#was GOING to make it try to communicate a fight instead of 'dinner' but i think it works out just as well

[mipexch]

dinner (?) plans

[itoshiexx]

blossoming love

synopsis: sae is not good with words, so he communicates with flowers instead. / or, every time itoshi sae gave you a bouquet in significant moments.

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader | words: 2.9k | warnings: fluffy fluff, tiny bit of angst if u squint, rin and sae’s relationship isn’t fucked up, kinda proofread, ooc sae maybe? i love him tho, its really just three thousand words of him talking about love

notes: this idea has been on my mind for a while since i adore the language of flowers, and even tho sae is probably ooc, i really liked the final result ♥ also i'm trying a new layout so lmk if y'all like it~ and finally thank u so much for 2.5k followers, i love you all sm!!

masterlist

i. sunflowers for a confession

never has itoshi sae been so painfully aware of his flaws and limitations quite like the day he realized he liked you as more than a friend. because, even though he wasn’t the type of guy to wait for the universe to give him everything he wished for, anyone within three miles could see how absolutely awful he was at communicating.

so that was the dilemma: how could he express his feelings to you if the words just didn’t come out?

“flowers.”

“huh?”

rin was sitting at the couch in their parent’s home, a paused horror movie on the tv. sae didn’t even notice he started mumbling and spilling his secret crush to the younger itoshi, and the tips of his ears went red at that. he was supposed to be the smooth, suave, aloof kind of guy that gave his little brother some love advice, and not the other way around.

(not as if any of them had some kind of experience. emotional intelligence didn’t really run in the bloodline.)

“just give them flowers, nii-chan. did you know each of them has meanings? it could help you express yourself.”

“you mean like… the language of flowers or some shit?”

rin rolled his eyes, but nodded.

“just try not to use ‘some shit’. i don’t think they’re into that,” he joked, and sae could only grimace and send him the middle finger.

but as much as he didn’t want to admit, his brother was right. you were special, and you deserved the best he could give — even if it wasn’t much. he was going to learn how to be better for you, but meanwhile, the language of flowers should suffice. 

the first time you receive a bouquet from itoshi sae, they are beautiful blooms of sunflowers, expressing his adoration towards you. the small card that comes with it has a simple question:

go out with me?

ii. white gardenias and the start of something new

your first date with the pro-footballer is something simple yet sophisticated, a dinner at a famous restaurant he rented just for you two. the dim lights make everything more romantic, and your heart is beating so loud you’re afraid sae might hear it from the other side of the table. despite the euphoria that leaves you nearly breathless, you manage to talk during the night while he mostly just listens.

itoshi sae is not familiar with dates — not actual ones, at least —, so to say he was nervous was an understatement. however, he hid it well behind his nonchalant persona, even if meant avoid talking just so he didn’t fuck things up. 

sae was never a talker, anyway. and it was long ago he figured he’d rather listen to the sound of your voice and drown in the image of your sparkly eyes every time you were excited about something. 

when dinner is over and sae drives to drop you home, you’re a little shocked to see him take another flower arrangement from the floor of the backseat, just hidden enough so you didn’t notice during your ride. the petals are a pure white color with beautiful twirls, and you can’t help but gape.

“is that… is that for me?”

sae wants to scream, because of course they are for you — who else could they be for? as if he’d ever look at anyone when you’re the brightest light shining on his life.

inevitably, you’re all itoshi sae can see.

“they are gardenias,” he simply says, fighting the heat that climbs through his neck. he pushes the bouquet a little more towards you. “they made me think of you.”

your chest swells with affection, and the sweet aroma of the blooms mixed with sae’s perfume makes you a little dizzy. you only realize how close he is when his nose touches yours, hands grazing your left cheek as if you’re something fragile that he’s scared to break.

but he kisses you anyway. his mouth is delicate against yours, trying to convey his longing as a complement to the flowers on your hold.

when your lips part and you finally say goodbye, you’re certain that sae has blossomed an entire garden in your heart. starting with the white gardenias that mean new beginnings, affection and a revelation of a secret love. 

iii. blue hyacinths for an apology

sae knows how much of an asshole he can be. contrary to popular belief, he knows how sharp his words can feel and how mean his voice can sound. even if he wasn’t exactly self aware, his brother rin would sure be able to spit it to his face every time they argued. 

it wasn’t like he always meant it. sure, he didn’t care about his behavior towards the media or people he found particularly annoying (pretty much everyone), but there were people in his life that he cherished; people he didn’t want to hurt. the thing is, itoshi sae was just really, really awkward when it came to his own emotions, and he was the worst at saying how he felt. 

it’s a few months into your relationship that sae learns he would rather never play football again than make you cry. it’s a silly argument, really — he doesn’t even remember what he gets so worked up for. maybe it’s jet lag that makes him lash out on you, but it doesn’t really matter when he sees your eyes glisten and a little sniffle comes out of your lips.

“i’m s-sorry,” you say, uneasy in a way that makes his stomach churn. he wants to wipe that expression off your face, and beat himself up for being the one who put it there. 

him and his stupid ass mouth, as rin would say.

“what? why are you saying that?” his tone is more exasperated than he intends to, and god, why can’t he just shut the fuck up?

“i didn’t mean to annoy you or make things harder… i know you’re tired from your game and i… i’m sorry, sae.”

he should be the one apologizing for being an idiot, he knows; but the words are so foreign to his system that sae doesn’t even know how to put the letters together. it’s only when you pick up your stuff and leave his apartment without another word that the pro-player is shaken out of his stupor.

“fuck,” he curses under his breath. “fucking hell, sae.”

he hates that he hurt you, hates that he doesn’t know how to fix it and hates it even more that his little brother lectures him on the phone later that day, when he calls to vent.

“you already were a shitty brother, so don’t be a shitty boyfriend too,” are rin’s exact words. 

okay, ouch. kinda stings, but he figures he deserves it.

it’s almost 9pm when sae goes to your house, two bags of your favorite treats resting on his forearm while he holds the carefully chosen bouquet. the surprise on your face when you open the door makes his heart reel, though the glimmer of happiness is what makes it all worth it.

“i messed up”, is what he says as soon as he can before you decide to kick him out. “i didn’t mean to snap at you like that and… i’m sorry. i never want to hurt you.”

you take the blue hyacinths from his grasp and look at them fondly before smiling, and sae thinks the sun is shining again. he’s eternally grateful you understand the sincerity and the regret that comes from those tiny petals.

iv. red roses and the epiphanic awareness of love 

journalists from all around the world are well aware of how much itoshi sae hates interviews. it is always pretty clear with the bored — if not extremely annoyed — expression on his face and the rude answers that make anyone break a cold sweat. he doesn’t like stupid questions (all of them) and much less when the press tries to meddle in his personal business. 

it wasn’t new to be asked about his romantic relationships, and this particular topic was something that made sae scowl and diss whatever nosy, lukewarm journalist decided to pry to earn a penny. by now, everyone knows that inquiring if the midfielder is dating anyone is forbidden territory.

still, the media keeps trying to find small loopholes in what they really want to know, questions safe enough to not enrage the itoshi. it’s one of those that makes sae’s world come to a halt in the middle of a press conference in italy.

“itoshi, can you tell us about the things you love most in life?”

his brain instantly shuts down, and suddenly, sae is no longer in a room with hundreds of microphones and cameras shoved on his face, but instead in a cozy little picnic at the beach with you by his side.

if he was being honest, sae never really thought about things like love for most of his life; and not just the romantic one, but love as a whole. sure, he knew he loved his parents and his little brother, but they were parts of his life he didn’t choose, almost as if those feelings were meant to be there ever since he was born.

thinking about his life growing up, he could never really tell if what he felt was ‘love’ or just ‘like’. did he love soccer? did he love salted kombucha tea? did he love the beach? or were all these things temporary fulfillments that could end at any minute? this feeling was such a difficult concept for sae that he never bothered to actually search for answers. 

but you’ve been dating for seven months now — and sae simply knows, as a universal truth written down his bones, that the feelings he has for you are too otherworldly to fit inside the mere perception of ‘like’. liking you doesn’t do justice to the way his heart leaps and his chest is filled with happiness and peace and anxiousness and euphoria all at once whenever he thinks of you.

it’s the strangest epiphany of the century, he thinks, but that is the exact moment itoshi sae is sure you are the sole definition of love. 

he loves you. he loves you the most in life.

and even if life is hard, because the world always is, loving you amongst this chaos is the easiest thing sae has ever done.

so when he comes back from his trip and you stay over at his penthouse, he tries to demonstrate this overflowing feeling when he touches you and kisses you and makes you fall apart just to put you back together. and when the morning comes and you paddle to the kitchen for breakfast, he is there holding the prettiest bunch of classical red roses with the faintest blush on his face. 

you’re beautiful even with your unruly hair and bleary eyes, and sae is certain he will never get tired of seeing you smile for him. 

with his throat clogged with emotion, the words don’t come out. but you take the flowers in your gentle embrace and kiss him with such fondness and infatuation that he can’t help but wish you understand the deep, unconditional love he feels for you.

“i love you too, baby.”

and thankfully, you always do.

v. pink camellias for longing

longing wasn’t a feeling sae was particularly used to. 

when he left japan at the ripe age of 14, the first few months were especially harsh, since he was in a foreign country with a totally different language and culture. sae found himself missing the place he grew up, not so much for the place itself, but for the comfort its familiarity could bring. he missed rin, too. 

but as time passed and itoshi sae transformed, he stopped viewing japan and everything it had as his home, solely becoming a wandering soul in the big, cruel world. the athlete, then, longed for nothing but to be the best. 

however, he realized that life as he knew would never be the same after falling in love with you, for those feelings were strong as tidal waves, all-consuming and capable of changing everything in its course. 

everytime he was away, sae really fucking missed you.

“how long will you be gone for?”

even before he left. 

“…a month.” 

his voice is low and slightly hesitant. you’re together on the living room couch, watching a shitty rom-com movie that sae hates but always watches because it’s your favorite. his arms are around you while your back rests against his chest, and he feels a little dizzy — whether it’s from your sweet perfume or the fear inside of him, he doesn’t quite know.

though he will never admit it, the midfielder is always scared whenever he has to leave for longer periods of time. because what if you get tired of him? what if you start feeling so alone and neglected you end up hating him? the thought alone is enough to make him want to throw up. 

you turn around to face him, and the little pout of your lips suddenly has him feeling sick. 

“so long? you really have to?”

he sighs, because yeah, unfortunately, he does have to stay that long to follow the team along the season. even if he’d rather stay with you and just fly near game days.

“yeah. i’m sorry, mi amor.”

sae lets you turn around fully and adjust yourself on his lap, each leg sitting comfortably around his hips. both of his hands are immediately holding on your waist, as if afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t. 

“don’t apologize, handsome. i know it’s your job. i’m just gonna miss you a lot.”

he has the urge to kiss your sullen look away, and it’s exactly what he does. his lips touch yours with the same tenderness they always do, but there’s a certain urgency in the way his mouth moves and his tongue carefully glides with yours, as if he’s trying to convey just how much more he will miss you.

because although no one would ever believe him, he always misses you more.

“i wish i could stay here with you,” he says when you part, and the little bashful smile you give him makes his heart soar. 

“but you love what you do, though.”

yeah, but i love you more. the thought is something that has been plaguing his mind during the nearly two years you’ve been together, because sae never expected to have something — or rather someone — who would become his entire world quite like how you do. it’s frightening and dreadful and not what he wished for himself, but sae can’t say that he hates it. there’s nothing about you or the gentleness of your love that he can hate.

that’s why when the time of his trip comes, a beautiful bouquet of pink camellias is placed on your kitchen island, and you know it’s his way of showing his longing for you.

vi. amaranthus and the promise of forever

even if many people disagree, sae knows he is always right. it’s how he knew you were the one even before he had you, and more so even before he realized he wanted you. somehow, it’s always been a truth his mind couldn’t ignore.

it’s on a lazy sunday morning at your shared apartment that itoshi sae is taken by a sudden urge of asking you to marry him. 

there’s nothing extraordinary about the scenery; just you making him a snack after waking up from your — now shared — 3pm nap, hair tied in a bun, swaying your hips while stirring the food on the frying pan. he hugs you from behind and rests his head on your shoulder, nosing at the crook of your neck in an attempt to absorb all that you are. you giggle with the ticklish feeling, and the warmth that spreads through his chest somehow doesn’t feel weird anymore.

somehow, it’s now something he deeply cherishes. sae can only describe being with you as pure bliss.

and he’s always been selfish, a true egoist to its core. it’s why he’s faced with his deepest desire to have the honor of spending a lifetime by your side, if only you’ll have him.

he’s had the ring for a while now, hidden behind several socks in his drawer. it might as well be the time, he thinks; a lazy sunday afternoon that has nothing grandiose. sae was never one for big gestures anyway.

so when you both finish eating, sae tells you he’ll be out for a jog, and you just hum with your pretty smile. his heart is beating abnormally fast when he goes to the flower shop, and by the time he’s back home, he thinks it might just explode.

but this… you are it for him, he’s certain. the same way he was certain four years ago, when your love started to blossom until it became the prettiest garden.

and when sae is down on one knee asking the most important question of his life, ring box in one hand and the bouquet of amaranthus on the other, the teary smile and whispered “yes” you give makes him certain that, no matter what, your love will be eternal.

© 2024 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[thebisexualdogdad]

Smutober day 29: Sofia Falcone x Male!Reader - the affair

You were born to hate each other and yet somehow you and Sofia Falcone fell in love instead. 

Being a Maroni your fathers pitted you against one another your entire lives and during your teenage years you did despise each other but somewhere along the way into adulthood your feelings changed. 

It started the night you two had dinner to find a compromise for your fathers on some issue they were having, she looked beautiful and you were as charming as ever and you ended up screwing in the bathroom of the restaurant. 

You two vowed to never let it happen again until she was showing up at your apartment in the middle of the night desperate for you. 

This affair has being going on for years but after nearly being caught one too many times you decided it was best to have a secret apartment just outside of the city that was the only place you would meet up. 

“Oh fuck,” she moans as she rides you, her head thrown back as you grope her chest. 

Sofia texted you on the burner phones you used to communicate asking if you were free for a late night rendezvous so you ditched your crew and made your way across the city.

When you arrived you tried to make small talk if she wanted a glass of wine but she immediately dragged you to the bedroom instead. 

She grins down at you, putting her hand around your neck and lightly gripping as she bounced harder in your lap, her other hand planted on your chest to keep her steady. 

You gasp as she chokes you a little harder, smiling and thrusting your hips upwards to knock her off balance so you could flip her over.

“Nice try Falcone, I'm the one in charge here,” you smirk, now on top of her and thrusting steadily into her.

“Only because I let you,” she scoffs, digging her nails into your back. 

You and Sofia were both extremely competitive, constantly fighting for dominance in the bedroom. 

“Let me? I'm a Maroni I do whatever I want,” you chuckle, harshly nipping at her neck. 

“Oh please, do I need to remind you how you were begging for me to fuck you with the strap on last week?” Sofia taunts, groaning as your movements become a little more frantic as you were getting closer to the edge. 

“I can just stop right now if you want to be a smartass,” you huff, slowing your hips but Sofia grabs you by the throat making you look her in the eyes.

“Don't you dare fucking stop.”

You grin proudly, picking the pace back up as Sofia snakes her hand down her body to rub at her clit. 

Her eyes screw shut, wanting to cum before you like she was winning a game, moaning loudly when she cums around your cock.

She rides out her high and soon you're cumming too, quickly pulling out and shooting all over her stomach. 

Your eyes glaze over her body, glistening from sweat and covered in your cum. 

“Don’t look at me like you just marked your territory,” she says playfully. 

“But you're mine Falcone,” you smile, kissing along her chest and up to her lips.

“My father would have you killed if he heard you say that,” she teases into the kiss.

“Best he never finds out then,” you say kissing her harder. 

[simp-ly-writes]

Isn't it Obvious?

Ask: Astarion having a crush on an oblivious reader headcanons.

Pairing: Astarion Ancunin x Tav!Reader

Warnings: mentions of jealousy.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, exams are finally done AHHHH!! (now I just have to go to work lol). It's so relieving though- having so much more free time, especially to write- anyways! hope you all enjoy! :) (I am still figuring out how to write headcanons...)

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

↳ After the first, rather violent, meeting you both had at the start of your adventures. You chalked the parties vampire spawn's forwardness to him trying to be more friendly to you

↳ You were also quite the flirt of the group yourself- the sarcasm and playfulness of it was a driving factor to your sense of humor towards the camp

↳ Needless to say that if the opportunity arose to spark a comment- you were doing your best lighten the mood and your friends spirits when the world appears to be coming to an end as the team leader

↳ Astarion of course is jealous over the fact that no matter what, you flirted with everyone no matter how dire the situation, place or time. That was supposed to be his thing- or rather his thing with you...

↳ Whatever was this thing with you? Astarion always questions himself- why do you respond and make him blush so heavily against his pale skin, make him shuffle his ruffled collar, yet you never take that confidence of yours to take the next step- did you even want to take the next step- did you even know?

↳ These questions annoyed the vampires spawn so much so that he started to become quite the storm-cloud of the group. Scowl on his face and a bit more violent in battle than usual- almost as if to capture your attention

↳ Oh course he still flirted with you, claiming that the blush on your cheeks was merely a form of revenge to the strings played across his heart- or so he thought...

↳ You were overjoyed that Astarion was always willing to make a rebuttal against your words- it was nice to have someone lightening your day instead of always being the one to do it for everyone else. But that is just what you thought- he was just repaying the favour from the group, so you kept ignoring the growing feelings you had for the pale elf

↳ Eventually, Astarion has had enough of this toying over the line and becomes quite blunt with his flirtations- he uses pet-names in replace of your actual name almost everytime, sits beside you during communal dinners and fights back to back with you. He openly talks about all the night pleasures that could be offered- trying his best to find out what will make you finally understand

↳ Yet you just smile widely, make a joke comment in response before trying someone else from the group into conversation as the elf sighs out dramatically and storms away

↳ You were beginning to grow confused and increasingly worried about Astarions apparent annoyance towards you. The jokes that bonded the two of you throughout your travels were becoming lesser as were the parties willingness to hear your jokes towards them as well- you were despreate to find answers now

↳ Everyone in the camp was sick of your antics, they ended up refusing to respond to your flirtatious comments after receiving the ever-growing glares and side comments from the vampire spawn- they were tired of your cat-and-mouse game

↳ So one night Shadowheart and Wyll have pulled you into a tent and said that you were going on a date (much to your confusion) as they hurriedly prepared you and practically threw you back out

↳ You notice Astarion staring at you in what appeared to be shock as you ask who your date was and made a flirtatious (joking) comment that if that date was him

↳ The shocked face that you pull in return when he laughs loudly into the night sky only to look back and replay with a dramatic yes, yet you feel overwhelmingly relieved as does Astarion when you accept to go out together

↳ "I hope you know, my love..." Astarion trails off as you both are walking back from your date, smiles across both of your faces in the moonlight

↳ "I know- or well now I do" you finish his sentence as he laughs at your reply and you can't help but laugh at your past self as well

[transtravisstoll]

Batkids Age Reversal List

want to do a age reversal AU for the batkids but why do the comics keep fucking up their ages this has taken me weeks of trying to figure out i’m gonna off the DC comic writers. if you have any better ideas for their ages pls let me know im going to gouge my eyes out if i have to do any more math.

alfred: ???

-immortal. fuck you. he looked death in the face and told him to stop tracking mud all over his freshly mopped floors and that dinner was at eight.

bruce: 39

-had damian at eighteen bc i wanted it to be as close to his age gap with dick in canon as possible but i am not having this man fathering a child at 15

damian: 21

-came to gotham at age 8, refused to be a normal kid bc he was literally raised an assassin and bruce doesn’t know how to encourage nonviolent activities in children so letting him fight crime seemed… better than being an assassin. he, at the age of eight, could not come up with a name that wasn’t fucking Terrifying so whenever gordon asked for his “little shadow”‘s name they were suspiciously silent bc no, damian, you can not call yourself Vengeance or Malice. the media called him shadow and it stuck.

duke: 18

-wanted to keep his age gap with tim similar, but with duke being the older one, instead of doing dick and jason’s age gap bc it makes more sense this way.

-his parents got jokerified when he was 12, and so did a Lot of people in the Narrows. it absolutely decimated their little community so duke became signal. he didn’t fight crime, he gave back to his community, he helped with the cleanup. bruce ended up basically kidnapping the poor kid. (duke ran away from his foster home because he wasn’t a glorified babysitter or maid, fuck you, he can crash on couches.)

STEPH: 16

-again, wanted to keep the age gap between steph and tim the same but keeping steph the older one. makes more sense this way!! leave me alone.

-became spoiler at 13, was only spoiler for a year before she became shadow at 14 for about six months in between damian and jason. there was a six month period as well where bruce didn’t have a shadow and alfred literally had to bribe steph to be shadow bc he wasn’t abt to let a kid run around the gotham night without knowing batman was two steps ahead of them. plus, having a kid with him made bruce more cautious.

TIM: 15

-FINALLY got to mimicking the age gap between dick and jason in canon

-never becomes shadow, actually, he takes bab’s spot as their computer wiz. doesn’t call himself oracle though because he fucking sucks at making names. calls himself override (barf).

-also, steph is the only one who hes told he’s override to and also knows the batfam’s identities

-duke knows tim is override bc he’s scary like that!! tim doesn’t know duke knows he’s override, but duke knows that tim knows their identities and tim Also doesn’t know that. duke is fr terrifying. love him.

-tim figured out the batfam because of duke’s meta abilities bc he’s also scary like that

Jason: 14

-oh, he’s… currently out of commission. became shadow at 12.

-didn’t die in ethiopia, because fuck that plot. he was doing a stakeout but the joker had kidnapped this itty little baby (an eight year old boy) who he found running around the gotham night. jason went out of commission saving that little boy. what does out of commission mean? who knows. could be dead. could be severely injured. kidnapped. the possibilities are endless.

-i think it’s fucked that the comic fans voted for a fifteen year old to die by the joker. y’all are crazy.

cass: 13

-mimicking jason and cass’ age gap with cass being younger bc it makes more sense leave me alone

-isn’t a Batman approved shadow (yet) but she shadows batman anyways after jason’s… indisposed. the bonus is that batman doesn’t Know he has a shadow but gotham is kept in the dark abt shadow being (redacted) because cass and jason had the same exact fucking build, okay, jason hasn’t gotten his growth spurt yet (because of childhood malnutrition) . weird how batman lost weight though, after he went on that rage incident after the latest arrest of the joker. he’s leaner now. (is it the same batman? who knows.)

dick: 8

-mimicking the tim and damian age gap, bc it’s six years in my head leave me alone.

-huh, jason went out of commission saving an eight year old and dick is eight… suspicious. coincidence? hm.

babs: 7

-mimicking the babs and dick age gap but with babs being younger bc i think she’s older in canon? unsure. DC please i’m going to kill you and then me.

[storywriter007]

I Still Do - Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

summary: in which y/n meets a familiar face after a long time

warnings: cursing, toxicity, heartbreak

genre: angst

word count: 930

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

tossing and turning in her bed, y/n met another sleepless night. she'd been trying to sleep for an hour now with no luck. memories of the past haunted her and dreams of the future preyed on her peace. y/n figured no one would be awake right now anyways, it was almost two in the morning. she snuck out of bed and made her way down to the lake.

she sat on the grass and admired the serenity of nature. the animals, the stars, the rhythm of the water. she sat there in silence and reflected.

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

hearing footsteps, y/n didn't turn around. she was prepared for chiron to tell her to go back to her cabin and that she was to be punished for staying out past curfew.

"what's my punishment for staying out past curfew?" she asked, mindlessly staring into the lake.

"i dunno, i'm no chiron." a deep voice responded, taking a seat next to her.

y/n chuckled, turning to face what she thought would be chiron, but was met with sea green eyes instead. it's like she froze and was thrown into the past.

"hey." percy smiled.

damn it, he still had a nice smile.

"i haven't talked to you in-"

"a while?" she guessed.

"i was going to say forever, but okay." he laughed. "how have you been?"

"pretty good. you?"

"same."

as the awkward small talk passed, y/n slowly recalled how her and percy had become such good friends in the first place. they talked about movies, shows, songs, books, and things that annoyed them. it's like she'd forgotten how much fun he was.

"yeah and then leo was all like 'i'm gonna fight you, don't play with me' and then jason stood up and he fell backwards." percy said, barely being able to communicate as he was suffocated by laughter.

y/n hadn't laughed this hard in years, well two years, really.

"i can't even remember why we stopped talking." percy said, looking at the lake.

"i can't remember either." y/n laughed. "you ever get intimidated by jason?"

"no, he's only an inch taller than me anyways, what do i have to fear?" percy smiled. "the only blonde i'm scared of is annabeth."

y/n sighed. it's like she remembered why they stopped being friends all those years ago. as bad memories came rushing back to her, she became silent.

"dude, you okay?" he asked.

"yeah, i'm fine." she smiled. "i'm just gonna leave now-"

"really?" he sighed.

"mhm." y/n said, sitting up. "nice talkin to you jackson."

"i don't get it y/n. we used to be best friends and one day a few summers ago, you went cold on me." he stated.

she just nodded, staring out into the distance.

"why?" he asked. "never talk to me again, sure. but at least tell me why."

"i've got no answer." she lied.

"liar. you don't even talk to me anymore. you avoid making eye-contact with me. you refuse to be in the same room as me without five other people there. and you've got no answer? i might be stupid, but i'm not that stupid."

"if you weren't that stupid, you would've sure as hell figured it out by now."

"i just want to know why." he sighed.

"i told you. i don't know." she persisted.

"just say it." he pressed.

"i don't know."

"just say it." he pushed again.

"i don't know." she said, beginning to get annoyed with him.

"just say it!" he said loudly.

"i'm leaving." she said, getting up.

"y/n! just tell me!" percy got up and followed.

"because i was in love with you!" she turned around and blurted.

silence fell amongst them.

"what?" he asked.

"because we were good friends, and i thought you cared about me. i mean we ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. we binged countless halloween movies. we played outside all the time. a-and you stuck up for me when annabeth said shit to me. and i thought i you liked me for who i was." she said, remembering all the reasons she'd fell for the man in the first place. "but then you started dating annabeth, and i couldn't stand it." she said, pausing.

he looked at her, his eyes filling with sympathy and regret.

"why didn't you say anything?" he asked.

"because, you chose her." y/n said. "what as the point of me saying anything?"

"i loved you, percy." she said, shakily. "for a long time."

"why don't you want to be friends with me anymore then?" he asked desperately. "if it's in the past, it's in the past-"

"because sometimes i feel like i still do!" you said.

suddenly, they were interrupted.

"percy, what the hell are you doing here?" a familiar voice questioned him.

y/n found herself looking at a woman with curly blonde hair and gray eyes.

"n-nothing." he said. "was jus' talking to y/n." he explained, still looking at y/n.

tension was still in the air.

"yeah, i'm uh, going to bed now too." y/n said, trying her very best to not cry.

"chiron's going to kill us, percy!" annabeth whisper-yelled.

"don't worry." y/n said. "you won't see me again." eyes locking with percy's.

"y/n-" percy called out.

but y/n had started walking back. she turned around one last time to see percy and annabeth walking away, side-by-side, hand-in-hand.

y/n walked back alone, as the only hand for her to hold was her own. y/n walked back, knowing she still did.

[pearlessance]

Judge, Jury, Executioner - Idle Threats [ix]

Series Summary — Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for.

Chapter Summary — Joel puts everyone on trial and it brings back bloody memories. A farm just outside of Jackson offers a chance at peace.

Pairing — Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings — Explicit sexual content MDNI (no smut in this part, but in almost every other in the series), mention of sexual assault of minor, mention of canon typical violence, torture, and murder, brat taming, age gap (32yrs), mean!Joel, religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt, reader has added backstory to progress the plot

SERIES MASTERLIST

[cross posted to AO3]

It rains from dawn till dusk the day you return to Jackson.

Tommy, Maria, and Ellie are all waiting at the gates upon your arrival with smiles and tension on their shoulders that dissipates with seeing both of you alive and well. 

Joel holds Ellie close and tries not to think about how she looks so grown up already. He’d only been gone a couple weeks but she’s growing like a weed these days and it’s bittersweet to see. 

Tommy claps him on the back, laughs, and says, “Welcome back, brother. Glad to see you,” Joel watches from his peripheral the exchange between you and Maria.

You smile at first, as she takes your pack from you and hauls it over her shoulder instead. She places her hand against the side of your face in an affectionate way, but she doesn’t hold you. Doesn’t embrace you like a mother would embrace a child. She gives you a proud grin and asks, “Do you want the good news now or later?”

“Could always use some good news,” you say. 

And then Maria goes into a monologue about how Jesse and Dina came across an underground bunker on a patrol. It’s stocked full of canned food and hygienic supplies and expired antibiotics. There’s even fertilizer and pre-made plant food for a small greenhouse within the bunker. She guesses it was made by some prepper before the outbreak who never made it back home. “The fertilizer has the potential to double our supply before winter,” she says.

Joel’s jaw aches as he watches the light in your eyes dim and your easy smile fall. He worries he may break his teeth inside his mouth if he fights the cruel words for much longer. 

You’re not two feet past the gate and already she’s asking more of you. 

“Well, what do you think?” Maria urges. “Jesse offered to take Tommy and loot it but I told them to hold off until you got back. Figured you’d want in on it.”

He watches you swallow once, twice. Watches your lips part as you try to find your words. 

Joel finds them for you. “Maria,” he interrupts sternly. “We need to sit and have a talk.” He looks to his brother. “The four of us.”

Her brows furrow at the tone in his voice, but the guards and stragglers are looking on at the reunion, so Maria nods stiffly. “Sure. Let’s get this stuff to the supply drop off and we’ll meet back at the community hall. Should be empty today.” 

While Maria and Tommy take the supplies, Ellie takes the reins of both your horses and says, “You guys came back at the perfect time. I made spaghetti last night and accidentally made enough to feed a small army, so…dinner at Joel’s later. Yeah?”

When you laugh, it’s the first genuine smile he’s seen from you in the last twenty four hours. “Sounds good to me,” you tell her. “Thanks, El.”

The minute the two of you are alone, Joel finds himself saying, “You’re not going on that run.” 

In truth, he expects you to fight back. He expects you to hurl cruel words at him about how he doesn’t get to make decisions for you, about how he’s not in charge of you. 

But you don’t. And it breaks his heart and reassures him at the same time.

You assess him, trying to find a lie on his face, trying to tell if he’s kidding or not. 

Joel’s deathly serious. And he knows it’s the right decision when you stay completely silent and your eyes turn glassy. But it raises another concern. “How long have you wanted to stop?”

“A…a while,” you answer.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” He reaches for your hand, and it brings him relief to see the tension ease from your shoulders.

“The timing was never right. Someone always needs something.”

“Someone will always need something,” he explains. “It’s not your job to take care of everyone.”

You look away from him, bottom lip trembling. “Is that not selfish of me? To want someone else to put their lives at risk in place of myself?”

“I think it’s selfish Maria ever fuckin’ asked.” The answer comes quick, sharp, and angry. 

A scowl slips onto your features and thunder rolls through the clouds as if the heavens can feel your frustration. “I don’t like it when you talk about her like that.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like it when she talks to you at all.” He can sense you’ve got something to say, some rebuttal. But it remains unsaid like so much else.

“Can’t not talk to her, Joel. It’s her town.”

“And that gives her permission to gamble with your life?” He scoffs. 

This isn’t a battle he’s willing to cower for. Not when the cost is your peace. Because if not Joel, who else will fight for it? Not you and certainly not Maria.

He can see the emotion on your face and tries to lighten the mood. “Besides, you’ve ignored her before. You’re really good at the silent treatment when you wanna be.”

“Not when it comes to stuff like this,” you say. “Not when it’s about a girl’s health or the state of Jackson or food for the winter.”

“You’ve paid your dues and then some.”

It’s the truth and it sits heavy in the silence. You sigh deeply, running a hand through the rain-soaked tendrils of your hair. “I don’t want to talk about this, okay? I just…”

“Just what,” he urges. Joel can read you now, a whole lot better than he used to. He can see something stirring behind your eyes but whatever it is you swallow.

“Nothing. I’ll meet you at the community hall.” You don’t look at him. Joel’s not sure if it’s because you don’t want to or if it’s because you can’t.

And then you walk away, leaving him alone for the first time in weeks. He doesn’t like being apart from you, he quickly decides. 

But he understands wanting space and he wants to give to you whatever it is you need. So he lets you go, lets you return to your home alone and fights the deeply ingrained urge to follow you. 

He finds Ellie instead, holds her tight, and asks her how the last couple of weeks have gone.

“Good,” she says, but there’s a sort of hesitation in the word and Joel wonders why it is that the people he loves feel like they can’t be open with him today. And then she says slowly, “I…uhm, did something while you were gone.”

Joel furrows his brows in confusion but his answers come quickly as she begins to roll up her sleeve, revealing the black ink permanently tattooed into her skin. It’s just the outline, the artistry unfinished. There’s a leafy stem and some sort of moth or butterfly, he’s not sure. But immediately he sees the purpose of the tattoo’s placement. 

Ellie runs her thumb lightly over the ink, over the scar made from the bite of a clicker. “This way I won’t have to lie anymore,” she says. “No more chemical burn.”

He nods. “I like it,” he says. “It looks good.” 

“It's not finished yet,” she explains. “It’ll be better later.” She quiets for a moment, poking around at the fresh flowers she must have brought inside and stuck in a vase at Joel’s dining room table. “I uhm…I found something else.”

His brows furrow. “Found what?”

“Don’t be mad,” she immediately says.

And, of course, the words bring nothing but frustration and anxiety. Because Joel knows this is Ellie’s way of telling him she did something unsafe, something he’s not going to like. “O…kay,” he forces out. 

“You remember when we talked on the way to Jackson and you said if you could do anything you’d want that farmhouse with the sheep?”

Joel nods. “Yeah, I remember. On the moon.”

Ellie laughs. “Yeah, that one. Well…Dina and I were on patrol last week and we went a little off trail—”

“Ellie—”

"I know, I know! But just listen.”

His jaw ticks but he does as she asks. He can see the light behind her eyes, can see the excitement on her face, and he doesn’t want to ruin it when she’s home safely anyway.

A silent moment passes before she continues. “We found this house. A couple miles away from Jackson. Less than a day’s ride. Two stories with a trail in the woods and a big, fenced in barn out back. Completely abandoned. The siding is weathered and painted this ugly yellow color but there’s a wrap around porch and everything, Joel.”

It sounds like everything he’d imagined in his head all those years ago. But those were his plans before he found Jackson. Before Ellie settled in here. Before you. And now he can’t imagine leaving this place because he knows he’ll never be able to pry you away from here. “Ellie…” he shakes his head and looks away, suddenly noticing the drop of blood spilled on the lace of his left boot. 

“It’s yours, Joel,” she insists. “I know it is. I saw it and I just knew it.”

For a single moment, he allows himself to consider it. Let’s himself dream of a life with you, a life that’s as close to before as you’ll ever have the chance to experience. He thinks about the way you’d look while Joel stands in the doorway, admiring the way the sunlight casts shadows across your face as you hang clothes on the line out back to dry. He imagines holding you in his lap on the front porch beneath the moonlight, imagines planting lavender in the yard and playing songs for you around a bonfire.

He wants that for you. Wants to provide someplace safe where you can just exist with no obligation to do anything you don’t want to do. He wants to give that to you, wants to share it with you.

But that would mean leaving Ellie. It would mean leaving Jackson. It would mean you would have to leave Maria. 

And strong as you are, stubborn as you are…Joel’s not sure you’d ever let yourself be free of the shackles of this place.

“Just think about it,” Ellie says softly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just figured…I don’t know. I can’t imagine you in a place like this forever, Joel. I can’t imagine you anywhere but there now.”

He stands to his feet. “We’ll, uh…we’ll go look at it soon. Together. Sound fair?”

She nods but persists. “After you go talk to Maria at the community hall.” 

“Ellie, I—”

“Less than a day’s ride, Joel. We’ll be back before sundown.”

He’s never been good at denying her anything.

By the time he’s leaving his house to meet you, Maria, and Tommy, Ellie stands in his kitchen wrapping up sandwiches for them to eat on the way home. 

Maria and Tommy beat him there. She leads them inside, and Joel’s relieved to find the hall completely devoid of life. Maria switches on the light and she and Tommy sit at the long table in the front of the room. 

He starts to feel a little bit like he’s on trial. You’ve yet to make an appearance, so Joel stands awkwardly in front of them. 

“Can I ask what it’s about…?” Maria questions hesitantly. There’s a sort of unease on her face that drives Joel insane because he knows she can feel it. Knows she can sense your loyalty shifting, knows she’s not afraid of losing you but instead of losing the hold she has on you. 

When Joel says nothing, Tommy scoffs and leans back in his chair. “C’mon, man. The suspense is killing me.”

“Five more minutes,” he says. “Let’s just wait five more minutes.”

It only takes three before Maria loses her patience. “She’s not coming, Joel. Say what you have to say so we can all get on with our day, please.”

Fine, he decides. “Let me be blunt, then. She’s not going to loot that supply bunker and she’s not going on any run after that, either.”

Maria tilts her head. “Excuse me?”

“I mean it,” Joel tells her. “It ain’t her job to do all the runs for the town. Spread it out evenly. Jesse and Dina and Cat and Adam. Abel, even.”

“She’s not our only runner, Joel,” Tommy says. 

“No, but she’s the only one you send on the dangerous ones.”

“They’re all dangerous,” Maria insists.

It makes Joel laugh. He shouldn’t, and he knows it’ll do nothing but enrage her but he can’t help it. “Sure,” he mocks.

“You got somethin’ to say, Miller?”

“Matter of fact, I do.” He squares his shoulders. “Whatever it is you have against her, whatever vendetta you’re workin’, it ends here. You understand me? She’s not some tool for you to use, Maria. She’s a little fuckin’ girl.”

"A little girl? And what’s that say about you, then?”

It’s an attack. His jaw ticks. Joel’s never wanted to hit a woman before but he resists the urge to strangle Maria now. “That ain’t what this is about and you know it.”

“Alright, guys, let’s take a breath,” Tommy suggests, hand raised.

“Right. You think I’m some monster. Do you really think that’s what this is? That I’m using her like a tool?”

“S’what I said, ain't it?”

“We’ve all got roles to play here.”

"An’ yours is judge an’ jury, I’m guessing.”

Maria stands from her seat at the table. “What did she tell you?”

“Enough,” he answers. “Know all about her sister, know she died on a run you insisted on. Know you blame her for something out of her control and that’s why you’re always lettin’ her go on these risky runs alone.”

"Oh, is that what she said? Interesting.”

He ignores the unease that rises in him. “How would you feel if it was your kid you were sendin’ out there and for what? Antibiotics? You say you love her like she’s your own but if that were true, you’d want to keep her safe, not send her out there to die.”

“I don’t make her do anything,” she says. “It’s her own choice.”

“Is it, Maria? Tell me something. When was the last time you asked her if she wanted to go?”

“Guys—”

“You think you know her, Joel, but you don’t.” There’s a cutting edge to Maria’s voice. A warning.

“I know enough,” he insists.

“Said her sister died on a run, did she?” Maria shakes her head and rounds the table. She steps right in front of him, spine straight and nose in the air. “If you really want to know the truth about that girl, you don’t need the story of what happened to Sarah. Ask her about Thomas.”

Maria storms out of the hall without another word, leaving Joel and Tommy alone.

Silence lingers for several minutes. Joel presses his fingers into his temples in an attempt to abate the ache that’s bloomed to no avail.

He knows you hadn’t told him the whole truth, but finds himself wondering just how much you left out of your story.

“I get why you’re upset,” Tommy says. “Hell, I can’t say I would feel any different if I were in your shoes. But…Maria’s been dealin’ with this for a long time, Joel. Whatever agreement they’ve come to, whatever they feel for each other…it’s not really our business.”

”It is mine now, Tommy,” he explains. And a look passes between them at his confession. One that makes his brother aware that Joel has thrown all advice, all reason, all sensibility to the wind. He’s chosen you and there’s no going back.

He’d wondered yesterday how his brother would react. Worried about what he’d say, how he’d feel. But Joel finds now that the words have left his mouth and there’s no taking them back that he doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him.

Tommy stands and makes his way to the door. He hesitates with his hand on the brass knob, and when he looks back at Joel he says, “She wasn’t on a run. She was exiled from Jackson.”

And then he’s gone, and Joel’s alone, feeling more blindsided than he ever has before. 

Exiled? 

He’s out of the community hall and knocking on your door before he realizes he’s even moving. You don’t answer after his first attempt. Not even after his second or third.

But when he tries again, fist banging against the wood, unrelenting, the door swings open and you stand on the other side with bloodshot eyes and a scowl on your face. “I’m not going, Joel. I don’t want to be a part of your pissing contest with Maria.”

This feels familiar, he realizes. Like deja vu. He remembers suddenly standing outside your door, all but begging you to participate in your watch shift. He'd forced you to back then, not understanding why you'd fought so hard over one trivial night. He understands a little better now and wants to understand you in this, too.

He pushes inside your home and closes the door behind you. He doesn’t know how to approach the topic carefully, and his nerves grate at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks, but he knows he won’t rest easily until he knows the full truth. “Why were you exiled?”

One by one, Joel watches the emotions cross your face. Disbelief at first, and then acceptance, and then rage. And he knows you’re going to direct it at him but knows, too, that he can take it. He doesn’t care what your answer is. Doesn’t care what the story will unfold.

Because you’re his. His little girl. Everything else is inconsequential. 

Still, he doesn’t expect it when you answer with a single, wrath-soaked word. “Murder.”

Every moment he’s had with you filters through his mind. Bratty and hurt and angry, yes. But murderous?

He tries to imagine it. Tries to see you with the blood of an innocent on your hands and the image refuses to take form. 

But when he imagines something else, something a little more than mindless violence…

Ask her about Thomas.

“Who?”

“Maria’s first husband.”

Joel shakes his head. He knows there’s more and he has to hear it. If for nothing else than to understand you better. So, he sits on the sofa in the same place he normally lays his coat and settles in. “Tell me all of it.”

And you do. 

You tell him all about Thomas who hated you from the beginning, who tried to convince Maria to have you leave Jackson the moment he set his eyes on you. “I think he saw me for what I was,” you admit. “I think he saw me and knew I’d never be fooled by someone like him.”

Thomas, however, adored your sister. Doted on her, even. Brought her books on the local fauna or clumps of moss for her to study. Taught her how to pin dead insects on a piece of styrofoam to preserve them safely without damaging their fragile wings.

“I knew it was…weird,” you admit to him. “But she’d never had anything like that. It’d always been just me and her, and now that there was someone who could give her the things I’d never be able to? I couldn’t just take that from her because he made me a little uncomfortable.”

Eventually, long conversations over dinner with Maria and Thomas grew later and later.

“I always wanted to go home before dark,” you tell Joel. “But Sarah, she…she always wanted to stay. Wanted to watch those documentaries about animals, wanted to dry out one more moth to add to her collection. Maria…she was the one who suggested Sarah could sleep on the couch if she didn’t want to walk home alone. And I didn’t really think anything of it.”

His stomach turns. Joel feels like he knows where this is headed but doesn’t want to admit it to himself.

“She was…she was there. It wasn’t just Sarah and Thomas, Maria was there, too. So I thought it would be fine, you know? I thought…I dont know.” You shake your head. “I could never sleep until she came home, though. I’d always sit on the porch waiting for her and she’d always laugh about it, but…I just had this weird gut feeling. And…one night, she was out so late I was tempted to go over and drag her home by her hair. But then I could see her, just… sprinting home. Running full fucking speed and I don’t know how but I just…I knew.”

You don’t give much detail about what happened. But you tell him enough. You tell Joel about how you’d run so fast to meet your sister in the middle of the street that your side ached as Sarah’s shaking voice tells you all about how Thomas slipped his hand beneath her skirt while they watched a movie in the garage.

“Maria was asleep,” you say, voice taking on a strangely melancholic tone. “She didn’t see it. I don’t think I could ever blame her, not really. But it wasn’t Maria at fault. Not Maria who deserved to be punished. Not for this.”

And then you tell Joel about the way you’d found Thomas with his jeans around his ankles in his garage. You tell him about the way you held a knife to his throat and forced him to follow you outside, through the streets of Jackson. How you’d threatened his life, frightened this grown man so badly that he’d pissed himself when you’d slipped out of the commune’s gates and found an abandoned house two miles away.

You tell Joel you took your time in dealing the damage. How you’d pulled out his teeth, his fingernails, his tongue. Thomas confessed a hundred times over and apologized twice as much. Yet you couldn’t hear it, didn’t even try because no apology would erase the damage done to the one person on the planet that you loved, the one person who'd ever loved you just as fiercely. You tell Joel it took five days to bleed Thomas dry because you’d avoided cutting him along any major arteries, avoided cutting too deep.

“Maria’s search party found me digging his grave. And I thought…I thought they’d kill me right then. Thought they’d see his mangled corpse and put a bullet between my eyes. But I think…sometimes I think what they did instead was worse.”

They’d brought you back. Tied your hands and feet and dragged you back to Jackson kicking and screaming. Made you sit in a chair in the middle of the community hall in front of Maria and tell her what you’d done. You tell him this is why you'd refused to be back in that hall, put on trial in front of her again. You explain that even when you tell the whole of Jackson what Thomas had done to your sister, no one believed it. 

“Or…I don’t know. Maybe they did. But Maria didn’t, and she’s the only person whose opinion really mattered. She was the one who decided what would happen to me.”

Thomas was a likable guy, you explain. You explain, too, that he’d met Maria when they were in high school and had been with her since. He meant an awful lot to her, the same way Sarah meant an awful lot to you.

“My saving grace was my sister’s testimony. She’d given up any sense of privacy and told them everything. This sweet, innocent person…someone who everyone knew and loved. It was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. Maria…I think she took pity not on me but on her. On Sarah. Because I had to look Maria in the eye and tell her how I’d killed her husband and I know it was one of the most traumatic things she’s ever dealt with and I don’t think she wanted to be responsible for doing the same to Sarah.”

So, she’d exiled you. Told you that if she ever saw you again there would be no second chance. No hesitation. She gave you two hours to gather your things and flee from Jackson’s confines, never to be seen again.

“Problem was that Sarah refused to stay in Jackson without me,” you tell him. And Joel can feel the despair in your body as if it’s some living thing existing both inside and outside of you. “I tried to convince her to stay because it was the safest place for her. The only place she’d ever have a chance.”

“It wasn’t a run,” Joel says gently. “She left with you. That’s when it happened.”

A lone tear slides down your cheek. He reaches over and swipes it away.

“I knew…I knew Maria was going to shoot me on sight. I knew that. But I couldn’t…I couldn’t just bury her anywhere. She deserved to be put to rest someplace safe. Someplace with a headstone for moss to grow on, where people would bring her flowers and strange bugs, where people could come back to her. I was so afraid she would be alone and I couldn’t…”

You don’t have to say anymore. Joel can see your reasoning, clear as day. Because he can’t say he would’ve done any differently. Because if she were buried here in Jackson’s cemetery, people would visit her grave. And if Maria did decide to shoot you on sight, then Sarah wouldn’t be alone. Wherever she is.

Pressure builds behind his eyes.

“She let me…Maria, she let me stay. Under the condition that I provide for Jackson. And if I were to ever hurt anyone else, I wouldn’t be exiled next time.”

“That’s why she sends you on runs? So you can continue to provide, to atone?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t like you’re thinking, Joel. She saved me. I had nothing left to live for, nothing left at all. And I think Maria needed someone who understood her loss and I was the only one who could. She needed a child to take care of and I needed… something. Someone.”

A humming persists in his brain. He tries to imagine it, tries to put himself in your shoes. He wonders what it would be like if he’d returned to Jackson after the violence caused by his own hand in Salt Lake City.

He tries to imagine standing in front of Maria, in front of the whole of Jackson and giving them every gruesome detail. He tries to imagine having the strength to stay even with the way they’d all look at him after and doesn’t think he could do it for anything.

She’s lost enough, Joel.

Bit of a troublemaker, really.

Explosive, defiant, easily provoked. 

Never does as she’s told. Fights Maria an’ I on everything.

All you’d done was all you’d ever known. You brought justice with your own two hands in the way you’d been taught from the moment of your birth. You’d done nothing but protect the only family you had left.

Is that worthy of exile? Of execution? He doesn’t think so. 

Joel realizes then he’s got this all wrong. The whole time he was seeing this through the wrong lens. You’re not some devil. Not some Judas sent to tempt him away from holiness.

You’re a caged animal. 

You bite the hand that feeds because the hand has done nothing else but beat you. You know the horrors of the world intimately and are expected to just forgive God for all the aches He caused. And when you don’t, when you can’t—they call you violent. They call you trouble. A bad omen. 

 Joel realizes you’re just like him.

“Is this still what you need?” He takes your hand in his and can think of nothing but how unfair life has been to you. “The runs, the purpose she’s forced you into. Tell me the truth. Is it still what you need?”

Your tears flow a little freer now and Joel feels himself begin to choke. He wishes so badly he could take this away, take all of it, and shoulder it for you. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I don’t…I thought I did until…”

“Until what, sweetheart?”

“Until you.”

It makes him shatter and heals him all at once. “There’s a farm,” he finds himself saying. “A few miles out. We could…we could go there. The two of us. Live a life there. All our own. You wouldn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to.”

“Joel…”

“No runs for anything. Not barbecue chips, not antibiotics, nothing.”

You shake your head and he can see real, genuine fear in your glassy eyes. “If I leave her she will never forgive me. She’ll never let me back in.”

“You won’t ever need to come back,” he promises. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“What about Tommy and Ellie? Bonnie, Greg?”

“They can come to us,” he says. “Ellie’s the one who found it. We’re going there today so I can see it. Look at me, baby. Look at me.”

When you do, he feels his lungs get caught in his throat. He wants you to rest, to find peace.

You are his forgiveness, his absolution, his redemption. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t do everything in his power to grant you the same relief? 

Murderous or not there is still so much softness in you and he doesn’t know how it’s possible that he’s the only one who sees it. He suddenly remembers your words the night he’d admitted his devotion in that church.

I was afraid. If I came back to Jackson without the one thing she asked for, what use was I? What kept me there?

Joel hates that you’ve ever felt that way. Hates that the thought has ever crossed your mind. He decides to push a little harder. 

“Your worth is not up to her,” he insists. “It’s not now and it wasn’t then, either. If you never provided another thing for anyone but yourself you still matter. I need you to hear me when I say it.”

You wipe at your tired eyes and let out a long breath. “I’m scared,” you admit quietly. “Everything will be different.”

“It needs to be, sweetheart,” he says, pulling you into his side. You lay your head on his shoulder and he begins to feel at ease again. “It needs to be different so it can be better.”

Joel rubs soothing circles against your spine with one hand and twirls a lock of your hair around his finger with the other. He holds you until your silent tears subside, until the moisture on his flannel dries, until your breathing slows and he knows you’re on the verge of sleep. But before you close your eyes, you look up at him and say quietly, “Okay. A farm.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead and tugs the blanket off the back of the sofa, laying it across your lap when you begin snoring softly. You look so beautiful it pains him to leave.

But he does, and he finds Ellie in the stables with two horses already saddled. “Lets go, Mr. Farmer,” she jokes. “Time to see your new home.”

The thought crosses his mind that Joel’s home is behind him, sleeping behind a locked door.

—

Ellie was right. The house on the farm is the ugliest yellow Joel’s ever seen. 

But he feels it the moment he sees it, too. 

His. Yours.

It’s everything he imagined. Everything he’s ever wanted. Weathered and run down but built on good bones.

On the ride home he asks her, “Are you coming with us?”

Ellie doesn’t ask who the us is. She just knows. Has likely known for some time, in truth. “Uhm…maybe.” 

He waits a few minutes, and lets the clopping of horse hooves fill the silence. When she doesn’t speak anymore, doesn’t give any further answer, Joel offers an olive branch. “Whatever you decide, I want you to make the decision that feels right. Trust your gut. If you want to come with us, we’ll paint your room together. Round up some of them paint supplies, get you an easel or somethin’,” he says. 

Slowly, she turns in the saddle the smallest bit to look at him. “And…if I don’t?”

Joel knows he’ll have a hard time with it. Knows it’ll be like hacking off a limb; a painful sort of itch. But he’s been working on letting her take the space she needs. Working on trusting her a little more to make her own choices. “Then you don’t,” he says simply.

He can see the decision being weighed on her face. Can see how difficult this is for her, too. 

So he says, “But you’ll have to come visit three times a week.”

“Three?”

“Or more,” he says through a laugh. 

Her mouth falls open. “You could come visit too, you know,” she suggests. “Stock up on supplies. Me and Shimmer can’t do all the heavy lifting.” She leans forward and pats her horse’s smooth neck. 

“I don’t know if we’ll be allowed to come back,” he says slowly. The more he’s contemplated it, the less he can see Maria being okay with losing that control she has over you in its entirety. Of no longer being able to enact her unending revenge.

Ellie doesn’t say anything for several minutes. Joel can sense that she knows something else is going on, knows that she likely has more questions than he has answers. But she doesn’t ask them. Instead, she says simply, “Well, then I guess me and Shimmer will have to do all the heavy lifting.”

It makes him laugh. “You think she can take it?”

“Duh,” she says. “She’s the fastest and smartest horse we’ve got.”

Joel chuckles. “Now, I don’t know about all that.”

He knows what’s coming, can see it from a mile away. 

Ellie leans forward, tightens her hold on the reins, and soars off into the distance. “Good luck keeping up, old man!”

When he comes home to you, Joel tells you every little detail he can remember about the farm. He tells you about the ugly, yellow siding and the overgrown yard and about the wildflowers that grow in the field next to the red barn out back. He tells you about the natural wood floors and the porcelain sink and the brick fireplace.

You hang onto every word with rapt attention, and the two of you decide to tell Tommy and Maria that night.

Joel takes the lead for this conversation too, just like the one in the community hall, because he sees your fist shake as you raise it to knock on their front door. He’s careful with his words but blunt all the same. 

The four of you sit at their kitchen table. Maria’s got her eyes on you and you’ve got yours on Joel. 

“We’ll be leaving Jackson,” Joel says. “There’s a farm a few miles away. We’re going to make a home there. The two of us.”

Tommy, at least, seems thrilled. “That one with the yellow siding? I saw that a few months ago. Reminded me of you. Like those big bungalows we built back in the nineties up in Houston,” he says. “I’ll help you fix it up.”

Maria says nothing at first. She just stares at you, and her ire is palpable. 

But then she looks at Joel, sees his scowl and the set of his jaw, and her composure cools if only a little. She doesn’t attack you with cruel words like he half expects. 

She does something worse.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” she tells you, voice cold and cutting. “Jackson will suffer because of your selfish decisions. Whatever happens to them is on you.”

“It’s not selfish,” Joel snaps. “She’s not responsible for your fucking town.”

“Hey, Joel, let’s—”

“No, Tommy. You might be able to turn a blind eye to this bullshit but I can’t.”

Maria waves her hand between the two of you. “Our agreement has nothing to do with you, Joel. And I��m really trying to be civil here, but—”

“Civil? Oh, so you think it’s civil to manipulate a little girl into thinkin’ she’s good for nothin’ but makin’ sure you get whatever you want?” Joel scoffs.

“Joel,” Tommy warns. “You’re gettin’ outta line here, man.”

Maria turns her narrowed eyes on you. “That’s what he thinks you are, huh? Some innocent girl, thinks you’ve done nothing wrong? You’ve spun one hell of a story, here. I’ll give you—”

“No,” Joel interrupts. “No more. You got somethin’ to say to her, you go through me first. You hear me?”

“She’s a murderer, Joel. Did you know that?”

“I don’t care what she’s done,” he says, and it’s perhaps the truest thing he’s ever said. It doesn’t matter how brutal, doesn’t matter how bloody. Joel Miller will always love you enough to forgive your sins. “Don’t care what you’ve got to say, either.”

He takes your shaking hand in his and pulls you to your feet. 

When he speaks, he does so to his brother only.

“Do what you have to do. We’ll be gone by tomorrow night.”

[part eight] [part ten]

taglist; @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @elliesr1fle @pascaltesfaye

[masterlist]

[obsidianbaby]

Don't Love Me Like A Brother - Prologue

Brothers Best Friend Series - PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1 -

series synopsis - ronnie's younger brother, tyler, is a famous youtuber & influencer and is best friends with the sturniolos. This series will be following ronnie's life as she befriends the triplets and catches herself developing feelings for a certain someone...

**series will contain smut as it develops but warnings will be added to those specific chapters

**found myself writing a few flashback chapters before present day just to build up the established friendships bc I'm impatient and don't want the slow burn to drain anyone 😭

warnings/notes - no smut in this as it's just the prologue to introduce y'all to the story.

a/n - starting this series and im very exciteddddddd i hope y'all fuck with a slow burn, friends to lovers best friends brother type beat. Buckle up mfs it's gonna be an angsty ride

a/n pt 2 - im not gonna share who ronnie develops feelings for just yet I want y'all to be on edge okok enjoy MWAH xx

__________________________________

PROLOGUE

ronnies pov

having a brother who's famous on social media is humbling to say the least.

The amount of fan girls who have followed my accounts just because they're obsessed with him makes me question many people's sanity (including my own).

But tyler is one of my best friends. And thank god for my dad, who from the jump, did not tolerate any misogynistic bullshit from my brother.

Raising two kids as a single dad after my mom passed away (before ty and I were older than the age of 5) was tough for him and he embraced the times when he needed support (like when i first got my period, bless his heart he bought almost every type of menstrual product off the shelf).

His values were the perfect structure for us to grow up following; respect, open communication, giving our best efforts to everything (even if the only effort we could offer up was a 60% instead of a 100%)

My childhood friends would always whine about how "chill" my dad was. And it's not cause he didn't care, (he probably cares too much) but he didn't want to shield us either, knowing we need to learn how to exist in the world without him constantly up our asses.

"As long as we can talk about shit at the end of the day then we're good" one of his favorite mantras he would spew to me and ty when we would get caught doing something you might call a "right of passage" as a teenager.

And since it was just the three of us, we've always leaned on each other a lot. Sunday family dinners at nans' every week, taking turns helping my dad at his shop after school (he's a car mechanic), movie nights every thursday night where my dad would close up shop early, setting up the projector in the shop garage and ordering us pizza. My brother has been a best friend to me since I held him in my arms at the age of 3 when he was born.

And of course, we have the usual chaotic fights to the death like most siblings do, him pranking me in the most annoying ways, me making fun of his dumbass, him eating all of my food, me stealing his cool clothes, him begging me to uber him around everywhere, etc.

But we also just really enjoy each other's company too; going on late night walks around town, sitting in bed staying up talking all night, playing mario cart for hours (id always kick his ass), going adventuring together to forests or beaches, hanging out at the skate park together (me laughing at him eating shit and him chasing me around trying to whack me with his board), us both ditching our friends to stay at home and yap to each other instead, us having campfires in the backyard with both of our friend groups together, working on restoring mom's 1967 ford mustang together that she left us when she passed.

So when he came to me a few years back, during the pandemic, asking my thoughts on him posting on youtube, I was in full support (after teasing him that no one would find him, an 18 year old lanky white boy about to graduate high school funny or interesting. I have to keep him humble ya know?)

But his first few videos on youtube went viral and his following kept growing daily, especially when he started posting on tiktok too.

He's had me (and even my dad) featured in his videos which i don't mind at all (since im the one that's editing them)

I can see why the internet loves him (i did help raise him of course).

But since he's hit over 3 million on youtube last year, he's been doing a shit ton of collabs with other influencers and youtubers; the sturniolo triplets, larray, emma chamberlain, jake webster, tarayummy, vinnie hacker, carrington, etc.

And these days I try to stay behind the scenes as much as possible, trying to enjoy my solitude away from the opinions of crazy fans. (why do they care so much about what im doing anyways?)

Yet he understands (thank god) and he's always inviting me to come hangout with the friends he's made through social media, and i can't lie and say i don't enjoy being in the company of such dope (and attractive) people.

END OF PROLOGUE

______________________________________________

a/n - hellooooo i have a few more parts already written for this but im gonna wait to see how this post goes first (because i have a dire need for validation and praise) anywaysssss thank you for reading mwah xx

[20-th-centurygirl]

sfw alphabet

levi colwill x reader

a/n: you can find the nsfw version here <3

masterlist navigation

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

so so affectionate! he's always so touchy with you like he cannot keep his hands off you and not in a sexual way he just needs to have some sort of contact with you

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

feel like he'd be such a flirty best friend. always being touchy and making little comments (you're 100% always snogging at the end of a night out together) and there's always a lil tension but neither of you ever actually want to confess ofc you both eventually do and that's the whole reason you got together in the first place 🤭

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

loves them!! spending loads of time together is rare so whenever he has the chance he's just latching onto you like a koala and refusing to let go

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

in my head levi is an absolutely awful cook but he secretly teaches himself to cook so he can eventually cook you your favourite food on your birthday and have a whole 5 course candle lit dinner at home 🥹

he seems super tidy too like he won't ever leave mess because he just doesn't like it.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

depends on the reason why you're breaking up but i think he'd try to be as civil and respectful about it as he could

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

he isn't really in a big rush to get married or engaged to you because he knows you're not going anywhere so he doesn't see the need to rush

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

so so gentle with you he literally treats you like royalty. you are his angel and he will always make sure you know that.

emotionally he's the same. he's always so mindful that you don't like arguing and that you'd rather talk about your feelings and communicate instead of having a big fight.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

his favourite hugs are hugs from behind ! he loves coming up behind you and just wrapping his arms so tightly around you and nuzzling his face into your neck, pressing little kisses all over you.

and he adores it when you do the same to him ! like you come up behind him while he's cooking (can manage a pot noodle and tbags about it bless him) while he's in just joggers and he melts when you wrap your arms around him and press kisses to his bare back. and he loves that you're so much shorter than him 🤭

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

you had to say it first. he knew he was hopelessly in love with you really early into your relationship but he was super nervous about lovebombing you so he stayed quiet. but oh my god his reaction when you told him you loved him!! no win or trophy could ever compare to you loving him!

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

i think it's very rare he does actually get jealous. he's just so so confident in your relationship and he knows full well (because he's seen it before) that you'll tell someone that's flirting with you that you're not interested because you have a boyfriend.

but when he does!! he needs a very good reason to and he will literally march over, slide his hand round your throat and pull you in for the most dizzying kiss before pulling away, smiling and whoever is trying it on with you and walking off

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

kissing you is his favourite thing in the world !

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

so so cute. he wants a baby with you in the future so he's always trying to show off to you about how good he is around kiss.

like you're babysitting your niece and he's just being the best around her and going all "maybe we should have one?"

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

he's normally off to training super early so lazy sundays are literally his favourite days ever. just waking up late and smothering your face with kisses to wake you up (and ofc that leads to the softest slowest sex ever) then just making breakfast before going out on a little walk and coming home to watch movies and nap on the sofa !!

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

nights are when you get to spend the most time together so you both take advantage of that. cooking dinner together and cleaning up together before showering together. then you're forcing levi to do a whole skincare routine (that he secretly adores) and cuddling in bed!

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

in my head he opened up to you completely after a really bad game. like you'd been together for a few months so he was still keeping himself super closed off. but he had a really bad game (maybe even had a little injury) and all you did was smile and ask him if he was okay and he just broke down about how tired he was. it's that first time he was ever completely vulnerable around you and he knew you were the perfect person for him the way that you reacted.

then i think after that and just further into you're relationship he's really good at communicating and it's rare that you have an argument.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

his patience on and off the pitch are so so different. when he's with you he is literally so so calm. you're literally perfection in levi's eyes and there's nothing you could do to change that.

but when he does get angry he tries his best not to take it out on you, and if he does he'll leave you for a little bit to calm himself down before wrapping himself around you and mumbling little sorrys in between kisses

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

he remembers absolutely everything about you idc. literally every little detail about you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

anytime you go to his games he gets so giddy. the first time you went he was so so happy and was the biggest show off ever

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

so so protective! you're his girl and no one is ever allowed to hurt you!

he adores your protective streak and he can't help but get so giddy when he sees how angry you get at fans for criticising him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

always always goes above and beyond. honestly he will always make sure you have the best because you're his girl and that's exactly what you deserve!!

dates and anniversaries are literally perfect because he can read you like a book and he knows the way to your heart!

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

i feel like he always puts your needs above his? he could have had the worst game of his life and be so so miserable but he refuses to actually put those needs above yours? he's good at communicating when it comes to things that bother him but he is awful at communicating his feelings.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

he always makes sure he looks his best for you!

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

absolutely. you are literally his whole world.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

he loves wearing matching outfits ! they're super subtle but you're always matching

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

i don't think he'd be interested in someone that's super vain? he'd rather date someone that's super down to earth and knows that there's way more to life than money and looks.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

he loves naps! always dragging you to the sofa under a huge pile of blankets so you can have a nap together

[ofallthingsnasty]

May I request yandere reo mikage manipulating his s/o making them think they need him. This causes Stockholm Syndrome and they later get married and have a child. Reo is praised in the public for being a billionaire, pro-soccer player, good husband and father.

tags: yandere, reo is 20+, emotional abuse, sfw but minors please dni, pregnancy discussion but no pronouns are used word count: 0.7k

Oh, Reo... deceptively sweet and caring Reo. Who needs Stockholm Syndrome when your boyfriend never gave you any weird feelings in the first place, when he showers you with gifts and affection? He is all you could ever ask for, attentive beyond belief and willing to do just about anything for you. He seems to be too good to be true, really: a pro-athlete, rich, only has eyes for you. Who wouldn't get swept up by that? And my, isn't he just like a lovesick little puppy with how he sends you flowers to your workplace, how he picks you up whenever he can - whisking you away for yet another expensive dinner, a new mini-vacation every other weekend. Sweet and handsome and above all, generous - you don't want to leave. It's easy to simply ignore what lurks beneath the surface of that bright smile and boyish enthusiasm: How much he needs you, how he doesn't let go of people he has picked - he's either extremely hot or cold with those few, chosen ones. We've seen how he treats Nagi when all is well, when he can put his faith in someone - but we've also seen how he gets when those feelings get trampled into the ground. He's definitely the type to always try to smooth the waves, who never wants to fight but also has a very peculiar way of communicating any issues he has with your behavior. He doesn't like it all that much when your attention strays from him, for whatever reason. He's extremely emotionally manipulative. Never the one to outright forbid you from going out or even keeping you - but he'll act so cold, will mope for days after you spent a night out, when you dive into one of your hobbies instead of spending time with him. Everything that doesn't suit him is some sort of betrayal to Reo, makes him turn frosty until you apologize for something you don't quite understand. It's subtle and very gradual but you'll soon try to phase out everything that upsets him. It's just so hard to weather his depressive moods, to be in the same house as him while he can't face you without a look of clear disappointment and hurt in his eyes. Not only does he wean you from all your silly little distractions, he rewards you for not giving any of your precious time to your friends and family - even more expensive gifts, the finest food and above all, so much love and praise that it makes you feel dizzy and desperate when he punishes you again after a perceived mishap. He has the art of manipulation down and no matter how much you try to fight against it - you love him. And seeing someone you love so dearly all vulnerable and hurting is bound to shape your behavior. You'll find yourself so entangled in the webs he weaves after just a few months of being together, so dependent on him that you question your ability to ever be single again.

He doesn't view having a child with you as a way to shackle you to him - he genuinely wants a baby, dreams of that picture-perfect little family, of raising a little human with you. A child is the ultimate union between the two of you, the purest declaration of love. That's why it hurts him all the more when you tell him you don't want one right now. Reo just doesn't understand - he has all the money to support you, you've been together for quite a while, had your fun - why not take that jump with him? It feels like you're rejecting him and his love. He won't force you into anything but he'll give you his coldest shoulder yet. He takes your gentle later, honey, just not now and twists it into you completely blindsiding him. He can't even look at you - leaves the house without saying goodbye, doesn't sleep in the same bed as you - hell, you'll even catch him crying once. Reo wears you down emotionally, makes you feel so ungrateful and selfish for denying him this simple thing that you'll fold just after a few days. Does it really matter if you wait another year before you start trying? Doesn't he have all the money in the world to hire a whole gaggle of nannies? What will really change? You only have things to gain. And if it keeps him happy, keeps his eyes shining and you in his good graces, why not start now?

[cupcakemolotov]

Ex's and Oh's: Part Two

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known; Minor Character Death; Magical Realism; We Make War Not Love; Post-Divorce; These Two Fools in Love; Klaus and Caroline Being Territorial; for each other; tyler is dead; kind of; Canon-Typical Violence; Violence; Murder; Werewolf!Klaus; Human!Caroline

Caroline's return to New Orleans is a little less triumphant than she'd like. There is a dead body in her trunk and a magical artifact in her passenger seat, and no matter how much she'd like too, the chances of avoiding her ex-husband are astronomically small. What, with the mate bond and all, but a girl's gotta hope.

“Caroline, why are we here?” Bonnie asked as she looked around at the familiar bar they’d once visited regularly before. Before.

Caroline looked up from her pile of beer battered fries. “I missed you?”

Bonnie gave her a look. “I missed you too, but I expected this chat to happen like, three days from now. You know, once you settled in and actually had the time to try that thing most of us do called communicating with your ex.”

“We should definitely go out again soon,” Caroline agreed with a nod. “This time with cocktails instead of beer, maybe during that dinner you could give me a list of who these mythical ex’s of yours are that you’d willing talk to. I only have the Curse on Sight bullet point list saved to my phone.”

“Caroline,” Bonnie said in fond exasperation. “You know what I mean. When you called and asked for your boxes, I was expecting to play delivery girl, not go out for an impromptu dinner. Please tell me you’re not doing this to avoid Klaus.”

“Hey,” Caroline protested as she gestured towards her food. “I’m hungry, and being hangry cannot improve this situation on any level.”

“Sure,” Bonnie drawled, “but there is no way you can convince me Klaus doesn’t have food in his house. I know how many calories werewolves consume in a day and it’s a lot.”

“He might have a house full of food, but there was nothing to eat.” Nothing she wanted. Not a single emergency bag of Doritos, no chocolate bars tucked away on a shelf, no decent cheese. The freezer hadn’t even contained a quart of emergency ice cream. She wanted to eat her feelings, and Bonnie was lucky she’d agreed to actual food instead of eating her weight in pie.

“Fine, I’ll give you that,” Bonnie allowed. “I’m not saying you owe him anything, but did you at least tell him you were going out?”

“Klaus,” Caroline said with false cheer. “Wasn’t there when I woke up, so I decided he didn’t get an opinion.”

Bonnie groaned and covered her eyes. “Haven’t you had enough rampaging werewolves today?”

“Eh,” Caroline said dismissively. “This morning was hardly a rampage, and you know it. Besides, torturing Tyler is absolutely a form of stress relief. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Probably. Bonnie was right, it would definitely piss him off that she’d left, and what she’d left him would not improve the situation. Dunking a fry into her pile of ketchup, she wrestled with the truth that she wasn’t in a mood yet to improve things.

I know a war when I see one.

Those words had haunted her as she’d fallen asleep, and had resonated in her chest when she’d woken. This felt like a war. Her own personal fight for something she wanted so badly she’d buried it under the ash and smoke of her temper, the scorched earth of her hurt. Wanted so badly and yet, no idea how to move past that anger.

Bonnie made a noise. “I knew we should have gone to Marcel’s.”

Her jaw clenched so hard, Caroline thought she could hear her teeth grinding. “No pack.”

“You can’t avoid them forever.” The words were said carefully, her best friend far too aware of that sore-point.

“Oh, I won’t,” Caroline said, flashing her teeth. “I really, really won’t.”

Thoughtfully, Bonnie relented enough to pick up her own fry. “What did Klaus tell you before he went off torture Tyler’s remains?”

Caroline shrugged. “He’s made changes, he’s the almighty ruler who rules with an iron fist, murder murder, the usual.”

I miss you.

She missed him.

Muttering something pithy, Bonnie pulled out a small bundle of herbs and dumped them on a convenient plate between them. A moment later, the familiar scent of burning sage brought a deluge of memories of ten years ago, and Caroline swallowed past the unexpected lump in her throat.

How often had she and Bonnie sat in this booth with sage burning between them, tipsy from cocktails? How many burgers had been consumed in the name of girl’s night? How often had she wished she could do this again as she sat alone in a random diner, eating pie and rapidly texting the second most important person in her life?

“Caroline,” Bonnie huffed. “You know people are straining to hear every word you say. People have been staring for the last ten minutes, there is no way the locals aren’t already gossiping.” Pointedly she glared at someone over Caroline’s shoulder.

“Nothing I said so far should be a surprise, they’ve all lived with his ego as long as I have.” Caroline said, emphasizing her words with the jab of a french fry.

Bonnie made a face in silent agreement. “I am absolutely not on team Klaus, but this separation hasn’t been easy for either of you.”

Caroline looked away for a moment, because she didn’t know how to explain the tangle in her chest, the way it’d felt like a fist when she’d woken alone in a bed that smelled just like her best dreams. Tired, bruises stiff and aching, she wanted him there and she was mad he wasn’t, and she was mad at herself for being mad about it. Showering had required that she clench her hands into fists not to sniff test everything in the shower, wanting his scent in her lungs.

“I know.” Her lips flattened. “I don’t know how to do easy anymore, Bonnie.”

“When have you ever?”

Caroline reluctantly smiled. “Klaus and I… we didn’t really have a lot of time to talk before he had to leave.” She would have been mad about that, that he’d disappeared so soon after the first time they’d seen each other in years, but she was firmly anti-zombie, so she had decided to be gracious about it. She just wasn’t sure what to do about the rest of it. What they had said. Their conversation had felt too personal, too raw to repeat out loud. “He wants me to stay.”

“Oh, he definitely wants more than that,” Bonnie muttered.

A03: Part 2

Please remember all my fanfic has been locked due to AI Bots scraping A03.

[theblueflower05]

Hi! can I request for an omega lo'ak x alpha reader where Y/n wants him to feel good and so he said "you can, by doing this..." where he place her hands on his manhood and started thrusting until he cums with of course lots of groaning and dirty talk.

I am salivating just thinking of this. I just think Lo'ak doesn't use his hands but uses his hips instead whenever he touches himself 🤤

The way that I simp over the thought of the Sully men as Omegas? It’s just? Not healthy at this point lol I am beyond obsessed.

Because like. The moment Omega Lo’ak realizes that you’re his? Oh, it’s on.

It takes a while to get there- his own self doubt sabotages your relationship. He can’t believe it. That you; an Alpha in her prime. A known hunter and expert ikran tamer, wants to be with him.

You tell him you don’t care. About his humanoid deformities or his reckless nature. You just want him.

Smut below the cut. NSFW.

After that it’s on. He’s all fucking over you. He wants you in his lap, or him in yours, at all times.

Lo’ak loves PDA and no one can tell me different.

It’s all; the two of you cuddled close, hand feeding each other meats and fruit at communal dinner and braiding each other’s hair and Lo’ak suckling on the scent gland on your neck at the most inappropriate of times.

BUT.

You still haven’t mated- he’s the son of the Olo’eyktan and Tsahik to be. He deserves a great ceremony and all of the Omiticayan courtship traditions.

He gets huffy with laughter and calls you old school.

You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder- it’s respectful, jerk!

It’s all fine and dandy and he’s gonna let you parade him around and give him presents because it does wonders for his ego-

But the fact that you won’t fuck him?

Oh. Yeah. That has caused many a fight.

“This is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard! I’m not even a virgin- and neither are you!” He’d argue, in whispered little hisses. His golden eyes pleading.

You just caress his cheeks, your small thin hands comforting “that’s not the point and you know it, yawne”

He does. You love him, truly. You’re not like the other girls he’d fucked, mindlessly. Desperate for a wet pussy and a tight knot. You want this to mean something, to mean everything.

He just rolls his eyes and wraps his big muscles arms around your slim frame, grumbling into your hair about the injustice of it all.

It’s not like you don’t give him anything. There’s kisses- so many kisses. All of the kisses. Everywhere. Til his mouth is raw, all over his neck and chest- he likes it when you kiss his cock the best. You grin up at him, all canines and amber eyes and worship his shaft in smooches. When you dip under- to get at swollen balls and hole- he always blows.

You touch him almost constantly. Hugs. Hand jobs. Fingering.

And it’s nice. It gets him off. Makes him come until his eyes roll and he screams himself hoarse.

It’s not enough.

You start to pick up on the face. It’s harder to get him to orgasm. Takes longer. He’s struggling to go over the edge-

“Baby” you whisper as you kiss all over his neck. The two of you are naked and sweaty- tucked away, high in the forest trees. On a thick branch. A perch. A hide out of sorts where you can be as loud as you’d like “tell me how to get you off. How to make you feel good”

He can hear the plea in your voice and he sighs. He’s not trying to be difficult, really. He’s not.

But his body needs more.

“I need to be inside of you” he urges and you let out a wounded whine.

That’s not fair.

He knows you want it too.

“Only four more eclipses til the ceremony, Lo. Then you can have my knot” you reassure him, kissing at his cheek and nuzzling it with your own “how else? Tell me what else you want”

He needs to fuck something. His hips twitch and his tender cock aches.

Your hand is already between his sticky thighs, playing with the furled hole between his cheeks-

He grabs it and slides it up until it’s cupping his manhood loosely, his cock in your grip.

You try to mice but he squeezes your wrist in warning “no just keep it there”

You nod, wanting to help him. “Wanna make you feel good”

“You can” he whispers, his breath hot and humid on your ear as he starts to thrust “by doing this”

His hips move- slow at first. A dirty grind. Just enjoying the clutch of your fingers. It’s by no means as wonderful as your pussy will be, but it will just have to do.

The minutes tick on and Lo’ak gets more desperate.

He’s a whining mess. His mouth open, panting out desperate sounds as he fucks your fist. His hips snapping, rhythmless as he looks for release.

“Mhmm, fuck my fist” you instruct him in that melodic voice of yours “does that feel good?”

Lo’ak can barley speak but musters words for you “fuck yeah it does”

“Yeah? You wish that was my pussy instead?” His eyes begin to roll at your vulgar words “wish my knot was squeezing you all tight- that you could shoot your load into my womb?”

Lo’ak shrieks when he comes. High pitched and needy and you eat it all up with a gluttonous chuckle.

Is it hot in here? Or is that just meeeeeee. Ugh.

Not to jinx it but life seems like it’s finally chilling out and I can get back to answering all my horny asks!

[grimesthinker]

for dialogue prompts how about "you’re working yourself too much" with Rick? It's a little vague but he needs some rest💔💔

this is MONTHS late but </333 not sure if you intended for this to be smut or fluff but i'm in a mood so it's just fluff all around. also this is barely a dialogue and i kind of ran with it anyway lol i luv rick enjoy

you can tell by the way he comes through the front door of your shared alexandria house, his tone clipped and his breath heavy. he'd been out all day, doing whatever it was that the community needed of him. his dark curls are damp from sweat, a few strands falling onto his forehead. you offer a soft smile as you wait for him. he doesn't even bother to take his boots off, and instead takes a seat on the sofa. he sighs and puts his arm over his eyes. you take a seat beside him, gently taking his hand and placing a kiss to his knuckles. he looks at you now, silently apologizing for coming in without greeting you like he normally did. he looks at you now, with your sweet eyes and rosy cheeks and he almost instantly forgets about any trouble he's had that day. any walkers, any arguments, any fights? they seem to melt away when he takes in the sight of you.

"you okay?" your voice is soft. exactly what he needs to hear. he nods, a hand on your jaw as he connects your lips for a moment.

"i'm alright, sweetheart. jus' tired."

"you work so hard, rick..." you trail off, rubbing his rough, calloused hand with your thumb. "can i help?"

"gettin' to sit here with you is enough, don't you think?" you adore the way his voice sounds. husky yet gentle. a southern twang that always makes you blush. you take it in. you've missed it.

"you're a good man, rick." you tell him and place a sweet kiss to his jaw. he does so much, not only for the community, but for you. when he first came to alexandria, you were scared. intimidated by him and his group. you always had safety in alexandria and never had to do the things he had to do to survive. he was skeptical about you too, of course. what could this young, doe eyed girl and him possibly have in common? you both grew close to each other though, and now you're thankful every day that aaron brought him there.

he grabs your arm as you you try to stand, an attempt to go fix him a plate of what you made for dinner. you smile softly, knowingly. you cuddle back up to his side. you both soon fall asleep on the sofa, and you're happy to be there for him, letting him take a break and rest for the first time in a while.

[letters-to-rosie]

another fic idea: the timebomb Howl's Moving Castle AU

Ekko's Moving Treehouse!

blatantly inspired by @redrum-alice's FANTASTIC artwork and developed in collaboration with @lullabyes22-blog, because I've been fawning over the art since it was posted and I just knew there had to be a way this could work because it was so cute and the potential just jumped off the page for me

(you've probably seen it but go look at it if you haven't it's so good)

me and Lullabyes have both read the book and seen the movie, so we combined a lot of ideas from both versions, and this is the result so far:

so Silco is the Witch of the Waste lol

Jinx's curse turns her eyes pink (and they stay that way, like Sophie's hair turning white!)

our girl is on a journey of ✨self-discovery✨ and to find her family. Silco does not understand why and just wants her to come home for dinner lol

instead of happening upon Ekko, Jinx goes looking for him because she heard there's a wizard wandering around who helps people

Ekko's castle is a treehouse, and the roots walk!

Jinx: "What a stupid way to treat a tree!" DX (a book line lol)

Jinx keeps arguing with the curse and it weirds Ekko out but she's just arguing with Silco lol

Ekko is a big grump because he gave his heart away to protect it after so much loss 😭

Jinx does not clean his house. she just redecorates. she draws on everything, including the Wall of the Fallen, and Ekko is thisssss close to strangling her at all times but he's promised to help

Jinx: "Ya gotta inject some levity into this narrative!" /casually breaks 4th wall

Silco's henchpeople keep showing up and Ekko fights them off but they're just trying to get Jinx to come back for dinner

Silco: "Discover? What are you discovering? Gold? Dinner's getting cold!"

at some point Jinx will have to cut up Ekko's clothes mwahaha

Ekko has the Slime Meltdown™ because Jinx breaks his hoverboard and he needs to be airborne and free or else there's no point in living

Heimerdinger is Madame Sullivan/Suliman, Ekko's old magic teacher who tells Jinx she's a witch like in the book 🪄

he even has the intro that makes him appear all spooky at first before his furball nature is revealed

maybe instead of giving life to things she animates machines???

they have a cute breakfast scene in Ekko's treehouse where Jinx eats real fruit the first time

Vi leaves a flare lit for Jinx all this time, and Ekko helps her find it

we didn't discuss this, but I think it would be interesting if Vi was Turnip Head, trying to communicate through Jinx throughout the story and maybe pushing her into situations that she doesn't really want (which has to do with how we're imagining the ending; Vander could also be Warwick instead and serve the same purpose???? wait I'm cooking here)

I also want Ajuna to be Michael/Markl lol

the end of the story sees Jinx decide to be true to herself; even though she knows that Silco and Vi both love her, she's gotta do her own thing

despite being super annoying lol she helps Ekko live in the moment and get his heart back, and they fall for each other and it's mushy as hell okay

"She's like very decorative lichen growing on his tree and he can't get rid of her, so by the story's end she's just become part of the natural treescape."

and at the end they keep traveling in the treehouse to see the world and help people and so Jinx can come into her witch powers

probably would be easy to insert all the war themes

Jinx coming into her own and being cute, Ekko learning to love again after this woman just barges into his life, family themes, romance, what more could we want???

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

9 Days of Lancaster Training

It was eerie, camping in the town square. By their very nature search and rescue operations don’t try and hide at all, can’t, even. It set my teeth on edge, but it was necessary.

“We’ll be training a little too, but we’ll try and keep it down.” I let Ren know. He was scrapping some dinner together and some other meals. We'd found perishables that the bandits hadn’t bothered to take and would literally rot if we didn’t eat them.

Ruby had wondered if that made us better than the bandits but together the three of us convinced her otherwise.

From, “you can’t give it to anyone.”

To, “you can’t save it for later.”

And fervently, “all this in all these empty houses will be rat food if we don’t eat it now.”

She gave in but didn’t eat much.

She was stressed, they all were. Especially considering how far we just got set back in terms of our travel time. Money really wasn’t an issue. Huntsmen could make a living anywhere and with communication down…

With communication down the law of the land in most places was whatever the guy with the most fighting power said it was. Who were you going to call and how were you going to call them and what would they do by the time they finally arrived to do something, if they ever came at all?

Huntsmen will have even fewer problems making money anywhere. Perhaps too few.

I set another log on the campfire. There was a flare of sparks and the fire snapped a few times at me. I stared at them like the patterns they made would reveal something to me but there was nothing at all.

Nora was already turned away from the dim light in her sleeping bag. Ren being emotional had evidently exhausted her beyond her energy.

Ruby had found a clearing she liked as we’d set up camp and I followed her there now from the campsite. I hadn’t bothered to take my armor off at any point. I needed to get used to it and I’d do it by wearing it sixteen hours a day, more, probably.

“You’ll probably need a whole new fighting style, I mean, have you ever practiced with a broadsword?” She chatted as we walked.

“I haven’t but a sword is a sword.” What’s so hard to understand about swish-swish-stab? A lot, to be honest. “I’ll be able to figure it out.”

���I know some of my uncle’s moves.” Ruby continued. “Would they help?”

“I’m bad enough that they literally couldn’t make me worse.”

She looked like she wanted to hit me for that but couldn’t because she was about to hit me anyway.

I stared at her from the side, watching her pink lips move out of the corner of my eyes. She reached up while she was talking and brushed her short red and black hair over her ear with one hand.

She was building up contained excitement like a diesel engine getting warmed up and I had to smile. Once she started talking it released like a wave and I found myself nodding and listening along as she carried on the better part of three conversations at once.

 “A lot of his moves are horizontal, it’s hard to swing a sword that big upwards. The ground gets in the way. His most powerful attacks are usually ones that come downwards, though, using gravity. His weapon is different, you know?” I did, I was confident she’d told me, at least. I’d hear it again, though. "It’s a broadsword with a similar scale to yours but also turns into a scythe, and, unlike yours, it has a gun too.” She looked at me to make sure I was listening. I was entranced with her lecture.

"It’s actually a lot more complicated than yours but you’ve always been simple," she continued.

I agreed so, I nodded.

“I don’t mean simple like that. I mean simple like- well, you know.”

I did, so I nodded.

“But every person is like that, everybody is unique.”

“-what?”

 “Weapon!” She corrected herself a tad-little loud. “Every weapon is like that.” She glanced at me.

She dared me to call her out.

I couldn’t possibly.

“I really don’t know much about fight with shields, though, I’m sorry I won’t be more help. But like I said, swing downwards instead of upwards and it’ll help.”

I grimaced. If I swung the broadsword down, I’d need to lift it up again. It seemed obvious but the thing was heavy now. I’d need to do it as little as possible to conserve energy.

I watched her spin away from me into the clearing.

It took me a second to realize she was waiting for me and I stepped opposite her and drew the broadsword from my back.

Ruby’s scythe extended and she reversed her grip on it, holding the weapon behind her back. I didn’t think for one second it was an opening. I couldn’t cross the distance between us before she would move.

Still, I knew if she were willing to spend ammunition on a sparring match, then I would be the one forced to approach. In the spirit of that I charged at her anyway.

I committed to an attack with Crocea Mors, swinging from my shoulder down at her. She danced out of the way, her footwork was tight and fast. She was able to stay just out of my range, dipping in to slice across my breastplate with her scythe before I could bring my weapon around again.

It was enough to buffet it and I was encouraged further to back up when she rolled the scythe around her body in an upwards diagonal arc.

It wasn’t where I wanted to be, backing up was so much worse than side stepping. On the back-foot your opponent could charge and stand and fight you.

Pyrrha had hammered that into me none-too gently. Sometimes she used her shield as the hammer.

Sometimes she hadn’t.

Ruby stepped with me, staying inside where I would feel comfortable with the sword.

I lashed out with my foot in a clumsy kick, balancing the sword’s weight with my own mass and all my armor on just one leg with little practice. The kick flat out missed and Ruby had the good grace not to laugh. She did catch the leg I was left standing on with her scythe and yank me off my feet.

I felt myself whirl through the air and land flat on my back.

“Sorry Jaune.” She smiled down at me sheepishly. I couldn't be mad at that.

I got to my feet shaking my head. “I’ll get over it. I’m not afraid of looking like an idiot.” I leveled the broadsword at her. “I still have plenty of aura for you to beat out of me.”

She took that as a sign to continue and this time she rushed me.

I sidestepped lashing out with Crocea Mors into the space I had just occupied. It collided with Crescent Rose’s barrel with a heavy metallic clank. The weight was enough to stop Ruby’s momentum and she squealed adorably as she strained against it and the noise she made was enough to distract me a little.

She retreated spinning the crescent behind her, before she reversed again, rotating once more towards me in whirlwind of red and steel.

“How are you not getting dizzy?” I implored.

She giggled at me for that like I was just being just so extra silly when I truly did want answers. It sometimes felt like I could barely stand up without my head spinning and here she was like a top.

I raised Crocea Mors and blocked the blade of Ruby’s scythe with a grunt. I turned my wrists to block her next attack when she came around the other side.

I like to say my efforts impeded her but really she just hit me three times anyway.

Her blade swept across my stomach, glancing off my armor. I threw out Crocea Mors to try and gain some space, but she simply stepped back then back in and hit me hard in the side of the head with the back of Crescent Rose.

I stumbled back but she was all over me sweeping her blade towards me and chipping away at my aura. I grunted lowering Crocea Mors to defend once again. I blocked then thrust my blade out and swung it upward, Ruby easily dodged the thrust but wasn’t ready for me to continue my assault. I rushed forward. She jumped, elegantly dodging the attack with her semblance and a flare of red petals.

She flowed to my right like water before she zipped to the left with vanishing speed and seemed to hit me from behind as her scythe extended to a nearly impossible range. She threw me off balance. Her scythe was a spinning blade of death that sunk deep into my aura, shredding away chunks of it. I stepped back like I was going to retreat but I whipped the blade out and I clipped her side.

She rolled with the attack to the ground to avoid me chasing her, but I had stopped.

The sword made a meaty noise when it hit her, it was the first time I’d hit anybody or anything with it and I immediately regretted how hard I had swung it and that its first target was Ruby besides.

We were just training, and it wasn’t like she was out here swinging to hurt me. I winced slightly. She looked a little winded. Her hand dropped down a little. I shouldn’t just be throwing out haymakers at her.

Duh, Jaune, what a way to say thank you.

Her body shimmered with soft red light as she recovered, getting to her feet. I let her rise unassailed; in a real fight I’d be all over her; I wasn’t above hitting someone while they were down, after all, the world had no problems doing it to me, but this was just training.

“Are you alright?" I asked, my eyes roved her body, looking for any sign of injury. Her hand rose from where I had hit her, and she nodded.

I was sure Ruby could go toe to toe with nearly anyone, I’d seen her fight Yang and Pyrrha. But my sword weighed as much as either of them did, soaking wet in full gear. And unlike a potential Yang based weapon, Crocea Mors had all of that force condensed into a tight blade.

Ruby’s own weapon was spindly in comparison and for a moment I wasn’t totally sure that I wouldn’t crack her barrel in half if I came down really hard on it.

“I’m fine. That hurt, though, you’ve gotten stronger.”

“It's the new sword, it’s heavier,” I dismissed. “It’s easy to hit things hard with a giant sheet of metal.”

“Well, I’m sure that's true, too.”

I continued to look her over. I was thinking about her hit and run fighting style.

That old big kicker-why?

Why did she bother retreating when she was so strong? It wasn’t just a fighting style preference. I was beginning to suspect that she needed to. She needed to dodge rather than block and she couldn’t afford to tank hits like I could.

She wasn’t weak - it was impossible to think that, really. It was honestly weird to think about her as fragile, too, even with the evidence right in my face.

“How am I doing so far,” I managed between pants.

I decided I would give her a moment to catch her breath, if she needed it. It looked like I had knocked the wind out of her, even through her Aura.

“You need to move more, you stand too still.” It was familiar advice, and it brought me back to rooftop training sessions with another redhead. I changed tracks, not wanting to think about Pyrrha right now.

Thinking about Pyrrha only made me want to train. I wanted to train and fight until I was strong enough to kill Cinder.

It was fucking bullshit that Cinder got to walk around while I didn’t even get to bury Pyrrha. I shook my head, thoughts of revenge clearing. I had a long way to go until I could hold a candle to the woman who killed my partner.

Besides I was training now, I couldn’t be more training than I currently was.

“Well it’s hard to keep up with you in terms of movement,” I deflected but made it clear I agreed. Standing rooted like a tree would only serve to cost me precious aura. Plus, now I had two sources telling me to get my ass in gear and move around the battlefield. Not that I’d ever ignored Pyrrha’s advice but sometimes lessons took a while to stick.

We started again.

I slashed two wide arcs at Ruby, and she ducked under one and deflected the other. The large sword wasn’t cutting it for me right now, but the point was to train with the new form. My movements were telegraphed with the broadsword, much more so than with the bastard sword and the shield would also allow me to defend myself from her wild slashes better, but the point of training right now was to learn how to use the new length to my advantage. It was not necessarily to use the best weapon for the situation.

She hit me twice with Crescent Rose before I felt the blade swing around me. She traded places with it, swinging me and herself in a sort of orbit connected by her weapon. She brought me around in a wide arc before she used a tree to halt her moment and mine. I could only watch as Ruby effectively pulled the blade towards her and through my aura.

It clotheslined me hard into the ground and made a loud gonging noise as it her blade dinged off my freshly polished armor. I lay there on the ground with my chest flashed with soft golden light as my aura flickered. Ruby seemed to realize that I’d had enough and stepped back, folding her scythe behind her back as she did.

I tried to rub my chest through my armor for a moment before managing to puzzle together that it wasn’t helping. Even through the protection granted by my soul and armor it was enough to sting.

I sat up and just tried to focus on breathing.

Ruby sat down next to me. Plopping down in her skirt with practiced ease.

“Was it really okay to re-forge Pyrrha’s weapons like that?” Ruby asked. “I know I sort of talked you into this. I didn’t mean to make you do something you might regret.”

I understood the sentiment immediately, but this felt right.

“Her sword was in pieces and it would only have served as a reminder that she wasn’t actually invincible,” I began. It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about it. “And I’m sure that she would be fine with me using her shield to defend myself, too. And you know there’s going to be something satisfying about killing Cinder with a weapon reinforced with the one she broke.” I chuckled lightly at the morose thought.

“Well, I guess it’s okay, then?” She struggled to find something to say after that. “I’m sure you’re right.”

We sat quietly together in the forest lit by moonlight. It wasn’t a full moon, like the night before, but still plenty bright.

“Jaune…” She trailed off.

“Yeah?” I answered anyway, ignoring her hesitation.

“About Pyrrha…” She pressed on.

“What about her?” I could talk about her, with Ruby of all people, at least. I didn’t particularly want to, but I would.

“Did you and her ever…”

“No, we didn’t. I didn’t know until it was too late.”

“Oh.”

I realized my fingers were brushing my lips. The rough material of my gauntlets was nothing like Pyrrha’s lips and my fingers tasted like sweat and grime.

So soft.

I remembered the way she’d kissed me before she left. It had been desperate but with a certain finality. She’d known she was sending her valedictions to me at the time.

I’d known too.

“She was a really good friend...”

“The best.” I agreed readily. I wasn’t sure where she was going with this.

“Would you have?” She grimaced looking pained. “Sorry.”

“I don’t know. Alright? I really have no idea. I don’t get to know.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Ruby slipped into silence and I watched her fight herself again for a long minute. “But she wouldn’t want you fighting Cinder.”

“Well of course not.” Hell, the last thing she’d done was push me into a locker and not give me the choice of dying with her. Which I wasn’t bitter about at all. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. So, I’m still going to.”

“But…” She trailed. Her concern was like a fire, it flickered out towards me but there was nothing for it to catch onto. I was already burnt down inside.

“Hey look.” I pulled my sword over to where we sat. “You wanted to see how the mechanism works, right?” Anything for a change in subject, literally anything. It was weak but Ruby seemed to understand.

She just nodded and listened while I went over the weapon with her. I could tell that she remembered how the mechanism worked part of the way through his explanation, she’d helped design it, after all. She just needed the refresher, but that was it.

I explained all of it anyway.

[superbattrash]

Say My Name (Like You Enjoy The Taste of It)

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Vinsmoke Black Leg Sanji 

Summary: Zoro likes the banter thing he's got going on with Cook. It's fun, it's natural and it's- suddenly gone, because for some reason Cook won't even look at him these days. It can't really have something to do with that whole "Try calling my name sweetly" thing Cook was going on about, can it?

A/N: for @princesskazuya. Thanks for encouraging me, my love :3 I had lots of fun writing this; it definitively won’t be the last time I write my boys ~  

"Oi, shitty cook," Zoro calls when his glass (who's he kidding, he doesn't use the glass Cook sets out for him; why bother, when he's going to drink the entire bottle anyway?) is empty. He needs more sake. Cook knows which bottles are good and which are strictly off limits or whatever he usually says. Zoro doesn't really listen. It’s easier to just avoid the boot coming at his head if he picks up the wrong bottle.

"I told you to stop calling me that," Cook snaps and then turns back to making weird eyes at Robin. "Try calling my name sweetly and maybe I'll listen, shitty swordsman."

It’s his usual spew and Zoro merely rolls his eyes and walks into the kitchen himself. It’s not like he’s the only one refusing to use Cook’s name; he can’t remember a time Cook ever called him Zoro, much less Roronoa. It doesn’t take Cook ten seconds before he’s rushed in behind him, yelling something about keeping his clumsy hands off the wine Cook is saving for his precious Nami-swan and Robin-chan. As if Zoro is the one with clumsy hands – he wouldn’t survive two days with his swords if he didn’t have perfect precision.

That should’ve been that. It’s always just that. This is how they communicate. Cook says something stupid, Zoro doesn’t listen, Cook gets angry, they either fight or Zoro gets drunk. It’s a nice, comfortable routine. They’ll repeat it again tomorrow and the day after, just like they always do.

Except it doesn’t go like that.

Because suddenly Cook doesn’t react to any damn thing Zoro tells him, let alone when he calls him. It takes Zoro about two days to realize it, which in hindsight is too slow a reaction for a swordsman, but he’ll use the excuse that this is Cook, damn it, it’s not like Zoro is keeping a watch on the guy every second of every day.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a genuine question: “Oi, Cook, when’s dinner?” or the usual banter, Zoro has grown so accustomed to over the past few months: “You wanna fight, shitty cook?!” There’s no reaction. And while Zoro can brush it off for a day or two – he’s not a child, he can take a hint and leave Cook alone for a bit – he’s starting to grow uncomfortable when a week’s gone by, and they haven’t had a single fight. Or conversation, for that matter.

He can’t seriously be this upset over a damn name? Zoro has never called him by his name, why is it suddenly an issue? You don’t see Zoro throwing a tantrum every time he’s called swordsman by Robin. He doesn’t even flinch when Cook usually calls him Marimo, no matter how stupid the nickname is.

By the seventh day he’s growing somewhat antsy. They haven’t seen land for a while, which is probably why it even bothers him in the first place. He tries asking Nami about it but she’s as helpful as ever.

“Have you, I don’t know, considered just calling him by his name instead of being a little shit?” She asks, voice all sugary sweet, like she’s making an actual helpful suggestion and not just making fun of him.

“Why should I?” Zoro grunts. “He never calls my name.”

“He calls you Zoro all the time,” Nami says.

“Not to my face, he doesn’t.” Zoro knows Cook has to talk about him sometimes, what with how often they got separated whenever something exciting happens – which Zoro will admit is quite often – but he’s never once heard him say his name. Which is fine, it doesn’t matter. It’s just a name. Zoro knows who he is, and he knows who Cook is.

“Well, at least he says it unlike someone else,” Nami says with a judgmental look. Rich coming from someone who’s never given any thought to Robin only ever calling her Navigator for the first month she knew them. “I’m not even sure you know what his name is.”

“Of course, I do. You don’t think I know my own crewmate’s name?” Zoro is starting to get pissed off. Is there anyone on this damn ship who knows him at all? He knows Cook’s name; he just doesn’t need to use it. He respects Cook, somewhat, and that should be enough.

“Oh, so he’s your crewmate now? I thought he was just the shitty cook.”

Zoro huffs and then leaves Nami to whatever it is she’s so busy doing that she can’t give him a useful answer. As he said. Helpful as ever. He considers asking Robin – she’s usually more insightful anyway – but he still has a hard time figuring her out. Besides, Cook is sticking awfully close to her these days and while Zoro wants him to stop being pissy, he does not want to talk about this in front of him like he’s not there. Zoro may not always look it, but he was raised better than to talk about someone right in front of them.

Luckily – he thinks at least – for Zoro he doesn’t actually have to go to Robin because she finds him on the eighth day of her own accord. He’s a little wary when she approaches him on the top deck. He’s training with the barbell because he can’t go in the damn kitchen, and he’s got this irritating itch underneath his skin.

It’s not like he doesn’t trust Robin; they saved her for a reason, after all, and she’s been very helpful. She’s a member of the crew and Zoro trusts her like he trusts the others. She’s just- there’s something all-knowing about her and it makes Zoro feel… a little inadequate. Not that he’s about to tell her that, or anyone else for that matter. Which is also why he doesn’t stop his training until he’s actually done.

He sets his barbell down and turns to Robin. She’s leaning against the railing comfortably; she’s nice enough to wait for him to finish before talking. Unlike every other person on this damn ship. Zoro really needs to set foot on land soon, he’s getting irritable at nothing.

“We’ll reach land before nightfall,” she tells him conversationally.

“Yeah,” Zoro says. He heard Usopp earlier too.

“Would you like to get a drink with me when we get there?” Robin asks with a soft smile. It seems genuine enough.

“A drink?” Zoro says with a frown. “Sure, if you think you’re up for it.”

“Someone has to make sure you don’t get lost again, little swordsman,” she teases.

Zoro grits his teeth at the jab, but she looks so relaxed that he can’t really be mad at her. Besides, Robin’s never wanted to spend any time with him one-on-one before. Maybe she’s finally coming out of her shell. And – the most important part of this entire endeavor – since she asked, she’s the one buying.

Zoro grins.

“I’ll be in your care then,” he says.

Robin looks a little surprised at his response but only for a second, then she’s back to her soft smile and all-knowing eyes. She nods at him and then she’s walking away.

“You miscounted,” she says when she’s halfway down the stairs. Zoro still hears her clearly. “You skipped one thousand nine hundred and eighty-three.”

Zoro very nearly throws the barbell after her. As if he’d ever miscount like that.

He starts over anyway. Just in case.

Usopp’s predictions are – as they nearly always are when he teams up with Nami – holding up; the sun hasn’t set when they dock at one of the biggest islands in the small cluster they’ve come upon. It’s not much more than a handful of smaller towns, surrounding a larger one, but the larger one has three separate bars which is more than enough for Zoro to find a place where nobody screams ‘Pirates!’ at him.

He doesn’t want to admit it but it’s mostly thanks to Robin that they find a suitable place to drink fast. She seems to know her way around any and all towns they dock at, despite her claiming she’s never been here before. It’s that all-knowing thing again.

It’s also thanks to Robin that Zoro is even allowed off the ship in the first place which is both insulting and rude. Like he can get lost less than a mile from the ship; he’s not a child. Usopp is busy with repairs and Cook dragged Chopper off before anyone got to them; Nami is making sure Luffy doesn’t get them into trouble which leaves Robin and Zoro free to roam the town without worries. It’s not like they have a curfew, but it’s nice to know everybody is safe.

Robin, it turns out, is a solid drinker. She’s not Nami but Zoro is kind of thankful for that; he doesn’t need someone to outdrink him, he’s just happy with the company. And Robin loosens up after a few drinks which is nice, although she does start to talk. A lot. It’s not bad, just different. She smiles more too, which Zoro finds makes him smile more in turn. She’s easy to hang around when she’s not hiding anything or running from people. Well, running alone, that is. They’re still pirates, after all.

She does, however, very quickly turn the conversation in a direction Zoro was hoping she wouldn’t. She’s clever like that; Zoro barely notices before she’s dragged him into the discussion. He’s not here to think about Cook; he’s here to drink so he doesn’t think about Cook.

“You could just call him Sanji like the rest of us,” Robin tells him, as if it’s just that easy.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Zoro shoots back in leu of an honest answer. He’s on his fifth beer and he does not want to get into this. Why does Robin care anyway? Why does anyone? Why does Cook?

“The fun,” Robin says as she glares at him. “Is that I don’t have to listen to Sanji complain about you all day and in turn watch you glare at his back like you can set him on fire with your eyes.”

“I don’t-”

“And,” she barrels on. “I would like to see his face when you do it.”

“Why?” Zoro asks with a frown. Granted, Cook does have an entire array of fun expressions (Zoro’s favorite is when his mouth hangs open in horror and his eyebrows knit close together, when he’s all speechless and his cheeks flush bright red in anger), but Zoro’s never thought of Robin as someone who would enjoy watching a spectacle between crew mates. And more importantly, there’s no way Cook will show any kind of entertaining expression just from hearing Zoro call his damn name. Maybe slight disgust or that superior smirk he sometimes shows, but nothing worthy of an audience.

“It’ll be fun,” Robin says easily.

“I really don’t understand you,” Zoro says with a sigh. It’s not necessarily a bad thing; he doesn’t have to understand someone completely to enjoy their company. And he does enjoy Robin’s company. It’s a little surprising but not unpleasant to realize.

“You don’t have to. You just have to trust me.”

“I do,” he says honestly.

“I know.” Robin smiles at him and takes another sip of her beer. She’s keeping up with his drinking nicely. “So?”

“So?”

“Will you do the entire crew a favor and make peace with our beloved cook?” While her tone is mostly teasing, Zoro can tell there’s a seriousness hidden underneath, like there often is with Robin.

“I don’t even know where to begin.” He shrugs even as he feels the weight of his own words on his shoulders. He’s not even sure he should begin. He’s not sure he’s done anything wrong. “He won’t talk to me, remember?”

“I’m pretty sure you know what he wants you to do.”

“Call him by his name, right?” Zoro clicks his tongue. “Shitty cook, I don’t understand him either.”

Robin finishes her beer with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Try it with me,” she says.

“Huh?”

“Try calling my name,” she tells him again, like it’s really that easy. Like that’s all this is about. It can’t be. Right?

“Why?” Zoro asks. It’s not like he can’t say Cook’s name; he knows his name, just like he knows Robin’s and like he knows Luffy’s. Just like he knows everybody’s names. He just- huh. Well, it’s true that he calls the others by their names but it’s not like it’s on purpose. He doesn’t argue with the others, not like he does with Cook. They don’t set his blood on fire; they don’t make him feel like he’s losing control; they don’t… they’re not Cook.

“Because I asked you to,” Robin says, a hint of impatience in her voice. “Come on, say my name.”

“Robin,” Zoro says easily. It’s her name, it’s all he’s ever called her. Almost, anyway. And she did ask nicely, unlike that curly browed bastard.

“Oh that is so not cute.” Robin makes a face and then gestures to the barkeep. They need more drinks for this, even she can see that. “Try again.”

“C- who said I wanna be cute?!” Zoro splutters. He’s not going for cute! He just wants Cook to stop being a dramatic piece of shit and go back to normal.

“Do you want Sanji to speak to you again or not?”

“Tch,” Zoro grits his teeth. “Fine. Robin.” He prolongs the n with an eight of a second and even that makes his tongue curl awkwardly on his mouth.

“No, no, cuter. Like this, Zoro-kun~”

Zoro almost rears back at the sugary sweetness of Robin’s voice. That is absolutely not how she usually calls him. Or anyone for that matter.

“Robin-san,” he tries and immediately feels his stomach turn. God, this is awful. Who talks like this? It’s one thing to be polite but this? Zoro wants to stick his head through the wall. He’s thankful for the beer that’s put in front of him; he downs it in one go and asks for another.

“Almost there,” Robin says, clearly grinning at him now. “Don’t get embarrassed now, swordsman, that isn’t fit for someone with a dream as big as yours. Do you think Hawkeye is above being kind?”

“Yeah,” Zoro says honestly. But then he frowns because no, that’s not quite right. Mihawk may not be kind, but he isn’t cruel either. He’s fair.

“I see the wheels turning,” Robin comments. “So? Do you want my help or not?”

“I want your help.” Robin raises an elegant brow at him. “Please,” he adds.

It’s not like he can explain it very well but having Cook ignore him is irritating. Infuriating, really. Especially since the bastard treats everybody the same as always. Zoro doesn’t expect them to be best friends - he’s got Luffy for that already and Cook enjoys spending time with Nami and Robin to him any day and that’s fine - but he needs their usual banter. He’s stronger because of it, because of Cook.

“Then try again, Zoro-kun,” Robin says.

Zoro is hopeless. At least that’s what Robin’s face is telling him. He goes through seven more beers before she lets up and even then it’s only because he finally forces out a “Robin-chan” that’s somewhat sweet enough for her taste. Zoro nearly gurgles his next beer to get it out of his mouth.

This is so not who he is.

“Names are important,” Robin says quietly. “For some people it’s all they have, Roronoa.”

Zoro can’t remember the last time anyone called him by his first name. Which is probably why he feels his heart skip a beat. He swallows thickly. The last time someone called him by his name… It was probably Mihawk back on Cook’s restaurant. Before that… well. Nobody’s used his name like that. God, it’s been long, hasn’t it?

“There’s no way he’ll be satisfied with that,” Zoro grunts into his twentieth? Twenty-fifth? Into his newly filled beer. Robin is chuckling at him; she’s getting drunk too, thank God, there’s no way he would survive the humiliation otherwise.

“He just wants you to acknowledge him,” Robin tells him like it’s a big secret. “Spend some time with him, compliment him. His cooking at least, I know you enjoy that.”

“Of course, I do,” Zoro huffs. Cook’s food is the best he’s ever tasted, and he always makes sure to make Zoro’s favorites.

“You ever tell him that?”

“He’s never asked!”

“It’s not really something you ask for, Zoro-kun,” Robin says with a laugh. She’s really milking the name thing now. “Do you ever ask for compliments?”

“I don’t need ‘em,” he says, trying not to smirk. He knows he’s great, he doesn’t need anyone to tell him. He’s going to be the world’s greatest swordsman; he can’t rely on something as frivolous as compliments from others.

“Well, maybe Sanji does. Don’t you want him to be happy?”

Zoro frowns. He’s never thought of that. Of course, he wants everyone in the crew to be happy, Cook included. But that’s just how a crew is, isn’t it? It’s not like he’s going out of his way to make anyone else happy.

“He’s… unhappy?” Zoro finds himself asking quietly. He makes Cook unhappy? Angry, sure, irritated, absolutely, but unhappy? That’s not what their banter is about. That’s not why he talks the way he does. That’s not what he wants.

What does he want?

“I’m sure he’ll be alright if you just give him what he wants,” Robin tells him.

Zoro frowns. What is it that Cook wants? What does he really want from Zoro? He refuses to believe this is about that stupid name. There has to be something else, something more. If only Cook would talk to him. Zoro slams his empty glass against the counter a little too hard, but Robin doesn’t comment on it. She’s good at reading him; it’s frustrating in other aspects but he’s grateful for it now.

Especially since the next set of feet through the door belong to a certain curly browed cook.

“There you are,” Cook says, and Zoro nearly whips around to face him. Until he realizes that he’s talking to Robin. Of course. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I’m just having a few drinks with my favorite swordsman,” Robin says.

Cook makes a noise that Zoro can’t quite categorize. It’s not a positive noise though. He’s not usually annoyed with Robin, so it seems odd that he’d let her hear such a thing. Zoro glances at them out of the corner of his eye. Should he say something now?

“I can see that,” Cook says then. He nearly catches Zoro’s eye but then he’s staring very determinedly at Robin. “Come on, Robin-chan, it’s getting late. Why don’t I walk you back to the ship?”

“Oh, don’t mind me, I can get back on my own. It’s Zoro who could use a hand.”

Cook grits his teeth. “There’s no reason to help a drunkard who’ll just get lost anyway.”

“It’s because he’ll get lost that he needs your help,” Robin says. “Isn’t that right, Zoro-kun?”

“I could go for another drink,” Zoro says. There’s no way he’ll actively ask for help. Despite what they all think of him, he knows how to get back to the ship. Probably.

“See?” Cook sneers.

Robin sends Zoro a look.

“You could join me,” he then adds.

Cook looks at him like he’s suddenly grown another head. Or like he’s lost his mind. Either would probably be better than being on the receiving end of this particular look. Zoro tries not to let it show how uncomfortable he is. At least Cook is looking at him.

“Sharing a drink might help,” Robin chimes in helpfully. Teasingly? Zoro honestly isn’t sure what she’s going for here. “You could talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” is Cook’s quick reply. He’s already turned his back on Zoro again.

It makes Zoro’s chest feel tight. This is so stupid. There’s no reason he should get on his knees and beg for Cook to forgive him when he hasn’t even done anything wrong. Cook is being dramatic, and it shouldn't be Zoro's responsibility to fix something that wasn’t even broken in the first place.

But then he remembers Robin talking about Cook being unhappy… It makes him ache in a way he hasn’t in years. He doesn’t like it. He grinds his teeth together and stares at his half-empty beer. He knows what he’s supposed to do; he knows what Cook wants from him. If there’s anything more to this, Cook will have to tell him directly. But the only way to get him to do that is to call his name.

He catches Robin’s eyes, and she tilts her head at him.

Right. Names are important to some people.

“Sanji-kun,” Zoro calls softly. It feels odd on his tongue.

The reaction is instantaneous. Cook’s back straightens impossible fast, and he turns to look at Zoro with something a little like horror on his face. Oh, no. Not horror. Is that a blush on his face? His eyes are huge and- have they always been so pretty?

Zoro shakes his head. That’s not a thought he’s used to. He knows Cook is pretty, he’s not blind. Or deaf. He heard the whispers whenever they go through crowded places.

“W-what did you say?” Cook – Sanji – asks.

“Sanji-kun,” Zoro repeats, keeping his voice light just like he’s practiced with Robin. He doesn’t want to swallow his own tongue at least, that has to count as progress. It might just be the alcohol talking though. “Won’t you have a drink with me?”

“You-”

“You can’t say no when he asks so nicely, can you, Sanji-kun?” Robin grins at them both. “I’ll go back first; you have fun now.”

“Wait-” Cook tries but she’s already out the door, leaving them alone together at the bar. He looks awkward standing there with his hand stretched towards the door.

Zoro expects him to leave. He doesn’t look happy to hear his name from Zoro’s lips; not that he’d expected him to immediately go back to normal, but then what else is there for Zoro to do? He’s done what Cook asked of him.

Then Cook plops down in the chair next to him with a deep sigh.

“I want wine,” he says grumpily.

“Okay.” Zoro doesn’t say anything else for a while, even after Cook’s wine arrives and he start swirling it around as if in deep thought. He still looks uncomfortable. Then Zoro remembers Robin’s words: show an interest, acknowledge him.

“What did you do today?” He asks.

“Are you drunk?” Cook frowns but at least he’s looking at him and he doesn’t look angry.

“Maybe a little.” Zoro shrugs. “Doesn’t change my question though. What did you do today?”

And despite his confused expression Cook answers. He’s dragged Chopper to any and all meat stores because Luffy needs his meat. He’s found a particular spice he’s been looking for; something both he and Chopper can use although Zoro suspects that might just be Cook trying to convince himself he’s allowed to buy it. If Zoro can see it, then Chopper absolutely can as well. He’s probably encouraged Cook to buy the spice by saying he could use it for some medicine or other.

Cook drinks his wine slowly while he talks. When his glass is empty, he doesn’t argue as Zoro orders him another. And he keeps talking, moving naturally along in the conversation. Zoro listens attentively the entire time, making sure to ask small questions or hum so Cook knows he’s listening.

Ah, the ache in his body is gone. Zoro could listen to Cook talk all day. He’s missed this. He doesn’t care if Cook yells at him or tells him about his day: as long as he keeps talking.

It’s late by the time they leave the bar; far later than they should have probably stayed out but Zoro doesn’t mind. He follows obediently along when Cook threatens him to not get lost on the way back.

There is still something nagging him though.

“Sanji-” Zoro starts and then nearly collides with Cook’s back when he suddenly stops walking.

“Okay, no, stop,” Cook says. There’s a nice pink tint to his cheeks again, although it may be from the wine he’s been drinking.

“What?”

“Stop calling me- stop saying my name.”

“I thought you wanted me to call you S-”

“No,” Cook interrupts, shoving his hands over Zoro’s mouth. “Not anymore, it’s fine, you did good, thank you. Now stop.”

Zoro tilts his head to the side slightly. Huh. This is interesting. “You don’t like it?” He asks, voice slightly muffled by Cook’s hands. He removes them awfully fast when Zoro starts talking.

“No, no, it’s- you’re good, it’s just- it’s not you,” Cook stumbles over his words. They don’t make any sense to begin with.

“Excuse me?” Zoro asks, eyebrows high on his face.

“That’s not how you call me,” Cook tells him, arms waving around in the air like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. “That- this isn’t how we are.”

“How are we then?”

“Shitty cook,” Cook does an impressive impersonation of Zoro’s voice, scowling while he speaks. “And shitty Marimo. That’s who we are.”

“Why make such a big deal about it then?” Zoro asks, genuinely curious. “If you don’t want me to call you-” Once again Cook throws a hand in front of his mouth. Zoro grabs it and wrestles it away. He keeps a tight hold on it to make sure he doesn’t try it again. “I wasn’t gonna say it, dumbass.”

“See? That’s how you talk to me,” Cook says, ignoring Zoro’s question. Huh. He seems nervous too, although it could just be Zoro’s imagination. It’s not like he’s an expert in any and all things Cook.

He kind of wants to be though.

“You didn’t respond to my usual way,” he says instead of calling Cook out for avoiding his question. He’s got time; he’ll make Cook answer before long.

“Alright, I’m sorry for that, so let’s just go back to normal,” Cook says as he pulls his hand from Zoro’s grip.

Zoro’s hand feels oddly empty. When Cook starts walking again, Zoro narrows his eyes and doesn’t follow along. He wants normal but he doesn’t want to repeat this entire thing in two days or whenever Cook gets upset again. It’s too easy to just sweep it under the rug. Besides he’s been suffering for an entire week. Cook gets to be uncomfortable for a few hours and then forget about this? That’s not fair.

“No,” he says.

“What?” Cook turns around with a frown. He clearly expects Zoro to just pretend like the past week never happened, but he still hasn’t explained anything. He’s even changed his mind about the name thing and it’s frustrating but more than that, it’s confusing.

“I said no,” Zoro repeats. He’s not trying to be difficult – not really, not any more than he usually is – but he needs Cook to actually talk to him. Or at the very least be as uncomfortable and confused as Zoro’s been this week. It’s not about revenge, he tells himself, but there’s a small part of his brain that’s screaming at him to not let Cook get away this easily. He shoves it down, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

It’s not just about getting even though. There’s something Cook has yet to do, has yet to acknowledge. Which is why Zoro can’t help but tease him a little. It’s how they communicate; provocation is a glorious tool.

“I think an apology is due,” he tells him and then starts walking. It’s not hard to follow the only path out of the city but Zoro can see the momentary panic in Cook’s eyes when he catches up to him. Like he’s afraid Zoro will somehow lead them directly into the ocean with no way back.

“I already told you-”

“You should say it properly, Sanji-kun,” Zoro singsongs. This is actually rather fun when he isn’t being pressured to say it. Mostly because Cook looks like he either wants to kick Zoro’s head clean off his shoulders or jumps off a cliff himself. It’s endearing and a good look on him. It’s that perfect mix of embarrassment and rage that Zoro loves to evoke in Cook’s otherwise poised head.

“You-”

“How would I even know you’re talking to me?” Zoro interrupts. Cook has barely been able to string one entire sentence together and Zoro suddenly understands why Robin wanted to watch this. It’s fun, making Cook all flustered over nothing. “You’ve never called my name, not even once. It seems a little unfair given how you’ve been treating me the past week, don’t you think?”

“I think that’s the longest I’ve ever heard you speak,” Cook says, sounding almost in awe.

“Well?”

“I-” Cook sighs. He scratches the back of his neck as if he’s trying to buy himself time. Ultimately there’s only one thing he comes up with: “I’m very sorry for how I’ve acted.”

Zoro raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Zoro,” he then tacks on.

“Hm,” Zoro hums. He caresses Wado like he often does when he’s deep in thought. It’s a habit he’s had since the sword stopped dragging against the ground when he wore it in his belt. “You should try it out with my first name, I think that’d be better.”

“Listen, you shitty-” Cook is gearing up for a fight, it’s so easy to tell. He’s already shoving his hands deep into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels even as he walks.

“Alright, alright,” Zoro laughs, holding his hands up in surrender for good measure. He’s teased long enough, it seems. He doesn’t actually want to fight when he’s in such a good mood. Tomorrow though. Tomorrow he’ll say something else, something that’ll set Cook’s blood on fire, and he’ll give just as good as he gets. “You’re forgiven, shitty cook.”

Cook’s smile looks relieved and that- that’s a good look on him too, Zoro will admit. They walk in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he realizes there’s something he’s nearly forgotten to say.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” he says, keeping his eyes on the road in front of them. Was the path always this long? Maybe it’s just because it’s dark now, but it looks different than when he and Robin walked here earlier. Oh well, Cook would’ve told him already if they’re going the wrong way.

“What question?” Cook twists around to walk backwards so he can look Zoro in the eye when they talk. He’s very clearly not worried about where they’re going so it must be the right way. It’s nice, seeing him so relaxed.

“Why did you make such a big deal about the whole name thing in the first place?” Zoro asks. “Especially considering you changed your mind immediately.”

Cook looks like he’s suddenly being put under an interrogation light by the navy. So much for being relaxed. He turns around again but doesn’t stop walking.

“I didn’t know it would be like that,” he says.

“Like what?”

“Like- that it would be so… different.”

“So you, what, just wanted to hear me say your name once? Try it out?”

“Maybe.” It’s not the truth, at least not the entire truth, that much is clear from the teasing smirk Cook throws Zoro’s way. He really does know exactly how to rile him up.

“You could’ve just said that. I’m not a mind reader, you know.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Shut up,” Zoro bites, albeit much less harsh than he intended it. He must be out of practice going a whole week without getting to snap and bite and argue. Nobody does it like Cook does, there’s no reason to start fights with any of the others. He can feel himself starting to smile back; it’s annoying how easy it is to talk to Cook. “Was that really all it was?”

“Well,” Cook mutters. “Robin reminded me that if I keep giving in, nothing will change.”

“I don’t understand.” Giving in to what? To Zoro? It’s not like he’s baiting Cook. Well, that’s not entirely true, but he’s not the only one doing it. Half the time they fight, it’s because Cook started it.

“You’re not supposed to,” Cook says with another teasing smile.

Zoro frowns. That’s suspiciously close to what Robin told him earlier. “So. Robin made you do this, huh?”

“What, no, Robin-chan wouldn’t interfere with-”

Already back to the cutesy way he always calls Robin. Zoro swallows down the rush of emotion he can’t – doesn’t want to – put a name to.

“Bullshit,” he says instead of thinking too hard about the weird knot in his stomach. He’s probably just had too much to drink. “So this is all Robin’s fault?”

“Wait, no!” Cook grasps desperately at his arms but Zoro has fought him off when he’s serious; this is nothing. He’s free within a second. “Oi! Shitty swordsman! Don’t you dare say anything mean to Robin-chan!”

Zoro can’t help the grin stretching over his lips as he dances around Cook’s frantic attempts to get a hold of him. Finally back to normal.

At least that’s what he thinks.

Then Cook grabs his arm when they’re back at the ship. Zoro lets himself be turned around and waits somewhat patiently for Cook to speak. There’s something on his mind, something important enough that he’s got a determined look on his face. Zoro keeps waiting, tilting his head down slightly so they’re eye-to-eye. Cook swallows and Zoro follows the movement of his Adam’s apple with his eyes before he raises them again.

“Zoro,” Cook says.

“Sanji,” Zoro answers, echoing the same tone of voice Cook is using. It doesn’t seem to be the right thing to do because Cook drops his arm and rubs a hand over his face.

“As I thought, I can’t do this,” he mumbles.

Zoro rolls his eyes. “If you want something, open your mouth,” he says, impatience winning out. “I won’t know if you don’t tell me yourself.”

“I don’t wanna say,” Cook mutters.

Zoro sighs again and throws out his hands. How many times does he have to repeat himself? Has Cook learned nothing the past week? “Then, I don’t know, show me instead? I’m not an idiot, I can-”

There isn’t much of a height difference. Not enough to matter usually, anyway. It’s barely half an inch. And yet Sanji is raising onto his toes to press his lips against Zoro’s.

Oh.

Wait, what?

Zoro doesn’t even have time to close his eyes before Sanji pulls back. His entire face is red, but he’s stubbornly keeping eye contact. Zoro was wrong; this is his favorite expression of Cook’s.

“You-”

“You said you’re not an idiot, right?” Cook asks. “Figure that out then.” And then he’s stormed off.

Zoro might have been wrong. Maybe he is an idiot. Because he has no idea what just happened. That doesn’t stop him from running after Cook though. He’s already done the impossible and gotten Cook to talk to him again; what’s gonna stop him from asking for an explanation?

Or better yet, another kiss.