opened the next bag and looked back up at you. “Can you pass me that green stem piece?”

Instinct kicked in, and you looked up from your book to search for the piece. “Where?” Jeonghan’s lips quirked into a smirk, watching as you covered your mouth and looked back at your book.

“Never mind,” he said, reaching and getting it himself. A beat of silence before he said: “You don’t have to sit in here with me.” Your eyes cast up to him. “If you don’t want to.”

Your frown tightened just a bit, thumbing through the pages of your book. You were here first why did you have to leave? Forget that one thought of leaving the room after bringing him his basket, it didn’t matter. Especially now that Jeonghan was practically telling you to leave! Pulling your growing frustration deep into your core, you simply pulled your feet up onto the couch and continued reading your book. Jeonghan hummed. “Alright, then.”

A few more clicks of Lego pieces and you looked up at him. He seemed to have gotten what looked to be a brown pot with red and white decorations half completed, and you tilted your head. He was as focused as ever, sifting between what he was given and the basket of extra just in case. You watched form behind your book as he moved seamlessly in one spot, muttering to himself as he clicked pieces together. Without realizing you were doing so, you slid off the couch and across from him on the coffee table, setting your book down. Jeonghan only glanced at you for a second, the corner of his lip quirking into a little smile before he continued working. It didn’t matter. You still weren’t talking to him. You just…the floor was more comfortable.

Maybe if I just stare at him, he’ll finally get the hint. You thought to yourself, eyes boring into him. He might just think I’m over it. However, the longer you stared, the harder you stared, Jeonghan just kept working. He didn’t even glance up at you again until you huffed in annoyance. With another couple of clicks, the brown pot was done. He opened another plastic bag of pieces and turned in the directions. You followed every movement, your eyes straining from how hard you were staring. No luck. Jeonghan was so stubborn when he wanted to be.

When Jeonghan leaned forward to get the next piece needed, you leaned forward as well. His eyes flickered to you for a second, and that second left you hopeful. But he simply looked back down at his work, and you wondered if that second of hopefulness reflected in your face. He thought everything was ok.

As silence returned to the coffee table, you watched his hands move and work. The longer you watched, the heavier your eyes felt. The heavier your eyes felt, the more they began to sting with the desire to relieve yourself of some of that heaviness. Some of the heaviness you’ve felt for hours since this stupid fight happened.

And he looks completely unaffected.

You inhaled to take a breath but didn’t realize how hard it shook your chest, causing you to immediately turn your head and cough. Out of the corner of your eye, Jeonghan’s hand stopped and he looked up at you. You covered your mouth with one hand, the other wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. Then, it happened. Jeonghan scooted around the coffee table until he was at your side, but you refused to look at him. You could feel his hand on the small of your back, and he softly said your name. You could hear the concern on the one word, the tone that indicated he knew he had waited far too long to start bringing this up. “Are you-?”

“Forget it, I’m fine.” You said. “Work on your thing, I’m good. Just swallowed…swallowed some air.” Despite not turning to see Jeonghan’s expression, you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“C’mere,” he said, reaching his arm forward and pulling you closer to his side. You looked up at him as he tucked your head gently into his shoulder, his own resting on top. The hand that wasn’t now gently guiding your arm had reached back out to the instructions of the Lego set, pulling across the table and onto his lap. He thumbed the previous few pages, before whispering: “I think this set is missing some pieces. Should I take it back?”

“What?” you coughed out, tilting your head up. “Is that really what you’re so worried about?”

“Hm? What are you worried about?” he asked. He saw your eyes widen, and he responded by squeezing your bicep and setting the instructions aside. “Is it still bothering you?”

“Yeah, of course! How could it not?!” you shifted enough to get a good look at him. “You left for hours after and…for the past hour you’ve been home we haven’t….spoken anything of it. You’ve been working on this….like nothing happened!” Jeonghan was silent for a second, watching as you wiped your eyes.

“Mmmmm, well when I came home I saw how upset you were when you looked at me,” he said. “I thought I should wait until you felt ready to talk about it with me…”

“Aren’t you upset?” You asked.

“I guess.” he reached for a Lego, fiddling it in his free hand. “Being out cooled my head down a bit. I probably gave you more reason to be angry this time, so it wouldn’t be my place to decide when you’re ready to talk about it.” He chuckled. “I’m not very good at reading people, it seems.”

You sighed, reaching forward and taking the piece out of his hand, using your nail to easily snap off another piece that was attached. Jeonghan hummed. “Oh, that’s where it was.” he chuckled a bit, both of you now playing with identical plastic Lego pieces. You squeezed the piece in between your fingers, letting the ridges press into your flesh as you did so. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I just wanted you to feel ready to talk.”

“I’ve wanted to talk since you left….” you whispered, not looking at him as you continued to spin the piece in your hands. Jeonghan looked at you. “But whatever…it doesn’t matter anymore. I just want to forget about it.”

“You sure?” Jeonghan asked. “You look upset.” Despite that being true, you nodded your head, setting the piece back into his open palm. When he took it, his fingers curled around your own, turning it gently to place a kiss on your knuckles. “Then, do you want to help me finish this?”

“...What even is this?” You asked curiously. Jeonghan hummed, tilting his head.

“I want it to be a surprise,” he said.

“Oh come on…” you sighed. “After everything you put me through?” Jeonghan chuckled, leaning over to place a kiss on your temple.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m almost done with it, anyway. Can’t you tell?” He motioned to the pot sitting across from the both of you, then to what looked to be a stem and different colored petals.

“Flowers?” you asked, leaning forward with Jeonghan as he pulled the pieces closer to you. “Here. Can you get these round, red pieces? They’re going to make the petals.”

When you looked up at Jeonghan as he gave the request, you felt another deep breath take over your body. Only this time, your body didn’t curl in on itself or shake with violent coughs. You simply nodded your head, turning to shuffle through for the desired pieces.

The silence at the coffee table was still prevalent, but not as tense or uncomfortable as it was before. Despite neither of you taking the time to talk about what had transpired yet, having Jeonghan right at your side, gently chatting with you about the flowers, and clicking pieces together with you seemed to be enough to ease you for now. Even if things weren’t fully resolved at the moment, the way Jeonghan felt onto the small of your back with one hand, and leaned against you with an amused giggle as you both frantically tried to find desired pieces or snap them together, you knew things would be.

It took another hour and a half, the moon already hanging high over the apartment, when the flower pot was complete. You sighed, resting your elbow on the coffee table and looking over it with tired eyes. “It looks good,” you said.

“It does.” He agreed, only to take the set and pull it closer to you. You watched with curious eyes as he slid it close to you and smiled. “Here,” he said.

“What are you doing?” you asked, wrapping your hands around the base of the brown flower pot. Jeonghan shifted in his seat, eyeing you.

“They’re for you. Flowers.” he nodded.

“What?” you snorted. “These are flowers for me?”

“Yeah.” Jeonghan’s tongue poked from his lips, swiping along the bottom one briefly. “I was going to get you regular flowers, but those die,” he said simply. Reaching forward, he poked the red flower hidden within the plastic bouquet. “These won’t. Like my love for you…”

“Ah…” you felt your cheeks heat up, covering them with your hands. Jeonghan chuckled in amusement, his cheeks a lighter shade of pink once those words left his mouth. “That’s cheesy.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.” you corrected. Jeonghan chuckled, watching as you examined the Lego set in your hands, a faint smile on your face.

“I am sorry for before,” he said again. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“...I’m sorry too…” you said, eyeing him. “I don’t even remember what we were fighting about.” Jeonghan shrugged.

“I don’t, either.” He said simply, pulling you back into his side. You set the flower pot back on the coffee table, currently surrounded by empty plastic bags and boxes that needed to be cleared away. “But it upset you, so it’s important enough to warrant an apology.”

“Mmm..” you nodded, pressing into his side. The both of you sat in silence for a minute, your eyes studying the flowers until you asked. “Do you have any other sets we can put together?”

Jeonghan let out an eager little hum, nodding his head. “I do, indeed,” he said, your smile matching his as you watched him get up from his seat. As you watched him walk away, you felt silence fall across the coffee table again. But this time, it didn’t feel tense or awkward at all.

It felt good.

#seventeen fic #seventeen imagine #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoong jeonghan #jeonghan angst #reader insert #svt #kpop

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pastafossa · 1 month ago

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"Waking Nightmare" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)🌧️

Time for the next prompt for my Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! This is for day 7. Took an extra day to work on it cause this is a very angsty one, since our prompt was 'Nightmare' and I went with the classic, 'he accidently swings at you while asleep' trope (many thanks to @sunflowersandsapphires and @shouldbestudying41 for helping me with our chats on this one!). You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Wordcount: 5.2k

Warnings for this chapter: BIG angst warning on this one, along with a warning for being hit (not intentional), nightmares, guilt, blood, Matt's convinced he committed DV so that is discussed.

It began, like so many disasters did, with a series of small fractures.

What started as a horrible week turned out to be the harbinger of a truly terrible month for Matt. Despite near-constant, frantic late nights of casework at Nelson and Murdock, the firm lost two important cases in short order. Both cases had been a long shot when it came to success, but that had done little to soften the blow to Foggy, Karen, and Matt—especially Matt, who’d made promises to client families that he’d been unable to keep.

Matt’s work as Daredevil hadn’t gone much better. A new gang had moved into the Kitchen and set up shop, staking out a territory drenched in blood, ash, and terror. Matt had thrown himself into that fight with the same determination that he always did, and while he’d made serious progress breaking down their operation, there had still been losses. As far as he was concerned, the lives lost in the past month—the three targeted victims in the burning apartment complex he’d been unable to reach in time, and the two store clerks shot and killed in their shops before he could make it to them—were caused by his own personal failings. Despite your best attempts to convince him otherwise, the perceived blood on his hands had only driven him to devote himself even more ferociously to his work at night and during the day.

That devotion snowballed rapidly into a lack of sleep, often the first casualty in Matt’s life when things got stressful or busy. The exhaustion only sent him spiraling further into bouts of anger and a retreat behind his emotional walls. He snapped at you whenever you tried to talk to him about it, shying away from the kind touches he felt he didn’t deserve. While a quiet apology almost always came later in the night, soft and full of regret, it didn’t change the fact that you could see him beginning to splinter and crumble beneath the pressure he’d placed on himself, your Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders. You’d gone through this with him before, the periods in which it all seemed to go wrong and he refused to strap on the lifevests you stubbornly threw to him over and over again. As best you could tell, when these storms came there was no other option but to simply plant your roots deep and ride it out with him, ensure he knew he wasn’t alone. And when he finally fell to pieces, giving beneath the weight, you’d make sure he had a loving hand to help him glue his bloody, broken pieces back together.

You’d thought that fracturing would come from something on the streets. Another death, maybe, or sheer exhaustion.

You’d never expected it to happen here.

Not at home.

“You’re going out?” You watched him dig through his father’s trunk for his suit, his back to you. He’d only just returned from another late night at the office. The only reason you were seeing him at all was because you’d woken up thirsty, heading out to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The distance between you both abruptly felt so much farther than a meager ten feet, so much harder to cross. Still, you tried. “It’s almost two. Some rest might—” “Don’t,” he said tightly, yanking his mask out and tossing it back onto the couch. He pulled out the rest of his suit next along with his billy clubs. His movements were unnaturally stiff, almost robotic. “I need to…” He sucked in an uneven breath, reaching up to run an exhausted hand through his dark hair. After a moment, he dropped his hand, going back to what he’d been doing. If anything, your implication had only made him more determined, his voice now resolute and closed off. “Our appeals aren’t going well. The city’s quiet for the first time in a month, but that might not last. I need to go out. Just for an hour or two. Go back to bed.”

You gnawed on your lower lip in thought as he stalked over to the couch. Without his shirt, it was so much easier to see the lines of stress and tension cutting their way through him like winding roads, his muscles drawn up tight and hard. The bruising along the canvas of his back and ribs stood out with every neon flash of the billboard beyond the windows, adding a layer of blood red to the spiraling waves of deep blue and sullen indigo painted on his skin. That he’d been hurt even with the protection of the suit told you just how bad it had gotten out there. He needed rest, desperately. You both knew it. But you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to keep him here, forcing him to listen to the sounds of the city without being able to do anything about it. It was a promise you’d made to yourself, once, and you intended to keep it.

“Ok, D.” You kept your tone gentle. He’d hear you even across the room. “Ok. Come back safe.”

Some of his tension eased at your agreement, and he slowed where he’d been opening up his suit, preparing to step into it. Had he really thought you’d fight him?

“I…” He shook his head after a moment. He turned until you could see him in profile, that same red light now highlighting the dark, bruised shadows beneath his eyes. But for just a moment, there was the barest softening in his expression, a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. You knew this look, this hand stretched out through the bars of the darkened prison cell he’d found himself trapped within. “I love you,” he said softly. “So much. I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sorry.”

“I know. Don’t worry about me for now. We’ll work it out. Just be careful tonight.” You tilted your head as he took a few tentative steps towards you. You took your own small step, cautious like you were approaching a stray who might run if you moved too quickly. He lifted his hand once you were within reach, the back of his fingers stroking lightly, tenderly against your cheek. You turned and brushed your lips fondly against his fingers, your eyes fluttering shut as you soaked in the warmth of his skin. It was the most intentional touch you’d gotten from him in a week, outside those moments in his sleep when he held you close, and god, were you grateful for it, something in you easing at the return of his affection. It meant he was coming out of this, swimming back up to the light and out of the void he’d been lost in. Sometimes you wondered if him denying himself your touch wasn’t just another way he punished himself when his darker thoughts seized hold of him. “I love you, too.”

“Go back to bed, sweetheart.” He tipped your chin up so he could place a tired kiss on your forehead before he let you go and returned to his suit. His motions, at least, seemed more settled now. “I’ll be back in an hour if it’s quiet, I promise. I’ll find a way to make it up to you this weekend.”

You left him there in the living area, more content than you’d felt in weeks. Sure, the past month had been shit for you both, but you were coming out of it now just like always. You fell asleep comfortably with that knowledge, cradling it inside you against your heart as you drifted off.

You weren’t sure what it was that woke you later. Not at first, anyway. The bedroom was dark and quiet, save for the usual sounds of the city at night that leaked in through the closed windows. Matt’s arms weren’t around you, but it was possible he hadn’t gotten back yet. Without any other signs of danger, you gave a soft huff of irritation. Figures. Waking up over nothing. You shifted your head around on the pillow until you found a nice cold spot, closed your eyes, and began to drift back off.

Then you heard it again behind you.

Your brow furrowed, eyes blinking back open.

Right, now you knew it wasn’t just a dream.

The sound you’d heard wasn’t quite a moan. It wasn’t a word, either. Hell, you didn’t know what to call it, exactly, but it definitely wasn’t a happy noise, that much you knew. This sounded… almost pained, hitched and edged with something like panic. You blearily rolled over to get a better look, still half-asleep.

Apparently Matt had gotten back while you were asleep, the shadowy outline of him curled up on the opposite side of the bed. He was also facing away from you, which was… odd. Most nights, he slept with you in his arms—or him in yours on particularly bad nights. That he’d either consciously or unconsciously placed this much distance between you would have stirred the smoldering embers of worry if you’d been more awake. It wasn’t right that he was over ther, curled in on himself, small and isolated, a lonely island in the sea of silk sheets. As you watched, he twitched restlessly, before making that same small, pained noise you’d heard before. Or was it scared?

Nightmare, you thought sleepily. That explained the distance. He’d probably just rolled away in his sleep. You yawned, untangling yourself enough from your cocoon of blankets that you start crawling over towards him. Clearly this was one of those nights when he was the one that needed to be held. You weren’t entirely sure why your presence helped to soothe his nightmares, but for whatever reason, your arms around him and your breathing against his back, your heartbeat pressed against his back, was often all he needed. Even if he woke up when you got over to him, he’d have an easier time falling back asleep with you holding him. He always did. Especially after such a terrible month.

You yawned again when you finally settled down behind him, throwing one arm over his waist and spooning affectionately up against his back. He stirred slightly at that, his body going tense and hard, his chest resonating with a soft growl. But he quickly quieted, soothed at the sound of your voice.

“It’s ok, Matt,” you said sleepily, breathing slowly, intentionally against the hard line of his back. “You’re ok, sweetheart. Just a bad dream.” You tucked your legs up behind his, nuzzling over onto his pillow, hunting for him even as your eyes fell shut again. You’d kick yourself later, for what you did next.

Without thinking, you leaned in… and brushed a firm kiss against the back of his neck.

Just like that, the peace, the calm was shattered.

A wild snarl filled the air, followed by a sudden, blinding explosion of pain across your face that lit up the black behind your eyes like a skyline of fireworks. Before you could even cry out, you’d been thrown clear of the bed. You only just avoiding cracking your temple on the corner of Matt’s nightstand. But what your head missed, the rest of your body didn’t. As you slid across the nightstand and came crashing to the ground, you brought down every last object on the nightstand with you, glass and metal shattering somewhere far away from where you were, the whole of the world gone thick and quiet.

Things got fuzzy then, a sickening carnival maze of light spinning in your vision every time you blinked. Your dazed thoughts were thick, slow to come together. But, still, you tried, because something was very, very wrong.

Matt.

Yes. You needed to find Matt. He was probably out on the streets still. It was the only way someone could have broken in just to hit you like an asshole. You weren’t sure where you were crawling too exactly, but away from the threat felt like a good start. As you moved, something hot and wet began to pour down your face in steady streams, irritating and coppery whenever it made it into your mouth. Fortunately, that was a distant problem. You could worry about whatever was on your face later. Your only concern at the moment was holding your attacker off until Matt could get here and kick some fucking ass.

A pair of feet slammed against the floor, someone calling out, panicked and frantic. The sound was far too garbled for you to understand it immediately, but what it did tell you was that your attacker was still close by. There wasn’t anything around you that you could easily use to defend yourself, or at least, there wasn’t until your hand bumped into something long and metallic. You snatched it up, ignoring the sudden appearance of pain in your palm as you did so. You dragged it with you, metal squealing across the floorboards as you scrambled on your hands and knees. In seconds, you’d made it out of the bedroom and into the living area.

Good. When Matt came through the rooftop door, he’d have less distance to cross to get to you. You’d also be able to see your attacker better in the flash of the billboard lights, though the flashing sea of red light made your eyes water and burn. But you could also feel your vision clearing, which was great. You’d need it.

A shaking, trembling hand brushed against your shoulder.

You rose up swiftly on your knees, metal rod clutched tight in both hands. “Get away from me!” you snarled, putting every last ounce of strength you had into your motion as you twisted and swung.

And Matt—

What?

—snapped his hand up, catching the lamp rod just before it could hit him in the face.

“...Matt?” you asked shakily, unable to hide your confusion. “It was you?”

“This can’t be happening, no, no no no,” he choked out tearfully, his breath coming panicked and wild. His tone was so ragged you almost didn’t recognize the voice as his. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re bleeding, I-I’m sorry, I’m so—”

The lamp rod fell from your paired grips. Hands shaking, he brought them up tentatively towards your face. He stopped just before he could touch you, hovering them a breath away from your skin. The first of his tears began to trail down his cheeks, his expression twisting in what you alarmingly recognized as grief. You’d seen him cry before, but never like this. “God, I-I didn’t know it was you, I’m sorry, I thought you were…”

He was… apologizing. But that didn’t make sense, no matter how much you tried to force the idea to settle into your dazed mind. It couldn’t have been Matt. You weren’t afraid of Matt. Matt didn’t hurt you. He didn’t hit you. Those were facts, as irrefutable as gravity, as reliable as the rise and the fall of the sun. You didn’t understand, just like you didn’t understand why he wasn’t holding you. He always did when you were hurt. “You… you hit me?”

The low, agonized noise he made was inhuman. It was the sound of a wounded animal, of someone who’d just been carved open. His hands drew back from your face, dropping down towards your hands where they’d settled on your thighs, though he seemed just as hesitant to touch you there. Tears dripped down from his face, joining the droplets of thick, deep red now scattered across the floor. Had you left all fo that there? You really… were bleeding, weren’t you?

“I-I… I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t,” he whispered brokenly, his breath hitching with what was almost a whimper. He grabbed one of the blankets off the chair next to him, the one you loved to curl up under with him. He slid it as gently as he could around one of your hands—oh, you were bleeding there, too, just a little, goddamn cheap lamp—though he avoided allowing his skin to brush against yours. “I was… having a nightmare, and I thought-I thought you were someone else, they had you and I was trying to-to get to you but someone grabbed me and I—God, you have a concussion, your nose is-is bleeding. I have to call Claire, get away from you b-before I… I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry—”

Finally, the idea settled into your mind, the world abruptly righting itself.

The nightmare.

Well, that made sense.

You still weren’t quite thinking right, thoughts thick and fuzzy like wisps of cotton, a massive, throbbing ache in your head and face that only got worse every time the billboard lit up. But you you’d been right. Matt didn’t hit you. He hadn’t hit you, because he hadn’t known it was you. Hell, he’d even apparently been trying to save you, at least in his nightmare. It seemed simple enough to you, an obvious accident. But it didn’t seem quite so simple to Matt. You reached for his cheek. “Matt,” you soothed, your words only a tiny bit slurred as he sniffled and wrapped the blanket tighter around your hand, applying firm pressure to stop the bleeding. “It’s ok, Matt. You didn’t mean it.”

But the second your fingertips brushed against his skin, he threw himself backwards and out of your reach, his dark eyes wild. “Don’t!” he spat. You faltered just a little, suddenly unsure. But you quickly shook it off, shakily climbing to your feet to follow after him. Your own injuries felt secondary in that moment, because this… this was the wound, the disaster that might do you both in if you didn’t find some way to stop it. Your bloody nose and hand could wait. “You didn’t mean it, Matt. It was an accident.”

For every step you took forward, he took one back, the two of you performing some twisted, heartbreaking sort of dance across the floor. Eventually you cornered him against the wall, hemming him in. He was almost shaking as you stepped in close. Your hand rose and this time around, you successfully managed to cup his jaw, trying to press your affection, your calm into his skin. “Easy, Devil-Man. I’m ok,” you murmured. You swiped one thumb over the trail of tears sliding down his cheek, a new one appearing each time you’d cleared away the last, an endless stream of them falling from his grief-stricken eyes as they darted sightlessly around you. “This wasn’t your fault. Help me get cleaned up and then we’ll talk about it, ok?”

He hitched a soft, quiet breath when you tugged his head down, his forehead pressed to yours like he’d done for you so many times before. You breathed with him for a moment, trying to ease him down. He swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering closed as you stroked your thumb against his cheek, and for a moment, you almost thought you’d managed to fix it.

A breath.

His jaw clenched, and your heart sank.

This time when his eyes opened, all traces of warmth in them were gone. Whatever door you’d once pried open was now shut, slammed resoundingly in your face. “No. It’s not ok.” He brushed your hand away, sliding out from between you and the wall without so much as a pause. He reached up to wipe away his tears, the motion sharp and edged with tension. “Where are you going?” “I need to call Claire to come look you over,” he said flatly, heading for the kitchen. “I’ll use my burner. Mine was on the… the nightstand.” The brief crack in his voice, a brittle chip in the armor he’d just tried to throw up around himself, only confirmed what you’d hoped you could avoid.

“Matt,” you said softly. “Don’t lock me out like this.”

He may have been aiming for calm but he couldn’t hide what he was feeling, not entirely anyway. Not when his hands were still trembling as he felt around on the kitchen counter, acting like he hadn’t heard you. “I’ll call Foggy, too. Once they’re here, I’ll go.”

“What?” You watched in disbelief as he kept hunting along the counter. With every second that passed and he failed to find it, he grew more frustrated, more angry. He quickly turned his back to you, body stiff like he was expecting a sudden blow. “You’re you’re leaving me?” “I hit you,” he spat viciously, another seething wave of emotion bubbling up through the cracks of his voice like acid, bitter and toxic and just as liable to burn. Here it was, here it was: the self-loathing, the disgust, the burning hatred. He drew in a sharp breath, shivering as he did. And on the exhale, he seemed to have regained control. His voice rapidly returned to that same cold, emotionless monotone, though he kept his face out of your view. Whatever expression he had would give him away, you were certain of it. “I almost broke your nose. You have a concussion. You cut yourself trying to get away from me. I’ve put men in the hospital for a lot less. You’re not safe with me—”

“That’s horseshit,” you huffed, starting towards him on wobbly legs. You had to stop and grab one of the chairs just to keep your balance and halt you from pitching over onto the floor. Not that it was a concern; no matter how upset Matt was, he’d catch you. But still, you falling would only make things worse. You forced yourself to breathe through the roiling in your stomach, unsure if it was the concussion that was making you nauseous or simply the knowledge that he was trying to leave you. But you wouldn’t let those fucking voices in his mind—ones that probably sounded like Stick—drive him away from you. Not without a fight. At least your nose seemed to have stopped bleeding. That was a good sign. “It was an accident. We both know it. This just—it happens something with nightmares, including non-vigilantes, Matt. I’ve woken up scared and smacked you in the face more than once, and you know it.”

“You didn’t throw me across a nightstand or give me a concussion.” He barked out a bitter laugh. The hateful sound filled you with dread, as did the heartbreaking resolve beneath it. He’d already made up his mind, convinced himself of what he’d done. “I always knew. That’s what they all said. That I was cursed. That I had the Devil inside me. That all I wanted was to hit someone. This is who I am. I wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but deep down, I knew. And now I hurt you. I can’t let that happen again, even if it means I have to leave to keep you safe.”

“Matt,” you said desperately, managing to make it to the couch, bracing yourself against the arm of it. If you could just get to him, you could fix this. You knew that. “That’s not true. Let’s just talk about this.”

Matt ignored you again, snatching up his keys and starting towards the hall. “I can’t find my burner,” he said. That tone, flat and empty of all feeling, was so much worse than anger. You’d take anger any day—you’d take grief, or hurt. Emotion meant you had a way in, that he’d opened himself to you, baring all the parts of him left vulnerable and raw. This tone, though…You couldn’t help but feel like you were banging your bloodied fists against a door abruptly chained shut. “Keep pressure on your hand. I’m going next door to ask for their phone so I can call Claire. I’ll only be gone for a minute, then I’ll be back. I’ll find somewhere else to stay once she’s here to take care of you.”

No.

No, he couldn’t leave you over an accident. Your heart rate shot up, rattling against the lump in your throat. You almost felt like you couldn’t breathe, panic crushing your lungs in their grip, something that made him him stiffen. And you-you couldn’t let him leave, not like this, not when he might not come back. There had to be something, some way to reach him and keep him from destroying, burning down the best thing in both of your lives. And there was only one method that might work in a moment like this.

Holding up a mirror.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed.

And Matt… froze in the hall, a mere three steps from the front door.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, more firmly now. You didn’t bother to hide the waver in your voice. You drew in a slow breath, exhaling just as slowly. It wasn’t blood running down your face, now, and he’d know it. “I’m sorry for scaring you. For touching your neck in your sleep. I know how vulnerable it is, and how you feel about it being touched by anyone other than me. I didn’t think about what touching that might feel like during a nightmare.”

“Stop apologizing,” he growled, his shoulders drawing up tight. “They’re not the same thing, and you know it.”

But despite his objections, he hadn’t moved. He hadn’t left yet. Hell, maybe he’d found he couldn’t. Not when you were injured. You’d take it if it meant you had a chance.

“Aren’t they the same?” You reached up with your good hand, sniffling a little as you wiped some of the blood off your face. “According to you, they are. It doesn’t matter what I meant to do, right? Just that I did something that led to me hurting you. And this is hurting you. I can tell.” You choked out a wobbly laugh when he flinched. You used that break in his armor to edge closer, praying you didn’t stumble and fall, losing the ground you’d just gained. “Do you remember when I slipped and dropped that bowl last month and it shattered and cut your feet?”

“That’s not—”

“I had to pick shards of porcelain out of your poor bare feet. I felt horrible.” Another step. Then another. “Remember when I smacked you in the face during my nightmare last January? Split your lip and everything.” You caught one hand against the shelving unit by the hall, taking a split second to breathe, more tired than you wanted to admit. “You told me those weren’t my fault. You even fucking laughed about your lip. But if this accident is your fault, then all those times are my fault, and so is this one, if you think about it. So I’m sorry, Matt.”

“I hit you,” came his voice, trembling and uneven. You had a feeling those three small words were your target, spiraling on loop in his mind, their sharp edges tearing into him over and over again. His head slowly dropped, his body curling in on itself as you stopped a few feet away. He shuddered then, and without being able to see his face, you couldn’t tell if it was shame or just… hurt. “Don’t apologize when I hit you. I threw you across the room. I-I hurt you.”

“Oh, Matt,” you whispered. You took another step, at last coming within touching distance where you might be able to reach him. “It was an accident, sweetheart. You didn’t mean it. You didn’t know it was me. But… but if you want to talk about hurting me, let’s talk about this here.” He stilled when he felt the first gentle touch of your hand against his back. Warm, unafraid, tender.

“If you’re worried about hurting me, this is how you’d do it,” you said softly, trailing your fingers down the line of his spine with all the love you had in you. “By leaving, Matt. By leaving me here without you when I love you more than anything or anyone else in the world. Don’t do that to me. Please.” This time the sound he made was a broken sob, one hand rising up to fist in his hair. He sank slowly to the ground. You sank with him, winding your arms tight around him as he finally broke, shattering beneath the weight of his guilt. When he didn’t reject your touch, you quickly shifted around him, climbing into his lap. His arms found their way home around your waist, clinging to you tight as you rocked him in your arms, his face buried against your neck, tears flowing hot to join the blood still clinging to your skin. “I’m sorry.” His voice was thick with sorrow, each breath one he had to fight for. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you, I’m sorry—” “Listen to me. This was not your fault. I promise, baby,” you whispered, lifting his head to press your forehead to his like you had before. His eyes were shut, but they fluttered open just for you, as he finally, finally let you back in. You could almost see the torment swirling in them, the guilt, but that was alright. If you could see those shadows, you could fight them. “You were asleep, Matt. You were dreaming. You can’t control what your brain does then. If it thinks there’s a threat, it’s going to react without your input. Do you know how I can be so sure you won’t hurt me? How this all just proved I’m safe with you?” His blank gaze shifted around you, one shaking hand coming up to trace your smile in open disbelief.

“Because the second you woke up, you were horrified.” You leaned into him, running the fingers of your good hand through his hair as he let out another shaky, breathless sob. “The second you woke up and realized it was me, it just broke you. You would never choose to hurt me, Matt. You're not a violent person, even if you've been taught to use it out there. A bad man doesn’t react like you did. A good man does. You are a good man, do you hear me? And if you leave?” You found his hand with your good one to lace your fingers together and squeeze, his eyes fluttering closed, as did yours. “I swear to God I’ll go stand in an alley in my pajamas and scream that until you have to come protect me from every mugger in the Kitchen. Which will only prove my point that you’d never let anything or anyone hurt me.” He choked out a quiet, watery laugh, letting you bring his head back down to your throat. His tearful groan at the affection just made you cling to you tighter. “I love you,” he hitched out. “I love you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry. God forgive me, I’m so, so sorry.”

“I love you, too, Matt,” you whispered, burying your face in his hair. “It’s not your fault. Don’t let your nightmare knock us out this easily. Get back up. Stay, and fight for me, for us. Can you do that for me?”

You felt his eyes fall closed, and for the first time since he’d woken up, you heard a different kind of resolve in his voice: one that was far more familiar, far more welcome, solid and warm and steadfast, a strength you’d happily build your life upon, as he let your love seep in through the cracks to at last chase away some of the dark.

His breath eased out against your skin, soft and familiar. “I… ok. I can do that.”

“Good.”

#tuna tober 2024 #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x f!reader #daredevil #matt murdock #fanfic #fic #reader #reader insert #x reader #angst #sad matt fic #tw: violence #like he doesn't mean it but there's a nightmare and... well...#anyway he's really broken up about it #tw: blood

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temis-de-leon · 8 months ago

Text

Replaced MC AU/AU - V.3 - P.1

Characters: demon brothers, Diavolo, Barbatos, male! MC and crushing! male! NES (MC x NES)

Main Masterlist

Replaced MC AU/AU Masterlist (check the other versions and learn more about the NESs!)

Intro (gn!reader) , Part 2

CW: Solomon is mentioned, jealous and mean brothers, black cat x golden retriever behavior i think, one single kiss, a bit ambiguous at the end, not very angsty really, NES x MC centered

A/N: my favourite version of NES and MC by far, I enjoyed writing this a lot. However, my pc came out as homophobic and decided not to connect to any WiFi for this chapter, so I won't be able to update the links nor the masterlist until next week. Also, some people aren't properly tagged once again because I can't find their blogs for some reason?? So so sorry for that, but I don't know what to do about it.

NES was… someone they didn't expect. Unknowingly infuriating, always distracted and too unbothered to care about any of his surroundings. He was a disaster that enjoyed living in disaster and, if they weren't threatened by his presence, Satan and Belphegor would love his insolence.

Barbatos remembered an occasion, one moment from the second week of NES's attendance at RAD, where Lucifer gave him an earful for his ‘impropriety and insulting attitude towards the uniform’. Mammon had been there too, shirt out of his pants and jacket nowhere near closed, backing his brother up.

NES’s pristine appearance lasted only two periods before MC saw him chocking under his tie and laughed at him in sympathy. After that, he'd only wear the uniform ‘the Lucifer way’ if MC was there to eventually mess up the outfit.

And how could the eldest brother object to that?

“They need to loosen up, Lucifer”

MC always had the last word.

Solomon found the situation hilarious. Witnessing the brothers competing against each other in search of MC's attention was one thing, but adding NES to the equation? Yes, Barbatos had to somewhat agree. It was funny.

Who had been cooking for hours in the kitchen if not NES trying to make a quick snack for his fellow human? And who was the first one to leave the House of Lamentation each morning, already waiting next to MC’s seat by the time everyone else arrived?

Mammon called him a simp. Asmo liked to call them both the kettle and the pot.

And while, yes, Lucifer was the one and only Avatar of Pride, none of the brothers were able to admit just how big of a deal NES was becoming.

When would it be too late?

The Demon Prince's birthday arrived and the mandatory celebration was as grandiose as one could expect. Everything was bright and full of laughter, the streets cramped with food stalls, demons and witches alike throwing mesmerizing magic tricks for the children, acrobats, costumes, music…

At one point MC considered handcuffing himself to NES. Even Luke was easier to manage!

Fortunately, Beel ended up finding him playing darts with a succubus and her partners. Unfortunately, MC seemed to be the only one who wanted to check if he was okay.

It was becoming… draining.

Not NES, of course. Sure, he was a handful, but none of his mistakes were intentional. Everything he did came from naiveness and ignorance, being new to the Devildom, and what he lacked in common sense he made up in enthusiasm.

At least he didn't steal his valuables and he’d never threatened to kill him or eat his heart, something MC still thought about frequently. The worst thing NES ever did to him was throw them both to the ground when he tried to slide on the floor at full speed. And he still apologized for that from time to time.

Did the brothers ever apologize for all the things they did or said? The way they used to look at him? He couldn't remember.

Now they were doing the exact same thing to NES. Treating him like an unwanted guest instead of the roommate they insisted on having, turning down every single one of his ideas, including the good ones, and very passively threatening him in a condescending tone, as if they could impress MC with that.

Maybe it was a demon thing? Or rather regular jealousy brought to a dangerous level?

Whatever the reason, MC didn't waste any time sitting them in the living room and chewing the hell out of them, something that enraged Lucifer and put a strain in their relationship, still making it difficult to make small talk, but of course none of them would back down. The rest of the brothers weren't so obvious showing their annoyance, but it was still there.

The good thing was that, as long as MC was there, NES wouldn't be the receiving end of any bullshit. The bad thing was that MC didn't know what was going on behind his back. And NES, bless his soul, was never willing to tell him if any of them made him uncomfortable.

It was draining and NES gave him a sense of peace, but the brothers missed him and they wanted to monopolize his time, but MC wanted to spend time with his new friend and that made the brothers angry and jealous, which made MC anxious, which made NES worry.

Every factor made the situation worse. The brothers were too much, NES was too good for the Devildom and MC was too done with everything.

However, the time passed surprisingly fast as they sang Happy Birthday to Diavolo, eating in the midst of it all, dancing with each other and talking like they used to do before the ridiculous ordeal, albeit with a subtle tension that limited their topics of conversation.

They even ignored NES! Which was better than any other option!

So, once the voices toned down and the guests divided themselves into small groups, MC forced himself to whisk Diavolo away for a moment and have a serious talk, Barbatos following close and listening with a curious glance.

That proved to be nothing but a waste of time.

“It's too soon to take conclusions, MC. I'm sure the brothers just need time. After all, remember your first year here!”

He did remember. That's why he was so worried.

And why did Diavolo talk to him like that? He was 100% sure Lucifer insulted NES to no end anytime he had more than one horn of Demonus. What did they call NES in the privacy of their office? What did they think while they talked to him and faked respect? What were they plotting when they looked MC in the eyes and promised him they wouldn't threaten NES anymore?

Too many lies.

“Alo?”

But then… NES smiled so easily… Like none of that bothered him. Luckily, MC didn't mind caring in his behalf. He wondered if being able to save someone from the fate he had last year was the root of all his actions.

“You look so worried, you're gonna get all wrinkly! Not like you'd look bad, but if you're going to have wrinkles, won't you rather have them in your eyes? Like, from smiling too much, you know?”

He did smile then, imitating NES’s caring expression.

“There you are, handsome! You're gonna be the envy of all in 90 years!”

“Do you really think I'm going to live that much?”

“God, I hope so”

They laughed softly, but it still sounded too loud. MC looked out for the brothers, checking their positions in the ballroom before grabbing NES’s hand and dragging him to one of the balconies. He preferred not having the moment tarnished.

“Good idea! Too hot in there…"

“Don't lie to me”

“Wha…?”

MC stared at him quite sternly, although trying not to look to much like Lucifer, but he needed an answer.

“Do they still bother you? Do they threaten you? Do they ignore you? What do they do?”

“Whoa, whoa, MC. Here comes the frown again…”

He raised his hands, caressing MC’s frown until it softened. His touch was warm and soft and it made MC lean towards him, not wanting it to end. When he opened his eyes again, unknowingly closing them before, NES stayed in that position.

There was silence for a few seconds, interrupted only by the violins, the harps, the pianos and other instruments serenading them under the moonlight. NES could only stare at MC’s lips for a fragment of a second before someone grabbed the scruff of their necks with poorly hidden aggressiveness and brought them back to the ballroom.

MC raised his gaze in fury, bending down to help NES get up again. He expected to see red eyes and black feathers, but, to his surprise, what stared back at him were purple eyes and a long bovine tail.

He wanted to scream at him, to ask what the actual fuck was wrong with him. Would he had acted the same if it was one of his brothers instead of NES? Would he had such hate in his eyes?

But people were staring, very obviously amused at the sight of two humans being put back in place.

MC would have to wait.

“NES! What happened?!”

MC watched as the boy waved at him, hanging upside down where Mammon usually spent countless hours. His arms were tied behind his back and the rope covered his body in a way that surely left no room for the blood to circulate properly. His head already looked dangerously red and MC knew he couldn't leave him there for too long unless he wanted him to have permanent damage.

“I think I failed my last test, but I don't really remember”

“What do you mean you don't remember?”

“Well, I'm very dizzy right now, but I'm sure it's okay. Lucifer will get me out of here soon enough”

Or he won't.

MC sighed, cursing in silence before studying the thick ropes and the tight knots. He knew he wouldn't be able to untie him by hand and he wouldn't be surprised if the kitchen suddenly lacked knives, no doubt the result of Lucifer's pettiness and sadism.

“Wait for me here, okay? I have to get something to cut the ropes…”

“Wait, wait! MC!”

He turned around, patiently staring at his loopy smile and cloudy eyes. He couldn't wait for too long, but maybe he could indulge a couple of minutes.

“What?”

NES briefly looked away, his embarrassment gaining MC’s attention. Now that was a rare sight.

“Have you seen Spiderman?”

His heart stopped for a second and he felt his cheeks getting hot. His hand, previously grasping his hip, fell to his side and made him lose balance.

“You can say no, of course. We can forget about this and I won't get offended. A little sad maybe, but I can manage. I like you too much to stop liking you for a kiss. Does that sound weird? You get me, right?”

His rambling gave MC the opportunity to go down a couple of steps in the staircase and align his face in front of NES’s. The position was weird and staring at his chin was an experience he didn't know he would get the chance to live, but he didn't care.

It wasn't until he finally kissed him mid-sentence that he noticed a figure peeking around the corner, eyes staring without blinking and jealousy ready to made itself known.

Accepting the challenge, MC closed his eyes and grasped NES’s hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

Dinner that night would be fucking awkward.

Taglist: : @stfuchaase @k1-an @meggs-wonderland @kkeromenoo @va109 @marvelous-maniac @cruzerforce4256 @blarsh @marathedemonoverlord @junni-berry @arylleb @b-a-m-2006 @jonielunar @piercedddriver @cosmidaydreaming @bluegrey02 @anxious-chick

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world-of-aus · 3 months ago

Text

The Arrangement - Chapter 4

Pairing:Mobboss!bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angsty Dialogue

Authors Note: I apologize immensely for the delay but my mental health has absolutely tanked in the last three weeks. I have fought enough to feel a semblance of normal and was able to put this chapter together. I hope you all enjoy, and look forward to the groveling and ass kissing our guys gonna do. Love, and many thanks, happy reading. 🤍

Bucky thinks he finally understands vividly the phrase ‘so close, yet so far’.

The two of you have been married a little over a week and it’s as if nothing has changed, he still barely see’s you despite the two of you living in the same house. You’re asleep when he arrives, and you’re gone when he wakes, and despite his best efforts, you’ve managed to avoid him at every turn.

He knows there is no excuse you could give him, no longer any reason for you to still be actively avoiding him the way you have. And while he’d give just about anything to have you at least talk to him about what troubles you, to enjoy his presence the way you had the night of your wedding, he doesn’t want to push when your discomfort is so obvious.

So he gives you time.

The first two days he gave you all the space you could have possibly wanted making himself scarce, but as the third came and went as did the days that followed, he found his patience running quite thin, an underlying hurt brewing deep within his chest.

Your close friends had all but advised against his plan to confront you.

‘She just needs time pal, she’s working through a lot of emotions, don't get a hot head because she’s coping in the only way she’s known, let her come to you when she’s ready.’

‘Listen, I’d avoid you too if I had to marry an ugly mug like yours.’

‘She’s conflicted B, she’s had her happiness ripped from her before, she’s been placed in uncomfortable situations without having anyone check up on her well-being, she’s putting herself first for the first time in a very long time. Don’t mess this up, because she won’t be the only one you lose this time around.’

He had taken their words to heart, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He just wanted to talk to you, to feel a sense of normalcy in your shared marriage, he wanted you to be happy, genuinely happy. Bucky wanted you to want to be in this marriage not because it was asked of the two of you but because it was something you genuinely wanted. He knew it was a lot to ask of you, but he would do so anyway.

Or at least he was going to try.

You're finalizing emails to meet with the other heads sometime this week when a knock stills your fingers on the keys and draws your gaze from the screen. You call out for them to enter, you weren’t sure who you were expecting but you hadn’t been expecting him. You only barely manage to conceal your shock.

“Bucky, what are you doing here?” You question unable to help the way your eyes flicker to the time on your desktop, you were certain you had mastered the times you arrived home. Your eyes flicker back to his, “I was just about to make my way to the house I would have met you there.” You lie.

He offers you a smile that barely meets his eyes as he closes the door behind him, your heart races in your chest as he closes the distance between the two of you. You watch as he rounds your desk, he stops to lean against it, his eyes taking you in.

“Is everything okay?” you worry somethings happen, with his sudden appearance.

“I don’t know y/n, is everything okay?” he questions in return.

“Well yes,” you answer, “I was just -” He stops you mid statement, he doesn’t want another lie from you.

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, “don’t do that sweetheart, don’t hide behind another lie, we both know you’ve been actively avoiding me since our first night home after our wedding, and you’ve been doing so since we signed that contract Monday, and somehow that feels worse than when you would cancel on me when I was with your sister, at least then I wasn’t catching on to the lies you made to get out of it.” Your eyes shut on a shaky exhale, “Talk to me,” he pleads, worried you’ll continue to shut him out, “tell me what I can do to make this right. This isn’t what I want for our marriage I don’t want -”

Your eyes snap open, “and you think this is what I want, you think this is how I wanted our marriage to go?” you question looking up at him in disbelief. “There may have been a time where I envisioned vividly what our marriage would be like but – I,” you shake your head unable to speak on that night right now. “I don’t know how to do this,” you continue, “I’m not even sure how to feel because before all of this,” you gesture between you, “I was certain with all finality that you’d be nothing more than someone I called a friend, my brother in law, my sisters husband and I was finally coming to terms with that, I was finally starting to feel okay with it. But just like that night I’ve had the rug ripped out from right under me yet again and I’m scared Bucky! I’m scared that it’ll happen again, that I will get too close, get too comfortable – fall in love – and with a snap of a finger it’ll all be taken away. I can’t go through that again.”

I don’t think I’d survive a second time.

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he knows he’s pleading again, but he wants to do right by you, he wants to right his wrongs. “You’re my wife now y/n your happiness is above anyone else’s, I made vows to you that evening, vows I intend to keep. Please tell me how to fix this.”

The tone of his voice almost breaks you, has your resolve crumbling.

“That’s just the thing B, I don’t know.” You answer truthfully. “How do I come out from behind her shadow if everywhere I look it reminds me of her, of everything she had, everything she took from me that should have been mine. I can’t even look at you without being reminded -” you shake your head looking away from his cerulean blues as you press your fingers into your eyes willing away the sting of tears.

You feel your chair being pulled to where he knows kneels before you, gentle hands prying your from your face. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, “y/n, sweetheart look at me,” he murmurs, “please.”

Your eyes slip open, to find his waiting gaze, “you are my wife. And ill be damned if you feel anything but. Please give me the chance to give you the marriage you deserve the one you are worthy of, I know you don’t want too, and maybe I shouldn’t ask, but let me try, let me try to be the man that is worthy of you.”

He can see the hesitation in your gaze as you look down at your intertwined hands, “what if she comes back? Decides she wants you back.”

He runs his thumb along your wedding band drawing both your gazes there. “I made a promise to you, I recited my vows to you,” your gazes find one another, “I am faithful to you. My wife.”

“But what if -” he chuckles shaking his head, “There are not what ifs, I’m. Yours.” He’s squeezing your hands in his, “give me a chance, give us a chance, let’s try.”

Your hearts beating like a wild drum in your chest, “Okay. Let’s try.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au

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padfootagain · 6 months ago

Text

Only an Almost (XIV)

Chapter 14: Heartbreak

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

Alright, buckle up! We’re up for a wild ride! We are reaching the heights of the angsty mess, from this chapter all the way to chapter 17. Is our girl going to be an asshole? Yes, I’m afraid she’s about to fuck up big time...

Apologies for all the damage that is about to be made in this chapter.

It’s also the first chapter I wrote for this fic! It all started with this mess…

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 3450

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It was 11pm, which was early for a night owl such as Andrew, but late for his friends. Neither Sam nor Daphne were nocturnal creatures, and so Andrew answered his phone in a hurry when Sam’s name appeared on the screen. Something had to be wrong. He suddenly wondered where he had put his car keys, in case he needed to leave in a hurry.

“Hello? Andy? It’s me. It’s Sam.”

“Yeah, I know, are you alright?” he asked with worry making his voice deeper than usual, pausing the tv-show he was watching, lounging on his comfortable sofa.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“It’s 11pm, is there something wrong? Is Daphne okay?”

“What? Oh, no! Don’t worry, we’re both fine!”

Andrew heaved a relieved sigh.

“God, don’t scare the shit out of me like that ever again…”

“Did I wake you? I thought you never went to sleep before dawn.”

“Vampires tend to do that indeed.”

“Whose blood did you drink this week?”

Andrew wanted to answer, but he heard Daphne pestering Sam about not having much time, and he merely frowned instead.

“Right… sorry, darling…” Sam mumbled through the phone. “Are you alone, Andy?”

“Erm… yes…?”

“Okay, erm… it’s… it’s about Y/N.”

Andrew sat straighter this time.

“Y/N? Is she okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no… I mean… she’s fine, but…”

“For fuck’s sake, Sam! Spit it out! What’s going on?”

“Look I… I know that you said that I couldn’t tell Daphne about you and Y/N… but Y/N told her, so we’ve talked about you two together…”

Andrew rolled his eyes, lying back down, resting his head on the armrest of the couch.

“It’s alright, Sam… I knew you’d break it to her sooner or later anyway.”

“No, Andy… look… have you talked to Y/N lately?”

Andrew frowned.

“Erm… I don’t know… about… three days ago. Why?”

“I think you should talk to her.”

“Why? Sam, what is it?”

There was a short silence, while the couple exchanged a glance, no doubt.

“Daphne thinks she might take a terrible decision,” Sam answered.

“What kind of decision? What are you talking about?”

Andrew was growing annoyed at this game of riddles. If something was wrong, he ought to know what it was…

But even if he insisted some more, Sam refused to speak.

“Just… call her, and tell her you love her. Tell her to choose you.”

“’Choose’ me? What do you mean?”

“Just… do it tomorrow, will you?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Good… good…”

When he hung up, Andrew stared at the ceiling for a while.

Choose me?

Andrew didn’t need to call you the next day. You were the one to call, and ask him if he was free tonight. You didn’t offer an activity, like you usually would: a movie on Netflix, the cinema, a walk, going to the beach, eating together… There was little ambiguity to the reason behind your demand, and Andrew wasn’t sure whether he was flattered or vexed by it.

He warned you that he wanted to talk to you about something tonight though, and you agreed. You had something to ‘discuss’ with him too. His heart dropped as you spoke those words through the phone. It ought to be some kind of bad news. Or maybe not. Maybe he was reading too much into this, and you meant… to talk about the upcoming wedding, or your job, or… something else entirely. He wondered if you knew that he meant to tell you that he felt more for you than what he had let on.

He parked his car in front of your house, but didn’t climb out just yet. First, he ran through his speech one last time.

I know that you are not looking for a relationship at the moment. But I want more than just sex when it comes to you. To us. Our arrangement can’t go on like this. Again, I understand that you are not in a position now where you want to be in a relationship. And that’s okay. If you tell me that you could give us a chance, I will wait for you. I’ll wait until you’re ready, until your job is more stable and you’ve figured things out in your life. I’ll wait until you want a relationship with me. I have feelings for you, feelings that go beyond a casual fling. And that’s the reason why I’m asking you now to give me a chance. To give us a proper chance…

No l-word yet, you might freak out if he used it. But this speech seemed good enough. Short, to the point. He had written six versions of it this morning.

He took a deep breath, before finally climbing out of his car and walking up to your house.

You were quick to unlock your door and welcome him in. You looked lovely tonight. But then, you were always beautiful…

You went through some meaningless chit-chat while Andrew took off his coat and shoes and followed you down the hall to your kitchen.

You offered him tea without asking if he wanted one. It was late afternoon, but not quite dinner time yet. He could have used some alcohol, but it would have been impolite to ask for some, so he thanked you when you handed him his favourite mug with two teabags plunged in warm water. He leaned against your kitchen counter, his back to your tiny window and your sink while you were facing him, a couple of steps away.

“You… you wanted us to talk about something,” Andrew reminded you, taking a sip of the warm beverage. “And I wanted to talk to you too, so… who should start?”

You were growing nervous, the signs were obvious. In your modern kitchen, there was a window above the sink that let in some golden light. The photons embraced your form, in a way that made Andrew’s heart skip a few beats.

You pushed back some hair behind your ear, pulled on the sleeves of your jumper. Andrew frowned at the sight.

“You’re alright? I can start…”

“No, I… I reckon I should start.”

“Okay.”

He was nervous beyond reason and measure. Andrew dried his clammy palms on his jeans, tried to breathe deeply through his nose, but his heart kept on pounding and his stomach was turning into knots…

You stared at each other for a moment, him expectant and you hesitant. He raised an eyebrow as a silent encouragement for you to speak, but you merely bit on your lower lip.

But then you heaved a sigh, crossed the distance between your bodies in a hurry. Andrew barely had time to blink, and you had grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down to you while you rose to your tiptoes so you could slam your lips to his. But kissing you was a habit by now, and a delicious one too. Andrew’s body was reacting on instinct as he kissed you back, messy and passionate and breathtaking. Your teeth bumped into his in your passion, but he didn’t mind. It was easy to deepen the kiss instead, cradle your face in his hands while you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, always closer.

You were making his brain short-circuit, despite the important talk he wanted to have with you. You were everywhere, blurring his senses, making all traces of reason disappear…

Only when he felt your fingers travel down his chest and towards his belt did he stop you, pulling away.

“Wait, wait… stop…”

You immediately took a step back, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah… yeah… I… look, we… We wanted to talk, like… I think we should, erm, talk before we…”

“Or we can have sex, and talk after that.”

“Is that wise?”

“Do we really need to be wise?”

It was tempting. Too tempting to resist. God, he couldn’t think about anything else but your lips, how inviting they looked, how he wanted to kiss your neck too, he could feel his fingers tickle at the thought of touching all these places of your body, entire landscapes of bare skin…

He blinked a couple of times, struggled to swallow, trying to calm down. But blood was pulsing in his ears, and when he tried to remember his carefully-crafted speech, he couldn’t remember a word…

Fuck all of this…

“Alright,” he nodded. “But we talk tonight… cause it’s important…”

“Deal. Deal. Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes… God, yes, please… please, kiss me…”

You were back in his arms in a second, hands in his hair at first, while his travelled along your frame, from chest to hips and arse, feeling your shape through your clothes. You detached your lips from his to take his hand and guide him to your bedroom.

“We should get dressed to talk,” Andrew proposed, his breathing finally settling back into a regular rhythm.

He threw his condom away in the tiny bean next to the door of your bathroom. He grabbed his underwear as he walked back to your bed and handed you your large jumper.

“You’re too beautiful not to be distracting,” he chuckled, only half-joking, while you put on the piece of garment he was giving you.

He noticed how you looked away, how you seemed uncomfortable, all of a sudden. Instead of joining you in bed once more, Andrew sat down on the edge of the mattress, right next to you.

“So… who should begin?” he asked, voice soft and a little timid. “I… like… actually, I think I should…”

“Andy, I… I think you should get dressed.”

He frowned at that remark, or rather… he frowned at the tone you used. Cold and distant, whispered, and your eyes were still fleeing his.

“Why? Am I distracting too?” he asked with a charming smile, forcing a chuckle out. But you didn’t laugh, merely brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Andrew’s nervous smile soon crumbled.

“Right,” he let out in a breath, blushing hard now, heart racing.

He grabbed his undershirt, slowly put it on while trying to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“Look, I… We should talk about… this arrangement of ours…” he started, but you interrupted him, blurting out words he wasn’t expecting so fast he second-guessed if he had heard you right.

“We need to stop sleeping together.”

He was half-bent to grab his pants when you spoke. He froze, looking up at you, cursing at his long hair when it fell before his eyes and hid you away. He stood back up in a jolt.

“What?”

“We… we need to stop this arrangement. Things have changed.”

And all of a sudden there was hope again, brighter than a sun and blinding every bit of reason in him… And he fell for it. No matter the odds, he fell for it, flew straight to it like a moth ready to be burned at the pyre of your flames…

“Right… things have changed for me too. So, actually, I do think that we need to change things between us…”

“I have a date next week.”

He froze again. Stared at you, too stunned to say a thing, too stunned to protest or ask any question or even comprehend what you were saying.

“I… I have a date with a coworker, Maggie. Next week. So… we should stop this… We said we would if we wanted to try something with someone else…”

A date? Next week? Maggie?

You… you wanted to date again… just… not him…

“But… we’ve just had sex,” breathed Andrew.

It sounded stupid and he knew it, and yet these were the only words he could summon now. The first that came to mind, the only protest he could find.

There were too many emotions all at once. It felt… like falling… falling forever… like the ground being stolen from under his feet. He had no air left in his lungs, and he had forgotten how to breathe.

“Yeah… it wasn’t planned. But I… I just… Maybe I shouldn’t have done that…”

His lip trembled, but his cheeks were still dry.

You were regretting him now?

“I think I just… wanted one last moment with you. Before we’d stop and I would date someone else.”

“So… you… you have a date?”

“Yes, I have a date with Maggie.”

“What do you mean, you have a date with Maggie? Who the fuck is Maggie?”

Andrew stared at you as he was about to cry, and he couldn’t help it. He blinked tears away, but they lingered at the edges of his eyes, ready to fall at your words.

“She’s nice. She works at HR, she’s a secretary. She asked me out, and… I don’t know, I said yes. So… I think we should stop this arrangement.”

“Oh…”

At long last, the information was being recorded in his brain. Andrew shook himself back to earth, turned around, fleeing you and your beautiful eyes, hurrying to put his trousers back on. He almost fell in the process, already looking for his shirt. He felt so exposed like this, so vulnerable, so flawed…

You were going on a date… with someone else… because you didn’t want to date him… he was the fucking problem. He was all along…

“I just… it was… good.”

He nodded, but didn’t let out a sound.

He couldn’t look at you. He would start crying if he did. He needed to run away as fast as he could…

“And she’s nice, you know? And… just… easy. Not like, easy to sleep with, but…”

“I understand.”

Of course, he did. Same argument all over again. And he couldn’t blame you, how could he?

But what if he dropped everything? What if he stopped touring? Stopped the whole music thing?

He thought about what you looked like right now, perfect and dishevelled and still gently glowing after the efforts of love-making. Absolutely perfect. Yeah… yeah… You deserved better than him, no matter the touring or the staying…

“Andy… are you angry?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t start acknowledging his feelings now. He would start crying if he did.

Where the fuck was his sock?

“I loved the nights we had together,” you went on, apparently unaware of the daggers each of your words planted through his heart, and for the first time in the long years the two of you had known each other, he wanted to stop hearing your voice.

You seemed to need to fill up the silence that Andrew was trying to maintain. Perhaps it was a way to reach out, perhaps it was a way to keep him at bay. He wasn’t certain about that.

“It was nice.”

Where was that fucking sock?!

“Andy?”

He put on his jumper, abandoning the thought of his black sock. He couldn’t lose any more time, he couldn’t breathe properly anymore…

“You’re okay? Can you say something?”

Silence. Only the rubbing of fabric against fabric as Andrew was getting ready to leave. He only had to grab his shoes and jacket in your hallway.

“Andy, wait!”

But he was already outside of your bedroom.

“You can’t be mad at me! We agreed about this, Andy! We agreed that… that… this was nothing but sex! It didn’t mean anything.”

He was blinded by tears when he reached for your doorknob, unlocking the door without seeing the keys he was turning in the lock.

“Andy! Where are you going? Stop! We need to talk about this!”

He shrugged you off when you reached for him.

“Andy!”

But then he was shutting the door behind him, his movement so harsh it shook the doorframe. He hurried to his car while he dried his eyes, refusing to crumble now, in the alley leading to your house.

He drove blindly, unaware of a destination, of a will behind the turns he took and the roads he chose. The words kept ringing in his ears, he couldn’t shut them out, they played on repeat in his busy mind…

This was nothing but sex.

It didn’t mean anything.

Did it not? The way you touched him, the way you kissed him, the way you held him… did it not mean something?!

His hold tightened on the wheel. His jaw clenched until it was painful, until he could hear it.

Nothing. The tenderness in your touch, the fondness in your gaze, the sighs on your lips. The way you held him after it was done, like you needed him to land again gently on the ground, like you held onto a dream before it faded. How you stared into his soul when you connected in the most intimate way possible. How you laughed together until none of you could breathe, how you talked for hours about the most meaningless things and the most intimate parts of your lives. How you let him be yours, how you almost let yourself be his…

Only an almost…

He parked the car before a house he had always called home, and it was only then that he realised where he was. He stared at the familiar door of his parents’ house, the curtains behind the windows, the light that came through them.

So, you had let him love you, and it meant nothing at all?

He turned off the engines, stared at the house for a suspended moment. What would he do now? He couldn’t possibly face you again after this. He was about to lose you for good; because after having a taste of what loving you felt like, he couldn’t go back to being a mere friend. No… no, he wasn’t strong enough for that. For seeing you happy with someone else, knowing that you held him close for a moment only to let him go, because he wasn’t enough.

He picked up his phone, ready to do something stupid, something he would regret the second his thumb would press send. He typed the text under your name.

If I gave up on touring, if I stayed home… would you give me a chance? Would I be enough if I weren’t just a ghost?

He heaved a sigh, resting his head against his seat, head tilted upwards in his exhale. He blinked tears away, staring at the dark ceiling of his car.

Did you really feel nothing now? Did it not hurt at all for you? Not even a little bit? Not at all?

Andrew didn’t press send. He deleted the text, opened the door, climbed out of the car and into the street bathed in an inky darkness and orange streetlights. His feet guided him to the safest place on Earth while he tugged his phone into his pocket. His right foot was hurting in his shoe without a sock on. He didn’t even notice.

It took his mother a moment to open the door, nothing surprising at this hour. She saw him through the glass of the backdoor, and her eyes grew round. Andrew finally noticed he was crying.

The door opened in a hurry, bumping into Raine’s foot in the process.

“Andy? Honey, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

His lower lip trembled as he stared at his mother, hands digging further into his pockets, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His throat was too tight to speak.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Tell me. Tell me what’s wrong?”

She narrowed her eyes a little as she guessed, aiming straight for his heart.

“Is it Y/N?”

He opened his mouth to answer but all that he could let out was a sob. His legs were shaking, he could feel all of his strength leaving his body. He barely registered his own moevements as he bent into his mother’s arms, folding around her frame.

“Oh, Andy… here, it’s alright. It’s gonna be okay, darling. It’s okay. I’m here, I’m here…”

She rubbed his back, in this soothing movement that had never failed to appease him ever since he was a child. His voice was a hoarse whisper when he let out the most painful words he had ever pronounced.

“She doesn’t love me, mom. She doesn’t feel anything… What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do without her?”

She let him cry for a moment longer, his father calling from the living room to know who was at the door. Raine merely answered with her son’s name, and gently pushed him upwards so he would stand straighter again.

“Well, for a start, I’m going to make you a cup of tea, with a lot of honey. And then, we’ll figure out the rest.”

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier series #series #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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eureka-its-zico · 1 year ago

Text

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.

____________

Tag list: @thegreatesttttttttt @katiemrty @sorasolarium @ponyboys-sunsets @flowersgirl02 @spilled-coffee-cup @instabull @charleslec-airlines @dixonsbugaboo @amanda08319 @moony-artemis @iloveautumn1 @yoheyyosup @ghostyycat7 @csmbrainrot @selmasemlan @scarletrosesposts @yeetedandoboi @snixx2088 @sourairi @nerdiestmothman21 @swthxrry @throwmethroughawindow @heyitz-julia @sabrinadelreyy @illusory-segurity @naomihatake @mrs--imperfect @shabzy1644 @fckwritersblock @glaciuswduo @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @fangeekkk @tfamidoingwithmylife @zaphira-san @kieth-reblogging @alotofrandomfangirling @emelia07 @kagatinkita @sarcastic-sourwolf @humblereaper21 @frankenstein852 @lflores2008 @hwabae8 @sseleniaa @skzoolove94 @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @kaykay0315 @geminidas

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chiaraanatra · 6 months ago

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Life as We Know It | Part 4

Summary: You and Seresin unexpectedly become the caretakers of Bradley and Natasha's baby girl, Nicole. Can you two put your disdain for one another aside for Nic's sake? Based on the movie "Life as We Know It"

Warnings: Slow burn, swearing, mentions of parental death, paint fight, Seresin being a sweetie, mentions of reader being a psychologist whose favorite color is lavender (sorry for projecting), no use of Y/N.

Word Count: 2.3k

AN: I wanted this to be out much sooner than it was but here is part four! This chapter is definitely less angsty and for one no fighting! Thank you for all the support on this series!

《 part 1 || part 2 || part 3 》《 m.list || ao3 》

You couldn’t remember the last time you were actually thankful to be back at work. It had felt like a lifetime since you had been back, when, in actuality, it had only been about two weeks. Two weeks since your best friend and her husband were killed and almost one week since your explosive fight with Seresin. The two of you had barely said a word to each other unless it involved Nic.

There was a sinking pit in your stomach, a mixture of anger, guilt, and hurt. But just like the last six days, you shoved those feelings down. You had tomorrow off and Seresin was working late tonight. Your plan? Pick up Nic from your parents’ house and enjoy some alone time with her. You contemplated maybe go through some of the boxes that sat in the garage.

You were forever grateful that your parents offered to watch Nic on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday to help offset the cost of daycare. A price point that you had not expected.

Your parents weren’t exactly thrilled about the circumstances of which you gained custody of Nic; however, they were excited to fill a grandparent-type role for you and her.

After work, you made your way to your parents’ to pick up Nic. When you entered the house, you were greeted by your mother in the kitchen putting on the kettle. You heard Nic giggling in the living room as your father talked to her as if she was speaking directly to him through her babblings.

Your mom walked over to you wrapping her arms around you. “How’ve you been honey? How was it to be back at work?” She pulled out a chair nodding for you to sit.

You sat knowing this would not be an easy escape, “Exhausted... But it was good to go back to work.” Your mother placed a mug of tea in front of you before sitting down across from you. You wrapped your hands around the mug, staring at the rich color of its contents before looking back at her, “How did you do it? I mean, work and take care of me…

A soft smile graced her features, “It wasn’t easy,” She watched as your face fell, “And it doesn’t get easier. You just get better at handling it.” She reached out to grab your hand, “You’re not Natalia, honey. You never will be and It’s not your job to be. You're not here to replace her, you’re here to take care of and love that little girl.”

Her words were simple but they hit hard, “Thanks, Mom…” You finished your tea before getting up and pulling her into a tight hug.

I need to go home and apologize to Seresin.

When Seresin finally made his way through the door, he was greeted with the sight of you seated on the living room floor in front of the television, a sleepy Nic situated between your legs.

The two of you had barely said a word to one another and any words that were spoken revolved around caring for Nic. Regardless he felt his legs pull him into the living room. Upon entry, you looked up at him. There wasn’t a trace of malice in the look you gave him, rather a small smile paired with soft words, “Hey, come here a sec?"

He wasn’t sure what to make of the request, but he followed suit. He sat next to you, reaching out to move some of Nic’s brunette hair away from her face.

“I'm sorry, Seresin...” Your gaze was fixed on him, “What I said was out of line and I didn't mean it…”

“It's all right. You weren't exactly wrong.” He paused for a second, “I'm sorry too.” He looked down at Nic contemplating his next words. "You know... Growing up, Brad was always there for me… the summer before our senior year I shattered my hip, in a car accident oddly enough. That summer was hell, for more reasons than one, but Brad spent that whole summer with me, held up in my room watching shitty movies every day. Our other friends were out chasing girls and enjoying the summer… but he just sat with me the whole time.” His gaze never left the little girl. “I can't up and leave when he needs me… even if he’s gone…”

Something inside you pulled you to wrap your arms around the tall blonde in what you would tell yourself was a comforting gesture and an apology. You refused to think about the way Seresin hugged you back or how nice it felt to be embraced by him.

“I was cleaning out the garage while she was napping. I found a box full of old movies. You know how obsessed Bradley was with that stupid video camera.” You heard a soft chuckle leave Seresin’s lips. But your attempts at lightening the mood quickly turned somber, despite your efforts, “I was just... I needed to see them, hear their voices…” You quickly wiped away the tears that threatened to spill over, replacing them with a smile. “But I found this one from the day they came back from the hospital with Nic.” You couldn’t help but giggle before leaning over and pressing play on the remote.

You both watched as the scene came into view. Bradley's voice echoed through the television as Nat walked into a room that you recognized as Nics. "Okay! Open your eyes! Pretty great, huh? The blue sky, like we talked about but I added the pink clouds for a little something extra.

Nat’s brow furrowed, "Brad… When did you do this?"

"Late yesterday. While you and Nic were at the hospital." His voice held an air of confusion.

A groan escaped your late friend's lips, "You were supposed to do this three days ago.” You could feel Nat’s eyes roll, “it smells like paint in here. You have to give it at least a few days to dry… She’s not sleeping in here tonight. Or tomorrow."

"Seriously, Nat? l wouldn't bring our baby into a room with wet paint. The walls are dry."

“You don't think it doesn't smell for days afterward? I’m getting lightheaded just standing here because of the fumes."

"Don’t be dramatic. Ya know how much work l put into all this?"

Nat stared at her husband with an unenthusiastic look, “Bradley. I know for a fact you didn't do any of this. When have you ever painted a cloud in your life?"

"Okay… I oversaw the work that was being done and told them what to do."

"You oversaw it? Bradley, this was the one thing, the one thing, I asked you to do. You said you would do all the painting, not oversee it.”

“Hey, I thought I was pretty damn creative. The guys came in and I said “Hey, let’s do some cute little pink clouds.’''

"This is ridiculous.” Nat pushed past her husband, “She can't sleep here."

Bradley held the camera at his side, not stopping the tape as he made his way after her, "Of course she can."

"Move the crib."

"This is her room. Where else--?"

“Bradley Peter Bradshaw,” you and Seresin snickered at the use of his full name, “Move this crib or so help me-” The tape cut there.

You couldn’t help but smile at the antics of your friends. You were a little surprised when Seresin was the first to break the silence. “So, you're saying it's okay that we're shitty parents and wanna kill each other half the time."

"I wouldn’t half the time… I think it’s more like two-thirds." You let out a small chuckle and were greeted by another smile and his beautiful green eyes.

"Yep."

You shifted your body so you were facing him, "I was talking to my mom today when I picked up Nic… I think we need to stop trying to fit ourselves into their Iives. We’re not them, we’ll never be them, but that’s not why we're here.”

“Yeah, we’re here for her.” There was something in his eyes when he looked down at Nic and then back at you, but you couldn't quite place it.

You quickly diverted your gaze, taking in your surroundings. “You know if I’m being honest… I hate this place. I love them but they had no interior decorating skills.”

Seresin nodded his head, "I really hate that giant chicken painting. I’ve always hated that painting.”

"I think it’s supposed to be an abstract rooster, but he is really creepy.”

"Yeah, I want it out."

"Out it goes. What do you think about the paint? I mean the red is so dark, looks like the aftermath of a crime scene in here!” You couldn’t help but laugh as the two of you picked apart the living room and your friends’ choices of decor.

Seresin paused for a moment, "I think if we're gonna live here, we have to stop walking on eggshells. We’re living like they are going to come walking through that door any second when we both know that’s not gonna happen.”

The thought made your chest ache, but it also somehow made you feel lighter and you knew he was right. The two of you needed to make this place feel more like home. Your home.

That weekend, the two of you spent your time doing small renovations around the house. Primer and the donation center down the street became your new best friends.

Your parents agreed to watch Nic while the two of you overhauled the living room, moving furniture and priming over the red walls.

As you sat on the floor, priming around the wooden baseboards and Seresin rolled primer across the walls, the two of you went back and forth asking questions about one another. You thought it might be good to get to know a bit more about the man with whom you had shared custody of a child.

You had asked the first question, “What's your favorite color?” You’re not sure what prompted the question, but you thought it was as good a place to start as any.

Seresin paused, “Blue?” His answer sounded more like a question in itself.

“Blue?” you shook your head, “That’s such a guy answer.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just blue? Can you be any more specific? Like indigo or cornflower?”

“I don’t know I just like blue. And cornflower? You definitely made that up.”

“I did not! It’s a shade of blue.”

“Whatever you say,” He rolled his eyes.” Okay, so what's your favorite color?”

You didn’t skip a beat, “Lavender.”

“Lavender? You mean purple?”

“Well, yes, but specifically a light, blue-toned purple.”

“Okay,” He chuckles to himself applying more primer. “Since we’re asking questions… why did you want to be a shrink.”

“A psychologist,” you corrected before thinking some about your answer. “It's cliche but I wanted to help people. Outside of that, I was always fascinated by how we think and how little things we do can change our thought processes and impact how we feel about ourselves and the world for the better.” You paused, “then again, for the majority of my career it's always been a ‘do as I say, not as I do.’”

He glanced over to you, a questioning look on his face, “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never been good at following my own advice, even when I know it works.” You set down your paint brush and looked up at the blonde, “I’ve been going 100 miles an hour since high school, never really stopping to relax or do things for myself. I'm no better now, despite being out of school and having a stable job. I always put others first.” You could feel the mood shift with your words and a silence fell over the two of you.

You moved closer to Seresin, continuing to prime the walls. After a few minutes, you felt a need to lighten the mood somehow. Before really thinking about it you dipped your finger into the primer and placed a dot of paint on the tip of the man’s nose before he could notice what you were doing.

He looked over at you, feigning shock, “Seriously?”

“What? I didn’t do anything.” Your voice was nonchalant as you went back to painting.

“Of course. Must have been my imagination.” Seresin quickly dipped his whole hand in the paint pan before coming up behind you, wrapping one arm around you and pressing the other to your cheek.

By the time you two were done, you were both laughing your asses off and covered in white primer.

By the end of the weekend, the living room and hallway were primed and ready for paint. Seresin had that Monday off and told you he would buy a light cream color you had both agreed on and start painting.

When you got home, exhausted, you were greeted by a smiling Seresin. You gave him a questioning look as you left your shoes at the door, “Hi?”

“Welcome home.” His smile only seemed to grow.

“Seresin, you're scaring me…”

“Close your eyes.”

“Okay, now you're really scaring me.”

He rolled his eyes, “Just do it.”

“Fine,” You did as you were told.

Seresin grabbed your hand and led you to what you assumed was the living room. “Keep them closed.” He placed his hands on your shoulders positioning you in such a way that would allow you to see the entirety of the room. “Okay… Open.”

Rather than being met with the cream color you expected the walls were a perfect shade of lavender. “Seresin…”

“If you hate it, I’ll paint it cream but I just thought…”

You turned to look at him, “You did this for me?”

“I-…Yeah.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into you. He smelled like sandalwood and paint.

His head rested against your shoulder as he breathed in the scent of your perfume, melting into your touch.

The two of you stayed like that for much longer than you should have. However, that thought didn’t hit you until you were the first to pull away, “Thank you, Seresin…”

“Don’t mention it...”

《 part 5 》

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Taglist: @callsign-viper @luckyladycreator2 @saturnsbabe69 @desert-fern @pono-pura-vida @dempy @t-rexs-world @averyhotchner @drxgxnslxyer @daisydark @hookslove1592 @teacupsandtopgun @djs8891 @multiverseprincess @littlestatesman @sunshineandbradbrad @hockeybabestars @buckysteveloki-me @lovebittenandlanguishing @cassadilasworld @my-mind-isnt-intact @poppet05

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

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asvterias · 7 months ago

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𝖨𝗍 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝖥𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖣𝗈𝗐𝗇 ~ 𝖢𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝖫𝖺 𝖱𝗎𝖾

part two || chapter playlist (1) & chapter playlist (2) || clarisse masterlist

helping palestine 🇵🇸

warnings: the killing of a monster?, character death, crying, some blood mentions & stabbing (not inflicted against us!)

pairings: (both aged up to 16) clarisse la rue ✘ black!fem!demigod!reader (daughter of poseidon) | younger!brother percy jackson ✘ older!sister!reader

genres: sally & reader’s mom (jessica) are lovers bcs GENUINELY FUCK GABE (hate his ass), reader & grover has a sibling bond, hard cold angst, sad angsty beginning, reader’s mom actually dies 🥲, reader’s emotions control the weather, very sad!reader, kinda depressed!reader, reader in denial, MAJOR character death, reader is kinda a girlboss, kinda!dark!reader x always!clueless!percy, vengeful!reader, reader is OUT for blood (specifically the Minotaur)

summary: secrets are liable to make or break the jackson-matthews family until they result in dangerous situations, nearly escaping from death…well nearly most of them managed a safe recovery.

word count: 2.7k+

tag list: @lvrue @kyuupidwrites @xanasaurusrex @urdeadpoet @aurorailvsm @quinnsadilla @st4rzl7 @p0rkbun @star-girl69 @aphroditesmoon @lcvved @tinytea-biscut @dearlydarlings @nvirskies @rocknr0ll @urbisexualfriend @k4zuhas-visi0n @marlswhore @lovelyy-moonlight @thegiganticgirlkisser @thewritingbarbie @apocalypticlibrary @solecitoszn @mira-belcul18 @ampitrit3 @mthefae @sleighingstella @korizzybee @hoku-k @liv444me @lila-went-missing @mariposa555 @cherriesnbutter @justintinderlake4 @natasha-took-fall-damage @b0ok-lover @novastarrs @urfavefag @babyzzlove @importantpotato @laughingcheese037 @iheartamberfreeman @karslyn @haerinfrr @gianni7867 @jimfiqs @4evafvctional @lyzsaphrodite @f4riedimples

author’s note: i really enjoyed writing this ngl! also i have a faceclaim for reader’s mom, jessica matthews is portrayed by candice patton.

Born from the same father but different mothers, your sibling bond with Percy was unbreakable, certainly unconditional. Your mothers were very close, growing up as best friends from when they were teenagers, accomplishing every achievement together for the sake of you and Percy’s life.

Of course, your moms fell in love, hosting a small spring wedding when you were 10 and Percy was 6 years old.

So when Sally had to move again, your mom didn’t ask questions and instead packed your bags, placing them in the car and driving to the airport. A loving family of four was maintained by dark secrets that cost lives.

With everything going on, with the upbringing of your heritage, both of your mothers went through thick and thin. Developing from friends into lovers hardly changed anything, presumably their love maintained massively for themselves and shared children.

It was a rainy day, you and Percy had just been expelled from Yancy. Nancy bullied your brother so you reacted like how any big sister would and punched her before she flew into the nearby fountain, completely drenched in water. That little defense mechanism got both you and your little brother expelled from Yancy indefinitely as you two took a train back to your parents’ apartment.

You two apologized profusely to your moms, but they remained nonchalant, telling you two to pack a bag because you were visiting your residential cabin.

Something was wrong, extremely wrong and you felt it in your gut as soon as you stepped foot into the unkept cabin. From the moment your mom became sorrowful and honest, retelling the story of how she met your father, you knew something was up. Sadly, you just didn’t know that it’d be life-changing for you both.

Interrupted by rapid knocks on the cabin door made you jump a little in surprise and your mom, Sally, went to open the door. It was Percy’s bestfriend, Grover. He was soaked from the rain and began to blabber on to your moms, incoherently talking about revealing the big secret.

“Grover…” Percy speaks, waringly looking down at his friend’s lower body, or rather the lack thereof. Shockingly enough, his lower body wasn’t one of a human’s but one of the legs of an animal, specifically a goat.

“What?” Grover snapped, turning his head to the siblings, hitting his hoove against the wooden floor.

“Grover, why is there half a goat in your pants?”

“Did your mom fuck a goat or something?” The question had to be asked, but it yet remained to be answered.

Doubled in confusion when Grover, Percy’s best friend was also your satyr protector, dedicating to getting both of you at Camp Half-Blood safely. When your mothers’ actually revealed the truth about your father’s real identity, you were appalled, to say the least. You assumed he was a deadbeat and couldn’t care less about his kids, and you were absolutely right. Only now his identity expanded in further detail, making him out to be a god, one of the most powerful gods there ever was. Therefore making you and Percy, forbidden children in both worlds, are continually being hunted by monsters, who strive to see your demise.

“Do you believe this, Y/N?” Percy turns to you, mouth open in bewilderment.

“Right now, I don’t know what to believe anymore.” You truthfully spoke.

“Did you know I’m 24?” Grover asked you innocently.

You and Percy shared the same shocked expression, “Wait? What?”

Grover winces, staring back at the two adults in the car, “Out of curiosity, what exactly did you tell them?”

“We were getting there!” Your moms shouted simultaneously at Grover.

Grover nods his head, leaning back into the seat.

“Moonlight…listen to me.” your mom looks at you through the mirror as your gaze hesitantly meets hers. “You and Percy are forbidden children, monsters are going to attack you every day, this camp can protect you both.”

“Why can’t you and Sally come with us then?” you bargained with her, tears forming in your eyes. You couldn’t imagine, much less experience your life without your mother and Sally. The same women who nurtured you since you were babies and taught you everything you knew. You refused to give up on them, everything they did was to protect and love you, and now it was your turn.

Sally starts to talk, eyes stuck on the road, “We humans are not allowed there. Only demigods like you two.”

“But we don’t wanna leave you two.” Percy persisted.

“You’re our moms.”

“You’re gonna have to, that Minotaur isn’t gonna stop until he kills both of you.”

All of a sudden, a collision hit the car with enough brute force to send the car off the road and everything went black. It was all so quick, the collision, the swiveling of the car and landing on the side of the road, far from bypassers to rescue.

The rain pattering against the car turned into a heavy rainpour as everyone in the car, hanging upside down with the seat belt anchoring them, remained still, all unconscious.

After a while, the dulling pain in your head sharply woke you up, being the first to recover from the crash. Holding your head in pain as you slowly opened your eyes, feeling the blood trickle from your head, surveying your surroundings as you saw Percy and Grover still unconscious. Quickly unbuckling your seatbelt, you got out of your seat, repeating the same action to your younger brothers.

One by one, you carefully got everyone from the car as they began to wake up. A growl from the distance urges you to move faster as you help your other mom, Sally, get out of the damaged car.

Sally, Percy, and Grover were recovering, standing on their feet, checking for any injuries and your mom was the last one who needed rescuing.

“Mom…” you shake her but her body is motionless as the tears well up in your eyes.

You felt Sally’s arm pushing you back, sending you into Percy’s and Grover’s embrace as you nervously observed.

“Come on, come on, Jess…” Sally murmurs, kneeling down, searching for a pulse. “You gotta survive, we have children together, we can’t lose you right now.”

“Is she okay?” Percy chirps up, deciding to speak for you.

You found everything incomprehensible around you, your senses became deafening and a high-pitched ringing in your head matched the loud heart beating in your chest.

When Sally stayed silent, it only worsened your anxiety, “Mom, is she okay?!” Percy speaks again, adding some base in his voice yet his tone slightly wavers.

“She has a fading pulse…” Sally whispers, sparing a sad glance at you and quickly turning back to Jessica, “It’s decreasing rapidly,”

Dropping to the muddy slippery ground on your knees, tears quickly filling the brim of your eyes, threatening to fall as you moved closer to her.

“Mommy…” you cradle her face into your chest, saddened by her face, eyes closed as blood trickles down her forehead.

“We can revive her, right!” Your voice cracks, whipping your head to Sally, “Tell me we can revive her!”

“Y/N…” Sally sighs deeply, trying to contain her own tears. You turn around, looking down at your mother, resting on your lap, body motionless yet her face looks peaceful.

“No! We- I can save her. We can do heart-to-heart compressions,” you shake your head, starting to do heart-to-heart compressions. “Why isn’t she waking up? Mommy, this isn’t funny anymore now, you have to wake up and help us. Please I can’t do this without you, I can’t do this whole new demigod thing without you.” your voice was dry, as you leaned down, blowing air into her mouth, hoping for a miracle to occur.

You didn’t truly believe in miracles, but for your mother, you’d start believing it. Right now, you would do whatever it took to bring her back even if it meant wishing on the impossible.

“We didn’t do plenty of things yet, I wanted you and Sally to meet my first girlfriend, attend my graduation, be there when I move out and eventually get married, and get grandkids from Percy because we both know I’m not going through that torture.”

Your senses became intensely heightened, catching onto Grover’s whisper to Sally, ignoring him as you spoke up.

“I refuse to leave her alone, she isn’t dead, just having some problems waking up and getting a pulse back.” You were in extreme denial, “Come on, mum, you focus on her face, giving her air and I’ll do her chest,” you beckoned Sally forward.

“Sweetheart…she’s already….gone.”

“She’s my mom and Percy’s mom, your wife. She wasn’t supposed to die this early. If all you’re gonna do is stand there and be useless, don’t bother talking to me.” It wasn’t intentional to snap at your other mom, but your emotions were driving you crazy and brazen.

“You’re the sun to my moon, Mommy, I can’t shine when you’re not there with me.” You sobbed. Despite being physically exhausted, you weren’t giving up on trying to revive your mom, she would have never given up on you so you would stop trying until you had something, anything; a pulse, a gasp, her eyes shooting up. “Remember…” You weakly asked, holding onto the moon-shaped necklace on your neck, staring at your mom’s sun-shaped necklace.

The sky crackled with slight thunder as the rain poured down heavier. Finally understanding the meaning of your nickname, you sobbed desperately until the broken cracks of your voice gave out.

There was no sunshine without her moonlight, always them being in a pair, nothing without the other. Sadly, you lost your sunshine, darkening your moonlight to its deepest depths, harvesting it into something vengeful and heartless. Something that even scared you to a certain extent, like this was another new side flourishing because of the horrible circumstances.

“Hold up, is Y/N doing that?” Percy quietly asks Grover.

You rested your mom on the ground, ignoring the cold rainpour.

“She’s gone…” Sally cries, grabbing your arm and pushing you into her body for a hug. You cried into the hug, tightening your grip as your wails echoed throughout the forest. Maybe this was all a nightmare, where you’d wake up and relax in reality. This was the time that your mom needed to wake you up and reassure you that she was right there, staying with you and protecting you.

Your chest clenched against your rib cage, devastation wracked throughout your entire body as the tears relentlessly spilled out.

“But she- she can’t be gone!” You hiccup, eyes glossing over with fresh tears, feeling another arm snuggle around your side.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m so sorry,” she caressed your face.

“What kind of demigod I am, if I was blessed with all these supernatural powers, can’t even save my Mom from death? What kind of daughter am I to just stand by and watch her own mother die? I don’t want this demigod life anymore, please take it all away if it meant my mother is coming back, to me, to home.”

“Don’t you ever say that again, you did everything you could, your perseverance is one of your strongest qualities that Jessica adored very much. She wouldn’t want you to doubt yourself like this nor would I,” Sally reassures you, resting a thumb on your cheek, “Our beautiful daughter, she’s so proud of you, I want you to know that.”

Your eyes were puffy and red from tears as you listened to your mother’s words of encouragement and reassurance.

Much to your dismay, another loud roar broke the semi-family grievance, reminding them of the harsh reality.

“We have to go now!” Grover hastily urges.

“I’m not leaving my mom here like this,” you point to her figure on the ground.

“We won’t, I promise you, sweetie. I’ll give her a proper burial, but right now we have to go!” Her tone was urgent as she quickly scanned the dark forest with the illumination from the car light.

You hurriedly rushed towards your mother’s still figure on the muddy ground, leaning down.

“Goodbye, Mom,” you whisper hoarsely, kissing her forehead for the last time. You stared down at her neck, gazing at the sunlight necklace she wore and yanked it off, and shoved the meaningful jewelry into your back pocket. Your heart broke again, realizing she can’t respond back, despite being in extreme denial.

Unfortunately, that was the last time you saw your moms, one died in your arms and the other sacrificed herself for her children’s safety.

The pain and suffering became a dangerous mix of anger and hatred directed at the Minotaur.

Grover’s statements fall on deaf ears, partially drowned out by the heavy rainfall. “Y/N and Percy come on, we’re almost there.” you glance at your blonde brother who holds the same expression on his face. You were going to avenge your mothers, and you didn’t care if you died trying. This monster had already taken your worlds away, so you had nobody else to lose.

Grabbing the pen from your pocket, holding it out, and witnessing it transform into a golden sword at will.

The fight with the Minotaur was brutal and intense, alongside the heavy downpour of rain attempted to slow down the intensity of this fight. Despite double-teaming the monster, he resisted surrender, determined to win and kill you both. Surprisingly, you gained the agility to climb onto his back while Percy distracted him.

Somehow, you gained the ultimate advantage with the lighting sword in your hand and stabbed the monster in its eye, ignoring his roar of pain. If anything its pain only further encouraged you to continue.

Too full of adrenaline, you grab his two horns, gripping them and pulling them out with your utmost strength. A new sudden strength you just obtained. Gasping in shock was quickly outlived when your sword slipped out of your hand and dropped onto the muddy ground, disappearing from your eyesight. Stumbling onto his feet, inflicted by the pain, you groaned, gripping the monster by his rough skin as he attempted to shake you off.

“Percy the sword!” You yelled at him. Your brother throws the sword upwards as you catch the weapon.

You stab the monster in the neck, wincing at his loud screeches, but continue to stab his neck. Once the monster was deemed weak enough, you sliced the sword right through his neck, seizing the opportunity of successfully killing it.

This was all this stupid monster’s fault. If it hadn’t chased after you or slammed itself into the car, your mom would be alive. If it didn’t have such a bloodthirst for demigods, Sally, your mum would still be alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. You just wished your moms were alive, to see you mature into such a courageous daughter to avenge their deaths.

Soon enough, the monster staggered on its feet and its body began to disintegrate into black dust before your eyes.

“Y/N!” The voice becomes disoriented as you stumble on the ground, two arms catching you as you faint, everything fading away into a black abyss.

likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

#dior goodjohn #dior goodjohn x reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x fem!reader #clarisse la rue x black!reader #clarisse la rue x black!fem!reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue angst #clarisse la rue series #clarisse la rue imagine #clarisse la rue oneshot #daughter of poseidon

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birdkatze · 8 months ago

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"But werewolves aren't real?" || werewolf! 141 x werewolf! reader Part 3

Future pairings = poly 141 x reader

Chapter pairings = 141! x reader

Words = 1.2k

[Chapter 2] --- [Chapter 4]

Summery: After moving out of the big city and into the forest, you meet some men that might have some awners about whats been causing your pain.

EXPLICIT under the cut, also gets angsty this chapter

Blinking blearily you feel someone noseing at your side. It was Gaz, he motioned for you to follow him. Yawning, you follow him a bit deeper into the woods, a bit further away from the pack. He stops and presses against you making a small happy chuff. He circles around you, before pressing against you again and you both transform into human, flushing as you realize you are both naked.

“It’s okay Duck, just needed to talk to ya.” Smiling he places a hand on your shoulder “I didn’t wanna do it infront of those ruffians..”

That draws a soft laugh from your lips and you look at Gaz curiously.

“So you might have noticed that me and you are much much smaller than the other three” Gaz took in a deep breath “This is going to sound ridiculous, I’m sorry Duck,” Smiling nervously Gaz looked at you sweetly “We are omegas and the other three are alphas..”

You sputter a knee-jerk laugh “W-what?” looking as Gaz confused, you had about one hundred different ideas of what he was going to say and this was not one of them.

“I know, it sounds ridiculous.” Gaz shakes his head “I told Price he was crazy when he first explained it.”

“I thought those didn’t exist in real wolf packs? Like it was exclusive to podcasts?” You look at Gaz still not quite believing him still.

“Well Duck, don’t know if ya’ve noticed but we aren't actual wolves and I promise we aren't a podcast..Ghost hates them- any podcast- said they drive him insane..”

“So what is the um difference other than the um size difference? Or is it just that we are a different size than them?”

“Uh, it affects the um- reproductive system.” Gaz flushed “Basically we can get pregnant, we generate lots of slick, um I’m sorry Duck but we also go through heats- the others go through ruts in all fairness..It's a bloody nightmare.”

Staring at Gaz surprised and a bit incredulously “But I’ve never had any of that happen?”

“Duck you had a device that prevented you from shifting, Soap had one and once it came out um- he went a bit feral..”

“Oh um..Did he go into-” ducking your head you look at Gaz curiously “-rut?”

Gaz snorted, not meanly, nodding his head “He was a nightmare…”

Thinking for a second you bite your lip “That doesn’t sound good…I um don’t even know what I’d do…”

“Something to consider but we all would in a heartbeat offer to take care of you during your heat, we don't’ have to do anything sexual we just want to make sure you stay safe..” Gaz looked at you reassuringly “in a heartbeat we’d help” he stressed.

“What? What do you mean sexual” feeling a presence behind you, you see Price, in his human form- naked of course. Your face is right at dick level. Fuck. Flash of arousal passes over you before you shut it down, blushing.

“You get really horny.” Soap says bluntly, appearing next to you and getting up in your space. Playfully licking your jaw like an overgrown puppy.

“Oh!” you squeak.

“I know this is all a lot, love.” Price helped you to your feet, brushing the dirt off you.

Flushing, you feel another spark of arousal- it had been so long since someone had touched you. It was so foreign and almost terrifying- you haven't felt like that since before you got bit. All four of the men turn to you, their nose picking up on it instantly. You flush, running a hand over your face “Sorry..”

“Don’t apologize Duck, it’s normal- you aren’t in pain right now” Gaz smiled “We don’t need to do anything, I know this is a lot yeah?”

Nodding you look at the four men.

Soap grinned “Well at least you aren’t like me, I was insatiable- wore out these three proper..”

Gaz barked out a laugh “Never been chapped like that...”

Price huffs a laugh.

“Come mer’ lets get ya home, it’s gettn’ cold” Ghost motioned for everyone to go back into the house, staying behind everyone- herding you all into the house.

Stepping back into the house you shiver- you hadn’t realized how cold you were. Looking at the digital thermostat it told you it was 38 F out. Made sense you were so cold- you were also naked.

“I’m gunna go put on some clothes.” You pulled away from the group, you didn’t feel uncomfortable being naked but it wasn’t proper to be naked around strangers. Right? Did that count if the strangers felt like old friends?

“You don’t have to~” Soap teased, looking you up and down.

That earned him a cuff behind the ears from Price and a pinch from Ghost.

Soap pouted and frowned but stopped.

“We should be putting on our clothes mutt” Ghost chastised Soap huffing at him.

“It’s not an issue?” Pausing on the stairs you tilt your head “I- um don’t mind..” you say hesitantly, but you really didn’t want them to put back on their clothes with how mouth watering hot they were.

Soap grins and looks up at Ghost and Price, Gaz smirks too.

“Sorry that came out bad- I um you can put on your clothes if you want I’m sorry..” Blushing as you realized how perverted that sounded.

“Whatever you want, Duck!” smirking Soap gave Ghost and Price the biggest smug look ever.

“Alright, alright..” Price huffs “Listen er’ we should probably get going- we don’t want to impose and we need to get some stuff done..You should relax, love”

Nodding, you felt a stab of disappointment. It made sense, why would they stay at a random stranger's house? It didn’t matter if you were also a werewolf. They had literally met you only earlier today.

The men quickly dress, Soap very begrudgingly. Gaz pulled back on his lace thong very showy, smirking at you- flashing his sharp canines. Soap skulked pulling on his shirt first then pulling up his jeans, only doing the button and leaving them unzipped. Him and Gaz seem very hesitant to leave, it makes you feel anxious.

“One of us will come check on you later tomorrow, love” Price says over his shoulder as he ushers the other men out of the house.

“Okay,” You nod again, closing the door as they leave.

Sighing, you go upstairs and take a shower. You couldn’t understand why you felt so lonely, like you had been left behind. It wasn’t rational! You wipe your tears as you move your pillowcase into the dryer.

The sadness you felt was all encompassing and painful. You end up showering and then taking a hot bath in an attempt to feel better but you only feel worse and worse. When you make it into your bed, with your clean pillow case you break down.

Big tears run down your face as you hold onto your pillow, sobbing loudly. You had never felt this broken and dejected before. You felt sick, scrambling to the toilet to vomit. Any time you feel semi-okay another wave of sickness takes over you, you feel guilty for vomiting up Soap’s soup.

He was so good even though he hardly knew you, feeding you, being nice…Then Price was good too, getting you your heated blanket, making sure you weren’t sick, getting Gaz to get the silver out of your body…Gaz, sweet Gaz- he fixed you right up, sitting with you as you woke up, pulling you aide, being so nice and accommodating…Ghost, helped you shift, made sure you got inside as it got cold.

You wash your mouth out when you finally feel okayish. You were still crying, feeling so incredibly distraught.

#call of duty #mw2 #captain john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #angst #a/b/o dynamics

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jetii · 6 days ago

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Event Horizon

Chapter Seventeen: Downpour

Chapter WC: 12,129

Chapter Tags/Warnings: battle stuff, kinda angsty but compared to last chapter this is nothing

A/N: Once again there is a lot going on here. 💀 I've been looking forward to posting this chapter for ages, so I hope you enjoy!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist

Kamino, 21 BBY

It's raining. Of course it's raining.

You can't even remember a time you were on Kamino that it wasn't. It's a strange world, a planet of extremes. Cold, wet, and miserable. And yet, there's a beauty to it. The way the waves crash against the buildings, the roar of the wind, the smell of the salt water.

It's been over a month since the siege of Null, and you haven't been able to rest. Not truly. Your mind has been racing, the memory of finding Yaddle's things haunting your every waking moment.

You haven't slept for longer than an hour or two at a time, and even when you do manage to fall asleep, the nightmares are worse. The severing you felt the moment she died finds you in your sleep, but it's not her death, it's Rex's. Or Obi-Wan's. Or Anakin's. Or Ahsoka's. They're dead, and it's because of you. Because you weren't strong enough, or fast enough, or smart enough.

And the dreams always end the same.

With the severed bond, with the loss, with the anguish.

It's not fair, and you're angry, but more than that, you're frustrated. You can't bring the evidence to the Council's attention without requesting a hearing, and the Council seems content with keeping you away from Coruscant. They've been keeping you too busy, assigning the 212th to a dozen missions, never allowing you to have a moment's peace.

And, you can't help but wonder if it's because they know. If they know what you have. It's irrational, of course, but the anxiety won't stop gnawing at you, the worry growing by the day.

As a result, you've become increasingly paranoid, and you're constantly checking your belongings, checking the box underneath your bed aboard the Negotiator, making sure everything is where it should be. Obi-Wan's noticed, of course, but he's too occupied with his own inner turmoil over what happened with Duchess Satine to worry too much about yours.

Cody's noticed too, but he's been kind enough not to say anything. You suspect Rex has told him to leave it alone, which you're grateful for. You don't have the energy to explain yourself, not when there's so much else to worry about.

And right now, there is plenty to worry about.

"Sir, look out!"

A trooper in a full white kit grabs your arm and yanks you back just as a stray bolt nearly clips you in the head. You stumble backwards, landing hard on your ass, and you blink, trying to clear the rain from your eyes.

A pair of hands grab you, pulling you to your feet.

"Sorry, sir," the trooper apologizes. His helmet obscures his face, but you can tell he's embarrassed. "Didn't mean to manhandle you."

"It's alright," you assure him. "Better than getting shot in the head."

He nods and returns his attention to the firefight, raising his rifle and squeezing off a round. The droid at the far end of the platform drops, a smoking hole in its chest, and the trooper lets out a satisfied grunt before turning back to you.

"Stay close. I'll cover you," he says, and he moves past you into the chaos. You blink, trying to process what just happened, but then the sound of blaster fire reaches your ears, and you duck, your senses snapping back into focus.

The two of you weave through the melee, the air thick with the acrid stench of smoke and the metallic tang of blaster fire. It's slow going, and the shots are coming fast and thick. More than once, the trooper has to grab you and pull you to the ground, the heat of a bolt singing your ear.

You're starting to feel frustrated, and embarrassed. You should be able to handle yourself better. You've been trained since birth to deal with these situations. And yet, here you are, relying on some poor shiny to drag you around like a baby.

It's shameful.

A blast comes from above, and you throw up a hasty shield, deflecting the energy bolt. The trooper ducks, hissing, and you reach out with the Force, yanking him behind a twisted heap of droid parts at the same time as you shove the sniper off the roof.

"Sorry," you say as you land hard next to him, your knees screaming in protest. "Normally, I'm better at this."

"At what? Being shot at?"

You huff. "Being a Jedi."

The trooper laughs, and then turns and leans around the pile of scrap, firing his rifle. "I don't know, General. Seems like you're doing just fine to me."

"That's...generous of you," you mutter. You lean back, taking a moment to catch your breath.

It's not easy to focus. Everything is chaos. Screams, explosions, blaster fire. The time you all had to prepare for the siege had not been nearly enough, and the blockade had been brutal. By the time you'd arrived on the planet, the battle was already in full swing.

You and Cody had only just managed to land before the shuttle had been forced to evacuate, and while he had rushed off to secure the barracks with Rex, you were tasked with defending the training facility with a contingent of newly trained clones. They were an interesting bunch, a little wild and eager, but they knew how to fight, and you'd seen them cut down more droids than their fair share.

You just hoped that would be enough.

Droids were rising from the ocean like the living dead, and they were everywhere, a sea of metal, their red eyes flashing in the storm. There's little cover on the open platform, and the clones are doing their best to hold their ground, but they're being pushed back, the droids overwhelming them.

"This is fucking insane," the trooper growls, and you glance at him, raising an eyebrow. "Sorry, sir."

"Don't worry about it," you chuckle. "I've heard worse."

He huffs and shakes his head, and then he raises his blaster and fires off another round at the same time as you pop up and throw your shoto in a wide arc. The yellow streak cuts through the air and collides with a pair of battle droids, severing clean through their torsos, the halves clattering to the ground.

"Nice shot," the trooper grunts. You look over at him and grin as you catch the blade, but it fades when you notice his hand clutching his arm, his armor charred and cracked.

"You're hurt," you gasp, reaching out, but he pulls away.

"It's nothing," he insists, shaking his head. "I'm fine."

"Let me see," you press.

He sighs, but he releases his arm, allowing you to examine the wound. The flesh is scorched, but it's not deep. You can't risk applying bacta, not in the middle of a battle, but you can ease the pain, at least.

You place your hand on his arm, and he jerks, his helmet whipping towards you. You meet his gaze and try to smile reassuringly.

"Just relax," you tell him. "It won't hurt."

He hesitates, but then he nods, and he lets out a slow breath. You close your eyes and focus, the Force flowing through you, into him. It's the same technique you used to heal Rex's injury on Null, but the effect is more temporary, the tissue healing slower than usual. You're sure that if Rex knew what you were doing, he'd have a few choice words, but you don't care. These men are under your command, and it's your duty to protect them. Even if that means pushing your own limits.

"Wow," the trooper murmurs. He rolls his arm, flexing his fingers, a note of awe in his voice. "How did you do that?"

You shrug. "I have my ways."

"Very mysterious, sir," he teases, and you roll your eyes. He peers around the pile of scrap, and then turns back to you, his shoulders slumping. "Not gonna lie, this isn't looking good."

"No, it's not," you agree. You take a deep breath, your hands resting on your knees. You feel lightheaded, and a little woozy. Healing him took more out of you than you expected.

"You're not doing so great either," the trooper observes, and you blink, turning to him.

"Excuse me?"

"You're not doing so great," he repeats. He cocks his head, and then adds, "Sir."

You can't help but snort at that, and the two of you share a chuckle. It feels good to laugh, to find a moment of levity in the chaos. The trooper may have been a little awkward and blunt, but you couldn't help but like him. He was refreshingly honest. Or maybe you were just a little delirious.

"Thanks," you mumble. You pause, and then look around, trying to formulate a plan. The platform is surrounded, and the droids are pouring out of the ocean faster than the clones can shoot them down. You've never been great at strategy, but you've survived this long. You're going to have to rely on instinct. And hope.

You raise your blades and stand, a grim determination settling over you.

"Stay close," you say, and the trooper rises to his feet, his blaster at the ready. "We're going to break their ranks."

"Sir, yes, sir."

You nod, and the two of you leap out from behind the pile of scrap, launching yourselves into the fray. For a few moments, everything is a blur. You lose yourself in the movement, the familiar weight of your weapons in your hands. It's a dance, really, the steps as natural as breathing. You duck, dodge, spin, strike, parry, thrust, and repeat. The droids fall before you, their metal limbs scattering across the platform, but it's still not enough.

"We have to fall back," you shout. "Get the wounded into the building and seal the doors. We'll regroup and formulate a plan."

The trooper nods, and he signals the men, repeating your orders. A moment later, they're retreating, falling back to the safety of the training facility. You hold the rear, deflecting shot after shot, the lightning crackling overhead, the wind roaring in your ears. The droids are relentless, and their shots are becoming more accurate. One hits a clone in front of you, and he falls to the ground, his body limp.

"Grab him," you call out. Another bolts grazes your pauldron, and you flinch, nearly tripping over a severed droid arm at your feet. "Hurry!"

The troopers haul their fallen comrade, and they rush back into the training facility, the doors sealing behind them. The one who had saved your life before remains at your side, and together, the two of you hold the line, keeping the droids from breaching the entrance. But, even with your combined efforts, the droids are still advancing, and they're quickly gaining ground.

The rain is coming down hard, and the wind is blowing it sideways, soaking through your clothes and chilling you to the bone. You grit your teeth, and continue deflecting shots, the droids' numbers seeming endless. If only Obi-Wan was here. He'd have thought of something clever, something that would have turned the tide in your favor. You, however, have nothing. Nothing but desperation, and anger, and fear.

A particularly well-aimed shot whizzes past your ear, and you feel the heat of it graze your cheek. Another shoots by, and another, and another. They're close, too close, and your arms are starting to tremble, your fingers slipping on the hilts of your sabers.

"Sir, come on!" the trooper urges, grabbing your arm and pulling you back toward the facility. You can barely keep up, your boots sliding on the wet ground. The doors are so close, but they're also so far.

A sudden blast rocks the platform, sending the two of you sprawling. Your sabers go flying, clattering across the duracrete, and you watch the blades deactivate, the metal growing cold and silent. The trooper groans beside you, and then he sits up, shaking his head. You can't blame him for his lack of grace. The world is spinning, and the ringing in your ears is deafening.

"Fuck," you hiss, pushing yourself up. You reach out with the Force and drag a crate to the side, forming a barrier between the two of you and the advancing droids. It's a flimsy shield, but it's better than nothing. You press your back against the crate and close your eyes, gathering your strength.

"I've got an idea," the trooper pants, and his voice sounds like it's coming from a million lightyears away. His helmet tilts your direction, his chest heaving. "But you're not going to like it."

"Try me," you grunt, trying to clear your vision.

He takes a deep breath and exhales, the sound sharp through the modulator. "See that downed trident ship? The one with the hole in the side?"

You turn and look, spotting the wreckage. It's close, no more than a few dozen meters away, behind the hoard of advancing droids. It's a mess of broken metal, the hull twisted and shattered, the observation portals cracked.

"Yeah, I see it," you reply, a hint of suspicion creeping into your voice.

"Can you use the Force to move it?" He pulls a grenade from his belt. "If you can bring it close enough, I can toss a popper into the hole and detonate the fuel reserves."

You stare at him, the implications dawning on you. You're not a demolitions expert, but even you know that blowing up a downed ship in the middle of a battle is a risky move. The explosion would likely cause significant damage, and the fallout could be deadly.

"Do you think you can do it?" he asks, his voice laced with urgency.

"I can do it," you reply, and the trooper gives a short nod.

"Then, let's do this," he says.

"On my mark," you say, and he nods again.

You rise and extend your hand, calling upon the Force. The moment you connect, a wave of power rushes through you, and you can feel the weight of the ship heavy in your grasp. You take a deep breath, and you start to pull, using all your strength.

The ship groans, the metal creaking and screeching. It's heavier than you thought, and it's hard to focus with the blaster fire coming at you. You grit your teeth, and you throw every ounce of energy into the task. Slowly, the ship begins to move, its metal body scraping against the deck until it lifts into the air.

The droids don't seem to notice the trident floating above their heads, and they continue their advance, their red eyes gleaming in the storm. It's almost comical, how the metal behemoth hangs there twists in the air behind them, its tentacle-like limbs dangling beneath.

The rain is pouring now, the water streaming down your face, and your entire body is trembling, exhaustion threatening to overtake you. It's getting harder and harder to maintain control, and the ship is wavering, the hull swinging back and forth.

"I can't hold it much longer," you shout, your voice straining.

"Almost there," the trooper shouts back. His hand grips the grenade, his finger hovering over the trigger. "Just a little longer!"

You let out a cry and pull with all your might, and the ship responds, jerking forward, the tentacles swinging wildly. He presses the activator, hurling the grenade towards the hull just as it falls from your grasp. It arcs through the air, hitting the edge of the hole and bouncing inside.

"Get down!"

The trooper grabs you and tackles you to the ground, shielding your body with his. A second later, the trident explodes, a blinding flash of light filling the sky. The shockwave is deafening, the pressure slamming into you, the heat from it hot on your skin.

Debris rains down, the deck trembles beneath you, and the ground shifts. For a moment, you think it's about to collapse, and the two of you are going to tumble into the ocean below. But, then, everything goes still and silent.

You lay there, stunned. Your ears are ringing, and your body is aching, the pain pulsing through you. You're alive, though. And, surprisingly, uninjured.

You turn your head and glance at the trooper, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He's alive. He's alive.

The two of you are silent for a moment, and then, a chuckle escapes your lips. You can't help it, the adrenaline surging through you. He lets out a weak laugh, and you start to laugh harder, the hysteria gripping you. It's insane, all of it, and the two of you laugh until you're crying, your ribs aching, the tears mixing with the rain.

After what feels like an eternity, you manage to regain control, and you wipe the tears from your cheeks, a giddy sense of relief washing over you. The trooper pushes himself up and offers his hand, pulling you to your feet. Once you're steady, you clasp his shoulder, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"That was insane. Absolutely insane." You can't help but laugh again, the adrenaline still pumping through you. "And, I have to admit, pretty damn clever."

He chuckles and shrugs, brushing aside the compliment. "Thanks, sir. But, I can't take the credit. That was all you."

"Well, whatever. It was a team effort." You look around, the smoke from the explosion clearing, revealing the aftermath. The droids are scattered in pieces across the deck, their limbs bent and twisted. You know more will come, but for now, the platform is secure.

"You have a name, trooper?" you ask.

"CC-8411, sir," he replies. He holsters his rifle and straightens his back, a sense of pride in his stance. "Though my brothers call me Booker."

"A commander, huh?" You tilt your head, studying him. "I should have known. You have quite the aim, Booker. Thank you for watching my back."

"Of course, sir." He shifts nervously on his feet, glancing down at the ground and back up. "And I, uh, I'm not a commander yet, sir, but I'm working on it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Booker says. He rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. "Just finished my ARC training. I'm pretty good at shooting, and my scores are high. My CO's seem to think I'm ready, it's just, well, I can't get promoted unless I've had experience leading a unit."

You raise an eyebrow, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. "You don't say."

Booker clears his throat and stands at attention, his gaze straight ahead. "I'm just...I'm looking for the right opportunity, sir."

"Hm," you hum, studying him. You call your lightsabers back into your hands, and you point at him with the hilt of one. "That could be arranged."

His helmet snaps in your direction as you holster them. "Sir?"

"You said it yourself. You have the skills," you point out. "And, if your superiors think you're ready, I see no reason why we can't put you to the test. Come on."

You turn and gesture for him to follow, and the two of you make your way back into the facility, the doors opening with a hiss. The rest of the men are waiting inside, their bodies slumped against the wall, the injured being treated. When they catch sight of you, a cheer rises, and the air fills with applause.

You can't help but smirk, and you glance at Booker, giving him a wink.

"Looks like you're already popular," you tease.

"Well, what can I say?" he laughs. "I have a way with people."

"Yeah, I can see that." You stop in the center of the room and take a deep breath. "Status report."

One of the troopers steps forward, and he salutes, his helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes are wide, a mixture of awe and terror, and he swallows, trying to gather himself.

"All troopers accounted for, sir," he reports. "One casualty, but all other injuries are non-life threatening. I've sent word to the barracks, but I don't know if anyone's heard us." He looks around the room, his expression grim. "I think we're on our own, sir."

You nod. You'd expected as much. Still, it's not the news you wanted to hear.

"Very well," you say, sighing. You reach out, placing your hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. "Stay calm. What's your name?"

"Snap, sir," he answers.

"Well, Snap, let's do this one step at a time, okay?" You pat his arm and take a step back, taking a deep breath. "First things first. How many able men are here?"

"About forty, sir."

You bite your lip, calculating the numbers. It's not enough. Not by a long shot. But, it'll have to do.

"Alright, listen up," you declare, and the room goes silent. "We need to start clearing buildings. If we can create a clear path to the barracks, we can get our brothers the reinforcements they need. Now, the enemy is numerous, and they're well-armed, but they're also spread out. So, we're going to take advantage of that."

You pause and look at each trooper, their faces serious. Then, you turn back to Booker, giving him a nod.

"We're going to split into teams and work our way through the city, building by building, until we reach the barracks. Our goal is to clear as much ground as possible and take out as many droids as we can along the way. Commander Booker will be leading a team. I'll be taking the rest."

Booker stiffens, and he glances at you. "Sir?"

"Time to prove yourself, Commander," you tell him, and the room breaks into a flurry of excited murmurs. "I want you to lead a team through the east wing. You're a good shot. Take out as many droids as you can."

He's quiet for a moment, and then he nods, squaring his shoulders.

"You heard the General," he says as he turns back to the men, his voice firm and commanding. There's no trace of the nervousness he displayed only moments before. "Form up."

The troopers begin gathering their gear, the room filled with a newfound sense of purpose. You can't help but smile, and a wave of pride swells inside you. They may not be the most skilled fighters, but these men are brave, and they're determined. And, if the past few hours have shown you anything, it's that they're smart. They'll be fine.

Booker steps closer to you as the men move into formation, and he hesitates before pulling his helmet off, revealing a face you've seen a thousand times and a crooked smile that's all his own. His hair is dangerously close to being out of regulation for a shiny, and his eyes are bright and full of life.

"I won't let you down, sir," he vows.

"I know," you assure him, and his smile widens. "I'll see you on the other side, Commander."

He gives a final nod, and he jams his helmet back on, turning to the troopers who have assembled beside him. He barks a command, and the group disappears into the hallway. The remaining troopers turn to you, waiting for their orders.

You take a deep breath and steel yourself, feeling the weight of the battle heavy on your shoulders. You wave your hand, and the men follow you down the opposite corridor, their footsteps echoing behind you.

The halls are quiet, the only sound the hiss of the doors opening and closing as the men file out and the rain pattering against the glass above, the droplets running down the window.

It's dark, the lights flickering, and the building feels abandoned, a shell of its former glory. There are no signs of life, no indication that anyone is left behind, and the silence is unnerving. It's almost like a ghost town. Or a tomb. But, the droids are here, lurking somewhere, and you know that the fight is far from over.

You pass through the training facility, the space littered with broken equipment and shattered glass, the droid corpses scattered throughout. There are blast marks on the walls, scorch marks on the floor, the metal dented and twisted.

Somewhere, you know Obi-Wan is fighting General Grievous, and you pray to the Force that he succeeds. You'd never say it aloud, but you're glad it's him and not you. Not this time. He's faced the cyborg more than once before, and he's still standing. You can't say the same after your last encounter, and while the idea of having a rematch is tempting, the idea of facing that monster again terrifies you.

It's a selfish thought, and one that Obi-Wan would be disappointed in, but it's true. You're afraid. Afraid of the pain, of the horror, of the nightmares that plague you still. And, if you're honest, afraid of the darkness within yourself, the one that lingers, whispering in your ear. The one that you've barely kept at bay, but knows no bounds. You'd tempted fate once, and you'd nearly paid the price.

No, you're better off where you are, facing droids instead of demons.

"Sir," a voice interrupts, and you blink, realizing you've stopped walking. You feel a flicker of embarrassment as you look at the trooper who spoke, his helmet tilted, and you give a quick nod to speak. "We've cleared the building. No signs of life. No droids, either."

You let out a sigh, relief washing over you.

"Thank you," you say, giving him a smile. "Good work."

"Where to next?"

You consider his words, and you weigh the options. You know the barracks are in the north, and you're currently in the south. To reach them, you'll have to fight your way through the city, which is crawling with droids, and there's no telling what they have planned. They could have already taken the barracks, and you'd have no way of knowing until it was too late.

You look at the trooper, and he shifts under your gaze. "What's your name?"

"CT-4398, sir," he answers, his voice wavering slightly. "I mean, um, Dash. Sir."

You give him a small smile, trying to ease his nerves. He's young, barely out of his teens, and it's clear he's never been in the field before. "Well, Dash, what do you think?"

"Me?" he stammers. "I don't... I'm not sure..."

"It's okay," you reassure him. "Just tell me what you're thinking."

"Well, sir, I was just thinking...maybe we should check the control room," he says, gesturing down the hall. "It's just around the corner. We might be able to find out where the droids are coming from, and get some information on the barracks."

"Sounds like a plan," you say, smiling. You clap him on the shoulder. "I need you to man the control room with..." You blink, turning to the trooper next to him. "What's your name?"

"Screwball, sir," the trooper says. You try to disguise the laughter, but Screwball is already shaking his head. "Don't ask."

"Right," you drawl, and you turn back to Dash. "With Screwball. Monitor the communications. Try to raise the barracks."

Dash stares at you, and it’s only when Screwball slaps him on the back hard enough to send him stumbling forward does he finally snap out of his stupor.

"Y-yes, sir," he replies. "Understood, sir."

“I’ll watch him, sir,” Screwball adds confidently.

"Good," you say. You nod to the remaining troopers. "Let's move out."

As you continue down the corridor, you can't help but wonder if you're doing the right thing. If there's even a right thing. There's so much about this war that feels wrong, but it's still the clones, and their treatment, that trouble you the most.

They were created, not born. Taught, not raised. Molded, not nurtured. Their entire lives, they were engineered to serve, bred to fight. And, yet, there's so much more to them.

They're men, flesh and blood, and you can't help but feel responsible for their lives. These clones in particular, still so young, still so new. They've barely begun to live. To die now, here on Kamino, would be a waste. A tragic end to bright lives cut too short.

You can't allow that.

You won't.

Ahead, the corridor splits, the left leading to the control room, the right continuing on to the rest of the building. Dash and Screwball peel off, and the group continues. You're not sure what awaits you outside, but you're determined to face it. The odds are stacked against you, but so far, you've overcome the worst, and you've survived. You can do this. You can save them.

As the door slides open, and the rain batters against your face, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the battle ahead.

Booker and his squad are waiting when you finally meet up hours later, their armor drenched, their weapons hanging at their sides. You can tell they've been through the wringer, but the sight of them is a welcome relief. In fact, every single trooper on his squad is accounted for and then some — a score of fifteen men you haven’t seen before.

"I see you picked up some friends," you tease, giving him a tired smile.

Booker chuckles, and he shakes his head, his armor dripping. "A few stragglers, but I'm not complaining. Thought they might be useful."

"You thought right." You reach out and pat his shoulder, your fingers squeezing his plastoid. "Good work, Commander. I'm glad you're okay."

"I told you I wouldn't let you down," he reminds you. "Besides, it's not over yet."

He's right. You're still not even halfway through the city, and the storm is only getting worse, the waves crashing against the buildings, the wind howling.

You've cleared five buildings so far, and each one has been an ordeal. The droids are everywhere, and they're relentless. Your troops have had to fight their way through blockades, shoot down trident ships, and fend off swarms of B2s. It's been a brutal slog, and your body is exhausted, the adrenaline from the first few hours waning.

The good news is, there doesn't seem to be an endless supply of droids. The bad news is, there's still enough to pose a serious threat.

Your men have been hit hard, and more than a few have been wounded. Some are unconscious, and some are worse. Some were too injured to move, and you've done what you can to stabilize them, but the truth is, there's not much you can do. There's not enough bacta to go around, and there's no way to safely transport them.

It's a grim reality, and it's one that haunts you. Not long ago you'd felt the loss of every death, the pain and suffering washing over you. It had nearly driven you mad. Now, the feeling has faded, becoming nothing more than a dull ache. A reminder.

It's not right. None of this is right.

Your thoughts drift to Rex, and the image of his face is clear in your mind. He's alive, you can sense it. And if anyone can survive a battle, it's him, but that doesn't stop the fear from taking hold. It's irrational, and you know it, but you can't shake the dread that gnaws at you. He's the best fighter you've ever known, and he's faced death a hundred times before, and still, a part of you is terrified that this time, it'll be the last. That the nightmares you've dismissed as just that will become real again.

"You alright?" Booker asks, and you realize he's been staring at you.

You shake yourself free of the thought and look at him, a tight smile pulling at your mouth.

"I'm fine," you mutter. You run your hand through your hair, pushing the strands away from your face, and you turn to look over the rest of the troopers. “Tell the men to rest for a moment, and then we'll make a run on the barracks. I want a headcount, and we'll need to re-evaluate the plan. I'll brief you in a moment."

"Yes, sir." Booker gives you a lingering glance before he moves away, gathering the rest of the group. As the clones begin to settle down, taking advantage of the reprieve, you find yourself wandering away from them.

You walk away toward the edge of the platform, and your eyes scan the horizon. The lightning is still dancing across the darkened sky, a beautiful, terrifying sight. It's a reminder of the power you hold, of the power you're capable of wielding, and of the danger that lurks in the shadows.

It's also a reminder of how small you are. How insignificant.

You lift your communicator up and press the button, praying to the Force that Dash and Screwball were able to get the communications back online. When static fills your ears, followed by the voice of the young trooper, relief floods you.

"General, is that you?"

"It is," you say, leaning against the railing, the rain dripping down your face. "Status report."

"Well, uh, we haven't had any success reaching the barracks," he says, his voice shaky. "But, we did manage to restore the cameras."

"That's something, at least." You let out a sigh, and you close your eyes, trying to calm yourself. "How are we looking?"

There's a pause, and then a crackle of static. "Not great, sir."

"Define not great," you urge.

"The droids are surrounding the building, and they've got heavy artillery. Our brothers are holding them off, but the numbers are against them. At this rate, they're not going to last long."

"Shit." You open your eyes and stare into the distance, your mind racing. Dash quickly reads out the position of Obi-Wan and Anakin, both engaged in their own duels with Grievous and Ventress, and it's clear from the strain in his voice that he's barely holding it together. You need to get moving. But, the question is, where?

"Anything else?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

"The storm has caused a lot of damage," he replies, the words coming faster, almost tumbling over each other. "Several buildings have collapsed, and the waves are getting worse. The ocean is rising."

"Great," you groan, letting out a huff. "Just what we needed."

"Yeah," Dash sighs, and there's a hint of desperation in his voice. "We're running out of time."

"Stay calm," you tell him, though the words are meant for yourself. "Just keep monitoring the situation. Let me know if anything changes."

"Yes, sir," he replies.

"And, Dash? Watch out for Screwball. Don't let him do anything stupid."

"Too late," the other trooper shouts in the background.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Yeah, okay. Never mind."

"I'll keep him safe, sir," Dash says with a weak laugh. "Good luck."

You close the connection, and you press the communicator against your forehead, taking a deep breath. The wind whips around you, the rain pelting your body, and the thunder roars above, a cacophony of noise. It's a fitting backdrop for the moment, a reflection of the chaos inside your head. You feel the darkness stirring within, its tendrils snaking their way around your heart, and you squeeze the railing tighter, trying to resist. Trying to fight.

You've never been a good strategist, but even you can tell this is a losing battle. Even if you were to somehow manage to make it to the barracks, there's no guarantee that you'll be able to turn the tide. You'll be walking straight into a firing line, and the odds are stacked against you. Still, you have to try.

After a few more minutes of trying to hail Cody, Obi-Wan, Anakin, anyone, it becomes clear the storm is causing the communications to fail. No amount of trying is getting you through, and you're fighting a losing battle against the frustration. If only you could use the Force, but the sheer amount of energy and concentration to reach out is not something you have the strength for, not after the battles.

With a frustrated growl, you slam your commlink down, the metal casing creaking. It's a pointless action, but it does make you feel better. For a moment, at least.

"Having trouble?" a voice calls out, and you spin around, the hilt of your saber already in your hand. Booker is standing behind you, his arms folded, a smirk on his lips. "Whoa, easy. I come in peace."

You lower your lightsaber, and you shake your head, a wry smile on your lips. "Sorry. Force of habit."

"You don't have to apologize, General." He steps closer and leans against the railing, his helmet tucked under his arm. The storm is picking up, and the wind is blowing his hair in all directions, but he seems unbothered, the rain trickling down his face. He turns to look at you, and he tilts his head. "I'll admit, I didn't think you'd be like this."

"Like what?" you ask, a note of caution in your voice.

"Well, like this." He waves his hand in a vague gesture, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don't know. I guess I just thought you'd be a little more...serious."

"I am serious," you insist, and he snorts, his gaze drifting to the sky.

"No, I know that," he chuckles. "But you've got to admit, you've got quite the reputation."

You sigh. "So I've heard."

"Don't take this the wrong way, sir," Booker says, his eyes shifting back to you. "But a lot of us were a little scared of you. Well, more like intimidated. We'd heard the stories, and we'd seen the footage, and well...you seemed pretty intense."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh? What changed your mind?"

"You saved my life. Twice. And you gave me a chance to lead." He shrugs, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on the railing. "You didn't have to do that, sir, but you did. I won't forget that."

"I'm glad," you say, and you give him a small smile.

"Plus, the fact that you're a general who cares enough about us to save our asses is pretty nice." He pauses and glances at you, and then he looks away, his gaze distant. "Most generals would have left us to fend for ourselves."

You don't respond, not sure what to say. The truth is, there's no doubt in your mind that some of the other Jedi would have done exactly what Booker suggested. They would have seen the clone as sacrifices that had to be made, and they would have moved on. After all, it's not their job to protect them, or to train them. Their duty is to the Republic, not the individual. To the greater good, not the lesser evil.

It's a lesson you're not sure you'll ever be able to learn, not completely. Maybe that makes you naive, or soft, or too emotional. But, you don't care.

"I won't abandon my men," you declare, your voice firm and determined.

"Good." Booker nods, and then he pushes himself away from the railing, his expression grim. "Because we've got a battle to win, and we could use your help."

"Sir," a trooper calls, waving you over. "We're ready."

You turn back to Booker, your hands gripping the hilts of your sabers.

“Let’s move.”

It's early morning by the time the battle is won, and the sun is just beginning to rise. You're exhausted, and Grievous and Ventress have escaped yet again, but you're still standing, and Kamino is once again under Republic control. It's a small victory, but one that's earned.

Your clothes are soaked, your body is bruised, and your limbs are aching, but it's a sweet kind of pain, the kind that comes with survival. And, despite the loss of many, the clones have never looked more alive.

The storm is finally receding, the rain now nothing more than a drizzle, and the sky is streaked with vibrant hues of gold and pink through the transparisteel windows. You've never seen a sunrise like it.

The view is beautiful, and it fills you with hope, a sense of peace that seems impossible in the wake of the devastation. The sun is rising on a new day, and you know the ones you care about have made it through the night.

You've already spoken to Obi-Wan and Cody, and you can't help the relief that's washing over you. Both are alright, though a bit worse for wear, and the two men are leading the cleanup efforts, trying to restore order and repair the damage that has been done. Anakin is a little roughed up, but he's still in good spirits, and he's taken over coordinating the search and rescue effort, which is much appreciated.

You haven't spoken to Rex, though. Not yet. You haven't even had a chance to breathe, let alone try to locate him. But you can feel his presence through the Force, and you know he's alive, and for now, that's enough.

You’ve dismissed your contingent from your command, but that hasn’t stopped them from approaching you as you walk with Booker toward the medbay. He’s escorting you for your safety. Or at least, that’s what he says.

You can tell he’s lying, and you can tell he’s worried about you. He hasn’t stopped hovering since the battle ended, and he keeps a watchful eye on your surroundings, his hand never far from his blaster. It's an amusing gesture, but you appreciate the sentiment, even if you find it irritating.

He's a good man, and you can't help but feel proud of him. He's young, and he has a lot to learn, but he's also smart, observant, and he knows how to read people. That, combined with his skill with a blaster, makes him an ideal candidate. He'll be a great commander.

But, first, he needs some time. Time to recover from his injuries, time to process everything that happened, time to get used to being a leader.

“Almost there, sir,” Booker says, tugging you along when you stop to shake Snap’s hand. He gives the clone a wink, and then nudges you again, forcing you to keep walking.

You laugh as you wave your hand at him. "I can manage, Booker. I'm not that bad."

"Yes, sir," he chuckles. He glances down at you, and you can see his expression shift from amusement to concern, his eyes narrowed. You realize he’s staring at the scar stretched across your palm, the one that has long since healed, and you quickly fold both your hands behind your back. You'd forgotten.

"Sorry, sir," he murmurs. "I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay," you assure him quietly. "I know it looks strange. But, it's an old injury. From before the war."

Booker nods, but he doesn't look convinced. You can't blame him. The scars are strange, jagged lines that stretch across the palms of your hand, the skin raised and pale. You've never really gotten used to the sight of them, preferring to ignore their existence completely. But now that you know for sure that Dooku is responsible, you've caught yourself tracing the lines more than once in recent weeks.

Booker clears his throat, and he gestures toward the entrance to the medbay. "After you, sir."

You give him a look as you walk past him and step through the doors, the smell of antiseptic and bacta filling your nose. The room is large, and the white walls and floor reflect the fluorescent lighting, making it feel even bigger. There are rows of beds lined up against the wall, and medical droids moving between the patients. The place is crowded, and the air is filled with the sounds of moans and whimpers.

A Kaminoan lingers in the back of the room, watching with an unblinking focus that unnerves you, and you do your best to avoid her gaze. You’ve had enough of the Kaminoans and their superiority for one day.

“Wise!” Booker calls out as he pushes you gently to sit on an open cot. “Got a fresh one for you.”

A bald trooper currently arguing with a medical droid freezes and turns, his expression sour.

“Can’t you see I’m busy—" He stops short when he sees you, and the furious glare tempers slightly. "Apologies, sir, I didn't realize. I'll be with you in a minute, okay? Just—shit, put that down!”

"Um, no problem," you mutter. "Take your time."

You can't help but smirk as he smacks the droid with the back of his hand and turns back to it, berating it for its incompetence. You turn and raise an eyebrow at Booker. "Wise?"

"Short for wiseass," Booker explains, snickering. "But, don't tell him I told you."

You chuckle, and you settle onto the bed, pulling your legs up and crossing them. You're exhausted. Your muscles ache, and your head is pounding, but you know you'll have to wait a bit before you can rest. There are still things to do, and reports to write.

You look around the room, trying to distract yourself. The medbay is filled with clones, all sporting various injuries, some worse than others. You see a few you recognize, men who have fought at your side, and a few that were part of the original group you'd saved. Their injuries are mostly superficial, though one has a broken arm. He waves when he catches you staring, and you give him a nod.

“Alright, what can I do for you, sir?” Wise asks, stepping in front of you. He glances down at the carbon scoring on your armor and the gash on your cheek, and he raises a brow. "You don't look too bad, to be honest. Nothing a few bacta patches can't fix."

"Trust me, I've had worse," you laugh, shaking your head.

"I'm sure." He sighs, and he leans against the bed, a grimace on his face. "Listen, I've been working nonstop for the past six hours, and I'm dead tired. I just want to go to sleep and forget today ever happened. So can you just let me take a quick scan and say it's all good, please?"

"Sounds good to me," you say, nodding.

He gives a grunt, and he pulls a small scanner from his pocket, waving it over your body. A beam of light sweeps over you, the data scrolling across the screen, and Wise hums to himself, checking the readings.

You sit there patiently, trying not to fidget. You've never liked the medscanner. You always feel like it's judging you, somehow. And, while you know it's just a machine, the sensation of the beam running over your body is still uncomfortable, the feeling akin to that of someone staring at you.

"Well, the good news is, there's no internal bleeding," Wise declares, looking up. He puts the scanner down, his expression serious. "The bad news is, you have a mild concussion, you're dehydrated, your blood pressure is low, and your heart rate is elevated."

"So, normal," you quip.

"She has jokes." Wise sighs and turns, rummaging through the medkit. He pulls out a bottle of pills and a bottle of water. "Take these, drink this, and rest. You can have a bacta patch for that cut, and then you can get out of my medbay."

"That's it?" you ask, frowning. You're so used to Kix's fussing, the fact that Wise isn't nagging you about everything is a bit of a shock.

"That's it," Wise confirms. He presses the items into your hands, his eyes narrowing. "What, were you hoping for something else? Like a kiss, maybe?

You choke, the water dribbling down your chin, and Booker snorts.

"Don't push it, vod," Booker warns, but his words are laced with humor. "She could take your head off."

"And I'd enjoy every second," you add, popping the pills into your mouth and downing the rest of the water. You wipe your lips, a smirk tugging at the corner as the medic rolls his eyes.

"Fine. Just let me take a look at that gash."

Wise moves closer, and his hand rests lightly against your face, his fingers tilting your chin up. He's surprisingly gentle for someone so brash and grumpy, his touch careful, his gaze focused. He hums, dabbing the disinfectant on the wound. You barely feel it.

"Looks like you'll live," he says. He holds his hand out, and a medical droid places a bacta patch in his palm. As Wise applies the bacta patch, Booker moves to stand next to him, his hands clasped behind his back.

"How are things looking, Wise?" he asks, his voice casual. You know he's checking on the men, but there's a note of concern in his tone, a worry that he's trying to mask.

Wise doesn't bother hiding it. He huffs and turns his gaze to Booker, his scowl deepening. "They're holding on, but not much more." He pauses and glances at you, his expression darkening. "Some of the boys have had it rougher than others, but, well, that's war."

Booker nods, and he glances around the room, his gaze moving over the wounded men. You can't see his expression, but you can feel the shift in his emotions. It’s the first time he’s lost a man, and it won't be the last.

"It'll be alright, Booker," you reassure him.

He's silent, but he gives a small nod.

"If you need anything, I'll be in the back," Wise mutters. He pats Booker's arm, the gesture friendly, and then turns away, walking toward the next patient.

"Thanks," you call. He doesn't respond, and you let out a sigh. "I don't think he likes me."

Booker laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His earlier mood seems to have lightened, and he clasps your shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"Are you kidding me? He loves you. I can tell," he insists. "That was practically a marriage proposal."

You roll your eyes. "Right. And I suppose you'll be my bridesmaid."

Booker opens his mouth to retort, but his gaze flickers, his attention caught by something. The medbay doors slide open, and a trooper in familiar blue and white armor steps through, his posture stiff, his helmet tucked under his arm.

Rex.

The room goes quiet, every clone in the room turning their head to follow his path as he walks. Rex doesn't seem to notice. He moves with purpose, his eyes scanning the rows of beds, searching.

He looks tired, his armor dented and scorched, his hair damp from the rain. There's a scratch on his cheek, a cut across his brow, and his bottom lip is swollen, split at the corner. But, he's alive. He's here, and he's standing.

And, he's looking for you.

You can feel the moment Rex sees you. His eyes widen, and he freezes, his jaw going slack. The wave of relief that washes over him is strong, so strong it's almost tangible. He lets out a shuddering breath, and his gaze moves over your face, taking you in. You do the same. And, for a moment, the two of you just stare.

Then, the world shifts back into motion.

Rex starts to move, his steps slow at first, almost hesitant, as if he's not sure he's seeing you. Then the hesitation disappears, and he's suddenly striding towards you, his gase locked on yours.

“Is that…” Booker straightens, his eyes wide, and he takes a reflexive step back. He gives a sharp nod to Rex as he approaches, and his hands fall to his sides, his fingers flexing. “Captain Rex, sir.”

Rex doesn't even acknowledge him. He stops in front of you, his chest rising and falling, his expression pained. His eyes roam over you, taking in the state of your armor, the gash on your cheek, and then, he finally meets your gaze.

You swallow, forcing yourself to breathe.

"We have to stop meeting like this," you say, trying to break the tension.

It doesn't work.

Rex doesn't say anything, but the pain in his eyes only intensifies, and the look is so raw, so visceral, that it takes your breath away. His mouth trembles, his lips parting, and his hand lifts, hovering for a second before falling to his side.

"General," he says, his voice hoarse.

"I'm fine, Rex," you assure him. You reach out and place a hand on his arm, giving him a reassuring smile. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting the air out slowly. When he opens his eyes, the pain is gone, replaced by something softer, and he gives you a small nod, a silent thank you.

“You okay?” you ask, and he gives a tight nod, his fingers flexing at his side.

"Yeah," Rex breathes. "You?"

"Never better."

He snorts, his lips twitching into a smile. "Liar."

"Maybe."

Rex shakes his head, and then, he finally seems to notice the man standing beside you. You glance at Booker, and you realize the clone has gone completely still, his back straight, his shoulders stiff, his expression one of awe and disbelief.

You bite your lip, trying to hide your amusement. You know the feeling. Rex is intimidating when he wants to be, and it's clear Booker is not immune to the Captain's commanding presence, or his reputation.

"Who's your friend, General?" Rex asks, his voice low. He raises an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing, and the corner of his mouth curves into a half-smile. You can feel his amusement, and it's a relief.

"Commander Booker, sir," Booker responds. He hesitates, his gaze flickering to you. "I...was assigned to the general. To protect her."

"Oh?" Rex's eyes shift, and he looks at you, his expression softening. "And, did you?"

"I did, sir." Booker sounds almost defensive, and his gaze darts to you, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "I mean, not that she needs my help. She's a Jedi. She can handle herself. But, I was...there."

Rex hums, his lips pressed together, and his gaze moves over the trooper, assessing him. You can't help but roll your eyes. Rex is being difficult, and you know it. But, he can't seem to help himself, and he's enjoying the discomfort on Booker's face far too much.

"He saved my life," you add, and Booker lets out a relieved sigh. "Twice, actually."

"Twice, huh?" Rex's eyebrows shoot up, and he looks at the clone again, a new respect shining in his eyes. "Good work, Commander."

"Thank you, sir," Booker says. His posture relaxes slightly, and he lets out a small breath, his shoulders slumping. "It was an honor to serve with the General. She's a good leader."

"That she is," Rex agrees. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like a moment with the General."

"Oh, yes, of course," Booker stammers, and he takes a step back. He turns to you, a questioning look on his face. "General?"

"You're dismissed," you say. "Go get some rest, Booker. You've earned it."

He hesitates, his gaze lingering on Rex, and you can tell he wants to argue. But, he's smart, and he knows when to retreat.

"Yes, sir." He snaps a salute, his helmet tucked under his arm. "Goodbye, General. It was a pleasure serving with you."

You smile. "Goodbye, Commander. I'll see you around."

He nods and moves away, joining the group of clones who are standing near the doors. They exchange quiet words, their voices hushed, and then, they disappear.

"I like him," you announce as the door slides shut behind them, and Rex lets out a soft snort.

"I'm sure you do," he says, shaking his head. "He seems...eager."

"Be nice." You roll your eyes and nudge him playfully with your arm. "He fought well today. I’m putting my recommendation in to have him promoted officially. I think he'd make a good leader."

“If he’s got your approval, he'll do just fine," Rex says, his voice quiet.

"You're probably right." You pause, and then, you tilt your head, looking at him. "Why aren't you with the other men?"

"I was, but..." He trails off, his jaw working. Rex takes a step closer and glances at Wise, who's hovering nearby, doing a poor job of pretending not to listen, and he clears his throat. “Is the General clear to go? We have a briefing to get to.”

Wise gives a curt nod, and he waves a hand toward the exit. "All clear, Captain. You can take her."

"Good." Rex looks back at you. "Ready, General?"

You sigh. The last thing you want to do is attend another pointless briefing, but you know it's important. So, you nod.

"Ready."

He holds out a hand, and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. You sway slightly, and his other hand settles at the small of your back, steadying you. He holds you like that for a moment, and then he releases you, his hands falling to his sides.

"Come on," he mutters, his eyes dark.

The two of you leave the medbay, the silence heavy between you. There's a tension in his posture, a strain in his voice, and a tightness to his jaw that tells you something's bothering him. And it's not just the eyes on the two of you.

"Is everything alright?" you ask.

"Everything's fine."

You study his face, trying to read his expression, but his mask is firmly in place, his thoughts hidden. It's easier to sense his emotions. Anger, frustration, pain, exhaustion, fear. All of it's there, swirling beneath the surface, but the reasons behind them are unclear.

Rex is one of the most self-contained people you've ever met, but you've gotten better at reading him over the months together. The slightest twitch, the faintest tremor, the briefest flicker. There's a whole language in those little things, and you're starting to learn it. And, right now, he's struggling.

You glance around the hallway, noting the curious eyes that linger, the whispers that follow, the stares that bore into your back. But the further you walk, the less people there are, and the quieter it becomes. Soon, the only sound is the steady thud of Rex's boots and the hum of the ventilation system.

“So, where’s the briefing?” you ask, trying to fill the silence. Your arms extend above your head in a stretch, and a yawn escapes your mouth, making you feel even more tired. You can't wait to sleep.

“There isn’t one,” Rex admits.

Your arms drop, your brow furrowing.

“Then why did you…”

Rex stops and turns to face you. His hands are clasped behind his back, and he's standing tall, his shoulders squared, his head held high. He looks every inch the soldier. A perfect example of discipline, restraint, and control.

But, his eyes betray him.

He's afraid.

You blink, surprised, and you open your mouth to speak, but Rex shakes his head. He reaches out and grabs your arm, tugging you into a nearby alcove, and you stumble after him. His grip is gentle, but there's a firmness to it that warns you not to fight him.

Once the two of you are alone, Rex releases your arm and takes a step back, and his hands ball into fists at his side. He takes a deep breath, his nostrils flaring.

"Rex," you say, trying to catch his attention. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

He doesn't answer. He's staring at the floor, his brow furrowed, his mouth set in a firm line. His jaw clenches, and his lips part, as if he's about to speak, but no words come.

You watch as his hands flex, the fingers curling and uncurling, and he runs a palm over his face.

"No, I'm not okay," he finally says, a rough exhale escaping him. His voice is strained, his words coming out in a low rasp. "I thought...I thought...for a minute, I..."

The realization hits you, and you close your eyes, taking a shaky breath.

He'd thought you were dead.

He'd thought he'd lost you.

And, judging by the look on his face, the pain he's clearly trying to mask, it's shaken him more than he'll ever admit.

"Rex," you breathe, your heart sinking.

You'd felt his emotions when the battle started, the worry and fear that had radiated from him, but you'd assumed it was because he knew what was coming, and because he was worried about the other men. You never thought it was because of you. Because he was scared for you.

You'd been so focused on your own feelings, on the dread and anxiety that had plagued you, that you'd never considered the possibility that Rex might feel the same way. That his thoughts might drift to you. That he might wonder if you'd made it through the storm.

The realization is painful, and it brings a lump to your throat. You feel guilty, and ashamed.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I didn't mean to worry you."

His gaze drops, and he shakes his head. "No, it's not your fault. I'm the one who's sorry. I should have...I shouldn't have let it get to me. I know better than to lose my focus like that. I just...when I heard the explosion, I..."

He stops and lets out a ragged breath, and his body sags, the fight draining out of him. You step closer, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek. His skin is warm, and his stubble scratches against your palm. Rex leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed, and his head tilts to the side, his nose brushing against your wrist.

"It's okay. You're allowed to be upset." You offer a small smile. "You're only human."

Rex doesn't say anything. He just sighs and covers your hand with his, pressing it closer to his skin. You can feel his pulse beating rapidly beneath your fingertips, and his grip tightens, as if he's afraid to let go.

"You're going to make me cry," you joke weakly, but the truth is, his pain is almost unbearable. It's too close, too real. You can feel it echoing inside you, and the weight of it is almost crushing. You hate seeing him like this. You hate knowing that you're the cause of it.

"Please don't," he mutters. His voice is rough, and there's a raw edge to it that makes your stomach twist.

"Why not?"

"Because I'll probably start crying, too," he confesses, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest as he opens his eyes. "I've had a rough day."

You let out a weak laugh, trying to fight the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You blink, and a single tear rolls down your cheek.

Rex's eyes widen, and his face falls.

"Now you've done it," he grumbles, but there's a tenderness to his words that makes your heart swell.

His hands move to your shoulders, and he gently pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your body. Your face buries in his neck, and his chin rests on the top of your head.

"I'm glad you're alive," he whispers. His grip tightens, his fingers digging into the back of your robes. "When I didn't see you after the battle...I didn't know what to think. I couldn't find you. I didn't know where you were, or if you were even..."

You squeeze him harder, letting him know you're here, and he makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. You can feel his body trembling beneath your touch, and his hand reaches up, cupping the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair.

"I'm not going anywhere," you murmur, your voice muffled as you bury your face further into the crook of his neck.

Rex lets out a shaky breath. "Good."

You stand like that for a long moment, the two of you clinging to each other, neither of you willing to let go. You can feel his heartbeat slowing, his muscles relaxing, and his breathing evens out. His grip loosens, and his fingers trail through your hair, his nails scratching lightly against your scalp.

He needs this. He needs you. And, for once, he's letting himself have it

You know the feeling.

The war has taken its toll on both of you, and the weight of it has been a burden that you've borne separately and together. The endless battles, the constant stress, the loss of life. It's all wearing you down. You want to comfort him, to give him the support he so desperately needs, but you're not sure how. Not when your own emotions are so tangled. Nothing seems right, nothing seems enough. And, the words that come out are inadequate.

"We made it," you say, and the words sound hollow, even to you. "That's all that matters."

Rex makes a small noise, almost a laugh, and his hand moves to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing along the base of your skull.

"Yeah," he breathes. “Yeah, we did."

"We're okay," you remind him, pulling back to look him in the eye. You give him a smile, and he returns it, his eyes crinkling. "I promise."

Rex studies you for a long moment, his gaze moving over your face, as if trying to memorize every detail. His expression softens, and his hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the bacta patch.

"I'm going to hold you to that,” he murmurs. His voice is rough, his tone serious, but the corner of his mouth curves into a half-smile.

"Good. You should.”

"You know, if you keep saying things like that, I'm going to start thinking you actually care," he teases, his fingers trailing along your cheekbone.

You roll your eyes, and your hands move to his chest, pushing him away. He chuckles and pulls back, releasing his hold on you.

"You know what I meant," you say, wiping away the wetness from your cheeks. "And, for the record, I do care."

"I know," he replies softly, his eyes flickering. He clears his throat and glances away, his cheeks flushing, and you can't help but smile.

"I was worried, too," you confess. Rex's eyes snap back to yours, and his eyebrows rise. "About you, I mean. About all of you. I thought...well, I thought a lot of things. And, I'm glad none of them came true."

"Me too," he agrees. "I don't know what I would have done if..." He trails off, his voice fading, and his lips press into a firm line. He swallows and takes a deep breath, his hand moving to the back of his neck, rubbing at the tense muscles. "Sorry. I didn't mean to drag you into an empty hallway just to have a breakdown. I just..."

"You needed a minute," you finish, and he nods, his shoulders slumping.

"Something like that."

"You have nothing to apologize for," you tell him, giving his arm a squeeze. "It's been a rough day for all of us. And, you're not the only one who's a little shaken."

"You're right," he concedes, letting out a long exhale.

You pat his arm and offer him a smile, trying to lift his mood. “Besides, if we're keeping track of emotional breakdowns, I'm still way ahead of you. You're gonna have to try a lot harder if you want to catch up."

Rex huffs and shakes his head, his lips twitching.

"Well, I don’t think this war is ending anytime soon," he quips. "I'll have plenty of opportunities."

"True."

You give a sigh and lean against the wall, resting your head back. You can feel the exhaustion starting to catch up with you, and your body is heavy, the weight of the past few hours weighing down on you. You close your eyes and let out a groan, wishing you could just crawl into a bed and sleep for the next ten years.

Rex moves to stand beside you, his shoulder pressing against yours. The heat radiating from his body is comforting, and you lean into him, savoring his closeness. He turns his head, his eyes searching your face, and you meet his gaze, a faint smile on your lips.

"Thank you," he murmurs. "For letting me have a minute."

"Any time," you tell him, and you mean it. He's done so much for you. He's given so much of himself. You'd give anything to ease his pain, and if a minute is what he needs, you'll give him that. It’s the least you can do.

His lips part, as if he's going to say something, but no words come out. His eyes drop to your mouth, and his jaw tenses, his throat bobbing. Then, he shakes his head and lets out a soft chuckle.

"What?"

"Nothing," he says, and his gaze lifts, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "You're just...you're a good friend, General."

The word friend stings more than you expect, and you bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself not to grimace. You can't blame him for saying it. Not when it's the truth. You are his friend. But a small part of you had hoped...well, it doesn't matter.

"Right," you say, your smile a little strained. "So are you."

Rex gives a nod and turns his gaze away, looking down the hallway. He seems lost in thought, his brow furrowed, his lips twisted, and you watch as he looks left and right, checking to see if the coast is clear. There's a moment of hesitation, and then, he sighs and turns back to you, his expression softening. He looks almost shy.

"I..." He stops and takes a deep breath, as if he's steeling himself for what's to come. "Here."

He pulls up his vambrace, and you watch, confused, as he taps a few buttons. His finger hovers over one of the controls, and then he presses it.

A second later, your commlink begins to chime. Your eyes widen, and you quickly pull it out to silence it, staring at the display that pops up. You glance up at Rex, and his cheeks flush, his hand rising to the back of his neck as his eyes avoid yours. He's nervous. He should be. He’s breaking about a dozen regulations by giving you his private frequency, and you know it. He knows it.

And, yet, here he is, giving it to you anyway.

It's dangerous, risky, and foolish, but neither of you seem to care. The war is already hard enough, and the idea of keeping each other at a distance, especially now, is an unnecessary cruelty. So, you don't argue. You save the contact, and you tuck your commlink away, giving him a smile.

"Just in case," he mutters, his gaze finally meeting yours.

"In case what?"

"In case you need me," he says. His voice is quiet, but there's a strength to it, a resolve. "Or, in case I need you."

You stare at him, unable to speak. The look in his eyes is so tender, so earnest, that it takes your breath away. There's something else there, too, something deeper, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You have to look away.

"Got it," you manage.

Rex gives a small nod, and he pushes himself off the wall, moving to stand in front of you. His hands settle on your shoulders, his thumbs tracing circles against the fabric of your tunic.

"We'll see each other soon," he promises. "Just...let me know when you get back to the Temple. Okay?"

"I will," you agree.

"Good."

Rex gives you one last smile, and then he releases you. You watch as he walks away, his footsteps echoing in the corridor, before he disappears around the corner, leaving you alone.

You take a deep breath and try to compose yourself, smoothing the front of your robes. Your hands are trembling, and your heart is racing, but you ignore the feelings, burying them. It's just stress, you tell yourself. It's been a long day. You're just tired.

Your eyes trace the panels along the walls, and you stare up at the ceiling, the white lights overhead. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, clearing your mind. When you open them, you feel calm, the momentary panic fading.

There's a sudden ping from your commlink, and you jump, startled. Your fingers fumble with the device, and you quickly bring it up, tapping the display.

Stay safe.

The words make your heart skip a beat, and you type out a response without hesitation.

Always.

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#the clone wars #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #roy writes #event horizon #forcing everyone to read about my clone ocs like a proud grandparent pulling photos out of their wallet #but hey!! relationship progression!!

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