#took me almost a month to heal still have scars

[littlebittyhollowbugs]

The return of the text-posts !!!

[annievrse]

It Only Feels This Raw Right Now / Act II

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader  Summary: When your captain, Luffy, tells you to run from Bartholomew Kuma on the Sabaody Archipelago instead of fighting, you end up on a submarine. Takes place during the time skip. W/C: 18.3k C/W: Fic structure: Sabaody Archipelago → Dressrosa spoilers, canon timeline but majority canon-divergent events, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n. Content: descriptions of injuries, blood, passing out, guns + getting shot.

Labyrinth Series Masterlist

— Scene 1 —

In the two months that followed, you learned to draw maps. It wasn’t that you were disappointed; working with Bepo was fun, but when Luffy said Law would be training you, you expected more. 

Luffy had gone through with the plan he vaguely mentioned to you, and seeing him in the newspaper with 3D2Y on his arm made you queasy—he neglected to tell you the part where he went back to Marineford—but you were so insanely proud of him. Since then, you’d heard nothing about him or your crew mates. However, you kept the newspaper folded in your room like your own personal treasure, along with a wanted poster of Law you found in the streets of Sabaody.

After Amazon Lily, the Heart Pirates returned to Sabaody for a few days to prepare for a journey to another island. You refrained from visiting the Sunny—Law warned you that there’d be heavy Marine presence around it, so you kept away from your beloved ship. It wasn’t until you were walking back to the Polar Tang that you saw Law’s poster and thought the photo they used for it was hilarious. It brought back some of the humour you’d been missing from Usopp and Luffy. 

You giggle to yourself. 

“What’s funny?” Bepo asks, his paw paused over the map he is currently working on. “Please don’t tell me you’re laughing at this.” 

“No! No, Bepo,” You laugh. “No, I’m just thinking about something else.” 

“You better be,” He says, dropping the brush on the table. “I’m done.” 

You peer over at the map. A large pawprint smudges the edge of the page, and the handwriting is a little scribbly, but his measurements are accurate, and you nod. “Perfect.” 

Nami’s face flashes through your mind, and instead of feeling upset, like you have been, you smile. “Add the cardinal points to the top corner.”

“Oh!” Bepo blushes, picking up the paintbrush. “Thanks.”

“You done?” 

You turn, seeing Law in the doorway of the boiler room. He raises an eyebrow when neither of you answer. 

“Yep,” Bepo holds up the still-drying map. “Look, captain.” 

“It’s a blob,” Law criticises, squinting at it. 

“It’s Amazon Lily.” 

Law shrugs. “I guess that’s as good as it’ll get, yes?” 

Bepo nods, glancing at you nervously.

“Considering you’re not allowed on the island, I think it's decent,” You say, smiling at Law. 

He doesn’t give you the same reaction. “I need you in the infirmary.” 

You shoot Bepo a glance, and he nods in encouragement. “I’ll be fine.”

Wiping your hands on your pants, you follow him out and up the stairs. The submarine is on its way to a new island in Paradise, and the engine muffles any voices on other floors. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Law doesn’t turn to talk to you. “I want to try something.” 

His words make your stomach drop. Try something? 

You’re almost jogging to keep up with his long strides. “Okay, well, can I know now?”

He sighs, giving you a sidelong glance. You smile widely at him, trying to persuade him, and Law knows he’ll give in. He always does. 

“I want to try your sewing technique on someone.” 

“Like an injury?”

Law nods. “Shachi slipped and split his eyebrow open on the kitchen counter, and I figured it was about time you showed me how you do it. I have yet to see your powers used for that instead of strangling me.”

Your hand brushes your side where your wound was. It took a while, but the gash Kuma gave you has healed nicely. All that’s left is a level scar. 

Scoffing, you bump his bicep with your shoulder. “Dick.”

Law exhales sharply, a humourless laugh that makes you grin with satisfaction. 

“At least I didn’t take your heart. That was fucked up.” 

Law shrugs lazily, taking a sharp left into the infirmary. “I said I was sorry.” 

“You said what?” Shachi exclaims, his eyes wide. There’s a white bandage wrapped around his head, protruding above his left eye where a thicker gauze sits. “I’ve never heard you say sorry, Cap.” 

“First time for everything, Shachi.” Law mumbles, pulling on white latex gloves. He approaches his crew member and removes the bandage. 

You stand to the side, watching with interest as the injury is revealed. It’s a nasty cut, and you cringe when Shachi merely blinks. 

“Not as bad as it looks,” He says when he sees you scrunch your face up. “Doesn’t hurt.” 

You nod, not believing him. 

“She’s going to stitch you up,” Law comments, gesturing to you. “That okay?” 

Shachi tries to raise his other eyebrow, but to no avail. “That’s fine. Just don’t stab my eye out.” 

“I won’t,” You say, walking up to him. Law stands back, eyeing how you position your hands over Shachi’s face. “Ready?”

He nods, wiping his palms on his boiler suit. “Go for it.” 

“Sew.” 

Concentrating, you aim for the first stitch at the end of the cut, your power taking over the rest of the way. It’s easy like this when you have a set path to follow. You glance at Law, who watches you work attentively. His dark eyebrows are furrowed, and you wonder what he’s thinking. 

“I have done this on someone before,” You say. “When Zoro went up against Mihawk, I had to stitch his torso back together.”

“Zoro…” Shachi eyes widen. “As in Roronoa Zoro?”

“Yes, dumbass. How’d that go?”

You shrug. “Procedure was fine.”

Law hums, and you know he knows you’re keeping the aftermath quiet. 

It takes no time for you to finish the stitches, and with a flick of your finger, the open cut has been reduced to a single line, small sutures tied every four millimetres. It’s clean, and you smile at your handiwork.  

“Done,” You exhale, your hands trembling with energy. “Are you okay?”

Shachi beams up at you. “That didn’t hurt one bit. Are you a witch or something?”

You laugh, balling your hands into fists at your sides. Law’s attention has moved to your hands, and you move to hide them. 

“Shachi, get out of here,” Law demands, his gaze focused on you. 

“Yes, captain.” 

You stand idly, anxiety brewing in your stomach as the door clicks shut. 

“You okay?”

You consider him for a moment. His timbre is far more concerned than you expected, and you nod.

He squints at you with suspicion. “You’re not. Your hands are still clenched.” 

You release them immediately, dried blood smeared on your palms. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” He says. “You need to release your power.” 

Shrugging, you sigh and bring your hands up. “I don’t know why it happens.”

Law swallows thickly, studying your palms. “Is that what happened with Zoro?”

You knew he was going to ask. “It was killing me.” 

He nods, mulling something over. “We’re docking at the next island.”

“What? Why?”

“You need to get rid of that energy. Otherwise, it’ll keep building up, and you’ll pass out like you did on Amazon Lily, or worse.” 

You think back—you did use your power to prevent the rocks from falling on both you and Luffy, and there was a copious amount of blood on your hands when you ran back. The blood. When you finished Zoro’s surgery, the blood on your hands was terrifying, yet you hadn’t touched Zoro at all. The blood. 

“You think the blood on my hands comes from me?”

“There’s a possibility,” Law nods. “We’d need to see your power in full force. But I think you’re power is so immense that when you use it in small doses, like stitching someone up, the built-up power that you don’t use has nowhere to go, so it pricks your skin so much that you bleed.”

The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them. “You’re brilliant.” 

Law clears his throat. “I just did more study on Paramica fruits. It’s nothing.” 

You feel your heart skip a beat. “But, you did more study because you noticed the blood on my hands. I would’ve never thought it’d be about the power I don’t use.” 

“It’s my job.”

“You’re stupidly smart, Law,” You laugh, stepping toward the door. “Just take the compliment.” 

Law sighs and turns his back to you. He busies himself with attempting to rearrange the shiny equipment trolley. There’s nothing on it. 

“See you at dinner?” You call from just outside the doorway, a smirk playing on your lips. It’s fun to embarrass him, though he’d never admit it as such. Trafalgar Law doesn’t get embarrassed. 

Law nods before he realises you can’t see him. God, you make him foolish. “Unfortunately.” 

— Scene 2 —

“We’re docking!” 

“Everybody off. This place reeks.” 

The first breath of fresh air after being in the submarine for five days is something you’ll never get used to. You took such a thing for granted on the Sunny, smelling the fresh salty air daily. Now, you treasure it. 

The Heart Pirates file off the sub, passing you as they do. 

“Where are we?” Penguin asks, coming up behind you to stand beside you. 

You shrug. “No idea. I’ve never been in this part of the Grand Line before.” 

As far as you can see, it's barren. There’s a cluster of trees in the distance, all tall and menacing, and you can’t help the sense of dread that creeps in. 

“I have to make a map.” You and Penguin turn to see Bepo holding a scroll of parchment and a pot of black paint. 

“Yeah, have fun with that,” Penguin mumbles, leaving the two of you. 

“You want to come with me?” Bepo asks. 

“She can’t.” 

Bepo visibly deflates. “Captain, you’re gonna make me go on my lonesome? With nobody? What if I fall down a ravine and break my leg?”

“You’ll be fine, Bepo. Now, go.”

“Yes, captain,” He says solemnly, trudging toward the plank. 

“I’m happy to go with him, you know.”

Law clicks his tongue. “You’re coming with me. We need to train.” 

“Train? Where?” You have a feeling you know the answer. 

“There.” He gestures with his chin to the forest. 

You sigh harshly and begin walking. “Come on, then. It’ll take a while to get there.”

Law quirks his eyebrow at you. 

“What?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“This’ll be tough, okay?” He says lowly. “I need to understand why your power makes your hands bleed. Then, we can work from there.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Law continues like he can sense your unease, “But—”

You grimace. “Okay.” 

“Okay?”

You nod and wave him over. “Yes, it’s fine. Now, let’s go, I’ve been waiting to kick your ass all week.” 

“I won’t go easy on you, sweetheart,” Law steps on the plank behind you. 

You hum, jumping onto the grass. “I don’t expect you to. Besides, my bounty isn’t high for no reason.”

Law pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Guess we’ll see, yeah?”

“Lead the way, Captain.”

—

“Is this necessary?” 

Law ignores you and continues using shambles to transport various logs and rocks into the clearing you found. The trees are taller than you thought, and you tilt your head to see the canopy. 

You understand why he’s doing it, moving obstacles into the area, but for your first time sparring with him, you figured it was a little overkill. 

It's silent, except for the leaves rustling in the breeze and insects humming. You've noticed that no birds inhabit the island, making the forest eerie and your hair stand on end. 

You turn, feeling like someone’s watching you, before Law reappears, making a beeline for you. 

He pulls the hat off his head and tosses it to the side. “Ready?” 

You blink, spinning to face him. “Now?” 

You ignored the layout of the obstacles. 

“Your opponent would’ve attacked you already,” Law deadpans, lifting his hand. “Room.” 

You squeak in surprise, leaping back when the blue dome approaches you. “Hey! I have fought before, you know. I know how it works.” 

Collecting your thoughts, you throw your hands up, almost tripping on a stray branch. You watch Law across the area; his gaze burns you, and you shiver. 

“Sew.” 

Threads materialise before you, and you aim for Law’s arms, deflating when he cuts them away easily with his katana. 

“You’re gonna need to do a lot better than that.”

You clench your jaw. Oh, so he’s cocky. “Sew.” 

“Shambles.”

And then he disappears, a branch hanging in the air and dropping to the ground where he once was. With your head on a swivel, you try to place him. Your threads vanish when they have nowhere to go, and you listen for him. 

“Too slow…”

You freeze at the feeling of cool metal across your throat. 

“That’s not fair,” You whisper, inhaling sharply and keeping your chest still. You didn’t even hear him.

“How would you get out of this?” He asks, breath hot on your ear. His forearm is firm around your stomach, and his chest is pressed against your back. 

You roll your eyes as you slowly weave threads around Law’s ankles. He doesn't make it easy for you, especially with his body flush on yours. Sighing, you lean your head back on his shoulder. You don’t realise just how close Law is until you feel his lips brush the shell of your ear. The sensation sends shivers down your spine. 

Law makes a sound of surprise. “What are you doing?”

You use his shock to your advantage, grabbing his right wrist with your left and pulling down. His katana falls forward, and you use needles to pierce his skin with minuscule pricks until he retracts the arm around your torso.

He lets out a grunt of discomfort as you lunge forward, pushing his stomach with your hand. You glance back to see Law fall backwards, the threads around his ankles doing their job. A large needle takes shape in your fist, and you lean over him, the tip against his jugular. Your legs are on either side of his hips, and your free hand is on his chest. 

Law smirks, his breathing ragged and eyes dark as he watches you. “Good.”

You lean back, the needle dissipating. “I—”

And then you’re on the ground, looking up at where you just sat, where Law sits on top of you. 

You feel your face heat up. 

“Never let your guard down,” He says, pinning your arms above your head. “Dead.” 

You wiggle your wrists to avert his attention from your bashful expression. “Get off.” 

His grip only tightens. “Fight.” 

You smirk, noticing his eyes widen when he feels a sharp point at his back. You hold a large needle, the tip scratching his spine. If this were a real-life situation, the needle as thick as a branch would be through his chest. So, you aim your threads at the trees behind Law, tying them to two thick trunks. 

“Well, sweetheart?” His voice is low. “What’re you gonna do besides threaten me with an oversized needle?” 

“Sew.” 

The threads fly toward him, wrap under his armpits and over his shoulders, and pull. Law flies back. Before he hits the tree, he appears next to it, a twig breaking to pieces against the trunk instead. 

“Shambles.” 

Trusting your instincts, you know he will swap you with the rock in front of him. Lifting your fist, your body is doused with tingles, and then you’re throwing your arm, your fist connecting with his jaw. His head snaps to the side. 

“Fuck,” Law spits blood onto the dirt. 

You bounce back on your toes. “Not so tough now, huh, big boy?” 

Law meets your glare with his own, and you feel the tendrils of your power purring against your skin. The sun pours through the canopy, the shadows dancing under your feet. You choose to use them to your advantage.

Threads snake along the forest floor, and you keep your eyes on Law to distract him. He pants, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, and you’re sure you look the same. You stand there, staring at each other, your threads slinking around him. Law’s tongue darts out to catch the blood on his lip before it drips onto his shirt, and he smiles, blood painting his teeth. The sight is unholy, and a shiver goes down your spine. 

“Well?” 

You continue to say nothing, your eyes trailing down his face to his lips and then further. Law stands there as you blatantly check him out. You never quite realised how tall he is; being in a cramped submarine makes everyone look tall, and maybe it's his terrible posture, too, because when you look at him now, he’s menacing. 

You want to climb him like a tree. 

You shake your head, remembering where you are. “Sew.” 

And then your threads wrap around his body, tightening. You approach him slowly, like a predator with its prey. 

“If you wanted to tie me up so bad, you should’ve just asked.” 

His comment has you gaping, and then he’s gone, swapping himself with another rock. You sigh and turn around, ducking before he can knock you over. 

Your palm shoots out, knocking him in the sternum. Law gasps and grabs your wrist, flipping your body so your chest is against a tree trunk. He stands flush against you. You pant with exhaustion, sweat dripping down the side of your face. 

“Go again,” Law growls, stepping back and letting you off the tree. “Room.” 

Your face hardens, and you run to put distance between you. “Needles.” 

Giant metal needles materialise before you, pointing directly at Law. You see his eyes widen slightly at their speed, but once your needles enter his room, he cuts them down like they’re cooked noodles. 

“Again.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Law’s eyebrow quirks up, a cocky smirk making your skin burn. “Again.” 

“Needles.” 

“Room.”

A familiar blue dome approaches, and you throw everything you can at him, but he’s quick. Law dodges and weaves through your attacks, slicing through all threads and slashing all needles you send him. 

You want to scream with frustration. Law retracts his room, opening his mouth to call out something. But blood slides down your forearms, and something snaps inside you. 

You know what’s happening, but you won’t stop it. You won’t use your full potential. Your grip on your ability slips, and your available power runs out, making the needles spin in the air and aim for Law. 

“No,” You whisper, trying to pull the needles away from him with the fumes of power you have left in your reserve, but it’s not enough. 

Law readies his katana, swiping at the needles as they race towards him like missiles. Usually, you’d see objects fly in different directions after being sliced by him. But, like he didn’t even brush them, the needles continue their path toward Law, and he pauses. “Shambles.” 

“Law!” You scream, watching him stumble to the forest floor in a different spot completely. 

Sprinting over to him, you put your hands on his chest. That’s when you notice the blood on your hands, and you run your hands over his torso to check for injuries. 

“Law?” You murmur, seeing his eyes squeezed shut. “Law.”

“You shouldn’t care for your opponent,” He groans and sits up, his hand rubbing his sternum. “But that was strong. Good.” 

Shaking your head, you ignore his stupid comment, your bloody palm over your mouth. “I hurt you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You fell.” 

“That was from shambles. Lost my balance.”

You stand on shaky legs. “What if I hit you?”

“You didn’t,” Law follows you up, noticing the blood on your hands. His breath catches in his throat, and he double-checks his body. He’s uninjured. 

Law is behind you when you turn, circling to stand before you. “Look at me.”

He speaks your name lowly. 

“Look at me,” He repeats, tone coaxing. 

You can’t, eyes focused on the blood dripping from your fingers. His hand brushes your cheek, and then his fingers are on your chin, tilting your face to his. 

“I’m fine, see,” Law pulls away from you, lifting his arms out to the sides. “You didn’t hurt me.” 

“But, the blood,” You say, bringing your hands closer to your face. “There’s so much of it.” 

Law closes his palms around your fingers, the blood smearing. “I’m okay, sweetheart, and so are you. We just need to work on using all of your available power, that’s all.”

You look into his eyes, the steel grey of them comforting. A shadow of a smile finds its way to his cheeks, and you exhale shakily. 

You won’t be using your full power in front of him. 

“You promise?” 

Law nods, squeezing your hands tighter. “Promise.” 

You breathe in and out, focusing on trying to stop the tears from collecting on your waterline.

Law lowers your hands, releasing them before he steps back and clears his throat, his usual hard exterior like a mask. “Do you want to go back to the sub?” 

You shake your head, trying to rub your palms on your pants. “I just want to stay here a bit longer. Don’t want anyone to see me like this.” 

“Like what?”

“Like I’m out of control.” 

Law sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. He’s thinking, you know that much. And the more you look at him, the more injuries you see. There’s a nasty bruise forming on the side of his jaw where you punched him, as well as dried blood on the corner of his lips, and there’s a little rope burn on the side of his neck. You don’t want to know what you look like. 

“C’mon,” Law says, turning and walking away from you. 

“Where’re we going?” 

“I think there’s a creek down here,” He nods in the direction he’s walking. “We’ll get the blood off you.”

You nod but don’t say anything. Law glances over his shoulder. 

“Is that okay?” 

“Oh,” You look up. “Yeah, that’s fine.” 

Law stops to wait for you to catch up. When you do, he leans his head down. “You were holding back.” 

Your shoulders tense. “Why do you say that?”

Law snorts. “Look at how much blood’s on your hands. It’s like a massacre.” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” You shrug. “Is that a problem?” 

“I can handle myself.”

You finally hear the creek he was talking about and ignore him. You haven’t heard the running water in a while despite being underwater. There’s something comforting about gurgling water flowing over rocks. 

“Next time we spar,” Law keeps his voice low. “I want to see why your bounty’s so high, okay? Because right now, you’re at 70 million berries.” 

You open your mouth to defend yourself, but he continues.

“There’s clearly more to your power than just throwing around needles and thread. I want to see it.” 

You let out a shaky breath. “My body will need to rest before I can do that.”

Law nods curtly. “And I respect that. Just don’t go easy on me next time.” 

You look at him to see a smirk playing on his lips. Scoffing, you bump him with your shoulder. 

The creek comes into view, and you rush to it, dipping your hands in the freezing water to clean your hands. As you scrub, Law sits beside you. 

The urge to tell him everything eats at you. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t tell him. He’s a rival pirate. But when you give him a sidelong glance and see the content glint in his eye, you break. You hope you don’t regret it. 

“I don’t use my true power,” You mumble, hoping he can’t hear you. 

Law blinks but leans toward you. You kick yourself when you realise he does. “Why?” 

“I’m scared of it.”

He doesn’t say anything, letting you continue. 

“My bounty’s so high and has been for years because of the few times I used it.”

“And you’d never use it again?” 

You ponder his question. “If the situation calls for it, then I would. But with Luffy, I never have to. We always find a way out of things.”

Law tilts his head, and you can tell there’s something he wants to ask. 

“Just say it,” You wave your hand. You’re sure you know what he’s going to ask anyway, so you may as well get it over with. 

“Can you use it on me?” 

You still. That was not what you were expecting.

“The Sew-Sew Fruit,” Law sits up straighter. “If what I’ve gathered from the abilities you’ve shown me and my research, I can guess that your true power is a mindscape where you can cut objects, people, from this world and sew them into your own. A sort of alternate reality.” 

You curse his brilliant mind. “Maybe you’re too smart for your own good.” 

“Am I right?” 

You keep washing your hands to busy yourself. “I don’t take entire people, only their souls. Why would you want me to use it on you?” 

“So I can help you.”

Something tugs on your subconscious, and you try your best to pinpoint it. “Are you crazy?” 

“Maybe.” Law puts his hands on your wrists, stopping your rough scrubbing—your hands are clean. 

His fingers are rough against yours, and you try your best to think of another topic because you sure as hell aren’t thinking about your power right now. 

“What do your tattoos mean?”

Law looks at you surprised. He’s silent momentarily, swallowing thickly before pulling his hands away from yours and running his fingers over his knuckles. You can tell he doesn’t talk about himself much because he mulls over the words he wants to say in his mouth before he does. 

“These remind me of what’s at stake when treating patients. Helps keep me calm.” 

You stare at the letters, reflecting on what Shakuyaku told you when you were on Sabaody. Trafalgar Law, the Surgeon of Death. 

When he doesn’t go on about the others, you don’t ask. 

“Cool,” You say, picking a loose thread on your pants. 

Law hums, watching your fingers fidget. 

You wipe your hands dry on your t-shirt. “Anyway, why do you want me to use Seam on you?” 

“Seam,” Law mutters. “Straw Hat said you need to become stronger. I told him I’d help, so I will with the only way I know how.” 

“Which is?”

“A hands-on approach.”

You scratch your hairline in an attempt to hide from him. It’s true what Luffy told him because he also told you and your crew. Get stronger.

You cough. “What do you get out of this?” 

“Now you’re thinking like a pirate,” Law teases before he shrugs. “Nothing but the satisfaction of helping a friend.” 

Friend. 

Your stomach churns with discomfort, and you’re unsure why the word burns you so much. It sounds foreign on Law’s tongue. But despite his joking manner, the words he spoke when you first met scolds you from the inside out. 

“But I’m just useful to you, right?” You poke your finger into his chest. “What did you call me? Leverage?” 

Law sighs, running his hand through his hair. “That was before. It’s different now.” 

“Before what?” You ask, standing from the bed of the creek. Law follows, and he towers over you. He swallows, and you can tell he’s deciding whether to tell you. His cheeks go ruddy, and you squint at him in confusion. 

“It’s not important.”

“Law.”

It’s hurting him to say it.

“Before—”

“Captain! Quick!” 

Law’s head snaps to the side, concern changing his features. You watch him, mind racing at what he could possibly mean about before. 

“Bepo?” Law yells. “What’s wrong?” 

“We gotta go!” The bear calls from the forest. “The island’s full of giant lizards, and they’re attacking us!” 

Law looks unamused but moves anyway, running in the direction of Bepo’s voice and leaving you next to the water. 

You stare at the place he just was, your chest tight. You wipe your nose and return to the sub, watching for the giant lizards Bepo warned you about.

—

It turns out that giant lizards were the codename for Ikkaku’s return. You haven’t bothered to ask why, but you're more anxious about meeting the woman responsible for the maintenance of the submarine. 

In the distance, Law stands beside the Polar Tang, his hand on his forehead to shade his eyes from the sun's harsh glare. Above him, a large seagull descends, and on the back of it, a woman. 

When you make it to the sub, the bird is gone, and all that remains is Ikkaku. Her dark curly hair is covered with a yellow and orange striped beanie, and she still dons the white Heart Pirates boiler suit. She speaks animately to Penguin as you look around for Law. He must’ve returned to the submarine when you put your head down to watch for sparse rocks. 

Penguin calls your name, and you smile. “Hi!” 

Ikkaku eyes you up and down, her expression sour. “A Straw Hat, huh? I don’t know what you’re still doing here, but Captain is more than capable of handling whatever it is alone.” 

You come up short, watching as she bumps Penguin’s shoulder and walks away. You purse your lips, emotion lodged in your throat. The moment is over before it even begins, and there’s a surge of awkward tension in the air. Penguin clears his throat.

“You didn’t do anything,” He reassures, his hat-shrouded eyes darkening. “Ikkaku doesn't trust you guys. A-And by you guys, I mean the Straw Hats. Her, Uni, and Clione have a thing... I’m sure they'll get over it.” 

You hum and pretend the words don’t hurt you the way they do. Shrugging, you fake a laugh. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. I wouldn't trust me either.” 

He calls your name as you leave, not sparing a glance in the direction of the group that whispers as you pass by.

Bepo stands idly on the deck, twisting the map in his paws. You raise an eyebrow when he gives you a pitiful look.

"I don't need sympathy, Bepo."

He squeaks and almost rips the paper. "No, no sympathy here."

You give him a tight-lipped smile and pat his arm.

"I'm sorry," He murmurs, hanging his head.

"Wanna go inside?"

Bepo nods and turns, shuffling his feet to the door. His movements make a laugh tumble from your lips, and when he hears, Bepo's eyes are full of hope.

You reluctantly smile and shove him, though it does nothing to sway the tall mink.

"At least you've got me," Bepo says. "I know I'm not much, but—"

"Quit the self-deprecating jokes, Bepo," Shachi coughs from behind you. Penguin stands beside him and laughs. You can tell they're trying to lighten your mood.

You won't admit it, but it works.

"Yeah, you're gonna make the Tang flood with your pathetic tears," Penguin quips, brushing past you and down the stairs to the common area.

Bepo's jaw goes slack, and he pauses mid-step. "I'm sorry."

Chatter from the rest of the crew fills the stairwell, and you grab Bepo's paw to drag him down.

"Don't listen to them," You say, side-eyeing Penguin and Shachi when you pass them on the way to the couch. "They're just jealous that I like you more than them."

"Woah! Rude!"

"That's too far and NOT true!"

Bepo sticks out his tongue, and his two best friends pout.

You shake your head at their antics and wonder how you got so lucky to end up with them as your friends—you'd never say it out loud, but they fill the Straw Hat crew-sized void inside you.

— Scene 3 —

He’s watching you. 

If it were anyone else, it’d be unsettling. But Law’s steely grey eyes, usually reserved and cold, turn different when they’re on you. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

It’s a night off that hasn’t happened while you’ve been aboard, but Penguin and Shachi tell you they're the best nights of the year, and who are you to be doubtful? 

So, you are sitting on a couch in the common area, half-focused on the poker game before you. You’re not playing; instead, you choose to observe Bepo struggling to keep the cards in his paws and Shachi sneaking peeks at the ones that slip. A glass of who knows what, courtesy of Penguin, sits between your fingers, but you don’t drink any more of it—he’s very heavy-handed. 

Across the room, Law sits on a stray dining chair, his legs spread. He also has a near-full glass, holding it between his open knees as he leans his forearms on his thighs. His hat is lopsided on his head, and his katana is propped against the wall beside him. Jean-Bart talks animately, but you know Law isn’t listening. He’s focused on you, after all. 

He asked if you could use Seam on him a week and a half ago, and since then, he’s kept to himself. It’s annoying you. 

Your eyes flicker to his, and he doesn’t react. You raise an eyebrow at him, to which he mirrors. Law’s expression remains cold, and you tilt your head in a silent question. You hope he understands you. 

Law looks away, and you deflate. 

“You want to take my place?” Shachi asks, throwing his cards on the table as his crewmates laugh. Uni, Clione, and Ikkaku remain silent, and you shake your head, disappointed. 

“I think I’ll go to bed.”

Penguin boos you from the other side of the table, and Bepo pouts. “You can’t!”

“Sorry, boys,” You force a laugh, setting your glass on the side table beside the couch. “Have fun.”

They all groan and make excuses why you can’t leave while you walk from the room. The stairwell is silent, and you take the stairs quickly. You risk a glance over your shoulder as you rush to your room.

The thought of finally having another woman on board used to make you excited; you were so keen to make another friend, but now it makes you bitter. It seems your reputation precedes you and not in the way you wish. From her comment last week, you guess Ikkaku thinks you’re using Law, but she could be further from the truth. You’ve grown fond of the man, and if you’re reading the signals right, he, you. 

An almost inaudible zip and boots clicking behind you make your heart skip; you’re certain Law used Shambles to follow you. 

“Yes?” 

Law doesn’t speak. Instead, there’s another zip right next to you and another, and then you stumble into his office. 

“Why,” You hunch over, panting, “would you do that?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” 

You sigh. “Give me a minute.” 

Law makes a sound of indignation. “You were fine when we were sparring.”

“I hadn’t been drinking then,” You say, stretching back up. 

He looks at you unimpressed. “Are you done?”

You level him with a glare, and when you don’t respond, Law circles his desk. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Ikkaku doesn’t like me.” 

Law hums and runs his tongue over his teeth. “Yeah, she’s made her dislike known.” 

You put your hands out. “What do I do? I’m not staying here if I drive a wedge between you and your crew…” 

“You’re staying. I want you here. They can deal with it.” 

The underlying desperation in his tone catches you off guard, and you open your mouth to respond when he cuts you off with a different topic entirely. 

“When will you be ready to use Seam?”

“Huh?” You blink. 

“Will you be ready tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow?” You ask, still grasping the fact that he wants you here. “Where’re we going tomorrow?” 

“Bepo said there’s an island ahead,” He says. “I thought it’d be a good opportunity to start your training.” 

“We did start.”

“Not with Seam.” 

You regret telling him its name. “Fine, yeah, I’ll be ready tomorrow.” 

“Repeat it back to me.”

You furrow your brows. “What?”

Law sighs. “Repeat the plan, so I know we’re on the same page.”

“You’ve got issues.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

You gape at him and scoff. You can’t believe him right now, especially after the momentary display of vulnerability. 

Rolling your eyes, you groan. “Fine.”

Law tilts his head. 

“We’ll train at the next island,” You rehash. “And there I’ll use Seam. Okay?”

“Great,” He smiles. 

You narrow your eyes when you see it’s fake. That son of a— “Great.”

“Perfect.”

“Perfect!” 

And then you leave, wanting nothing more than to wipe that pretty, cocky smirk off his face. 

— Scene 4 —

The Polar Tang docked at the island not twelve hours later. 

Your stomach flips with anxiety, your throat thick with nerves. You barely speak, choosing to keep your jaw set to prevent yourself from throwing up. 

You know you can pull out at any time, but the thought of holding yourself back any longer makes you seethe. If Luffy wants you to get stronger, then you will.

“You good?”

You let out a shaky breath, looking to your right. The coast of the island is calm, and the sun barely rocks where you stand on the deck. “Should be. Just gotta get the nerves out.”

Law looks over the uninhabited island. “You can say no.”

“I know.” 

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Law,” You sigh, turning toward him. His eyes are wide with apprehension, but he relaxes when you rest your fingers on his bicep. “I want to. This needs to happen if I’m to survive in the New World.”

Law raises an eyebrow, still unsure, but nods. “Okay.” 

And then he’s gone, appearing 30 feet away on the grass. “Room.”

You jump down from the deck onto the ground, walking into his Room. You’d discussed the entire plan earlier today, hunched over his desk with a pen and paper. You were to summon Seam inside Law’s Room in case the island decides to surprise you with giant lizards (you laughed when Law brought it up) or if something goes wrong. You’re not sure how it would work considering his consciousness inside your mindscape, but if it makes him feel safer, you’re happy to comply. 

Law stands there, waiting for you to approach. “Ready, sweetheart?”

You nod, resting your hand on his arm. You inhale sharply and deeply, closing your eyes and calming the nerves, reaping havoc within your stomach. 

Law watches you, and somehow, that slows your racing heart. You’re sure it’s something he can do inside Room, but you put that thought aside, focusing on honing your power. 

“Seam.”

Law makes a startled sound, and you know he sees the scene before you. Your eyes flicker open, and for the first time in years, you see fragments of the world mending together with your own—the one created by the Sew-Sew Fruit. You’re still in the real world, but you’ve taken Law’s soul in your hands. 

You feel him stiffen as his heart slows and his breathing weakens. You hate having someone’s life in your hands like this—maybe you should get Law’s death tattoos inked on your fingers, too. 

You transport yourself into Seam, seeing Law walking around aimlessly. His eyes widen as he curses silently, watching the ocean hang from the sky, the Polar Tang floating mid-air. 

Seam is a mixture of the current place and all the others you’ve seen. And since becoming a pirate, Seam has grown exponentially. To the right, you see the Going Merry docked in Skypeia, the clouds from the sky island hanging around it. Behind you, there’s a combination of the snowy mountains of Drum Island and the dunes of Alabasta, and to your left sits the Baratie. On the horizon before you, bats fly around, and the mansion on Thriller Bark sits ominously in the distance. 

With the ocean above you, it’s easy to see where things are. And beneath your feet is grass. It’s always been grass. 

It’s a collection of your memories, you realise. And you tear up at the sight of everything around you. It’s been a long time since you’ve been here. 

He whispers your name in disbelief. “This is incredible.”

You shrug one shoulder, not used to Law using such words. 

Law spins around and walks toward you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, are you?” 

“I feel weightless,” Law huffs a laugh. “What’s going on outside?”

“You’re dead.”

Law’s look of incredulity drops. “What?”

“Not really, but it seems like you are. When someone’s inside Seam, their soul transfers over, and their body doesn’t. So we’re still on the island, but your body is frozen in a dreamlike state.” 

“Can you use this to fight? Can you simply touch someone, and their soul comes here? How many souls can transfer?” 

“You’re full of questions today,” You joke, the feeling of being in Seam alleviating the heaviness on your chest. It surprises you. “But to put it simply, yes, yes, and as many as I want, but the more there are, the more it drains me.” 

“Wow,” Law breathes, his face to the sky as he studies his submarine. “You seal souls in here.” 

The initial relief of being here and nothing bad happening dissipates, and you nod solemnly. 

“Yes.”

“You’re incredible.”

You whip your head toward him, the movement quick. “What?”

Law laughs unguarded. It’s a sound you’ve never heard, and you want to bottle it up and keep it forever. “This—you are extraordinary. ”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Your cheeks are hot. 

Who is this man, and what has he done with Law? 

“And you don’t use it? Why?” 

It’s a loaded question, but Law doesn’t seem to notice your wary expression. 

“I—uh, there was an incident.”

Law gives you a quizzical look. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“No,” You nod. “I want to.”

He remains silent, giving you time to collect your thoughts.

“A girl from my island was killed when she was in Seam.” 

Law listens intently, pulling you to the floor. You sit across from him, your legs crossed and your knees touching his. The grass underneath you is plush and never itchy. Your fingertips play with the blades of green, but they never rip. 

“It was years ago, so don’t pity me, okay?” 

He says nothing.

“Pirates attacked my island while I was using Seam on my friend, and because I know what’s going on on the outside, I ran, thinking my friend was following me. I didn’t know that a person’s physical body was unresponsive while they were in there. But because she was basically dead on her feet, and her soul was still in Seam, when the pirate killed her, her soul had nowhere to return to.”

Law’s thinking, you can tell. His eyebrows triangulate, and then realisation overcomes his expression.

“She’s still here.”

You nod and turn, pointing to a small house in the distance. It looks ragged now, but it still fills your heart with grief. It is your old home. “She lives in there. It’s protected against the other souls I bring here, but she remains the age she died.” 

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

You shrug. “It is what it is. No use dwelling on the past.”

“Can I use my powers in here?”

“Your Devil Fruit soul is in here, isn’t it?” 

He nods. “So, if I use Room…”

“Its power and effectiveness will be depleted, but it will work.” 

“So you can fight people with Devil Fruits here. Their power is just weak.”

“Yeah…” You trail off. “But I can also move between worlds and kill them outside when their soul’s in here, trapping them forever. It’s the same here. If I kill the soul, the body dies. Either way, it’s like cutting down someone already dead.” 

Law exhales. You know the look in his eye, and your chest tightens.

“You want to use me.”

He sighs. “It’s not like that. I would never force you—I’d need your permission beforehand, of course.”

“What is it?”

Law scratches his forehead. “I’ve had this plan to become a Warlord.”

You freeze with your heart in your throat. A Warlord? “Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

You can tell he’s never told anyone this piece of information before by how he stutters it out—you’ve never seen Law stutter in the few months you’ve lived with his crew.

“If you’re going to use me to get there, I need to know why.”

Law takes your hand. “I’d only bring you with me if you wanted to, okay? There’s no ulterior motive. You’re powerful enough to kill me. This place is proof of that.” 

“Prove it to me,” You chew on your lip. “And then tell me your plan.”

He levels you with a wary look that cracks his face open. You’ve known Law to be emotionally constipated; it's a fact, but the face he wears now is one that makes him look younger, one that he’s never shown anyone in a long time. 

Law carefully brings his hands to his chest. He whispers something, scalpel. The technique is weak here, but you watch as his chest opens and his heart slides from a square slot. You stare at it in awe. 

“I’ve never done this before, given this willingly to someone else, okay?” His voice is wobbly. “Be careful with it.” 

And when he places the blue cube in your hands, your eyes fill with tears. His heart sits in your palms; it throbs softly and is warm. So warm. 

Then you realise your position: A pirate of a rival crew, holding the heart of a captain who’s powerful enough to become a Warlord. You could easily crush it between your hands, and being inside Seam, you could do it without him interfering. You could save yourself the trouble in the future when you’re back with the Straw Hats. It’s so easy. 

You peer up at Law, who remains still, his eyes on yours. You have control of his heart, and he’s staring at you. It’s then you know what this means. What he means to you. You’ve known him for two and a half months, but you would trust him with your life, and it’s obvious he would you, too. 

The throbbing of his heart increases, and you giggle in shock at the phenomenon. 

It's a monumental moment, you know this, though you feel nothing but anticipation in your chest. Anticipation for the sole reason that Law knows you're powerful enough to help him, and that makes him excited, which in turn, makes you excited. 

You love him. 

The realisation hits you all at once, and silent tears slide down your cheeks, and when your eyes focus back on him, everything you’ve ever wanted is sitting right before you. 

The moment is etching itself into your brain as you sit there, arms shaking with anxiety. 

You swallow and exhale deeply. “I trust you.” 

“I want to kill the four emperors.” 

—

So much for training, you think as you get back inside the Polar Tang. 

After you returned Law’s soul to his body, he asked endless questions. And who are you to turn down someone as eager to learn as he is? 

You’ve never seen Law so animated, and judging by the looks on Bepo’s face, neither has he. Law leads you down to his office, the door opposite your bedroom, and clicks it shut behind him. 

You sit on a chair facing his desk, fingernails picking the worn leather. “So, what's the plan?” 

Law pokes around the bookshelf on the room's far wall, picking out different books. He puts the stack on his desk and sits in his chair. Law grabs the first book on the pile. There’s an air about him that makes your heart swell tenfold—he has a child-like wonder etched into his expression and a giddy dance in his fingers as he flips to a predetermined page. 

“I’m going to give the World Government one hundred hearts.” 

You're taken aback, leaning forward in the armchair. The way he says it with such an innocent flicker to his tone makes you question if he really just said what he did. “Whose?” 

“Pirates,” He pours over the page, using his finger to find the line he’s looking for. 

“Isn’t that unethical?” 

Law snorts, glancing up at you. “I’m not killing them.”

You purse your lips with slight amusement. “Okay…” Like that makes it better. 

“The Marines can decide what to do with the hearts.”

“And how are you doing this?”

Law observes you for a second. “Ever heard of Poneglyphs?” 

“Robin told me.” 

“Nico Robin?”

You hum. “What about them?”

“I’ve got intel that there's one on an island called Hachinosu in the New World, and we’re going to infiltrate it.” 

“Okay, I get that, but why steal the hearts?”

“To get the government’s attention.” 

“There’s more to this you’re not telling me,” You say. 

Law nods. “Of course there is. But this is a stepping stone in the grand scheme.” 

“And what’s the grand scheme?”

“I need to kill someone,” Law mutters. That was easy. 

“You don’t mean…”

“Say it.”

“Another Warlord?”

You get your response when he doesn’t answer, and decide to take a different approach. 

“What’s this got to do with the Four Emperors of the Sea?” 

Law exhales deeply. “Kaido wants to monopolise on SMILE to create a pirate crew solely of Devil Fruit users. Donquioxte Doflamingo runs the factory that produces them on Dressrosa, another island in the New World.” 

“Wait,” You close your eyes, mind puzzled. “You’re gonna need to explain the whole thing to me.”

Law turns the book in front of him to show you the page. There’s an illustration of a giant building, in front of it stands a group of people in white coats. 

“Twenty years ago, there were scientists on this island, Punk Hazard, who artificially created ancient giants,” He points to an island on the map on the opposite page. “Kaido purchased these giants for his crew at the time.”

Law looks at you expectantly to make sure you’re following. When you nod, exhaling, he continues. 

“Two years ago, when the island was being used by Vegapunk, the island exploded when one of his scientists threw a fit with his Devil Fruit, rendering it uninhabitable.

“This year, the poison gas that was on the island as a result of that scientist’s rage dispersed. After Marineford, it was the site of Aokiji and Akainu’s battle. But, if I’ve heard correctly, there are plans to restore Vegapunk’s laboratory and start producing a substance called SAD, which can be used to make SMILE or man-made Devil Fruits. Kaido is the mastermind behind this since he took the original giants from the scientists before Vegapunk. Therefore, I need to become a Warlord to have unrestricted access to and destroy the site.” 

He’s got this all figured out. 

“So, who's the Warlord you want to kill?” 

“Donquixote Doflamingo.”

You ponder it. “Why?”

“Revenge.” 

“And what do I get out of this?”  

Law runs his eyes over you. “Think of it as helping a friend. We help each other reach our goals. Me, killing Doflamingo, and you, stronger than you’ve ever been.”

You consider his proposition, pursing your lips when he rehashes what he said on Lizard Island. 

Helping a friend. You wonder if it’s something he says to every pirate he makes an alliance with, but you doubt it. You’ve been on his submarine long enough to know that that word isn’t in this man’s vocabulary—you wonder what it means to him. 

It’s a huge plan, one that could fail at any time, and sure, there are things he’s not telling you—like how the Poneglyphs and Doflamingo are correlated, perhaps they’re not—but you know your answer. You’ve always been a sucker for revenge plans. 

Before you tell him, you ponder how your crew is going, if they’d be scared that you’re even considering helping someone become a Warlord. You think about the ones you’ve defeated or fought before: Crocodile, Blackbeard, Moria, Bartholomew Kuma. But there’s a few that helped you. Boa Hancock is the main woman on your mind, and you smile. You hope Luffy’s okay. 

So, your decision is an easy one. You smile. “When do we start?”  

— Scene 5 —

Bepo knows something’s going on. He sees the silent conversations between you and his captain and the meetings in Law’s office. At first, he thinks nothing of it since Law’s training you, But when he watches you and Law whisper in a crowded room, his poor little heart can’t take it any longer. 

“So, you and Law…”

You don’t look up from the map Bepo has you outlining. “What about me and Law?”

“Are you… you know…”

When you glance at him, the fur on his cheeks is tinted red. “What are you talking about?”

Bepo squeaks. “Is there something going on?” 

Your hand pauses on the page. “Like what?”

“Something… you know,” Bepo whines. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Bepo, I couldn’t make you say anything. I don’t even know what you’re referring to.” 

“Are you kissing?” He slaps his paw over his mouth. 

You gape at him, your face heating up. “What? No!”

“I’m sorry!” Bepo cries.

You sit awkwardly with your face in your hands, having dropped the pencil at his question. 

“Talk to Law if you’re so concerned about it,” You say, dropping your hands to your lap. “But never ask that again.”

Bepo stands from the table, his chair scraping. “I’m sorry!” 

And then he runs from the room. You stare at where he just sat, contemplating if you and Law looked like that from an outsider’s perspective. Surely, you have countless meetings about the mission and training at almost every possible island the submarine encounters, but that’s all business. Your body warms like it's trying to rid itself of a virus. 

You rest your forehead on the table. If the Heart Pirates think something like that is happening, the alliance between you and Law will never work. He can’t have his crew distrusting him. 

There’s a crackling through the speakers. 

“Meeting in the common area in 5. I won’t tell you again.”

When you get there, the crew is packed inside. You spot Bepo near the front of the room and push through pirates to get there; all of them are happy to let you through. You wonder if they think you’re only here for one reason. The thought disgusts you. 

“We have a new objective,” Law announces. “To kill Domflamingo, a Warlord status must be achieved.”

The Heart Pirates gasp and start murmuring. A few pirates, namely Uni, Ikkaku, and Clione, who you’ve yet to have a proper conversation with, eye you with disdain. They clearly have a problem with you, a Straw Hat, being here, but you give them a tight-lipped smile and look back to Law. 

He looks at you and says your name. “We’re forming an alliance. She has Devil Fruit powers that could make the process quicker. Therefore, we’ll be working together for the foreseeable future. We leave for the New World now.”

Your smile is still a thin line, but you know why he had to tell him—they’re his crew, after all. 

“So get your shit together,” He glares at the three pirates who regard you with contempt. “Back to work.” 

A collective yes, captain rumbles through the room before they go back to their tasks. 

“And Bepo,” Law says, his voice low. “Get your head out of the gutter.” 

Bepo whines and then sulks as he leaves, his head down. Penguin and Shachi bump his shoulders, snickering. You shadow them down to the boiler room, your steps light and calculated. 

It was a technique Law taught you, how to keep your steps silent. Your training has been more beneficial than you imagined—Zoro will be so proud of your stealth skills—and you still have much to learn. 

Seam has been easier each time you summon it, and the thought of doing so now brings little to no negative emotions. You’ve learnt to embrace the technique instead of fearing it—as you said, there’s no use dwelling on the past. 

Two weeks isn’t a lot of time, but you reiterate the plan in your mind every available moment Bepo has you watching him work instead of making you outline islands. It’s all you think about before you sleep and when you wake up. That and Law. 

You shake your head. There’s no time to think about him when the most important year of your life is about to begin. 

Your mother always told you that if you risk nothing, you’re risking everything. And if you and Law are to stop Doflamingo and whatever he has over Law’s head, it’s only a matter of time before you must decide what is worth risking for the sake of humanity. 

— Scene 6 —

“Docking!” 

The submarine surfaces at a random island in the New World. You’re the first to emerge from the entrance, and people stare at the submarine with suspicious glares. You pay no mind.

It’s been three months since Law told you his plan and three months since your hands last bled. The Heart Pirates are on their way to Hachinosu Pirate Island, where the Poneglyph is, and Law recommended a trial for the heart-stealing scheme. The victim is some lowly pirate named Seamus Wells. 

Since you’ve entered the New World, you’ve used Seam far more than you ever thought you would, no longer holding back your true power. The mere thought of showing your crew what you’ve become fills you with such anticipation that you can barely contain it nowadays. 

Bepo runs past you, the plank of wood in his paws. He slams it down on the concrete, causing a few civilians to flee in terror. “Oops.”

“Seamus Wells should be staying on the island's east side,” Law announces as his crew files onto the deck. “Keep away from there, understand?” 

Yes, captain. 

“We’ve got five hours to kill before we need to be there,” He says, adjusting the katana on his shoulder. “Do whatever you want.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “You’re not coming?”

“I’d rather stay here than be recognised and jeopardise our plan. Here,” He fishes a baby transponder snail from his coat. “Take this. I’ll let you know if the plan changes.” 

You take it from him, noticing the patterned hat on its head, which is similar to the one that sits on Law’s. “That’s so cute.”

“Shut it,” Law snaps, his cold exterior never wavering. “Bepo, accompany her.”

“Doubt she needs an escort, but okay,” Bepo jokes, pulling you with him off the sub. 

Law turns, pausing to scan the rear of the submarine with his sharp eyes before he goes inside.

Guess he’s all business today. 

“Come on, are you hungry?” 

You smile at the polar bear, dragging your gaze away from Law’s retreating figure. “I could eat.”

Penguin cuts in, his steps aligning with yours. “I’m starving.”

“Me, too,” Shachi groans. 

Bepo shakes his head. “Why’re you two here?”

“Captain told you to accompany her, and we’re accompanying you.” 

Bepo opens to mouth to reply, most likely a complaint, but you point to a restaurant in the distance and a line of people outside. “Let's go there.”

Penguin and Shachi’s steps increase, and then they are running toward the building. There are a few stray screams, but most people disappear when you join the end of the line. 

“What’s their problem?” Bepo stills beside you, and you look up at him. “What?”

“Look.”

Your face and Law’s hang on the wall of the restaurant entrance, and an obscene number of berries are listed below your names. Wanted posters. 

“They know you’re working together.”

“I got that,” You snap, the mere presence of the posters souring your mood. Cursing under your breath, you feel your chest tighten. “But the Straw Hats are meant to be dead.” 

“We should go back to the sub,” Penguin mumbles, his eyes darting in every direction. When you turn to see where he’s looking, you glare at the civilians approaching slowly with firearms. There aren’t many; you count fifteen minimum, but the fact that you’ve been here less than twenty minutes has irritation morphing your features. 

“They’re not meant to know I’m alive.” 

Bepo whines beside you. “We gotta go.”

“Okay, in a second.” You take a second to inspect yours. 400 million berries. 

You pout in confusion. When did that increase? 

And then you slide your eyes to Law’s. 450 million berries. 

You smirk before you notice the whispering occurring around you. Perhaps if you saw them in your own time and not in front of a large group of civilians, you’d taken them down and show Law. There is only a 50 million berry difference. 

The others are already down the road when you decide to leave the line, your nerves simmering. 

If the world knows a Straw Hat is alive, you may as well embrace it. 

“Hurry up!”

You twist your lips, stopping in the middle of the street to observe the civilians. 

“Get outta here, pirate!” “Yeah! Unless you want your head on a stick.” 

You feel a pang of regret in your chest at the fear on their faces but continue toward the Polar Tang. 

There are quick, heavy footfalls behind you. In the distance, you see Law standing on the deck, watching you. His face remains emotionless, but you see a familiar glint in his eye. 

When the person swings their weapon, you dodge swiftly, moving your head slightly to the left. You have yet to face them, but you can imagine the gobsmacked look on their face. 

You refuse to fight a civilian, instead choosing to break out into a sprint toward the submarine. 

“Took you a while,” Law teases. “I was starting to get worried.”

You stick your tongue out, crossing the wood plank to jump onto the deck. “Awww, you care about me?”

“Tsk,” Law turns around, cheeks warming. “We’re going to dock elsewhere.”

You hop down the stairs, preparing yourself for the jolt of the entrance closing. The sub immediately submerges, and Law touches your shoulder to keep you steady. 

“Guess what I saw,” You bite back your smile. 

“Enlighten me.” 

“My bounty’s gone up.”

Law smirks, glancing at the barely contained smile on your face. “Oh, yeah?”

“400 million.”

He whistles lowly. “Soon, you’ll be in the big league, sweetheart.”

You knock his bicep with your shoulder. “Okay, Mr 450 million.” 

“Captain! The east side of the island is approaching.” 

“Surface there,” Law replies without taking his eyes off you. 

His voice lowers. “We’re moving the mission forward. The island’s already aware of our presence. May as well get it over with now.” 

“Docking!”

“Let’s go.”

—

Seamus Wells works in a fish factory. The sun sets behind you as you step through discarded fish guts and bones, the floor slathered with sticky blood. You hold your hand over your nose and mouth, the smell enough to make you gag. 

Law strides ahead of you, the scabbard that holds his katana reflecting the deep gold of the sun. How he’s walking through here fine is unknown to you, but you try to catch up with him, the soles of your boots slipping slightly. 

“You’d think they’d have a better way of managing this,” You murmur. “Poor fish.” 

“Quiet.” 

You frown, mocking him. A crack from the floor above makes your face drop. 

Law stops ahead of you, his hand out, his index finger pointed. You know the gesture. Shut the fuck up, and don’t move. 

His head turns slowly until you see his sidelong glance on you. There are no further sounds, and you hold your breath. 

You realise the sun goes down fairly quickly on San Faldo, and the night air wafts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It’s suddenly dark, and the waves against the wharf outside have settled. 

Unease stews in your stomach, and you resist the urge to run. You don’t dare look behind you in fear of what you may see, focusing your eyes on the staircase in the corner. Across from you, Law senses your discomfort, and his steps are light and calculated as he makes his way over to you. 

You grasp his hand, chills going down your spine as the wind whistles through a crack in the broken window on the far wall. The scene reminds you of Thriller Bark, and you set your jaw in an attempt to stop shivering. 

Law’s hand is big and warm in yours, his skin calloused. His head is on a swivel, monitoring for any danger. You grip harder, moving your other hand to the crook of his elbow. 

And despite the terror coursing through your veins, you can’t help but take note of the hard muscle. It’s a good distraction but not important right now, and you almost laugh at your ridiculousness. Law looks down at you, a quizzical twinkle in his eye, but he doesn’t move an inch. 

You shake against him, the breeze finding its way under your clothes, and notice that you can see it when you breathe. When did the temperature drop so drastically? 

Law points upstairs, to which you do nothing. If he was expecting a response, he didn’t get one. Then, he raises his hand. 

“Shambles,” He whispers, and you almost lose your balance as you land at the foot of the stairs. 

“Don’t make any unnecessary noise,” Law leans to whisper in your ear, and you shiver. 

You silently salute, choosing to lighten the mood with a silly gesture that he blinks at. Law makes to go up the stairs, ignoring your gesture. Panic takes hold of your chest, and you tug him back into you. 

“What’re you doing?”

Law scrunches his face. “Me? What’re you doing?” 

You squeak when there’s a scuffle. Clearly, over it, Law sighs and takes the stairs two at a time. And since he knows you won’t stay downstairs alone, he isn’t surprised when you chase after him, your hand returning to his forearm. 

What you see is nothing short of disgusting. 

“What the fuck.”

The man, who you know is Seamus, sits on a wooden chair, fish blood soaking his clothes. 

“Keep away from me!” 

“Seriously?” Law utters, unimpressed. 

“Stay back!”

You scowl. “And to think I was scared shitless.” 

Law steps away from you. “Room.” 

A familiar blue dome covers you. Law draws his katana from its scabbard, its sleek design glinting in the moonlight. He slices the air, and Seamus is dismembered, his head floating a few feet above his body. 

Seamus screams, noticing his body sitting in the chair headless. “Don’t kill me!”

Law makes quick work of the fish blood, using his power to remove it from Seamus’ clothes. You watch in awe as the white of the t-shirt turns pristine.

You’ve told Law of your admiration for his Devil Fruit powers. He usually waves it off with pink-tinted cheeks and an unamused expression. But watching something like this in action, you want to know just how deep his power goes. 

“Please! I’ll do anything,” Seamus sobs, tears and snot coating his face. “Please don’t kill me.” 

“As you’ve said, asshole,” Law steps back and retracts room. “Your turn.”

You feel your icy cheeks defrost at the realisation of his actions. You give him a smile of appreciation and approach Seamus. 

But when he looks at you, his crying ceases. “What’re you gonna do, huh? Slap me with those little hands? You should let your boyfriend do the work.” 

Law grunts behind you, but you cock your head, pointedly ignoring the boyfriend call. 

Seamus chokes out a laugh between his hiccups. “You don’t scare me.” 

You shrug and place your hand on his greasy hair. “Seam.” 

He goes limp in the chair, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

“Can I have fun with him while you’re in there?”

“Go ahead,” You joke before transporting into Seam. 

Seamus’ wails echo through your mindscape when you get there. It’s changed, and you give the scene a look of disgust. Thanks to Seamus, the walls of Seam are painted red, fish blood dripping from the Sunny, coagulating on the sands of Alabasta, and staining the seas of the East Blue. You curse him for tainting your memories. 

He’s running toward the house, and you claw your hand. “Sew.”

He’s yanked back, a thick thread wrapped around his neck. He struggles against it as you pull him toward you, and when he gets a glimpse of you, he screams. 

Needles materialise in your hands, and you slam one of them down just in front of his crotch, to which his eyes bulge out of his head.

“You were talking such a tough game out there, Seamus. What happened?” You'd surely crack a few teeth if you clenched your jaw any harder. “You even said I wasn’t scary, yet you screamed when you saw me.”

He says nothing, but his throat is starting to become raw. 

“You’ve ruined Seam with your stupid, fishy blood tactic,” You complain, sinking the second needle into the grass beside his foot, just knicking the edge of his shoe. “Now, it's all I’m gonna see for the next few weeks.” 

Sighing, you consider him again, groaning when you see that the front of his pants is darker than the rest. 

“Ergh,” You scrunch your nose. “I’m gonna leave now. My job’s done.”

“Don’t kill me!”

When you transport out of Seam, you see Law position his hand for scalpel, and you immediately remove your fingers from the strands of hair.

“Oh,” You roll your lips between your teeth when you circle the chair. You told Law to make a masterpiece, and he did, albeit a little psychotically. 

Law has a callous smile playing on his lips, and the sight is utterly intoxicating. The first time you saw the expression and vacant silver gaze, you understood why they call him the Surgeon of Death—the man is simply brutal. When you first met him, you thought his blood ran cold, but you hadn’t met the man Shakky spoke of until he took the first heart of one hundred. Initially, he scared you, but now, you’re terribly and irrevocably fascinated by him. If only those people knew the side of him that you did. 

“Have fun in there?”

“Looks like your fun puts mine to shame.”

Seamus’s chest is raw, his skin in strips. That’s all you see before you look away. 

“Do it,” You say. “And make it painful.”

Law coughs a laugh. “Feeling a little sadistic, are we?”

You arch an eyebrow. “People like him deserve it.” 

He hums and turns his attention back to Seamus, and you watch as a cube emerges from his chest. It floats into Law’s palm, and he gives it a little squeeze. He observes the body before him writhe in pain, but no noise escapes—Seamus’ soul is still in Seam after all. 

Law hums. “Not as satisfying.”

Clicking your tongue, you remove Seamus from your mindscape, and the room fills with shrieks. You wince, your shoulders raising to your ears. 

“Okay, we’re done,” You say, spinning and making a beeline for the stairs. “C’mon, Hachinosu is waiting for us.” 

Law shoves the heart into his coat and pries his eyes from his victim. 

— Scene 7 —

Your eye twitches as you watch a pirate sock Bepo in the face. You’ve been put on rest before the mission in Hachinosu. Law told you to save energy for it, so you follow his professional instructions. 

On the way to the drop-off point, a ship started bombing the submarine, hence why you’re cringing as Bepo takes another hit.

You stand on the deck of the Polar Tang while the Heart Pirates fight. They looked to be rookies when they attacked the Polar Tang, but you know not to underestimate rookies, especially since you’re a Straw Hat, so when Penguin joked that it was going to be an easy battle, you arched an eyebrow and shook your head. Oh, how wrong he was. 

Now, Penguin lays on the ground holding his arm. You’re sure it's broken. 

“Get up, Penguin!” You yell. “Thought this was gonna be easy! We’re in the New World!”

He whines, rolling on the dirt. “Shut up!”

An explosion rocks the submarine, and you teeter, making a sound of surprise. Your feet slide on the salty deck, waves from the impact crashing over the left side. Another cannonball lands not 20 feet away, and you start to panic. “Guys!” 

Law gave you strict orders to not use your power—ever the responsible doctor. But with how things are going, you’ll be breaking his rules. 

“Fire!” The voice is muffled by the waves, but you hear it. 

“Sew.”

Threads weave together before you until they form a giant sheet, into which the airborne cannonball falls. Using one of Luffy’s offensive techniques, you fling the bomb back toward the ship it came from. Cries and screams echo before it turns the deck to splinters. 

“Hey!” Law calls, his voice gruff. “I thought I told you not to use that.”

You turn to see him on the ground beneath the sub. “Sorry, my life was in danger.” 

“You’re never in danger,” Law quips. “Not with me around. Now, go inside.”

“Inside?” Your heart skips a beat. Not with me around.  

“You’re less likely to use your power,” He dodges an attack, his katana in his hands as he swipes at them. “Please, go.” 

Sighing, you follow his orders—but only because he said please. 

It’s not long before the rest of the crew piles inside. But you see Law holding something white and mangled instead of his proud smirk. You tug your eyebrows together and draw closer to him. 

“What’s that?” You ask warily, having a feeling you know. Considering his head is bare, his black tendrils standing on end, your heart drops. “Oh, Law.”

He sniffs. “Nothing to worry about. Just a hat.” 

You know he’s lying, but nod anyway and leave him. 

Bepo’s solemn face haunts you. He follows you around, not knowing what to do when his captain is heartbroken. 

“How’s your jaw?” You ask, remembering the punch. 

“Oh, I'm fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” 

You look over at Ikkaku, who still holds a grudge against you, but her gaze is softer than usual this time. 

You give her a smile—an olive branch, despite not doing anything to offend her other than being on the submarine, and bearing the values of your crew. She gives you one back, and you take it as an appreciation for using your power to save the Polar Tang from the cannonballs. Uni and Clione sit beside her with the same reluctant gratitude. You take it as a win. 

The more you think about it, the more the whole ship seems on edge. The crew’s footsteps are light, and the common area is not nearly as rowdy as usual. One wrong move and Law will crack. 

So, you take it upon yourself to be the first one to disturb him in his office. He’s been locked in there for hours, and since your bedroom is directly opposite, it only makes sense—at least that’s what you're telling yourself. 

You rap your knuckles on the door three times, slowly opening it after. “Law.”

The room is dark, and you hold your tongue when a joke surfaces in your mind. 

“I don’t want to talk right now.”

You step further in. “Are you okay?”

Law makes no sound. 

“If this is about your hat—”

“Leave me alone.” His voice is so broken that it hurts your chest. 

“I could fix it.”

He says your name softly. “Please, leave.” 

You swallow and nod once. “Of course… sorry for bothering you.” 

On your way out, you spot the cause of his distress sitting on the table. You clench your fists to resist the urge to take it, but the voice in your mind wins, and you snatch it. 

You rush from the room, and if Law sees you, he says nothing. 

When you get to your room, you lock the door behind you. The fur hat in your hands is covered in dirt and specks of blood, and it's utterly ruined. You curse at the state of it. 

You lay the pieces on your bed, figuring out how to piece them back together. It takes a few tries, but once you’ve got a design that works, you put your hand over the material. 

Immediately, the sections come together, forming a brim at the front instead of around the bottom like the original hat. It’s different, but you work with what you’ve got. 

You hold it in your hands once it’s formed and smile. Deep in your stomach, there’s an inkling of doubt that Law won’t accept it, but you hope he can appreciate the effort. 

—

You keep the hat to yourself for the night, not wanting to impose Law anymore. When the first sounds of the crew rising from their slumber wakes you, you’re quick to dash to the infirmary. Law’s in here every morning, and when you open the door, you’re not shocked to see him. What is jarring is the lack of his signature hat in the room—the one you’ve got under your arm. 

“Morning,” You greet, hiding the garment from his view. Law grunts, not bothering to look up from the paper he scribbles on. “I’ve got something for you.”

“If it’s one of Shachi’s new breakfast foods, I don’t want it.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’d never subject you to that.”

Law exhales a laugh. 

“This is far more important than that, anyway,” You walk up behind him. “Turn around.” 

He shakes his head. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, sweetheart. Can it wait?”

“Nope,” Smiling, you put your hand on his shoulder. Law sighs and glances at you. 

The look on his face is one you’ll never forget. 

“Wha–”

You suppress a giggle and shove the hat in his face. “I fixed it for you.” 

Law turns, his eyes wide. He takes the hat from your hands, the soft material delicate in his grip. He’s speechless. 

“I took it from your office last night, and I know I shouldn’t have, but you were so upset.” 

He shakes his head in disbelief. 

This lack of speech makes you nervous. “I know it’s not the same as it was before. There was no way I could salvage enough of it to do that, so now you have a brim. I think it looks cute, but—”

“Shut up.” 

You come up short, immediately closing your mouth. The infirmary falls silent, with you no longer rambling and Law standing there in shock, hearts in his eyes. 

“Law—”

“Thank you.”

His words have an underlying connotation; you just know it, and how he looks at you confirms it. 

You make a sound of surprise, your body freezing. You swear he can hear your heartbeat from how loud it is in your ears. “What?”

His gaze of adoration quickly fades when he sees your shock. He drops the hat on the trolley and turns back to his desk. “Are you hungry? I’m sure breakfast is ready.” 

You don’t know what he’s saying. You’re not listening. I love you, I love you. 

The tension between you is suffocating, weighing heavily on your chest. “Law.”

He lets out an awkward laugh, unsure what to say. 

“Look at me, Law.”

“I can’t,” He whispers. 

You tilt your head. “Why?”

“Because you don’t need to see me like this.”

“Like what?” Your tone grows hard. “Like you have feelings?”

He glares you. 

“You have a heart, Law. I see it every day,” You say. “So don’t pretend like you’re some cold, heartless man because you’re not.” 

When he doesn’t answer, you go on. “Do you need proof? I used to think you only picked me up in Sabaody because I was useful to you—”

“—you were—”

“—you wanted to help me, and you did. Because you’re kind, Law. You want to help people; otherwise, you wouldn’t try to kill the four emperors.” 

“And if I said it was purely selfish?” 

“I’d say you’re lying. Because despite this revenge plan you have for Doflamingo, you don’t want him hurting anyone else. You care for people.”

“Of course, I care for people,” Law snaps. “I wouldn’t be a doctor if I didn’t want to help others.” 

You shrug. “Need I say anymore?” 

“I’ve work to do.” Law murmurs, his eyes downcast and tongue in his cheek. 

You know when you’re being dismissed, so you hum and turn to leave, but not without noticing the tight grip he has on the fur hat. 

— Scene 8 —

Hijacking a ship is out of your expertise, especially a smuggling vessel. 

When you and Bepo spot the ship in the distance from the deck of the Polar Tang, its lights bright in the darkness, you immediately notify Law. 

“Are you sure it's the one?”

“Yes,” You groan. “Who else is out this far? Besides, there are no other ships around.”

Then, Hakugan directs the submarine toward the ship. 

Law shambles you and Bepo onto the vessel, where the pair of you are to distract someone and take control. It takes a while for you to remember what Law said as you and Bepo wander the ship. Somehow, you find yourself in the same place you started. The deck is empty, though there are lights on inside. 

“Where and to whom are we meant to do this again?”

Bepo shrugs. “I was too scared to listen.”

“Oh my g—”

“This way, Sir.”

You jump behind a pillar, pulling Bepo with you, though you doubt he's hidden. 

Behind you, several more footsteps approach, but this time, it's Shachi and Penguin with Uni, Clione, and Hakugan. 

“Captain and Hakugan have seized the control room,” Penguin says. “No thanks to you two.”

You gape. “Not my fault his instructions were shit.”

“This way, we have to protect Captain.” 

This way. You look back in the direction of the man who passed you before. Why would you call someone Sir on a smuggling vessel?

You keep your mouth shut for the moment, following Penguin to the control room. When you get there, there’s an unconscious man on the floor, and when you look at Law, he’s pressing buttons, ignoring the looks from Hakugan, who steers the ship. 

“Are we on course?”

Law side-eyes you as Hakugan answers. “Yes.” 

“I, uh,” You start, averting your eyes. “Had a question.”

“Out with it,” Law mumbles. 

The pirates around you listen in, curious. 

“Are there meant to be this many people on a smuggling vessel? Especially noble-like people?” 

Law’s head spins around, his eyes dark. “What?”

“This guy was leading another guy somewhere, and he called him Sir,” You bite your lip. “I was just wondering if that’s normal for a —”

“Fuck,” Law curses loudly. “You imbeciles, this is a passenger ship.” 

Bepo gasps, looking faint. “Oh, we really messed up.” 

Your jaw falls open, and Bepo grabs you, wrapping his arms around you. “Take me to your dreamland. I can’t be here.” 

“Where did you see these people?” 

“Umm, back down on the main deck.”

Law grits his teeth. “You said this was the ship.”

“To be fair, it’s dark, and this ship was far—”

He pushes past you and out the door. The control room is quiet, save for Bepo’s whimpers. The familiar zip of shambles sounds outside before Law reenters. 

“We’re heading for Hachinosu already.” 

“That’s good, right?” 

“Yes, Bepo,” Law mumbles, leaning over the control panel. “We’ll be there much earlier than expected.” 

“Why don’t you sound happy about that?” You are hesitant to ask. 

“Because,” He turns to look at you directly. “The king and nobles of Hachinosu are on this ship.” 

Bepo almost drops to the ground, Penguin shoving himself under the mink’s arm. “You’re kidding me.” 

“We’ll have to lay low,” Law addresses his crew. “Draw no attention to yourself, and don’t tell anyone who you are. Understood?” 

Yes, captain. 

Law rubs his forehead, mumbling curse words to himself. 

He says your name. “I know this is a big favour to ask, but is there any way you could create casual clothes for the crew? I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t absolutely necessary, but knowing this crew…”

“How long until we reach the island?” 

“One day.” 

You purse your lips. “Give me two hours.”

—

Two hours is enough time for you but too much for the rest of the crew. As you finish the last garment, Penguin’s pants, there’s a sudden scream from below the main deck. 

Law inhales sharply, his jaw set. “If that’s—”

“Shachi, this is your fault,” You hear Penguin through the door of the control room. You glance at Law, whose eyes narrow. “Fuck, run.”  

Hakugan, Uni, and Clione burst through the door, Penguin, Jean-Bart, and Shachi close behind them. Law holds his tongue, anger simmering in his gaze. 

The door slams shut, and the rumbling of voices outside increases. 

“Don’t tell me you did what I told you not to do.”

Shachi grimaces. “We didn’t do it on purpose, Captain…”

“Morons, the lot of you,” Law snaps. “If the King of Hachinosu knows we’re here, he knows why we’re here, and he won’t stop until all of us are dead, got it?” 

Penguin gulps. “What do we do?” 

“Pirates!” 

Law groans with frustration. “Room and Shambles.” 

You hit the deck, literally. You’re outside, and the chaos of the passengers is on the other side of the ship. Bepo moans in pain beside you, and Law stands in the middle of his crew. 

“Stay here, and don’t make a sound.” He flicks his fingers again, and then he’s gone. 

Penguin sighs, rubbing his head. “He made that hurt on purpose.” 

Shachi hums in agreement, and you roll your eyes. 

“Maybe if you two weren’t so loud, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Bepo mumbles, glaring at his best friends.

“Says you! We can’t go a day without hearing you whine,” Shachi quips.

Bepo makes a sound of indignation. “That really hurts me, you know that?” 

“Yeah, well—”

“Stop,” You whisper, noticing a presence nearby. The crew freezes, and Bepo turns to you, terror morphing his features. 

“Sew.” 

“Argh!”

You push yourself up, walking directly to where your threads caught someone. A man in his late 30s resists Sew's hold on him. 

“You dirty pirate! Get this off me!”

You stare at him. He’s dressed fairly well, with a white suit and gold accents. A noble. 

“Hey! I see you! Get away from me!” 

Pursing your lips, you decide what to do. In his hand, obscured by the long train of his jacket tail, is a handgun. 

“Hey—” You throw your hand up, wrapping threads around his mouth in case he draws attention. 

He screams against the cotton, his finger squeezing the trigger of his gun. You duck, and the bullet flies off the metal railing. Still, you remain silent. 

You hear Bepo call your name and wince. Now, this guy knows who you are. 

The man’s eyes widen, and he starts tugging his arms, his gun tumbling to the deck in his struggle. He cries out when he sees it close to your feet. 

You tilt your head, considering him and your plan of action. He did just try to shoot you. 

He knows your name, who you are, and what you’re doing on the ship (if he knows about the Poneglyph on Hachinosu). 

You toss up your options. On one hand, he is a civilian. On the other, he knows that it were you on the ship tonight, subduing him. Who knows what the newspaper will write about you if that gets out. You hurt innocent civilians? 

Nothing about this man is innocent, that’s a fact, but standing here, staring at him, you don’t know what to do. 

It isn’t until you hear Law ask where you are back with the crew that you release a breath. Law comes over, his eyebrows tugged together. 

“What’s up with this guy?” 

“I don’t know what to do with him.” 

The man cries, tears running down his cheeks and over the threads covering his mouth. Law frowns. 

“Why don’t I just take his heart and be done with it? He’s a pirate himself.” 

You give the man a once over, still processing what just happened. “He shot at me.” 

Law eyes go cold as he cocks his head, regarding the noble with indifference. “This will only hurt a little.” 

You watch as he uses Scalpel, the man’s heart sliding from his chest. He passes out. 

Law turns back to you, shoving the heart into his coat. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” You nod. “Just didn’t know what to do.” 

“That’s okay. You did good nonetheless.” And then he wraps his fingers around your hand to whisk you away. 

“Wait,” You exhale, looking back at the man’s unconscious body. “There.” 

A piece of paper sticks out of his pants pocket. It’s small, only half the size of a normal map, but you rush over to it. Unfolding it, you recognise the style. 

“Law.”

As he approaches, his boots click on the deck, peering over your shoulder. “What is that?”

“A map,” You whisper, turning it around to get a better angle of the island it represents. “If this is Hachinosu…” 

“It could be where the Poneglyph is,” Law mumbles, pointing to the skull in the middle of the paper. “But why would a noble have access to this?” 

You shrug. “Maybe it’s a part of their plan. I mean, he did come out here alone…” 

Law hums with consideration, his gaze flickering to yours. There’s a glimmer of something behind his usual icy front, and you’re lucky you’re close enough to see it.

“You’re right. We’ll take it anyway, but be careful tomorrow. Who knows what they’ve got planned for when we arrive.” 

— Scene 9 —

The crick in your back flares, as you hurry off the ship—sleeping upright in the control room is taking its toll on you. After Law took the noble’s heart, you and the crew were sent to the control room to sleep. Law said he took care of the remainder of the passengers… whatever that meant. 

Law isn’t far behind you, but the rest of the crew is already on the island, fighting off pirates. 

Now, you’re to find the site of the rumoured Poneglyph in the middle of the island. You take a different route to everyone else in case anyone is seized. With the map from the noble clutched in your fist, you run. 

“Go left! I’ll take the right.”

Nodding, you veer toward the large building on the port, hand out to summon threads to restrain the men running at you. Their swords slash at the strings, but you’re gone before they free themselves. 

An explosion makes you stumble as you enter a warehouse, men with guns pointed at you the moment you step inside. “Seam.”

The eyes of the gunmen immediately go dazed, and they lower their guns involuntarily—you can feel the addition of them to your mindscape. Fifteen. You gasp at the fact that it actually works. 

Seam has evolved. You’ve only used it once, summoned the ability without physically touching someone, and it was shoddy at best. What you did now was a shot in the dark. There’s no way you knew it would work. 

But you don’t dwell on it when you run through the building and out the other side into an alleyway. Someone screams at the sight of you before gunshots ring through the street. 

You duck, taking a sharp right into another warehouse, this one empty. The outside sounds: bombs ticking and exploding, cannonballs, yells and cries, and swords on swords are muffled inside here. You tiptoe through, checking behind doors and peering around corners before advancing. 

There’s no missing the giant pirate skull in the island's centre, your target when you emerge. The map in your hand becomes useless when you notice the behemoth landmark. Who needs a map when you can see the thing everywhere in the city? 

Stepping out of the warehouse, the area before you is full of Heart Pirates on resident pirates, fighting mercilessly with swords, fists, and guns. Swallowing your nervous pants, you aim a thread around a pirate sneaking up behind Clione, who’s already engaged in a fight. The man gags as you pull him backward, your face becoming a scowl when you look at him. 

“Going for a man’s back is cowardly,” You say, ignoring how the man spits at you. 

“You stupid bitch, get off me.” 

Clenching your jaw, you throw him against the wall and string him up. His knife clatters to the cobblestones, and you leave him there—Law’s crew is important to him, like hell you’re going to let someone hurt them. 

You turn, dodging a fist flying at your face. Making a sound of surprise, you sweep your leg out, catching the man off guard. He goes down, groaning in pain. 

“Marines!”

You feel your heart drop into your stomach. Whipping around, you don’t see the familiar white and blue uniform, and you’re not going to. You run away from the port, many resident pirates scattering into the side streets and yelling the same warning. 

Why are the Marines here? And how’d they get here so quickly?

You hear your name being called, the sound echoing. Bepo stands there, his arms full of beige woven bags—the stolen hearts. Your eyes widen at the number he carries already. 

“Go right! There’s a road that leads straight there.”

Smiling, you thank Bepo and follow his directions. Your eyebrows tug together when you recall the hearts. There had to be at least thirty, and who knows how many trips Bepo has already made to the passenger vessel. 

Shaking your head, you direct your brain to your target—the Poneglyph. You can’t read them; only one person can, and you miss her like crazy. She’d be able to understand it and relay the knowledge to you because there’s no way she’d tell Law about it at this point in time. 

You wish Robin could hear you now, wherever she is. 

Your path to the middle is easy after transporting twenty-eight more pirate souls into Seam. You manage to dodge all but one nasty punch to the cheek but get shot in the shoulder after purposefully instigating a pirate (not your best idea, but he was insulting the very existence of Luffy, something you’d never stand for). 

You know Law will give you an earful when he sees you next. 

The lead bullet is lodged in your muscle, and the bleeding is staunched thanks to the ripped hem of your t-shirt. You could have made a bandage using Sew, but your Devil Fruit powers dwindle with every passing second—if a pirate were to attack you now, you couldn’t fight them off.

The dizziness and ringing in your ears are almost unbearable, though you’re unsure if the ringing is from the punch or the way you hit your head when you fell from the impact of the bullet—you’re positive Law won’t care where it came from, just the fact that both of those things happened to you. 

You blink away the stars in your vision and cough. The wound is itchy, and you resist the urge to dig your fingers into the hole and rip the bullet out yourself. The injury, paired with the pirate souls in Seam, is taking a toll on you. 

“Fuck,” You pant, pausing to lean against a palm tree. Peering down at your shoulder, you almost faint at the amount of blood that has soaked through your makeshift bandage. When you inhale, your head gets lighter, so you choose to keep your breaths short. 

You can feel your head drooping, but push off the tree to continue. Gone are the cobblestones, and in their place is dirt. Pressing your palm on your wound, you wince and think against doing it again. You remember Law telling you to put pressure on injuries like this, but you don’t think you can—you’re going to pass out from the pain. 

Blood drips onto the sandy dirt beneath your feet, and the scorching sun strengthens the metallic scent. Your skin burns under the same heat, and you fear you won’t make it to the Poneglyph at this rate. 

Up ahead, you hear the clang of swords. You whine, knowing that you won’t be able to fight someone with a weapon in this condition. So, you hurry down a barren alleyway, the cool air of the shadows allowing you some relief. You stumble but catch yourself on the wall. 

Sure, you’ve had bullet wounds in the past, namely in Alabasta, but it felt nothing like this. With a few deep breaths, you feel no different. If only Chopper were here, with his panicked assessments and swift procedures, you would be scolded but fixed up quickly. Usopp’s chaotic, anxiety-ridden laughter echoes in your ears, and you shake your head to rid your mind of memories. 

Another person’s presence, one not far away, weighs heavily on you. 

“Law…” There’s no use calling for him. He’s on the other side of the island. You know this, yet do it again. You wish you had the baby transponder snail he gave you on that island, the one with the fur hat like Law’s. An involuntary giggle escapes your lips. 

You can die without telling him— The souls in Seam wage war inside your mind, and all the yelling and screaming causes a sharp pain to throb behind your eye. “Shut up.” 

Going into your mindscape now would be foolish. You’d waste your available energy and pass out right here without fulfilling Law’s request—check the giant skull for the Poneglyph. It would kill you to disappoint him. 

You stagger out of the street; the sound of metal clanging and scraping is gone. Panting, you walk up the main road, the denser trees making it difficult to locate the entrance of the skull. 

With bloody hands, you push back stray hairs that stick to your forehead with sweat. The world around you gets fuzzy, but Law’s averted eyes and fake smile force you to go on. You knew the plan going into this, and if you were to disappoint him—you’ve already thought about this. 

You rub your eyes with your knuckles, squeezing your cheeks after to feel something in your face. When did your face start getting numb?

Faces pop into your head: Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Sanji, Nami, Chopper, Robin, Franky, Brook… and you cry at the thought that you could leave them wondering what happened to you. Your stomach churns at the mere inkling that, at a time like this, a time when death rears his ugly head inside you, you have failed your family. You failed to stay alive. 

“I’m sorry,” You slur, your face sticky with tears and blood. “I love you.”

An explosion rattles the ground, and your mind is back on the situation. Your tongue moves around your mouth hopelessly, trying to form the one name you need, the one that will help you without a second thought, the one you—

Slurring Law’s name, you no longer feel your feet beneath you, but instead the ground on your cheek. You didn’t feel the impact. Dirt clumps with sticky blood, and you feel your body relax. It’s nice to finally lie down. 

You’ll wait here for Law. He’ll come and find you. He has to. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, but you wear a smile. Law, Law, Law. 

— Scene 10 —

You wake, though you don’t open your eyes. 

Law knows you’re awake, and you know he knows this, yet neither of you says a word. 

There’s no pain in your shoulder when you shift, finding yourself on your back, and you could cry at the mere thought that he found you. 

It isn’t until a tear drips from the corner of your eye into your ear that Law speaks up. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” His voice is soft, but you sense the malice in this timbre. 

One drips into your other ear. It’s a steady stream of salty water that soon turns into sobs, ones that rack your shoulders and burn your chest. A sensation you haven’t felt since you found Luffy in the forest on Amazon Lily. 

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, your voice breaking. Law makes no sound. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no sense of self-preservation.” 

He’s mad. 

“Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if I hadn’t found you? If I hadn’t returned to the ship and realised you were taking much longer than planned? Fuck, you were minutes away from death.”

You sniffle, hiccuping. “I’m sorry.”

Law sighs hashly. “I know you are. Stop saying it.” 

Opening your eyes, you’re met with the ceiling. The same ceiling you woke up to on your first time here, and the one that keeps seeing you fall apart. 

“Law…” You peer over at him, your tears increasing when you see him sitting so close to the bed. You’re so happy to see him. “I was so scared.” 

You can hear him swallow from where you lay, his jaw set and gaze averted. You smile when you see his expression—you called it. 

“I knew you’d look like this.” The laugh you let out is rough, your throat raw. “You were the last thing I thought of.”

Law shakes his head and stands, giving you his back. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“I kept thinking about how disappointed you’d be that I didn’t get to the skull, that I didn’t find the Poneglyph—”

“I don’t care about the Poneglyph!” He spins around so quickly you barely see it. “I care about you!” 

Your bottom lip quivers and more tears roll down your cheeks. You wait for him to continue, too shocked to speak. 

“Do you know how close I was to losing it when I had to take that bullet out of you?” He yells. “When I found out it was poisoned? When I had to extract the poison from your body?” 

“I didn’t know it was poisoned.”

“Of course you didn't,” He laughs bitterly. “You were too busy dying to know.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry.”��

“You’ve been in that bed, unconscious for eight days,” Law says your name with such pain that when your eyes focus on his face again, you see his glassy eyes. “You had ninety-four souls in Seam. How did you do that?”

Ninety-four… 

“What?” You ask before realising what he’s saying, not even comprehending the fact you were unconscious for eight days. “How can you see inside Seam?”

“That’s not important—”

“It is! Tell me.”

Law sighs. “I can move incorporeal things, like souls; it’s how I switch people between bodies,” He explains. You store that little morsel of information for later, but now, you’re more fascinated with the fact that he can see your mindscape. “You had a lot of souls inside you. I can’t see into Seam, just the presence of these souls. But are you crazy? Ninety-four? That wouldn’t have helped with your injury. I’m surprised you didn’t pass out before you got shot.”

Law’s rambling and you fear he may start to spiral if he hasn’t already. 

You let out a weak sound. “Law…”

“Fuck,” He curses. “I’ve never prayed to a god until I saw you on the ground, bleeding out. You terrified me.” 

You’re going to be sick. You forget about Seam and try to push yourself up but quickly collapse when you lean on the wrong arm because what does he mean by that?

He’s at war with himself as runs his hands through his hair. “Why would you not come back to the ship when you got shot?” 

“Because I had to get to the Poneglyph for you.” 

Law scoffs, though the sound is not nearly as daunting as it normally is; instead, it’s sad. “Don’t you dare put your life in danger for me.” 

It’s your turn to scoff, and you finally get the strength to sit up. “Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“When it’s for my sake, then yes, I can. I’m not worth your pain or your death.” 

You swing your legs out of the bed, standing on shaky knees. 

Law’s eyes widen slightly. “Lay back down; you’re going to fall.”

“No,” You say, pointing your finger into his chest. “Don’t tell me what to do. Listen to me.” 

Law purses his lips, his eyes flickering down to where you jab him with your index finger. 

“You’re my crew, okay?” You know it sounds pathetic, but Law makes no move to ridicule you. “And I’d do anything for the people I love, even if that requires me to put my life in danger. So don’t stand there and tell me you’re not worth it when you mean more to me than you can imagine.” 

“That’s foolish,” Law whispers. Your thumping heart stops, and when you look up at him, a single tear runs down his cheek. You reach up to wipe it away, your thumb soft on his skin. You keep your hand on his cheek. 

“I’d do it a hundred times if it would help you reach your goal.”

Law swallows thickly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t found you one time, let alone a hundred times.” 

“You would’ve gone on with your crew and defeated all four Emperors and Doflamingo. I’m just someone you picked up on a whim.”

You know it’s a lie. 

Law chokes on a laugh, though there’s no humour. 

“You know that’s not true,” He spits. “I can’t do this without you knowing I know what it feels like with you. I hope you know that.” 

“Law…”

“I care for you,” Law mumbles, his tone harsh while he presses your palm to his cheek. “I can’t lose you, too, which is why you can’t keep putting yourself in these positions.”

There’s far more to this than you know, and it breaks your heart to find out he’s been through this before. 

“You’ve made this hell worth it. Everything I’ve done until now has brought me to you, and I’ll be damned if I let you hurt yourself to keep me happy, okay?”

You curse yourself when you start crying again. You can’t pinpoint when the ringing in your ears started, but it makes the world tilt. Laughter spills out of you unwillingly.

Law scowls, his vulnerable expression turning cold. He’s about to push you away. “I’m not talking to you if you’re going to mock me. I know I’m a heartless bastard, but I’m not joking.” 

You pull him back to you with your good arm. “Why would I mock you? Come here, you idiot.”

He stares at you a little longer, his hand resting on your cheek. Law’s gorgeous; you’ve known this since you first laid eyes on him. But seeing him so vulnerable flips a switch inside you. It’s gentle, the kiss you press to his cheek, and it’s pink, the blush high on his cheekbones. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” You say. “I’ll remain with you until you want me gone.”

“I’ll never want you gone,” He whispers, and your heart breaks. You smile, tears rolling into your mouth.

“Kiss me,” You say, reaching for him. Law meets you halfway, his other hand on your cheek as he brings his lips to yours. 

The first peck is cautious, and Law runs his tongue along his bottom lip while you wrap your hands around his neck, pulling his chest flush against yours. Your shoulder is numb, and it’s probably for the best that Law forgets about your injury when, with red cheeks and a hell of a lot more confidence, he kisses you again. 

“You know what this means?” Law whispers against your mouth, your salty tears mixing together. 

You exhale through your nose, your fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck before they slide higher, your hands gripping larger chunks. “What?”

He leans in for another kiss, this one lasting longer than the previous, and when you pull away, he chases after you. Law looks at you, his eyes smiling and half-lidded with desire. 

He brings you closer to him, his fingers brushing stray hairs away from your face. You giggle, pressing your lips to his cheeks and chin as he admires you. 

“It means,” Another peck. “That you’re my crew, too.”

“Shut up.” You exhale a laugh and shake your head.

Your lips glide over his, and both of your lips slightly chapped. You smile with giddiness, your teeth lightly knocking Law’s. 

“Quit smiling so much,” He mumbles, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

You don’t apologise. “I’m so happy.” 

Law drops his head to lean his forehead against yours. “Yeah, me too.” 

“I’m sorry about what I did,” You say, pushing the hair on his forehead back. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry for making you worry.” 

“I’ll always worry about you,” Law presses his mouth to your forehead before moving his hands down to the sides of your neck. “No use telling me not to.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry.”

You catch yourself before you do it again. 

Law wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You close your eyes, tightening your hold. His heart pounds underneath your ear, and he trembles softly. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

Taglist:

@fandomhoe101 / @valen-yamyam16 / @chibinasuu / @xsuvs / @curiositycoven64 / @chillerkiller / @loserbee14 / @theloserqueen / @meritxellao / @mirtiell / @dreamistsblog

I think this is everyone! If I missed you, and/or you want to be notified when Act III is posted, please comment below or send me an ask!!

[pastryfication]

it’s hard … and i hate this part

pairing: logan sargeant x reader note: i really hope he has someone to lean on for comfort right now.

you got the call on the way home from work. you were in a good mood, skipping along as you listened to music while slowly nearing the building in which your apartment was located.

or well, you were in a good mood until you heard his voice.

logan was a calm person. so incredibly calm and controlled, good at keeping his feelings at bay, burrowing them behind a thick protective wall. but in that moment, as he told you the news, his voice was shaking with sobs. terrible, soul wrecking sobs, that crushed your heart in an indescribable way.

as you almost ran the last meters towards your home. your head was pounding, your heart was beating away at an unusually fast pace, and your entire body tingled as a lump formed in your throat, almost breaking down your calm exterior.

it took you a full minute to get the key to fit in the door, your hands shaking as you pushed the phone against your ear. you refused to hang up before he was within your reach.

you pushed open the door with a never before seen enthusiasm, completely neglecting to put away your things as you practically ran towards where you knew he would be.

and there, nestled in your cozy sofa, was your boyfriend. your boyfriend who had just received the news he had been fearing for so long. the news he knew were inevitable. the news he thought he would be able to avoid for at least a few months.

his eyes were red and puffy. there were no tears falling, but it was clear that a waterfall was close to brimming over again soon. he took one look at you and immediately held out his arms. you didn’t hesitate for even a moment.

taking the last step towards him and taking him into your arms was all you longed to do. so you did exactly that, wrapping your arms around his frame as good as you could while he burrowed his face into your chest, inhaling the comforting scent of you.

you stood there for a moment, relishing in the feeling of each others company before logan broke the silence.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost inaudible, but you picked it up immediately.

“what?!” you pulled back to look at him, capturing his face between your hands when he wouln’t meet your eyes. “baby, why are you sorry? you have nothing to be sorry for.”

he didn’t answer immediately, instead taking his bottom lip between his teeth as his teary eyes met yours in an eye contact so intimate that it was almost too much.

“logan, my love.” your thump gently caressed his cheek as you started talking, your voice a soft, soothing balm to his inner turmoil. “i hope you know that you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. you’re allowed to be upset. what the team has done to you is absolutely not fair. the race you drove in zandvoort was amazing—just like so many of your other performances this season has been.

“they gave you nothing to work with, and still, they expected you to achieve the unachievable. that’s not fair. you have been so loyal to the team—more than they deserve—and still, they treat you like this. you’re not the one who should be sorry. williams are. please tell me you understand that.”

his eyes glazed over even further at your short speech, the emotions clear on his face as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

a lump was quickly forming in his throat, but this time, it didn’t feel as all-consuming as when he was alone. his voice failed him when he tried to answer you, so instead, you only got a nod. but that was fine. that was enough.

and as he cuddled even closer to you, pulling you down on the couch with him so he could be completely wrapped up in your arms, you felt the weight on your chest lifting slightly too.

this whole ordeal would definitely leave some scars on logan—and on you as well—and they might never heal completely, but you had each other. and you’ll always have each other.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Just a cute, fluffy fic from Wayne's pov

💞

"Hey Wayne, how do you know you're in love?" Eddie asks him as they eat dinner that night. Wayne nearly choked on the pasta he was eating but covered himself by gulping down some coffee.

Shit, he needs something a little stronger for this, like when he had the talk with Eddie a few years ago, that was awkward as hell for the both of them.

Fortunately for Wayne's heart, Eddie kept his love life a secret. There were a couple people that weren't serious, but that's as far as Wayne knew. Eddie asking about love, though? This was new.

"I haven't got time for falling in love, Uncle Wayne, I have way too much shit to worry about, and it's a bunch of bullshit anyway", were the words of Eddie just a year ago.

Wayne knew his nephew craved love but at the same time viewed it cynically, so whoever this person was must be special to change his views.

"Why'd you ask boy?" Eddie's cheeks turn pink and he shrugs, gulps down the warm coffee and almost scalds his tongue. "Ahh shit!" his eyes widen when there's a knock on the trailer door, and Wayne gets up to answer it; he knows who it is even before he answers.

You're standing on the step, a D&D book tucked under your arm, smiling at Wayne with just a little bit of shyness this time which was an improvement.

You hurry inside and tell Eddie you'll set the books up in his room.

For six months, you'd been visiting the new trailer (all paid for by the government, so no questions were asked about the old one), and it took a while for you to relax around him; now that you did, it was like your second home and Wayne was used to you being here.

You had been visiting on your own, but sometimes with Harrington and Dustin, Wayne doesn't know what went on during Spring Break, just that Eddie was injured during the earthquake, and you were there for him every step of the way.

His wounds had healed but left scars, and sometimes Eddie woke up screaming after horrendous nightmares, not when you were around, though. When you were around it helped Eddie, helped the both of you work towards healing.

The fact that both of you were obviously falling head over heels in love with each other, is something that Wayne has kept quiet about, waiting until Eddie approached him about it.

Today was the day.

Wayne smiles gruffly. "This about your girl?" he nods to you as you head into Eddie's room and Eddie's cheeks darken even more.

"Yeah, yeah it is. She's amazing, isn't she, Wayne?" he enthuses; I just wanted to ask. How do you know it's love? I mean shit, I uh look at her, and she feels like home, and I don't want to be with anyone else ever; I feel like I can be myself around her, and she'd never judge me; she makes me tongue-tied and my heart races and she's so distracting and I... I'm in love with her" he sighs content then looks up at Wayne panicked.

"Shit, I don't even know if she feels the same?" Wayne sighs, he adores his nephew, but the boy is completely oblivious at times.

"Son, she looks at you like you hung the moon so why don't you quit horsing around and ask her out" Eddie looks like all of his Christmases have come at once.

"You really think so?" He asks hopefully and his eyes light up when Wayne nods. "Maybe I will talk to her then" Wayne then proceeds to watch his nephew practically melt at the sight of you; that was something that so very rarely happened with Eddie, so he was completely smitten.

Here's hoping that he did pluck up the courage to talk to you.

❤️

It's late when Wayne comes home from work; the TV is on, so Eddie is still up, and Wayne would bet that you're here too.

Wayne sees the two of you giggling together, holding hands and exchanging kisses, there's a big soppy smile on Eddie's face and he only has eyes for you.

About damn time. Also, Hopper owes him a glass of his best scotch so he will make sure to collect that too.

💞

[3mcwriting]

three simple words

soft!bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

tw: cursing, blood, pain (not too much? also it has a happy ending dw)

It took him two years to figure out.

In the midst of the villain attacks, the war, and general chaos of his first year at UA, Bakugou Katsuki was focused on conflicts just slightly more important than whatever stupid fucking feelings and stupid shitty butterflies kept invading whenever you smiled in his direction.

So yeah, he didn't realize in his first year.

Even when you sat with him, silent and still, as he raged, as he screamed into the night sky, and eventually, as he grieved that the world's greatest Hero was gone, gone, gone--and it was his fault--even then, he did not realize.

He knew you cared.

You had never bothered to hide it.

But when you said good night to him that night, looking moments away from hugging him and dammit, why did you look so upset?, he was the one to reach out.

It was impulsive and sentimental and fucking embarrassing--but he didn't regret it. Not when you wrapped your arms around him, not when you whispered something akin to "I got you, Katsuki" despite the fact that you were just some shitty extra, what made you think you could call him Katsuki? Who were you to say something so sentimental and mushy to him?

But he did not regret it the next day when he saw you and you smiled at him.

The year went by, the villains came and went, the scars piled up.

His classmates had aged in that time, in those months of fear, of chaos, of loss, and of pain.

You did not grow closer.

Bakugou spoke with you only twice in that year outside of the heat of battle. Sure, there was always an acknowledgement of his presence when you saw him, but for the most part, you kept to yourself.

But time passed, and that night where you held him while his world fell apart began to fade, softly, slowly, like a dream from his childhood. Even if some days he looked at you and swore that his stupid heart had fucking stopped, he didn't speak with you again.

Not until you almost died for him, that is.

It was a big fight. He couldn't remember much of that day, one of his classmates telling him that it could have been because of the trauma. That his mind was trying not to remember what happened to protect him.

He scoffed when he heard it.

Trauma? Protect him?

Bakugou Katsuki was stronger than all of that.

But even as he scoffed at such words, he knew something had happened.

Yes, he didn't remember much of that day, but he remembered how it ended.

He remembered the way you looked as you were dying.

He remembered the blood, the pain, all of it.

And most of all, he remembered that stupid smile you had on your lips, glistening like a ruby with the blood that was falling from them.

"I got you, Katsuki."

He knew you had done it to save him.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't supposed to happen.

He was supposed to be the one broken and bleeding out.

Bakugou was there when you woke up, weeks later. You had been put in a medically-induced coma as the doctors healed you. They said you'd been seconds from death. All he knew was that he didn't see your eyes or your smile for a long time, and that he would've done just about anything to change that.

The day you woke up he cried.

Not in front of you.

No, he hadn't become quite that pathetic.

Your eyes were droopy, you still looked utterly exhausted and he knew he should just let you rest.

"Why would you do something so fucking stupid?"

His voice was harsh in the quiet room, broken as your body on that day, and nearly as pain filled. You didn't say anything about the vulnerability in it.

"What else would I do?"

"Let me fight my own battles. Look at yourself. You weren't- It could've been different."

You knew there was more to it, he could tell. It wasn't his pride that had kept him at your bedside in all this time.

"I wouldn't change it, Katsuki."

When he went to bed that night, he fell asleep on a damp pillow.

And so time passed.

You recovered.

He stayed away.

In his second year, he continued training, working, becoming the best. He was strength, power, and rage--he was Bakugou Katsuki.

And all it took was one look from you for his brain to stop working.

He watched from afar as you recovered, as you became stronger by the day. Slowly and painfully, you remade yourself. And you became someone even better than before.

You opened up, and by the time you were cleared to train like normal, you had a class full of friends and a near permanent smile.

You even tried to talk to him more.

Every time you approached, he scowled, but the moment you smiled at him, he was lost once again.

You'd ask him to hangout, ask him if he wanted any help on homework, if he wanted to study together, "oh did you see that new ramen shop that opened up? we should go!", and he said no every time.

But he still trained with you the most out of everyone, watching how strong you'd become, and feeling a tightness in his chest whenever he saw one of the scars you'd gathered the day you saved him. He didn't know how, but you seemed to understand him better than anyone.

It took you getting a boyfriend for him to understand himself.

All those times his breathing stuttered or his heart stopped, or whatever stupid ass thing happened when you smiled, he ignored.

He ignored it until you kissed Shinsou Hitoshi in the hallway of the dorms.

It was light, nothing more than a peck on the lips really, but the moment he saw, he felt as if he'd been punched in the fucking chest by stupid Deku. You didn't see his retreating figure.

When he was back in his room, he clutched his chest.

He'd never felt pain quite like that before.

When he didn't come out for dinner and no one had seen him at breakfast the next day, Kirishima stopped by.

"Bro, are you okay?" Kirishima's concerned voice came through the door. "I'm coming in, don't be naked."

"I'm not naked, dumbass," Bakugou said, no real heat in his voice.

His room was dark, the curtains drawn. When Kirishima turned on the light, Bakugou barely reacted.

"What's wrong?" There was no mocking in Kiri's voice, nothing but concern when he saw how listless his best friend was.

"I think I fucked up."

"What do you mean?"

I think I love her.

He hadn't told Kirishima that at the time, but somehow the fucker figured it out anyway.

Bakugou's third year rolled around.

And he stopped sabotaging himself. He stopped being a fucking coward and rejecting your attempts at friendship, he stopped acting like a moody little emo shit, and he finally became your friend.

Although that word never felt right to him.

Not because he was in love with you, although that probably didn't help, but because since the moment you hugged him during first year, you had become something more than just a friend.

He didn't change too much outwardly. He still yelled. He still cussed. He still fucked up villains.

But he also helped Denki study for his classes, he trained with Deku of his own volition, and he maybe even once or twice told Kirishima that he was his best friend.

And he also fell deeper in love with you.

He also realized that being stupid about your relationship with Shinsou wasn't worth pushing you away as a friend.

It wasn't easy, though.

He was a jealous, angry ass bastard, scared of the power you had over him and the depth of his feelings.

But lashing out didn't make him feel any better.

(Still, when you broke up with that purple-haired bastard in the beginning of third year, he smiled all day)

You'd said something about the relationship being nothing more than puppy love, that it was fun and Shinsou was a wonderful person, but that you and him both agreed to simply be friends instead.

All Bakugou focused on was that you were happy, whats-his-face was no longer your boyfriend, and that you were smiling at him.

"Hey, Bakubro! You should totally ask her out, dude," Kirishima had an entirely too bright grin on his face.

Bakugou, finally feeling as if he had a chance, didn't even tell him to shut up. He did, however, immediately begin thinking about what shit you'd like to do on a date.

The only problem was that Bakugou had no fucking experience with romance.

Even that fucker Deku had a boyfriend.

But one night he woke up to a knock on his door.

"Hey, Katsuki." Your voice stopped him from yelling 'Piss off!' for waking him up.

Instead, he grabbed a shirt and pulled it on before going to the door.

"What're you doing? It's three in the morning." He was wide awake for you, but he wanted to know why. If it was anyone else, there would've been at least three expletives thrown into those sentences, but even woken up in the middle of the night, his voice was soft for you.

"I know, I just wanted to show you something." He was glad it was dark because the sincerity and excitement of your words made red craw up his face.

"I, uh, just give me a couple minutes," Bakugou was nawt going to hang out with you with sleep breath.

"Oh, yeah, I'll wait."

Bakugou went to the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth before putting on some clean sweats and shirt.

"Are you ready?" You were whispering, but he could still hear the excitement in your voice. He was about to respond when you grabbed his hand, interlacing your fingers. Any response stalled in his throat.

You brought him to the quad outside the dorms and finally stopped in front of a couple things that looked something like--where the hell did you get fireworks?

"Are you ready, Katsuki?" you asked, mischief making your eyes glow.

He cracked a smile. "The hell did you setup?"

"Just a couple of little fireworks. Hatsume made them for me." The grin on your face was straight up devious and he had never had a stronger urge to kiss you then he did at that moment. "Wanna light them with me?"

If it was with you, then yes.

So the two of you lit the fireworks and as you stepped back, you grabbed his hand again, holding it while you watched. Katsuki couldn't help but watch you as the fireworks went. Lights bathed his surroundings, throwing blue and red and countless other colors around, but all he could focus on was you.

"Hey, I wanted you to watch them," you said, looking at him. "They're for you."

And that statement made him blush hard enough that he immediately turned his face to the sky so you wouldn't see. But it didn't last long. As the last firework went up, he turned his face to look at you.

And he found you looking back.

"I think I might be in love with you," you said softly, something akin to awe in your eyes, but nothing less than complete sincerity in your voice.

Bakugou couldn't think for a second. All he knew was that you were here, you brought these fireworks for him, you comforted him on the worst night of his life, you nearly died to save his life, and that you might love him.

"For the last two years, I've started and ended each day with the thought of you." Katsuki's words shocked himself, but he couldn't regret it. "I don't know what it's like anymore, to not be in love with you. And I don't want to know.

You stepped closer, eyes wide. "Do you mean it?"

"I don't say shit I don't mean," he said, the nerves finally coming.

And you kissed him.

When it was over, he mumbled something against your lips.

"I got you."

~

"WHO IS SETTING OFF FIREWORKS AT THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING?"

i wrote this for funsies and finished it in one sitdown, hope u all liked it!

[cringe--is--dead]

Can I request headcanon of Jason Todd/Red Hood (Under the Red Hood movie) being with fem s/o who can magically heal just about anything no matter how severe the wounds are and how deadly the diseases, but she can't heal herself; she is serene, gentle and soft spoken please?

I think Jason Todd deserves the world, so yes, I shall! Thank you for the request!

You Playing Doctor Now? Jason Todd x Meta!Reader

The door slamming open and shut had become a sound you were used to. Months ago it would have startled you, made you jump nearly out of your skin, especially given the area you found yourself living in. Now, however, the sound was almost comforting to you.

The slam of the door meant your boyfriend was home, alive, but from the sluggish sound of his footsteps, not uninjured. You paused what you were doing, carefully chopping vegetables for the stew you had been planning on making.

You set the knife down, washing your hands rather quickly, before making your way into the living room. Sure enough, Jason was sat on the couch, having taken his helmet off himself, sweaty and breathing heavily, his eyes shut.

His hair was nearly plastered to his forehead, and he didn't open his eyes to your entrance, despite hearing your footsteps grow closer. You took stock of his appearance, cuts and fresh bruises lined his cheeks, and you were sure there were other injuries beneath his armor if the thin trail of blood from your doorway was any indicator.

"You should see the other guy," Was the first sentence he offered you, lips curled in an attempt of a smirk, but his labored breathing made it appear more of a grimace.

"I'd rather not waste my time looking at dead bodies," Despite your worry, you joked back, voice soft as you knelt down in front of him.

He cracked open his eyes, sighing as he took in your sight. Your eyebrows were furrowed with worry, eyes raking over his appearance, no doubt calculating just how injured he was. He shifted, leaning towards you, prying a glove off before caressing your cheek, thumb softly brushing the cheek bone.

"I'm fine."

You rolled your eyes, rather used to hearing that line fall from his lips, "You and I both know that's a lie," You stood up, hands on your hips, "Take the armor off."

He raised an eyebrow, trying to deflect your concern, "Take me to dinner first."

You barely rose to the bait, "Dinner will be ready sooner if you let me treat your injuries without a fight."

The two of you stared at each other for a silent moment, before he relented. He had never thought he'd meet someone whose stubbornness outweighed his, and he never would have thought that someone as sweet as you could be harder-headed than him.

"Alright, alright," He hated that he was struggling to remove his own armor, muscles sore and screaming at him.

You shook your head as he dropped his clothes onto the ground, stepping forward, tender hands pressing gently to his skin. You started on his face first, palms cupping his jaw, and he relaxed into your hold, the warmth of your hands fighting the nippy cold from outside that still lingered in his bones.

You made a soft tsk, and he felt the odd sensation of the cuts on his cheek closing themselves up, not having to open his eyes to know that your gaze was unwavering, eyes glowing inhumanly, the color a brighter hue of the normal ones he fell in love with.

"The scars will fade quickly," You murmured, voice low as you moved your hands from his face, gently pressing against his shoulders, biceps, forearms, taking assessment of the damage.

He opened his eyes to watch you, a smile forming on his face as you continued muttering to yourself, cursing him for trying to hide his injuries, easily reversing the damage that had occurred to him hours before.

"Jason Todd," You scolded, pressing your hands against his ribs, eyes narrowing into a glare, "You were going to hide broken ribs from me?"

He chuckled sheepishly, "I've handled worse."

"Doesn't mean you have to now," He felt energy buzz under his skin, sucking in a quick breath as he felt his ribs fuse back together, "I'll do whatever I can to make sure of that."

He knew that, he knows that. But more often than not he feels as if he's taking advantage of you, of your abilities. He didn't know if your powers made you selfless, or if your selflessness manifested your powers. But he does know that you would run yourself ragged if it meant you could help every injured or ill-ridden person you came across.

He didn't want to admit it to anyone, let alone the rest of the stupid bird family of his, but he did go out of his way now to avoid massive injuries. If he came back with just a few scratches or bruises, he could talk you out of healing him, telling you paper cuts hurt worse than the injuries he had now.

He had less luck when he came home with cracked bones or bullet holes. He knew, and you knew, he would heal faster than normal thanks to the Lazarus Pit, but your powers worked almost instantly. You'd rather heal him immediately, rather than let him set for a few hours, body healing itself.

In a matter of five minutes, all his injuries were gone, leaving nothing but dried blood and faint scaring in their places. You sat back on your heels, eyes their normal shade, smiling up at him.

"There you are," You stood, leaning to place a soft, quick kiss to his lips, pulling back to run a hand through his hair, "Good as new."

"You enjoy playin' doctor, huh?"

The blush on your cheeks had him grinning like mad, and you rolled your eyes to avoid eye contact. He caught your hand in his, resting your knuckles against his lips, "Thanks doll."

You went to move, more than likely heading back to finish tonight's meal, but a flash of white caught his eye, and he grabbed your hand, turning it palm up. You stood, eyebrow raised in confusion as he ran his fingers across your skin gently, feeling the rough bandage across your palm.

"What happened?"

Your lips formed a quick 'o', grinning almost sheepishly, "I nicked myself cutting the carrots a bit earlier," You let him fiddle with your hand, your fingers for a moment longer, shrugging, "It's fine, I dressed it."

"I wish you could heal yourself."

He had found himself saying that so many times, wishing you could use your abilities selfishly. You healed him, no questions asked. You used to babysit some of the kids in the area, kissing away scraps and bruises under the guise that kisses healed everything when they looked at you in wonder. You held injured birds, cats, and dogs in the alleyways, taking care of their illnesses brought by hunger, correcting broken wings and crooked paws like it was as simple as breathing.

But whenever you were injured, struck down by a fever, found yourself in a situation where you needed help, you were helpless to do anything for yourself.

Your powers, Jason thought, were a blessing and a curse.

You shrugged, "Even if I could, wasting my abilities on a little cut? I'm fine."

His gaze met yours, and you understood the look he was giving you. You were repeating his own sentiments to him now, but you stood by it. Even if you could heal yourself, there were others who needed your energy and powers more than you did. Why would you have been born with this power if not to help others?

That's the notion you were raised on, and while Jason wanted you to put yourself first, protect yourself over strangers in the streets, he also knew that mindset was why the two of you met.

No one else would have rushed to the side of a downed Red Hood in the streets, covered in a mixture of his blood and the blood of those he killed. Everyone else would have run off or ignored him, but you rushed to his side, not asking questions, not trying to remove his hood or armor, hands placed where ever you could put them, and before he knew it, the dizziness brought on by blood loss was gone.

The rest was history.

He stood up, "Let me redress it at least," He squeezed your hand gently, "A lifetime of healing and you don't even know how to properly apply a band-aid."

You pouted but laughed along as he dragged you behind him to the bathroom, the first aid kit he forced you to buy still laying out on the counter.

You chattered away, talking about how your day had been, the kittens you saw coming back from the store earlier, how you got rid of their flea-ridden infections, and how you went back a few hours later and set up a box with some blankets in it for them. You mentioned keeping an eye on them, and bringing them home if no one claimed them in the next few days. He listened intently, cleaning the cut and dabbing some neosporin on it, wishing he could do more for your injuries, regardless of how small there were.

He'd do whatever he was able to though, wrapping any cuts you got, icing any bruises that appeared, he'd carry you everywhere if you required him to. He'd do that for as long as you'd let him.

Sorry, I had no idea how to end it. I hope you liked it!

[xxchumanixx]

Healing together

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings/Tags: smut, 18+ mdni!, p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), oral (fem receiving), fingering, fluff, angst, hurt, comfort

Word count: 4.731

Authors note: Hello guys! I know I said I'd be uploading another story (actually two), but I had this idea all of a sudden and I just couldn't let it slide. So I had to do it first. Get ready for some naked time with Tim Bradford!

Enjoy!

That, was not how your day had been supposed to go.

Not at all.

Being in the middle of a crimescene, staring at your ex-boyfriend - Yeah, it definitely wasn't supposed to go like that.

It should have been a normal day - you should have went to work, did your job, before going home, cook, shower, sleep.

Simple as that.

But when a colleague from work had been killed in the middle of the day, causing the whole place to be crowded with police and forensics, the day had begun to shift.

Slowly, the simple things became complicated - being crowned when you spotted a familiar face amidst the officers: Tim Bradford.

Sucking in a breath you tried your best to hide, which wasn't that easy given the open parking lot you currently were at.

But he didn't seem to have seen you yet, calming your racing heart down a little.

Your break-up with Tim was nasty.

You weren't compatible anymore, your interests and goals for the future having shifted completely, going into different directions.

That didn't mean that you didn't love him anymore, but when you gave him the choice - either his career or you - he took the career.

You didn't exactly blame him for it, but he broke your heart. Now, years later, you couldn't help but notice that he looked even better than before.

Scolding yourself for thinking this way, you shook your head. He shouldn't be of interest for you, not after all this time.

But he was.

So, when someone cleared their throat behind you, you froze.

"Ma'am, we would like to get a statement from you." You knew his voice, it still haunted you in your dreams - you would have recognized it from anywhere.

Turning around you did your best not to look too suspicious. Sending him a crooked smile his eyes widened, mouth agape as the pen in his hand almost slipped from his grasp.

"Y/N." he carefully said your name, like he was testing it on his tongue after all these years. "Tim." you gave back, swallowing.

The woman beside him - according to her name tag she was officer Chen - looked between you in confusion.

"You know her?" she wanted to know, pen pointed at you. "Yeah..." he returned, eyes fixed on you. "Briefly." you cut in, noticing how his mouth twitched at the statement.

"We were in the same class in academy and she used to work for the LAPD." Tim explained.

"You're a cop?" she asked, sounding almost excited. "I was." you corrected her, biting your lip.

"I was, until a case went wrong, sending me to the intensive care unit for almost three months." "You nearly died." Tim added, shaking his head the slightest bit. "If the bullet had hit a millimeter more to the right he would have hit your heart. Not that it would have been the only bullet, though."

Swallowing at the memory you nodded slightly. "Yeah, the scars remind me everyday of my almost day of death."

Chen bit her lip. "I know that feeling." she mumbled. "Been buried alive. That psycho tattooed my DOD on my ribs."

Your brows rose high at the horrible time she had to have went through, eyes widening. "Officer Bradford saved me." she explained, motioning at Tim.

Nodding you felt a familiar tug at your heart. "He uses to do such things from time to time." you told her, trying to hide how your voice trembled.

"Y/N!" he shouted your name. It sounded strange through the blur and the fog in your head. "Stay with me! Keep your eyes open, you hear me? Y/N!"

Blinking rapidly, you had to get away from him. His presence opened wounds that never managed to heal.

"What are you doing here? I thought you went to New Orleans?" Tim wanted to know, tilting his head slightly as his brows furrowed. Your lip twitched - you had barely been in New Orleans for a year.

It was beautiful, but it wasn't LA.

"I'm back, have been a few years now, actually." you explained, fingers tugging at lose strings on your pants. You just had to grab the one with holes in it, hadn't you?

Why even buy overpriced pants with holes, anyways?

Shaking that thought off, you continued. "I'm working here, the one who's murdered was my colleague. Although I contemplated going back."

"Back to New Orleans?" He almost sounded alarmed, but you shook your head. "Back to the police."

That must have alarmed him even more, as his eyes widened significantly.

"I've got an offer from Grey." you explained, tugging a lose strand of hair behind your ear. Tim swallowed, nodding.

"So you two were rookies together?" Chen inquired, smiling. "How was he back then?"

Clearing your throat you looked at her. "He was ambitious, eager." you explained. "A little reckless."

Tim's brows rose at your words. "I was reckless?" he wanted to know, huffing. "We were both reckless when we decided to be-" he cut himself off, already having said too much.

But Chen was clever, as she caught on to what he wanted to say.

"Wait, you two were together?"

Rolling your eyes you looked away for a second.

Damn him and his mouth - even when the memory of what his mouth was able to do made you blush.

Not what you wanted to think of in that moment, though.

"We were." you confirmed, nodding as you looked back at her. "Didn't work. It's history, nothing more."

Tim swallowed, it was so loud that you could hear it.

His gaze wandered over the crimescene, before it fixed on his rookie. "Boot, could you get a statement from this man over there?" he asked, pointing somewhere, though it wasn't really a question.

Chen knew that as well, nodding.

"Was nice to meet you." she spoke, before she turned around and headed for the man Tim pointed at.

Cocking a brow you looked up at him, as his gaze fell back on you. "What?" he asked, brows furrowing. "You did that on purpose." you replied, giving him a pointed look.

Sighing he stuffed away his pen and notepad, nodding. "Yes, I did."

Biting your lip you contemplated to run.

You didn't know what he wanted to talk about, but if he sent his rookie away, he wanted to do exactly that.

You knew him.

Sighing, you decided to stay. It would have only looked suspicious if you ran - they didn't need to falsely arrest you, because they thought you were the murderer.

Biting down on your cheek you waited for him to begin.

"You look good." he spoke hesitantly, a small smile gracing his lips. Nodding, your brows twitched. "Did you tell her to go just so you could tell me that I look good?" you gave back, tilting your head.

"No, I... I'm just surprised to see you, that's all." he admitted, looking down for a split second. "After we... separated, I didn't see you again."

Huffing, you crossed your arms above your chest. "What did you expect, after you broke my heart?" you returned, holding his gaze, even as his eyes averted at your words.

"That I could continue like nothing happened? I couldn't stay, because that meant I'd have to see you everyday, so I quit and went to New Orleans. But it wasn't LA, so I came back after only a year. I kept in contact with Wade and Angela, but that's it."

His brows knitted together. "I don't know if I should be more surprised about you being on first name basis with Grey or you staying in contact with Lopez."

Shaking your head you looked down.

"What are you trying to do here, Tim?" you asked quietly, looking back up. The sun was already setting, shining straight onto your faces, highlighting all of his contours.

Sighing deeply, his gaze fell back on the crowd of people around you. He seemed unsure, hesitant.

"I never got the chance to apologize." he finally spoke, looking down, before his gaze fell on you, as your brows furrowed. "I chose my career, but I later realized that I was wrong. I could have had both and I made the mistake of choosing only one thing."

Shaking your head at his words you felt the anger bubble up. You had suppressed it for so long, that it was hard for you to hold it back now.

"Are you serious?" you wanted to know, taking a step closer, as your eyes narrowed at him. "Angela mentioned that you married - only two years later. Surely your career didn't stand in the way when you did."

He looked like you just slapped him in the face.

"I know." he gave back. "I didn't want to do the same mistake again. But then I did another one. She got addicted, and I didn't intervene at first. Only when she left one night I realized that I fucked up again. I didn't see her for two years, but now she's clean."

Biting your lip you nodded slightly.

"Bet you must be happy now." you said, feeling sorry for her. "We're divorced now." he returned. "It's only a few months ago. But it's better that way."

"Oh." you made, looking away, now feeling guilty, as the anger slowly faded. "Angela didn't tell me. I mean, not that it's my cup of tea, but I'm sorry for you."

He nodded. "Thank you, but I'm okay."

Nodding as well, you didn't know what to say. Luckily, he did.

"You should get home, get some rest." he told you, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, I don't know." you gave back, biting your lip. "My car is at the workshop, I got here with the bus, but that won't get here, now that this is a crimescene. I don't know how I'll get home - I guess I'll just walk then."

His brows furrowed. "No, you're not going home on your own." he disagreed, shaking his head. "We still don't know who did this and the suspect could still be close by. I'll drive you."

"What? No, you don't have to do that. I can protect myself." you argued. "I bet you have a lot of work left to do here anyway, not to mention your rookie."

But he shook his head, not having it. "She'll drive with someone else." he told you sternly, before walking towards her.

Mouth agape you stared after him, not sure if you were ready to be alone in a car with him just yet.

When he came back, you couldn't believe that he really was able to just go, drive you home.

"Come." he spoke, walking towards his police car. Still shocked you followed him, knowing that you didn't have another choice. He wouldn't have let you go alone, no matter what you did.

You sighed, when you sat down in the passenger seat. You missed sitting in the shop, the familiar smell and feeling causing you to feel homesick.

Tim started the engine, as you buckled up. Leaning back in the seat your fingers brushed over the door. You had sat so many times in the shop, and after all this time of being no cop anymore, you finally felt at home again.

The drive was silent for the first few minutes, after you told him were you lived.

The silence was heavy, neither one knowing what to say now that you were alone.

"Are you planning on taking Grey up on his offer?" Tim broke the silence, looking at you, before his gaze went back out on the street.

"Before getting in the shop I wasn't sure - but now... It feels like I'm home again. All this time I missed something and I know now, that it was this job."

He nodded, swallowing.

"I took that from you." he almost whispered, and you swore you saw his eyes glisten. "Because of me you gave up your dream. I don't know how I'll ever be able to make up for it."

Biting your cheek, you considered if you should tell him that he couldn't make up for it. But you decided against it.

If you really wanted to get back, you shouldn't stay angry at him. You should at least try to forgive him, no matter how long it would take.

"I'm sure you'll find a way." you quietly told him, looking out your window.

Parking in front of your house, it was already dark. He cut the engine, getting out, before you could have stopped him.

Following him to your front door you hesitated. "Won't you get into trouble for driving me home?"

He shook his head, as he stopped at the door, as you did the same. "No, I can explain my absence." he told you, looking down at you. "I just wanted to make sure that you're getting home safely."

Feeling your heart hammer in your chest, you nodded. "Okay, then thank you for driving me home." you spoke, looking up into his eyes. "Yeah, no problem." he mumbled, staring back.

You felt how you became hot, hearing your heartbeat in your ears at his intense stare.

Slowly, he inched closer, his head leaning in your direction. Your breathing faltered, as you did the same.

His breath fanned over your face and you swallowed, before his lips finally met yours.

Something inside you exploded, as you tasted his lips for the first time since your break-up.

They fit together like they were made to be, his hands finding your hips, guiding you closer. Your arms wrapped around his neck, as you pressed yourself impossibly closer to him.

Your lips devoured each other, his tongue brushing your bottom lip and you let him in. Your tongues fought for dominance, your combined breathing ringing in your ears.

Your heart burst at the feeling, as the kiss grew more heated.

Fumbling for the key, all your worries were suddenly gone. Trying to open the door blindly it took you a few tries, before you heard the familiar click. Pushing the door open, Tim didn't waste any time as he pushed you inside.

He closed the door behind him, before his hands grabbed your face, guiding your lips back onto his.

He pushed you against the nearest wall, your back hitting it almost painfully, as his hands roamed your body. Grabbing your thighs he gave you a sign to jump - and so you did.

Your legs wrapped around his middle, pulling him closer. His lips traveled down your chin to your neck, sucking at it until he found the spot that had you moaning.

Using the advantage he brushed off your jacket, letting it fall to the floor, before his hands found your hips again. They wandered under your shirt, eagerly touching your skin.

"Where is your bedroom?" he wanted to know breathlessly. "Upstairs, first door on the right." you explained, out of breath as well.

He didn't hesitate to grab you, before he walked to the stairs with you in his arms, showing no signs of trouble as he took them, all the while kissing you as he blindly made his way up.

When he reached the door he pushed it open, only breaking the kiss to locate your bed, before he let you fall down on it. Catching your breath, you pulled your shirt over your head, watching him as he took off his jacket, followed by his shirt and the one he wore under his uniform.

He was breathtaking.

His muscles were more defined than they were back then, making him even more geogous. Unbottoning his pants, you did the same, stripping out of them, before throwing them off the bed.

When you were left in only your underwear, he was back on top of you, his lips taking yours. Lying down on your back his body pressed against yours, his clothed cock pressing against the inside of your thigh.

Sucking down your neck, he again found your sweet spot, earning a moan from you as he sucked on it. Your hands brushed through his hair, as your back arched.

He took the opportunity to open your bra, discarding of it on the floor.

Kissing down to your breasts, his lips found your left nipple, sucking it into his mouth. You yelped in pleasure and surprise, tugging at his short strands. His tongue circled around it, before it flicked over it.

You moaned when he lightly bit down on your nipple, before letting go of it with a wet pop, giving your other one the same attention.

The wetness between your legs was almost getting too wet, the knot in your belly already forming just because his lips were around your nipple.

Letting go of the other one he went further down, trailing kisses down your stomach, until he reached the hem of your panties. He looked up at you, before he kissed your clothed pussy, causing you to suck in a breath.

He was so unnaturally hot.

Chuckling at your reaction, his fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties, before tugging them down, letting them drop on the floor as well.

Then he pushed your legs back, opening them until he could see his precious price. Kissing your thighs he took his time, causing you to squirm.

You could feel him grin, his hot breath fanning over your heat. Without a warning his tongue licked up your pussy in one stripe, causing your hips to buck, as you moaned loudly.

His tongue went down on you, licking through your folds, flicking over your clit, before his lips sucked it into his mouth.

Your hands found their way back into his hair, fisting it as much as you could with its length, earning a groan from him. It vibrated through your pussy, making you moan in return.

His thumb brushed over your clit, as his mouth let go of you, his eyes finding yours. He drew figure eights on your bundle of nerves, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head, gasping for air.

His thumb was soon replaced by his mouth again, as he slowly pushed a finger inside you, after gathering some of your arousel to wet it.

You moaned, as he started fingering you, all the while pleasuring you with his tongue. When he added a second finger, stretching you, your back arched off the matress, as you pulled his head even closer.

The knot in your stomach tightened almost painfully, as his fingers fell into a steady rhythm. He brought you right to the edge, and when you looked down at him, your eyes finding his, you fell.

Screaming his name, you came. He didn't stop though, taking everything you gave him, as he rode you through your high.

When you came down it, he removed his mouth and fingers, wiping over his mouth, that glistened from your arousel, before he leaned up, kissing you.

Tasting yourself on his tongue you groaned, palming him through his briefs. He twitched, as he gasped for air, before his lips were on yours again.

Tugging the briefs down his legs, he let them fall to the floor, his cock painfully hard. It poked at your entrance, making you all the more eager to finally have him inside you.

His lips left yours, as he pointed at your night table. You nodded, before he opened it and took out a condom, before sitting up a little. He rolled it down his shaft, before he lay back on top of you.

Kissing you again he guided his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing the head inside.

Moaning you clenched, making him hiss. "Fuck." he breathed. "You're so tight." Smirking you pushed in his direction. He slowly eased forward, until he was buried to the hilt.

Breathing heavily you leaned back into the cushions, needing a moment to get used to him.

His lips brushed your cheek, as he waited for your go. Nodding, you signaled that you were ready.

Slowly, he pulled back until only his head was inside you, before thrusting back into you hard. You yelped, toes curling at the sensation, as he did it again and again, slowly becoming faster.

You fell into a steady rhytm, your hands gripping his bicep with his arms at either side of your head.

His eyes found yours and you sucked in a breath, moaning his name. "Fuck." he swore, biting his lip. "Do that again." Your cheeks flushed. "Tim!" you moaned his name again and he groaned, his thrusts getting harder, deeper.

You wouldn't last long if he kept this up.

Your breasts bounced, and he kissed down them, circling your nipples with his tongue.

Your hands found his hair, tugging at it almost painfully at the sensations. The knot in your belly tightened again, as you brought his mouth back to yours.

He thrust into you vigorously, his pelvis brushing your clit, sending sparks up your body and making your toes curl.

"I'm gonna cum soon." you told him inbetween moans, biting your lip. One of his hands gripped one of your legs, giving you a sign to wrap them both around his middle.

Doing as you were told you felt how he reached even deeper, earning a moan from you both.

His thrusts gained speed, as one of his hands found your middle, his fingers brushing your clit. You twitched under him, as he started to rub it, driving you towards the edge in highspeed.

You were so close to bursting.

"Tim!" you breathed, trying to focus on his face. "I know." he gave back. "Come for me."

With a scream of his name you stumbled over the edge, him following closely as your pussy clenched around him.

He rode out your highs, before he stilled. Breathing heavily your eyes were closed, needing a moment to come down from the best orgasmn you've had in the last few years.

When your eyes opened again they met his, as he brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of your face. You smiled, still feeling a little high.

He returned the smile, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

Time stood still, as you enjoyed this moment in silence.

Still a little out of breath he rolled down from you, his back hitting the sheets as he lay down beside you.

"Fuck..." he mumbled. "That was..." "Amazing." you finished for him. "Yeah..."

You lay in silence as you slowly caught your breath, him discarding of the condom, before lying back down. But as the high faded, something different bubbled up.

Feelings, that were so deep buried inside you, suddenly pushed back up. Gasping, you tried to suppress the tears -failing horribly as a sob broke through.

"Y/N!" Tim called out your name in worry, sitting up. "What happened?" Tears streamed down your face, as you sat up as well.

"Why couldn't it just have been fine?" you wanted to know, causing him to furrow his brows in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Why couldn't we just have been happy back then?" you returned, wiping your face.

He fell silent, as he knew what you meant.

Crying silently you suddenly felt ashamed. You shouldn’t have been crying over the past, but you couldn't help it. After all that happened, you still loved him.

"After you've been shot, almost dying in my arms..." he began, breaking the silence, as his gaze fell on the sheets. "I built this shield around me, that was supposed to prevent a situation like this from happening again. I almost lost you, an event that traumatized me so badly... For a very long time I tried to convince myself that what I did was right."

He sighed, and you swallowed, biting your lip as more tears fell.

"When I married Isabel, I tried to prevent something like this, but I failed - again." he continued. "She was undercover, getting addicted. I didn't know how to help her and to be honest, I don't believe that there was actually a way I could have helped. If anything, I made it worse. It reminded me of us. I relived the events from when you were shot, nearly dying. You lost so much blood that they had to revive you - two times. Knowing that it was my fault, knowing that you could have died because of me - something inside me broke. So when I built this shield, and you asked me to go with you - I was scared that it would follow us. I was scared that you'd be in harms way, because of me. So I chose the job."

Sobbing, you tried to understand what he just told you.

"It wasn't your fault." you told him, wiping your face, even though it was useless. "Yes it was! If I-" he wanted to argue, but you cut him off. "No, Tim! It was not your fault! It was mine!" you shouted, pointing at yourself.

"I was sloppy that day, I didn't sleep enough, wasn't feeling well. And if I hadn't hesitated when trying to shoot the attacker, he wouldn't even have had a chance to get me. It wasn't your fault, do you hear me? Nothing of this was on you, Tim."

His mouth was open, eyes red from the tears he tried to hold at bay.

"You never said that you didn't feel well." he realized, swallowing. "If you would have told Grey, you wouldn't have even been there in the first place."

Nodding, you bit your lip, absentmindely brushing over the scar on your chest with your fingers.

"Yes, but i was so eager to get that job done." you explained. "Nothing would have stopped me from going out there, so stop blaming yourself. Please, Tim."

It fell silent again, as your tears slowly subsided.

All this time you had suffered, because he thought he was at fault for your accident. He blamed himself, even though it wasn't his fault at all.

When he suddenly scooted closer, his arms wrapping around you with his chin on your head, you heard him sniff. Leaning against him you breathed his familiar scent, your heart bleeding as he cried.

You could have had it all. Could have lived a happy life. He could have married you instead of Isabel, who ended up getting addicted, breaking his heart.

You had both suffered so badly.

And as you sat there, both crying over the past mistakes, you made a decision.

You would forgive him.

After all, he did what he did to keep you safe - even if he broke his own heart in the process as well.

After a while he shifted, looking down at you. His eyes were red and a little puffy, but yours didn't look any better.

"I shouldn't have let you go." he told you, wiping away the remnants of your tears. "When you asked me to go with you, I should have said yes. I shouldn't have pushed you away, out of fear that I might lose you if I didn't."

Shaking your head, you sniffed. "I shouldn't have made you choose." you gave back. "I ran away from my fear, but it didn't work. I should have stayed and tried to heal, instead of running."

He breathed deeply, his hand on your cheek.

"I want you to know that I never stopped loving you." he admitted, holding your gaze. "Not even when i was with Isabel."

Smiling through another wave of tears coming up, your hand lay on his. "I never stopped loving you, either." you returned, a happy feeling spreading through you.

It tickled your veins, warming you from the inside.

He smiled as well, blinking as a tear fell on his cheek.

"Can we fix this?" he asked, hope shining in his eyes. "I think we did already." you gave back, causing him to sigh in relief.

"Will we be together, after this?" he questioned further. Swallowing, you wiped at your eyes, before responding. "I would love nothing more."

He kissed you. It felt different, free.

Like it should be.

"I love you." he spoke, kissing your cheeks. "I love you too." you returned, a giddy feeling spreading through your entire being, smiling broadly.

"And I promise that I'll never leave you again." he added, swallowing, as he looked into your eyes. "You'll never get rid of me again."

"I wouldn't want to."

[autistichalsin]

NO BUT LISTEN TO ME!!!

HALSIN'S FUCKING EPILOGUE KILLS ME! BECAUSE! Not only do you see how much he is healing, but you also see how much healing he still has left to do!!!

Take this line if the player joins him at the commune:

"Tell me... are you happy with the path we tread together? I took you from a life of high adventure, to one that can be described as anything but. I thought perhaps that seeing everyone once again, and hearing of all that they have been doing... it might awaken some regret, about the life we lead. You could have done anything, gone with anyone... yet you chose me."

That one statement conveys so much. So much doubt and insecurity. He still doesn't view himself as particularly worth settling down for; and in fact, secretly worries the player is (or will soon discover themselves to be) miserable at it. He has a remarkably modest nature, yes, but this is a step beyond. Even with the player's love and kindness, he is in a similar state to that first romance scene, where he thought one little mistake (wildshaping on accident) would make the player leave him forever. Here, too, he's terrified the player will discover the "truth", that they never actually wanted him, and might even leave him. :(

After the player reassures him:

"Forgive me. This past while has been so idyllic that I almost fear something must go wrong. A fear I shall overcome, trust me. We are amongst friends, in celebration."

"I almost fear something must go wrong."

People with PTSD experience this one a lot. Why are things going so well? What's about to go wrong? He acknowledges he will heal in time, but he still isn't there yet.

"I am glad to hear it. Forgive an old fool in need of a little reassurance. I am still expecting to stir from the dream."

Same as the above. He's waiting to find that none of it is real, that he's still trapped at the Grove in utter isolated misery.

Other dialogues, when meeting up with either a romanced player who didn't go with him, or with a friend player:

"Perhaps that is so for you, but for me? It may be that a peaceful life after so many years of tumult has made me sentimental."

Acknowledging the years of tumult, and the effect they had on him, while also noting the good changes the last six peaceful months have brought him.

"You are right, of course. I am accustomed to dwelling on the past, even when it brought me nothing but unhappiness. You changed that, and gave me the most precious of memories."

This one is one of the most profound of all, especially because Halsin, so many times, tells the player not to regret things, to focus on making a future together, etc. But when it comes to his own traumatic memories, he is still unable to stop dwelling on some of them- "even when it (brings him) nothing but unhappiness."

He's done so much healing in his six months at the commune; you can already tell what a new, happier person he is. He even brings up that his restless, roaming nature has settled now that he has a place he belongs. But you can also see where the traumas have left deeper scars on him that will take much, much longer to heal.

(... And this is why I will NEVER choose any dialogue option for the romanced epilogue EXCEPT FOR "I chose you for a reason, and have never looked back." This man deserves to hear it at least a dozen times a day for the rest of his life. :( )

[sebstanaddict]

The Weight of Love

Bucky Barnes x Reader One Shot

Summary: Bucky Barnes never expected to fall for Y/n, the nurse who helped him recover after he got severely injured from a dangerous mission. Six months later, their love is tested as Y/n becomes the one who needs help. When she collapses in his arms, Bucky must find a way to support her and face their challenges together.

Pairings : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warning : none I think, let me know if you find any

Word count : 4k words

Read more Bucky one shots here : The Stan and Barnes Oddyssey

---

The Weight of Love

The first time James "Bucky" Barnes laid eyes on Y/n, he was bleeding out on a gurney, the sharp sting of pain dulled only by the disorienting fog of shock. The mission had gone horribly wrong, leaving him with a deep, jagged wound in his side that refused to stop bleeding. As he was rushed through the sterile halls of New York Presbyterian Hospital, his vision blurred, and he fought to stay conscious. Despite the chaos surrounding him, a calm, steady voice broke through the haze.

"Stay with me, Mr. Barnes. You're going to be okay. Just stay with me."

Her words were like a lifeline in the storm, anchoring him to the present. Bucky had faced countless injuries in the past, his body a patchwork of scars from battles that spanned decades. The super soldier serum coursing through his veins had always ensured that he healed faster than any normal human could. But lately, he'd noticed a change-a slowing down that was unsettling, to say the least. He wasn't healing as quickly as he used to, and this mission had proven that in the worst possible way.

The fluorescent lights of the emergency room passed overhead, casting harsh shadows that danced in and out of his vision. He could feel the life draining out of him, a coldness creeping into his limbs. But that voice-soothing, determined-kept pulling him back from the brink.

"Don't give up on me now, Mr. Barnes. We're almost there."

Somehow, he managed to focus, his vision sharpening just enough to make out her face. She had a mask on, but her eyes-their gentle concern, their unwavering focus-were enough to imprint on his memory even as he slipped into darkness.

When Bucky next opened his eyes, the world was quieter, the frantic urgency of the ER replaced by the steady beeping of monitors. His side ached, but the pain was duller now, a mere echo of the agony he remembered. He tried to sit up, but his body protested, and he let out a low groan.

"You're awake."

The voice was familiar, and Bucky turned his head slightly, wincing at the stiffness in his neck. Standing by the foot of his bed, holding a clipboard, was the nurse who had spoken to him in the chaos of the ER. Her face was calm, her demeanor professional, but there was a softness in her eyes that put him at ease.

"Y/n," she introduced herself, as if sensing he wouldn't recall much from earlier. "How are you feeling?"

Bucky swallowed, his throat dry and his voice rasping when he finally spoke. "Like I've been through a meat grinder."

Y/n nodded, her expression empathetic. "That sounds about right. You were in pretty rough shape when you came in, but the doctors were able to stabilize you. The wound was deep, but it didn't hit any vital organs, which is why you're still with us."

Bucky glanced down at his bandaged side, the stark white gauze a reminder of just how close he'd come to not making it. The serum should have helped him heal faster, but lately, its effects seemed to be... waning. He wasn't bouncing back the way he used to, and the thought sent a chill down his spine.

"How bad was it?" he asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Pretty bad," Y/n admitted, her voice gentle. "You were bleeding heavily, and with the serum slowing down... well, it took longer than it should have for your body to start the healing process. But you're stable now, and that's what matters."

Bucky nodded, his mind still processing her words. The serum had been a part of him for so long, a source of strength that he had come to rely on. But if it was weakening... what did that mean for him? For the future?

As if sensing his unease, Y/n stepped closer, offering a small, reassuring smile. "You're going to be okay, Mr. Barnes. You just need to give your body time to heal."

Bucky managed a faint smile in return. "Please, call me Bucky."

"Alright, Bucky," Y/n said, her smile widening slightly. "How about I get you some water? You've been out for a while; you must be thirsty."

"Yeah, that'd be good," Bucky replied, his voice a bit steadier now.

As Y/n poured a cup of water and handed it to him, Bucky took a moment to really look at her. She moved with a quiet efficiency, but there was a warmth in her presence that cut through the sterile coldness of the hospital room. When their fingers brushed as she handed him the cup, he felt a strange sense of connection, a fleeting moment of human contact that made him feel... less alone.

Over the next few days, Y/n became a familiar and comforting presence in Bucky's life. Each morning, she was there, checking his vitals, administering medication, and asking about his pain levels. She seemed to know just when to offer words of reassurance and when to give him space, an intuition that Bucky appreciated more than he could express.

Y/n had seen her fair share of wounded soldiers over the years, but there was something about Bucky that set him apart. Perhaps it was the weight he carried in his eyes, the haunted look of someone who had lived through more than most could even imagine. She couldn't help but wonder about the man behind the soldier-the person who existed beneath the layers of trauma and scars.

One afternoon, as she was adjusting his IV, Bucky broke the silence that had settled between them. "You must see a lot of guys like me in here."

Y/n glanced up, meeting his gaze. "We get our share of soldiers, yes. But none quite like you."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his expression. "What do you mean?"

"You're... different," Y/n said carefully, choosing her words. "Most soldiers who come through here are dealing with physical injuries, but there's something else in your eyes. Something... deeper."

Bucky's jaw tightened slightly, the memories of his past flashing through his mind like a reel of horrors. "I've been through a lot," he said simply, his voice tinged with a weariness that spoke volumes.

Y/n nodded, her eyes softening. "I can see that. But you're still here, still fighting. That says a lot about who you are."

Bucky looked away, the weight of her words heavy on his shoulders. He wasn't sure how to respond. He had spent so long trying to distance himself from the Winter Soldier, from the man who had done so many terrible things, that he often forgot who he was beyond that. But Y/n's words stirred something in him-an inkling of the man he used to be, the man he wanted to be again.

As the days passed, Bucky found himself opening up to Y/n in ways he hadn't with anyone else in years. It started small-comments about the weather, the food, the monotonous routine of hospital life. But gradually, their conversations deepened, and Bucky began to share bits and pieces of his past.

He told her about Steve Rogers, the friend who had always believed in him, even when he couldn't believe in himself. He spoke of the 1940s, a time when life had been simpler, before the war, before everything had gone wrong. He even hinted at the battles he had fought in the shadows, though he kept the darkest details to himself.

Y/n listened with a quiet attentiveness, never pushing him to share more than he was ready to. She could sense the pain in his words, the guilt and regret that lingered just beneath the surface. But she also saw the strength in him, the resilience that had kept him going all these years, even when it felt like the world was against him.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the window, Y/n sat by Bucky's bedside, her shift nearly over. She had been thinking about him all day, wondering what it was about this man that made her care so deeply. It wasn't just his injuries or his past-there was something more, something that drew her to him in a way she couldn't quite explain.

"Bucky," she began, her voice soft in the quiet room. "Can I ask you something?"

Bucky turned his head to look at her, his blue eyes searching her face. "Sure."

"Why did you become a soldier?" she asked, her tone gentle, not wanting to pry too deeply but genuinely curious.

Bucky was silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he considered her question. It wasn't one he had been asked often-most people assumed they knew the answer. But Y/n wasn't most people.

"I didn't have much of a choice," he said finally, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. "The world was at war, and everyone was expected to do their part. But for me... it was about protecting the people I cared about. Steve, my family, my country. I wanted to do the right thing."

Y/n nodded, understanding the complexity of his answer. "And do you think you did?"

Bucky let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "I don't know. I tried, but things didn't turn out the way I thought they would. The world changed, and I... changed with it."

Y/n reached out, placing a hand gently on his hand. "You're still here, Bucky. That means you're still fighting for something. Maybe it's not the same as it was before, but that doesn't make it any less important."

Bucky looked down at her hand, the warmth of her touch seeping into his skin. For the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope, a small spark that maybe, just maybe, he could find his way back to the man he used to be-or perhaps, become someone new entirely.

He wasn't sure what it was about Y/n but he found himself wanting to talk to her, to share the parts of himself that he usually kept hidden and he also wanted to get to know more about her.

"Why did you become a nurse?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Y/n smiled softly, as if she had been expecting the question. "My brother," she said simply. "He's autistic. Growing up, I spent a lot of time taking care of him, making sure he had what he needed. It wasn't always easy, but it made me realize that I wanted to help people-people who couldn't always help themselves."

Bucky listened intently, sensing that this was something deeply personal for her. "That must have been hard," he said, his voice gentle.

"It was," Y/n admitted, her gaze distant as she recalled those early years. "But it also taught me a lot about patience, empathy, and resilience. I knew that I wanted to make a difference, even if it was in small ways. Nursing felt like the right path for me."

Bucky nodded, feeling a strange sense of connection with her. They were both people who had seen their fair share of hardship, who had been shaped by the challenges life had thrown at them. "Your brother's lucky to have you," he said sincerely.

Y/n's smile widened, a touch of warmth in her eyes. "Thank you, Bucky. That means a lot."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, her hand still placed gently on top of his, the hum of the hospital's night shift lulling them into a sense of calm. For Bucky, it was a rare feeling-peace, even if it was only temporary. He hadn't felt this way in a long time, not since before the war, before the Winter Soldier.

As the days turned into weeks, Bucky's wounds began to heal, though not as quickly as he would have liked. The serum was still working, but its effects were slowing down, leaving him with a lingering sense of vulnerability that was unfamiliar and unwelcome. But with Y/n by his side, the process didn't seem as daunting. She was patient, understanding, and more than anything, she made him feel... human. Her presence became more than just a comforting routine; it became something he looked forward to, a reason to keep fighting, to keep healing.

Y/n, for her part, found herself drawn to Bucky in a way she hadn't expected. There was something about him-his quiet strength, his haunted eyes, the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders-that resonated with her. She could see the pain he tried to hide, the scars that ran deeper than the physical ones, and she wanted to help him, to ease his burden even if just a little.

One evening, as Y/n was finishing up her shift, she found Bucky sitting up in bed, a rare smile playing on his lips. It wasn't the first time she had seen him smile, but it was the first time it felt genuine, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" she asked, her tone light as she walked over to his bedside.

Bucky looked up at her, his blue eyes bright with something she couldn't quite place. "I'm getting discharged tomorrow," he said, the words almost hesitant, as if he wasn't sure how she would react.

Y/n felt a mix of emotions-relief that he was well enough to leave, but also a pang of sadness at the thought of him not being here anymore. "That's great news," she said, her smile warm but tinged with a hint of melancholy.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, though his smile faded slightly as he looked away. "But... I'm gonna miss our talks."

Y/n's heart skipped a beat, the sincerity in his words catching her off guard. She hadn't realized just how much their conversations had come to mean to him. "Me too," she admitted, her voice soft.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the unspoken bond between them growing stronger with each passing second. Then, Bucky cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"Would you, uh, maybe want to grab a coffee sometime?" he asked, his voice almost shy, as if he wasn't sure if she would say yes.

Y/n's heart swelled with a mix of affection and something deeper, something she wasn't quite ready to name yet. "I'd like that," she replied, her smile genuine.

Bucky's relief was palpable, and for the first time since he had arrived at the hospital, he felt like maybe-just maybe-there was a future worth looking forward to.

The next day, when Bucky was discharged, Y/n walked him to the entrance of the hospital. They exchanged numbers, promising to keep in touch, and as Bucky stepped out into the crisp New York air, he couldn't help but feel that something had shifted within him.

He wasn't just leaving the hospital behind; he was leaving behind a part of himself that had been stuck in the past, weighed down by guilt and regret. And in its place, something new was growing-a hope, a possibility, a future that he hadn't dared to dream of in years.

As he walked away, he glanced back one last time, catching a glimpse of Y/n standing in the doorway, watching him with a soft smile on her lips. It was a sight that he would carry with him for days, weeks, and months to come-a reminder that, even in the darkest of times, there was still light to be found.

-----

Six months had passed since Bucky left the hospital, and in that time, he and Y/n had built something together - something real and fragile and beautiful. They had moved into a small but cozy apartment in Brooklyn - not far from where Y/n's father and brother lived - a place that had quickly become a sanctuary for both of them. It wasn't much, but it was theirs, a space where they could be themselves without the weight of the world pressing down on their shoulders.

But as much as Bucky had found peace in this new life, he couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at him every time he looked at Y/n. She had always been a hard worker, dedicated to her job and her family, but lately, it seemed like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Bucky knew about Y/n's family. She had told him about her father, a man who had once been full of life and strength, but who had been worn down by time and illness. Her father had raised her and her younger brother on his own after their mother passed away, working tirelessly to provide for them. But now, the roles had reversed. He was elderly, frail, and needed Y/n's help more than ever.

Then there was Y/n's brother, Austin. He was autistic, a gentle soul who saw the world differently than most. Y/n adored him, had always been protective of him, but his care was demanding. He needed structure, routine, and support that only Y/n seemed capable of providing. She had been his rock, guiding him through life's challenges, ensuring he had everything he needed. But it was exhausting work, both physically and emotionally.

Bucky admired her strength, but he could see the toll it was taking on her. He noticed the way her hands trembled when she thought he wasn't looking, the dark circles under her eyes that no amount of sleep seemed to erase. He had tried to talk to her about it, to ask her to take a step back and rest, but she always brushed him off with a tired smile and a promise that she was fine.

Bucky knew better. He had been in enough battles to recognize when someone was pushing themselves too hard, and Y/n was well past that point. But no matter how much he tried to help, she insisted on carrying the burden alone.

One evening, Bucky was in the kitchen, putting together a simple dinner. The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm, golden light through the windows. He was humming a tune under his breath, something he had picked up from the radio, when he heard the front door creak open.

"Hey, doll," he called out, turning to see Y/n stepping inside. "You're home late."

Y/n gave him a weary smile, her shoulders slumping as she closed the door behind her. "Yeah, it was a long shift," she said, her voice laced with exhaustion.

Bucky frowned, concern etching lines into his face. "You've been pulling too many of those lately," he said gently, crossing the room to take her bag from her hands. "You need to rest."

"I'm fine, Bucky," Y/n replied, though the strain in her voice betrayed her. "Just a little tired."

But as she stepped further into the apartment, Bucky noticed the way her legs wobbled, the way she seemed to be struggling just to stay upright. Before he could say anything, Y/n swayed on her feet, and he rushed forward just in time to catch her as she collapsed into his arms.

"Y/n!" Bucky's voice was filled with panic as he lowered her to the floor, his heart racing in his chest. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, and for a terrifying moment, he feared the worst.

"Y/n, please, wake up," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. His hands were trembling, the fear coursing through him like ice in his veins.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/n's eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him with a dazed expression. "Bucky...?"

"I'm here, doll," Bucky said, relief flooding through him as he cradled her against his chest. "I've got you."

Y/n blinked, confusion clouding her gaze as she tried to sit up. "What happened?"

"You fainted," Bucky said softly, his voice thick with worry. "You've been pushing yourself too hard, and your body just couldn't take it anymore."

Y/n's brow furrowed, and she looked away, shame creeping into her expression. "I'm sorry, Bucky. I didn't mean to scare you."

Bucky shook his head, his grip on her tightening slightly. "Don't apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. I just... I need you to stop doing this to yourself."

Y/n sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder as exhaustion weighed heavily on her. "I can't, Bucky. My dad and my brother... they need me. I have to keep going for them."

Bucky's heart ached at her words. He knew how much her family meant to her, how deeply she cared for them, but he couldn't stand the thought of her destroying herself in the process.

"I understand that," he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. "But you're no good to them if you run yourself into the ground. You need to take care of yourself, too."

Y/n closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek as she whispered, "But who's going to take care of them if I don't?"

Bucky felt a lump form in his throat as he listened to her words, the sheer weight of her responsibility crashing down on him. He knew what it was like to carry a burden like that, to feel like the whole world was resting on your shoulders. But he also knew that no one could carry that weight alone-not even someone as strong as Y/n.

"You're not alone," Bucky said, his voice gentle but firm. "We'll take care of them together. But right now, you need help."

Y/n tried to protest, but before she could say anything, Bucky reached for his phone and quickly dialed 911. "I'm calling an ambulance," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You need to be checked out properly."

"Bucky, no," Y/n murmured weakly, but she didn't have the strength to fight him. Her body was betraying her, exhaustion pulling her down like an anchor.

"I'm not taking any chances," Bucky said softly, his hand trembling slightly as he held the phone to his ear. "You scared me, Y/n. I can't-" His voice broke, and he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I can't lose you."

The minutes that followed felt like a blur. The paramedics arrived, moving quickly as they assessed Y/n's condition and prepared her for transport. Bucky stayed by her side, holding her hand, his heart pounding in his chest as they wheeled her out of the apartment and into the waiting ambulance.

The ride to the hospital was tense, the ambulance filled with the sound of medical equipment and the soft murmur of the paramedics as they worked to stabilize Y/n. Bucky sat beside her, clutching her hand tightly, his mind racing with fear and worry.

When they arrived at the hospital, the paramedics rushed Y/n into the emergency room, and Bucky found himself pacing the hallway outside, his thoughts spinning in a chaotic whirlwind. He had faced down enemies, survived wars, and fought battles that seemed impossible, but nothing had ever terrified him as much as seeing Y/n like this.

Hours passed, and Bucky was eventually allowed into Y/n's room. She was lying in a hospital bed, looking small and fragile under the stark white sheets. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even and calm, but Bucky could still see the signs of exhaustion etched into her face.

A doctor approached him, explaining that Y/n was severely dehydrated and suffering from exhaustion. They had administered fluids and were monitoring her closely, but she would need to rest for several days.

Bucky thanked the doctor, his mind barely registering the words. All he could focus on was Y/n, lying there so still and quiet. He sat down beside her bed, his hand gently resting on hers as he watched her sleep.

Time seemed to stand still in that small, sterile room. Bucky lost track of how long he sat there, his thoughts consumed with worry and guilt. He should have seen this coming, should have done more to help her before it got to this point. But he had been so caught up in his own struggles, in his own fears, that he hadn't realized just how much Y/n was carrying.

As he sat there, the weight of everything hit him all at once. The life they had built together, the challenges they had faced, the love they shared-it was all so precious, so fragile. And in that moment, Bucky knew he couldn't wait any longer.

Without thinking, without planning, he reached for Y/n's hand, holding it tightly in his own as he leaned forward. "Y/n," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

She stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open as she looked up at him. "Bucky...?"

"I'm here," he said softly, his heart pounding in his chest. "And I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

Y/n blinked, still groggy and disoriented, but she could see the intensity in Bucky's eyes, the way his jaw was set with determination. "What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky took a deep breath, his mind racing as he searched for the right words. But in the end, it wasn't about the words. It was about the promise he was about to make, the life he wanted to build with her, the love he felt deep in his soul.

"I love you," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I love you more than anything in this world. And I know I'm not perfect, I know I've got a lot of baggage, but... I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Y/n's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat as she realized what he was saying.

"Y/n, will you marry me?" Bucky asked, his voice filled with raw, unfiltered emotion. "I know this isn't how I wanted to do it, and I don't even have a ring, but... I can't imagine my life without you. I need you, and I want to be with you, through everything."

Tears welled up in Y/n's eyes, her heart swelling with love as she looked up at the man who had become her everything. She didn't care that there wasn't a ring, didn't care that they were in a hospital room instead of some romantic setting. All she cared about was the man in front of her, the man who was offering her his heart, his life, his future.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Yes, Bucky, I'll marry you."

Bucky let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, a wide smile spreading across his face as he pulled her into his arms, holding her as if he would never let go. "You've made me the happiest man in the world," he said, his voice full of awe.

She smiled as she released herself from his arms and reached up, cupping his face in her hands as she pulled him down into a kiss-a kiss that was full of all the love and gratitude she felt for him. In that moment, all the worries and fears melted away, and it was just the two of them, their hearts beating in sync.

They might not have had all the answers, and the road ahead might still be uncertain, but one thing was clear: they were in this together, and nothing could tear them apart.

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known (part 4)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: so much time has passed since you last saw each other. will old feelings come up again once you two find each other again?

warnings: HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, this is so against canon its insane, NSFW (we did it guys we're finally here), switch!reader and switch!miguel, blood mention, fang and claws play, p in v unprotected, cumplay, angsty (i couldnt help it), it goes, angst, smut, and then angsty fluff at the end youre welcome

word count: 3.2k

notes: for some reason, it didn't let me tag as many people who wanted to be on the taglist, so if i didn't end up tagging you for the final part, sorry idk what went wrong

also forgive me i was listening to boygenius while writing the parts leading up to the smut so it might get a little angsty there (i cant help it) (miguel and y/n are so bite the hand and cool about it core)

but then i balanced it out by listening to frank ocean (pyramids specifically) while writing the smut so you're welcome

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Three years had passed. Three years since you finally found Miles, defeated The Spot, and caused the collapse of the Spider Society. Everyone had gone back to their separate dimensions, but were able to still visit each other with their still working portal watches. Miles and Gwen specifically were very happy. Peter B. went back home to live with MJ and Mayday, sending you frequent pictures of Mayday to keep you updates. You were different. You didn’t return to your home world. You didn’t necessarily have anyone to return to per se. Instead, you decided to hop between dimensions, seeing what crime there was to fight in cities that didn’t have anyone to protect it. It was enough to keep you occupied, and as long as your watch still worked, you had the option to stop if you wanted to. Life was nice. You finally had found peace.

But something felt off. Something thudding in the back of your head. Because even though you had been at peace for three years, it had also been three years since you saw him. You had seen him during the final showdown between all of Spider Society, but your team had managed to keep you two apart, due to fear for your safety. After the fight was over, you two had made eye contact with each other a couple of times, but never approached each other. If you were being honest, you were still scared of him at that point, even seeing him tied up there on the floor waiting for someone to deal with him. 

It took a while for your gashes to heal, the ones on your back taking much longer to turn into scars than the ones on your tricep and thigh. The marks on your body were frequent reminders of him and the damage he’s caused to your life. Part of you hated him for it. But most of you just missed him. Unlike Jess, who sent you pictures of her baby every now and then, neither of you had reached out to the other. It was crazy how five years of shared history can be thrown to the ground so quickly.

Right now, you were sitting on the railing of your apartment balcony. For the past month or so, you decided to park it in Earth-3819. There wasn’t much crime going on there, so it was a nice place to stop when you needed a break. Your feet dangled off the edge of the railing, as you looked out to see the sunset on the skyline. The wind blew faintly at your face, causing strands of hair to fall out of your high bun. You had been thinking more about him recently, wondering if he was feeling the same way you were. 

Almost as if you manifested it, you heard the sliding glass door from your bedroom slide open. Startled, you quickly turned around, ready just in case it was an attacker.

It was much worse than an attacker. 

You mouth laid agape as his massive shadow covered your smaller body. Feelings that laid dormant for the past three years suddenly erupting in your stomach. You looked up to the roof of your building as a signal to meet you up there, as you attached a web to the top and swung up there.

Once you were both at the top, you faced your back to him to take time to catch your breath. Your emotions were all over the place right now. “You’re really hard to find, you know,” he said trying to break the silence. You wanted to throw up. As much as you hoped this moment would come, you never realized how unprepared you would be if it ever did. You couldn’t bare to look at him right now, knowing you would lose control of yourself if you did. “You look…good.” How would he know, he only saw your face for a second before you bolted off. You both stood there, the wind growing louder and louder with each second you both stayed silent. 

All of your senses came to a freeze once you felt his hand place itself on your shoulder, causing a flinch from you. “I wanted to find you again, mi vida,” he said in that rich, deep, smooth tone of his that drives you crazy. You could tell he was getting closer when you felt the hairs on your neck stand up from him breathing on them. “I missed you, and I was hoping we could pick up where we left off,” he said into the crook of your neck and began to plant kisses there. You broke free from his grasp by the third kiss he left. “No no no no no, no we can’t. It’s not that simple Miguel,” you said, pinching your bridge and sighing. There's no way he could've thought it would be this easy. He's not this stupid….is he?

“Listen amor, I’m sorry for everything that happened. But the past is the past.” He walked closer to you. “And I want my future with you.” He was up against you again. This time instead of your shoulder, he dragged his finger up and down your back in an almost hypnotic motion. God, you wanted him so bad, you wanted it to be this simple. That he can just apologize and everything could be okay. But you were reminded it couldn't be that way once his finger hit a pressure point in your scar. You swatted your hands in the air and walked away from him again. “No Miguel, that's not how this works. You can just do the things you've done to me and just say sorry and expect it to fix everything. You're not a child.” 

Once you turned around to face him, you saw him standing there like a lost puppy. You just wish he could see what you were talking about. “Don't act like you didn't do horrible things then too. I saw what you did to Jess.” “Don't turn this onto me Miguel. This is about you.” You walked up to him and pressed your finger into his chest. “This is about you, and the horrible things you've done to me! I can't even take a shower anymore without looking at myself in the mirror and seeing your damage!” You lifted up your shirt sleeve. “You did this! This was all you!” Miguel looks down at you with sympathetic eyes as your eyes began to well up. 

“And you can’t just barge in on this life I’ve made for myself and ask for me back because I won't go with you!” You were fully crying at this point, desperately trying to get your words out between sobs and lightly punching at Miguel's chest while he just stared at you. “Because I hate you Miguel! I hate you, okay!” You couldn't manage to talk anymore, overcome with the emotions he caused you to feel. You rested your head on his chest as you continued to sob. He wrapped his arms around you, causing you to do the same to him immediately. You sat there crying into his arms for about a minute, until he lifted up your chin with his finger.

“I’m so sorry I did this to you mi princesa. I’m so sorry. But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” Overtaken by emotion, you grab his face and crash your lips into his. Almost instinctively, his hands find a home onto your hips. You pull away for a second. “Just stop talking already,” you say breathlessly. He rushes to connect the two of your lips again, already going as far as to slip his tongue in between your lips. He’s so passionate about everything he does. His hands hold a tight grip on your body as his tongue explores your mouth. Almost like he’s hungry for you. No, not hungry. Starving. Famished. Three years apart was too much for him to stand without you by his side or in his bed. He needed you desperately. Like his life depended on if he was going to be able to fuck you into your bed tonight or not. 

He let out moans as your hands ran through and tugged on his hair. But as soon as his claws came out and dug into your hips, you pulled your mouth off of his, a string of saliva still connecting you two. “No claws Miguel. Bring them out again, and its over okay.” You still weren’t mentally over his attack against you. He nods. “Of course, baby.” With that said, you let go of him to walk over to the edge of the building. Once your at the edge, you signal him over. He follows, almost as if he’s under some spell. You attach one of your webs to your balcony railing below and use it as a guide to fall down to it. You land on your balcony, Miguel following close behind as you open the sliding door to your bedroom.

After you close the door and blinds, you turn to find Miguel almost hovering over you. He looked like some kind of lost dog the way he kept following you around, begging for more of you. You gently kiss him and guide him over to your bed. He sits down on the edge of the bed and begins to pull your hoodie off your head as you help him take off his suit. Once your sweatpants are off as well, you gently push him onto his back on your bed. Goosebumps form all over your body, partially from exposure to the cold air in your room, and partially from seeing him like this underneath you again. Finally, you take his already hard cock, and slide it into your hole, causing a rough groan out of him as you begin to rock on his hips.

You take things nice and slow while you’re in control, knowing the moment you get sloppy he’ll start to take over for you. You kissed down his neck and collarbone as you rode him, with him gripping hard at your back and your hips. “Nng, m-missed you s-so much amor,” he groaned out. “Tan hermosa.” You begin to speed your thrusting, tugging at his hair to get strained noises out of him. His hands make their way up to your back, digging into your skin. But your quick to rip his hands out of your back and pin them above his head once his talons come out again, into your back this time. You also take your lips off of his and stop your thrusting.

Miguel searched your face for some kind of explanation to the sudden stop, to find you panting and nearly frozen still. You’re taken back to that fight, a result from his claws finding a way into your scars. You’re pulled back to reality by Miguel’s voice. “Amor, que paso?” he asks with concern. You quickly wipe the sweat off your face and look into his beautiful crimson eyes. You wanted to forget the pain he caused you all those years ago, but unfortunately you couldn’t. But, you were willing to forgive him though. “Nothing Miggy,” you say gently, pressing a soft kiss onto his lips. He tries to move his hands back onto you, but finds his hands still trapped to the headboard. He looks at you confused. “What did I say about the claws, Miguel.” 

“Ay, baby you know its hard for me to control them around you,” he says, slightly annoyed, driven by the need to touch you again. “Well you’re going to need to try to okay? For now though, you’re going to stay like this.” His face drops, and he makes a sound almost like a whine. “Ay coño, lo siento péro you don’t need to punish me.” You felt powerful hearing him whine and beg like this. You were denying a starving man of his woman, his source of energy. 

Arms squirmed in your hand, as you began to rock on top of him again. You made sure to not kiss him either, moving away whenever he would try to place his mouth onto yours. He whined as you picked up your speed, desperate to feel you again. “P-please, let me go cariño.” You moved your mouth down and whispered in his ear, running your finger up and down his stomach, causing him to melt under you and whimper like a madman. “Not just yet,” you whispered seductively, sending extra chills down his spine and into his stomach when you bit into his ear lobe.

Overcome with your own urge to feel him, you accidentally let go of his hands and moved yours to grab hold of each of his pecs as you planted kisses over his sternum. Suddenly, you’re overswept as Miguel is freed and takes control over the situation. “I love you amor, but you have to let me touch your,” he says in that beautiful, rich tone of his before he goes at his own pace: slamming himself into you. 

He goes much faster than you did, and you almost come there on the spot as he nearly breaks your bed with his ferocity. You grip onto his enormous triceps for leverage as you let out a series of incoherent moans. “You like that, huh?” he pants out. You shove your lips onto his to get him to stop talking. “I-if you’re gonna do this, n-ngh, you’re gonna have to s-hh-ut up,” you manage to get out in between your almost inhumane sounds. He nods and shoves his tongue into your mouth, exploring the insides of your cheeks while his tip slams into your walls, causing that white heat to begin to build up in your stomach.

His hands swarm across your body, making up for lost time before, and eventually land on your breasts as he begins to palm at them. Just as you thought he couldn’t arouse you any more than he already has, he moves his mouth along your jawline, down to your neck, and begins to mark it with kisses and slight sucking. “I-I missed you too, Miggy.” 

That nickname you had for him drove him crazy. So crazy in fact, his next move was to drive his fangs into your neck, making sure to not let his poison seep into your neck. He presses his lips and sucks on the skin on your neck while sinking his fangs deeper into you. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, as you held onto his broad shoulders while he basically slammed you into the bed. “Oh Miguel,” you moaned out. He nodded, not able to speak, due to his fangs still being attached to your neck. You could tell he was getting close too with how sloppy his pace was getting. 

You’re washed over with bliss when the heat in your stomach finally takes over the rest of your body, almost clawing at Miguel while you come. His hands put more pressure on your breasts as he comes as well, moaning into the softness of your neck. Once you two have both finished, he slowly pulls his teeth out of your neck, and licks up the metallic liquid with his warm, delicate tongue. He slowly pulls his cock out of the sweetness of your cunt and rolls over to lay next to you on the bed, dragging his fingers across your pussy, taking the cum his fingers picked up and putting it in his mouth.

He plants a kiss onto your forehead before saying, “One second, princesa, I’ll be right back,” as he got up to go to the bathroom. He must have been in there for about 10 minutes before coming back into your room and reaching out his hand for yours. You take his hand as he leads you out of bed, reminded of how naked you are when you reveal yourself from the sheets.

He leads you into the bathroom to see that hes drawn a bath for the two of you. You blush slightly at the gesture, as he gets in first and leads you in. The touch of the water numbs your body slightly with the mixture of the cold room to the hot bath water. You almost melt as you sink in, laying your back against Miguel’s chest as he wraps his arms around your body. You could fall asleep right here, mixed between the comfort of the bath water, and Miguel’s body finally against yours again. The bathtub was kind of small, so his body was taking up most of the space, causing him to basically engulf you. 

You were surrounded in him, his lips almost attached to the nape of your nack, his arms consuming your upper half, and his legs intwining with your lower half. He wiggles slightly to reach the soap, puts it in the water to wet it, and lathers it onto your body. First, he washes your arms, rubbing the soap back and forth over your arm hairs, and even under your armpits. Next, he moves to wash your chest. He takes the soap and moves it over your breasts and your underboob, causing you to move in closer to him. His response is to peck kisses into the crook of your neck, getting little giggles out of you. You stop giggling though after he stops kissing you and stays still for a second. 

You wait in silence for him to do something. “...Miggy…you okay?” you ask when he doesn’t say anything. You turn your head slightly to see him. Out of your peripherals, you see him staring solemnly at your back. He’s finally seen them. The four almost perfectly placed scars warping across your back. They were huge. And he knows they’re from him. You turned your head back to the front and dug it in between your knees, pushing out your back even more. Miguel delicately traced his fingers over them, as you waited curled up for him to say something. “I’m sorry,” is all he can manage to weakly push out. 

You decide to turn your body around to face him, splashing water around in the cramped bathtub while doing so. His eyes are down with sadness creeping over his face. You cup his cheek with your hand and press a loving, gentle kiss onto his lips. You bring his arms over your shoulders and wrap your legs around his hips. You wanted to be engulfed by him. You were so pressed on staying mad at him for so many years that you forgot how much you loved being this close to him. You could hear his heart softly beating as you pressed your head against his chest. He soon wrapped his arms around your body, taking you into him, and dug his head into the crook of your neck, almost as if he was hiding. 

You stayed there for a moment before eventually turning back around. You laid your head in a position so you could still see his face if you looked up. You could feel yourself slowly dozing off in his arms. Your last thoughts before you slipped out of consciousness was of how perfect this was. 

You had found your home again. Moreso, he found his way to you. And this time, you were never going to let go.

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a/n: i just wanted to say thank you to everyone for sticking around during this series. i know it wasn't meant to be 4 parts and only 2 so i really appreciate everyone who stuck around for the whole thing. make sure to look out for my next thing cause i wanna start writing an enemies to lover oc x miguel thing so please go and support that once thats out. thanks guys!!!!

taglist: @jenniferdixon05207 @sweetanimebakery @azxulaa @daimiyu @vinkar345 @pinkninja200 @luvstich @rin-matsuoka345-blog @lillunna @konniebon @hwanunjin @simp-nerd-16 @chucklefuvk @elwyn7 @haileybxxr @ilovemymomscooking @lansy-4 @maxi-ride @d4rno @callsign-blue @obamnas-soda @sophipet @violentlyneon @d1lf-loverrr @afro-hispwriter @kirke-is-my-name @ilovemiguelohara @lavnderluv @konniebon @msecho19 @kiamewrites

[fanwarriorfictions]

Help Me, Help You - Part Eight

Fenrys x F!reader

Summary- The reveal of Y/n’s powers leave both her and Fenrys reeling in the aftermath

Warnings- Panic attack(this is very dramatized, not exactly like a real panic attack), angsty as hell, I’m sorry

Series Masterlist

Part Eight

You’re a healer.

Two voices blending into one. One face, dark and covered in the blood of his own father, another face, golden and staring at her with a mixture of confusion and horror.

One, her brother, the one she’d just met, the one who’d saved her from the cold grip of death, who’d tried to hold her back the moment she’d seen her parents, slaughtered in her living room. Had watched in horror as she’d crawled through their blood, screaming for them.

One, Fenrys, the male who stood there, unnaturally still, only his eyes moving between her and the reflection of his face, where a scar should have been. The one that had been on his cheek, the one she’d felt below her palm when his lips had been stealing the breath from her lungs.

The scar had been severe, made by the brutal lashings of a dead queen, had stayed because he wished it, hadn’t let any of the talented healers from the torre, not even Yrene, touch the wound. He’d done that for a reason, Fenrys hadn’t told her but she could guess, and she had taken it away, at least a majority of it.

The section above his eye remained, only just beginning to heal into the smooth skin that matched the unmarked side of his face. It looked like a scar that had been healing for years, not months.

“You’re a healer,” Fenrys breathed again, not a question but a statement, “A healer.”

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing she could say, choking on the words, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, Fenrys, I’m sorry.”

Fenrys finally moved then, flinching away from his reflection, away from her. He turned, on unsteady feet, as if he would make a run for the door.

She felt like collapsing, “I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Fenrys asked, finally finding more words, he searched her face as if he didn’t know who she was.

“I- I couldn’t,” she tripped over the words, how would she explain this to him? “She could- I wasn’t. I didn’t mean to.”

Fenrys seemed to connect his own dots, “It’s why you avoided the Torre, why you were so scared of it.”

It was the simplified reason, but yes, the tower of healers had nearly paralyzed her in fear when she’d seen it. And the idea of stepping foot in the white stone structure had her shaking with terror.

Y/n couldn’t stop the flow of tears down her face, and she almost sobbed when Fenrys lifted a hand to his cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried again, a broken sound tearing from her chest, a guttural moan of pain.

Fenrys looks completely torn, as if there was a raging war inside his mind, she couldn’t tell what side was winning. The horror, at what she’d done, or whatever feelings he might have had for her.

“Gods, y/n,” Fenrys said, and he took a step towards her, stopping when she cried harder, louder, “It’s okay, it’s fine.”

It was far from fine, the lie was evident in his voice no matter how much he tried to hide it. She’d taken away his scar, taken away his choice, it wasn’t alright, none of it was.

“Please, I didn’t mean too,” she sobs, “Fenrys I swear, I didn’t-“

“I know, kitten, I know. It’s okay, I’m okay.”

She could feel it now, how her whole body was trembling, violently shaking as she took a step away from him, as if she could hide from what she had done, what she’d revealed.

It’s alright, stop it, come back, they’re gone, what are you doing, stop, you’re a healer, a healer, healer.

Her brother’s voice from all those years ago slammed into her. The memories of her mother, dead in her father’s arms, his blank lifeless eyes staring at her. The way it had felt to lay her healing hands on them to find nothing left to save.

“Breathe, Y/n,” Fenrys told her, “You gotta breathe.”

You’re a healer. Stop. You can’t bring them back. Healer. You can’t use your power. Healer. She’ll take you.

“Kitten, calm down,” Fenrys ordered her, his voice sounding like a wall of glass was separating them, “You gotta breathe.”

Healer…She’ll hurt you…

Who will?

“Hey!”

Maeve…

And the world went black.

Fenrys had panicked, when he’d seen her eyes roll back, seen her body collapse to the floor before he’d been able to catch her, screaming for help despite the late hour.

A guard had rushed into the room, he hadn’t even had time to speak before Fenrys was snarling at him to grab a healer, that he didn’t care if he had to rip one out of their bed in the Torre.

Fenrys had cradled her head in his lap, off of the hard floor. She looked near lifeless, if it wasn’t for the shallow rise and fall of her chest. He monitored her closely, counting the seconds between each breath, counting his own.

Fenrys was still reeling from the shock. Seeing his face, his brothers, healed again after nearly a year. He’d almost forgotten what he truly looked like without it, had resigned himself to never see himself again, was happy of it, deserving of it.

But it was gone, most of it at least, the section above his brow had remained, still carving its path towards his hairline, a the edges softer, less jagged.

It had begun to heal, the edges smoothing over, but she’d stopped before taking the whole of it away.

A healer, she was a healer, and a powerful one at that. To take scars that were already set by his fae healing, and make them disappear without a trace, without even thinking, completely on accident.

She was nearly as powerful as Yrene, maybe even stronger due to her fae heritage. And she’d hidden it away, clearly terrified of her own magic.

And that was the strangest part. He couldn’t figure out why she would be scared of it, the gift of healing was renowned, was one of the most sought out powers in the world, but she was terrified of it, ashamed of it.

When the poor tired looking healer had arrived, he let her look over Y/n, moving the female to the bed instead of the floor. Once she was safely settled on the soft mattress he moved back just far enough for the woman to do her evaluation.

“She’s alright, a panic attack,” the healer said simply, “hit her head when she fell but she shouldn’t have much more than a headache when she wakes, I-.”

“When will she?”

The healer gave Fenrys a patient smile, like she found his fussing amusing, “she may sleep the rest of the night, she may wake in a few minutes, let her rest.”

It was the last thing he wanted to do, he had to many questions, to many things he wanted to say, wanted to do. He wanted to know why she hadn’t told him, why she was so scared of her power, he wanted to tell her he didn’t blame her for taking away his scar, didn’t hate her for it despite the raging storm of emotion in him, he wanted to kiss her again and feel her soft lips on his own.

“What happened?” Sartaq’s breathless voice reached him, the prince searching the room with wide eyes, “Is she okay, what-“

And then he stopped, his eyes flaring wide as he took in Fenrys. Took in the smooth golden skin.

“Gods,” the prince breathed.

“Everything is fine,” Fenrys says, struggling to keep his chin up, to not duck his head down, to hide.

“You may go,” Sartaq turned to the healer and the guard who had brought her, “Thank you for your help.”

“It is my pleasure,” the woman bowed her head to the crown prince.

Sartaq waited till the healer and the guard had left before he spoke again, “Fenrys, what happened? Are you okay?”

Was he okay? Truly? With the scar he’d chosen for himself nearly gone? With the female who had taken it laying unconscious in his lap from the sheer panic and agony from doing it?

“No,” Fenrys said simply, “I’m not, but it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter, my friend,” Sartaq argues, “Of course it matters.”

Fenrys shook his head, “She didn’t mean to, she didn’t know why I kept it, it’s not her fault.”

It wasn’t, how was she to know that he kept that scar as a punishment, not from Maeve, but from Connall. Kept it as if the knife he’d driven into his chest was what carved the wound into Fenrys’s face. As if his brother had spoken his final scathing thoughts and branded Fenrys with them.

“What do you mean?” Sartaq looked between them, asking again, “What happened?”

“She’s a healer,” Fenrys whispers, suddenly worried that he would wake her, and that the word would cause her to panic again, “She didn’t meant to do it, she was, we were-“

Sartaq seemed to connect the dots, “She wasn’t exactly in control of herself, was she?”

Fenrys hadn’t even been in control of himself, he’d been so caught up in her that he’d been seconds away from taking her to the bed she now laid unconscious. For months, he hadn’t been able to even think of taking someone to bed, but he’s almost done it, almost crossed that invisible line, for her.

“Did you know?” Sartaq asked.

Fenrys only shook his head, “No, I didn’t.”

Violet eyes she’d never seen before, staring at her, claiming her.

“What do we have here,” the voice, young yet ancient, wicked and enchanted.

“A little cat from the west,” she said, circling, stalking, “Hiding under my nose, beneath the wings of one of my soldiers.”

Paralyzed, unable to move, she could only watch those eyes as they trailed over her.

“Where is big brother now?” the creature asks, “No longer protecting you, hiding you beneath his wings, no one to save you now.”

Alone, she was entirely alone in this world.

“I will have you,” the queen said, “my little healer.”

“No!” She cried out, “No, no, no!”

Scrambling away from those eyes, finally free from whatever invisible chains held her down.

“Woah,” a voice, not the creatures “Hey, you’re alright, Y/n, calm down.”

A warm hand around her wrist, a shackle, a captor. He was with her, she realized, he served the queen, he would take her.

“No, no, no,” she sobs, “please, please let me go, don’t touch me, please!”

That hand ripped away from her like it had been burned, as if her skin was aflame, she wished she’d been born with fire in her veins instead of healing, she’d be able to fight her way out of this.

“Hey, you’re alright,” that voice said again, softer than before, “you’re alright, kitten, it was a dream.”

That nickname broke through some of the haze, she recognized it, felt the golden warmth that came with it.

“It was a dream,” he said again, “it’s okay, kitten, you’re okay.”

Her eyes finally took in her surroundings, the ornate room, the massive bed, the male sitting before her, another by the door.

She shied away from the second man, not quite familiar with him compared to the golden male before her. His onyx eyes were comforting, searching her own with intense curiosity.

“It’s okay, kitten,” he said, that nickname stirring her foggy mind, “you’re safe.”

“Fen?” Her mind finally supplied the name, “I- I don’t-“

“You’re okay.” Fenrys shifted closer to her, “You had a panic attack, passed out and bumped your head, you’re okay.”

Slowly, the memories started to right themselves, as if her brain had finally caught up with her. Riding with Kashin, arguing with Fenrys, kissing him, oh gods, kissing him, and healing him.

Her eyes snap to the smooth surface of his cheek, she’d taken his scar away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

His eyes shutter for only a moment, telling her all she needed to know. She’d taken away his scar, taken it without thought, and none of it was alright, she’d ruined everything.

“It’s okay,” Fenrys says, interrupting her spiraling mind, “Kitten, I swear, I know you didn’t mean to.”

“But I did it anyway,” she says softly, her voice broken.

Those onyx eyes keep searching her, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The fear wrapped around her chest, binding her, restricting her lungs. A warm hand around her wrist, a comfort, a friend, a tether to keep her from drowning.

“I was scared,” she gasps, drawing in a large breath, “I’ve been scared my whole life, since the day Vaughan rescued me from that lake.”

She realized that the crown prince was still standing by the door, his eyes averted but body still, listening. She wanted him to leave, didn’t want to share this with anyone but Fenrys.

Y/n forced herself to keep talking, “Since the day he realized I was a healer, when I’d crawled through their blood and tried to heal my parents, murdered by his own father.”

Fenrys gently squeezed her wrist, a quiet reassurance that he was there, that he was listening, that he understood that pain, that she was safe.

“Maeve was known to collect healers, keep them like pets,” Y/n says shakily, “Vaughan knew that she would take me too, he’d already been serving her for a century by that point, he knew what she did to her pets.”

The hand at her wrist shook a little, and she knew that he’d been one of hers, didn’t know exactly what she had done to him, beyond what he’d told her of his brother’s death, but she knew there was more.

“We hid my powers, hid me,” she continued, “No one in Doranelle knew I existed anyway, to keep me safe, he kept his visits short, he didn’t speak of me to anyone, and I hid in that village, in the cottage my parents died in, by the lake I’d almost drowned in, terrrified that the queen would come and take me at any moment. I never used my power, even by myself, over time, I guess my fear of Maeve turned into fear of myself, of healers.”

She didn’t blame her brother for any of it, but she recognized that her fear, her lack of control, was because of him hiding her away, locked in that little village by herself for nearly a century and a half.

The last time she’d seen him, she had begged him to stay with her, to do anything to keep her from losing her mind. But he’d refused, to keep her safe, away from Maeve, and she’d told him to never come back.

And she’s spent the last twenty years by herself, hoping he’d come home, and when he didn’t, even after Maeve had been slain, she knew he never would.

“She’s gone,” Fenrys said gently, his free hand lifting to her cheek, “she can’t hurt you anymore, I swear it, kitten, I drove the sword through her chest myself.”

She wondered if he told himself those words everyday, if that’s why he kept the scars, as a reminder that no matter what she’d done to him, he was the one who survived. And the creature that haunted both of their nightmares was dead, and never coming back.

Tag List

@emma-andrea1 @mgchaser @anxious-study @lees-chaotic-brain @girl-math-aint-mathing @mali22 @nikt-wazny-y @theworthlessqueen @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @lethargicluv @hannzoaks @batboygirlie @foxysouls @kiarathace

[imaginesmai]

I love you - Azriel

Maybe I got carried away, maybe this is not my best work. But I needed to write this and here it is! Let me know if you like it, and if you have any idea for requests!

Plot: after the worst possible outcome after one of your missions, Azriel comes back to you, trying to fix what was broken.

Azriel hesitated to even go home for the night. Part of him wondered if it would be a better idea to sleep it off at Mor’s, maybe crash with Cassian and Nesta. Even risk getting an infection and go to the soldiers’ barricade to wait until sunrise.

Then, he would be sure that you’re off to work again. He was beaten, bruised and bloody, and through normally the blood wasn’t mostly his, that time it was coming from gashes everywhere around his torso.

He looked once more at the faint light in your shared room, at your form reading in the divan with your feet tucked under your legs. The sight was enough to ease the pain of the week, to make up his mind about finally going home.

After a week in the Illyrian camps, he thought he deserved it.

“Damn it”

As soon as he put a foot inside your apartment, he heard you curse, throw the book to the ground and rush to the entrance. Azriel didn’t have time to do anything but close the door behind him before you appeared.

In your nightgown, with no socks on and messy hair, you looked like a heavenly sight. Azriel gave you a small smile, the first he had muttered in a week. But not as full or confident as the ones he gave you a months ago.

“Az” you whined. “Please, tell me that’s not your blood”

“Sorry. Would have crashed at the Wind House, but –“

“Damn it, Az!”

You weren’t angry at him, he knew. Anger was your way of showing concern, frustration, and the rest of pent-up emotions you had felt during the last two months. Usually, when he came home battered and hurt, you were besides him, leaning against his side and sharing stories about the battle. Usually, you would return to a cold house and warm it together, after long missions together.

But that was not your reality anymore.

Azriel watched you walk from the bedroom’s door to him, still not steady on your feet. It made him want to go back to the camp kill them all again slower, crueler. He waited until you were besides him. It only took him a few days to understand you needed your space, that you needed to learn how to move once more.

How to live without the extra weight of your wings behind you, now only horrible, scarred skin on your back.

“How bad is it?” you asked your hands on his shoulders. Maybe it was for his comfort, or for your support. You just started undoing the straps on his shoulders, that held together the protection vest.

“They got a few good hits, but I’m fine. Just need a bath to clean them before they heal” he whispered, his voice rough. “Wanna join me?”

 “Where are they?”

You ignored his invitation, just as you had ignored the last twenty times he had proposed anything to do with you naked. As you unfastened his vest, belt and jacket, Azriel stared at you.

It felt weirdly nice to see you so focused and worried, trying to find the hidden wounds on his body. Even though he felt the pain and soreness in every inch of his body, it was a nice change from your usual demeanor.

Azriel looked away from you to the fire that was still burning, to the half-eaten dinner on the table. It was his home, had been for the last century. And still, he felt himself looking at it through stranger’s eyes.

“This one is pretty deep” you muttered, brushing your fingers against a gash on his collarbone that finished close to his armpit. “And it’s caked in mud”

“They didn’t sweep the floor before I arrived, can you believe it?”

Without your brain’s permission, you snorted a laugh. Azriel’s body went tense under your arms, and for a moment, you feared having hurt him. Only, when you looked at him, there was only surprise and shock on his tired eyes.

You pressed your lips together, almost regretting the sudden outburst. It had been strange for you too, as if there was someone else laughing from inside your body. Someone that you had been before, but now was lost.

“I guess you need a bath”

Going back to your previous task, Azriel couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. The pain and tiredness had evaporated, and now he could only repeat in his head that snort. It hadn’t been feminine, hadn’t been lovely. Still, if you were really a heavenly sight, then that was the sound of heaven’s bells.

He fell into a trance and only woke up when you patted his naked chest. You had left his underwear on, but the rest of his clothes were on the ground, now stained with blood and dirt. After a century of being a mated couple, you were more than comfortable around each other’s bodies.

You should have been around yours, but Azriel had yet to see the scars on your back.

The week of the events were blurry on his mind, foggy in a haze of panic, terror and rage. Azriel remembered feeling a shattering pain through the bond while you were visiting Illyrian camps, then Rhys winnowing him and Cassian through multiple locations until they found you. Almost five hours later, when nothing could be done.

The picture of you lying in a pool of blood, naked from the waist up and tied to a pole was printed into his memory. Azriel remembered himself crying, sobbing, screaming and begging as they took you back to the house, your attackers nowhere in sight. Remembered Madja with tears in her eyes telling them that it hadn’t been a normal clipping, that it would take you long to recover.

He could only remember the open wounds on your back, muscle and bone sticking out, only your Fae inheritance keeping you alive. Azriel had yet to see how it looked now.

“You should take that bath now, before they start healing” you said, taking a step away from him. “See if we should call Madja”

“There’s no need. I’ll be fine in the morning”

The fire crackling was the only sound in the apartment as you two stared at each other. He had been the one gone for a week, yet the bags under your eyes rivaled his. Azriel was lost without you, and navigated blind the new situation you had been forced to adapt to.

In the past was now the anger, the rage and protectiveness. He had tried to find your attackers everywhere, but they had vanished. He had found their friends, people who had witnessed the carnage and cheered on them. They all lay dead, forgotten, in the mountains, where their bodies and souls would find no rest.

And while he was sure he would find those responsible of the attack and make them pay, now you two had to adapt.

During the past month, you had often refused his presence more than what it was necessary. He kind of expected for you to go back to bed, and find you in the farthest side of it when he came back.

However, you didn’t move.

“They should have swept the floors” you started. “You’ve got dirt all over your hair”

“You already know us Illyrian males are brutes” Azriel smiled again, this time wider. He extended his arms slowly, not fully believing you were there and not about to bolt away. “Come with me to the bath”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea”

“Darling, please.”

Silver lines appeared under your eyes, and your breath started to speed up. In the last months, Azriel had watched you cry and scream, sob in his shoulder until you had fallen asleep, and his own tears had mixed with your own.

“Let’s have a bath together. I’ll let you scorch me with hot water and I won’t complain about the shampoo. And then I’ll cook something and eat together.”

“Az…”

“Please, Y/N”

Before it happened, before you were so brutalized by them, you used to bath together. A tube big enough to fit both of your wings, where you could lay against his back and kiss him until you were all wrinkled.

More than anything else, Azriel missed that. Part of it was his fault for spending so much time outside your house, haunting down the animals that hurt you. He wouldn’t rest until they met their death by his hand, and if the information he had gathered during the week was correct, it would happen sooner than later.

Ready for your rejection, he wasn’t expecting the small nod nor the silent steps you took until your head was resting on the crook of his shoulder. It wasn’t the first time you had hug, yet it was the first time you had hugged him. Azriel didn’t hesitate for long, and wrapped his bandaged arms around your middle, bringing you closer to him.

Without your wings, you were easier to hug than before. There would be no more wings’ brushing or tangling, but he held you as tight as he used to.

“I love you” you whispered, sucking a breath to keep you from breaking down once more. “I love you”

“I love you too, more than anything” he answered back.

The blood and grime were staining your nightgown, but you didn’t complain as he quietly picked you up and led you to the bathroom.

Between the wings and the grief, you had lost much weight. It made it easier to climb up his torso and nestle on his chest, your legs wrapped around his waist. Although any other time it would lead to other type of activities, Azriel only held you tight and got the water running.

Through the nightgown, where he was holding your waist, he could feel the end of your scars. Where your wings had ended, where they had ripped them. Azriel felt the rough edges of the scar, still swollen and probably sore, so he tried to be gentle.

The male ignored his own pains and aches as he prepared the bath like he used to. Even if he had shared more tears lately than during his whole life, he couldn’t help the knot on his throat as he held you close with one arm.

Your warmth, your smell, felt familiar. Like home. The bond had been nothing but pain and sorrow, but as he carried you around the bathroom, he soaked in the comfort you emanated through it.

“It’s ready” he said eventually, when the tub was full. Slowly, he let you touch the ground, though his hand found your cheek. “Do you want me to turn around?”

“No” you didn’t break eye contact. “It’s okay”

His left hand managed to touch any part of your skin while you took the nightgown off, letting it fall to the ground. Azriel kept his hand steady, but his eyes traveled quickly across every inch of your skin. From your shoulders to your ribs, from the scars he already knew to the new ones in your knees and wrists.

You turned around to get in the bathtub, and Azriel felt his power roaring inside him, screaming at him to let go. Destroy something, anything. Destroy the world for being such a cruel place and letting it happen to you, destroy everyone until you were the only one standing, safe and sound.

It took him all his willpower to stay still as he watched where your wings were. The place he had teased so often, with the pads of his fingers as you squirmed under him. Now, there were two long, wide and irregular scars. The new skin had tried to regenerate the space between the wounds, and it was all pink and wrong.

Azriel would never say it out loud, but the scared boy inside him begged for running away. For ignoring the problems, the pain, and pretend for a little longer it was all just like before.

But he forces himself to watch them, to watch you as you winced when the hot water covered the scars. As soon as you were inside, he dropped his underwear and got besides you.

“Why are you standing so far away?” he opened his arms for you to get closer, but you only stared at him. “Y/N. Come here”

“They’re really ugly, Az” you almost cut him off. It was the first time you ever talked about the scars. “And – I try not to, notice them. But they’re rough and maybe it feels wrong against your chest”

“They won’t feel wrong”

“Maybe they do. Maybe you can’t stand the feeling and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable”

“Without you here, I am uncomfortable”

Azriel didn’t let you argue further, taking your arm and dragging you where you belonged – between his open legs, your back against his chest, his head on your neck. The skin there was soft and warm, nothing like the feeling of your back against his chest. Your scarred, rough back, that had him swallow a breath.

His arms circle your body close to him, lips on your shoulder. Your wings had been much smaller than his, so in the past you had used that position many times. He already missed the accidental bumps against your wings when you moved them, the additional warmth.

“I love you” he repeated for what it felt like the thousand time.

“And I – “

“No, let me finish. I love you, darling. With or without wings, and what those monsters did doesn’t change the fact that this, right here, is my home. With you. Always” his arm, that was wrapped around your middle, brought you closer to him. “I love your toes, and how you scrunch them when you excited. And your knees and legs, when you wrap them around me and I feel”

Being so close to you made him feel complete again. As if he had lost a part of himself with your wings and had finally found it again. There were no sounds beside your breathing, no lights but the moon and the candles. Nothing else but you in his arms.

Testing the waters, he pressed his lips higher, where you neck and shoulder met. They were chapped, rough, but you leaned back and let him free access. If you let him, he knew, he would kiss every inch of your body before the sun came up.

“I love your thighs so much, and your hips. If I could, I would physically attach my arm around them and never let you go” he continued. “I love your belly so, so much. How sensitive it is and how ticklish”

You scoffed and shifted when Azriel ran his fingers through your lower belly, but didn’t move away. If anything, you ended up closer to him. He closed his eyes, breathed your scent, and left another kiss higher in your neck.

“And I could spend hours talking about how much I love your breasts. But behind them, I love your heart more than anything, Y/N. How compassionate, and brave, and caring you are. Y/N, nothing, and I mean nothing, will make me love you less”

“I feel so, so embarrassed” you confessed suddenly. One of your hands was holding his, and you squeezed. “I had gotten so far with them. They… I survived adolescence, I thought I was safe. And I was trained! I was supposed to –“

“You were supposed to nothing. What happened wasn’t your fault more than mine for not being there sooner” Azriel cut you off.

It was silent for a moment, where Azriel didn’t move from your neck. Once he felt like he wouldn’t snap the world in two if he moved, he turned your head with his free hand so he could look at you.

Once more, there were tears on your eyes. Tired, frustrated tears. But also so much love and trust in him that made him dizzy.

“What happened, doesn’t change your value as a warrior, as a person. As my mate” he looked between your lips and eyes, willing to repeat it as many times as you wanted. “It doesn’t change how much I love you, darling. How much I’m ready to give up for you only to make you see yourself the way I do”

Azriel held his breath for a second, waiting for you to say something. Either to keep the conversation, to step out of the tub or to turn your head away. It was the longest talk you two had had until now.

What he didn’t expect was for you to move forward until your lips met his. They were just as he remembered – as watching Starfall or witnessing a wish come true. They fit perfectly with his own, noses brushing each other while he trapped your upper lip between his own.

The first tear rolled down his cheek before he could control it, and he moved you two around so you were more comfortable. Your scent changed, gone the bitter taste of fear and replaced by sweetness of your love that he had grown used to.

“I love you” you repeated against hips lips, not moving away. “I love you”

“More than anything, darling” he answered back before linking your lips together one more time.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[blindaysblogforturtles]

Everyone's doin it, why shouldn't I? I've got things to say! And unfortunately, Cass cant just draw as if she is a camera looking at them the whole time. So, we still get space for fic!

Hope you like it. It's like, the first time in months I finish a wip. And in record time! You did this, Cass. Thank you so much.

@somerandomdudelmao

It was happening. The red eared slider started small, and grew, and grew, and Donatello tightened his grip on the mug containing what was essentialy his brother's soul. He could allow him to go in, now. Just a little push.

But. What if something went wrong? What if Leo got lost in the way? What if he faded? He was stronger now, but still so fragile.

Raph smiled.

"Trust him, Donnie. He's got this." Raph avoided mentioning Mikey's concerns about the process, things he said only for the sake of confiding into someone else. It wouldn't do any good to make Donnie more anxious.

Donatello sighed and took his hand off the mug, using his ninpo to gently nudge Leo's into his new body. It rebelled, the little flame attached to his field. Scared. I don't want to be alone again, it said. Please. Donnie smiled. You won't. Trust me. He answered back. And after a few seconds of hesitation, the flame complied.

With the source in it, the body grows into the Leo he remembered. Or. Almost. He was healthy, because of course he was, he wasn't about to make a new body just for it to be shitty- but somehow smaller... thinner. Maybe he did something wrong- maybe, maybe Leo's soul didn't have enough energy to become himself-

But then he saw how Casey's eyes stared adoringly at the pod. Casey, who also had more scars and less pounds than he remembered. Donnie hadn't noticed much through his cameras- better yet, he had, but seeing it in person...

Suddently the alarm went off, signalling it was time to take his Lime-o-nardo Pie out of the oven. God, that was awful. Leo would absolutely love it.

With a gentleness only a biological body could muster, Raph lifted Nardo from his pod onto his arms, with a gaze so soft and proud Donnie thought he was about to cry.

They all hovered with warm smiles ready to welcome the leader in blue, barely containing the excitement in being all together again.

Except.

Nothing happened. Casey frowned and before Donnie could say or do anything, gently placed his fingers on his sensei's neck. He gasped.

"What? What happened?!" Raph asked barely below the yelling tone.

"His heartbeat." Casey replied in a whisper. "It's slow. Too slow." He looked at Donnie. "There's something wrong."

Raph quickly set Leo down after a quick nod from Donatello, who put on his goggles and started scanning to find whatever was his brother's ailment. A tense silence followed soon after.

"What... what is the problem?" Asked Casey. He was trembling into Raph's reassuring arms, never once looking away from his sensei. Donnie frowned.

"The good news is, nothing is physically wrong." He answered. "The bad news is, nothing's physically wrong."

There was a pregnant pause.

By Donnie's orders, Raph moved Leo to the place supposed to serve as his bedroom. Donnie tried every possible test he knew, from reflexes to blood test, to little slaps on his face, to begging. Leo's heartbeat was weak and frail. Like his ninpo had been.

This was all his fault. He should've given him more time, should've waited for Mikey to be healed enough to help, should've, should...

He punched Leo's chest, starling Raphael and Casey. They looked flabbergasted as he started doing compressions.

"I'm not letting you go, Nardo. Do you hear me? I'M NOT LETTING YOU GO!" He screamed. Death was not going to take him. He wouldn't let it happen.

So he kept on going, pressing. Forcing Leo's body to intake more air. Up, down, up, down.

Up, down.

But nothing changed in the five minutes it took for him to stop and realize he had been crying. Shit, he was crying in front of Casey. Fuck that, his brother was dying. No. No, no, he wasn't. Donnie could fix it, he could fix anything! There had to be another solution, something to keep him here, something Donnie could do. It didn't matter what, be it joke, scream, reveal his worst secrets, summon a demon with some dark ritual-

-wait. The memory ritual.

"That's it!" He yelled, and barked instructions around. Casey got started with Raph's assistance no questions asked. It was going to work. It had to.

Because he had no idea what to do if it didn't.

With the glowing lights and a final nod of confirmation, they started the ritual.

° ° °

Casey tightened his grip on Leonardo's unresponsive hand. He needed him back. He was 16, he still needed his best friend, his mentor, his sensei.

He felt tears prickle in his eyes. This was all so unfair. Everything was. Why did he have to be strong? Why did he have to see the apocalypse happen? Twice? Why did he have to watch his family die? He was watching him die for the second- the third time!

He had felt so alone here, with strangers wearing the faces of his family. Strangers he loved so dearly but couldn't show or tell. Only, now they could be together again. It was just Leo, now.

"You can't do this to me, sensei. You can't." He breathed. Because he promised to be there to see Casey grow up. He promised to train him until he didn't need him anymore.

But he still did. Now, more than ever. Still needed him as his best friend, as his mentor, teacher, his sensei.

His dad.

"I miss you, dad."

° ° °

It was cold. And surprisingly humid for a mind belonging to someone so heavily associated with fire. His feet touched the watery ground and he looked around.

There wasn't... anything here. Nothing useful, no sign of Leonardo's soul.

He started wandering, ocasionally calling for his brother.

"Leo? Nardo, are you here?" He walked around but saw nothing.

That is, until he looked down. Instead of a reflection, there he was. His twin. Mirrorring his actions and expressions like when they were tots.

"Leo! Leo, can you hear me?" He kneeled and touched the water. It was cool and shallow, but there was a force keeping him from getting in... or getting Leo out. He took notice of Leo mirrorring his expressions and punched the invisible wall. Nothing.

It was as if Leo didn't want to come with him.

"You aren't making things easy, Nardo."

The reflection- Leo just kept mimicking him. Donnie hissed. They had come too far for them to accept being only 3 now. He punched the water wall. They should never be less than 4. He needed. Punch. To get. Punch. His twin.

"Come on, come on, come on, come on!" Punch.

OUT!

The wall broke and without sparing a single second Donatello's hand searched and grabbed the collar of Leonardo's cape.

"Come here, you dumbass!" He pulled and finally - finally! - Leonardo in all his glowing and translucid and barely solid form came out of the water.

His eyes were angry and his face seemed hostile. If it was a mirror for Donnie's own features he didn't know, and it did NOT matter.

"You are coming with me and this is not up for discussion!"

He just snatched him completely from the water, glaring at its lifeless blue glow, barely registering the look of bewilderment and recognition that came across Leo's face.

"FUCK YOU, Death! I'm taking him!"

With his twin - his prize, his other half, his hope - in his arms, Donnie took impulse to leave that place. They were safe, it was going to be okay.

Leo's soul once again rebelled, reaching his armless nub towards the water. Home, his twin senses told him. Leo thought this was home.

"No, you idiot. I am taking you home."

Their eyes met. From the lifeless blue, the soul gripped his arm back and he tightened his hold. He knew that look. Hope. A ninja's greatest weapon, as cheesy as it sounds.

"Trust me, Nardo."

And with no need of words, he heard an answer.

"I do, Tello."

"I'll see you on the other side."

° ° °

Again, I hope you like it. I'm happy with the end result.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 11 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - Just an FYI - the fics being posted now were finished months ago. I haven't written anything for the fandom in quite a long time and at present have no drive to do so. Once Midnight and Rusty are finished posting that will be it from me for the forseeable. Thank you for coming along for the ride.

Chapter Summary - Spencer pushes through another barrier on his way to recovery. But when a face from his past shows up out of the blue it threatens to destroy everything between the two of you.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - male masturbation, Spencer’s incredibly dirty thoughts, brief mention of three ways, handjobs, oral sex (f receiving) and penetrative sex (both p in v and p in a) all by way of Spencer’s imagination (Spencer is basically writing his own smut fic in his head), self inflicted wounds, talk of weight loss, swearing, arguing, yelling, tears, sad Luke, bit of a cliff hanger ending. WC - 7.6k

Chapter 11 - All My Ex's Live in Texas

The sentiment, to be able to love someone we must first learn how to love ourselves, felt oddly poignant in this moment, as Spencer stood in his bedroom, in front of the full-length mirror tucked away in his closet. 

It wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, he often gave himself a cursory glance before he left the lodge of a morning, giving himself a brief once over. 

It also wasn’t something he made a habit of doing. He kept the mirror inside the closet for the purposes of not having to look at himself for long periods of time. 

But this was for entirely therapeutic purposes. 

And the idea of having to love oneself before allowing others into our heart rang true in an entirely different way. 

Spencer needed to be able to engage himself physically before he could expect anyone else to do the same. 

It had been four days since his trip to Doctor Ortega’s office. In those four days the two of you had participated in a string of increasingly heavier make out sessions, three of which fervent enough to yet again cause Spencer to come in his pants, but as yet had not graduated onto anything more intimate. 

Yesterday the two of you had ridden your respective mares into Pipe Creek for Spencer to collect his new prescription and Doctor Ortega had caught him on his way out. 

She’d taken him aside and reminded him that in order to take back control of his own body, he had to truly own it himself before he frivolously tried to hand it over to someone new. 

And that’s what led him here. Standing in front of his full-length mirror, naked as the day he was born. 

The only part of his body that was concealed was his casted arm, he’d even gone as far as to remove the dressings from his bicep, thigh and stomach. 

The wounds were all at various stages of healing, scabbing over and starting to scar. They would all leave their marks upon his skin for the rest of his life, a constant reminder that he’d been to hell but was desperately trying to claw his way back. 

He focused on them for longer than necessary, trying to distract his mind from the task at hand for as long as he possibly could. You’d gone to the grocery store with Rusty and wouldn’t be back for a while. He had time for his introspective. 

He inspected each cut with a keen eye, taking note of how each brandished him, pictured what they’d look like once solid and pink against his alabaster flesh. 

This was not an activity Spencer relished. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at his naked form in such a manner. It felt clinical. Yet another experiment. 

Spencer liked experiments so he tried to keep that in mind as he took himself in as a whole before slowly ingesting each individual facet that made the full Spencer Reid picture. 

Start at the top, work his way down. Cold, removed, distant. 

Still got a good head of hair, not like William. Good hair. Thick hair. No greys. Almost forty and no greys. That’s pretty good going considering the stress I’ve been under. 

Nice eyes. Friendly eyes, that’s what JJ called them. Or was it kind eyes? Nice no less. Brown with gold flecks mom always used to point out. 

Bags under the eyes aren’t so nice. When did they get so purple? I look like I’ve never slept a day in my life. 

Nose. Lips. Chapped lips, such dry lips. How does Y/N kiss me? Need to buy chapstick. Must remember to buy chapstick. 

Need to shave. Or do I? I don’t hate the stubble, it makes me look tougher. Wonder what Y/N’s opinion on it is? Maybe I should ask her. 

His eyes trailed slightly lower to his torso. 

Still so skinny. Didn’t I put on weight? Where did that go? Mom always says I look like I’m not eating. Have I been eating? When did I get this skinny?

Lost weight in prison. Couldn't eat after…my mouth was always too sore. Thought I’d put it back on. Did I lose it again? How? When? 

He raised his hand in absent-mindedness and ran his fingers along the visible bones of his sternum, protruding through his milky skin. He pulled a face and dropped his hand again, somewhat unamused. 

His eyes briefly flitted back over the cut on his left side, garnering his attention once again before flicking to his stomach. 

Definitely lost weight, but how? Hip bones are more prominent. Got one of those little v-cut muscles I was always jealous of on Luke. Did I get that from riding? It does require core strength. I’ve never noticed it before. 

He continued quickly past the appendage where his attention was supposed to be, down to his legs. He’d always had strong thighs, thick thighs but they were somehow even meatier than he remembered. 

Is that from riding too? Must be. Good legs, definitely not terrible legs. Sturdy. Load bearing. 

I’m stalling. 

He closed his eyes with a loud huff, feeling incredibly self conscious all of a sudden. Opening his eyes again he forced his gaze between his legs where his flaccid member hung in a bed of pubic hair. 

And here we are, the thorn in my side. The bane of my goddamn existence. My…

…it’s not gonna get hard if you berate it. 

He grit his teeth and stared almost aggressively at the length of flesh and muscle between his legs. 

Masturbation should not be this difficult. 

It felt forced. He wasn’t aroused, not even a little. On the occasions in his life he had turned to self pleasure, it was only because he was incredibly horny, which wasn’t a regular occurrence for him unless he was in the act itself. 

He’d never just sat and thought I’m bored, maybe I could jerk one off. What was normal protocol here? 

His new phone had the internet and he would probably be able to look up a porn site. But what porn? Spencer didn’t even know what kind of porn he liked. 

He found both men and women attractive, where would he even begin? In an ideal world, what kind of sexual desire would…oh…oh! 

He stared at his cock as it twitched very slightly, heart beat picking up at the simple thought. He kept his eyes trained downwards while he contemplated it again. 

I like both men and women, I find them equally attractive. Specifically one man and one woman so what if I could have both? 

Again he twitched, before his very eyes his cock started to swell. His mouth fell open, chest heaving with his breaths. 

Y/N and Luke? Together? And me. All three of us. Together. Touching. Kissing. Or I could just watch, I’d be pretty happy to watch. 

Again he was amazed by the sudden jerk of his shaft, swelling slowly but surely. 

Oh this could work. I think this might work. 

He wrapped his hand around his shaft without too much thought in case he might talk his way out of this. He was only semi-erect but the speed in which it had happened meant he could be fully aroused in no time. 

He kept his eyes open, trying to force himself to watch as he started his slow strokes but his mind was wandering quickly down a sinful rabbit hole. 

Standing over them while she straddles him, her bare thighs pressed against his bare thighs, taking hold of his hard cock in her hand. 

Hearing Luke moan as his Adam’s apple bobs at her touch. Her beautiful, petite hand, unable to wrap all the way around his shaft. But she tries, she tries so hard. She wants to make him feel good, wants to give me a show.

Luke’s looking up at me, his eyes blown out with lust. 

“Come closer, cariño, let me touch you.” 

Oh how I happily oblige. 

Whilst she’s stroking Luke I kneel on the bed next to them and Luke is immediately taking me in his own large hand. I moan and my head falls back against my shoulders at his touch. 

He strokes me in time with her strokes on him. The sound of flesh on flesh echoing in the room. Moans and heavy breaths. 

There’s another hand on my jaw, I look at her and she draws me in for a deep kiss. Her tongue explores my mouth while Luke’s hand pumps my cock. 

My other hand finds her breast and I knead it beneath my fingers, pinching her hardened nipple in my hand. 

Yep, that’ll do it. 

He was fully erect in his hand now, stroking himself at an almost furious pace. His hand twisted and tightened, staring at his cock in his own hand in the mirror. 

Laying on my back and she’s on top of me, lowering herself down, slowly, slowly. Inch by inch I watch myself disappear inside her silken walls. I can feel the way her body stretches and pulls around my hard cock. 

Luke is behind her, palming her tits, kissing her neck. She’s whining, moaning because she’s so tight and I’m so big. 

“How does he feel, baby?” Luke whispers against her flesh once I’m completely sheathed inside of her.

“Fuck, he feels so good.” She starts to rock back and forth on top of me, eyes staring intently down at me. 

One of Luke’s hands travels downwards, to the juncture where our bodies meet. His index finger pressing against her clit. 

She vibrates around me, sending shockwaves down my cock. The moan that leaves my lips is nothing short of feral. 

Frantically fisting his own cock whilst imagining the pleasures of being with the both of you and his head was already leaking against hand. He swiped his thumb through it, legs buckling a little at the sensation and using his precum as lube. 

He was gnawing on his lip, watching the way his cock throbbed in his hand. It was a heady sight to behold. He thought he’d be disgusted by it. Was it wrong that it turned him on more? 

He looked good like this, strong, virile, dare he even say, sexy? He felt powerful as he watched his face contort in the pleasure he was bestowing upon himself. His staunch thighs shook beneath him. 

His thick and heavy length pulsed against his palm. 

She’s on her back, legs spread for me. I leave a trail of kisses across her soft skin but I’m in a hurry, I need to get to my final destination. 

Once my face is buried between her folds, I lap up at her arousal before my tongue settles on her swollen bud. She writhes beneath me at the contact, trying to move away. But I stop her with an arm across her abdomen. 

She moans and screams as I take her in my mouth, suckling on her sensitive clit. Like a man possessed I work between her legs, like she’s my favourite meal. 

I can feel a heat behind me, and hands on my hips guiding me up onto my knees. I comply because I’m so wrapped up in the way she tastes on my tongue. 

Then there’s something pressing into me from behind, I’m being stretched but in the best possible way. 

As Luke fills me up I moan into her core, making her squirm. The sounds in the room are melting into the walls, the smell of sex is heavy in the air. 

Luke thrusts into me hard and fast and I take two fingers and plunge them inside of her waiting heat while keeping my mouth on her desperate clit. 

She’s rocking against my face, coating my lips and chin in her arousal as my fingers sink inside of her. 

Luke is grunting as he fucks me, filling me up in a way I haven’t been filled in so long. Between my legs I can feel my cock twitching, pulsing, close to the edge without being touched. 

“Oh fuck,” Spencer mumbled, legs trembling. “Oh Jesus fucking Christ.” 

More precum leaked from his tip, coating his hand as he thought of eating you out while Luke fucked him. His head was hazy, his breaths ragged.

“Fuck, Spence, I’m close. So close.” She screams as I plunge my fingers in and out of her and swipe my tongue over her clit. 

Luke’s thrusts are growing more violent, his balls slapping against my ass. 

“Make her come, Spence. You can do it, cariño.” Luke encouraged me and I pick up my speed.

Soon enough I feel her walls clenching around my fingers and she’s coming undone at my will. She’s convulsing beneath me and I know it’s all because of me. 

And as I feel her coming, moaning my name, my own orgasm starts to pinch at my stomach and I know it won’t be long before I’m…

…“fuck, fuck, fuck!” Spencer screamed as he gripped the base of his shaft and started splattering streaks of his come all over the mirror. 

He kept stroking himself through his orgasm, his legs undulating back and forth as he expelled himself on the reflective surface, covering his hand in his sticky seed. 

He watched every small movement of his body, his quivering thighs, his leisurely strokes on his spent cock, his chest dragging up and down with each shallow breath. 

His brain was foggy but his vision was exceedingly clear. He was fascinated by the way his body moved, how one small ripple in one muscle caused another to flex and so on and so forth. 

The contours of his body seemed so sharp in his post orgasm haze, every pull or push, every pulse, every dilation. 

He’d never looked upon himself with such startling clarity before as his shaft started to soften in his hand, it was all becoming clear.

This is my body. I can see it. I can feel it. My body belongs to me. My body doesn’t belong to anyone but me. 

I am whole. I am whole. 

I am Spencer Reid and I am whole. 

He was so lost in his newfound captivation of his own frame, he didn’t hear you enter the lodge or call his name. He also didn’t hear the bedroom door open or your footsteps on the wooden floor.

It wasn’t until your face appeared in the reflection behind him that he registered his company. 

“Uh, hi?” A smirk adorned itself on your features as you regarded him, soft cock in his hand and the distinctive come stains on the mirror. 

You couldn’t stop your gaze flitting up and down his body. You’d never seen him completely naked before, uninhibited, exposed. 

You tried to make a mental note of every dip and curve of his glorious body. He really was a sight to behold.

“Hi,” he replied, returning your smile. 

“Everything okay here?” 

He let go of his length, turned to face you. His pupils were blown out wide. 

“More than okay.” He nodded. 

And suddenly he advanced on you, smashing his lips against yours and not caring in the slightest that he was naked and sticky with his own come. 

He grabbed at you, pawed at you hungrily. His wandering hands got you out of your clothes in no time at all and soon the two of you were falling back to the bed. 

He was on top of you, kissing you with reckless abandon. He could already feel himself growing hard again between your bodies. 

His tongue desperately explored your mouth as though it were the first time, he manoeuvred you both so he was on his back and you were straddling him. 

He hissed as he got an unhindered sight of your breasts as you sat atop him. Needy hands wandered until they were palming them, pinching your nipples between his deft fingers until they stood to attention, not allowing himself to be impeded by his cast. 

You moaned and rocked back and forth on top of him, his hard cock gliding between your folds. Spencer whined and bucked against you. 

He removed his hands, letting his casted arm fall back to his side. His good hand circled around your wrist, gripping it tight and moving your hand so it hovered above his cock.

You stared at him, silently questioning him. Spencer simply nodded in response and let go of your wrist. 

You sucked in a breath, cautious as you lowered your hand closer to his throbbing member. When your hand wrapped around his base he moaned in fervour. 

His eyes rolled back into his skull, back arching off the bed. You slowly started to move your hand up and down around him but he was soon bucking into your hand, setting the pace for you.

His desperation was evident in the surges of his hips snapping back and forth fiercely. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as his eyes landed on you again. 

He smiled up at you, the ethereal being perched on his thighs whilst working to bring him the utmost pleasure. 

He was whole. He was finally beginning to feel whole. 

***

It was getting late by the time the BAU finally wrapped up in Texas. Luke had agreed with Rossi that he would take one day off to visit Spencer before he joined them back at Quantico. 

Given the hour, Luke intended on getting a hotel for the night in Bandera town. He drove those forty some miles north from San Antonio in his SUV, fingers tapping nervously against the steering wheel as he tuned into a country and western radio station. 

The back seat was full of gifts and cards which Garcia had sent to the police precinct for Luke to deliver to their old friend for his birthday which was just a few days away. 

Luke’s nerves flooded his body, causing his stomach to form into tight knots. The closer he got to Bandera, the more anxious he grew, palms sweating against the wheel. 

He was under no illusion that Spencer would be happy to see him, especially with him showing up unannounced. But in Luke’s defence he had tried to call Spencer several times over the last few days to inform him of his visit. It wasn’t his fault Spencer didn’t answer. 

It was nearing eleven pm by the time Luke arrived in Bandera and try as he might he couldn’t get himself to the hotel. 

He couldn’t wait another minute. He needed to see Spencer now. 

He took the turning off the main road with the directions Garcia had sent him. He drove a little ways up a dirt track until he came to a stop next to another car. 

Killing the engine he frowned himself. He didn’t think Spencer had a car. He supposed he could have purchased one any time. 

He slid out of the SUV, dropping to the dirt and closed the door behind him. There was a small single storey lodge a few hundred yards up on the left. 

There was a light on. 

Luke swallowed, smoothing out his shirt and running his fingers through his hair. His chest swelled with nerves and his legs shook a little as he started towards the lodge. 

***

Spencer’s second orgasm seemed to come quicker than the first, your small, dainty hand bringing him to completion in no time at all. Chest heaving with his breaths, he immediately pulled you down by the back of your neck so he could kiss you. 

He was whole. He was whole. They didn’t win. 

He kissed you fiercely, his come sticky between your bodies but neither of you minded. His hand stayed on the back of your neck, pinning you to him. 

“You’re amazing.” He mumbled against your lips. 

“No, you’re amazing.” You replied. 

You wanted to tell him you were proud of him but you didn’t want to make a big deal of it or have him think you were patronising him. Instead you continued kissing him, grinding your bodies together as you did so. 

Spencer felt like every single one of his nerve endings were on fire. He was overstimulated, he could feel every thread of the sheets beneath him, feel every negligible movement of your body as it moved against his own. 

It was eye opening. He’d forgotten how this was supposed to feel. Intimacy wasn’t meant to make him feel guilty, pleasure wasn’t designed to cause him pain. 

He’d neglected to remember how it should feel. Two bodies coming together, becoming one. Becoming whole. 

He felt as though he could well be floating, his body lighter than air. He needed more. He needed so much more. He needed everything and he needed it with you. 

He gripped the back of your neck firmly, tongue roughly exploring the deepest recesses of your mouth. The sound of heavy breathing filled the room alongside soft moans and the friction of skin on skin. 

And for the second time that night, Spencer didn’t hear the door to his cabin open or the heavy footsteps on his hardwood floor.

***

Worryingly, Luke found the door to Spencer’s lodge was ajar, not quite closed all the way. His hand immediately pressed against the butt of his gun in its holster, ready just in case. In his experience, nothing good came from doors being left open. Least of all way out here in the sticks. 

He hesitantly pushed it open and took a step inside. The space was small and mostly full of books which didn’t surprise him at all. There were a few paper grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Nothing looked out of place or disturbed. 

He let his hand fall back to his side, trying to calm his erratically beating heart. Spencer could be scatty sometimes, perhaps he’d just been in a hurry. There was nothing to panic about. 

He stepped closer towards the closed door past the kitchen, for which he assumed was the bedroom. It was only as he drew closer that he started to register the sounds of heavy breathing.

His first thought was that Spencer might be having a panic attack. He’d had them a lot after prison, Luke knew all too well what they looked like. Perhaps he’d started to have one when he arrived home with groceries, it would explain why the door wasn’t closed properly and why the bags were still on the counter. 

Another wave of unease washed over him and he quickly pushed open the door without a second thought. 

The two bodies on the bed came into view and Luke felt as though the whole world came crumbling down around him in a single second. The body on top with their back to him was definitely female. The body beneath, laying on the bed was obscured from view but Luke would recognise those soft moans anywhere. 

“Wow,” he croaked out the single word as tears flooded his vision. 

Spencer suddenly sat up in bed, glaring at Luke over your shoulder. His mouth fell open, eyes wide in shock at the ghost standing in his doorway.

“L-Luke?” He stuttered. 

“Luke?” You hissed without looking over your shoulder. “As in…?” 

“Hmm.” Spencer nodded. 

You were still in his lap, trying to hide your naked frame against Spencer’s. You needed to leave. You couldn’t be part of this. You swung yourself off of the bed and in one swift move sprinted to the bathroom before you could give this stranger an eyeful. 

You’d left Spencer exposed and he quickly pulled the sheet around his body despite the fact Luke had seen him naked hundreds of times before. He hadn’t seen this version of him though, the one with the cuts and scabs from self abuse. He stared at Luke and Luke and him. Seconds seemed like hours.

He noticed Luke’s gaze flicker down to his arm and his brows pinched together.

“What happened to your arm?” Luke asked in concern. 

Spencer didn’t know whether he meant the cast or the cut on his bicep but he didn’t ask. 

“Riding accident.” Spencer clenched his jaw. “What are you…why are you here?” 

“We were in town for a case. I tried to call, you didn’t answer. The door was open and I thought something might have happened to you.” The hurt in Luke’s voice was palpable and Spencer felt a little guilty that he’d had to walk into this. 

“Uh, lemme get dressed okay? I’ll meet you outside?” Spencer chewed on the tip of his tongue, half thinking his overstimulated brain was imagining the man in front of him. 

Had he given over so entirely to his fantasy that it had begun to feel real? Was this all part of his vivid speculation? Was he in fact still masturbating in front of his mirror? 

No, it was all too real. The sadness in Luke’s eyes, the way his shoulders slumped with the weight of seeing his ex in bed with someone else. The way you’d so hurriedly scampered off to the bathroom. 

This was real life, even if it did feel like a nightmare. 

Luke nodded stiffly and turned about on his heels. Spencer watched his retreating form pad out of the bedroom and close the door behind him. 

Spencer got to his feet and started gathering up his clothes from the floor. He tapped on the bathroom door as he was fighting with his boxers.

“Are you okay?” He called when he got no answer. 

“Your ex is here, what do you think!” You hissed in response. 

“I had no idea he was coming here, Y/N. I didn’t invite him.” He was stuffing his legs back in his jeans, trying to ignore the way the fabric scratched his open wounds. 

“What the hell is he doing here then?” 

“I don’t know! I have no idea.” He grabbed his t-shirt whilst still working on the button of his jeans. “I need to deal with this, hopefully I won’t be long.” 

“Okay.” You whispered, hearing his footsteps head away from the door. 

He pulled the t-shirt down over his torso as he swung open the bedroom door. Through the window in the front door he could see Luke pacing the length of his porch. 

Spencer exhaled, raking his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it from his previous activities. He swallowed around his dry tongue and stepped towards the door. 

A frigid burst of air hit him as he stepped outside, joining Luke on the porch. Luke stopped in his tracks and glanced at Spencer. Even in the darkness he could see the tears in Luke’s eyes. 

“So, you’ve moved on, huh?” Luke folded his arms across his chest. 

“It’s been two years, what did you expect?” Spencer shrugged. 

He hated that even after all this time Luke could still cause all the air to leave his lungs. He looked much the same as Spencer remembered in his mind's eye that last time he saw him. He had an extra few creases around his eyes, a few more greys peppering his hairline, but otherwise he remained unchanged.

“What did I expect? Well for starters I expected more from you than leaving without a damn word! I expected that you wouldn’t completely cut me out of your life! I expected…maybe I hoped that I wasn’t the only one still pining like an idiot.” He choked back a sob. “So she gets the healed Spencer Reid? She gets to have you now you’ve worked through your trauma? When I was the one that spent a year by your side after, trying to help you? How is that fair?” 

“You think I’m healed?” Spencer’s voice raised a little. “You think I’ve worked through my trauma?”

“It looks that way to me. I seem to remember the last time I tried to get you into that position you pinned my arm behind my back!” Luke spat. 

“You have no idea what this is like for me.” Spencer shook his head angrily. “She is the first person I have been able to get close to and even still I’m terrified I’m only one second away from breaking down at all times. It’s been four years and this is the closest I’ve come to moving past what happened to me but I am by no means suddenly shiny and new. I haven’t had sex with her, is that what you want to hear? At this point I’m not even sure I can! 

“You can’t just show up here after two years and think you know what I’m going through. I have to take medication every day just so I am not completely crippled by my trauma. I blackout when the stress gets too much, I dissociate because my mind can’t handle the pain. Don’t come here and assume you know what I’m going through. You have no idea.” 

In the bathroom you heard raised voices outside and worried about Spencer’s rising anger and what could happen if he let it get out of control. You snuck back out and found your clothes, quickly redressing and creeping into the living room. 

From the kitchen you could see them through the glass pane in the front door without them being able to see you were watching. You told yourself you weren’t eavesdropping, you just wanted to be ready in case Spencer needed grounding. 

You tucked yourself away in the corner, eyes on the side of Luke’s face. You felt that swell of familiarity again that you couldn’t place. Your fingers kneaded your achy jaw as you listened.

“You were supposed to come back! I gave you time, I gave you space. I thought if I did those things you would come back and we would be okay again.” Luke rubbed his eyes to try and stem his tears.

“That’s not my fault, Luke. I didn’t ever give you a reason to believe that would be the case. I’m sorry I left without telling you, I know I should have said goodbye. But I can’t change that. This is my life now, I have no intentions of coming back to DC. I’m sorry if you thought that I would, but I never gave any indication that I would.” Spencer rubbed his hand on his jeans, focusing on the rough texture. 

He needed to stay tethered, he couldn’t let the anger bubble and cause his mind to detach. 

“Did you love me?” Luke’s voice pitched. “Did you ever really love me like you said you did?” 

You knew that voice, you were sure of it. You just couldn’t place it. 

“How can you even ask me that?” Spencer softened. “Of course I did.” 

“But it was easier for you to run away than try and make things work with the man you supposedly loved?” Luke exhaled. 

“I had to leave. After everything that happened, after Merva, it was just too much. I needed to get away from DC, away from it all.” Spencer sniffed loudly. 

“You could have talked to me instead of running away, Spencer. It’s what I was there for. But you never talked to me.” 

“I couldn’t talk to you, Luke. I couldn’t talk to anyone. I just wanted to forget.” Spencer’s eyes filled with tears and he rubbed his palm roughly against his thigh, focused on the material of his jeans. 

“You know I know what happened right?” Luke shrugged. “I know what happened to you in prison. I read the medical reports.” 

Spencer froze. His rampant rubbing of his thigh stopped, he felt like his breathing stopped. He glared at Luke while he processed his words. 

He’d read the report. He’d known all along. 

Inside your brows pinched together. Prison? Spencer was in prison? Surely you must have the wrong end of the stick? Spencer did not seem like the type. There must be something you were missing. 

“You…how could you?” Spencer croaked. “How could you do that to me?” 

“You wouldn’t talk to me. I was worried about you.” 

“Worried? You were worried? So you invaded my privacy? Those reports were not your concern Luke! I figured Prentiss would have to see them but you…I can’t believe you would do that to me.” Spencer’s voice raised again and felt the anger in his stomach. 

Deep breaths, take deep, calming breaths. One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five. Feel something beneath your hand, ground yourself. This will be okay. One, two, three, four, five.

“Maybe if you’d talked to me I wouldn’t have felt the need to.” Luke didn’t know why he was trying to justify himself, he knew what he’d done was wrong. “How did you ever get cleared to come back to work? You were clearly struggling.” 

“Oh please, we wrote those questions. You think after fifteen years of profiling I didn’t know the right things to say to the bureau shrink so she would reinstate me?” Spencer clucked. 

“Did you ever tell her you were ra-”

“Don’t you dare you say it.” Spencer cut him off. “Don’t you dare.” 

Your head was spinning with the new information. Prison. Profiling. Bureau? What did this all mean? Your cell phone was on the counter next to the bags and you reached for it before hiding back in your corner. The arguing continued outside while you brought up a Google search. 

Spencer Reid + bureau

Within less than a second, hundreds of search results popped up on the little screen, articles upon articles. You quickly skim read some of the search results as your hand shook around the device. 

The youngest academy graduate recruited to the FBI’s illustrious Behavioral Analysis Unit, twenty two year old Doctor Spencer Reid…

With his three PhD’s, and IQ of 187, SSA Doctor Spencer Reid was hand picked by BAU founder Jason Gideon…

After a high speed chase in Mexico the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit are on the scene. It’s thought that a member of the team is involved…

BAU Member SSA Doctor Spencer Reid acquitted of charges against him…

Hostage situation involving two members of the BAU…no further information is known at this time…

Your head swam. Your stomach lurched. This couldn’t be true, yet it was here in black and white. 

You were sleeping with the enemy. The sweet, kind cowboy you’d rescued from the desert was a former FBI Agent. 

Three PhD’s? An IQ of 187? Doctor? 

What the fuck was going on? You knew there were things he hadn’t told you but did you know him at all? And what led to an FBI agent going to prison? And what happened to him in prison that Luke had ascertained from his medical records?

You felt dizzy. You pushed yourself back up against the wall so you wouldn’t collapse. Luke’s raised voice brought you back around.

“You could have told me! I would have understood, I could have helped!” 

“No one can help me! Why don’t you understand that?” Spencer yelled back. 

“She seemed to be doing a fine job.” Luke scoffed, nodding his head towards the door.

“Goddamnit, would you let that go?” 

“Let it go? How the hell can I let that go? Every time I close my eyes I will see her on top of you!” Luke threw his arms up into the air. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be stronger, okay? I’m sorry I pushed you away. But I am finally starting to move past what happened to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t do that for you but Y/N is…she makes me feel like I can heal. And I need that Luke, I need to heal.” Spencer sniffed again, feeling his tears dangerously close to falling.

Luke didn’t appear to be listening though, his brows pinched together as he rolled something over in his mind.

“Did you say Y/N?” He rubbed the side of his neck. 

Your back went rigid. Hearing him say your name dislodged something distant in the back of your mind.

“Have you seen this woman? Her name is Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N and we have reason to believe she’s been seen in this area.”

“Yeah, why?” Spencer’s voice broke through your memory. 

“I…I’m not sure.” Luke looked deep in thought. “Can I…? One sec.” 

Spencer watched in confusion as Luke turned and headed down the stairs towards his SUV. He wrapped his good arm around himself in protection and to stave off the cold night. 

“Have you seen this woman? Her name is Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N and we have reason to believe she’s been seen in this area.”

“I don’t know nothing, ‘bout nothing.” 

“Can you take a closer look at her photo ma’am? Your neighbour seems to think she’s been staying here.”

“Again, I don’t know nothing, ‘bout nothing.” 

“Would you mind if we took a look around?”

“You got a warrant?” 

“No…”

“Then get the hell off of my property.”

Magnolia Springs, Alabama. Mrs Royce, the kindly old woman for whom your mother had been best friends with all throughout childhood. She’d offered you a place to stay after you escaped custody. That was until her nosy neighbour recognised you from the wanted posters. 

You’d buried your mom’s money under a tree in the wooded area behind her house and watched from a distance as two FBI Agents had come to her home to question her. Even though she hadn’t seen your mother in more years than she could count, Mrs Royce was fiercely loyal, and hadn't said a word. 

You hadn’t had a great vantage point for which to see the agents, only caught small glimpses of them from where you hid in the back of the house. But they’d introduced themselves as -

- Agents Phil Brooks and Luke Alvez. 

Luke was hurrying back from his car with a manilla folder and Spencer stayed stock still while he awaited him. Luke opened the folder and pulled out a sheet of paper which he proffered to Spencer as soon as he was close enough. 

“What is this?” Spencer frowned at the paper.

“Is this the woman? I only saw her from the back. She coulda changed her hair? Is this her?” Luke jabbed a finger at the photograph in the corner of the page. “She escaped from a max security facility a few weeks ago. Phil called me.” 

To Spencer’s credit, no matter how many years it had been since he’d needed to to use his poker face, he was still an expert at it. His expression didn’t even so much as flinch as he looked at the photograph of you on Luke’s printout. 

He was right, you had changed your hair. But it was without a doubt you looking back at him from that mugshot. He glanced away, back at Luke and shook his head.

“No.” He lied. “I’ve never seen this woman before.” 

Luke’s eyes narrowed in scrutiny, watching for any little twitch, any tiny hint that Spencer was keeping something from him. But the truth was, even though they had dated and Luke thought he knew Spencer better than anyone, he never could read Spencer. 

“You wouldn’t lie to me would you, Spencer? Because this woman is dangerous, and if you’re lying to me, that’s harbouring a fugitive. I don’t need to tell you that comes with a prison sentence.” Luke observed again. 

Even at the mention of prison, Spencer’s features didn’t change. 

“I’m telling you Luke, I don’t know this woman.” He waved the paper in front of him. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

Your own brows pinched together. You peered out the window to see the paper in Spencer’s hand but it was too dark to see exactly what was on it. But you were certain he would know it was you in the photograph. So why was he lying? 

“Right, I’m just being paranoid I guess.” Luke huffed, snatching the paper back from Spencer.

“I think you should go Luke, it's late and you shouldn’t have come here.” Spencer returned his arm to its position wrapped around him. 

“I’m staying down the road for the night. Maybe we can meet tomorrow for coffee or something?” Luke tucked the file under his arm.

“No,” Spencer shook his head. “I don’t want this Luke. I moved out here for a reason, to get away from my life in DC. To get away from…from…”

“From me?” Luke croaked. 

“From everyone.” Spencer corrected him. “You will always have a place in my heart, Luke. I did love you but I’m not the same man I was when we started dating and I’m never going to be him again. You have to let me go, Luke, please? Please just let me go.” 

Luke wanted to argue, he wanted to argue with every fibre of his being. He didn’t drive all the way out here to have it end like this. 

But Spencer’s sad eyes and downturned lips forced him to bite his tongue. Spencer had been through an immeasurable amount of trauma and he was just trying to make it through to the otherside. Luke couldn't help him, he tried, but he’d failed. Perhaps the best thing for Spencer’s wellbeing was for Luke to walk away, to let him go once for and for all. 

Luke huffed a breath out through his nose and took a few steps backwards. He navigated the steps whilst never taking his eyes off of Spencer. 

“I wish it could have been different.” Luke’s first tear fell and he didn’t try to hide it. “You were the love of my life.” 

“I know.” Spencer scrunched his face up as he felt his own tears ready to escape. 

“But I wasn’t yours.” Luke spoke for him with a weak shrug of his shoulders. “I want you to be happy, Spencer, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just promise me you’ll check in? I’m not asking for daily phone calls or anything like that but please stop ignoring me when I reach out. I’d really like to still be a part of your life even if only in a small capacity.” 

“That, uh, sounds reasonable.” Spencer nodded. 

“And call Penelope more. She worries about you more than anyone.” Luke shrugged, still walking backwards toward the SUV. 

“I will.” He nodded, swallowed thickly. But he was sure if you were who he now knew you to be, he’d never be able to talk to any of his old team ever again.

He felt overcome with discomfort. The goodbye he’d avoided two years ago now here at his feet. Spencer didn’t like goodbyes, it was why he’d left without them the first time. 

Goodbyes were endings. Full stops. The closing of a book. Spencer had wanted to keep the story open, unfinished, just in case he ever had the impetus to write that final chapter. But it had been penned for him. Luke had snatched the metaphorical pen from his hand by coming here and effectively completed their story. 

“Uh, goodbye then I guess.” Luke shrugged as he reached the car. 

“G-goodbye, Luke.” Spencer whispered. 

The book slammed shut. Or perhaps it was the car door. Either way, Spencer Reid and Luke Alvez’s story had come to its bitter end. 

He stood on the porch and watched as Luke started the engine before putting the vehicle in reverse. He continued to observe as the headlights cast an eerie glow on his land as the SUV turned around. He still just stood there as Luke’s car took to the dirt track back to the main road and soon vanished from sight. 

He huffed out a breath, rubbed his eyes to disperse the tears before turning to the door and practically throwing it open. He marched inside and found you in the corner of the kitchen, back pressed up against the wall. You’d been listening, of course you had. 

Spencer stayed on his side of the kitchen counter, worried what he might do if he came too close to you. He needed the barrier between you. He slammed his good hand on the counter top but you didn’t even flinch. His eyes were manic as they looked at you, large and wild. His chest was heaving erratically.

He opened his mouth several times to speak but the words kept getting stuck in his dry throat. Minutes of painful silence stretched between you while you kept your eyes on each other. 

Eventually Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, his jaw set in a tight line when he finally spoke. 

“Who the fuck are you?” He spat the words like venom on his tongue. 

You straightened yourself, squared your shoulders as if it might somehow intimidate him. When you spoke it was with equal malevolence. 

“I was going to ask you the same thing, SSA Doctor Spencer Reid.”  

More silence followed, reaching out into the sparse caverns that gorged their way between you. The wicked talons of the unspoken words weaved around you, wrapping you both in their icy clutches. 

You were both acutely aware that whatever conversation was about to transpire between you would inevitably make or break this fledgling relationship. You were no longer who you had been just hours before. A lonely cowboy and a weary traveller no more. All that remained was an FBI Agent and a Fugitive. 

It seemed inescapable that this could only end in one of two ways -

Either he called the cops on you and you were thrown back in prison, having the key thrown away and left to rot for the rest of your life behind bars. Or one of you would wind up dead. 

And you were not going back to prison. 

@kalulakunundrum @small-and-violent @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @mavellover1819 @babyspiderling

[abibliophobiaa]

I'm bad at giving prompts because I never know what authors would be inspired by, so I'm going to give you vague ideas and you can pick whatever parts suit your fancy. I know you'll write something cool no matter what :)

Soulmates, but only one party knows they're soulmates

Eddie insecure of his scars

Walking in the woods

"Don't you know I care about you?"

Some innocent cuddling or handholding

did you look for me?

i ended up going with eddie being insecure about his scars and the anniversary of one year post S4. eddie munson x f!reader. warnings: drinking to the point of intoxication; eddie becomes physically ill - throw up mention; wound description, scar mention; smut, but the vague, sort of poetic kind. formatting is also kind of weird because i did not use google docs and��it shows. (3.5k words)

He’d told you he’d be going out with Steve. Wanted to get out and spend time with him on the day Vecna almost took everything from you. He’d left with a kiss brushed against your forehead in the night, his hands lingering over the dip of your hip, cooing softly to ease the tiredness from your form as you shifted and raised yourself up onto your elbows in bed, palms brushing against your eyes to bring some life back into them. 

“Just going out for a little while,” he promised, thumbing at the curve of your jaw. Wiggled your chin until you smiled. “You worked all day. Please get some sleep, okay?”

“I love you,” you’d mumbled, face pushing back into the endless comforters lining your shared bed. 

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon, okay?” 

And you should have known. Should have been more awake to argue with him to stay home. To stay here. Should have anticipated what an absolutely terrible idea that had been. Not when you’d known what he’d experienced. Not when you still remembered that day so vividly. The call from one of the kids—them crying that something had happened, just as the world beneath you had rocked endlessly.

An earthquake, you’d been told. 

Eddie had been hurt. Badly. The kind of hurt that had you fumbling with your keys in the ignition of your car. Cursing and slamming your fist against the steering wheel when you’d lost grip of them and they clattered onto the floor to taunt you. The kind of hurt where you’d gotten a flash of him as he’d been thrown onto a gurney shortly after you’d arrived, someone already there balancing on the edge of the table doing chest compressions until they could get him into a room, because his heart had stopped. 

A whole minute. For a minute, you’d lost him. All of you had.

For a minute, Eddie had left the world, lingering somewhere away from his body. Away from you. Nearly gone. And then…not. He’d come back and had been immediately hooked up to endless machines and taken in for surgery. Surgeries that had seemingly lasted for hours, your feet carrying you back and forth in an endless back and forth line you hardly cared about potentially leaving a burn mark in the carpet. 

After that it had been days of touch and go. Months of healing, tending to his scars, watching him adjust to the way he looked in the aftermath of it all. He pretended to be okay. You knew that. Watched him hide behind smiles, behind a joke, behind doing the things he’d done before. Watched him strum away on his guitar at band practices, stand in front of rooms of people suddenly intrigued by the boy who had been cleared of rumored murder charges, the boy who had defeated death and came back.

A “Freak”—yet this time, one of their own making.

He carried on with the kids as usual, too. Started up Dungeons and Dragons meetings, began growing the group. Invited the girls, invited Robin, Steve and yourself. You always clung to the outskirts, watching him do what he did, watching him try and make sense of the world after the unimaginable. Putting his best foot and face forward, if only to protect those around him from the monsters who roamed his dreams at night, with endless teeth and flapping wings.

So no—no, it comes as no surprise when later at three in the morning you receive a phone call from Robin. The motherly figure of the small trio that had gathered that evening. She’s short and concise in speech, oddly enough for her, in her explanation of what’s gone on. Eddie drank…and quite a bit, from the way she describes it.

Exactly like a year ago, you fumble with your keys in your car, slam your palm against the steering wheel when they drop near your feet, and eventually peel out of the parking lot of your apartment complex.

He’s out on a lounge chair in Steve’s backyard when you find him. When Steve opens the door and apologizes. Says he didn’t realize Eddie must have drank before even arriving, and then offered him more on top of it. Your hand curls around Steve’s shoulder, grimace settling into place as you walk out onto the patio, eyes searching for the familiar form of the man who stole your heart two years ago now. The man who is lost now in his mind, swirling around a drain, staring up at a starry sky.

“Hey, handsome.”

Your chest flutters as he turns his head over the side of the chair, his flushed cheeks tugging upward with the silliest smile that spans his features, body gravitating to yours as it always does, flailing limbs and all. His dimples practically strain from it, though he nearly falls off the chair upon doing so, hand slapping against the ground to keep himself steady.

“Careful there,” you sigh, stepping closer into his proximity, gesturing to the small space on the chair near his hip. At his nod, you settle down, grimacing as he loops his arms around your waist and presses his forehead into your neck. Eddie on a normal day is a big fan of cuddling. Drunk Eddie’s favorite pastime is cuddling. “How about we get out of here? I’ll drive you home and we can get ready for bed?”

“I was just trying to forget.”

It’s like a hammer coming down to pulverize your heart. The quiet tremor of his voice, the sharp inhale of breath, the moisture on your collar bone. But you grant him that safety of your comfort, instead. Curl your hand around his ringed fingers and help him to his feet, quiet and careful as you lead him through Steve’s home, mindful of the sharp corners he bumps and sways into.

Steve’s there at the passenger door to help ease Eddie down inside, a sad frown set in place as he claps his friend on the shoulder and wishes you both a good night. Robin reminds you to call if you need anything else, and blows Eddie a kiss, both waving as you pull away from the Harrington home and head back to the place you share with Eddie, certain you have a long night still ahead.

—

The night is long, as you expect it to be. Getting Eddie into bed is one thing. His hands rest on your shoulders as you help him out of his jeans, his gangly thighs tangling in the material, nearly sending him careening backward into your shared mattress. He strips out of his shirt next, insistent that it’s too hot in the room. And for a spring day, with the windows already gently parted, you’ve needed to put on a hoodie to block out the chill in the air. But you watch him undress all the same, his back falling against the plush pillows beneath, a loud exhale spilling from his lips.

“I’m going to go get you some water and some pain relievers, okay?” Moving to make your way toward the bedroom door, Eddie’s fingers snatch yours before you can go any further. Chocolate brown eyes lift to meet your face, beckoning you back onto the mattress beside him, grunting as he throws himself on top of your chest, arms tangling in the fabric of your hoodie. “Eddie, you really need to drink some water. I’m serious.”

“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” he mumbles.

“Eddie, I’m not—”

“I can see it in your eyes. I know you.”

“I was worried, that’s all. I promise.”

“I’m sorry.” And there it is again. That lightning bolt to your chest. That feeling of anguish that rattles you deep within your bones. “I haven’t slept in days. I needed…”

Days. He’s gone days and you’ve been too busy with work to see it. Guilt drops like an anchor in the pit of your stomach, grief joining it there. Pity—for the man pressing close to your body, shame swallowing him whole, suffocating him. Fingers reach out to untangle the strands of dark curls on the back of his head, running through each coil, patting them into place. He sighs and sinks further into the mattress, and eventually stills, the sound of your heartbeat lulling him into sleep.

Hours later, you wake to the sound of retching in the adjoining bathroom. Eddie’s groans of displeasure echo off the tiled walls. Careful to not startle him, your feet drop down to hit the carpet beside your bed and carry you across the short distance between the bedroom and softly parted bathroom door where yellow light spills out into the hallway.

“Eddie?”

You catch him swishing mouthwash around puffy cheeks. He spits into the sink and glances your way. Eyes red-rimmed and tired. The sort of tired not even the best night of sleep could take away. No words are spoken as you step into the bathroom further, as you run your fingers along the side of his chest. Against the curve of his cheek, where new stubble has grown in since he’s last shaved.

“You been up long?” you ask, even though the fear of the answer has you weary. He nods, but at least he seems more aware of his surroundings now. More himself, despite his haggard form. “You should hop in the shower. It’ll make you feel better. While you do that I’ll make you the waffles you like. Strawberries and all.”

It’s a silent parting. You slip away from his side with a squeeze of his hip and a brush of your lips against the corner of his lips, making your way down the short hall to your shared living room and connecting kitchen. It’s small, but it’s yours. Has been for months now. After a serious conversation with Wayne, about how Eddie was struggling even if he hid it well, you’d all come to the agreed upon conclusion that he needed space away from the rest of the chaos of Hawkins. Away from those who still sneer at him in supermarkets, or shout out false accusations in parking lots.

Murderer. Freak. Killer. Psycho. Names thrown around, barbed wire and daggers, aimed at the man who had done nothing wrong.

It doesn’t matter Hopper had his name cleared shortly after the events that occurred that horrible week. Those who hated Eddie Munson hated him long ago. Chrissy and the other’s deaths were just further ammunition to leverage their ill intent.

Your apartment at least grants him the peace of safety and solace of quiet. On the edge of town, away from prying eyes, and close enough to both your jobs. The other renters in the complex leave you both be, despite a few noise complaints you’ve made about the rowdier tenants just above your bedroom, and it works for the time being. Until you can save up for something new; something you can grow in, grow old in.

Humming to yourself, you begin unloading the things you’ll need from the fridge. Pausing only to pet your presently purring orange kitten, dubbed Frodo by your boyfriend, when you notice that the apartment is still quiet.

There’s no water running.

The bathroom door is still open. Just as you left it. Slowly, so slowly, you walk over to the door, breath catching at the sight of Eddie standing in front of the mirror, fingers tracing over scars. Over the patch of skin over his heart, where it’s the worst, over grooves and ridges of what once was smooth flesh. Trails his fingers lower, to the marks along his abdomen, on his arms. The movements still along his cheek, over the divots you’ve kissed numerous times now. Remember the day you saw him when his eyes first opened in the hospital, and he’d asked you how bad it was.

“Still handsome as ever,” you’d promised, and you’d meant it.

Still mean it now as you knock on the doorframe, jolting him from his slow perusal of his frame. “Are you okay? Didn’t hear the water running.”

“‘M fine,” he says, kicking off his sweatpants for emphasis.

Turns then toward the knob in the shower and sets the water to run hot, fingers lingering under the stream to test the temperature. You open your mouth to speak but he slips out of the bathroom and into your bedroom for a moment. Out the corner of your eye, you watch him retrieve the tablets you left on the bedside table. He swallows them down with a swish of water from the glass laid out, and then returns to your side, where the water now steams up the bathroom mirror.

“Right…I’ll…uh,” you mumble, slipping out from around him into the hallway.

He slowly closes the door, leaving it only slightly open now, and you walk down the hallway. Frodo’s yellow eyes meet yours, and your resolve hardens, feet propelling you back from whence you came. Inhaling deeply, you shuffle inside, calling out into the open space that you’re coming in.

This part, you don’t think about. You strip off your leggings and hoodie with ease. Toss your underwear in a pile with his. He’s quiet as you enter. Those dark eyes of his roam your form, though their usual appreciative and amorous affection is replaced by a hollowness unfamiliar to Eddie’s usually spirited features.

“You’re far away from me right now,” you say softly.

Eddie lifts his head, tangles of wet curls falling loose around his shoulders, rivulets of water trailing down his cheeks like freshly fallen tears. “A lot on my mind, sweetheart. You know…sometimes I forget they’re there.” He gestures vaguely to his chest, waving a hand in front of himself. “And then I catch myself in a damn mirror, and it’s like I’m there all over again. In that fucking dimension, laying on the damn floor, waiting for it all to just…stop.”

“Eddie…”

“It’s hard to not believe you’re a monster like people think you are, when you look in the mirror and might as well be.”

Your hands cup his cheeks, forehead against his. Bodies slick with water, inches apart. More space than you like between you. “You are not a monster, Eddie Munson. You have never been. It’s not in your nature.”

Arms slowly twine around your form. A face against your shoulder, hair brushing your shoulders, his body flush with yours. That distance, that crevice, sews shut in an instant. Comfort comes in the form of his palm along your lower back, in the form of your lips against his shoulder, palms against the middle of his shoulders, holding him tight as the cries of a broken man fill your bathroom. As rain begins to splatter against the window, crystalline shards like diamonds rolling down the pane, the rumble of thunder drowning the blood racing in your ears.

He draws back with a deep exhale, the remnants of his tears visible in the red rims surrounding his eyes. In the shaky inhale, the hiccup that shudders in his chest. Fingers slide up across his chest, over his shoulders, the side of his neck, his cheek. He cradles your palm there, over the space you brush with your gentle thumb. Kisses the inside of your wrist, whispering how much he loves you.

An idea forms.

The hand resting on your face is lowered in the space between the two of you. Your hand flips his palm upward. The fingers on your opposite hand trail his callus scored palms. Tease at the yellowy skin there, at the marks that reveal countless hours of practices. Of time spent honing his craft, trying to make something of himself, trying to be the best at it.

“I love these hands,” you tell him idly. More to yourself, maybe. But he lifts his head all the same. Looks into your eyes as you meet his, the water warm against your back. “They make beautiful music. Music that I’m sure will change the world some day. They write songs. Beautiful songs that mean something. And they write stories. For those kids who absolutely love and look up to you.”

You trail your fingers up along the inside of his forearm. Over the tattoos there. Along his bicep, where you pause. “These arms are pretty great, too.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles at that, and you nod.

“They fix cars and…we know that’s helped me out of many tricky situations.”

Like last week, when you’d had an issue with your car starting and he’d been able to fix it before you were ever late for your shift.

“But they also give the best hugs,” you sigh, sliding up against his chest, relishing in the feeling of them caging you in close. Tight. “They feel like home. Safe. Like nothing could touch me, as long as I’m right here.”

He squeezes you tightly, and you know it’s his way of reassuring you that as long as he has breath in his lungs, you’ll always have somewhere to run to. The safe space in the cradle of his body, a place that he knows you fit perfectly into.

“Don’t even get me started on your cheeks,” you laugh, tipping your head back to press a loud kiss to both of them.

Eddie’s nose wrinkles. “My cheeks?”

“Don’t make fun. They’re adorable. Bite me,” you grumble, pinching at one of them for emphasis. “Really, the whole face is adorable.”

His forehead rests against yours, eyes dark in the dimly lit room, the room growing darker by the minute from the storm rolling in outside. They shift downward as you rest your palm over his abdomen, gliding upward slowly, along scarred flesh, over the parts of him he hates most, until you stop over his sternum.

Over the rapid thrum of his heart.

“I love this heart the most. Because despite everything, it’s kind and loving and warm. And for a minute that day it had stopped and I thought I’d lost everything.” He kisses your forehead as you heave a sob, as your breath chokes off at the memory of him lying on that hospital bed, eyes closed, swathed in bandages, uncertain if he’d ever wake up again even though the doctors reassured you he would. “But then you came back. You came back to us. To me.”

He sniffles, thumbing at your lower lash line as you continue, “And I know you hate this body some days. But I love it. I love it because it’s beautiful and it holds your soul, and…I-I—”

“I love you.” He cradles the back of your head and kisses you.

Once. Twice. Three times.

For each word. Each a promise. Each a swear.

Never to be parted again.

—

He lays against you in silence. His head on your chest, his thighs a tangle with yours, a hand around your hip to keep you close. Bare chests covered only by thin bedsheets. In white linen draped along thighs. You’re not sure what time it is, but time doesn’t exist here. Not right now. Not with him quietly slumbering at last after five days of running from the demons in his mind.

Safe, at last, in the circle of your arms.

Safe and sound, you tell him quietly, fingers combing through his hair.

Safe and sound with you. Here, in this apartment, in your home, where no one can touch you.

Vecna is gone. The kids are okay. Your friends are fine. The world is whole again. The monsters are gone.

He doesn’t have to run anymore.

There will be days like these. The hard ones. More to come in the years that will surely follow. But now, right now, there’s only peace.

And later—later he wakes and kisses you slowly. Softly.

Languid.

Perfect presses of plush lips against skin. He asks you a question. You nod, and he slides the blanket away from your form, baring you to him. Later there’s heat that builds and grows as he trails along the curve of your neck. Over the swell of your collar bone. The valley between your breasts. He divides his attention between your breasts, teasing nips and taunting brushes of tongue and teeth against sensitive skin. Quiet murmurs of praises from his softly parted lips, and peals of pleasure from yours. Fingers knot in hair as he trails lower, as the heat of his tongue glides through the honey of your center, as fingers pull you closer and closer to a precipice. Pulls you nearer as you plummet, planting a kiss against your forehead.

He’s quiet as he rolls over you. As your hand reaches down between the two of you and guides him to where you crave to feel him. Suddenly it’s the comfort of being so full of him that robs you of air. The familiar roll of his hips against yours, fingers bracing one of your thighs over his hips. The slow drag of him; in and out, in and out torturously so, stars bursting behind your vision with each breathless thrust.

Your fracture around him like dozens of stars visible through your bedroom window.

He holds you until sunrise. His chest rising and falling against yours, both of you content and sated.

Cheeks warm, skin warmer.

Tangled as two people could ever be.

And it’s a new day. One neither of you will take for granted.

——

xoxo love you all.

[sofywp]

Ellie x reader

The night was tense. Intense. Cold. The space inside the cabin seemed to shrink under the weight of the tension hanging in the air. The fight between them was just another one of the week, one of many that had accumulated over the months. On one side, Ellie leaned on the wooden table, her body rigid, breathing heavily as if trying to hold herself back. Her eyes were red with anger and frustration. On the other side, YN stood against the wall, arms crossed, her face expressionless but her chest full of emotions ready to burst.

The silence was cutting. Ellie was on the verge of exploding, the words dancing on the tip of her tongue, ready to escape without a filter, as they always did.

— You think I’m not trying? — Ellie suddenly yelled, her voice echoing through the cabin. — I’m doing my best, YN! I’m trying to deal with all of this, with the shit that happened. But it’s never enough for you!

YN closed her eyes for a moment, trying to control the wave of frustration threatening to overflow. She took a deep breath before opening her mouth, her voice coming out cold and firm.

— Trying? — YN repeated, incredulous. — Trying how, Ellie? You barely talk to me. You spend your days drowning in your own pain, pushing me away. I’ve been trying, but you don’t even see that. All you see is Joel, your guilt, your anger.

The mention of Joel made Ellie stiffen. His name was a wound that never healed, a scar she couldn’t stop picking at. The memories of his death still burned in her mind, haunting her. But instead of opening up, she shut herself off more and more, sinking deeper into her own demons.

— You don’t understand! — Ellie shot back, slamming her hands on the table, her body shaking with rage and pain. — You’ll never understand what I lost. What I carry.

YN uncrossed her arms, her eyes fixed on Ellie, but now with something colder. She stepped closer to the table, her patience exhausted.

— I won’t understand? — YN said, almost in a whisper, but with a sharp tone. — I was here for you, Ellie. Every damn time you woke up screaming in the middle of the night, I was here. When you had your panic attacks, I was the one holding your hands, breathing with you until the world stopped spinning. I was here when you couldn’t even get out of bed because of the weight of your guilt. But you, you were never here for me.

Ellie clenched her fists, YN’s words hitting a fragile spot she had been avoiding. She knew YN was right. For so long, Ellie had been selfish, consumed by her own pain, never thinking about how it was affecting the person beside her. It was as if she was drowning in a sea of grief, and YN was always there, trying to pull her to the surface, never receiving anything in return.

— It’s not fair... — Ellie began to say, but her voice cracked, weaker now, as if she was doubting her own words.

— Fair? — YN laughed, but without humor. — Fair is something you’ve never been. You don’t think about anyone but yourself, Ellie. Not once have you asked me how I’m doing, how I feel living in this hell alongside you. I’m exhausted.

YN’s gaze hardened, more resolute. She stepped up to the table, grabbed the glass of water that was there, and before Ellie could react, she threw the water at her, soaking her hair and dripping down her face. Ellie’s shock was immediate. She stood still, paralyzed, as if the impact of the gesture went deeper than just the physical.

— You gave up on us a long time ago, Ellie. — YN murmured, her heart racing. — Today... I don’t want you anymore.

Ellie quickly wiped her face with her hand but said nothing. What could she say? She knew she had been selfish, knew she had neglected YN while drowning in her grief and guilt over Joel’s death. She knew she had let their relationship slip through her fingers while she lost herself more and more.

YN took a step back, her eyes teary. She didn’t want things to end like this, but there was nothing left to do. What she had with Ellie was shattered, and she finally realized she couldn’t keep sinking with her.

— I tried, Ellie. I really tried... — YN whispered before turning toward the cabin door. She paused for a second, as if waiting for Ellie to say something, anything, to fight for them. But all she heard was silence.

She opened the door and walked out, leaving Ellie alone in the chaos they had created. Going to bed, now sleeping without her love by her side.

(Hey! This is my first time posting here on tumblr, and my first imagine of Ellie. I loved watching TLOU)