#to which I reply “how are you planning to stop me?”

[ghstzzn]

roommates for dummies!

pairings: lee heeseung x f!reader, jay park x f!reader, jake sim x f!reader, park sunghoon x f!reader

synopsis: desperate to get off of your bestfriends couch, you decide to reply to an ad online in search of a roommate. sure, you were skeptical about living with four men—but if anything, just desperate. it wasn't long before you started to completely regret this decision. however, some things just might be worth the stress and anger.

part one! wc: 5.7k

tags/warnings (for this part): SMUT. theres no fivesome happening (sorry..), threesome(s), fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, pullout method, oral ( m rec), deepthroating, cum eating/cum play/just cum stuff ig, voyeurism, degradation, name calling, some praise, manhandling, sex standing up idk just trust me, no aftercare, silly bit at the end, heeseung thinks he's sooooo funny! that's it for this part i believe.

🍊: havent posted smth fr in awhile kind of nervous. not much happens except sex but thats the point of this. by the way this is one of three/four parts ♡ enjoy and Uhhhhhh uhhhuhhh uhhhhhhhh

masterlist / part two

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

you savored every second you spent outside of your new home.

sure, you were beyond grateful to have a place to live. in fact, you were lucky considering how quickly you got in this situation. losing your old place due to unforeseen circumstances, a.k.a, your ex boyfriend kicking you out of his apartment after you caught him cheating on you despite you paying more than half of his rent.

though, you figured his new girlfriend could handle that portion now.

you crashed on your friends couch for a few days, actively searching for anyone looking for a new roommate. she assured you that you could stay as long as you needed, and there was no need to rush, but you were stubborn and had quite the false sense of being independent. 

which is why you clicked on the first ad you saw. a nice five bedroom house, the spare having its own bathroom and it was closer to campus unlike your last apartment. you couldn’t find much information on the poster, but you were desperate so you quickly dialed in the number on screen and waited while it rang.

you were taken aback when a male voice loudly boomed from the other side. you pulled the phone away from your ear and double checked the number— it was typed in correctly.

“hello?” he spoke again. “hellooooooo-”

“uh, sorry.” you cleared your throat. “i saw an ad online that you were looking for a new roo-”

the male cuts you off, “yeaahhh. man, was wondering when someone would respond.” you cringe at the way he interrupted you. “you lookin’ for someone else? no offense but you sound a little… y’know, like a girl.”

you let out a sigh, nodding even though he couldn’t see you, “i’m calling for myself… i wasn’t aware you were a man but– actually, i’m a little desperate.”

“yeah? desperate?” he chuckles. you raise an eyebrow at the response. “alright, can you meet me here then?”

caught off guard once more by the sudden eagerness of the stranger, you stuttered out a quick yes.

“cool. i’ll text you the address n’ shit.”

the phone hangs up, not sparring you a moment to respond. you blink as you stare at your phone, watching as you receive a few messages from the number you had just called. 

at least you had other options if this didn’t go as planned.

jake spun around in the barstool at the kitchen island, letting out a puff of air as he waited patiently.

“you waiting for something?” jake turns his head towards the voice. jay walks through the kitchen, chewing on some kind of protein bar.

the antsy male leans forward against the counter, “our new roomie. she said she’d be here ten minutes ago.”

“oh.” jay responds before stopping in his tracks as he actually lets jakes words enter his brain. “wait, what? new roommate? she?”

“yeah man,” jake lets out another huff. “she’s late.”

“no, run that back.” the other male draws circles into the air. “when the fuck did we get a new roommate? and why is it a woman?”

“we have a new roommate?” another voice rings through the kitchen.

jake turns around in his chair with a sigh, “yes guys! jeez, you all need to learn patience– she’ll be here soon.”

“she?” the voice, belonging to heeseung, questions. 

“that’s what i’m wondering!”

“ladies please, one at a time.” the male stands from his seat. “we have a new roommate, yes. she’s a woman, also yes.”

heeseung furrows his eyebrows, thinking for a moment before jay speaks up once more, “don’t we get a say in this? or at least some type of interview?”

“is she hot?” heeseung chimes in immediately after, receiving a scoff from jay.

“totally.” jake snickers. “her voice told me enough about her. sounded so nervous too, it was cute.”

“you don’t even know what she looks like?”

“you seriously only think with that dick of yours.” heeseung comments, shaking his head.

“says you!” jay frowns at the other roommate.

the doorbell rings twice, drawing the attention from all three males. heeseung straightens his posture, quickly checking his appearance in the reflection of the stainless steel refrigerator. jay finishes his protein bar in one bite and clears his throat.

jake rolls his eyes at the two, “careful now, don’t pop a boner in front of her.”

he practically skips over to the door, almost giggling out loud. he pulls the front door open just before you ring the doorbell once more. “was starting to think you weren’t gonna show.”

you look him up and down, quite shocked at the attractive face he had.

“uh, yeah, sorry about that.” you respond, clearing your throat. “traffic was heavy.”

“that’s okay, babe.” he opens the door wider, inviting you in, not even hiding the way his eyes immediately land on your ass as you walk in front of him.

your gaze immediately fell on a taller man with red hair, who you assumed was heeseung (you weren’t viewing this house without stalking the people who resided in it), now wearing a beanie and leaned over the counter with his chin resting on his hand. he shot you a crooked smile and waved his fingers at you. 

“hey roomie.”

jay looks at the man in disbelief; and so do you.

“i’m actually just here to tour and interview… right?” you turn to look at jake who shrugs.

“i mean we all agreed you could move in.”

“since whe-”

jake cuts jay off and steps closer to you, “you said you were desperate right? you don’t seem like a weirdo or a bitch so just give us a move-in date and you’re good.”

you squint your eyes at him, confused and questioning this entire thing. your friend's couch doesn’t seem like a bad idea, she even offered to renew her lease for a bigger space in a few months. 

“we promise we won't bother you or anything,” he continues, “you have your own bathroom and the door has a working lock. swear on our lives you’ll barely see us.”

before you could even respond, the front door opens and slams shut. a taller man walks past you and jake, clearly locked into whatever was on his phone. he continued to walk past the kitchen before stopping and spinning around.

“new roommate.” heeseung tells him. the other male lets out an “oh” and nods his head at you before walking away, probably to his room.

you let out a sigh and the three remaining boys turn their attention back to you.

“can i just see the room?” 

-

bothering you was the only thing these fools ever did. 

the front door shuts with a slam and you’re immediately greeted by heeseung sprawled out on the couch scrolling through his phone, completely ignoring the mess leftover from their small house party from last night. the one that kept you up half the night despite begging them to turn in early for the sake of your sanity.

you run your hands through your hair, frustrated that the house looks exactly the same as it did early this morning. well, save for the leftover food that heeseung managed to put in the fridge. kicking off your shoes, you make your way into the kitchen and grab the trash bag that was left on the counter and start tossing all the empty beer cans and disposable cups in.

heeseung looks up from his phone to find the source of the angry slams and movements, smirking when his eyes land on you.

“woah there,” he calls out to you, “wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”

you look up from the trash bag, throwing a can in it with so much force it somehow bounces out, only fueling your anger, “save it.”

heeseung chuckles, standing up from the couch and stretching while letting out an obnoxious groan. he walks around the couch and leans against the back of it.

“are you gonna help or just stand there?” you motion towards the mess on the counters.

“no, yeah, i think i'll just stand here. i’m kind of loving this scene with you in the kitchen.” 

you look at him, disbelief written all over your face, “so you’re lazy and a misogynist, nice!”

“what? no,” heeseung looks almost offended at your accusation. “no, babe, i’m not a misogynist– i literally love pussy. i could prove that to you right now if you’d like.”

“not a misogynist, just horny. got it.” 

your roommate only shrugs and pulls out his phone once more. the carefree attitude of his was only adding to the frustration building in your chest. you cross your arms and glance around. “where are the others?”

heeseung hums, you only assume he’s using the full power of his brain as he recalls the whereabouts of the other three roommates, but really he’s only focusing on how your tits bounce ever so slightly with every angry movement if your arms.

“jake’s asleep, jay’s attending a group meditation and sunghoon… should be home in a few. why? miss them?”

you wanted nothing more than to take the metal scrub pad near the sink and scrub at the stupid smirk on his face. instead, you nod and take a deep breath.

the door opens just on cue however. sunghoon walks in, kicking his shoes off in two different directions with a bag of full of bottles clinking against each other. the noise of the liquor bottles only added to your rage.

“really? more alcohol?” you comment and point towards the counter where a few unopened and opened bottles sat. “you have all of this– plus the entire mini fridge full of drinks.”

sunghoon raises a brow at you, “okay. but that’s liquor for functions, not me.”

you wave your hands in front of you. it made zero sense to you.

the taller male looks at sunghoon, “what’s wrong with her?”

“man, i don't know.” heeseung replies with a sigh, “she came in here all pissy and started slamming shit.”

they were having a conversation about you– in front of you.

“what? why?”

he shrugs again, “like i said, don't know. maybe she should follow jay to one of his meditation sessions.”

you roll your eyes, “you’re not funny, heeseung.” he lets out a snicker. you grab a rag from the counter and chuck it in his direction.

sunghoon whistles at the action and sets the bags he was holding onto the counter.

“i’m seriously regretting this whole living arrangement.”

heeseung pouts and crosses his arms over his chest dramatically, “hey! we aren’t that bad to live with.” he protests, though his tone is playful. “at least give us a chance to redeem ourselves. look, we’ll help clean up the rest of the mess.”

you sigh and nod, it’s the least they could do but you won't protest. turning around, you glance at sunghoon, who was now storing away the liquor he had bought and the leftover bottles. 

“...except, it looks like you’ve finished.” heeseung grins. “thanks, darling.”

you shoulders fall in defeat, “i fucking hate you.”

he chuckles loudly as you study the room. he was right. you had completely cleaned the kitchen, minus the few liquor bottles that sunghoon had just stored away.

“no, no. she missed one thing.” sunghoon calls out causing the two of you to whip your heads in his direction. he crouches down and picks up the can that bounced out of the trash bag earlier and tosses it in the trash. “hah, how funny is that? it was right next to the bag too.”

heeseungs no longer holding back his laughter. you question whether or not the dude is blasted out of his mind right now because you definitely didn’t find a single thing about this funny.

“hey, chill.” sunghoon butts in, “i’ll wipe down the counters and shit.”

you turn to face him, “did you by chance buy any cleaning supplies while out?”

“no, why?”

heeseung laughs louder, wiping at his eyes. 

“i really don’t understand what could possibly be so funny about any of this.”

his laughter eventually dies down, finally shutting up. “sorry, sorry.” he clears his throat. “but seriously, thanks for cleaning up. you’re a real one for that.”

you hum and let out a sarcastic sure, heeseung nods and walks past you, patting your shoulder causing you to scrunch your face in disgust. you turn to follow his figure with your eyes, but you catch sunghoon staring at you.

“what?”

“hm, nothing. just wondering when you’re gonna snap out of your little tantrum.” he responds calmly, leaning against the counter. “it’s getting old, to be honest with you.”

you bite your lip, holding back a response to him. you watch as heeseung wipes his hand on a paper towel, throwing it on the counter right after.

sunghoon sighs dramatically, shaking his head. “seriously, what’s the big deal? nobody here is forcing you to clean up after us.”

“but it’s all the time,” you groan. “the constant parties and get-togethers you host while i’m trying to sleep after a long day or studying– then having to come out and clean it all up because you three are nowhere to be seen? i can only deal with so much.”

his expression hardens and heeseung leans against the counter with a bored expression, “well, maybe if you’d let loose for once and joined in on the fun every once in a while, instead of holing yourself up in your room like a hermit, you wouldn’t be so uptight.”

“fuck off.”

sunghoon scoffs, “my point exactly. you’re so uptight and bitchy— it’s not fun. you aren’t better than us for that.”

“sorry i don’t want to be involved in your weird ass parties.” you respond with a shrug.

“such a princess,” heeseung giggles, “always complaining, never participating. seriously, they aren’t as bad as you make them seem.” 

sunghoon nods in agreement, “yeah, i’m telling you that you’d be able to tolerate us a lot more if you cared to let go of that boring, angry personality of yours and showed up.”

you throw your hands up, more than done with the conversation. “whatever, i don’t care anymore. just… just clean up a little more. it’s all i ask.”

heeseung pouts exaggeratedly, eyeing the way you surrender in defeat “oh come on, princess. don’t be like that.” he tries to sound apologetic, “we’re only messing around with you.”

“yeah! we don’t care if you prude around alone in your room!” sunghoon adds, “but just for you, we’ll clean up after ourselves, your highness.”

“you both are childish.” you spit out, biting the inside of your cheeks as the frustration threatens to spill out in the form of tears.

heeseung grins, not at all put off by your insult, “childish? rich coming from the girl who’s about to cry from a little teasing.” he taunts, voice laced with amusement.

you scoff in response, turning around so you could leave the situation and escape to your room, but sunghoon has other plans as he steps right in front of you. his arms automatically wrap around your waist to steady you, his face mere inches away from you as you look up at him, shooting him a glare.

“where do you think you’re going, princess?” he flashes you a knowing smile, voice low and teasing.

you attempt to lean away from his face that only seems to inch closer, jumping slightly when the back of your head comes into contact with heeseungs chin. “to my room– away from the two of you.”

“oh, don’t let us stop you then.” heeseung grins from behind, his cheek nuzzling against your hair. 

“let me go then?”

“but we weren’t done,” sunghoon attempts to feign a pout, but his smirk grows stronger as he studies the way your body reacts to him, “we still have to thank you for cleaning the mess up.”

heeseung hums against your ear, “seriously. how sweet of you, doll.”

“you can thank me by leaving me alone.” you mumble, though you do nothing to back away from the situation. you couldn’t deny the way your heartbeat sped up from being sandwiched between the two, or the way your core pulsed from the way sunghoon traced small patterns into your side.

sunghoon chuckles, all knowing of what was running through your mind, “aw, but where’s the fun in that?” he asks, hands sliding down to your hips, giving them a teasing squeeze. “we love spending time with our favorite roomie.”

your hands fall on top of his, unsure on whether or not you should remove them from your hips. his eyes follow the movements of your hands, letting out a soft chuckle as he watches the way your mind struggles against the need you feel for the two.

“mm, not so fast baby.” heeseung purrs, his hot breath hitting the shell of your ear. “what did we say? gotta give you a proper thank you.”

“how?”

sunghoon smiles, looking at heeseung before turning his attention back to you. “they say actions speak louder than words,” he responds. “we’ll make sure to make it very clear just how grateful we are for you.”

you gulp as he responds, your thighs clenching together at the tone of his voice. the gaze in his eyes told you exactly what the two men wanted from you, the way they looked at you as if you were prey.

heeseung grows impatient from behind, his face nuzzling against your skin as he peppers kisses down your neck until he reaches your shoulder, biting the skin causing you to let out a gasp. he chuckles darkly before tucking his finger under the thin strap of your tank top and letting it fall off your shoulder.

he lifts his head and switches to your other shoulder, resting his chin on your shoulder as he travels his hand down your torso, reaching the waistband of your shorts.

your automatic response is to grab his hands but sunghoon shakes his head and grabs them, linking his fingers between yours and bringing them up to his shoulders. he leans in closer, his breath ghosting your cheek.

sunghoon begins planting soft but deliberate kisses against your skin, following the trail that heeseung had left earlier, kissing and sucking the bite mark left by the other male.

the man behind you takes the chance, shoving his hand down your shorts that he had undone moments before while you were distracted. he grins when he doesn’t feel any other fabric beneath your shorts.

“isn’t that just convenient?” he grins, giddy at the fact that you weren’t wearing underwear. 

“w-wait,” you stutter out, suddenly aware of where you were standing.

sunghoon grips one of your hands, guiding it over his chest, “shh, it’s fine.”

heeseungs hand dips lower, his middle finger sliding through your slit. he lets out a groan before removing his hand from your shorts but quickly yanks them down, letting them fall to your ankles.

you let out a small yelp due to the quickness of the male. he glides his finger from your dripping hold, gathering your slick and moving to your clit, tapping it a few times before pressing down. 

“can’t believe you’re already this wet just from a little bit of touching,” he groans against your shoulder. “really thought we’d have to ease you into this– but you wanted this bad, huh?”

sunghoon smirks against your neck, lifting his head, wanting to see your face as heeseung pleasures you with his fingers, “c’mon, don’t tease her. poor girl probably hasn’t been touched properly in awhile.”

“is that true?” the male behind you questions softly but teasing, “were you just waiting for one of us to fuck you stupid?”

their teasing voices combined with heeseungs fingers massaging at your clit cause you to let out a soft whine. one buck of your hips has sunghoon reaching down and holding your hips in place for heeseung to continue his attack on your sensitive bud.

“you don’t even have to respond,” sunghoon mutters, “look at the way you’re whining and squirming.”

heeseung slips a finger in your core, pumping a few times before slipping another one inside of you. the feeling of your warm cunt walls wrapped around his fingers is enough to send him reeling, he grinds his hips into your ass with a grunt. 

the male in front of you has to tighten his grip on your hips, rolling his eyes. you let out a loud moan when heeseung curls his fingers inside of you, he brings his other hand to cover your mouth.

“don’t wanna wake jakey up, do you?” his voice is low, hot breath hitting the side of your face. you shake your head desperately as he continues to finger fuck you, scissoring and curling his fingers, hitting the sensitive spot inside of you with ease.

“look at her, hee.” sunghoon mumbles, admiring the way you look between the two men, “so pretty like this, isn’t she? if i knew this was a good way to get her to shut up, i'd have done it earlier.”

heeseung chuckles darkly, lips trailing against your neck once more, “she’s so fuckin’ greedy too. literally dripping down my hand… aren’t you, baby?”

you let out a muffled whine and nod your head shamelessly. 

“yeah? you’re doing so good like this,” he continues, “but i think you need more.”

heeseung pulls his fingers out of you and removes his hand from your mouth. you’re about to question him but he’s pushing you forward while pulling your hips back against him. sunghoon holds you steady as the male behind you undoes his pants.

“take your time, hee.” sunghoon comments, slowly losing his patience. “jay’s gonna be home soon.”

“‘m fucking trying,” he mutters in response, successfully freeing his hardened cock with his one hand. “hold her still and shut up.”

sunghoon rolls his head back in irritation and tightens his grip on you.

“you’ll need to cover her mouth too. i’m not sharing her between you and jake today.”

your taller roommate doesn’t respond again but brings his hand up to your mouth with a smirk. you whimper softly through his hand when you feel heeseung slide his tip through your wetness, gathering it on his cock. he rocks his hips a few times, teasing your clit before catching onto your hole and slowly pushing in.

“fuuuck,” he hisses. “she’s so damn tight, sunghoon.”

“just fuck her,” sunghoon responds impatiently, he tilts his head down at you. “that’s what you want right, babygirl?”

you let out a muffled grunt when heeseung bottoms out inside of you. he waits only a few moments before pulling out almost completely, then pushing back inside of you with more force and speed. 

the two men have you perfectly held in place, controlling the movements of your body as heeseung speeds up his thrusts. each rock of his hips draws out a moan from you, covered by sunghoons hand.

heeseung groans softly, his pace never slowing as he takes all the pleasure he can get from your body. “she’s seriously so tight.” he growls, his grip tightening on your body. “feel that? feel how well you wrap around my cock, baby?”

your eyes squeeze shut from the pleasure. your cunt continues to squeeze around his cock as he pounds into you. sunghoon watches the way his roommates cock disappears inside of you, the way your juices glisten everytime he pulls out before slamming back in.

his own cock twitches in his pants, he’s so painfully hard and getting impatient. sunghoon wishes it were just him here instead of heeseung, wishing it were him being the one to fuck you– and only him. you let out a high pitch whine as heeseung speeds up his pace, his tip hitting your g-spot deliciously. he brings a hand down to rub at you clit, causing you to jump from the overwhelming pleasure. 

“mm, she jus’ gets tighter.” he slurs, drunk on the way your pussy sucks him in. “you like that, don’t you? shit.. y’gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”

your eyes are shut, in a complete daze from the way his cock is fucking you. sunghoon smirks at the sight, in love with the way you’re fully enjoying every second of this.

“minutes ago you were about to rip our heads off,” he coos, “now you’re over here drooling on my hand over some cock. just a little slut, aren't you? maybe i was wrong about you being a prude.”

heeseung’s barely keeping it together behind you as his hips meet your ass with haste, hissing and groaning with each thrust. he’s uncoordinated and sloppy yet still hitting that spot deep inside of you, throwing your body towards sunghoon, who keeps a bruising grip on you as the other male pounds into you.

your past self would be embarrassed to see you now, yet, you couldn’t feel an ounce of shame at the moment. it feels as if heeseung’s fucking all the frustration out of you.

it’s dirty. the way the two men have you sandwiched in the kitchen— straight out of a cheap porno. every time you start to think about jay or jake strolling in and catching the three of you, it only makes your core throb more with need.

“what are you thinking about?” sunghoon whispers, leaning closer, offering his chest for your head to lean against. “hmm, baby? you thinking about something else while fucking yourself on heeseungs cock?”

the male mentioned lets out a loud groan, gripping your hips and pulling you back harder against him. you could tell he was close, as were you. your hands tug on the fabric of sunghoons shirt, attempting to pull yourself up. but with his hand on your mouth, you can’t let them know so you rely on your body language. 

“gonna cum for me?” heeseung grumbles, leaning closer to you. his thrusts are deep and rough as he chases his high. “c’mon, cum on this cock…” 

you feel your cunt flutter around him as you hit your peak, a muffled squeal leaving your mouth as you finally cum. heeseung pants, giving you a few more thrusts before pulling out completely and fisting his cock until he’s cumming all over your lower back and ass.

sunghoon removes his hand from your mouth causing you to take a deep breath, he wipes his hand on his pant leg which goes unnoticed by you. 

“jesus-” heeseung breathes out from behind you, hand gripping the counter. “fuck, that was good. why didn’t you tell me you felt this good before?”

you don’t reply to him– you just continue to lean against sunghoon as you regain all composure. the tall male keeps a hand on your waist as the other slowly unbuckles his belt. your other roommate redresses himself after using a paper towel to wipe himself down, giving your ass a small smack in the process.

“yo,” sunghoon calls out to him, earning a raised eyebrow in response. he cocks his head behind him. “keep jake in his room, yeah?”

“now?”

the man you were still using as support scoffs, “yes, dude. now..”

heeseungs stands there for a moment, looking at you as you finally turn around, slowly reaching to pull your shorts up. he clicks his tongue and walks off with a groan.

as soon as his footsteps fade away, sunghoon yanks your arm away from the article of clothing and pushes you against the kitchen counter. you gasp when the cold countertop makes contact with your skin. “s-sunghoon!”

he smacks his lips and pushes your sticky lower back down to keep you still, “you seriously thought i was about to let you walk away? after you made me watch him fuck you like that?”

he lifts his now cum covered hand off your back, studying it for a few moments. “not gonna let me have any fun? especially after you used me like a fucking wall?” he grips your face with his other hand, leaning over you as he shoves his fingers in your mouth.

the thick salty flavor hits your tongue immediately and you close your lips around his soaked fingers, the rest of the cum on his hand completely coating your chin and jaw. 

“you like that?” sunghoon chuckles darkly. “you know how pathetic you look right now?”

you groan around his fingers as he rocks his hips against you, grinding his bare cock in your slick. he doesn’t waste a second before shoving himself inside of you causing you to bite down on his fingers from the sudden full feeling once again.

sunghoon hisses in response, pulling out before roughly thrusting into you. the corner of the counter is digging into your hip but you couldn’t be bothered to resituate yourself. he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and snakes his hand in between your thighs, pressing against your clit as he starts to pound into you. his other hand is on the back of your neck, a tight grip as he uses it to stabilize himself.

your own cum is dripping down your thighs as sunghoon’s cock forces it out with each thrust. it’s truly a struggle to stay quiet, your moans are coming out in rough whimpers and deep breaths. you lay your upper body flat against the counter and hide your face in your arms to help muffle your sounds of pleasure.

though it wouldn’t even matter if anyone could hear your cries because the sound of wet skin slapping against each other could surely be heard from the other side of the neighborhood. 

“fuck, you’re taking me so good right now. heeseung loosened you up for me, didn’t he?”  sunghoons voice is low and rough, almost stuttering over his words. “so fuckin’ greedy for cock– look at you.”

if it weren’t for your arms, your face would be squashed into the hard countertops from the sheer force of his hand around the back of your neck pushing it down. sunghoon doesn’t notice, nor does he care about his roughness because truly all he cares about is cumming. 

you can hear the door slam and you try to lift your hand, in sheer panic, but sunghoon shoves it back down with a grumble. 

“t’sup?” sunghoon lets out a sigh and throws his head back.

“nothing,” the voice, belonging to jay, responds. he throws a few envelopes on the counter and sighs. “another noise complaint– like dude, who fucking cares? they act like the cops are gonna bust us or something.”

never in a million years did you think you would be getting backshots while two people had a completely casual conversation as you were between them.

sunghoon groans, his pace barely slowing, “my parents own half this fuckin’ neighborhood.”

“that’s what i’m saying! these complaints are useless.” jay responds, an annoyed tone lacing his voice. “is that– y’know what, i’m tired. clean the counters when you’re done.”

and with that, jay is walking away. you only hope he’s heading to his bedroom. however, your entire body is hot with embarrassment yet you feel yourself about to cum any second.

“fuck– sunghoon! s-slow down.” you barely cry out as you cream around his cock. he rolls his eyes, not that you could see, before pulling out completely. 

you take a deep breath before he grabs you and spins you around, pushing you to your knees. your hands fly to his thighs, trying to catch yourself before bruising your knees. 

sunghoon spares you a wicked smirk before tapping the tip of his cock against your lips, in which you invite him in with zero hesitance. he doesn’t start slow, immediately pushing his cock to your throat, enough to bring tears to your eyes before pulling out to let you breathe.

and he does it again. and again. until you're coughing around his cock.

“yeah, just like that, baby.” the male sighs, hand gripping your hair. he lets you take another deep breath before shoving his cock deeper down your throat. “look at you gagging– fuck, this is so good.”

he repeats his actions until his cock is twitching with the need to cum. sunghoon gives a few thrusts before pulling back slightly and cumming all over your tongue and throat. his release was almost too much for you, but he didn’t care that it was dripping out of your mouth, or that you were borderline choking on it.

“swallow.”

you try to shake your head no but he only tugs on your hair, “you can.”

shakily, you cover your mouth as you gulp, swallowing his sticky release. sunghoon chuckles, completely satisfied. 

“you’re so fucking easy, you know that?” he cooes. his thumb, sticky with heeseungs earlier release, wipes at your tears. you can only stare at him as he continues to degrade you. “oh, don’t be ashamed, princess, it’s perfect for us.”

you wipe at the corner of your mouth before grabbing your shorts that are laid close by. grabbing the counter edge above, you pull yourself up, not at all wanting to ask for sunghoons help. he leans against the counter, fixing his belt, completely uninterested in you.

slipping the shorts on felt useless in front of him. what was there to hide at this point?

“i’m gonna shower.”

“yeah, sure. i’ll try not to use any hot water for the next hour.”

you give him a nod. well, this is fucking weird. but you honestly would rather take this than it be awkward. genuinely, you would rather not have him force himself to give you soft and sweet aftercare. 

“jays cooking tonight!” sunghoon calls out to you as you head back to your room. you roll your eyes and push your door open.

you: 

    hypothetically, i have this friend who wanted to move out of her current place because she HATES her roommates but she just fucked 2 of them…. at the same time and suddenly doesnt want to leave

from: chaewon 💓

       what the FUCK did u just say to me

you:

     so basically im fucked

🍊: @filmnings @deobitifull @leov3rse @hooniehon @roslayy @strxwbloody @cutiepatootiejungwon @jakeswifez @yuriknows @d-dilemma (bold couldn’t be tagged / taglist open!)

[seasprincess]

nerd!rafe x popular!reader

mdni

warnings: smut-handjob, pathetic sub!rafe, this is not cannon Rafe AT ALL

Rafe Cameron is a quiet nerdy boy with about no friends. Where as you, you’re loud and popular, friends with everyone.

Ever since you had joined the school Rafe’s eyes have been on you. Watching you laugh and smile with the people that flocked to you like moths to a flame.

He couldn’t help admire you in a way. But mainly he was admiring your beauty.

He has never spoken to you of course. God no he wouldn’t dream of it. Well that’s not entirely true.

He’s dreamt of it, thought of it, imagined it while his hand was around his length. But not in a perv way of course. No no. Not in the way the other boys do it. In a sweet way. Right?

But no, he couldn’t talk to you. In the world of high school. Rafe isn’t allowed to talk to you. He’s too ‘low’ for you. Which he thinks is stupid but he can’t rewrite the social laws of the school.

So he’ll just sit in class staring at you instead of doing his work. Not like he needs to do more work in class. He’s smart enough to pass a test with just a glance. So here he’ll sit waiting for his chance to talk to you properly. Instead of that couple times you were sweet to him, sticking up for him and that one time he said thank you for you holding open the door. And god did that thought make his heart beat.

But soon enough, here’s his lucky day.

“Rafe, you’ll be working with y/n.” The teachers words ring in his head as his eyes are pulled up from the desk. He turns to face you and sees that you’re looking at him. And he c-wait-you’re looking at him.

He does a double take before seeing you wave at him. A small gesture that means so much to him you don’t even know. So he does a wave back. But he’s shy and awkward so now he’s stressing that he looked weird and seeing your friends giggling and whispering doesn’t help the feeling he’s embarrassed himself.

So quickly he turns away, back to the page on his desk. Drawing random lines on it to make it appear he’s doing something. Doing anything other than looking at you and gawking.

Why does he have to be so shy and embarrassing? Why can’t he be like the popular people like Bryce and Zach? They can just talk to everyone and just be confident all the time. He hates himself for his anxiety that is in the bottom of his stomach everytime anyone even breathes to close to him. He hates it so much th-

“Hey partner.” Rafe’s brought out of his spiral of thoughts when you speak to him. He’s frozen looking up at you, is this real? Or is he dreaming?

“H-hey.” He says, pushing up his glasses on his face as he adjust in his chair.

“So when we doing this project?”

“Anytime. Anytime that’s good for you, I’m free. Like all the time. I’m not doing…anything.” Rafe decides to stop himself from babbling and making himself look like a complete and utter loser.

But all you’re doing is smiling at him. Not pulling the disgusted face he’s use to.

“Tomorrow night? My place?”

“Yeah sure.”

“Cool, don’t have snap so I can send you the info?” You say as you pull out your phone. Waiting for him to respond to you.

Rafe rubs the back of his neck as he thinks how to reply to this. He couldn’t say that his mom doesn’t allow him to have social media and even if he was to have it he wouldn’t have enough friends anyway.

“No. I don’t use snap anymore.” He lies.

“Oh right okay. Insta? Tiktok?”

Rafe just shakes his head.

“I can give you my number?”

“Yeah sure okay.”

Rafe gets out his phone, a tiny phone that was probably made eight years ago that his mom told him was ‘cool and trendy’. She’s so wrong it almost hurts.

Rafe had been waiting and waiting for this day. Yes the plans were arranged yesterday but he’s just so excited it’s almost sad really.

But after making his way to your house and you giving him a tour of the mansion you live in. You’re now both sat on your bed.

He’s in your room.

On your bed.

“No you’ll have to tutor me.” You say as you smile before looking back at the work that’s in front of you. You’re laying on the bed as Rafe is sat stiff.

“Tutor you?” Rafe asks, adjusting his glasses again for the second time this minute.

“Well we’re doing this project and I don’t get what it’s about so you’ll have to help me.”

Earlier when Rafe started talking about the project he had presumed that he’d been doing it all himself like he’d usually do with other people. But you insisted you’d actually help. Even if you have been distracted a couple times.

“Yeah sure.” Rafe replies as he smiles, looking down at you. He’s rather close to you it’s making his heart beat so fast. If it beats any faster it’ll pop out his chest like in those cartoons. His eyes might also pop out his head too. We’re just waiting for that.

God he’s so close to you he can smell that perfume you wear every day to school. It hasn’t changed since the first time he met you.

He’s just watching you lay on your stomach on the bed, writing down some things. He just can’t seem to pull his eyes away from you. You just look so beautiful and calm. Of course he has to go and ruin it.

He’s just staring, and before he thinks he leans in and kisses you. His soft lips pressing against yours until he realises what’s happened and pulls back.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He says as he starts panicking. Of course he’s ruining things like he always does. He may be smart when it comes to academics but he’s so stupid when it comes to social situations.

But all you do is smile. Just smile at him before pushing up and climbing onto his lap.

“Oh, oh. Okay…” He says as he holds his breath and looks anywhere but you. His hands don’t touch you. Just in the air, frozen in place by this very unexpected action from you.

So you place his hands on yours hips looking at him before your hands are placed on his cheeks. Gently rubbing them as you look down at him.

“You have a crush on me Rafe?”

Rafe nods as he stares into your eyes. He’s too shy to say anything, and also incredibly aroused by having you here. On his lap. His hand sneaks as he brings it close to his face to adjust his glasses. He look looks up at you like a puppy.

He’s so cute and shy it makes him all the more attractive to you. Some people think he’s all these things but unknown to him you’ve always had some feelings for him. Even if you did try and stop them.

Your hand travels downs Rafe’s body until it reaches his zipper. His dick twitching in his pants as he lets out a low whine. He’s so pathetic it’s so hot to you.

“You want me to touch you Rafe?”

This has escalated very quickly, and as scary it is to Rafe. It’s very exciting for Rafe too. He’s never even held hands with a girl. Or spoken to one for longer than thirty minutes. Twenty minutes. Ten minutes at best.

“Yes please.” He whines out as he wriggles lightly underneath you, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He has thought about thus situation before but this is not how he was expecting at all.

You smile as you start to kiss him, lips pressing softly against Rafe’s. His lips are soft, different to what you’ve kissed before. Your tongue slips into his mouth which is met by more whines from the boy underneath you.

Your hand slips into Rafe’s pants and before he can say a word you start to stroke him. His dick hard and leaking with precum. He feels slightly embarrassed but that’s quickly stopped as you begin to go faster. And all he can think about is how good it feels and how much better it is than his own hand.

The moans and whimper from this man is heavenly. Making those panties you chose to wear just for him wet.

“Please, please can I cum?” Rafe is begging for this. Begging for this release from you. His whole body is practically shaking. He knows he’s acting needy and pathetic. But he can’t help it. He’s practically brainwashed by you.

He’s a man who could genuinely have any job he’s ever wanted but here he is whining for you. Whinging and moaning and begging. A possible future president is begging to cum.

“Yeah baby. Cum for me.”

You will definitely be doing this again.

a/n: don’t know how to feel about this one and i am still upset over bae’s eyebrows.

[bangtan-junkie]

Dissonance (Part 2) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (f)

Part 1, Part 2

Genre/Tags: coworker!JK, enemies to lovers, smutttttt, slow burn (ish?), ANGST

Word Count: 6799 words

Synopsis:

After being left alone and humiliated on the floor of a dirty bar bathroom by Jungkook, you had to pick yourself up off the ground (literally). You had to get even, embarrass him like he'd done to you. Maybe you were mean to him before, but you were about to become a nightmare to humble this man. Unfortunately for you, your anger was short sighted, while Jungkook's wasn't. So you never predicted how your plans might backfire on you...

Note:

it's finally fucking here omg. ik it's super late but i'm finally decently satisfied with this. i'm looking forward to writing part 3 bc that's where the tension finally breaks and y'all aren't even ready for the revenge y/n gets lol. i hope y'all enjoy this and it lives up to part 1! i'd love to know your thoughts, if you're still pissed with jk lol, and any suggestions or requests are always welcome! chatting with you guys is my fav part <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dread consumed your senses from the moment you woke up. The weekend had passed, but your chest still burned with rage at the thought of having to see Jungkook again. You hadn't even noticed the time go by over the last two days, too busy seething in your own anger. If you hated Jungkook before, you loathed him now. You forced composure as you got dressed for work. Jungkook already had the upper hand when he'd left you in the bar bathroom. He knew that you'd seen him with the girl afterwards too. You couldn't even think about whether he'd went home with her that night without being sick. After all that, the last thing you wanted was for him to think he had any kind of effect on you. You were going to go back to work with pride and confidence. At least you wanted to.

When you finally got to work, you made a beeline for your desk, pointedly not looking for Jungkook. As you settled in, one of your coworkers stopped by your desk.

"Oh hey Y/n, you feeling any better?" he asked. Your head whipped up, a gentle voice ripping you away from your resentful thoughts. You looked up at him in confusion, eyes settling on his red hair. "From Friday? You left early because you weren't feeling well?"

"Oh, right," you cleared your throat. Just then, you saw Jungkook's unmistakable figure from the corner of your eye. He was talking to someone but you could feel his eyes boring into you. Your blood began to boil but you forced yourself to stay calm. You refused to indulge him at all. "I'm feeling much better actually, thanks Jimin," you replied, shooting your coworker a sweet smile. Jimin was your acquaintance in the office; someone you could actually stand in that place. He was always kind and helpful which automatically made him better than 70% of the people there. Even though you hung out in the same circles, you never really became close friends. Probably because you were always more focused on how annoying Jungkook was whenever you were out. And you were doing it again. You made conversation to force any thoughts of him out of your mind.

"How does your hair seem more red every time I see you?" you asked with a light-hearted laugh.

"I can't be caught slacking. I put in a lot of work to keep this hair ya know," he smiled back at you.

"I still don't know how you got permission from the boss for that," you gestured to his hair. "I asked before and she shut me down so fast." Jimin laughed at the annoyed expression on your face, finding it endearing.

"I guess I'm just that charming," he shrugged, holding back a chuckle. You couldn't help but snicker. Jimin's jokes weren't that different from Jungkook's, but he wasn't obnoxious about it. Jungkook obviously believed his jokes and thought he was god's gift to the world, which made him insufferable. Jimin, on the other hand, didn't take his jokes too seriously and wasn't constantly flirting with anything that moved.

Jungkook, who was barely listening to the person talking to him, had heard your exchange with Jimin. He felt annoyance build in his chest. He knew that if he'd made the same joke, you would've been rolling your eyes and making fun of him. So why were you giggling when Jimin said it? He tried to distract himself by trying to focus on the conversation he was supposed to be having.

A quick chat with Jimin later, you turned back to your desk. You made the mistake of looking up and caught Jungkook's gaze. He looked at you, an indifferent look on his face. He wasn't sure what he was expecting; maybe you'd look away in embarrassment, maybe you'd glare at him angrily. But what he didn't expect was the cold, empty look you gave him - like you were looking right through him, like he wasn't even there. His brows furrowed for a quick second, even more annoyed now. You went right back to work.

That's how the next few days went by. Every time Jungkook was remotely in your vicinity, you'd look through him without ever acknowledging him. If he even tried to walk your way, you left the room immediately. At first, Jungkook thought you were just being childish. But when you regained your confidence after a few days, he knew that you weren't through with him just yet. If he thought your insults were bad before, the newfound loathing you had for him made things ten times worse. It started with you amplifying the spite in your voice when you insulted him for his work. You refused to speak with him directly either, so all the insults were being thrown indirectly and in front of your other coworkers. With every second this continued, Jungkook felt his patience running thin. But if you were stubborn, so was he. He kept up your little game by firing back with his usual sarcastic or flirty remarks. Internally, he was burning with fury, just like you wanted him to.

All the animosity and anger eventually came to its boiling point when you crossed the line for the last time. You had walked to your desk that morning to find that your boss had paired you and Jungkook on the next project. Your skin crawled at the idea of having to work with him over the next few weeks. Part of you wondered if Jungkook had something to do with this. Thinking about him getting your boss on board with making you his partner for this big project was only adding to the fire that was spreading through your body. You already hated the way your boss melted around him, but to think that he could manipulate her to this level? After spiraling for a few minutes, you forced yourself to take deep breaths. You had to remind yourself that you were jumping to conclusions and then convince yourself not to march over to Jungkook's desk and give him a piece of your mind. You tried to get back to work, but all you could think about were what reasonable excuses you could make to get out of this situation. The rest of your morning was spent racking your mind. With no luck, you decided to join your coworkers for lunch; hoping that it would give you a distraction.

Unluckily for you, Jungkook walked into the staff lunchroom soon after, only to find you and some of your other coworkers chatting around the coffee machine. Well, they were chatting and you were busy glaring him down from the second he stepped into the room. Your dark eyes peered at him over the rim of your mug as you sipped your coffee. You knew that there was no way in hell he was going to approach you to talk about this. The solution to your problem practically fell into your lap when you zoned back in to the conversation around you. If he really did get the boss to put you on the project with him, you'd make him regret that decision.

"I can't believe you got that huge project Y/n! You're so lucky," one of them said, playfully pouting.

"Talk about lucky," someone else chimed in, "You even get to work with Jungkook. But I guess that isn't so lucky for you." They laughed lightly, poking fun at you. Clearly they hadn't noticed that Jungkook was in the room, listening.

"Everyone here knows how much you hate him, even the boss. Really, what was she thinking pairing you guys up?" They continued to laugh at your misery. But you weren't annoyed. Instead, your mind lit up with the perfect way to get under Jungkook's skin in that moment. The second he saw the way your eyes lit up, he knew he was in for it. Jungkook prided himself on the fact that everyone liked him and thought highly of him. So what better way to get your revenge and get him to kick you off the project than to take that away from him?

"Yeah," you said skeptically, "She's never paired us up before." You continued to stare directly at Jungkook. Your coworkers looked at you with confusion and amusement.

"What changed this time?" Jimin's voice rang through the room as he walked in to join you. He'd already spotted Jungkook in the other corner of the room, and he saw the dark glint in your eyes. It was clear to him that you were up to something. So he helped you out by stirring the pot a little. Jungkook squinted his eyes at you, annoyed at seeing Jimin again and wondering where you were going with this.

"I think Jungkook really wanted this project," you answered. "And it's easy to get whatever you want when you're fucking the boss," you said, not breaking eye contact for a second. Gasps erupted across the circle as they all looked at you in disbelief. Jimin's brows raised and he scoffed, slightly taken aback that you were making that accusation. But you were more focused on Jungkook's reaction. The look on his face was beyond furious. His eyes darkened and you saw the tick in his jaw as he clenched it.

"Wait, you really think so?" one of them asked, everyone already engrossed in the gossip.

"He is a manwhore," you shrugged. Jimin stifled his laugh, not wanting to be too mean to Jungkook. You finally looked away from Jungkook and back at the group. "And he always gets the good projects. Boss doesn't favour anyone else like that." Your coworkers immediately started gossiping amongst themselves, making random connections because what you said made sense. Some of them already started getting riled up, thinking that their opportunities had been snatched by Jungkook through the boss. You obviously didn't know for sure whether Jungkook was sleeping with your boss or not. But you didn't have to. You just had to plant the idea and you knew your coworkers would jump to conclusions.

"You must be really pissed at him," Jimin whispered, leaning back against the counter. You felt Jungkook's eyes glaring daggers at you but you paid him no attention.

"I promise he had it coming," you whispered back, a devious smirk settling on your lips.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," he chuckled. You just shot him a smirk. When you glanced back at Jungkook, you barely caught him walking out the door. You didn't know what you were expecting. Maybe you wanted him to lose his shit in front of everyone, or yank you out of the room with him. So the disappointment you felt only annoyed you more. By the time you finished your lunch and made your way back to your desk, you already began hearing whispers about Jungkook and your boss. For a moment, you wondered if this was crossing the line. Definitely. But so was getting you to blow him and ditching you in that bathroom. Now you're even. You couldn't help but smile, knowing that he must be seething about the rumours.

A couple hours later, you were being called to your boss' office to discuss the new project she'd assigned you and Jungkook. You reluctantly grabbed your things and made your way there. You couldn't keep in your scoff when you saw Jungkook already there, making your boss giggle about god knows what. Your boss cleared her throat as she noticed you in the doorway, peeling herself off her desk from how far she was leaning forward towards Jungkook. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Way to be subtle.

"Y/n," she announced, "Come, sit down." You forced a smile as you sat down in the chair next to Jungkook. He didn't say anything to you, didn't even bother looking at you. Just being in his proximity was pissing you off, especially since he had nothing to say to you. Obviously he couldn't say anything in front of the boss, but you wanted to see that you'd made him just as angry as he'd made you. Maybe all this rage was clouding your mind and judgement...but who cares?

You pulled out your pen and began taking notes as she started talking about the project. Despite hating working with Jungkook, you weren't going to let that ruin your work on this project. You rolled your eyes when you saw that he wasn't taking notes at all. Of course. As your boss began wrapping up the conversation, you gathered your things again, getting up to leave.

"Listen you two," she started, her tone changing. You raised your brows and sat down, curious what she had to say. "I know you don't like working together, but this is an important project. So please, put your feelings aside and work on this together." You scoffed, forgetting to keep your composure. That's when Jungkook finally looked at you. His eyes were fiery but he looked vaguely amused that you had the courage to scoff at the boss. Your boss was also looking at you expectantly, waiting for an explanation. That was all you needed to decide that maybe you weren't even with him just yet.

"Sorry, but it's not about feelings. Our work ethics don't match. I'd rather work on this alone," you said, straightening your back as you felt like you were in the spotlight. Your boss didn't look too happy.

"This isn't a one person project Y/n," she pointed out.

"I know, but it would honestly be easier to do the work myself instead of having to chase him around, begging him to get anything done." The amusement quickly disappeared from Jungkook's face.

"Excuse me?" he finally spoke. You ignored him.

"Maybe we can switch him out for someone who's actually focused on their work instead of flirting," you boldly stated. Your boss scoffed in disbelief.

"What is your problem? Do you think I want to work with you?" Jungkook spat, just about done with your shit. He shifted in his chair to face you, one hand gripping the armrest hard enough to see the whites of his knuckles. Oh now he had something to say.

"You're lucky to be working on this with me. Or else this project would've gone to shit," you retorted with an equal amount of spite.

"There's a reason I'm on this project Y/n. Because I'm good at my job. So if you're letting your personal feelings affect your professionalism, you need to get a grip." His words stung but you refused to accept that there was some truth to them. He was giving you a taste of your own medicine; humiliating you in front of your boss like you were doing to him. All your self control and common sense went out the window when you felt that embarrassment.

"Yeah, that's why you're on this project," you said sarcastically, referring to the rumour you'd started a few short hours ago. You could practically see his nostrils flare as he willed himself to keep his mouth shut.

"You're out of line Y/n," your boss jumped in. She hadn't heard the rumours yet, but she could clearly see that Jungkook didn't like the implications of what you had said. "I don't care whether you two like each other or not. You will put aside...whatever this is...and work together on this, and that's final," she said firmly. Irritation coursed through you, seeing her take Jungkook's side yet again.

"Yes ma'am," you barely grit through your teeth. You'd be darned if you got fired over Jungkook. You quickly stood up and left, rushing to the file room for a moment to cool down. It was the only place you could get some silence - no one ever really stepped into the filing room because most of your work was stored digitally anyways. You pressed your back to one of the metal cabinets, sliding down to crouch as the door slowly shut. You took some deep breaths to calm down. If you went back out there now, you would rip someone's head off. How did Jungkook have the audacity to continue being a dick to you? You knew you'd without a doubt crossed the line back there, but despite that, you didn't feel even with him yet. After a few moments of dragging your mind away from these thoughts, you took one last deep breath and stood back up. You straightened your skirt and fixed your hair. Since you were already there, you decided to grab some files you needed for the project before going back out there. You turned around, pulling a drawer open and digging through the files before you found them. Just as you pulled them out, you heard the door open behind you. You already knew who it was, getting a waft of his cologne. Your heart already began beating faster, not knowing what to anticipate. There was a beat of silence as the door slowly shut.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jungkook grit through his teeth, trying to keep his voice down. You didn't bother turning around or replying to him. Any semblance of self control he had left snapped when you didn't even acknowledge him. With three quick strides, he was right behind you, pressing you face flat against the cabinets. He yanked one of your hands behind your back, making you drop your files. You yelped as his entire body caged you in, slight panic rising in your chest.

"You don't get to ignore me now," he snapped, voice low. "You haven't shut the fuck up for the last few days, don't start now." He yanked your arm down further so he could hold your wrist with one hand. You groaned at the ache, but decided against complaining about it. His anger was palpable; you could practically feel it seeping through your skin, igniting your own fury. In the shock of the moment, you'd almost forgotten that Jungkook wasn't the only one with reason to be upset. This was all a consequence of his insanely disrespectful behaviour, and he had the nerve to be mad at you now?

"What is it? What's got you so fucking riled up, hmm?" He sounded bewildered, gritting the words through his teeth. The more he pressed against you, the harder it got to ignore the heat building in you. An ugly satisfaction was creeping through you seeing the way you'd managed to get under his skin. This was what you wanted; to see that you'd affected him.

"Didn't get enough cock last time? That it?" he growled, bending down next to your ear. His words pierced right through you, as if he knew exactly which buttons to press.

"Fuck you," you spat before you could compose yourself. You strained in his hold, your arm coming up to elbow him in the ribs. To your dismay, Jungkook predicted your move and held you tighter, keeping you still.

"I thought it'd be enough to keep you satiated for at least a week. But you're just a cock hungry whore hm? " he taunted, his lips grazing your ear and sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. "I should've fucked your throat a little harder. Wouldn't be able to lie about me to everyone - including our boss - then, would you?" Despite the bitterness in his voice, your body reacted to his words. Your mind was scolding itself for the rush of arousal that coursed through you. How was he still affecting you like this?

You shook your head clear. No. He wasn't going to have his way this time.

"Lie? I haven't lied about anything," you replied with a snarky tone. Jungkook chuckled in disbelief. He quickly flipped you around so you were forced to face him. You didn't hesitate to meet his ravenous gaze with your own.

"No? So you really think I'm sleeping with the boss?" he asked, tone getting serious. You shrugged nonchalantly, annoying him more.

"You'll fuck anything that moves," you jabbed. "At least fucking the boss has some real benefits unlike the girl from the bar. Maybe she'd even give you a raise if you could satisfy her properly." Jungkook couldn't hide the disgust that flared across his features; insulted that you thought so little of him. The urge to shut you up was growing stronger by the second, burning through his insides. You were going to drive him insane.

"Watch yourself," he warned, the words coming out dark and gravelly. But the surge of excitement that you felt, knowing that you had managed to provoke him, was addicting. You wanted more.

"If it was anyone else, I'd be all for it. Get that bag, you know?" you said with indifference. "But you? I thought the boss had better taste. Her bar must be in hell." That was enough for Jungkook. Before you even had a second to process what was happening, one of his hands was wrapped around your neck. His fingers dug into the flesh, limiting your breath in the most delicious way.

"You didn't seem to think so when you were begging me to touch you - to fuck you in a dirty bar bathroom," he growled, stepping closer, face inches from yours.

"Yeah, obviously I expected too much," you sneered. "You don't know how to please anyone but yourself. Boss must be a real masochist to keep going back to you. Poor thing," you tutted, knowing you'd practically nailed the head in your own coffin before you'd even finished your thought. Jungkook's face contorted in a snarl as his grip tightened around your throat. You gasped, the dark swirl in your core intensifying.

"Maybe I should talk to her," you patronized, chasing the high from pissing him off. "I can recommend someone who can actually make her feel good - get her off. A man. Not a selfish boy," you emphasized. "Think she'll like me better than you after that?" With that, his other hand was pressed firmly against your mouth, effectively shutting you up. You grunted at the sheer pressure of his hold, now struggling to breathe.

"You just don't shut up, do you?" he spat. The look in his eyes was nearly feral; like he was going to eat you alive. His ego took a hit to your words, even though he knew you didn't actually believe everything you'd said. Still, you seemed to be stuck on his 'selfishness'. It infuriated him that you didn't understand why he wasn't giving you what you wanted, but he'd had enough of you running your mouth. If you'd forgotten how easily he made you melt under his touch, he'd just have to remind you. And make sure you never forgot again.

With each passing second of silent seething, you thought he might actually choke you out. But then he let go of you. You gasped for air, coughing as you caught your breath. Just as you were about to shoot him the dirtiest look you could muster, Jungkook sank to his knees. The snarky remark on your tongue vanished as you watched him kneel in front of you, looking up at you with a carnivorous gaze. Lust consumed your senses as he wordlessly loosened his tie, tugging at the collar of his shirt. You'd think that seeing him on his knees would make you feel more powerful in the situation. But the hunger in his eyes made it clear that he was still very much in control.

Simply put: Jungkook, in a suit and on his knees, was enough to wipe away your last bit of common sense.

"This is what you want, right?" he asked, his hands slipping under your skirt. You felt paralyzed, your breath caught in your throat. His hands moved up your thighs, slowly dragging your skirt up with them. "You wanna cum, yeah?" You were genuinely struggling to form any thoughts, your senses heightened.

"Want me to make you cum?" A strangled groan bubbled in your throat at his tone. He'd barely done a thing and your breathing was already heavy. So much for your resolve. As your skirt bunched above your hips, you suddenly became hyper aware of your situation. You were still at work, in a file room, door unlocked.

"Someone could walk in," you gasped, trying to convince yourself that you didn't want this. He ignored you, trailing his fingers down your hips and legs instead. "We've already been gone for a while. What if someone comes looking?" You desperately tried to focus your wandering mind.

"I guess I should hurry then," he sneered, shooting you a glare. Then his fingers were sliding between your legs, making you close your eyes and sigh as they eased the ache in your clit. By that point you were too far gone to even feel embarrassed about having soaked through your panties. Jungkook hissed as your slick coated his digits. "I put the bar in hell, but still, you get so wet for me," he snapped, adding more pressure. For the first time all day, you had nothing to quip back with. Your sweet silence was like music to his ears. Mindful of the time, Jungkook hooked his fingers in your underwear and pulled them down your legs. You knew there was no going back as you stepped out of them. Your knees felt weak as you watched him hastily shove them in his pocket. But before you could ask what he was planning on doing with them, he hooked a hand under your thigh, lifting your leg up and to the side. With your legs spread and your pussy staring him in the face, Jungkook was struggling to control himself. He wanted to tease you - make you beg and plead - but he didn't. Fuck. He couldn't; not when he felt like he'd lose his sanity if he didn't taste you right away.

Without wasting another second, his lips were pressed to you, the velvety heat of his mouth engulfing you as his tongue licked at your wetness. Your mouth was left agape as your hands buried into his hair, using the locks to keep yourself tethered. Jungkook groaned into your heat; he felt like he was getting drunk off of you. His fingers dug into your thighs as he hungrily lapped at your pussy. Your eyes rolled back and you let out a drawn out moan as his lips wrapped around your clit, creating the perfect amount of suction. You would've thought he was starved seeing the vigor with which he ate you out. He didn't stop, didn't pull away for a single breath - too consumed with the taste of you on his tongue. You were embarrassingly close already, struggling to contain your moans and whimpers. You bit your lip, trying to hold them in, but another particular harsh lick to your clit had you groaning Jungkook's name. Seeing you unravel so quickly only fueled Jungkook's appetite; the sound of his name on your lips going straight to his aching cock. All it took was him groaning into your cunt after that to send you over the edge. Your fingers yanked at his hair, desperately pulling him closer as you felt the white heat build up.

"Jungkook, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," you cursed, voice whiny as you tried to keep quiet. "Gonna cum," you moaned right as you crashed over the edge. Jungkook felt you tense in his hold as you came on his tongue. He diligently lapped at your slit, sure to pay attention to your clit as well to help you ride out your orgasm. He slowed down as you came down from your high. Naturally, your legs tried to close together once his tongue became overstimulating. But Jungkook's hold was firm, keeping your legs apart. You tried to catch your breath, mind reeling from the mix of pleasure and pain flooding your senses.

"Jungkook... wait," is all you managed to get out. He ignored you again, picking up his pace despite your cringing.

"So fucking good," he growled against you, like he hated admitting it to himself. It felt weird hearing him compliment you after all the bickering and degrading earlier. Yet you couldn't deny that it boosted your ego seeing him so fucked out and angry. He pushed you further up against the cabinets, giving himself better access to you and delving his tongue into your dripping hole. And just like that, the sensitivity was replaced with a delicious pleasure once again.

"Please, wait..." you breathlessly pleaded. In contrast to the last orgasm, he was building this one up slowly. Unfortunately for you, that meant it felt twice as intense and you were getting increasingly worried about being caught.

"Thought you wanted to cum, sweetheart," he mocked. "That's why you're being such a bitch, right? Mad that I didn't make you cum last time?" he grit through his teeth. You cursed him under your breath, but were more focused on the feeling of his soft lips against. You finally looked down at him properly, ready to glare at him. But the second you saw his dark eyes staring up at you, the rest of his face buried between your legs, you lost your train of thought entirely. Then you saw his hand sprawled across your lower stomach while his thumb rubbed circles into your clit. Fuck, why was he so hot?

"What if we get caught?" you half-heartedly complained, trying to muffle your whimpers.

"They'll see what a fucking slut you are for me then," he grunted. You slapped a hand over your mouth when he picked up his pace, continuing to plunge his tongue in and out of you. "Keep your hands down," he demanded, pressing harder on your clit. "You're gonna keep moaning like that for me," he hissed, delving right back into the heat of your cunt. In that moment, all you heard was his demanding tone and your hands instinctively went back to his hair without a second thought. You whined, trying to keep your voice down as he slowly built up your pleasure.

"Good," he praised, his words muffled as he continued to eat you out. "I should make you scream, so that everyone knows that you, Y/n, are cumming on my tongue." His words were bitter but they turned you on more. You clearly had some problems. It didn't take very long after that to feel that white heat building up again. Jungkook could tell you were almost there, so he sped up the pace of his fingers and plunged his tongue deeper into you. "Including our boss," he rasped. And then you were cumming again; gripping tightly onto his hair and groaning his name once more.

"There you go," he coaxed, letting you ride his face. You hadn't realized, but at some point, your hips had started moving on their own. Seeing you with your eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open, as you unraveled under his touch, only fueled Jungkook's hunger. When you started coming down, he finally pulled away; giving you a second of reprieve. That was until you looked down to see his blown out, dark eyes staring at you. His mouth and chin were covered in your juices and he looked ravenous. He quickly pulled off his suit jacket, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt, eyes never leaving yours. Your chest heaved; partly because you were still catching your breath, and partly because of how fucking hot Jungkook looked in the moment. His hands went right back to your thighs, pulling them apart once more.

"Wait, what're you doing?!" you asked, eyes going wide. "I can't cum again, please," you nearly cried. His fingers dug into your thighs as he watched you plead.

"You can and you will," he said firmly. "You know why?" He slid his fingers between your folds, gathering all the wetness that had pooled. "Because you fucking love my touch," he growled. Your already weak knees felt even weaker.

"You're so desperate for it; for my mouth, my fingers, my cock." Your legs threatened to buckle under you if it weren't for Jungkook's hand holding you up. "So desperate that you're being such a fucking brat," he spat. "Trying to piss me off. So, what? So that I'd finally touch you again?" he mocked. Your senses were overwhelmed and his words settled in a pit in your stomach. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes; whether it was because of his harsh words or the overstimulation of his fingers, you weren't sure. Just as you were about to retort, Jungkook slipped a slender finger into you which slid in smoothly with how wet you were. He let out a throaty groan, quickly slipping another finger into you and curling them upwards. You nearly doubled over as he pressed right into your g-spot.

"See how tuned your body is to me? I've barely done a thing and you're already a mess," he taunted. Seeing how flimsy your legs had gotten, he quickly threw the leg he was holding over his shoulder, getting even closer to you. His name left your lips in a whine, your body torn between pleasure and worry. "Well here, I'm giving you what you want." He punctuated his words by curling his fingers again, making you moan. "You wanna cum? I'll make you cum...over and over again, so you never forget how good I make you feel." And with that, he finally pulled his fingers out before slamming them back into you, setting a hard pace.

Your mind was left blank, so consumed with pleasure that you couldn't even think about staying quiet. Whimpers and moans shamelessly tumbled out of you as he filled you up so delightfully. Jungkook wasn't unaffected either. Feeling how warm and wet you were was driving him up the wall, numbing his own thoughts.

"So wet for me, fuck. My cock would slide right into you with how drenched you are," he thought out loud. He felt you tighten around his fingers, making him snarl and pick up his pace. "Filthy fucking cockslut. I can't wait to feel you tighten around me like that when I'm fucking all this brattiness out of you," he growled, voice low. You could only moan in response.

"Jungkook, s-slow down, please," you begged, knowing that you wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. Before you knew it, his free hand came down on your pussy, leaving a delicious sting spreading through you. A half yelp-half moan sound came out of you, making Jungkook scoff.

"You're gonna take what I give you, like a good little slut," he grunted. "What do you have to say now Y/n?" he asked, annoyance lacing his voice. "You're so convinced I'm fucking every woman and leaving them unsatisfied. Do you feel satisfied yet?" With his fingers pumping you, grazing your g-spot with every thrust, it was nearly impossible for you to form a coherent thought. When you didn't answer, he gave your pussy another smack, making you hiss.

"Answer me," he demanded, "How do you feel now Y/n?"

"F-feel good," is all you could come up with. Jungkook chuckled at your fucked out state.

"Who's making you feel good sweetheart?"

"You," you moaned, feeling yourself reach your climax again. "Oh my god. Jungkook, please...don't stop. Feels so good, I'm gonna-"

Jungkook's ego inflated as you finally found your words again, saying exactly what he wanted to hear. Hearing you beg for him almost made up for all the shit you'd put him through that day. Almost. You were creaming on his fingers before you could even finish your sentence, moaning his name way louder than you should.

"Now you're finally being a good girl," he praised, continuing to pump his fingers through your orgasm. "Fuck, you're getting so tight. Keep cumming on my fingers like that, yeah?" he groaned, imagining how good you would feel on his cock. Your orgasm was so powerful, you were cumming for what felt like an eternity. Jungkook didn't mind; continuing to work you through it. When it was finally over, your legs gave out. Jungkook quickly caught you as you collapsed, and he placed you down on his discarded jacket on the floor. You closed your eyes and waited for your heart rate to go back to normal. When you opened your eyes after a few moments, Jungkook was still kneeling in front of you. His gaze was trained on your still exposed cunt and he had slipped his soaked fingers into his mouth, tasting you all over again. You worried for second that he still wasn't done with you. He slowly dragged his glazed over eyes to meet your. You gulped at the voracious look on his face, your legs instinctively closing.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was battling with his own insatiable thoughts. He knew he couldn't forget about this, about you, about your pussy after this. As infuriating and insufferable you were, he couldn't deny how good you tasted and felt. And he sure as hell couldn't deny how hard you'd gotten him either. With his hormones surging through him, all he could think about was being inside you, in any way. He saw the look on your face and nearly scoffed. You fucked up his reputation and humiliated him all because you wanted to cum, and now you couldn't take it. He took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts away so he could be rational.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna make you cum again," he said. You scoffed, easing up a little with his reassurance. "You got what you wanted, right? Now maybe you'll keep your mouth shut." The high of your pleasure was wearing off and the weight of his words were hitting you. Did he really just think you were desperate for him? Had he forgotten how he was shamelessly flirting with that other girl right after leaving you in that bathroom? Reality finally caught up with you, and you realized how vulnerable you'd made yourself to him. If someone came in right now, the only person who'd be humiliated was you. Clearly, all of this was just a game to him; a way to shut you up. Jungkook was toying with you and you were letting him. A similar shame and hurt creeped across your skin as the night he'd left you in the bar bathroom. Part of you had started to feel bad about what you'd done earlier, but if Jungkook really was just using you, then you were still nowhere near even.

Without saying a word, you stood up, pulling your skirt back down. In the process, you remembered that he'd taken your underwear. But you'd have to talk to him to ask for them back, and the last thing you wanted to do was talk to him. You'd just have to clean up later and make it through the day without them. You straightened your clothes, trying to make them look as less wrinkly as possible, avoiding Jungkook's piercing gaze. When you finally felt like you looked presentable, that's when you looked at him. This time it was him that was left a mess. His hair was ruined by all the grabbing and pulling you'd done, and his collar was soaked with your juices. You looked at his jacket that you were not standing on, and sure enough, you'd left a wet spot and now heel marks on it too. It made you feel a little better, knowing that this time he'd have to fix himself up instead of you. You picked up his jacket with the toe of your shoe before kicking it over to him. You shot him a cold look.

"You're an asshole," you stated before walking out the door. Jungkook was left on the floor, even more frustrated. He'd felt more gratified after putting you in your place, but then what was that? You'd obviously enjoyed yourself, so what was the problem now? He groaned loudly. Despite his anger, the bulge in his pants was now aching. Everything about you was infuriating to him, so how did you have this much of an affect on him? His mind wandered back to how you felt in his hands and on his tongue. He growled as he palmed his crotch, slowly taking out his hard cock. He stroked himself harshly with the frustration you'd left him with. He quickly pulled out your panties from his pocket, unable to stop himself. His head rolled back and your name spilled past his lips along with low groans as he brought up the thin fabric to his face.

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Tag List: @myjungkookthighs @bemuas @junecat18 @exortedgoods @jahnaviii @jk97bam @itsmekylabear @blueberriesm @marvelbun @vantelover1306 @runariya @btstrology @diame93 @curse-of-art @minyoongi7016

[nahoney22]

Congratulations on the followers! Please can I request some angsty fluff with Fox and a female reader with this prompt - 24: “Who hurt you?”

Maybe reader got attacked and he found her and tends to her wounds which leads to some feelings being shared? Thanks if you do 😊 I love your work

Medical Feelings

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

word count: 1.8k

prompts:

• “Who hurt you?”

Plot: After a risky mission that left you injured, Commander Fox helps nurse you back to health.

Warnings: Safe for work, hurt whump, idiots in love, Reader scared of droids momentarily, needle mention, slightly injured reader, minor blood mention.

Authors note: Sorry for the wait 🩵

“How are you holding up?”

You blink, trying to focus as the voice cuts through the haze in your head. But your vision blurs and swims, the light above stabbing behind your eyes like a viroblade.

“Like someone who’s been hit in the head,” you groan, wincing as you sit up on the medbay cot. The room tilts for a moment and you feel like you may be sick but luckily it settles, and your eyes finally set on the figure perched nearby. Thire.

The mission hadn’t gone as planned. What should have been a straightforward retrieval of intel left you caught in the crossfire. You weren’t a soldier so when the fighting started, you’d been forced to rely on pure luck and very minimal training. Clearly, neither had been enough.

Your memory of the incident was weak as all you could recall was a sharp pain to your head followed by the sight of clankers looming over you before everything went dark.

“You took quite a hit,” Thire says, his voice lighter than the situation warrants as he pulls up a stool to sit beside you.

“I noticed,” you mutter, rubbing gingerly at your temple that felt sticky and as you pull your hand back, a splodge of blood painted your fingertips. A dull ache radiates from where the blow landed, and your entire body feels stiff and battered.

Recovery is going to take a while.

“You know the Commander’s going to want to see you.”

The comment makes you freeze for a beat before you force a painful shrug, hoping to look unaffected. “He’s busy. I doubt he even noticed.”

Thire snickers. “Not too busy for his favourite girl.”

You roll your eyes, already regretting letting him sit down. “Oh don’t start with all that.”

But Thire doesn’t let up, grinning like a loth-cat who’s cornered its prey. “Come on. You’ve seen the way he looks at you. If Fox stares any harder, his visor’s going to fog up.”

“Shut up, Thire,” you grumble, though a reluctant chuckle escapes before you can stop it. The movement makes your ribs ache, and you hiss softly in pain. “And no, I haven’t seen the way he looks at me. It's you lot putting that notion in my head.”

Instantly, Thire’s grin fades, replaced by concern as he notices your pain. “Should I call a med droid?”

“No!” you blurt, a little too quickly. Thire raises a brow, clearly catching on.

“Not a fan of droids, huh?”

You cross your arms, or at least try to; the motion is stiff and awkward. “I’m fine. Really. I don’t need—”

“Who hurt you?”

The sudden voice freezes you mid-sentence. Both you and Thire turn toward the door at the same time, and your heart stops.

Commander Fox. The visor of his helmet glints under the overhead lights as he strides toward you, exuding that no-nonsense authority he’s known for.

Thire shoots you a smug, told-you-so glance before rising to his feet. “This one took a blow to the head, sir. She has a possible concussion.”

Fox’s attention shifts to the datapad in Thire’s hand. “Why wasn’t this reported to me immediately?”

“I figured you had more pressing matters,” Thire replies smoothly, clearly unfazed by the irritation in Fox’s tone.

Fox huffs, the sound sharp and metallic through his helmet’s vocoder. His gaze snaps back to the datapad, scanning the details. “And why hasn’t a med droid been dispatched?”

You groan, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “I’m right here, you know. Maybe someone could ask me what I want instead of talking like I’m invisible.”

Both men turn toward you at the same time. Thire’s expression is sheepish, though it doesn’t quite mask the amusement in his eyes. Fox, however, is unreadable as always, his emotions hidden behind the stoic facade of his helmet.

Thire clears his throat, stepping back. “I’ll, uh, leave you with the Commander.” He’s gone before you can protest, disappearing through the door with a suspiciously quick pace.

The silence that follows is thick enough to cut with a vibroblade. Fox stands rigidly near the cot, his arms folded across his chest. You can hear the faint tap of his boot against the durasteel floor as he shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug, regretting it immediately when the movement sends another sharp ache down your spine. “I’ve been better.”

His head tilts slightly, a gesture that might be concern. “You should’ve reported your injuries sooner.”

“You think I wanted to end up in here?” you counter, the bite in your voice softened by exhaustion.

Fox doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he steps closer, his broad frame almost casting a shadow over you. For a moment, you think he might argue. But his next words surprise you.

“You’re lucky,” he says almost quietly. “It could’ve been worse.”

There’s something in his tone—a rare softness that catches you off guard, even if it is for a moment. You both seem to snap out of whatever the hold that ensnared you both and you close your eyes, leaning back with a soft agreement of his words.

Fox pauses for a moment, then steps away. You crack one eye open, expecting him to be halfway out the door, but to your surprise, he returns moments later with a medical droid trailing behind.

You suddenly sit up straighter, tension rippling through you as the AZI droid glides closer, a stim injector held in one of its arms.

“I’m fine. I don’t need a droid to see me,” you declare quickly, glancing between the droid and Fox with what you hope is a convincing look of confidence. But Fox is already standing there, arms crossed, and his helmet tilts slightly in a way that screams ‘you’re not fine’.

“The patient requires an injection to reduce inflammation and prevent complications,” the droid announces, already grating on your nerves.

Your heart skips as the droid raises the injector, the gleam of the stim making your stomach twist. You instinctively lean back, trying to put more space between you and the advancing machine.

“No. I don’t want it,” you snap, panic slipping into your voice despite your best efforts.

Fox’s gaze shifts to you, then to the droid. He holds up a hand, “Stop.”

The droid halts mid-motion. “Commander, the patient requires—”

“I’ll handle it,” Fox says firmly.

Before you can process what’s happening, he steps forward and plucks the stim from the droid’s arm.

“What are you doing?” you ask apprehensively.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead inspecting the stim injector with almost practiced ease. “You need this,” he says finally, his tone calm but resolute under the modulator. “If you don’t want the droid to do it, I will.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you as he pulls a stool closer and sits beside the cot. He’s quiet, efficient, and unbothered by your flustered state as he rolls up the sleeve of your tunic. His gloved fingers brush against your skin, sending a jolt through you that has nothing to do with the injection.

“This will only take a second,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost soothing. “Just relax.”

You nod stiffly, your pulse racing as he steadies your arm. The sharp pinch of the needle is over in a heartbeat, but the warmth of his proximity lingers far longer.

“There. All done.”

You exhale, tension slowly bleeding out of your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice quieter than you intended.

But Fox doesn’t get up. Instead, his gaze shifts to your temple, where the bruising from the blow to your head.

“Let me take a look at that,” he says, leaving no room for argument.

You look at him, eyes wide. “It’s fine—”

“Sit up,” he interrupts, standing and motioning for you to move to the edge of the cot.

Reluctantly, you scoot forward, your legs dangling over the side as he steps closer.

Much closer.

He stands between your knees, his hands are surprisingly gentle as they cradle your face, tilting it slightly so he can get a better look at your wound.

The proximity makes your breath hitch, your heart pounding so loudly you’re begging he can’t hear it. His touch is careful, his thumbs brushing along your jaw as he examines the cut near your temple.

“This should’ve been cleaned properly,” he mutters under his breath “You clones are always too stubborn for your own good.”

“But i’m not a clone,” you mumble, your voice embarrassingly shaky even though his comment amused you.

“No,” he replies, glancing down at you for a moment. “But you’re just as stubborn.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words die in your throat when he dips his head slightly, focusing on your injury with laser precision behind his visor. His presence is overwhelming, the sharp, clean scent of his armour mixing with something distinctly him.

“This might sting,” he warns, holding up a sterilising wipe.

You barely register the faint sting as he cleans the wound, too distracted by the way his hands move so deliberately, so gently. His thumbs brush against your skin again, steadying your head as he works, and you find yourself leaning into his touch without meaning to.

“There,” he says after a moment, stepping back just enough to toss the used wipe onto the nearby tray. His hands linger on your jaw for a second longer before he finally lets go. “That should help.”

You glance up at him, your cheeks warm, and manage a small, “Thanks.”

He straightens, his imposing frame still far too close. “You need rest,” he says firmly, though his voice is softer than before. “No arguments.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Got it. Rest. Sure.”

For a moment, neither of you move, the charged silence stretching between you.

For a moment, you don’t think about your actions. Perhaps it was the blow to your head that made you act in a certain way. As he was about to turn and leave, you reach out and grasp his wrist.

He looks back, his helmet adorably titling to the side as you gesture him to come back by pulling his arm. And he does.

“Thank you, Commander. You’ve… you have always been kind to me.”

Then, you lean up and rest your forehead to his, eyes closed. His visor made it a little difficult but you heard his shallow gasp pop through his modulator.

But, he doesn’t move back. He lets it happen and only moves when you finally break away, a soft and nervous smile on your lips.

“Thank you.”

“G-Get some rest.” Then, with a curt nod, Fox finally steps back, his presence still lingering long after he’s gone.

And as you lie back on the cot, staring at the ceiling, you can’t decide what’s more distracting: the ache in your head or the memory of his hands on your skin.

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[ar-ghilas-vir-banal]

When I first played DAI, I found Solas callous and cold. He aggravated me with how bull headed he was about his plans and not listening. Still does in that regard. But what upset me so much was how he treated the Inquisitor.

Just. Broke her heart. For nothing. And he was so scant with his affection that you can tell she drank up whatever drops he spilled out for her. Like in Crestwood when he touches her cheek, the woman is so touch starved that she touches her face in shock.

But now I realize what was happening with that enraging man and I can’t hate him for it. It was never meant to be cruel. He adored her. So much that despite knowing he had to follow through, he knew the price of it would be what shreds of goodness he still had. Even in DAV, Rook can accuse him of being just like Elgar’nan and all Solas says is “I know.” He knows what he is.

And that kind of person would only take Lavellan’s love for him and use it to control and eventually destroy her. If she’d been there the night Varric was killed, he’d have killed her in the heat of the moment. If she’d confronted him before he’d been worn down again, beaten down to the ground physically, it wouldn’t have worked. And he’s still trying to go through with it right up until Mythal, with her final key for the chains wrapped around and within that man, finally does something.

Solas didn’t leave her because he grew tired of her or “couldn’t be distracted.” He left because he was terrified of her seeing what he’d become. If she was close enough to see that, she’d be close enough for it to hurt, and she would either come to hate him or she wouldn’t even get that chance. He loved her. He couldn’t just let that happen.

When she snarled “Var lath vir suledin” at him through her pain, his reply was “I wish it could.” It doesn’t mean “our love is too weak for this.” It means “I am becoming something that will destroy what we have and even though ending it is cutting my own heart out, I’d rather this pain than for us to become what the Evanuris did. Remember me as Solas. You will always be my Vhenan.”

I think that’s why Lavellan never stopped loving him. Because she knew he still loved her. Even if it was very confusing. But the beautiful unhinged Lavellan girl you are you’re own flavor of obsessed thing that Solas she sees him again, he reminds her of what he’s done like “I TOLD YOU, DON’T YOU REMEMBER WHAT I DID?!”

To which she snaps back without missing a beat: “I FORGIVE YOU!” and sounds so exasperated, like OF COURSE I DO!!

[qixttine]

König x GN reader!!

My pretty boy.

König, your boyfriend of 2 years, stood by the mirror. The same mirror which was placed infront of the bed you were laying on, the shared bed of your shared apartment.

You noticed that he was staring at himself with a frown, causing you to frown as well. He lifted out a hand to touch his stomach, then his other hand to touch his face filled with scars.

Realising the situation, you stood up from the bed and walked towards him to wrap your hands around his waist.

Luckily, your much larger hands and taller height made it easier to do so.(ik ik ik, König's a 6'10 or smth but let me dream)

You leaned down to kiss the side of his neck, causing a shiver out of the man.

"Liebling, what are you doing?" He asks in a shaky voice, his accent clear as day when he was nervous.

"Showing love to my pretty boy." You replied knowingly, a smile on your face as you continued kissing all over his neck.

Now, normally you'd get a snarky remark from him. But now, he was silent, contemplating your words. After a few moments, he spoke up.

"Pretty? Don't be ridiculous. I look like shit... I gained weight..."

"So? That'll just make our cuddle session even better." You whispered in his ear as you placed a hand on his stomach.

He let out a huff of slight annoyance. He couldn't understand why you were acting like this, were you blind? He had a scarred face and a fat body. You seriously found that attractive?

"My face is scarred, my body-"

"Is beautiful." You cut him off. "Sweetheart, you're beautiful to me, scars and all." You assured with a smile.

A slight blush on the back of his neck could be seen. He felt like crying. Hell, he could already feel the tears build up. God, was he grateful to have you. Forever grateful to have you hold him and whisper how beautiful he was.

You held his hand and led him over to the bed to sit down. Despite not knowing what you were planning to do, he trusted you. He trusted you to love him and care for him. He trusted you with his life.

You sat down next to him and leaned down to press kisses all over his rough skin. He whined in protest as his blush got redder and redder. He would tell you to stop in German, even though he could easily make you stop himself. Yet, he didn't. He let you, despite his half-hearted protest.

You whispered praises into his ear as your hand caressed every inch of his body, earning a soft moan from him.

You told him how beautiful he was and how much you loved him, loves worshipping him. And worshipped him you did. You spent hours kissing and nipping his skin, your eyes filled with awe as you worshipped his beautiful body. He would moan, whine, shiver at every touch and word. He felt like heaven.

While the process, he started to cry. He cried out in pleasure, embarrassment, and love. He loved how you worshipped him, how you praised and kissed him. At the same time, he was embarrassed on how much he enjoyed this. Yet, he felt too much pleasure to even care at this point.

His mind felt foggy, his body twitching, his hands coming up to grip your shirt as if it was grounding him. He couldn't even form words at this point. Instead, he just sobbed into the fabric of your shirt.

He was grateful, oh so grateful for you. He treasured you, loved you with all his heart. In his world filled with darkness, you were his only light.

"Please... Please don't leave me."

Request are open!!!

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

The news came out that the world didn't believe!!! I really loved this chapter, it is my 'xodó' until now.

Please, read it <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Summary: During a camp you discover what your destination is.

Hey! Now i've a Masterlist

Dawn

The campus was abuzz with preparations for the traditional Camping Week, an old town celebration that mixed folklore, outdoor activities, and a touch of emotional torture—especially for the teachers.

You were in the library, trying to convince Yelena to join the camping organization committee, but she seemed more interested in planning ways to avoid sleeping outdoors.

"Camping? Sleeping on the ground? Eating canned food? Please," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "That’s horror movie stuff. And I’m not going to be the first blonde to die, thank you.

"You’re not even a natural blonde," Kate retorted with a grin.

"Which is precisely why I need to protect my artificial hair," Yelena replied, pointing to her locks as if they were a war trophy.

Bucky, flipping through a survival magazine, finally joined the conversation.

"I think it’ll be fun. Campfires, scary stories, fresh air..."

"And bugs, punctured air mattresses, and grumpy teachers," you added, though your excitement was evident.

"Well, maybe the grumpy teachers will make it more fun," Kate said with a mischievous look.

You knew exactly who she was talking about.

Meanwhile, the teachers were gathered in a room discussing the camping details, and the energy there was entirely different.

"Let me get this straight," Agatha began, adjusting the brooch on her outfit. "You want me to spend two nights in a tent, surrounded by noisy students and mosquitoes? Who invented this, and how can I curse them?"

"It’s tradition," Rio responded, always calm and just a little too enthusiastic. "And it’s important for bonding with the students."

"Bonding?" Agatha shot back, crossing her arms. "I prefer chains. More effective."

Bruce, in charge of logistics, raised his hands in surrender. "We’re not going to survive this if we start with negativity. Let’s organize everything properly and..."

"Sleep on the ground. Eat bad food. Have a nervous breakdown," Carol interjected, tossing her bag into the corner of the room.

And then there was Wanda, sitting silently, her expression unreadable. While the others complained, she was already formulating a plan. The camp would be hell for everyone, of course, but it would also be the perfect opportunity to test someone—you.

Somehow, Wanda would make it worth her while.

The arrival at the site was chaotic, as expected. Students stumbled with backpacks, teachers were visibly annoyed, and Yelena was trying to find a cell signal to post her outrage online.

"I can’t believe you talked me into this," she said, looking around in despair.

"Oh, stop complaining. Look how beautiful it is!" Kate said, pointing to the shimmering lake and tall trees.

"Beautiful? I’m sure this is where they filmed the first Friday the 13th. There—bet that’s where Jason killed his first blonde," Yelena said nervously, glancing at the forest.

"What are you talking about? Everyone knows the blonde is the 'final girl'," Kate countered, raising both eyebrows.

"And that the real killer was Jason’s mom, not him. Haven’t you seen Scream?" Bucky muttered, dropping his camping bag wherever.

You laughed, but your eyes involuntarily drifted to Wanda. She looked far too elegant for the setting, as if she’d stepped out of a magazine, even in a simple coat. Her gaze met yours, and a shiver ran through you.

Principal Cowell climbed onto a makeshift wooden platform in the center of the camp, clapping his hands for attention. His white tank top and tiny shorts, revealing his incredibly pale and nearly blinding legs, didn’t match the overly serious tone he attempted to adopt.

"Attention, children, and older children disguised as teachers!" he began, spreading his arms as if about to deliver a divine revelation.

Yelena, standing beside you, let out such a loud sigh that Kate had to stifle a laugh.

"This camp," continued the principal, "is not just about fun. It’s not just about pitching tents or eating marshmallows. This is a rite of passage! An opportunity to reconnect with nature, with the ancestors of this town, and, above all, with yourselves."

"Is he serious?" Yelena asked, leaning closer to you.

"Serious enough to make my breakfast want to come back up," you replied, trying not to laugh.

Cowell either didn’t notice—or completely ignored—the chorus of mocking whispers and bored looks as he went on.

"As the leader of this illustrious institution, it is my duty to ensure that each of you leaves here with more than just mosquito bites and sleepless nights. I want you to leave transformed, enlightened, and…" He hesitated, looking at the surrounding trees. "…with all trash properly picked up, please, no littering!"

"And we thought he was going to recite Shakespeare," Bucky muttered, tossing a rock on the ground with a bored sigh.

"Now," Cowell said, raising a finger as if about to announce something grandiose, "we’ll uphold the traditions established by our founders. Boys and girls in separate areas. Oh, and for our LGBTQIA+ students… I humbly ask that you choose not to hook up tonight. Please."

A stunned silence fell over the camp, followed by a wave of stifled laughter and incredulous looks.

"He didn’t just say that…" Kate said, covering her mouth to keep from laughing.

"Oh, but he did," Yelena replied, laughing openly.

The teachers around were clearly divided. Rio shook his head with an expression of pure exasperation. Agatha raised an eyebrow at Wanda as if to say, Is this guy for real? Carol crossed her arms, clearly debating whether to laugh or intervene.

Wanda, however, seemed oblivious to the situation, her eyes fixed on you in the crowd. When you noticed, she looked away, but there was a glint in her eyes you couldn’t interpret.

"Now, spread out, grab your tents, and start setting up camp!" Cowell concluded enthusiastically, awkwardly jumping off the platform.

"This is going to be the best disaster of my life," you said, shaking your head, already imagining the scenes to come.

[...]

The camp was bustling with activity, students tripping over tent stakes and teachers growing increasingly irritated. You were struggling to make sense of the tent manual, which seemed like it had been translated from another language by an intern.

That’s when you heard a familiar voice.

“Well, look who’s decided to play adventurer today!”

You looked up to see Darcy Lewis, a university senior known for being the most sociable and quick-witted person on campus. She was wearing a wide grin and carrying a hammer to help other students.

“Need some help, freshman?” Darcy asked, tilting her head playfully.

“If I said no, I’d be lying,” you admitted, setting the manual aside. “This manual is worse than an algebra test.”

Darcy laughed and crouched down beside you, picking up the stakes and beginning to organize them efficiently. You chatted as you worked, sharing inside jokes and laughing at the disastrous situations happening around the camp.

The smile you gave Darcy was sincere, warm, and laden with something even you couldn’t quite identify. Ever since you arrived at the university, she had been your guide, showing you everything from the bathrooms to the dorms. And when you found out Darcy would be your roommate, something in your mind sparked—expectations that wouldn’t stop growing.

Darcy always had this relaxed demeanor, like nothing in the world could throw her off balance. As you worked alongside her, you felt the weight of her presence like an anchor amidst the chaos of university life. She was different—not just because she seemed to master everything with irritating ease, but because, somehow, she made you feel comfortable. Seen.

You remembered the first time you met her. She had shown up in the dorm hallway with an easy smile and a box of donuts, saying, "Welcome to hell! I hope you like coffee because no one survives here without it."

From that moment, it was hard not to get attached. Darcy was always the first to offer help, whether it was explaining tough physics concepts or just listening to you vent about endless assignments. She had this way of making any place feel a little brighter, safer.

Now, as she adjusted the tent stakes, your mind wandered to all the little moments you’d shared. Late-night dorm room talks, stifled laughter so as not to wake others, the way she encouraged you without making you feel dependent on her.

But there was more than just admiration there, and you knew it. It was the way your heart raced a little faster when she leaned in too close to explain something, or how you held your breath whenever she casually tossed her hair back, oblivious to the effect it had on you.

As you tightened a loose rope, you glanced at her, trying to disguise the lingering look. Darcy was focused, the tip of her tongue poking out slightly as she worked, her face softened by an expression of calm concentration. She was beautiful—not just in an obvious way, but in a way that came from confidence, intelligence, and the ability to make you feel significant in a crowd.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Darcy suddenly asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Like what?” You tried to sound casual, but you could feel the warmth rising to your face.

“Like… I don’t know, like you just remembered something really good.” Darcy raised an eyebrow, curious but with that playful smile only she had.

You opened your mouth to answer but closed it again, realizing you didn’t have a good excuse. Finally, you shrugged. “Maybe I did. Or maybe I’m just having fun.”

Darcy laughed, shaking her head. “Well, it’s good to see someone is because most people here look like they want to dig a hole and hide until Monday.”

You laughed together, and something about the sound of her laughter made your chest tighten in the best way, as if, for a moment, nothing else mattered.

But that feeling was also terrifying. Because deep down, you knew Darcy would probably never look at you the same way. To her, you were just a funny, slightly clumsy girl who needed help every now and then.

Still, what could you do? Ignore the way she made you feel alive? Pretend you didn’t want more of these moments? It was pointless, and you knew it.

Wanda knew it too.

Wanda watched from a distance, her arms crossed as she pretended to listen to Carol and Agatha discussing the evening’s logistics. Her eyes, however, were fixed on you and Darcy, leaning close together as you set up the tent.

Something burned inside her—a mixture of anger and a discomfort she hated admitting was jealousy. Every smile you gave Darcy seemed brighter than any Wanda had ever received from you. It wasn’t fair. And the worst part was the way Darcy reciprocated, so effortlessly casual and relaxed, as if winning your attention was easy.

“Who the hell is this girl?” Wanda thought, narrowing her eyes.

She tried to shake off the feeling, but the unease grew like a knot in her stomach. What did Darcy have that made you look at her like that? The thought tormented Wanda, and she wasn’t the kind to tolerate uncertainties.

With a cold determination, she closed her eyes for a moment, letting her powers extend. Darcy’s mind was easy to access; she lacked the natural barriers some people built. Wanda slipped in effortlessly, sifting carefully as though flipping through a book.

What she found made her lips curl into a cold smile. Darcy felt nothing but fraternal affection for you—a genuine friendship, without any romantic undertones or desire. It was a relief, but also an insult.

Wanda’s expression remained serene, but her crimson eyes glinted with an intensity that betrayed her calm exterior. Darcy was speaking animatedly with someone, laughing at something, but Wanda saw only how that laugh seemed misplaced. Forced.

“She tries so hard,” Wanda murmured, a faint smile curving her lips. “But it’s not enough, is it? Poor Darcy…”

"You’re nothing special to her, are you?" Wanda murmured to herself, a red glow flickering in her eyes for a brief moment.

For an instant, the Scarlet Witch—her darker, more primal side—nearly took over. "Then she doesn’t need to be here anymore," murmured the voice in her mind. But Wanda took a deep breath and stepped back. It wasn’t necessary. Darcy was insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

Even so, Wanda couldn’t resist the urge to leave her mark. She planted a subtle thought in Darcy’s mind, something that would make her hesitate if she got too close to you. A small shadow of doubt—not enough to harm the girl, but sufficient to keep her distant, allowing Wanda to feel in control once more.

The witch crossed her arms, her fingers drumming lightly as she scrutinized every gesture, every nuance. Darcy was an unfinished canvas, an attempt at grandeur that failed to capture the depth needed to be truly remarkable.

Inside her, a darker part stirred. The Scarlet Witch, primal and possessive, whispered insidiously, urging her to remove any threat to her position. “She’s nothing. An insignificant obstacle. Get rid of her. Y/n wouldn’t even notice.”

Wanda inhaled deeply, steadying herself. No. It wasn’t necessary. Darcy was no real threat, just an inconvenient distraction. Still, Wanda understood the power of doubt and how a tiny fracture could spread until it consumed everything.

She raised her hand, her fingers dancing lightly in the air as if weaving invisible threads. Her lips moved in an almost imperceptible whisper, and a subtle breeze swept past Darcy, like a gentle touch on her consciousness.

"Always the helper, never the helped."

The thought seemed to emerge from nowhere, nesting in Darcy’s mind like an imperceptible seed. She furrowed her brow slightly, as if something had brushed against her awareness, but quickly shook her head, trying to ignore the feeling.

"Little Darcy, a sidekick in her own life, isn’t she? Just... ordinary."

Wanda let the spell do its work—subtle, almost undetectable. It wasn’t enough to destroy Darcy, but it was enough to plant that shadow. A thought that would surface on the loneliest nights, when she looked in the mirror and wondered who she could have been.

Satisfied, Wanda stepped back, a slight smile of triumph on her lips. It wasn’t just power that defined her—it was control. And as she watched Darcy cast a distracted glance of insecurity at her reflection, Wanda knew she was in command once again.

When Wanda opened her eyes, she was calmer, but anger still simmered beneath the surface. She couldn’t bear the thought of you dedicating any part of yourself to someone else, even if it was just friendship.

As Darcy stood and laughed loudly at something you said, Wanda clenched her fists at her sides. The red of her powers glimmered briefly in her palms before fading away.

"This is only the beginning," Wanda thought. She couldn’t allow anything—or anyone—to come between the two of you.

Wanda turned toward the lake, her eyes fixed on the horizon as she wrestled with the conflicting feelings inside her. The sorceress within her constantly whispered, urging for more control, more dominance, but Wanda wasn’t ready to fully give in—not yet.

For now, Darcy was safe. But Wanda knew that if she had to, she wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever was necessary to ensure you stayed exactly where she wanted.

The campfire crackled, sparks shooting up into the star-speckled dark sky. The sweet aroma of toasted marshmallows mingled with the fresh night air. Students were scattered around, sitting on makeshift logs or blankets. Laughter echoed as everyone settled in for an evening of stories and fun.

Rio, with her contagious smile and an out-of-tune guitar, was leading the group in a singalong, struggling to keep up with the chaotic voices of the students.

“Come on, guys! Louder! You sound like zombies!” she exclaimed, laughing as she strummed simple chords.

“Louder and more off-key…” Agatha grumbled from the other side of the fire, rolling her eyes dramatically. She sat with a cup of coffee—seemingly conjured from nowhere—wearing an expression of pure boredom.

“You’re killing the vibe, Agatha,” Rio teased, strumming a chord for comedic effect. “Be happy for once in your life!”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, replying in her trademark sarcastic tone, “Oh, sorry. My happiness is stuck in the same place as your ability to play the guitar.”

The fire exploded with laughter.

“That’s so mean!” you laughed, pointing at Agatha. “I think you just lost your chance to be the night’s favorite.”

“As if I care about being the favorite,” Agatha retorted, though a small smile played on her lips.

Meanwhile, Yelena and Kate were trying to balance marshmallows on improvised sticks, with Kate complaining that hers was burning.

“That’s how it tastes best!” Yelena argued, biting into a marshmallow charred black with enthusiasm.

“That’s pure ash!” Kate said, horrified.

“Gourmet ash.”

Across the fire, Wanda sat with a rigid posture, watching the scene with a mixture of fascination and discomfort. The firelight danced in her eyes, making the green orbs almost ethereal. You noticed that, even amidst the chaos, her gaze always seemed to find you.

“Time for ghost stories!” one of the students shouted, excited.

Rio clapped her hands. “Great idea! Who’s starting?”

A skinny student raised his hand with a mischievous grin. “I have a story about Professor Harkness. They say she’s been spotted wandering around at midnight, talking to cats and—”

Agatha raised her hand, cutting him off with a sweet but threatening smile. “Finish that sentence, and I promise you’ll have the lowest grade of your life.”

More laughter erupted as the student gave an exaggerated bow.

Bruce, sitting a bit farther away and cleaning his glasses, finally chimed in: “Why not a science story? Something truly terrifying?”

“Terrifying? Like your physics lectures?” Yelena quipped, earning another round of laughter from the group.

As everyone laughed and shared stories, you noticed Wanda had a faint smile on her lips—something rare and precious. When Rio began strumming another lighthearted tune, you saw Wanda relax slightly, though she still seemed distant.

“Hey, Wanda,” Agatha called, her tone teasing. “Aren’t you going to tell a story? Something about witches and sorcery, perhaps?”

Wanda narrowed her eyes at Agatha, but there was something playful in her gaze. “I think I can do that,” she replied, to everyone’s surprise.

Wanda crossed her legs gracefully, the firelight casting dramatic shadows on her face. Her voice was soft but carried a weight that held everyone’s attention. She gave you a long, deliberate look—somewhere between predatory and curious—before she began.

“Once upon a time… there was a sweet, lonely girl.”

The group fell silent, the sounds of the forest around them fading into the background.

“She lived in a small village, isolated from the world. She was known for her beauty and kindness—a rare combination that made everyone around her admire her. But the girl didn’t want everyone’s attention. Her heart was set on just one person: the crown prince of the kingdom.”

Wanda paused, letting the suspense linger. Her eyes met yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

"The prince was everything she dreamed of—strong, charismatic, and kind… at least in her eyes. One day, the prince hosted a grand ball, and the girl decided she would do anything to win his heart. But there was one problem."

"Let me guess," Kate interrupted. "She didn’t have a dress, and then a fairy godmother shows up?"

"That’s another story," Wanda replied with an enigmatic smile. "In this one, instead of a fairy godmother, a witch appeared."

The silence returned, even heavier this time.

"The witch saw the girl crying by a lake, her tears sparkling like diamonds in the moonlight. She approached—gentle and seductive—promising to help her. ‘I will grant you eternal beauty, irresistible charm, and the chance to win the prince’s heart,’ the witch said."

Wanda leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to an almost-whisper. "The girl, naive and desperate, accepted the pact without question. And that night, she danced with the prince at the ball. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, nor his hands. She felt she had finally achieved her dream. But there was a price."

Agatha scoffed, clearly skeptical. "There always is."

Wanda ignored the jab and continued, "The next morning, the girl woke up in a dark cabin, bound by chains of silver that shimmered like candlelight. The witch was there, smiling. ‘You wanted the prince, and I gave you one night. Now, your strength, your youth, and your beauty belong to me.’"

Rio let out a dramatic sigh. "How tragic! Poor girl."

"But that’s not the scariest part," Wanda said, her eyes locking onto yours again, as if the story were meant only for you. "The girl never stopped dreaming of the prince, even as the witch drained her life little by little. Because the witch’s true power wasn’t just stealing her beauty—it was making her long for something she could never have. And every time the girl wished, the witch grew stronger."

Your heart raced. You knew it was just a story, but the way Wanda told it—the intensity in her gaze—made it feel far too real.

"And what happened to the girl?" someone finally asked, breaking the heavy silence.

Wanda smiled—a cold, victorious smile directed at you. "She’s still there, in the cabin, staring into the mirror and wishing. Because some prisons don’t have walls, only unreachable desires."

The fire crackled, as if emphasizing the story’s end. Wanda leaned back in her seat, her eyes never leaving yours, while an uncomfortable silence hung over the group.

Agatha finally broke the moment. "Well, that was… absolutely depressing. Thanks for that, Wanda."

Rio tried to lighten the mood by playing a cheerful melody on her guitar, but you still felt the weight of Wanda’s gaze. She seemed to be daring you to react, to retreat, or to do something she could manipulate.

But you didn’t step back. And, for a brief moment, you were certain you saw the corner of Wanda’s mouth lift into an almost imperceptible smile.

The forest was cloaked in an almost absolute silence, broken only by the sound of your quick steps crushing dried leaves. Wanda’s story still lingered in your mind, like a persistent echo, and you felt like you needed air, space—anything to escape the weight of that intense gaze.

You walked away from the campfire, wandering aimlessly, the faint starlight barely illuminating the path between the tall trees. The air was cold and heavy with moisture, but it was better than being under Wanda’s watchful eyes.

“Hiding, darling?” Her voice came from behind you, low and almost seductive.

You spun around quickly, your heart racing. Wanda was there, just a few meters away, arms crossed, her hair gleaming under the moonlight. How she always managed to look so flawless, even in the middle of the forest, was a mystery you couldn’t comprehend.

“I… I just needed some air,” you finally replied. “And what was that story?” you asked, trying to sound firm, but the tension in your voice was obvious.

Her smile was slow, predatory. “It’s what’s going to happen to you,” she said, stepping forward, her eyes locked on yours. “Or do you think I haven’t noticed your ridiculous crush on that insignificant girl?”

Your stomach twisted, and you instinctively stepped back. “What? What are you talking about? Darcy is just my friend!”

“Oh, please.” Wanda laughed, but there was no humor in her voice. “I don’t need to read your mind to see how you look at her. That silly smile, the fleeting glances—it’s pathetic.”

You felt your face heat with embarrassment and anger. “You can’t talk to me like that! What do you even know about me?”

“More than you’d like me to,” she murmured, her eyes glowing with a faint red light.

The tension between you grew with every passing second, like a taut string about to snap. Wanda stepped closer again, and this time, you didn’t back away.

“Why do you care?” you demanded, your voice defiant. “Why are you so obsessed with who I like or don’t like?”

Wanda’s smile vanished, and something darker overtook her expression. “Because you’re mine,” she said simply, as if it were an undeniable truth.

Before you could respond, the air around Wanda began to shimmer with red energy. Her eyes turned fully scarlet, and tendrils of pure magic emerged from her back, writhing in the air like hungry serpents.

“Let’s see how far you can go.”

She rose into the sky with a swift motion, her silhouette stark against the darkness of the forest, like a vengeful goddess. There was no choice. Instinct took over, and you started running, your feet stumbling over uneven ground as branches closed in around you like living traps.

“You can run,” Wanda mocked, her voice seeming to come from every direction, “but you can’t escape.”

The magical tendrils lashed around you, toppling trees and ripping chunks from the ground. You leaped over fallen trunks and pushed through thorny bushes, your heart pounding with growing terror.

Suddenly, one of the tendrils struck beside you, tearing a chunk of earth and causing you to stumble. You fell, rolling through the dirt, and when you looked up, Wanda was there, hovering above you like a goddess of destruction, her face illuminated by a scarlet glow.

“Get up,” she ordered, her voice low and laced with authority. “Prove that you’re not as weak as you seem.”

Your body trembled, but something within you refused to give up. Slowly, you rose to your feet, your eyes locked on hers. For the first time, you realized that beneath all her fury and power, there was something else—a desperate need for control, for you.

And you decided it wouldn’t be so easy to give in.

The ground beneath your feet seemed to pulse, as if the forest were alive, reacting to Wanda’s oppressive presence. You ran, the sound of your own breathing drowned out by the eerie whispers of the trees around you. The shadows stretched, invisible hands trying to grab you as you dodged twisted branches that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Do you really think you can escape me?” Wanda’s voice echoed through the forest, almost soft but full of menace. “You belong to me. And I don’t lose what’s mine.”

You tripped over a root that seemed to move deliberately to trip you, falling to your knees. Panic rose, but so did a spark of defiance. Looking back, you saw Wanda floating above the ground, the red tendrils glowing like whips of pure energy. Her eyes were entirely scarlet, her expression a mix of rage and… something you couldn’t identify.

“Is that what you call a fight?” Wanda taunted, her voice sharp as a blade.

“That’s cheating!” you shouted, trying to buy time as you got to your feet.

Wanda laughed, a low and dangerous sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Darling, what made you think this would ever be fair?”

With a wave of her hand, the trees around you came alive. Grotesque faces appeared on the trunks, mouths open in silent screams, as branches extended like arms, trying to grab you.

You ran again, dodging a branch that almost caught your ankle. “You’re insane!” you shouted, but your voice trembled more from adrenaline than fear.

“Insane?” Wanda repeated, her voice seeming to come from everywhere. “Perhaps. But at least I’m honest about what I want. You, on the other hand, keep pretending you don’t feel anything. That you don’t feel me. That you don’t dream about this every day too.”

Her words hit you like invisible blows, each sharper than the last. Your heart raced, your lungs burned as you kept running, but those sentences echoed within you, cutting deep.

The dreams. She knew about them? About the images that haunted you—of the two of you as a family, laughing together, complete. A future you’d never dare to admit you wanted.

The confusion was overwhelming because, despite everything, there was something about Wanda that was impossible to ignore. An irresistible force pulling you in, like gravity, even as she hunted you like prey.

Your mind screamed to resist, but her magnetism was undeniable—engulfing, dangerous. And in that moment, you wondered if running was truly an option or merely a futile attempt to escape something that had always been destined to happen.

“I am not yours!” you shouted, more to yourself than to her.

“Oh, but you are,” Wanda replied, her voice now closer. “And you know it. I can feel it in the way you try to resist. It’s adorable, but futile.”

You stumbled down a slope, sliding clumsily as the uneven ground struck sparks of pain through your body with each impact. When you finally stopped at the base of a grotesque tree, its twisted branches like arms ready to grasp, you tried to stand—but it was already too late.

Wanda was there. Hovering over you like a vision of absolute power, her feet floating inches above the ground as the force of her magic made the surrounding trees shudder and groan.

“Tired already, darling?” she taunted, her voice silky yet laced with an implicit threat. Slowly, her feet touched the ground, every movement deliberate and purposeful. “I could do this all night.”

You gasped, your body trembling but refusing to yield. Your eyes met hers—burning red—and there was something defiant in your own gaze. “Why are you doing this? Why me?”

For a fleeting moment, something shifted in Wanda’s face. The dark intensity faltered, and a deeper emotion surfaced—but only for an instant. “Because you challenge me. Because you were made for me. For love… or for death.”

She raised a hand, and immediately the earth around you began to move, as if it were alive. Roots and branches emerged to bind you, wrapping around your arms and legs, pinning you down against your will.

“Now,” Wanda continued, her voice low and carrying a calm menace. “Let’s see if you can admit it before I decide what to do with you.”

The battle was no longer just physical. It was a war of wills, an unbearable tension growing with each passing second. The air around you felt electrified, pulsating as if the very environment awaited the inevitable explosion.

The branches of the grotesque tree seemed to come alive, gripping you with relentless force and lifting you off the ground. You screamed, but the struggle was futile. Like a puppet on invisible strings, you were dragged closer to Wanda, who stood still, motionless, like a statue of pure power.

She didn’t smile, but the look she fixed on you was more devastating than any expression. Her gaze scanned every detail—the scratches on your face, the thin cuts on your arms—absorbing each fragment of your vulnerability.

With deliberate gentleness, Wanda lifted you into the skies with her—only the moon and stars bore witness to the tension between you. Her presence was overwhelming, and every movement seemed charged with absolute control, like a predator savoring the imminent victory. When you finally stopped before her, there was something almost tender in her expression.

“Let me see,” she commanded, her cold fingers brushing against the bruised skin of your face.

You tried to pull away, but the pain was too real, and her touch, as possessive as it was, carried an unexpected hint of care. Before you could react, she tilted her head and pressed her lips to one of the scratches on your face. The pain disappeared instantly, replaced by a warm, inexplicable sensation.

“You—” Your voice faltered, caught between shock and something you didn’t want to name.

Without hesitation, Wanda repeated the gesture on another bruise, then another. Each kiss was a confusing mix of relief and an overwhelming pulse that made your heart race. It was as if she was imprinting something on you, an invisible yet permanent mark.

“Why are you doing this?” you managed to ask, but your voice came out as a whisper.

Wanda paused, her blazing eyes meeting yours as if she could see not just this life, but all the lives you had shared. For an instant, it seemed she was about to confess something that transcended words, something that defied the very fabric of fate. Vulnerability flickered in her features, fleeting as the reflection of a comet, before disappearing under the unyielding firmness of her expression.

“Because you are mine,” she said finally, her voice low but laden with conviction that spanned eras and realities.

As if it were the only truth she knew.

Those words weren’t just a declaration; they were a primordial truth of the universe, a force that tethered the stars to the sky and kept the delicate threads between multiverses connected.

Your mind reeled, unable to grasp the weight of her confession. The relentless chase, the raw violence, the unexpected tenderness—all pieces of a puzzle that formed something greater than any destiny. The way she looked at you, as if every part of you was a long-lost secret, spoke louder than a thousand words ever could.

It wasn’t just possession, nor obsession. It was something as eternal as time, as life, as death. And suddenly, you understood. It wasn’t Wanda who bound you; it was destiny itself.

Dr. Wanda Maximoff, brilliant and dangerous, wasn’t just a woman. She was a force larger than this world, larger than any other. In her presence, you felt a visceral truth: in some inexplicable way, you were part of her. You were her other half, a soul her magic had recognized from time immemorial, as if both of you belonged to a cycle that could never be broken.

As this truth took shape in your mind, your eyes fixed on the dark horizon of the forest, where the night seemed to breathe in unison with the two of you.

“Maybe—” your voice came out soft, hesitant, but laden with silent certainty. “Maybe what the princess wanted all along wasn’t the prince…”

You paused, the silence now filled with the sound of distant crickets and the wind dancing through the trees. But most of all, it was the glow in Wanda’s eyes that stood out—capturing the reflection of the stars and something deeper, more intimate. She didn’t look away; instead, she held your gaze, as though she was waiting—or dreading—the end of your sentence.

You turned to her, and the emotion began to swell. The knot in your throat threatened to choke the words, but you knew you had to say them. Your eyes, glistening, met hers, which shone with the intensity of someone who finally sees a secret unveiled. With an almost imperceptible smile on your lips, you finished, in a whisper that felt sacred:

“…Maybe all along.” Your voice broke, a tear trailing down the corner of your eye. “All the princess ever wanted and needed… was the witch.”

Wanda blinked rapidly, but she couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down her cheeks. The strength she had held so tightly seemed to crumble, and her breath hitched at the sound of your words. The depth of the moment was overwhelming, and the smile that curved her lips was both a confession and a surrender.

Your heart raced, not out of fear, but from sheer energy. It was as if the entire multiverse had stopped to witness this moment. Compelled by a force you didn’t understand but couldn’t deny, you surged forward—your right hand tangling in Wanda’s auburn hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers, while the other found the nape of her neck, warm and pulsating with the life that seemed to radiate directly from her magic.

Your lips crashed into hers in a kiss as fierce as it was inevitable, like two primordial forces colliding at the epicenter of a storm. For a brief moment, Wanda was still, perhaps surprised by the intensity of the gesture, but that lasted only a second. Once she surrendered to the moment, she took control as though it was hers by right.

Her lips moved against yours with a blend of possessiveness and precision, as though every motion had been rehearsed through the ages. You tried to match her rhythm, but Wanda allowed no hesitation. Her hand slid up your back, dragging her fingers firmly, almost as if mapping every inch of you. The other hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer, so close there was no room for air between you.

Your tongue met hers, and the shock of the contact was like an electric explosion. Wanda was not gentle but intense, like a flame burning without seeking permission. Every movement was deep, every action calculated to claim. She tasted you as if memorizing every detail, every flavor. You tried to respond with the same hunger, but she wouldn’t let you lead. She controlled the pace—sometimes slow and deliberate, sometimes voracious and relentless.

Your fingers tightened in her hair, pulling slightly, and it elicited a low sound, almost a growl, from Wanda. She pressed you even closer, your back arching into her. Her heat was nearly suffocating, the vibrant energy radiating from her body enveloping you completely, like a current pulling you into a whirlpool of pure desire.

Your mouths parted briefly, just enough to catch your breath. But before you could recover, Wanda captured your lips again, this time with even greater intensity, as if determined to etch this moment into the present and every timeline.

The magic surrounding her reacted to the kiss as if it had a will of its own. The air vibrated, the trees pulsed, and the sky above Westview lit up with a scarlet glow. It was as if the universe itself reflected the power of what was happening between you—a collision of souls that transcended barriers and realities.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your faces so close your foreheads touched. Wanda's eyes glowed intensely, red as embers, and your own eyes mirrored something between awe and desire.

“God—” Wanda whispered, her voice rough and laden with something indefinable. Her hands still held you firmly, as if afraid you might vanish. “Tell me you feel it too.”

You could only nod, speechless, because all that remained was the certainty that this kiss had changed everything. It wasn’t just a physical act; it was a fusion of two existences destined to collide—a moment where chaos and order became one pulsating entity. And you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you could never escape her—and, secretly, you never wanted to.

You opened your eyes just in time to see the universe react. It was as if every dimension felt the echo of that moment—a wave of pure magic and emotion spreading, connecting lives and stories in a single brilliant point.

Wanda, now with a smile that blended triumph with something dangerously close to tenderness, cupped your face with both hands. Her eyes still burned with chaos magic, but there was something human there too—a soft glow, a trace of vulnerability. “Now,” she whispered, as if speaking to herself. “Now I’m complete. Thanks to you, my soulmate.”

The weight of her words echoed within you like an ancient melody, a song you had always known by heart, even without ever hearing it. And as the multiverse seemed to bow in reverence to this moment, you realized that no matter how confused you were, there was no denying it. You weren’t just two souls. You were a constant, a truth that transcended lives and destinies.

The walk back to the camp was wrapped in a heavy, almost suffocating silence. You trailed a few steps behind Wanda, still feeling the ghostly sensation of the branches that had held you and her touch, which burned more than it healed.

Wanda walked with her head high, but her clenched jaw and tight fists betrayed something beneath her controlled exterior. The silence wasn’t just hers; you didn’t know what to say either. Every possible word felt inadequate in the wake of what had just happened.

When the lights of the camp finally appeared through the trees, it was a bitter relief. The distant sound of other students’ voices and the warm glow of campfires provided a stark contrast to the weight of the walk.

As you both emerged from the last line of trees and approached the center of the camp, one of the students ran toward you, his eyes wide and his face lit with almost childlike excitement.

“Come quick!” he exclaimed, pointing toward the sky. “There’s a meteor shower—red meteors!”

You glanced at Wanda, who froze immediately. She lifted her eyes to the sky, her lips pressed into a thin line. Something in her expression—a mix of worry and something almost… amused—made your stomach churn.

Raising your eyes to the sky, you saw what the student was describing. Bright red streaks crossed the night, like shooting stars, but different. More intense, more alive. There was something supernatural about their beauty, something that didn’t feel like it belonged to the natural world.

“These… aren’t meteors, are they?” you asked in a low tone, meant only for Wanda.

She didn't reply immediately, keeping her gaze fixed on the sky, but the tension in her shoulders was hard to miss. Finally, she tilted her head slightly toward you, her voice a low murmur: "No. They're... remnants. Fragments of my power."

Her answer hit you like a punch. It was obvious, really, but hearing it out loud made it feel far more real. Those streaks in the sky, so beautiful and surreal, were the echoes of something infinitely more dangerous.

“They won’t get hurt, will they?” you asked, the concern slipping out involuntarily.

Wanda finally tore her gaze from the sky to meet yours. There was something almost proud in her eyes, as if she appreciated the question. But her response was firm. “No. It’s only a reflection. They’ll feel nothing but awe.”

The student ran back to the group, shouting excitedly for more people to look at the sky. Animated conversations and laughter began to fill the camp as everyone marveled at the supposed "meteor shower."

You stayed by Wanda’s side, feeling the weight of the secret you now shared. Every red streak in the sky was a reminder of who she was—and what she was capable of.

Finally, Wanda broke the silence between you. “It’s curious,” she said softly, her eyes still on the sky. “They look at this as something magical, enchanting. They have no idea it’s something so... ordinary to me.”

“Ordinary?” you repeated, incredulous. You could hardly believe what you were hearing. It wasn’t just the tone in Wanda’s voice but what it implied—her apparent indifference to the power she wielded like a second skin, something you could only imagine and, even then, fear.

She could have killed you. As if you were nothing. A mere flick of her hand would have been enough to reduce you to eternal silence, to oblivion. But that wasn’t what she did. No, instead, she chose something infinitely more complex. More confusing. More cruel and tender all at once.

She kissed your wounds, not with pity but with reverence. Every scratch on your skin was treated as something worthy of care, something deserving of attention. Where the heat of her power could have left ashes, Wanda chose to leave solace.

You wondered why she did it. Why someone so powerful—so capable of destruction, so distant in her essence—would choose to bow to tenderness for someone so small, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. You were no weapon, no threat, and certainly no equal to her.

Wanda gave a slight smile—almost sad, but with a hint of arrogance. “Yes. Power is... just that. A tool. Beautiful, maybe, but dangerous. Like fire.”

You stared at her for a long moment, trying to grasp the complexity hidden behind those words. But before you could respond, Wanda took a step forward, heading toward the circle of students gathered to admire the sky.

She was an imposing figure but strangely human under that light. For a moment, you wondered how the others saw her. As someone brilliant, respectable... but never as the Wanda you had met in that forest.

As she walked away, you found yourself frozen, unable to decide whether to follow her or keep some distance. Because, somehow, you knew: that night had changed everything.

The night finally quieted after curfew. The lively chatter of the students gave way to the subtle sound of wind rustling through the trees and the occasional crack of branches. You were in your tent, lying down, but sleep didn’t come easily. Your mind was still processing the walk, the hunt, the "meteors."

Eventually, exhaustion won, and sleep came without warning. And with it, once again, the dream.

You were in a vast field bathed in a soft golden light, and a little girl ran ahead of you. Her steps were as light as a deer’s, her melodious laughter filling the space. You tried to catch up, calling out, but your voice seemed muffled, unable to bridge the distance between you.

The girl suddenly stopped, spinning around to face you. Her hair shone in the sunlight, and the face that had been a blurry smudge was now clear. But it was her eyes that froze you in place. A deep, vibrant green, full of life and mystery. The same eyes you had stared into before.

“Do you know who I am?” the girl asked, her tone sweet but laden with something older, wiser.

Before you could answer, the field began to collapse around you, as if the world were dissolving into a vortex of red light and darkness. You tried to scream but woke with a start, your heart pounding wildly, your chest heaving.

The dream left you shaken but resolute. There was no more room for doubt or waiting. You needed to confront Wanda. You needed to understand what was happening.

Moving quickly and still disoriented, you got up and left the tent, your bare feet sinking into the cold earth. But before you could take another step, something caught your attention.

A light.

Red and pulsing, like a beating heart. It hovered in the air not far away, glowing with a supernatural brilliance. It was impossible to tell where it came from, but there was something about it that held you captive, made it impossible to ignore.

You took a hesitant step toward the light, and it pulsed again, as if calling to you. Your chest tightened, but even so, you continued. It was as if an invisible force was pulling you, something stronger than logic or fear.

“Wanda?” you whispered, unsure if you even wanted an answer.

The light didn’t respond but began to move, slowly, as if guiding you.

The camp around you seemed deserted, the tents motionless under the pale moonlight. With each step, the red light drew you deeper into the forest, and though there was something terrifying about the path, there was also a strange familiarity.

You felt compelled to follow. Somehow, you knew this was tied to the girl in the dream. To the green eyes. To Wanda.

And then, the light stopped.

It hovered between two ancient, gnarled trees, like guardians of a portal. Its glow intensified, and you noticed that, beyond the red, there was now a golden hue surrounding it, like an aura.

You hesitated, your heart pounding against your ribs. Every instinct in your body screamed that stepping through that invisible portal would change everything.

But before you could decide, a soft yet unmistakably firm voice echoed around you.

“You really are brave, aren’t you?”

You turned quickly, and there she was. Wanda, emerging from the shadows as if she had been there all along. The look in her eyes was intense, almost disarming.

“Did you come here to understand,” she asked, her arms crossed, her tone devoid of mockery. “Or to run again?”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. "I want to know the truth. About you. About me. About… all of this."

Wanda tilted her head slightly, the corner of her lips curving into a smile that seemed more melancholic than satisfied. "Then come," she said, gesturing to the red glow pulsing between the trees. "I'll show you what you want to know."

The walk to the cabin was silent. Wanda led, and the red light that had guided you before now seemed absorbed into her figure, pulsing from her fingers, as a natural extension of her presence. The forest grew denser, but you hardly noticed the trees or the uneven ground.

Your thoughts were consumed by what she would say, by what you were about to discover.

Finally, you arrived.

The cabin was small, with old wooden walls and a chimney that looked long since extinguished. It was nothing like the teachers' cabins at the camp, which were practical and modern. This one seemed pulled from a dark fairy tale, a relic from another time. There was something comforting yet unsettling about the place.

Wanda opened the door with a flick of her hand, and you stepped inside, hesitating. The interior was simple but cozy. A fireplace occupied the main wall, with some worn armchairs scattered around.

Bookshelves filled the walls, and a small table was covered with candles, crystals, and notebooks.

She closed the door behind you and sighed deeply before turning to face you.

"You deserve answers," Wanda said, her voice low but firm. She gestured to one of the armchairs, indicating that you sit.

You obeyed, trying to appear calmer than you truly felt. Wanda remained standing, pacing the room as if organizing her thoughts.

"My full name is Wanda Maximoff," she began, her eyes fixed on the fireplace as if speaking was easier without facing you. "I am… or was… an Avenger. One of a group of heroes who tried to save the world countless times. Some would call it heroism, but for me, it was always more complicated."

She turned to you, her eyes burning with something between pain and determination.

"Inside me, there is something I can't always control. The Scarlet Witch. An ancient and immense power, linked to chaos magic. It’s not just a power; it’s almost… an entity. She is part of me, but also something beyond. Something dangerous."

You swallowed hard but remained silent, absorbing every word.

"I've lost so much because of this power," Wanda continued. "My brother, Pietro. He died fighting for something greater than the both of us. Then came Vision…" Her voice faltered, and she took a deep breath before continuing.

"Vision was… is… someone I loved deeply. He was a synthezoid, a creation, but had more humanity in him than many of us. He was destroyed, and I… I created a reality to try and bring him back. But it was a mistake. A mistake that hurt people."

She stepped closer, her eyes locked on yours now.

"The boys… Billy and Tommy. My sons." Her voice trembled with emotion. "They were real to me, even though they came from an illusion I created. I loved every moment of that, and losing them… it was like losing a part of myself."

Wanda sat down in the chair opposite yours, her posture tired.

"After that, I went in search of answers. I explored the multiverses. I created different worlds, different versions of myself and everyone I knew. Some were beautiful, others… terrifying. But in all of them, there was one constant: the chaos inside me."

She paused, and you noticed she was studying you.

"And then, there is you," she said, her tone shifting, softening. "You're not like anyone I've ever met. There's something in you that… challenges me, calls to me. As if it was inevitable that our lives would cross."

Your heart sped up, but Wanda continued before you could respond.

"And Seline," she said, the name echoing in the air like something sacred. "The little girl from your dreams. She is real, in a sense that transcends what you know as reality. She is a possibility, a piece of something greater. A connection between us, between what I was, what I am, and what we can be."

You felt your throat dry, but managed to ask, your voice weak: "We… who? Are you saying that…?"

Wanda smiled, but it was a smile full of mystery. "The two of us are connected. I don't know exactly how or why. But I know that Seline is proof that we've lived this many times."

The silence that followed was heavy, yet full of possibilities. You knew there was much more to understand, but you also knew that somehow, you were no longer alone on this journey. Wanda was there, with all her strength, pain, and intensity, and strangely, that gave you courage.

"Now," Wanda said, leaning forward, her eyes glowing intensely. "If you're ready to accept this, we can make it all happen. Together." Her eyes glowed red.

You felt like you didn't know how to breathe. "But… Vision, the boys. You already have a life here. How could I fit in? You're Professor Wanda Maximoff in this universe, married with children." Tears shimmered in your eyes.

Wanda remained silent for a moment, watching the tears glisten in your eyes. She seemed to be battling something, as if every word she was about to say required more than she had to offer.

"Do you think it's easy for me, too?" she finally said, her voice low but filled with an emotion that felt almost overwhelming. "Do you think I don't feel the same? That I don't wonder where you fit, or how I could give up the life I've already built for something I can't even explain yet?"

You tried to hold her gaze, but the intensity in her red eyes was almost unbearable. "Then why insist? Why continue with this if everything is so complicated?"

"Because you're here!" Wanda almost shouted, her control faltering for a moment. The scarlet glow around her pulsed, and the furniture in the cabin shook lightly. "Because even with all of this, even with Vision, with the boys, with the responsibilities, you're here. And every part of me tells me that you've always been."

The silence that followed was filled only with the rapid beat of your heart. You didn't know what to say. You didn't know how to respond to her intensity, but you also couldn't ignore the way her words seemed to awaken something deep within you.

"You speak of Seline as if she's an answer," you said finally, your voice stronger now. "But what about us? And everything this means?"

Wanda took a step closer, the red energy around her softening but still present. "We are the starting point. We always were. Seline is just the reflection of that, the proof that there’s something greater than these lives we’ve lived apart. Something that transcends time, universes."

"But Vision…" you began, but Wanda raised her hand, gently interrupting you.

"Vision knows what I am," she said, and there was an unmistakable sadness in her voice. "He always knew. I created him, but he’s not my destiny. He is kindness, stability. But you… you are chaos, like me. And maybe that’s the right thing."

You took a deep breath, trying to process it all. "So… what do we do now?"

Wanda smiled, but this time it was a softer smile, almost melancholic. "Now, we figure out how to make this work. But I can't promise it will be easy, and I can't promise we’ll come out of this without scars."

You didn’t say anything, just looked out the window—finally sighing as you saw the sun rising horizontally among the trees.

The dawn arrived like a whispered promise, the first touch of light painting the sky in golden and crimson hues. You and Wanda stood side by side, at the threshold of the cabin, watching the silent spectacle. The world seemed to breathe again, and even with the weight of the unknown hanging over you, there was something reassuring in the way the sun broke the darkness, persistent and unwavering.

The cool breeze touched your face, but Wanda's presence at your side was even more tangible. Her fingers brushed yours, a hesitant touch, as if testing the strength of this bond that now seemed impossible to ignore. Wanda turned her face to you, her eyes still carrying the echoes of the vibrant red that always seemed to dance in the depths of her soul.

"This is what we are," she said softly, her voice blending with the gentle sound of the leaves dancing in the wind. "Like the sun and the night. Always in a cycle, always chasing each other. But when we find balance, for a brief moment, we create something beautiful."

You looked at her, the first rays of sunlight illuminating the contours of her face, softening the intensity that so often defined her. "And when there’s no balance? When everything is just chaos?"

Wanda smiled, a small smile, filled with painful wisdom. "Chaos is also a way to create. It destroys, but it also makes room for something new to be born."

Her words weighed on you, as if they carried more than just a simple meaning. Maybe she was talking about the two of you, or perhaps she was referring to something much larger, something you still couldn’t fully comprehend.

The sun was now fully visible, spreading its light across the world like an artist on their canvas. And as you watched that spectacle, you realized that despite all the darkness, there was beauty in the dawn.

Just as there was beauty in standing beside Wanda, even when everything seemed so terribly complicated.

"Do you think we can make it?" you asked, your voice low, but filled with a vulnerability you didn’t try to hide.

"I think we already are," Wanda answered, her gaze firm and filled with a certainty you didn’t know whether to comfort her or yourself.

And so, at the threshold between night and day, between hope and fear, you and Wanda found something that seemed undeniably real. Perhaps it was just a moment, perhaps the beginning of something much larger. But for now, that was enough.

~*~

Wanted: powerful goddess witch to throw me against the wall and impegnate me.

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[powdcr]

you fixed it

୨୧ jinx x soft!reader

୨୧ summary: jinx fixes up your childhood stuffed animal

୨୧ word count: 1.3k

୭ ୨♡୧ ৎ

A few days ago, Jinx and you had been ambushed by a group of enforcers. They had been tracking your whereabouts for months and had finally planned an attack. They came into Jinx’s base with their guns a-blaze, very on brand for them at this point. Knowing that you weren’t exactly the most agile or even much of the fighting type, she dashed down and grabbed you quickly, dashing back out through a side vent. She held you close to her in the vent for a few minutes until the shooting ceased. You felt your heart beating through your chest. Usually, you were the type to stay out of danger. It wasn’t because you didn’t want to be in the action but because Jinx was very protective over you and also because you didn’t have much muscle in general. You were weaker, sensitive, and Jinx knew this well. She vowed to protect you since the day she first met you. 

Jinx met you in the streets of Zaun at a younger age. She was around fourteen and had just been taken in by Silco a couple years prior. She saw a few older boys beating you up in one of the back alleyways. She didn’t know you, but she saw herself in you at that moment and had to save you. You saw a weirdly-assembled tin can? No, it must have been a bomb. It rolled towards you. It had eyes and whiskers drawn on it with purple and blue ink. Smoke came off from the bomb before exploding. The boys screamed and tried to run away, a couple getting caught in the blast. You were far enough away from the blast that you only had a few scratches and dust marks, aside from the bloody nose the group had already left you. A shadow came out from amongst the smoke. It was a girl with mid-length, blue hair. She had a wide-grin on her face and manic, wide eyes.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here, buttercup,” she said softly, her rasp not yet reaching its full potential. She reached her arm out to help you up, which you gladly accepted. She then took you back to Silco and had you cleaned up. You had been by her side ever since. 

Jinx looked down at you as she held you in her arms. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” She asked frantically as she lifted up your arms, checking for wounds.

“I’m okay, baby. I’m okay.” 

“Okay,” she breathed out heavily, holding your face in her hands. “That’s it. I’m gonna show those Piltie goons a lesson, once and for all.” Jinx took a sharp breath before yelling, “They don’t touch you. No one touches you!” 

You grabbed for her hand, stopping her from leaving the vent. “Baby! I’m okay! Please don’t go.”

The melancholy, yearning voice that escaped from the back of your throat made Jinx stop in her tracks. Her eyes widened as she turned around. “Alright… Okay.” Her voice fell quieter as she cuddled back up with you. She then looked down into your lap to see the faint remnants of what was your childhood stuffed animal. “Oh no,” Jinx spoke softly. “Your little cat.”

You looked down into your lap to see it. You were holding it when the enforcers had come in. The head was disheveled and barely hanging on to its body. An eye was torn out and the stitching was pulled open. Stuffing enveloped the metal floor that you two sat on. 

“Shit,” you muttered with an awkward laugh. “I guess little Cosmo didn’t make it out with us.” 

“Is that what its name was? I suppose you never did tell me,” she laughed awkwardly with you. 

“Yeah,” you replied, wiping a tear shed from the recent event. “My [mom/dad/sibling] named him.”

“Right…” Jinx bit her lip, unsure of how to make this situation better. 

The two of you eventually made it out of the vent once the coast was clear. Jinx watched as you had a harder time sleeping at night without your stuffed cat. You tossed and turned each night. She couldn’t stand seeing you like this. She knew how important it was to you.

One day while you were picking up a small shipment for Silco, Jinx decided to pick up the damaged stuffed toy from its new place underneath your bed. She placed it on her workbench and got to work. She tried her best to redo the torn stitches, occasionally placing a patch or two of new material to cover up parts that were otherwise far from repair. It had a new button to replace the missing eye. Now it had two different colored buttons: one blue and one black. Jinx was proud of herself. Cosmo was far from perfect, however, he now resembled Jinx’s own stuffed rabbit and that brought joy to her. The two looked like the perfect pair when she sat them together on your guys’ shared bed. 

You returned home to see Jinx sitting at her desk, pretending to look busy at work. She swung her legs back and forth like a little kid. You threw your leather backpack to the floor and made your way over to her. Your hands were now on her shoulders, giving her a light massage.

“Hi, baby,” you said softly, kissing her neck chastely.

“Mmm,” she cooed, “I have a surprise for youuuu.”

You spun her around to face you. “And what would that be?”

Jinx bounced away from her desk and retrieved the stuffed animal from the bed, hiding it behind her back as she made her way back over to you. You had never seen her look so giddy. It made you happy, really happy. Seeing her looking so cheery and innocent made you think of all the times that she didn’t feel like this. Because when she didn’t feel like this, she could be a wreck: a ball of emotions on the floor, full of nerves. You didn’t like seeing her suffer like that. Today, however, was apparently a good day. You loved when she’d have her good days.

“What’re you hiding?” You said with a laugh, tickling her sides to get her to reveal this very secret gift. 

“Okay, okay!” Jinx called out with a giggle. “Here, I thought you missed him… I wanted to bring him back to you.” She held Cosmo out in front of her with both arms. He was being delicately clasped from underneath his arms like a new doll. You took notice of how gently she held him in comparison to her normal rough personality. 

“You… fixed him?” You asked, voice thick with emotion, grabbing Cosmo and holding him in your arms as tight as possible. 

“Yeah, it was something I could fix,” she replied softly with a smile. 

You jumped forward and hugged her as tight as you did the stuffed animal. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” you mumbled like a mantra.

Jinx played with your hair as you hugged her, unsure of what else to do. She loved being touchy, but hugs specifically seemed to evade her. She never knew where to put her hands or how tight she was supposed to hug someone. Nevertheless, she tried, raising her free hand up to rub your back. “You don’t need to thank me, buttercup,” she replied, shocked at your thankfulness. 

You nuzzled into her neck, still holding on to Cosmo. “Thank you, Jinx.” 

She softened after hearing you say her name. Usually, you used nicknames with each other, but hearing someone call her ‘Jinx’ instead of ‘Powder’ for once made her feel safe and loved by you. You would always be her number one cheerleader, and she knew it, but she never would know quite why you chose her. 

[n0vazsq]

Won them over | Luke Browning x Reader

pairing . . . luke browning x gf!reader

summary . . . When you visit your family gathering with your secret boyfriend, you never expected him to get along so well

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.1k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . my school is starting tomorrow so update schedule might stop a bit </3 i'll still be uploading but less often so yeah! also ignore the shit colour coordination on the moodboard

. . . Luke showing up at your family’s party wasn’t exactly part of the plan. Scratch that, your family didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.

You’d been holding off on telling them, because, well, you’d seen how they interrogated every single person your cousins brought around. And Luke? He was perfect, but he was also a racing driver, which you knew was going to ensue about a million questions.

The party was in full swing when you walked in with Luke trailing behind you. Your mom’s eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw him.

"Who’s this?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron, even though she wasn’t cooking. It was her nervous habit.

"Mom, this is Luke," you said, bracing yourself. "My boyfriend."

As if there was a record scratch, everyone within earshot turned to stare. Your dad’s jaw tightened, and your grandma’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline.

Luke, ever the charmer, extended his hand to your mom. "Mrs. (L/n), it’s really nice to meet you. Thanks for having me."

Your mom blinked, clearly not expecting the manners. "Uh, of course. Nice to meet you too, Luke."

But the interrogating started almost immediately. Your uncle cornered Luke by the drinks table, holding a beer like it was some kind of truth serum.

"So, you’re a race car driver? That’s… interesting," he said, his tone dripping with skepticism. "How’s that work as a career? Seems risky."

Luke smiled, completely unfazed. "It’s definitely not the typical job, but I love it. There’s a lot of strategy involved, and the teamwork is amazing. Plus, it taught me how to improve my focus."

Your uncle nodded slowly, like he wasn’t totally convinced but also couldn’t find a reason to argue.

Meanwhile, your grandma had Luke in her sights. She’d sat herself on the couch like the queen of the castle, and when Luke came over to introduce himself, she gave him the once over.

"A race car driver, huh?" she said, squinting at him. "How fast do you go?"

"Over 200 miles an hour sometimes," Luke replied, and your grandma’s jaw dropped.

"Lord have mercy. Do you have life insurance?"

Luke laughed. "Yes, maam. It’s part of the job."

By the time dinner rolled around, Luke was doing surprisingly well. He’d helped your mom carry a stack of plates, made your younger cousins laugh with a story about his first time driving a go kart, and even managed to get your dad to crack a smile.

But the ultimate test came when your grandpa, a man of few words but strong opinions, called Luke over to sit next to him.

"So, young man," your grandpa began, his voice gruff. "What’s your deal?"

You almost choked on your drink, but Luke didn’t even blink.

"Well, sir, I’m here because I really care about your granddaughter. She’s smart, funny, and honestly the best part of my life. I just want to make her happy."

Your grandpa stared at him for a long moment before nodding. "Good answer," he said gruffly, and that was that. Approval granted.

By the end of the night, your mom was packing up leftovers for Luke to take home, your cousins were begging him to come back for the next party, and your grandma was telling everyone he’d make a 'handsome groom someday'.

But of course, things couldn’t stay entirely smooth. After dinner, you and Luke snuck away to the back porch for a breather. The house was buzzing with your family’s chatter, and you needed a moment to yourselves.

"You’re handling this way better than I thought you would," you said, leaning against the railing.

Luke grinned, leaning in closer. "You doubted me?"

"Not exactly," you teased, "but they’re a lot to deal with."

"They’re great," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "But I do kinda miss having you all to myself."

His voice dropped just enough to make your cheeks flush. Before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you; soft and sweet, the kind of kiss that made everything else fade away.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his hands found their way to your waist, holding you close. "I wasn’t kidding," he murmured. "Having you all to myself is the best part of any day."

You let out a soft laugh, your arms looping around his neck. "You’re ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love with you," he replied, his grin widening. The way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world, made your heart skip a beat.

Before either of you could say more, he pressed another kiss to your lips, this one deeper and slower. The sounds of the party drifted into the background, replaced by the warmth of his touch and the way he made you feel like you were floating.

"You know they’re probably wondering where we are," you said, pulling back just enough to speak, though you didn’t make any effort to let go of him.

"Let them wonder," he said, his voice teasing but his eyes full of something softer. "I’m not done with you yet."

Luke leaned in, hand brushing your cheek, and before he could kiss you for the third time, you heard a voice interrupt you.

"Ewww!" the voice rang out, snapping you both back to reality. You turned to see your little cousins standing by the doorway, their faces a mix of shock and disgust.

"We’re telling!" one of them shouted, already turning to run back inside.

"Wait, wait!" Luke said, holding up his hands. "What if I make a deal with you?"

The kids paused, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

"How about… another game of football after dinner?" Luke offered, and their eyes lit up.

"Really?"

"Really," he promised. "But only if you keep this little moment a secret between us."

The kids huddled together, whispering furiously, before turning back with matching grins. "Deal!"

As they ran off, you turned to Luke, half amused, half exasperated. "Bribing kids now?"

He shrugged, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Whatever it takes to keep your family from eating me alive."

"You’re ridiculous," you said, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

When you both finally went back inside, it was like nothing had happened.

Your cousins were busy showing off their 'secret' knowledge to each other, your mom was arguing with your dad about which dessert to serve next, and your grandma was already asking Luke if he’d like to take home some leftovers.

"Well, that went better than expected," you said on the drive home, leaning your head on Luke’s shoulder.

He grinned, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh. "Told you I’d win them over."

And honestly? You weren’t even surprised. Luke could charm just about anyone, even your family.

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[rosewoodcafe]

You're Losing Me

I can't focus so here is this little one-shot story.

After years of being with Sebastian, he has only descended further into the Dark Arts, driving away Ominis and Anne, leaving only you. It's becoming too much to handle as he is still desperately searching for a cure.

Sebastian x Reader

[This is based off of You're Losing Me by Taylor Swift]

[I plan to do more stories like this because it was incredibly fun]

I sat in our home in Feldcroft. He had been gone for hours, saying he was at work but I knew better than that. I knew he wasn't cheating, Sebastian was a better man then that, but it still felt incredibly empty without him here.

My body was hollow, a feeling I had started to get used too, which frightened me tremendously. I blew out the candle that lit our dining room table, taking the two untouched plates of food to the kitchen sink. Everything felt empty, my motions, my thoughts, everything I did, I was so alone in this world.

The door to our cottage opened as I was walking to our bedroom, his silent approach being the only thing to halt me. Without a word he planted a small kiss on the top of my head, walking to the other room where his office was and shutting the door behind him.

I washed up, cleaning my body in the warm water. Eventually making my way to our bed, the one we used to be curled together in every night, laughing like little kids. I curled up the same way I used too, holding onto the shreds of happiness in this hopeless home.

Ominis warned me of this, that his obsession of the dark arts would overtake everything else he cares about. He warned that the murder of his uncle would only be the beginning, that sending him away would be the only option. I refused, telling him that Sebastian was a good man, that he could change. Ominis, for Anne, and my sake, didn't turn Sebastian in. Sebastian was grateful, but Ominis was right, the obsession didn't stop.

I felt the tears roll down my face as I pressed it into the pillow. The weight dropped on the other side of the bed, not even a touch to signal he was there, but I knew it was Sebastian.

The morning came and with it the usual hollow feeling. I pulled myself from bed, heading to the kitchen.

"I love you." Sebastian said sleepily. His hair was a wreck, but he looked happy upon seeing me too.

"I love you too." I said back, barely above a whisper.

He didn't say anything else, just looking at me happily. The sun shined through the window, casting a glow across his bare upper half, he was beyond handsome.

I walked out into the kitchen, making myself some tea.

I wished I had someone, anyone, who understood what I was going through. To understand who Sebastian has become. The only ones who would have long since contacted me, opting to keep out of his way.

I remember how he was when I met him, how full of life he was. How excited I was. Everything felt perfect, he was happy, we were finding a cure. It was some fantastical dream, but instead of staying bright and beautiful, its changed, becoming dull and gray from wear.

Out the window I saw our neighbors, recently engaged, gardening under the sun. Sebastian had told me we would get married, with a wonderful wedding that I would love. He promised that before we were twenty he would as me. We were nearing twenty four, and I can't understand why. The cure was his excuse at first, that Anne needed help, but Anne has long since died. Anne has been dead for years, leaving Ominis to grieve alone as Sebastian refuses to accept her death. I felt as if I am a ghost, haunting his home until he gets rid of me.

His arms wrapped around me. Sebastian's face in the crook of my neck.

"You look lovely dear." He whispered.

"Thank you." I replied blankly.

Sebastian went about the kitchen, preparing himself food as I stood there unmoved.

"I will be out at work for awhile." He eventually said.

"Ok." Is all I could muster.

"Don't wait up, I probably won't be home for awhile."

"Okay."

When he left I felt nothing. I paced our home, recounting the memories we made here early after we left Hogwarts. The happiness that lifted this home has long since gone, but it filled my mind daily.

I laid in our bed, letting myself weep for myself, all the moments and memories. I needed to do something, I needed to get out. He tried so hard before to keep me, and he had, for years I stayed by his side. But I couldn't help but think that he was losing me from the moment he cast the torture curse on me. The pain from that was miniscule compared to the years of heartbreak I had experienced. I am getting tired, tired of always bringing myself to my feet, tired of trying to feel okay when I feel like dying.

I needed top get out.

Parchment was in the desk of his study, along with quills. I would write to Ominis, tell him that he was right, that Sebastian had gone too deep, that he had gone to a place I could not follow anymore. I barged into his office, tears flooding my eyes as I scrawled the letter. 

Dear Ominis,

I write to you not as a way to update you on Sebastian, but to let you know that it has ended. I have given up hope for him. For years I have been trying, trying to get him to move forward, to stop indulging in the dark arts. But you were right, he has only gone deeper into madness. I don't know what to do, I am lost and broken beyond repair. 

I hope when this letter finds you that you prepared for the wickedness Sebastian may unleash. He may accuse you of manipulating me, by telling me to leave, know that you did not, and that this decision was one I made entirely on my own. I hope to forgive Sebastian one day, to have a love with him that I wished so badly for, but for now I must leave. I will surely die by my own hand if I stay.

In a few hours I will arrive at your home, where I hope you will not turn me away. I have lost everything, and will only need a moment to get my bearings together before being out on my own. You are the only other one to understand my predicament Ominis.

Your dove

I folded the parchment and walked over to the owl, tying the parchment on and opening the window, sending the owl out. It would be an hour until the note has arrived at Ominis's home, and a few hours after that before Sebastian came home. I ran back to our room preparing myself to leave.

Washing up and putting on traveling clothes was the easiest part, packing the things that meant most to me was harder. Memories of Sebastian and I's past flooded my thoughts, endless streams of tears leaving my eyes. I couldn't handle this, handle how I let it get this bad, why didn't I leave when it started to go downhill?

Why did I hold so much hope for him to change?

I couldn't answer.

My heart felt dead and cold. Every crevice of my body devoid of color, a void of nothing behind the masquerade of a person. 

I sat at our kitchen table. One last time.

He opened the door some hours later. Sebastian didn't notice my trunk, and he barely noticed me at all.

"You're up still?" He asked, a bit of shock seeping into his blank tone.

"I am."

"Why?"

I took a breath. 

This would probably be the last time I see him. 

He would hate me.

"I'm leaving." I said standing up and walking to my trunk.

"What do you mean you're leaving?" He asked, the blank tone leaving and only a panic replacing it. "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving us Sebastian." I took a breath, trying to keep my voice calm. "I'm leaving you."

His face dropped. 

"No darling, you can't please I cant lose you-" He cried out.

"You already have Sebastian!" I yelled out, my calm composure leaving and the same tears I had tried to hide fell.

"No I haven't! You're all I have left! Please everyone else has left you can't leave too!" He pleaded. He dropped to my knees, holding the bottom of my skirt.

"I can't stay Sebastian."

"Why? Please give me a reason?"

"You couldn't even tell that I was dying as you kept meddling in the Dark Arts." I said angrily. "I feel like I have lost everyone and everything because of your choices, I am lost and angry. I have been waiting and waiting for you to just say that you want me, that you want us to move on, that you want a family. I just wanted you to want me!"

"I do! Darling I do want you, more than anything."

"It's too late Sebastian. I've made up my mind, and I can't keep wasting away what little youth I have left begging you to change." I felt hot tears stream from my face.

"Please, I need you." He begged.

"You'll be okay." I reached for the doorhandle, looking back one more time. Sebastian was on his knees, tears welled in his eyes. "Perhaps one day, we can be together again."

"I'll always find you." He said. "I'll become better for you."

"You haven't. That's the problem." I spoke, opening the door and taking in the air from outside. This would be the last time I stepped into this house, the last time I spoke to him. "I love you Sebastian."

"I love you too..."

With that I shut the door, pulling my trunk and myself to the Floo station in Feldcroft. I let the tears stream as I heard a guttural scream come from our- no, his home. I had to keep going, I had to keep moving. I pulled my floo powder out, taking a large handful.

"Gaunt Manor!" I said clearly.

I felt my heart begin to beat again, the pain beginning to ease at the new beginning I was given.

[s1lu3s]

WELL-DESERVED REST, zayne.

warnings: suggestive content +18, oral (fem receiving), masturbation. pairing: zayne x y/n notes: GUYYSS OMGGG WE REACHED THE 150 NOTES WHAT THE HELL?! i also wanna thank you for all the reblogs 😭🩵 just wanted to thank you very much, this means a lot for me, bc i honestly thought that i would never reach something like this sooo in order to celebrate, i write this one about our lovely doctor, hope u enjoy it the same as the rest <3 credits for the banner of mdni to roseschoices.

Christmas was always a very bad time to visit Zayne at work. No matter what time of year it is, no one stops having incidents because of it. In spite of everything, you don't stop going there to see him so he can rest even if it's just for a few minutes.

Your poor boyfriend has to deal with all kinds of people and you just want to make his workday a little more pleasant. So you take the bag of food from his favorite restaurant, add the dessert from the best place where they make the best popsicles and leave it on the passenger seat.

Today you wanted to surprise Zayne with a nice dinner even though he told you to stay home because of the cold weather. But you can't sit still and do nothing when he's going to work day and night no matter when it's his shift.

So you park your car on a street a little further back from the hospital so he won't see it and walk over there. Since you warned Greyson about your plans, he gave you just this once a key to enter by the back door of the hospital, which can only be used by the staff. You would return it to him. Or not, if Zayne continues to work the same way as he is. 

When you finish climbing the eight flights of stairs, you end up with irregular breathing. Instead of using the elevator, you've had to use the only alternative left to avoid all chances of your boyfriend seeing you here. But it will be worth it, you assure yourself, because you plan to have this Christmas dinner even if it's not at home. 

So before knocking on his office door you finish controlling your breathing, stretch your back and tie your hair up to give it some grace and movement. You knock a couple of times and manage to hear a low “come in” before you cross the threshold of the door and close it by subtly turning the knob.

“Merry Christmas, Dr. Zayne.” Just the first of your words was enough for him to recognize you and raise his head from the pile of papers scattered on his desk. It must have been a very hard day for him to have his desk like this.

You observe without saying anything about his reaction and how he frowns when you place the bag with the food on one of the chairs in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks in his usual dry tone.

“Can't I bring dinner to my boyfriend? “You bite your lip as you approach his chair. “Besides, I also brought your favorite dessert.” You smile playfully, pointing to the bag with the popsicles.

“I expressly told you not to come.” He replies warily, not taking his disapproving gaze away as you settle in and give him a small kiss on the cheek.

“And are you going to do anything about it, Dr. Zayne?” You bring your lips to his as you start playing with the buttons of his shirt.

“For the moment, I don't know. You like being close to the edge too much, though.

“What can I say, anything to help my boyfriend unwind from work.” You chuckle.

“Hum.” He sighs, as he rests his head on your chest and moves his arms over your thighs, tightening his grip on you. He lingers a few seconds too long, breathing on your breasts and spreading his soft breath through the thin fabric of the dress you wear. You feel your nipples perky.

“Zayne?” You call out, but he ignores you. He slides his hands down your legs to your buttocks. Your breathing hitches and you feel your pulse quicken. “Don't y-you want to have dinner?”

“I don't have that kind of hunger right now.” He replies flatly, as he stands up with you in his arms, pushing the contents of the table aside, “Or you prefer not to continue?”

You know from the gaze he gives you that you are incapable of saying no to him. Not when his eyes yearn to devour you and even less when you have him like this, caressing your skin.

“It 's okay.” You answer breathlessly, especially when his hands rest on your knees and he gently spreads your legs to slip between them.

“What am I going to do with you?” He sinks his head into the crook of your neck, smelling your vanilla scent.

He moves one of his hands from your hip to your back to unzip your dress. The fabric slides gracefully down your skin, leaving you naked from the torso. He helps you finally remove the dress, which falls to the floor.

And you're left in heels with your underwear.  

“I should deny you this, because it's not the first time you've completely disregarded what I tell you.”He whispers, kissing your neck and tightening his grip on your thighs.

The only thing you are able to hear is his heavy breathing and your heartbeat, sure that he is able to hear them too.

“But in turn, I should reward you with it, because if not for you, my life would have become an absolute mess.”

He pulls the thong up, rubbing against your already wet slit. You sigh in anticipation, clinging to his shoulders.

“Zayne…”

He unties your bra and pulls it back. His mouth moves down to one of your nipples. He circles it with his tongue and bites down gently. He kisses it again before turning his gaze back to you.

“It's impossible for me to keep my hands off you. Especially if you look this... tasty.”

He wraps the edges of the thong around his fingers and pushes down slowly. Your skin bristles and you shiver from the cold. He has once again let out his Evol. 

“So... what should I do?” He stammers. His husky voice makes you even wetter if that's possible. “You don't say anything now?”

He rests his hands behind you, making you lean back slightly.

“I guess as long as you put work aside, anything's fine for me.” Is the only witty reply you can think of.

Zayne smiles slyly at your failed sarcastic comment.

“You're damn stubborn... You know that, don't you?”

You just giggle.

“You still like me though.” He looks back at you.

“You do.” He offers, before kissing your shoulder again and bending down to you. Kissing and licking your skin, Zayne crouches down before you. He holds your left leg and continues to leave a trail of wet kisses down to your knee.

You sigh, throwing your head back.

You don't even dare to move a muscle when Zayne finally slides his tongue shallowly over your needy slit. Her warm breath moistens it even more, something that makes you shudder and makes your stomach tingle slightly.

“Don't forget to breathe, darling.” He smirks condescendingly, holding your leg tighter. You blush more.

His gaze meets yours before he runs his tongue along your folds again, this time going over you thoroughly from top to bottom.

A sweet moan escapes your lips as he continues to devour you relentlessly. He thrusts his tongue as far in as possible, teasing you and turning you on more as he makes room at your entrance and plays with it. Your thighs are trembling, so he spreads your legs wider and immobilizes you so he can taste you better.

“Z-Zayne...” You babble senselessly. The heat of his mouth on you consumes you in the most exquisite way. You arch your back and press his face to you, pulling at his hair.

“I like order, but seeing the chaos in you every time you're about to come is absolutely awesome.” He looks at you with a look of adoration and devotion in his eyes that makes you tender. He kisses your inner thigh and his mouth comes back to rest on your clit, circling and caressing it. His torrid tongue finds its way into your folds and continues to lick, up and down, without pause, but either not as quickly.

You gasp again as he inserts two of his fingers and begins scissoring them. You feel yourself getting more and more on edge and along with it, Zayne's mouth keeps licking everything you give him.

“Your taste is so addictive... so sweet.” He dives back between your thighs, sucking, licking and feeling you cling tightly to his fingers.

“P-please...” You whisper. You feel your vision blur as he continues to push his fingers and rub your clit delicately.

Your consciousness becomes fuzzy as you are caressed and filled. So you feel somewhat empty as he pulls his fingers out of you, licks them and looks at you with his desire-filled eyes.

“Forget about the damn popsicles. You are definitely my new favorite dessert.”

[romerona]

All Y/N ever wanted to do was sing her songs and be free. Yet somehow, after offering to pay for the meal of a certain boy in a straw hat she finds herself causing havoc through the East Blue.

Masterlist - Next.

Trigger warning: canon violence. Word count: 10K

A/N: The only thing I will be describing about Y/N is her hair colour. Everything else you can imagine her as you wish.

Disclaimer: The songs I will be using in this fic aren't mine bc I have 0 creativity. I'm sorry.

If you want to know, what the melody of this chapter song is like, The River by Daisy Jones and the Six is the inspiration.

"Hit the deck!"

Y/N barely had a moment to brace herself before the thunderous explosion erupted across the deck of the Going Merry. The cannonball struck with a force that rattled her bones, the shockwave sending her sprawling as she dropped to the floor, clutching her head. The wood of the railing splintered and cracked under the impact, filling the air with the sharp scent of burning timber and saltwater. Pieces of the ship’s railing exploded outward, shards of wood spinning through the air like deadly projectiles. She flinched as one of the splinters sliced across her cheek, leaving a warm trickle of blood in its wake.

Disoriented, she felt the world tilt and sway as the ship rocked from the blast, and she struggled to get her bearings. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up on trembling legs.

"Everybody okay?" Luffy asked, his voice carrying over the chaos, unshaken by the cannon fire.

"I think so," Nami replied, her breath coming out a bit shaky.

Y/N wiped the blood from her cheek. "Define ‘okay.’ If it means mildly traumatized but still standing, then yeah, I'm peachy."

Usopp, on the other hand, looked like he’d just seen his life flash before his eyes. "No! Not okay! Not even close to okay!"

Luffy barely glanced at him before turning to the Marine ship in the distance, his finger pointing toward the enemy vessel with a gleam in his eye. "Usopp, fire back at them!"

Usopp’s eyes widened in horror, and he shook his head, his voice pitching. "Or, how about we sail away as fast as we can?"

Y/N nodded, jumping on Usopp’s idea immediately, "Now, that sounds like a solid plan. Strategic retreat, y’know? Let’s live to panic another day!"

Luffy looked between them, clearly baffled like they’d just suggested something completely outlandish. "Run from the Marines? No. Never! Nami, trim the… the sail thing."

"Let’s sink their ship," Luffy told Ussop who had made his way next to the straw hat boy, and both started to prepare the cannon.

Y/N's eyes widened, and she shot a desperate glance at Nami. “Are you hearing this insanity? Oh, shi- look at them!”

Nami spared her a look, it was obvious her patience was wearing thin as she glared at Luffy. "We don’t have time. They’re stealing our wind. If they pull up alongside us, we’re finished."

"You’re the navigator," Luffy said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, while he and Usopp continued their preparations. "Do something."

Nami, fighting to keep her composure, took a deep breath. Her eyes flashed to Zoro and then to Y/N, as if by instinct, as she ordained, "Sheet in and hard to port!"

Y/N, groaning in defeat, moved toward the ropes. “Fantastic. Nothing like outrunning doom while trying not to strangle myself with these ropes.”

"Which way is port?" Zoro asked, his brow furrowed in confusion, making Y/N stop in her tracks and give him a look that could melt steel.

She nearly burst into tears right then and there.

“It’s on your left, Zoro!” she exclaimed, grabbing his arm and hauling him toward the ropes. “You do know left from right… don’t you? Is important to me that you know that.”

Zoro didn’t even bother to answer, letting Y/N pull him along as they hurried to execute Nami’s orders. But before they could even begin to unravel the ropes, the unmistakable sound of cannonballs rolling across the deck made them freeze.

For a beat, Y/N just stared at the incoming cannonballs as they tumbled to her feet. Her mind was blank and her gut twisting into knots. Then she pursed her lips, nodding slowly. "We're fucked."

Suddenly, a deep, booming voice of the vice admiral rang out across the open sea, slicing through the chaos like a hot knife through butter.

"Pirate vessel, by order of the Marines, lower your sails and submit to my authority."

Y/N’s body froze at the sound of the vice admiral’s booming voice. It pierced the chaos around her, and for a brief, suffocating moment, everything else disappeared. Her heart skipped a beat as a familiar, overwhelming sense of dread flooded her chest. Her breath caught, shallow and rapid, as memories—unbidden and sharp—began to surface like a nightmare she couldn’t outrun.

Flashes of her childhood flooded her vision: Marines with their cold faces set in determination as they hunted down her people. The cries of her father, the way he had fought to protect her, only to be torn away. Her small hands, gripped her father’s as they fled, knowing too well that escape was never truly an option. She could still feel the harsh net, still hear their voices—shouting commands, laughing as they dragged her father to his death. Her father... she could almost feel the warmth of his hand slipping from hers as he pleaded for her to take her sister and swim away.

A chill ran down her spine, and Y/N’s vision began to blur, the salty air thick in her lungs. The tightness in her chest grew, each breath more difficult to take. Her hands trembled, and she felt like she was back there, trapped in that terrified little girl’s body again, powerless and afraid. Her body was screaming at her to flee, to jump off the ship and swim far away, away from the threat of the Marines. But that was the panic talking. That was the fear, the survivor’s instinct, clawing at her.

No. Don’t be that scared child again. You’re not her anymore.

But the weight of the vice admiral’s words felt suffocating, like a trap closing in around her. The fear was real, deep-rooted, and it pressed against her chest like an iron band. Her mind screamed at her to run, to escape, but her body refused to obey. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or the crushing weight of the past that kept her frozen in place. All she could do was fight the urge to break down, to fall apart right then and there. The panic, the memories—they were all crashing into her at once, and there was nothing she could do to push them away.

Every muscle in her body tensed, her throat constricted, and all she could do was cling to the edge of the ship until the loud shout of Luffy broke her haze.

"Never!" His voice carried across the water with unmatched conviction and defiance.

From the Marine vessel, the vice admiral stepped forward with surprising agility for his age, his steely eyes narrowing as he grabbed one of the heavy cannonballs.

With a grunt that could’ve been heard a mile away, the old marine hurled the cannonball with a surprising amount of strength, sending it rocketing through the air toward the Going Merry. The cannonball cut through the wind, heading straight for them with deadly accuracy. For a moment, Y/N froze, watching the projectile fly toward them, her heart in her throat. This is it, she thought. I'm dead.

But before she could even fully process it, Luffy, with a sudden lurch, made his stomach expand to ridiculous proportions, ballooning out until he looked like he was going to burst. The cannonball collided with his belly with a dull thud, bouncing harmlessly off him before it ricocheted off Luffy’s rubbery body and hurtled back toward the Marine ship. Y/N’s eyes widened as it made its way back to them, and with a sickening crash, it collided directly with one of the mastiffs on the Marine ship, knocking it down with a loud crash.

For a moment, Y/N could only blink, stunned into silence. Then, she exhaled slowly, her breath coming out in a soft whoosh. “How the hell...?”

"That was amazing!" Usopp exclaimed, his face lighting up with awe. "You saved us, Luffy!"

Nami, still catching her breath, gave Luffy an incredulous look. "You didn’t tell me you could do that,"

"I didn’t know I could!" Luffy admitted, right before Usopp lunged at him, wrapping him in a hug laughing and bouncing around in a strange mix of relief and victory.

“Good going, Stud!” Y/N let out an airy chuckle, the sound of it light and almost free as she finally allowed the tension to slip away, watching them celebrate their unlikely victory. She leaned against the railing, her body trembling ever so slightly as she realized how close she’d been to falling apart. The adrenaline was wearing off, and she could feel her legs threaten to give way beneath her. She closed her eyes, pressing her palms against the cool wood, taking a slow, steadying breath, taking in the scent of the sea.

“Nami, get us out of here!” Luffy called to Nami.

“On it. Let’s disappear,” Nami replied, her voice laced with determination as she took control, hands steady on the wheel.

With a swift pull, she guided the Going Merry into position, adjusting the sails to catch what little wind they had left. The ship surged forward, slicing through the waves as if it were as eager to escape as they were and headed into a misty, thick and impenetrable cloud, like a veil hiding them from the Marines.

“Hey,” came Zoro’s monotone voice, causing Y/N to flinch just a little. It was subtle, but she couldn’t hide the sharp jolt in her chest. Embarrassed, she quickly masked her discomfort, forcing a wide, confident smile as if nothing was wrong.

“Oh, Zoro, hey,” she said, her voice smooth but her heart still racing slightly.

Zoro’s eyes remained as indifferent as ever, but they narrowed just a fraction, the skepticism in them barely perceptible.

“You good?” he asked, his tone flat, but there was a hint of concern buried beneath the surface.

Y/N froze for a moment, caught off guard by his directness. She flashed him a playful smirk, hoping to deflect without showing any sign of vulnerability. “Worried about little ol’ me, hot shot? Didn’t think you had a sweet side."

Zoro’s expression didn’t change, but whatever trace of concern had been there moments ago was now gone. Y/N, half-expecting him to leave her be—because, honestly, he wasn’t exactly known for his warm and fuzzy bedside manner—thought her flippant attitude would have been enough to successfully send him packing. Yet, to her surprise (and slight dismay), he stayed. He simply crossed his arms and stared at her with that unreadable intensity.

Y/N’s smirk faltered, the confidence she wore like armor wavering under the weight of his unrelenting stare. There was something unnerving about how much attention he was paying to her but refused to let it show fully. Instead, she waved a hand dismissively, her voice light and playful. “Do not fret, it’s just a scratch. My face will be back to its former glory in no time.”

Zoro didn’t even blink. “That’s not what I’m talking about,”

But Y/N did—several times, rapid and involuntary, her mind faltering as his words struck a nerve she wasn’t ready to face. The tightness in her chest flared again, and she fought to push away the remnants of panic still twisting in her gut. It was relentless, simmering just beneath the surface, refusing to let go. The memories clawed at her mind—the sight of those Marines, the booming voice of authority—it all came rushing back too fast, too vividly, too... loud.

Her smirk faltered, morphing into something softer, a practised smile. She had perfected this act over the years. No one could know. No one could see how much of her was still haunted, how much of her was a cracked foundation barely held together by sheer will.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Zoro,” she said lightly, tilting her head just enough to feign nonchalance. “I’m fine. Really.”

And without waiting for an answer or even a flicker of something that could resemble an expression, she manoeuvred around him. Her smile remained firmly in place, but her pace quickened as she walked away, leaving Zoro standing there. She made her way to Nami, positioning herself beside her as though nothing had happened, knowing the proximity to the pretty navigator would steady her fraying nerves. Like her steady rock.

Soon, the Going Merry was swallowed by the dense mist, the fog thick and impenetrable, wrapping around them like a heavy shroud. The usual brightness of the open sea was replaced by an eerie stillness, the world around them muffled and grey. No one could see more than a few feet in any direction.

"How’s the ship look?" Nami asked, her voice cutting through the silence when she saw the swordsman return from checking the damage.

"Broken railing. Minor damage," Zoro said as she set herself next to her.

Y/N hums in encorgament. "Could've been worse."

"Could’ve been better," Nami muttered, her tone sour.

Usopp squinted into the dense fog, searching for any sign of the Marines. "Can’t see the Marines anywhere,"

Y/N glanced over the side of the ship, also squinting into the dense fog. "Can't see anything at all, I think you mean."

"What we need is a place to lay low and wait out any reinforcements they send after us," Nami said, her voice already tinged with frustration as she glanced down at the map in her hands. "But my charts are useless in this fog."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone dry. "Great. So we’re basically sailing blind."

"What did Luffy say?" Zoro wondered aloud.

Usopp, squinting through the fog, replied, "He’s on the bow. He hasn’t said anything since we hightailed it out of there."

"Well, somebody needs to talk to him. About this and that other thing." Nami’s voice was laced with frustration as she turned to the others, clearly not thrilled with the situation.

"What other thing?" Zoro asked, confusion flickering across his face.

Y/N shot him a look—a mix of disbelief and exasperation, her expression practically screaming "Seriously?" She wondered how could someone be so perceptive and yet be as oblivious as a plank. For a fleeting moment, she even wondered if his cluelessness was some sort of elaborate act.

"Oh, gee, I wonder," Nami replied, her voice thick with dry sarcasm before she deadpanned. "The vice-admiral-of-the-Marines-is-my-grandfather thing."

Y/N pursed her lips, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her—understanding, skepticism, fear, and anger. The fear and anger tried to take root, but ultimately, understanding won out, its shadow softening the rest.

"Oh, that," Usopp said, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Yeah, I don’t really know the guy that well…"

Y/N sighed, crossing her arms as she turned to Nami. "And let’s think that maybe there’s a reason why he didn’t tell us," she said, her voice measured, though the tension behind it was undeniable.

Nami shot her a look, her eyes narrowing in a way that could only mean she wasn’t buying it. "But he should’ve. This is something that affects all of us."

Zoro grunted, rolling his eyes. "Doesn’t seem like a big deal."

"You’re his first mate," Nami shot back, rolling her eyes. "Kind of seems like that falls under your job description, hmm?"

"Fine," he muttered, clearly not thrilled about it.

It took all of five seconds—barely enough time to blink—before he turned right back around and rejoined them. Y/N raised a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. Now this was the Zoro she knew—the one who avoided digging deeper into anything if it required more than minimal effort. The other unsettling attentive version of him she’d dealt with earlier? Long gone.

“He seems fine to me,” Zoro said flatly, as though that was the final word on the matter.

"Did you even ask him?" Nami asks in exasperation.

“Hey!” Luffy suddenly called out, his voice cutting through their conversation and pulling everyone’s attention to him. The group turned to see him standing at the bow, sniffing the air like a bloodhound on a trail. His face was unusually focused, which immediately made Y/N sceptical. “You guys smell that?”

Y/N’s curiosity got the better of her. She hesitated, then took a subtle sniff, her brows knitting together when she couldn’t pick up anything out of the ordinary. “Smell what?

“There’s something on the breeze,” Luffy said, his voice uncharacteristically serious as he sniffed again. “Smells like… butter... Soy sauce... And meat.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, sharing a look with the others, searching for a second opinion. “That’s… oddly specific,”

Usopp, still looking around in confusion, squinted at the air. "I can’t smell anything,"

"Think he has brain damage?" Zoro muttered under his breath, watching Luffy sniff the air like a hound on a scent trail.

Nami sighed heavily, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "I think that every day."

Usopp, ever the voice of reason- or what passed for it to everyone else- said. "Look, Luffy, playing follow the smell is fun and all, but we really gotta get out of this fog. We’re sitting ducks in here."

"I know, but I smell food, which means there’s someone somewhere cooking!" Luffy reasoned, as if that simple fact somehow made perfect sense to him. He was grinning ear-to-ear, oblivious to the crew's growing frustration.

“Seriously?” Nami groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose before throwing her hands up in defeat. “Of course it’s about food.”

Y/N pursed her lips, her gaze shifting between the thick fog and Luffy’s eager, determined expression. She let out a small sigh and turned to Nami with a shrug. “Hey, it’s better than wandering aimlessly, right? At least his nose has a purpose.”

Nami muttered something under her breath about “purposefully leading us into trouble” but threw her hands up as she headed back to the helm. “Fine, whatever- just tell me where to go."

"Five degrees starboard!" Luffy shouted confidently, settling himself on the lamb’s head like it was some kind of throne. He sniffed the air once more, brow furrowing. "No! No! Three degrees back to port."

"Add food to the equation and suddenly he knows how to navigate."

Y/N, who had been bored staring into the mist, suddenly perked up as she caught sight of something faint, something slowly beginning to take shape. She squinted, her curiosity piqued. "What is that?"

“Add food to the equation, and suddenly he knows how to navigate,” Nami muttered under his breath, earning a soft chuckle from Y/N.

Y/N, who had been idly staring into the mist with growing boredom, suddenly straightened as her eyes caught sight of something faint—something slowly taking shape ahead of them. She squinted, her curiosity sparking. “What is that?”

“Is that land?” Zoro asked, his voice tinged with skepticism as he strained to make out the blurry outline in the distance.

Nami frowned, her brow furrowing in concentration. “It can’t be. There aren’t any islands anywhere near here.”

“What’s a… Baratie?” Usopp asked, his voice a mix of confusion and awe as he read the glowing red letters that seemed to hover like a lighthouse through the mist.

The crew fell silent as the shape came into sharper focus, the mist parting just enough to reveal something massive—a grand, almost otherworldly ship. Its design was like nothing they’d ever seen, whimsical and imposing all at once.

“Is that… a fish boat?” Y/N murmured, her eyes widening as she took in the strange structure. It wasn’t just a ship; it was a spectacle.

The ship continued to take shape, now unmistakably resembling a gigantic wooden fish, complete with intricately carved fins and a tail that seemed almost alive in its fluid design. Y/N’s eyes wandered to the collection of ships docked along its sides, their masts swaying gently with the movement of the water. The group stood in stunned silence, the sheer scale and craftsmanship of the structure leaving them momentarily speechless.

As the Going Merry docked alongside the Baratie, the eerie, solitary impression they had from afar melted away, replaced by a vibrant, bustling scene. The docks were alive with movement and sound. Sailors worked with practiced ease, tying ropes and securing their ships. Merchants were unloading crates filled with who-knew-what, their voices rising above the clatter of goods hitting the dock.

The air carried the faint aroma of sizzling food mixed with sea salt, teasing Y/N’s senses as she caught hints of laughter and animated chatter drifting from the fish-shaped structure itself. What once seemed mysterious and isolated now felt impossibly alive, like the heart of some hidden, seafaring world. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe—and a twinge of curiosity—at the liveliness surrounding them.

As the crew gathered on the deck and observed the bustling activity around the fish-shaped ship.

"Everyone's heading to that fish ship," Zoro remarked, curiosity evident in his tone.

Y/N, leaned over the railing, her awe evident as she stared at the grand fish-shaped vessel below. “It’s huge,”

“That smell,” Nami said thoughtfully, a small hum escaping her lips as the aroma of sizzling food reached her. “I think this place is a restaurant.”

"Then I know what we're gonna do next," Luffy declared, his eyes lit up with excitement.

Nami interjected, "Disguise the ship so the Marines can't find us?"

Y/N nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea."

"Sail back to Syrup Village, where it's safe?" Usopp offered, his tone equally hopeful, clutching at the last thread of safety.

But Luffy, grinning from ear to ear, announced, "Nah, let's eat!"

He turned on his heel and made to bolt toward the docks, but Y/N was faster. She grabbed his elbow, stopping him in his tracks. “Luffy, wait. We can't go in-"

Luffy turned to her, his grin faltering into a slight frown, his confusion evident as he leaned closer, their faces almost touching. “What? Why not? It’s right there—all we have to do is walk in.”

“Sure, we can,” Y/N began, her eyes flicking down to his less-than-impressive attire with a small, knowing smirk. “But not dressed like this.”

Luffy blinked, his confusion deepening.

“You’re handsome, stud, and yeah, you’ve got charm." Y/N said, patting his arm playfully, “But trust me, as a former waitress, there are places where you have to look the part. And I can tell this is one of them.”

She gestured toward the lively crowd below, some of whom were dressed a little better than the ragtag crew of the Going Merry. Luffy frowned, glancing down at himself as if only now realizing his outfit wasn’t exactly fine dining material.

“So... we’re dressing up to eat?” he asked, clearly baffled.

“Exactly,” Y/N said, smiling at his adorable cluelessness. “And trust me, it’s gonna be worth it.”

Luffy stared at her for a beat before finally shrugging, his grin returning. “Okay! As long as we get to eat after!”

"That fish better have a bar," Zoro mutters as they all make their way to their room for a scrub and a change.

Y/N slipped into a dress that felt just right for the occasion—simple, but with just enough flair to make it special. The fitted top was decorated with delicate floral embroidery that gave it a soft, romantic feel, while the flowing skirt had an uneven, handkerchief hemline that added a touch of fun. The thin straps made it feel light and easy, perfect for the moment. It was the kind of dress that hugged her in all the right places but still felt comfortable, striking that perfect balance between casual and a little bit sexy.

Y/N smirked as she caught her reflection in the mirror, tilting her head to admire her handiwork. Her white, silver hair was styled into a loose, effortless updo, with a few soft strands artfully framing her face, giving her that perfect mix of elegance and I woke up like this charm. A touch of makeup—just enough to highlight her natural features—brought the whole look together: a faint blush on her cheeks, a sleek wing of eyeliner, and a hint of gloss that made her lips look positively kissable.

“Well, don’t I just look like a walking snack,” she quipped, turning to admire the sway of the dress. “Kaya’s got taste, I’ll give her that. I owe her at least three thank-you calls and a bottle of wine.”

With that, she spun on her heel, ready to turn heads.

“You all deeply disappoint me,” Y/N announced dramatically as she joined the others, her eyes scanning their outfits with a look of sheer disapproval. Their clothes were better than before, sure, but it was painfully obvious that she was the only one who had truly put in any effort. She placed a hand on her hip, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“Tragic. All of you,” she added with a flourish, her tone dripping with mock indignation, before muttering under her breath, “I can’t believe I have to carry this entire group's sense of style on my back.”

Luffy and Usopp glanced down at their outfits, their frowns deepening. Luffy was wearing a red shirt and overalls—like he’d just walked off a farm—and Usopp had decided to rock pants, a coat, and, for some unfathomable reason, no shirt. Someone help me, Y/N thought. Zoro, as expected, looked exactly the same as always—zero effort given, zero surprises there. Nami, at least, looked decent. Not great, but decent. Y/N clicked her tongue, shaking her head like a disappointed mother.

Nami noticed her scrutiny and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Oh, please, Y/N. This place is crawling with ugly pirates. We don’t have to look like royalty for them.”

Y/N smirked, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm as she adjusted the strap of her dress. “Sure, Nami, because when I think of my life goals, ‘blending in with ugly pirates’ is right at the top of the list.” She gave the group a once-over, then added with a mock sigh, “Listen, just because the bar is on the floor doesn’t mean I have to trip over it. Standards, darlings. Standards.”

"Can we just go now?" Zoro said to which Luffy nods excitedly.

She let out an exaggerated sigh, smoothing her hand over her dress like she was trying to gather the patience to deal with them. Finally, she gave the group a look of mock exasperation, her tone dripping with playful judgment.

“Alright, come on, let’s get this over with before I change my mind and pretend I don’t know any of you.” She started walking ahead, throwing a cheeky glance over her shoulder. "Be good, you’re all one embarrassing moment away from being disowned."

As they strolled through the bustling docks, Y/N walked with her head held high and a confident grin tugging at her lips. She could feel the stares following her, lingering longer than usual. Did it feel good to be admired? Absolutely—it always did. But she wasn’t naive; she knew exactly why they were staring. Her appearance, her aura, her very presence practically demanded attention. That’s one of her traits as a siren, after all. 

Still, the attention was something she chose to brush off… mostly. Every so often, her smirk widened just a fraction, a subtle acknowledgement that yes, she knew she was turning heads, and yes, she was enjoying it more than she’d ever admit.

“Wow, people do stare at you,” Usopp muttered, his wide eyes darting around the dock as merchants and pirates. His tone was half amazement, half bewilderment.

Y/N’s grin widened, a mischievous glint in her eye as she smoothly linked her arm with his.

“Why, yes, they do,” she replied with a playful lilt. “Care to be my arm candy for the evening, champ? Strictly for appearances, of course.”

Usopp’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and he let out a nervous chuckle.

“I… uh… okay,” he stammered, trying to muster a confident smile.

Y/N leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Relax, Usopp. Just think of it as adding another daring tale to your collection.”

He straightened up a bit, a spark of pride flickering in his eyes.

“Yeah, I can do that,” he said, more to himself than to her.

As they continued down the dock, Y/N couldn’t help but smirk.

“Besides,” she added with a playful wink, “who wouldn’t want to be seen with the most dashing slinger here?”

Usopp smirked, his chest puffing out as her confidence seemed to spark something in him. With his newfound swagger, he added an exaggerated strut to his step. He looked as though he’d just been crowned king of the dock.

Y/N chuckled and glanced back at Nami, who was trailing behind with Luffy, who was looking at everyone and everything all at once and Zoro, who looked like he rather be anywhere else. The orange-haired girl rolled her eyes, but there was a trace of amusement on her face that betrayed her usual exasperation. Y/N shot her a playful grin.

“Want to be my other arm candy?” Y/N teased, holding out her free arm with an exaggerated flourish. Her grin was as charming as it was mischievous. “I promise, you’ll steal just as many stares as me.”

“Pass,” she said, though the playful tone in her voice made it clear she was more amused than annoyed. “I think you’ve got enough attention for all of us,”

Y/N chuckled, turning back with a shrug. “Suit yourself, but you’re missing out on being part of the most glamorous trio this dock has ever—and will ever—see.”

She barely finished her sentence when a voice cut through the noise of the docks, calling her name.

“Y/N?”

Her entire body froze, the familiar voice making her breath catch in her throat. She snapped her head toward the source, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Tallen?” she whispered, barely able to get the word out.

Standing a few feet away was a man with a face she’d never forgotten—dimples carved into his handsome smile, a warmth in his eyes that brought a rush of memories crashing down on her. The sight of him stole her breath.

“Oh, the stars, it’s you!” she exclaimed, a wide, joyous smile breaking across her face as she let go of Usopp without a second thought. Before anyone could react, she all but ran into the man’s arms, colliding with him like a wave meeting the shore. He wrapped her in a hug so firm and familiar it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“Sweet Y/N,” Tallen murmured, his voice soft and steady, the way she remembered.

“It’s been too long,” she whispered, holding him tighter, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Far too long,” he agreed, his arms squeezing her just a bit more.

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat, leaning into the hug as if letting go would break her. 

“I’m glad to see you alive,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m glad to see you alive,” Tallen replied softly, his words carrying the weight of shared history and loss. He was her fellow Siren—one of the last few, the dwindling remnants of their kind.

They lingered for a moment longer, their arms reluctantly falling away as they both seemed hesitant to break the connection. The warmth of the embrace lingered, but reality began to creep back in.

That’s when it happened—a deliberate clearing of a throat. Nami.

Y/N blinked, suddenly aware of her surroundings again. She turned to see Nami standing there with an arched brow, arms crossed, and a look that was equal parts curiosity and amusement. Behind her, Usopp was gaping like he’d just witnessed the twist ending of a great story, and Zoro, as usual, looked unimpressed but faintly intrigued and Luffy who had a trademark smile on his face yet curious. 

“Oh,” Y/N said, laughing awkwardly as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Right. Uh… introductions.” She glanced at Tallen and back to them. “Everyone, this is Tallen. He’s…” Her voice trailed off for a moment, her smile faltering slightly before she finished, “He’s an old friend.”

Tallen, ever the charmer, gave a polite nod to the group, his dimples deepening as he grinned. “Pleasure to meet you all.“ 

Before anyone had a chance to properly introduce themselves, Y/N cut in, her tone light but firm.

“I’ll meet you lot inside, okay?” she said, flashing them a quick smile.

Luffy looked between them, and after a second, he nodded grinning. “Okay, I’ll save you a seat.” 

Usopp muttered something about not wanting to be left behind and followed after Luffy. Nami lingered for a moment, giving Y/N a long look before sighing and heading toward the entrance.

Zoro, as usual, barely reacted, simply grunting, “Don’t take too long,” before following the others.

“Noted,” Y/N replied with a grin, already turning back to Tallen.

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at Tallen, a flood of emotions washing over her. The last time she’d seen him was about three or four years ago, and while he still looked very much the same, there was a new air of maturity about him—just enough to make her realize how much time had passed.

“It’s really you,” Y/N murmured, her voice tinged with disbelief and relief, as though she still wasn’t entirely convinced this moment was real.

“In the flesh,” Tallen replied with a nod, his own expression softening. He gave her a once-over, his lips curving into a teasing smile. “You look older.”

Y/N let out a huff of laughter, lightly pushing him on the shoulder. “And you still have the subtlety of a cannonball.”

Her playful smile faltered slightly as her eyes searched his face, her voice quiet but hopeful. “What about the others? Lyan, Kiku, Ren? Are they still—”

“Yes,” Tallen interrupted gently, his tone steady and reassuring. “They’re here with me.”

Y/N let out a deep sigh of relief, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “Where?”

“Probably asleep in the room on our ship,” Tallen explained, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. “We had a late-night performance last night.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across her face. “You got a ship?”

“A small one,” he said, trying (and failing) to hide just how proud he was. “But yes, we did.”

Without hesitation, Y/N threw her arms around him again, pulling him into a warm embrace. 

“I’m so happy for you—for all of you,” she whispered, her voice thick with genuine emotion.

Tallen’s smile widened as he held her, and for a moment, they simply existed in the comfort of the reunion.

Lyan, Kiku, and Ren—like Y/N and Tallen—were Sirens. They were the lucky few who had escaped the hands of those who sought to harm or exploit them. Together, they had formed their own little family, bound by survival and shared pain. They’d taught Y/N so much in the time they travelled together, how to survive in a world that wanted them gone.

And like true Sirens, they dedicated themselves to their art—music, song, and performance—using their gifts to dazzle. She could still hear their songs in her memory—hauntingly beautiful, filled with life and defiance. They’d always been on the move, hopping from island to island, hitching rides with mercenaries or, when times were desperate, even pirates. And yes, while swimming is a faster option, the risk is bigger. Staying in one place too long was a death sentence; that was the first lesson Y/N had learned from them. And now, the thought that they had their own ship, a small but significant freedom, made her heart swell with pride.

“You’ve come so far,” Y/N said softly, pulling back slightly to look at Tallen. “You all have.”

“And so have you,” Tallen replied, his tone warm and genuine. “I’m glad we found you again. Tell me, who are those people you’re here with?” 

“They’re… uh, friends,” Y/N replied, her tone unsure as she glanced over her shoulder toward the Going Merry. She hesitated, catching the way Tallen was giving her a pointed, knowing look. Finally, she sighed and added, “It’s complicated—and a long story.”

“Well,” Tallen said with a grin, leaning back slightly, “good thing we’re leaving tomorrow morning. That gives us all night to catch up."

"Okay," Y/N nods.

“Good,” Tallen said with satisfaction, taking a step back. “See you later at the bar, okay?”

“See you there,” Y/N replied, watching him as he walked away, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

Finally, Y/N stepped inside the ship, and her breath hitched at the sight before her. The Baratie was nothing short of magnificent, a unique blend of maritime charm and upscale elegance.

However, before Y/N could truly take in the grandeur of the Baratie's interior, her gaze locked onto the host near the entrance. Her back stiffened instinctively, and though she kept her composure, the small, well-concealed gills along her neck fluttered. They only did that when another sea creature was nearby.

He was a Fish-man.

For a moment, their eyes locked, and the air between them seemed to hum with a quiet, unspoken tension. He knew. Of course, he knew. The thing about Sirens—unique among sea creatures—was that no matter how perfectly they blended in with humans, their presence sang to others of the sea. It wasn’t something tangible, but like a melody carried on a current, it was impossible to ignore for those born of the ocean.

It wasn’t just recognition. It was history, unspoken and heavy, carried in their shared gaze. Sirens and other sea folk—whether Fish-men or Merfolk—had always harbored a quiet animosity toward one another. Sirens had something the others didn’t: choice. Sirens had a freedom that others of the sea could only dream of: the ability to seamlessly blend in with humans, to walk on land or dive into the ocean at will, and to choose when to wear a tail and when to shed it. It was a luxury that set them apart—and not always in a good way. Resentment had festered for centuries, compounded by the Sirens’ refusal to bend the knee to King Neptune’s rule.

They were a secretive, lone species.

Yet, in the aftermath of the near-massacre of her kin, these old grudges had softened, replaced by mutual, unspoken support among the remnants of the sea's diverse inhabitants.

The host's polite smile never wavered as he addressed her. "Is there anything I can help you with, madam?"

Y/N took a steadying breath, reminding herself of the fragile peace that now existed and the necessity of keeping her composure.

“My friends,” she began, her tone calm but deliberate, “they came in here just now. Uh—one of them had a straw hat—”

“Ah, yes,” the host interrupted smoothly, a faint trace of mockery curling the edges of his voice. “The ‘future king’ of the pirates.” His words dripped with wry amusement as he turned, gesturing toward a table at which her friends were currently occupying. “It’ll be right there, madam.”

Y/N sent him a polite smile, the corners of her lips curving just enough to convey gratitude. But her eyes held a subtle, knowing look—a quiet reminder of who and what she was.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice steady and composed, before making her way towards her friends

Y/N let out a quiet huff as she descended the stairs, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished wooden floor. Internally, she was fuming. Tallen, she thought with a simmering annoyance. After this meal, I’m slapping his dimples clean off for not mentioning the Fish-Men.

But in her mild frustration and distraction, she didn’t notice the waiter stepping out from the side with a tray balanced on one hand.

They collided.

The sudden impact caused her to stumble slightly, and she instinctively reached out to steady herself, her hand brushing against the waiter's arm. A soft clatter followed as a single glass wobbled on the tray, but before it could fall, the waiter caught it effortlessly, his reflexes as smooth as silk.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” Y/N blurted, her voice a mix of embarrassment and genuine apology, a faint flush dusting her cheeks.

"No need to apologize, mademoiselle," he said smoothly, turning to face her with a charming smile that she was sure he thought could probably disarm a shipful of pirates, "If anything, I should thank the heavens for allowing me to cross paths with such a captivating beauty."

Y/N blinked at him, caught momentarily off guard by his line, but only for a heartbeat. Oh, he's one of those. Her lips curved into a sly, confident smile as she straightened her dress, effortlessly slipping into her usual charm.

"Is that so?" she teased, tilting her head ever so slightly. "Well, if fate's handing out meetings, perhaps it's my lucky day to encounter a waiter with such impeccable reflexes and a silver tongue to match."

The waiter's eyes widened for a brief moment, her words catching him off guard, but his signature charm quickly returned. He straightened his posture, one hand adjusting his tie as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Ah, mademoiselle, you honor me,” he said smoothly, his voice rich and velvety. “But let me assure you, my reflexes pale in comparison to the elegance of your words. It seems fate isn’t just kind—it’s downright generous today.”

His gaze softened as he leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “And if this is your lucky day, then I’d consider it mine too. After all, it’s not every day I get to save a stunning woman from the perils of a wobbling glass.”

“Smooth,” she said and leaned in slightly, her expression mischievous, her voice dropping to a low, playful lilt. “But tell me, loverboy, is that line part of the menu, or is it just a special off-the-cuff dish you whip up for unsuspecting women?”

Sanji blinked, the faintest hint of pink dusting his cheeks, but he quickly tried to recover, clearing his throat. “I-"

Her eyes sparkled as she continued, barely giving him a chance to recover.

“Because if it’s the latter, I must say, it’s quite the treat. Though…” her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made his breath hitch. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a soft, almost conspiratorial tone. “I can’t help but wonder if you’ve got something even better in your repertoire.”

Sanji blinked, momentarily at a loss, his cheeks dusted with a soft pink hue as he struggled to regain his composure. He adjusted his tie again, swallowing hard, his usual suave demeanor slipping under the weight of her effortless teasing.

“M-mademoiselle,” he stammered, his voice still coated with charm, though now tinged with genuine fluster. “I assure you, my repertoire has no limits, and I’d be honored to… to serve you something truly unforgettable.”

Y/N took a step closer, her eyes never leaving his.

"You know," she said softly, reaching up to straighten his slightly askew tie, "flattery will get you everywhere." Her fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary, her touch light and teasing.

The waiter's breath hitched, his composure slipping as a deep flush spread across his cheeks. "I-I... um..."

Y/N leaned in, faces ever so closely, she whispered, "But only if you can keep up." With that, she pulled back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have friends waiting."

She turned on her heel and sauntered away, leaving the flustered waiter staring after her, his heart pounding in his chest. She couldn't help but chuckle to herself. Too easy.

Y/N made her way over to her friends, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She paused when she reached the table, her eyes scanning the group briefly before landing on Zoro, who was comfortably perched at the edge of the bench.

“Zoro,” she said, her tone light but teasing, “please stand up so I can sit next to Nami.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow at her, clearly unimpressed. “What’s wrong with sitting on the other side?”

Y/N tilted her head, her expression turning mock-serious as she placed a hand on her hip. “Because I prefer not to be in the splash zone when Luffy starts eating. You know how he gets.”

Zoro grumbled under his breath, muttering something about "drama queens," but he stood up anyway, shifting to another spot and letting Y/N slide gracefully into the seat next to Nami without a fuss.

She turned to him with a triumphant smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Thank you, my love. Your cooperation is, as always, greatly appreciated.”

"Yeah, yeah," Zoro muttered, settling into his new seat.

Nami chuckled softly beside Y/N. "Always know how to get your way, don't you?"

Y/N winked. "It's a gift, really."

The waiter approached their table with practiced ease, balancing a tray of beverages for the group. One by one, he placed the drinks in front of the others, his movements smooth and deliberate. Just as Y/N was about to ask for hers, he surprised her by setting a bottle of wine on the table in front of her with a small flourish.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued as she glanced up at him. His smirk was confident, almost playful, as he leaned slightly closer.

“A fine wine for a finer ladies,” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with charm.

The corner of Y/N’s lips curled into a sly smile as she leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing casually.

“Flattering,” she replied, tilting her head. “But I don’t remember ordering this."

Y/N turned to Nami faking curiosity, "Did you, pumpkin?"

"No, just water," Nami said as she picked up the glass of water.

"I see," Y/N turns to the waiter and tilts her head. "Does it come with the compliments of the establishment or the waiter?”

“Consider it a personal recommendation,” he said, straightening slightly, though there was now a faint hint of nervousness behind his confident demeanor. With practiced precision, he poured a bit of the wine into her glass, the rich liquid swirling smoothly as it settled.

“The food will be out shortly. Enjoy,” he added, flashing one last ever-so-charming smile before gracefully excusing himself.

Y/N watched him go with an amused smirk before raising her glass. “Well, salud,” she said, the word rolling off her tongue effortlessly as she took a sip. She paused for a moment, savoring the taste, then gave a small nod of approval.

“Not bad,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling as she placed the glass back on the table. “But then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less after that performance.”

Nami rolled her eyes. “He’s got some nerve, doesn’t he?”

Y/N chuckled. “Oh, he’s got more than nerve—he’s got good taste in wine, at least.”

“So, who was your friend you were talking to?” Luffy asked, his voice muffled as he shoved another bread bun into his mouth without a care for table manners.

Usopp grinned, leaning forward with his eyebrows wiggling teasingly. “A boyfriend?”

“Gods, no,” Y/N said with a laugh, shaking her head as she took another sip of her wine. “Like I said, just an old friend. One I didn’t think I’d ever see again.”

“Why?” Nami chimed in, her tone laced with curiosity.

Y/N paused for a moment, swirling the wine in her glass as she felt their collective gazes on her. She glanced around the table, noting how everyone seemed genuinely interested—except Zoro, of course, who only looked vaguely curious in that nonchalant way of his.

“Well,” she began, her voice casual but carrying a note of fondness, “me and a few others used to travel together, performing and stuff, y’know.” She gestured vaguely with her free hand, her eyes flicking between them. “We were kind of like a troupe—dancers, musicians, storytellers. We’d go from town to town, putting on shows for whoever would watch.”

“Oh, were they your crew—” Luffy started, crumbs still falling from his mouth.

“No,” Y/N interrupted softly, her tone firmer this time, her gaze dropping to the glass in her hand. “They’re no crew. They’re family.”

She fidgeted slightly in her seat, swirling the wine in her glass before taking another sip as if it might steady her thoughts.

“They’re like an uh—” she began, then shook her head with a quiet laugh, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Like a shoal of fish or a covey of birds. Travelling from island to island letting the ocean take them as it wishes. Never staying in one spot long enough to leave footprints.”

“Why didn’t you stay with them?” Of course, it was Zoro who asked, his tone direct, his eyes focused on her like he was cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

Y/N looked up at him, her lips parting slightly as if to answer, but then her gaze shifted to Nami, who was watching her just as intently, curiosity swimming in her eyes. Her fingers tightened slightly around the stem of her glass, and for a moment, the table felt far too quiet, far too heavy.

But as if the universe took pity on her, the food arrived at just the right moment, breaking the tension. Plates upon plates were placed on the table, filling the air with rich, mouthwatering aromas. Y/N let out a silent breath of relief, leaning back slightly as the waiter set down her dish.

She picked up her fork, her expression brightening ever so slightly as she joined in the excitement of the food.

“Finally, something to stop Luffy from eating the table itself,” she teased lightly, earning a laugh from Usopp and a grin from Nami.

The question lingered in the air, unspoken but not forgotten. But Y/N knew she wouldn’t let it resurface. The answer was too close, too raw. The past had no business here, at this table, at this moment. Not when she’d worked so hard to leave it behind.

The food was nothing short of spectacular, each bite bursting with flavor that left Y/N savoring every moment. It didn’t take long for the plates to clear—unsurprising, given Luffy and Usopp’s ravenous appetites. She barely had a chance to blink before half the dishes had vanished under their relentless enthusiasm.

Still, Y/N took her time, indulging in the meal like royalty. She filled herself to the brim, relishing every delicious bite until she leaned back in her chair, her stomach pleasantly full and her breaths coming slower. She could hardly move, but it was worth it. Every bite was a little slice of heaven, and she wasn’t about to let a single morsel go to waste.

As she leaned back in her chair, a hand resting on her overly full stomach, she let out a soft groan of satisfaction. “If I die tonight, tell the world it was the Baratie that did me in,”

I can’t eat another bite," Usopp moaned dramatically, staring longingly at the piece of cheese on his fork. "But it’s so good."

"Oh man, you said it," Zoro muttered, popping the cap off yet another beer like he was just getting started.

Nami sighed, leaning back in her chair with a hand on her stomach. "I’m not gonna be hungry for a week."

And then, of course, there was Luffy—completely unaffected. Still chewing on a massive steak, he looked up and, with the kind of unshakable enthusiasm only he could manage, asked, "Should we order dessert?"

"Yes," Y/N grunted, her voice muffled as she leaned back, trying to make room in her overstuffed stomach. She might have been at capacity, but her notorious sweet tooth wasn’t about to let her skip dessert. Priorities, she thought.

"I already got mine," Zoro said, lifting his beer meaningfully as if it was the only dessert he needed.

Luffy’s eyes lit up like fireworks, his hands clapping against the table as he finally set his steak down. "Mmm, that reminds me! We should make a toast. Come on, grab your glasses."

Y/N turned her head to look at Luffy, her expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement as she watched him grab his glass of milk. She sighed, unable to suppress a small smirk, and reached for her wine glass, holding it up lazily.

“To the best crew sailing on the sea and to our victory!” Luffy cheered, his grin stretching wide as he clinked his glass enthusiastically with Usopp’s.

“Yeah!” Usopp echoed, raising his mug like they’d just conquered the world.

Y/N, however, pursed her lips, quietly letting her glass go down. The memory of being so dangerously close to recapture by the Marines clung to her like a shadow, one she wasn’t ready to toast to. Victory wasn’t exactly how she’d describe that ordeal.

“No, I’m sorry,” Nami’s voice cut sharply through the celebration, her expression firm as she turned to Luffy. Her eyes narrowed. “What victory exactly?”

“Against the Marines,” Luffy said with unabashed excitement, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Our very first battle, and we crushed them!”

Nami shook her head, her frustration barely masked. “I don’t know how many naval battles you guys have been part of…”

“Two dozen, at least,” Usopp mumbled behind his beer.

“But that was a disaster,” Nami continued, her tone rising as her exasperation grew. “We were unprepared, uncoordinated. By all rights, we should be at the bottom of the sea right now.”

“We’re not, though. Luffy saved us,” Usopp chimed in, as if that single fact could erase the chaos of it all.

Y/N let out a slow, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt the tension brewing. She could already see where this conversation was heading.

"Are we really going to ignore the elephant in the room right now?" Nami deadpanned, her voice sharp enough to cut through the remaining chatter at the table.

"Nami, please..." Y/N said softly, trying to settle her down, though she already knew it was a losing battle.

"No, Y/N." Nami turned to her, her tone edged with irritation, then immediately shifted her focus to Luffy. "He didn’t think to mention that his grandfather was a Marine. And not just any Marine, a vice-admiral! I don’t know about you, but I didn’t sign up for that."

"You raided a Marine base," Zoro interjected, as if that explained everything. "Of course that’ll make you a target."

Nami swung her gaze to him, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. "If I’d stolen the map, no one would’ve even known I was there. As opposed to wrecking a base commander’s office."

Before the tension could thicken, Sanji—the waiter, as Y/N now knew him—appeared at the table with his usual calm and charm. "Your bill, sir,"

“Ah,” Luffy replied with his trademark carefree smile which took a moment to appear. He took the bill, scribbled something on it without a second thought, and handed it back. “Thank you, my good man.”

Y/N’s frown deepened as she sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing on the exchange. Her mind shot back to Shell’s Town, to when Luffy ate at Food Foo. She had a bad feeling about this.

"Luffy..." Y/N said cautiously, her voice slower now, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

Sanji glanced at the bill, and a peculiar smile spread across his face—a smile that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine.

"No, sir. Thank you," Sanji said smoothly, his tone almost... too pleasant.

Oh, gods. As a former waitress, she recognized that smile. That was the you’re-about-to-regret-this smile. She glanced around at her friends to see if anyone else had caught on. Was she seriously the only one who understood what was about to happen?

She tried again, her voice firmer this time. "Luffy—"

But Luffy, ever oblivious, kept going, raising his voice slightly in what he probably thought was an inspirational tone. "I’m not saying it’s good that the Marines are on our tail, but we showed them they can’t just roll over us!"

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose as her suspicions grew. Luffy, please, stop talking.

"This crew, our crew, can handle anything!" Luffy declared with a triumphant grin.

And as if fate itself couldn’t resist the opportunity for drama, a booming voice cut through the restaurant, rattling the walls and silencing the entire room.

"WHO THE HELL IS MONKEY D. LUFFY?"

Y/N groaned, her head falling into her hands. "Here we go." She looked up just in time to see Luffy look back at the head chef and raise his hand.

"Here!" Luffy called out, completely unfazed.

Y/N slumped back into her seat, muttering under her breath. "Oh, stars,"

Zeff's scowl deepened as he strode over, the crowd parting in his wake.

"You seem to be confused about the rules of the house, but Baratie doesn’t offer credit," He stopped beside their table, towering over them, glaring at Luffy, who was calmly drinking his milk. "You eat, you pay."

Luffy looked up, unfazed. "I think you’re confused."

Y/N groaned, hiding her face in her hands as she anticipated Luffy's explanation.

"The meal has already been paid for. I just haven’t given you the money yet," Luffy continued confidently.

Zeff's eyebrow twitched. "Yeah, and how’s that?"

"You can add it to my treasure tab," Luffy said with a grin.

"And what, pray tell, is that?" Zeff asked, his tone flat.

"I may not look like a big deal yet, but you’re talking with the future King of the Pirates," Luffy declared, as if that would make it all go better. "And as soon as I find the One Piece, I’m gonna come back, pay this bill in full, and with interest."

The chef let out a low chuckle. “I’ve got a better idea.”

And just like that, Luffy was unceremoniously hauled off toward the kitchens.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, exhaling a long breath of resignation as her gaze drifted off into nothingness. She made no effort to intervene—it wasn’t worth it.

“I need a drink,” Nami muttered, rubbing her temple.

“Yeah, something stronger would be nice,” Y/N sighed, her tone weary.

The four made their way to the bar located in the mouth of the fish, settling into a quiet corner. Zoro was already on his third beer, Nami and Usopp on their first, while Y/N was still trying to decide what to order. Her deliberation was interrupted when a bartender approached and set a large cocktail down in front of her.

Y/N blinked, looking up at the bartender with confusion. “Uh... sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, he bought it for you,” the bartender cut in, nodding toward an older man perched at the bar. The man raised his glass and winked at her with a grin that sent a chill down her spine.

“Oh, goodie,” Y/N muttered under her breath, though she still managed to force a polite smile in the man’s direction. She turned back to the bartender quickly. “You can take it back. I—”

Before she could finish, Usopp reached over, snatching the drink with a grin. “No, I’ll take it!” he said cheerfully, taking a big sip. His face lit up almost immediately.

“Oh, this is good!” he said, waving enthusiastically at the older man. “THANK YOU!”

Y/N stared at him, half-exasperated, half-amused, as she sighed and leaned back in her chair. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

Nami leaned back in her chair. “You’ve got some admirers, Y/N.”

“Admirers I don’t want,” Y/N shot back, glaring playfully at Usopp as he continued to sip the drink. “Thanks for taking one for the team, Usopp.”

“Hey, waste not, want not.” He took another big sip, completely unbothered, while Nami rolled her eyes and Zoro chuckled into his beer.

"Speaking of waste not," Y/N said with a sly smirk, reaching over to grab Usopp's barely-touched beer. "I’ll take that off your hands, champ."

Usopp, completely absorbed in savouring the oversized cocktail, simply hummed in agreement, nodding absentmindedly as he took another enthusiastic sip.

“Thanks, generous as always,” Y/N chuckled, raising the glass to her lips, watching as Usopp continued to obliviously inhale the cocktail, none the wiser.

That was until Zoro, in an uncharacteristic act of charity, warned the boy, “Pace yourself.”

Usopp paused mid-sip, looking down at the drink with a skeptical expression. “I don’t even think there’s liquor in this. It tastes just like candy.”

Y/N tilted her head thoughtfully, a teasing hum escaping her lips. “Wouldn’t be so sure,”

Zoro took a swig of his beer and added dryly, “Yeah, last time I said that, I woke up face down under a table.”

Y/N burst out laughing, her grin wide and teasing. "Oh, I would’ve paid good berry to see that."

“Yeah, I bet you would’ve,” Zoro scoffed, his gaze shifting to Nami, who was staring intently at her glass, lost in thought. He raised an eyebrow before looking away. “That glass have gold on the bottom or what?"

Nami blinked, snapping out of her trance. “Hmm?”

“You haven’t stopped staring at it,” Zoro pointed out, his tone blunt as usual.

Nami sighed, clearly debating something, before finally caving and looking between Zoro and Y/N. “You seriously don’t think what Luffy did is messed up?”

Y/N’s teasing grin faded as she glanced down at her own drink. She could understand where Nami was coming from. Truly, she did. But who was she to demand someone to share their secrets? To dig up secrets or memories that Luffy clearly wanted to leave buried? That wasn’t her place.

“Yeah, he should’ve told us,” Zoro admitted, his tone calm and matter-of-fact. He leaned back in his chair before adding, “But in case you didn’t notice, we’ve been making enemies everywhere we go. Psycho clowns, killer butlers… what’s a vice-admiral gonna do to us that’s any worse?”

Y/N lifted her glass, her voice quieter but steady. “And who are we to demand something like that out of him? I’m sure he has his reasons for keeping it to himself.”

Nami shook her head, her frustration barely contained. “No, you don’t get it. I can’t get caught. Not when I’m so close…”

Her words trailed off abruptly as if she realized she had said too much. Her lips pressed together tightly, and Y/N made no effort to pry. She wouldn’t judge—she understood the weight of secrets all too well.

After a tense moment, Nami placed her beer down and forced a casual look. “Uh, who’s ready for another drink? My treat.”

Zoro grunted in approval, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “My favorite kind of drink.”

Y/N nodded with a smile, “Can’t say no to that.”

With that, Nami swiftly stood up and headed to the bar, leaving the trio behind at the table. The moment she was out of earshot, Usopp leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a whisper as he said, “She’s hiding something.”

Y/N chuckled softly, tipping back the last of her beer. She set the empty glass down with a gentle clink and met Usopp’s wide-eyed gaze with a knowing look.

“Aren’t we all?” she replied, her tone light but laced with truth.

Zoro glanced at her but said nothing, his expression unreadable as he took another sip of his beer.

Suddenly, Y/N felt two strong hands grab her from behind, lifting her right out of her chair with a jolt. Her heart nearly skipped a beat, but the instinct to panic vanished as soon as she recognized the culprit. Only one person would do something so ridiculous.

“But look at you!!” Ren exclaimed, his voice booming with excitement as he hugged her tightly and started walking away from the table, carrying her like a sack of potatoes.

Y/N groaned but couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her.

“Ren, put me down!” she demanded, half-laughing, half-protesting.

When he finally set her down, Y/N turned and froze, her eyes lighting up as she saw Tallen, Lyan, and Kiku standing nearby, all grinning from ear to ear.

For a moment, she just stared at them, taking it all in—the familiar faces, the warmth in their smiles, the wave of nostalgia and relief that washed over her. Then, without hesitation, she let out a shriek of pure joy and jumped forward, wrapping them in a tight hug.

“Oh gods, I can’t believe this!” she exclaimed, her voice cracking slightly from the overwhelming emotion. Hugging them again felt like coming home, like a missing piece of herself had been returned. The weight of everything she’d been carrying seemed to lift, if only for a moment.

They laughed as they hugged her back, each one holding her tightly as if to make up for lost time. Tallen stood to the side, his arms crossed and a big grin plastered across his face as he watched the reunion.

“I told you she’d be here,” Tallen said smugly, glancing at the others.

Y/N pulled back slightly, her hands still on Kiku's and Lyan’s shoulders, her smile wide and genuine. “Gods, I miss you all."

“We missed you more!” Ren grinned, squeezing her back tightly.

Kiku laughed softly, her voice warm. “We thought we’d never see you again.”

Lyan, ever the quiet one, simply smiled, his eyes crinkling with the emotion he didn’t need to say out loud.

"Tallen told us you’ll be playing with us tonight…" Kiku said, her voice lilting with both curiosity and excitement as she looked at Y/N with a hopeful smile.

Y/N blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before arching an eyebrow at Tallen, who was standing nearby, grinning like he’d just pulled off the biggest scheme of the century.

“Did he now?” Y/N asked, her tone teasing as she folded her arms, giving Tallen a mock glare. "Funny, because Tallen didn’t ask me about that.”

Tallen chuckled, holding up his hands defensively. “Come on, Y/N, it’s just like old times! One night, one set—think of it as a reunion gig.”

“A reunion gig?” Y/N repeated, raising both eyebrows now. “You mean the kind where you spring it on me last second and I have no time to prepare?”

“Oh, please,” Ren chimed in, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “You could do this in your sleep. You’re Y/N—you’re never not ready.”

She sighed, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile as she crossed her arms. “You guys really don’t give me a choice, do you?”

“Not even a little,” Lyan chimed in with a laugh, nudging her playfully. “Come on, Y/N. It’ll be just like old times.”

Kiku clasped her hands together, her smile widening. “We’ve missed this, and we’ve missed you.”

Y/N sighed, looking around at their expectant faces, her faux-annoyance melting into a small smile.

“You all are impossible, you know that?” she said, shaking her head. “Fine. But only because I am amazing and don’t need prep time.”

The group burst into cheers, Kiku clapping her hands in delight. “I knew you wouldn’t say no!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said, waving them off but unable to keep the grin off her face. “But don’t blame me if I upstage all of you tonight.”

Tallen smirked. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

After a few drinks—just enough for Y/N to feel a pleasant buzz warming her cheeks—and some planning for tonight's performance, the nostalgia began to creep in. The laughter, the easy camaraderie of old friends… it felt like slipping back into a part of herself she hadn’t touched in a long time.

Soon, the time for the show finally came. Excusing herself with a grin, Y/N made her way to the Going Merry to grab her guitar. When she returned, the bar was alive with excitement, the anticipation practically crackling in the air.

Tallen, ever the showman, was already commanding the attention of the crowd with his infectious energy and booming voice. He stood center of the makeshift stage, Den Den Mushi in hand, hyping up the room like a seasoned entertainer. When his eyes landed on Y/N stepping into view, he broke into a wide grin, his charisma cranked up to full volume.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Pirates, sailors, and scallywags alike!” he called out, his voice booming through the Den Den Mushi. “Prepare yourselves for a treat like no other! She’s sailed with the best, dazzled the rest, and left a trail of awestruck audiences in her wake! The one, the only, the songbird of the seas—give it up for Y/N!”

The audience erupted into whistles, cheers, and applause as Tallen stepped aside, his grin as wide as ever while he gestured grandly for her to take the stage. Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes with a playful laugh, shaking her head at his theatrics. Adjusting the strap of her guitar, she made her way to the centre of the stage with a light skip to her step and a twist that made her skirt flare just slightly, adding her own bit of signature flair to the entrance.

Her smile widened as she took in the energy of the crowd, the cheers lifting her spirits even higher. She gave a mock curtsy, her guitar still slung across her shoulder and leaned into the Den Den with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Alright, alright,” she said, her voice warm but teasing as the applause began to settle. “No need to go overboard—Tallen already made me sound like I’m the second coming of Gold Roger.”

The audience chuckled, and Tallen shot her wink. "Just saying it as I see it, my dear."

“Alright, folks, let me be honest with you—Tallen hyped me up so much that even I’m starting to wonder if I’m actually that good,” Y/N said, grinning. “But hey, if I mess up, just remember—you paid for the drinks, not the talent.”

She let the crowd laugh again, her timing impeccable as she adjusted her guitar. “But in all seriousness, thank you for having me tonight. I don’t usually play in restaurants shaped like fish—it’s a very niche market—but hey, there’s a first for everything.”

A few people cheered in agreement, and Y/N gave a casual shrug. “Now, let’s get to the part where I make you forget how much you spent on tonight’s drinks. If I pull that off, I’m expecting a hefty tip.”

The crowd roared with laughter, and Y/N’s smile widened as her fingers brushed the strings lightly in preparation. “Alright, enough chatter. You’ve got drinks in hand, I’ve got a guitar, and we’ve got a whole night ahead of us. Let’s make it count.”

The performance began with Y/N leading the charge, her guitar striking bright, rhythmic chords that immediately set an upbeat tone. Lyan joined in, the lively jingle of his tambourine adding a playful, danceable cadence. The two played off each other seamlessly, their chemistry sparking an infectious energy that had the crowd tapping their feet.

With a quick nod from Y/N, the rest of the group jumped in. Tallen’s mandolin brought a sharp, vibrant melody, Ren’s drums added a driving, steady beat, and Kiku’s violin soared with a celebratory tone that tied everything together. The room came alive as the music burst into full swing, blending into a rich, layered sound.

The energy in the room shifted, the crowd coming alive with movement as the song picked up speed.

"I thought this path was ours to tread, But now it feels like we’ve been misled, Walking this lonely, lonely, endless shore. Your reasons crash like waves at sea, Still, here you are, still here with me, On this lonely, lonely, endless shore."

When the chorus hit, the energy exploded. The band’s instruments blended into a dynamic symphony, each member adding their unique flair. The crowd clapped along, swept up in the fast-paced rhythm. Y/N almost laughed mid-strum when her eyes landed on a drunk Usopp, who had claimed a tiny patch of open floor as his personal dance stage. With exaggerated movements and questionable rhythm, he twirled and stomped.

"If I follow you to the blue, And let my heart drift back to you, Will you stay with me forever, Or disappear like fading beams? If I give my soul to the restless tide, And let its rhythm be our guide, Will it hold us close together, Or wash away our dreams?"

As the band transitioned into the second verse, the room buzzed with vibrant energy. Y/N’s voice carried the emotional weight of the lyrics, weaving effortlessly into the lively rhythm of the instruments. The crowd was fully engaged—some clapped along, others swayed to the music and a few near the bar cheered, their laughter mingling with the lively tune. Even the more reserved patrons couldn’t resist tapping their feet or nodding along.

"You chose a path I couldn’t take, Now here we stand, the ground could break, Walking this lonely, lonely, endless shore.

Take my hand, don’t let it fall, Where does it end, if anywhere at all, Walking this lonely, lonely, endless shore."

The band played with seamless harmony—Y/N’s steady guitar leading, Kiku’s violin soaring, Ren’s drums driving the rhythm, and Tallen’s mandolin adding a playful melody, all tied together by Lyan’s tambourine. The crowd fed off their energy, with a few pirates dancing along with Usopp, turning a small patch of the floor into thier personal, chaotic dance stage.

Y/N caught herself smiling as she glanced over at her friends. Nami was bopping her head in time with the rhythm, a grin spread across her face as if she couldn’t help but get caught up in the energy of the song. Zoro, ever the stoic one, sat back with his usual indifference, but Y/N noticed the slight tap of his foot in time with the beat, betraying his enjoyment. Her fingers moved fluidly over the strings, effortlessly keeping pace with the upbeat rhythm, her smile widening as the song carried on to the last verse.

"I’m just a shadow in your light, A fleeting trace in the starless night. The ocean holds your broken vow, A love you couldn’t cherish now. I know, I know, it’s hard to bear, I lost you here, it’s just not fair. I know, I know, the tide won’t stay, It sweeps our dreams, it pulls away. I know, I know, it’s all too real, I lost you here, I’ll never heal."

With one final strum of the guitar and a unified flourish from the band, the music ended in a crescendo, leaving the crowd cheering, whistling, and stomping their approval. The energy in the room was electric, the upbeat ending turning what could have been a somber farewell into a celebration of persistence, love, and life’s tides.

Y/N laughed breathlessly, taking a small bow as the applause roared around her. Turning to her bandmates, she exchanged a wide grin with them, all of them clearly riding the high of the performance.

“Alright, drinks on you guys, yeah?” Y/N teased, her voice light and playful, carrying easily over the cheers and laughter that filled the room.

Tallen, grinned as he turned to her, his hand dramatically pressed over his heart.

“Oh, sweet Y/N,” Tallen said, his tone dripping with mock sincerity, the perfect blend of theatrical and heartfelt, “just one more ballad, yeah? Promise.”

“Oh, I don’t know, T." Y/N tilted her head, leaning back slightly as if the weight of his words was just too much to bear. "Carrying this whole show on my back is exhausting, you know.”

The crowd laughed, and Tallen didn’t miss a beat. He turned sharply to face the audience, his charisma cranked up to full volume, arms spread wide like a ringmaster addressing his adoring crowd.

“Come on, folks,” he called out, his grin dazzling and infectious. “Don’t you want to hear more? You’re not tired of her yet, are you?”

The room erupted with a thunderous cheer, whistles and applause filling the air as people shouted their agreement. Y/N raised an eyebrow, glancing at Tallen with a playful smirk as the crowd roared around them.

Leaning toward the Den Den, she gave him a mock glare, her voice dripping with teasing charm. “You really are shameless, aren’t you? Riding my coattails like this,”

Tallen shrugged dramatically, his grin widening. “What can I say? They love you, darling. I’m just the hype man making sure the masses get what they want.”

“And here I thought I was the show-off,” Her grin widened as she addressed the laughing audience, her tone light but commanding, filled with charm.

“Alright, alright, you win. Let’s give them something they’ll be singing in their sleep.” She threw Tallen a cheeky glance. “And don’t think you’re off the hook, T. I’m watching you.”

With that, the band launched into the next song, the instruments bursting to life in perfect harmony. The room came alive once more, and the audience swept up in the rhythm, completely enthralled by the magic of the performance.

Soon, the show came to an end, much to Y/N’s dismay. The applause was deafening as she strummed the final chord, giving the crowd one last radiant smile and a playful wave. “You’ve been amazing—don’t forget to tip your bartenders!” she called, earning another round of laughter and cheers before stepping down from the stage.

She was immediately met by a wave of smiling patrons, each vying for a moment of her time. Compliments poured in, one after another—people singing her praises, declaring her the highlight of their night. Some handed her Berry as tokens of appreciation, while others offered bottles of liquor, which she accepted with a bright grin and a playful “You sure know how to spoil a girl.” A few even declared their undying love, and Y/N laughed, placing a hand over her heart. “Flattered, truly. I’ll consider proposals after my second bottle.”

Her natural charm and ease kept the interactions lively, but eventually, she managed to slip away, the bottle of rum in her hand clinking softly as she met up with Tallen. Together, they wandered off to a quieter, more secluded part of the fish-ship, near the docks. The sounds of the lively restaurant faded into the background as they sat down at the edge, letting their feet dangle over the water.

“Been too long,” Tallen said, breaking the silence as he gazed out over the gently rippling water.

Y/N nodded, her fingers idly tapping the neck of the bottle. “Yeah, it has. I missed this. Missed you.”

He grinned, though it was softer than his usual showmanship, the kind of smile that reached his eyes. “You’ve done good, you know. I can tell.”

She laughed lightly, leaning back on her hands. “Still figuring it out. You know me—one chaotic day at a time, which these days seems more often than not.”

Tallen smirks in curiosity, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Earlier today, you saw the people I was with, well..."

They passed the bottle back and forth, the hum of the distant crowd fading into the background as they talked. This wasn’t the idle chatter from before—it was real, honest catching up, the kind of conversation only old friends could have. They laughed about shared memories, exchanged stories of where they’d been, and filled in the gaps that time and distance had left.

Y/N leaned back on her hands, staring up at the stars as Tallen told her a particularly ridiculous story about his recent travels. She laughed, the sound light and genuine, and nudged his shoulder with her own.

“You’re still as full of it as ever,” she teased, though her eyes gleamed with fondness.

“And you’re still the queen of stealing the spotlight,” Tallen retorted, taking another swig of rum and shooting her a teasing grin. “But damn, it’s good to see you out here again. Just like old times.”

Y/N chuckled softly, her fingers brushing the edge of the dock as her gaze drifted to the water.

“Yeah,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “It’s good to see you too.”

For a moment, they let the silence settle between them, the kind of peaceful, unspoken understanding that only old friends could share. The gentle lapping of the waves against the ship filled the spaces between their breaths, and for a brief while, the weight of the past and the uncertainties of the future didn’t matter.

But, of course, Tallen couldn’t leave it there.

“So,” he began, his tone mischievous as always, “tell me… what happened with that boy? The one you left us for? You know, the one who made you think settling down was a good idea, all doe-eyed and dreamy?

The question hit her like a splash of cold water. Memories rushed back, unbidden, vivid and sharp. That boy. The boy. She could still see his face, hear his laugh, and feel how easy it had been to let her guard down with him. And she remembered just as vividly how that had been her downfall. The trust she’d given so freely, the love she’d thought was unshakable—it had all come apart like a house of cards in a storm.

She didn’t respond right away, instead reaching for the bottle of rum and taking a long swig, letting the burn of the alcohol drown out the ache that wanted to settle in her chest. Only when she’d numbed it enough did she hand the bottle back to Tallen.

“He was a pirate,” she said simply, her voice steady but laced with a bitterness she couldn’t quite hide.

Tallen took the bottle from her, his brow furrowing slightly as he took his own drink. He let the silence hang for a beat before muttering, “Fucking pirates.”

Y/N let out a soft, humorless laugh, her lips quirking upward just slightly. “Yeah. Fucking Pirates.”

The two fell quiet again, the weight of her words settling between them. Tallen didn’t press further—he didn’t need to. They both knew there were some stories better left in the past, especially on a night like this...

Y/N kept her gaze fixed on the water as it slipped and swirled around her feet, her toes wiggling absently in the cool waves. A quiet sigh escaped her as her thoughts drifted to a time when seeing her toes had been a rare occurrence—back when she didn’t need feet at all. The memory tugged at her, bittersweet and heavy.

“Do you ever miss… swimming?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a subtle edge, as though the question itself might shatter the fragile peace of the moment. But that wasn’t really what she wanted to ask. What she meant to say was, Do you ever miss your tail?

Tallen glanced at her, the unspoken meaning behind her words not lost on him. His fingers idly traced the rim of the bottle, his eyes flickered to the water. He didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, the ever-present charm and humor he wore like armor fell away, revealing something quieter, something raw.

“Of course I do,” he said at last, his voice low but steady. “It’s part of who I am. No matter how much I try to forget it—or hide it. I miss it every damn day.”

The words hit Y/N harder than she expected, though they echoed her own thoughts. She nodded faintly, her fingers brushing the edge of the dock as if trying to touch the memories she’d buried beneath the waves.

“Sometimes, I dream about it,” she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. “The feeling of the current, the water rushing past me. It’s like… I can still feel it, but when I wake up, it’s gone. And I realize it’s been gone for a long time.”

Tallen let out a low sigh, opening another bottle and taking a gulp before setting it down between them.

“We didn’t have a choice,” he said, his voice heavier now, laced with something darker. “They left us no choice. Staying in the water… staying as we were… it was a death sentence. Out here, at least, we have a chance. Even if it’s not the life we wanted.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tightening as memories surged forward—the fear, the endless swimming, the loss of those who couldn’t escape. The oceans, once their sanctuary, had become a hunting ground, a place where survival meant running and hiding. Becoming human hadn’t been freedom; it had been desperation.

“I hate it sometimes,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I hate that we had to choose this... to give up what we were just to live. I hate that I don’t feel safe, not here, not in the water. Nowhere.”

Tallen’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand resting gently on hers. “We didn’t choose this, Y/N. I know it's not the life we knew, but it’s a life we can make ours. Even if we have to fight for it every step of the way.”

Y/N took another long drink from the bottle, letting the burn of the rum cut through the ache in her chest. She handed it back to him with a faint, tired smile. “It’s not fair,”

“No, it’s not,” Tallen agreed quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness he rarely let show. “But we’re still here. They didn’t get us. And as long as we’re still breathing, there’s a chance. Maybe not now, maybe not soon, but one day… one day, we’ll stop running.”

Y/N let his words sink in, her toes wiggling again as if testing the water beneath them. She wanted to believe him, to believe there was a day when the fear would fade and they could slip back into the waves without a second thought.

The two bottles of rum were emptied far too quickly, its warmth fading as the night deepened. The distant hum of the restaurant voices grew softer, replaced by the gentle sound of the waves lapping against the ship. The world seemed quieter, heavier, as though the night itself was reluctant to let them go.

Y/N let her feet dip deeper into the water, as if the sea itself could somehow anchor her to this moment, to Tallen, to the sense of familiarity and belonging she always felt in his presence. But reality was already creeping back in, tugging at the edges of her mind.

Tallen stretched his legs, giving the empty bottle a casual toss to the side of the dock, his usual bravado masking the heaviness in the air. “

Guess that’s it, huh?” he said, his tone light, but his eyes betrayed the same reluctance she felt.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied softly, her gaze fixed on the water below. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to face the inevitability of parting ways again. But she knew she couldn’t stay. Neither of them could. “Out of rum, out of time,”

They sat there for a moment longer, both pretending they didn’t know what was coming next. But the truth was impossible to ignore. This wasn’t just a goodbye—it was a question they’d both have to carry if fate allowed them another meeting: Are they still alive?

Tallen finally stood, brushing his hands on his pants before offering one to Y/N to help her up.

“Guess we should leave it here,” he said, his voice steady but strained. “For now.”

Y/N took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. She met his gaze, her own eyes shining with unspoken words.

“For now,” she echoed softly, her lips quirking into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a brief, tight hug. “Take care of yourself, alright?” he said, his tone firm, almost commanding. “And don’t get into too much trouble.”

Y/N chuckled weakly, patting his chest as she pulled back. “You know me. Trouble follows, I just try to be faster.”

Tallen smirked, but it faded quickly. He hesitated for a moment, then turned toward the docks, his footsteps heavy as he began to walk away. Y/N stayed behind, watching his silhouette disappear into the shadows of the fish-ship.

She took a deep breath, letting the sea air fill her lungs, then exhaled slowly. The weight of the question lingered in her chest as she turned back toward the Going Merry. She didn’t know when—or if—she’d see him again. But for now, she had to keep moving. Because life didn’t allow for anything else.

Sirens, as creatures of the sea, naturally possess a higher tolerance for alcohol compared to humans. Their bodies, adapted to handle the intoxicating effects of fermented underwater plants and other potent marine brews, metabolize alcohol far more efficiently. That said, even a Siren wasn’t immune to the occasional tipsy stumble after two entire bottles of rum.

Y/N didn’t realize how tipsy she actually was until she began her walk back to the Going Merry, her steps wobbling as if the ground beneath her were swaying like the ocean waves. Each step was a battle to steady herself, but instead of frustration, she giggled to herself and began humming a tune, one she hadn’t even realized she’d made up on the spot.

By some miracle (or sheer luck), she managed to make it to the Going Merry without falling into the water.

“Absolutely magnifico!” she declared with a dramatic flourish as she boarded the ship.

With a triumphant grin, Y/N made her way inside, her mind now fixated on finding something sweet to snack on. Her thoughts were a delightful jumble of candy, cookies, and maybe even fruit if it was sugary enough. But before she could raid the pantry, she collided headlong into Nami, who looked positively furious.

“Woah! You okay, pumpkin?” Y/N slurred, placing a hand on Nami’s arm with a warm, lopsided smile.

Nami shoved her hand off, glaring at her with a sharpness that sobered Y/N just slightly. “Where the hell were you, Y/N?”

Blinking in surprise, Y/N tilted her head, her hazy mind trying to process the sudden shift in tone. “I… uh… wait, what happened?”

Nami’s glare intensified, her voice rising with frustration. “What happened is that Zoro is a massive idiot and is going to get himself killed!”

Before Y/N could fully process what Nami had just said, the navigator spun on her heel and stormed off, her footsteps echoing down the hall as she headed to her room.

Y/N stood there, swaying slightly as she tried to make sense of what she’d just heard.

“What…?” she muttered to herself, her voice tinged with confusion as she rubbed her temple. “What did I miss now?”

Y/N made her way into the kitchen, her footsteps lighter than usual thanks to her still tipsy state. The room was quieter than expected, and as her eyes adjusted, she took in the scene: a not-so-smiley Luffy—weird— Usopp, drunk yet clearly worried. And then there was the star of the night—Zoro—calmly cleaning his swords at the table, his expression as unreadable as ever.

As she walked in, all eyes turned to her. Well, almost all eyes. Luffy and Usopp looked at her directly, but Zoro merely spared her a quick glance before returning to polishing one of his blades.

“Y/N—” Luffy began, his voice unusually low, but she cut him off before he could finish.

“What’s this I heard about you getting yourself killed, hotshot?” she asked, her tone a mix of teasing and genuine curiosity as she made her way to the pantry, her mission for something sweet still very much a priority.

For a moment, the kitchen was silent, save for the faint sound of Zoro’s whetstone sliding against his sword. And then, as if it were nothing more than casual conversation, Zoro answered, his tone calm and steady: “I challenged Dracule Mihawk to a duel to the death. I’ll defeat him and become the greatest swordsman in the world.”

Y/N froze mid-reach, her hand hovering over a jar of honey. Slowly, she turned her head toward him, blinking as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just heard. That name—Dracule Mihawk—was familiar. Too familiar. The kind of name you didn’t just forget. Wasn’t he…? No, it couldn’t be. She must’ve heard wrong. Surely, she must have.

So, she laughed. A loud, disbelieving tipsy laugh, grinning as though he’d just told her the best joke of the year.

“Oh, that’s funny,” she said, straightening up and giving Zoro a bemused grin. “For a second there, I thought you said Dracule Mihawk. You know, the Mihawk, Warlord of the Sea."

Zoro didn’t even flinch. He continued cleaning his sword, his face completely devoid of humor as he replied, “Yeah, that one.”

Y/N continued to chuckle, shaking her head as she pulled the jar of honey from the pantry. “No, it’s not,”

“It is,” Usopp mumbled, his words slurred with worry.

Y/N stopped mid-motion, the jar of honey held loosely in her hands. She blinked, her tipsy mind still not fully processing the weight of the situation. Turning to Zoro, she found him looking at her, his expression unreadable, saying nothing. That, more than anything, made her stomach tighten.

With a sharp exhale, she marched to the table and all but slapped the jar of honey down, the sound sharp enough to make Usopp flinch. In that single second, the remnants of her drunken haze evaporated. Sobriety hit her like a wave, and her playful grin was gone.

She stared at Zoro with a hard, unyielding glare, the kind that could cut through stone.

“You’re joking,” she said flatly, her voice carrying the kind of edge that dared him to confirm her hopes. When he didn’t respond, her eyes narrowed as she took a step closer. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, Zoro.”

Luffy, of all people, chimed in, his tone oddly serious—too serious for someone who is usually a ray of walking sunshine.

Y/N blinked, looking between Luffy and Zoro, trying to wrap her head around what was being said.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she started, raising a hand as if trying to stop the flood of insanity pouring into the room. “You’re telling me you actually challenged Dracule Mihawk? As in the Warlord of the Sea? The guy who could probably split this fucking sodding ship in half just for fun?”

Zoro glanced up at her briefly, his gaze calm but resolute.

“It’s what I have to do,” he said simply, his tone devoid of fear or hesitation. “If I want to be the greatest swordsman in the world, I have to beat him. That’s the only way.”

Y/N stared at him in stunned silence, her lips parted as she tried to find the words. Her anger faltered for a moment, replaced by something deeper—concern, frustration, maybe even fear.

“Zoro, you can’t just—” she started, but her voice faltered. She straightened up, running a hand through her hair as she stepped back. Her gaze flicked to Luffy and Usopp, searching for some semblance of support. Luffy, however, remained silent, his eyes distant, while Usopp looked sick.

Finally, Y/N let out a frustrated laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Unbelievable. You’re all just going to let him go through with this? No one’s going to stop him?”

“Can’t stop him,” Luffy said simply, his tone carrying a note of quiet acceptance. “This is his dream.”

Y/N’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she stared at Zoro again, disbelief and frustration radiating off her in waves. She couldn’t wrap her head around it. As someone who had always fought tooth and nail for survival, it was utterly maddening to see someone willingly dive headfirst into danger like this.

“Zoro, please,” she said, her tone softer now, though the tension in her voice was clear. “Think about it for a second. I know you want this—I know how much it means to you—but this is insane. You’re already an amazing swordsman—”

“But not the best,” Zoro interrupted, his voice calm but resolute. His focus on his blade never wavered as he continued polishing it. “Not yet. Not until I defeat Mihawk.”

Y/N blinked, her chest tightening as his words sank in. She shook her head in disbelief, her voice rising slightly as she took a step closer. “Are you seriously so willing to throw your life away over a title? Is that all this is to you? Just a damn title?”

Zoro finally looked up, his gaze meeting hers with unyielding determination. “It’s not just a title. It’s everything I’ve trained for. Everything I’ve worked for. If I don’t take this chance, then what’s the point?”

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She searched his expression for any hint of hesitation, of doubt, but found none. He wasn’t going to change his mind. She knew that, even before she asked.

“You’re... not changing your mind, are you?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost defeated.

“You already know the answer to that,” Zoro replied simply.

“Fine,” she said, her voice cold and clipped, her tone like a sharp edge. "Go get yourself fucked up."

Zoro didn’t flinch, his focus already back on his blade. “Noted,”

Y/N scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as she grabbed the jar of honey. She cast one last glare at the back of Zoro’s head, her frustration boiling just beneath the surface, before spinning on her heel and leaving the room without another word.

The jar of honey felt heavier in her hand than it should have, and as she made her way back to her corner of the ship, she couldn’t help but mutter under her breath, “Unbelievable. Reckless, stubborn fool...”

But no matter how angry she was, a part of her couldn’t shake the worry that gnawed at the edges of her mind. As much as she hated to admit it, she cared. And that made this all the more infuriating.

Hours passed, the tension on the Going Merry as thick as the salty sea air around it. Y/N had spent most of that time pacing, her nerves fraying with every passing minute. And now, much to her growing nervousness—and, if she were honest with herself, outright unhappiness—she found herself walking alongside Zoro to the docks of the Baratie with Luffy and Usopp, Nami was nowhere to be found and Y/N had no mind for that the moment.

The swordsman, as usual, was calm and steady, his expression unreadable, as if he were merely heading to run a simple errand rather than walking straight into a duel with one of the most dangerous men alive. Y/N, on the other hand, was barely keeping it together. Despite her earlier words, despite knowing Zoro’s mind was set, she couldn’t help herself.

“Zoro,” she said, her tone tinged with desperation, as she hurried to match his stride. “This doesn’t have to be today, you know. You could wait. Train more. Build yourself up first. Mihawk’s not going anywhere—he’ll still be terrifying tomorrow, or next week, or next year!”

“I’ve waited long enough,” he said simply, his tone steady and resolute.

Y/N groaned, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’re impossible! You know that, right? Utterly impossible. It’s like you’ve got a death wish baked into that stubborn head of yours.”

He didn’t respond, his focus already ahead, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of one of his swords. His silence only fueled her exasperation.

“Zoro, listen,” she pressed, her voice softer now as she stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. “You have nothing to prove. Not to me, not to the crew, not to anyone. You’re already one of the best I’ve ever seen—no one would blame you for waiting until the odds were... I don’t know, less suicidal?”

Zoro looked down at her, his dark eyes meeting hers, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his gaze. But it wasn’t doubt or hesitation—it was determination, pure and unwavering.

“I didn’t come this far to stop now,” he said firmly. “If I can’t face him, then I don’t deserve to be the best.”

Y/N stared at him, her mouth opening to argue, but the words caught in her throat. What could she say to that? What could she say to someone who was so determined to chase their dream, even if it killed them?

Y/N rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as they reached the docks. The sight of the Baratie's empty deck and the looming presence of the infamous Dracule Mihawk in the distance made her stomach twist. She didn’t say anything else as they walked, but the tension in her chest only grew heavier with every step.

"Monkey D. Luffy," Mihawk drawled, his deep voice carrying easily over the sound of the waves. Y/N blinked in surprise, her gaze shifting to the warlord as he kept his piercing eyes locked on the boy. She followed Mihawk's line of sight, landing on Luffy, who—of course—was smiling. Smiling? Y/N thought in disbelief. She could never understand him. If a Warlord of the Sea so much as glanced in her direction, she’d have been halfway across the ocean by now.

“I’m surprised the Marines would require my services for such a small package,” Mihawk continued, his tone tinged with a subtle mockery that sent chills down Y/N’s spine. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes lingering on the Straw Hat. “Though I do like your hat…”

“Enough,” Zoro cut him off, his voice steady as he stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the warlord with unwavering resolve. “Let’s begin.”

Y/N gulped, her stomach twisting into knots as she watched Mihawk calmly remove the cross-shaped pendant from around his neck. For a moment, she was confused—was this some kind of pre-duel ritual?—but her confusion turned to disbelief when the man revealed the pendant to be a hidden blade. A tiny hidden blade.

Mihawk pulled the long part free, revealing a small knife, barely larger than a dagger. Y/N’s jaw nearly dropped. What the hell was that? She wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“What is that? I’m here for a sword fight,” Zoro deadpanned, his tone flat but edged with disbelief as he took in the Warlord’s weapon.

Mihawk didn’t flinch, his expression unreadable save for the faintest glint of amusement in his golden eyes.

“I don’t hunt rabbits with a cannon,” he replied almost mockingly, holding the tiny blade with an air of casual confidence.

Zoro, however, remained unshaken. He pulled out his two swords, their blades gleaming in the sunlight as he took a defensive stance. His voice was steady, firm, and filled with resolve. “I’m no rabbit.���

Mihawk pointed his small blade at Zoro, the move almost lazy in its precision. “That remains to be seen,” he said smoothly.

The tension between them hung thick in the air, a moment so charged that Y/N felt like she could hardly breathe. The world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them, predator and challenger, locked in an unspoken battle of wills before a single strike had even been made.

And then, Zoro moved.

With a burst of speed, he ran straight toward the Warlord, his swords raised and his expression fierce with determination. The fight had begun.

The fight was a blur for Y/N, but one thing was painfully clear—Mihawk had the upper hand from the very start. Every move Zoro made was effortlessly countered, every strike easily dodged or deflected as though the Warlord was swatting away a pesky fly.

Y/N’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a shriek when Mihawk drove the small dagger into Zoro’s chest. Her fingers dug into Luffy’s arm as she squeezed tightly, her own breath catching at the sheer ruthlessness of the moment. When Mihawk finally unsheathed his massive blade, Yoru, Y/N grimaced, her stomach twisting with dread.

And then, as Zoro’s swords crumbled under the sheer power of Mihawk’s strike, Y/N couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her lips. Her eyes widened in shock as Zoro, instead of backing down, willingly let himself be slashed across the chest, standing tall even in defeat. The scene left her frozen, torn between awe at his resolve and fear for his life.

"Zoro!" Luffy shouted, his voice raw with emotion as the green-haired swordsman collapsed to the ground.

Without a second thought, Y/N bolted toward him, her heart pounding in her chest. She dropped to her knees beside Zoro, her hands hovering over him, unsure of where to even start.

There it was—a massive, long, bloodied slash stretching across his chest, from one shoulder to the opposite side. The sight of it made her stomach drop. Her breath hitched as she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

"Oh, shit… Zoro," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her own heart.

Monkey D. Luffy," Mihawk called out, his voice laced with a faint trace of curiosity. His sharp gaze settled on the boy, as if measuring him. "What’s your goal?"

"I’m going to become the King of the Pirates," Luffy replied, his tone uncharacteristically serious, his eyes unwavering.

"King of the Pirates, hmm?" Mihawk repeated, a flicker of intrigue crossing his otherwise stoic expression. "That’s a far more perilous path than even defeating me."

Luffy didn’t flinch. Instead, he turned to glare at the Warlord, his resolve shining through. "I don’t care," he said firmly. "It’s what I’m going to do."

Mihawk regarded him in silence for a moment, as though he were assessing something beyond words. Then, with a faint hum of approval, he nodded slightly.

"Maybe you will at that," he said, his tone carrying an unusual note of respect, "This world could use a few more wild cards."

Mihawk turned his piercing gaze away from Luffy, letting it fall to the green-haired swordsman lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. “Roronoa Zoro,” he said, his voice calm but commanding. “It’s too soon for you to die. Grow strong and come find me. I’ll be waiting.”

With that, and much to Y/N’s immense relief, Dracule Mihawk turned and walked away, disappearing into the distance.

Usopp hurried to kneel next to Y/N and Luffy, his face pale as he took in the sheer amount of blood pouring from Zoro’s chest.

“He’s losing so much blood,” Usopp said, his voice shaking with panic.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Luffy said firmly, though the determination in his voice couldn’t quite mask the crack of worry underneath.

“Hey, Zoro,” Y/N leaned closer, her voice trembling but insistent as she gently touched his cheek. “Can you hear me? Come on, hotshot, don’t do this.”

Luffy’s voice was softer now, he was smiling but his voice was filled with quiet resolve. “He said it’s too soon for you to die."

Zoro, lying in a pool of his own blood, let out a groan, his voice strained and heavy with pain. Every word sounded like it hurt to speak, but still, he forced them out. "Luffy... if I fail to become the world’s greatest swordsman… you’ll be disappointed. Right?"

Luffy immediately shook his head, his voice firm and unwavering. "You could never fail me,"

"Never… again. From now… until I beat him…" Summoning his last reserves of energy, Zoro gritted his teeth and unsheathed Wado Ichimonji, the sword trembling in his bloodied hand. He raised it weakly, his arm barely steady. "To become the greatest swordsman… I will never lose again!"

Y/N pursed her lips, worry etched into every line of her face as she watched Zoro’s arm falter. The sword slipped from his grip, clattering to the ground as his body went limp. He was out.

"Zoro?" Luffy’s voice broke slightly as he leaned closer, shaking the unconscious swordsman. "Zoro?! Zoro!"

"Luffy, stop!" Y/N grabbed Luffy’s arm, her voice sharp but tinged with worry. Her grip was firm, her eyes locking onto his with a quiet urgency. "Shaking him won’t help."

Luffy froze, his hands trembling as he pulled back slightly. Y/N turned to Nami, who was hovering just behind them, her face pale with concern and her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"We need to get him inside," Y/N said, her tone steady but urgent as she glanced between Nami, Usopp and Luffy. She pressed her lips together, her mind racing. "Now!"

They all nodded quickly, their hands moving instinctively to help as they began the careful process of lifting Zoro, doing everything they could to keep him stable. The tension in the air was palpable, but Y/N’s focus remained on the task at hand, suppressing the storm of worry swirling in her chest.

They couldn’t lose him. Not here. Not like this.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Lots of love. Be safe.

Also, tell me if you want to get tagged.

Divider by @cafekitsune

Tags: @weirdowithaphone

[pankowcrumbs]

Snowfall X Drew Starkey (requested)

The cabin was eerily quiet, the silence broken only by the soft crackle of the fireplace. Snowflakes cascaded outside the large windows in mesmerizing spirals, piling up in a thick, pristine blanket that seemed to swallow the world whole.

I glanced toward the front door, a faint huff escaping my lips. The group had left an hour ago to explore the nearby town, bundled up in layers of wool and waterproof jackets. Drew and I had stayed behind—me, nursing the sniffles from the cold wind, and Drew, claiming he wanted to keep me company.

“You sure you’re not just using me as an excuse to avoid more souvenir shops?” I teased as I wandered into the living room.

Drew grinned from where he lounged on the couch, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. “Guilty,” he admitted with a laugh. “I’ve seen enough ‘I love skiing’ mugs to last a lifetime.”

I chuckled, wrapping my blanket tighter around my shoulders. The heat from the fire was comforting, but a deep chill still lingered in the cabin. “Well, what do we do now? Just sit here and listen to the snow fall?”

He raised a brow. “Bored already?”

“Just trying to avoid dying of monotony.”

Drew’s lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “Alright, then. How about a game? Jenga’s in the cabinet.”

“Jenga?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow. “That’s your big idea?”

“Unless you’re too scared to lose,” he shot back, his blue eyes glinting with challenge.

That was all it took. Ten minutes later, we were sitting cross-legged on the floor, the Jenga tower already wobbling slightly as I carefully slid a block from the middle and placed it on top.

“Not bad,” Drew remarked, his tone light but his focus razor-sharp as he studied the structure. “But you left it unstable. Rookie mistake.”

“Is that so, Mr. Expert?” I shot back, feigning indignation. “We’ll see who’s the rookie when you topple it.”

He responded with a low chuckle and leaned forward, his large hands deftly removing a block with such precision that the tower didn’t even quiver. He added it to the top with a flourish and sat back smugly.

I narrowed my eyes at him, the competitive fire in me sparking to life. “Game on, Starkey.”

Minutes turned into an hour, and the tower grew perilously high. Drew and I traded increasingly ridiculous commentary as we played, the stakes feeling much higher than they actually were.

“Careful, Y/N,” Drew teased as I hesitated over which block to remove. “One wrong move, and—”

“Shh!” I hissed, shooting him a glare. “You’re trying to psych me out!”

“Is it working?” His grin was maddeningly smug.

I huffed and pulled a block free, holding my breath as the tower swayed. But it held. Triumphantly, I placed it on top, my heart pounding in victory.

“Your turn, genius,” I said, unable to keep the smugness from my own voice.

Drew leaned forward, scrutinizing the tower like a chess master planning his next move. His face was so close to mine that I could see the faint stubble on his jaw and catch the fresh, woodsy scent of his cologne. My heart skipped for reasons entirely unrelated to the game.

“You’re nervous,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Admit it.”

“Hardly,” I replied, though my voice betrayed me by faltering just slightly.

He smirked and reached for a block near the bottom. I held my breath, fully expecting the tower to come crashing down. But, somehow, he managed to remove it and place it on top without incident.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Do you have superpowers or something?”

“Just skill, Y/N,” he said with a wink.

The tension between us shifted subtly. The game was still competitive, but there was something else now—a magnetic pull that seemed to draw us closer with every teasing remark, every shared laugh. I couldn’t stop myself from stealing glances at Drew, at the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled or the way his tongue darted out in concentration when he reached for a particularly tricky block.

And then, it happened.

It was Drew’s turn, and he decided to go for a block that was practically glued in place. I watched in a mix of awe and horror as he wiggled it loose, the entire tower leaning precariously. When the block finally came free, the tower gave one final wobble—and collapsed in a spectacular clatter of wood.

“Yes!” I shouted, throwing my hands in the air. “Victory!”

Drew groaned dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, you win. But it was pure luck.”

“Skill,” I corrected, grinning triumphantly. “Admit it—I’m the Jenga master.”

He rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning back on his hands. “Fine. You’re the Jenga master. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” I replied, still riding the high of my win. But as I looked at Drew, sprawled out on the floor with that lopsided smile, my heart gave a little flip. The teasing atmosphere shifted again, the air between us thick with something unspoken.

“You’re something else, you know that?” Drew said softly, his gaze locking with mine.

I swallowed hard, the playful banter replaced by a dizzying rush of heat. “So are you,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

The moment stretched, the crackling fire and the howling wind outside the only sounds. Drew’s eyes flicked to my lips, and suddenly, he was leaning in, closing the space between us.

My breath hitched as his lips brushed mine, tentative at first, then deeper as I leaned into him. The world outside melted away, the snowstorm, the cold, everything forgotten as his hand cupped my cheek, anchoring me to him.

When we finally broke apart, I couldn’t help the shy smile that spread across my face. “So… does this mean I get a rematch?”

Drew laughed, his forehead resting against mine. “If it means I get to kiss you again when you win, then absolutely.”

[recklessracoon]

Something that I draw on when writing Akechi Touma is the experience of losing contact with a friend and really wanting to see them again but knowing that I've mythogized them to such a degree that there's no way the real person would be able to live up to my memory of them.

I also think that Akechi isn't building Kusuo up for his psychic powers (except in as much as getting confirmation of those would be an extremely satisfying answer to his long time questions about the classroom incident) as much as he's building him up as a person who accepted him easily and completely.

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)