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marimitozpen · 8 months

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how to find a family and yourself, too

Summary: He supposes he becomes a man somewhere along the way, begrudgingly accepting the role as if it was some new expectation he needed to rise to. He never questioned why it was that way, just that it was. It's just some truth of the world: the sea is blue, his hair is green, and men just have to pretend to know what being a man is.

Or, Zoro realizes he is not as cis as he thinks he is, and that the crew doesn’t care, and that he really loves his family.

★★★★★★★★★★

Hi! This fic was originally uploaded to ao3 exactly two years ago today, and in honor of its second birthday I wanted to crosspost to tumblr. This is the only fic I've ever uploaded, and I wrote it as a way to process the fact that I am agender. A lot of Zoro's thoughts and feelings are based on my own. I know there's not a market for agender Zoro, but I know that this fic helped people from my ao3 comments. The original fic is under a different name, and I went through and edited this one before crossposting, because I have improved over the past two years. Anyways, enjoy!

*slight spoilers up to and including fishman island*

★★★★★★★★★★

The first time it happens, Zoro is ten years old.

The day isn’t going well, anyways. Zoro has been training tirelessly at the Isshin Dojo for an entire year already, dedicating all he has into finally defeating Kuina. She is his last obstacle, and just that day, she had beaten him in their 2,000th match. 2,000 times, Zoro had taken up the bamboo swords, and 2,000 times Kuina had struck him down. She’s still so far away, this unreachable pillar that Zoro just can’t defeat, no matter how hard he tries. Zoro is at his wits end, trying to understand how he is ever going to get out of this dojo, how he is ever going to move forward.

It’s hopeless, really. How could Zoro ever hope to become the greatest when he can’t even defeat the girl in front of him?

So, he takes up his swords, real ones made of steel and sharp enough to slice anything, and challenges Kuina. He finds her outside, sitting by the side of the road, and starts yelling. “I plan to make this our last fight, I’m going to end this! Fight me with a real sword!”

It is exhilarating , the most exciting thing in Zoro’s short life up to this point. Bamboo swords and sparring do not compare to the thrill of putting your life on the line, the danger of getting hurt for real, the scent of steel and sparks in the air. Kuina is just as difficult to defeat as ever, always faster or stronger than him. Zoro’s arms ache from the weight of the swords, and Kuina teases him, and she still manages to toss him in the air like a ragdoll. Their 2,001st match; Zoro’s 2,001st loss. The weight of the defeat is crushing, and as much as Zoro doesn’t want to, he starts to tear up.

But then, for reasons Zoro just can not understand, Kuina tells him that he shouldn’t cry. She tells him that eventually, just because she is a girl, she will start to get weaker. That she won’t be taken seriously. That just because of her gender, she can never be the strongest .

It makes Zoro feel a lot of emotions, a lot of which he can’t really decipher right now. If Kuina is giving up on being the greatest for some stupid reason like being a girl, where does that leave Zoro? All of his training so far has been just to defeat her, and here she is, saying she was just going to lose someday. What about all of this strength I’ve worked for? Zoro thinks. What about the strength you worked for? Does it all just disappear, because you grew up and that makes you weaker?

There was something else, too, something a lot harder to put words to. Just as Kuina is accepting defeat because she was a girl, she’s basically telling Zoro that he’s destined to win because he was a man. He’s everything she wishes she was, born to be stronger and faster and naturally more talented, and Zoro just can’t stand it. It feels like an unbelievable weight on his shoulders, just another thing he has to work for and grow into. Who says I have to be a man like that? Why does it matter? None of this matters, just our training!

Zoro finally gives Kuina a piece of his mind, yelling about the things that were easier for him to understand. He tells her that when the day comes that he finally beats her, it will be because he worked for it and earned his own strength, not because of her gender. And that she can’t just give up on being the greatest, because he is going to surpass her. Kuina smiles at him, and under the moonlight, they make a promise. One of us will become the world’s greatest swordsman.

Zoro gets everything out that night, but he still goes to bed feeling like something was wrong. But how could he explain the sinking feeling in his stomach, the gut instinct that Kuina was wrong? He’s already gotten her to agree that her strength and training were more important than something like her gender, so why does he still feel so odd?

She just… told me I was a man. I never thought about it until now, but am I? What does that mean? Does that mean beating Kuina, becoming the strongest? Zoro’s thoughts run wild for a minute, and he lets them, before he thinks about how swordsmanship was mind as well as body. Whatever was happening, it didn’t matter, it was just a bump in the road. He just decides that Kuina was what made a man, that if gender matters so much, he’ll just earn his when he beats her. It’s simple enough, and Zoro finally drifts to sleep.

He never gets the chance to beat Kuina. The next day, his world comes crashing down. Kuina had died, slipped down the stairs and away. Forever out of Zoro’s reach.

It was really, really hard to accept for a long, long time. Zoro throws himself into his training, trying to ignore the way he could still see her out of the corners of his eyes, focused only on becoming stronger so that he could live up to their promise. Zoro never settles for anything less than the best, and now he has to carry Kuina’s dream, too.

Kuina’s father hands over her sword, and it feels heavy with expectation but perfectly balanced in Zoro’s small hands. Carrying along Kuina’s legacy was still difficult sometimes, but sometimes he feels like having someone there with him makes it easier. Zoro pushes forward, both striving to surpass Kuina and to bring her along with him.

Zoro doesn’t think about his weird feelings from that night again for a long time. It’s easy to ignore in the monotony of the dojo – he doesn’t stand out from the other kids in anything but strength. They all wear the same uniforms, sleep in piles on the floor, train and live and fight together. Zoro pushes himself a little beyond what was reasonable sometimes, but that’s all just training to become the strongest. Some days, the pressure he feels is so overwhelming that every “he” he hears stings, but that’s okay. He can ignore it.

He supposes he becomes a man somewhere along the way, begrudgingly accepting the role as if it was some new expectation he needed to rise to. He never questioned why it was that way, just that it was. It's just some truth of the world: the sea is blue, his hair is green, and men just have to pretend to know what being a man is. He doesn’t get to seriously question it again until nine years later, when Zoro finds himself as one member of a two-member pirate crew, sailing away from a Marine base and on to something new.

----------

Zoro wakes up to Luffy singing, loud and bright and right in Zoro’s ear. Zoro doesn’t regret joining up, because he can tell this kid is going to take him far, but he also really wants to sleep right now. He’s not made of rubber, he can’t just bounce back into place after being injured the way his new captain can. Zoro cracks one eye open and turns his head in Luffy’s direction, intent on giving the younger boy a piece of his mind.

Instead, his eyes fall on Luffy’s chest. Luffy’s vest is open, and there are two long, thin cuts on either side of his chest. They look old, already healed, but Zoro still panics.

“Luffy, your chest! Did you get hurt back at the Marine base? Why didn’t you tell anyone!” he shouts, sitting up as quickly as he can.

Luffy just cocks his head, looking terribly confused. Then, as if a lightbulb has gone off in his head, he smiles. “Oh, are you talking about my scars?”

Zoro nods, swallowing. Those scars look painful , and Zoro is kinda shocked that Luffy is being so nonchalant about all of this. He is pulled out of his thoughts by laughter.

“I got surgery a year ago! Pretty cool, right? I told Gramps I wouldn’t become a Marine unless I got it, so he paid for me to have surgery, then I became a pirate anyways. I sure showed him, huh?”

Zoro’s head is spinning. He doesn’t know who Gramps is or why he wanted Luffy to become a Marine, and he still doesn’t know why Luffy got this surgery. His confusion must be clear on his face, because Luffy starts explaining again.

“Are you confused on why I got the surgery?” he asks gently. Zoro nods.

“It’s cause I’m trans!” Luffy announces with a grin. “Do you know what that is?”

Zoro shakes his head at that. Is this something I should know? he thinks, but Luffy is quick to dispel his worry.

“Don’t worry, lots of people don’t know! I didn’t even know for a long time. Basically, it means I wasn’t born as a boy. My brain and my heart always said I was a boy, even though my body didn’t. So I had to change my body to match.”

Luffy’s explanation makes sense to Zoro, but he still feels confused, although for a different reason. Not born as a boy… Zoro just didn’t know that was something that could happen. He is silent for a long time, and Luffy just starts humming beside him. Zoro thinks he might recognize the tune.

After a long time, Luffy finally speaks up again. “Zoro, you’re… okay with it, right?”

Zoro startles a bit, then processes Luffy’s question. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”

Luffy shrugs, one hand playing with the brim of his straw hat. “I dunno… it’s just that some people aren’t. You went all silent on me, I didn’t know what you were thinking.”

Zoro smiles at Luffy. It’s weird, because smiles used to be rare for Zoro, but it seems like his captain is able to draw them out of him so easily. “It’s okay, captain. I was just thinking about something else.”

Luffy laughs again. The sun is dipping lower on the horizon, washing their boat in shades of orange and purple, but Luffy’s face is as bright as the sun. “That’s good, cause I would’ve had to fight you if you weren’t okay with it.” He sways a little where he sits, coming to rest with his head on Zoro’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna fight my crew. That’s not what nakama’s for.”

Zoro just looks ahead, still deep in thought. He is vaguely aware of Luffy falling asleep on his shoulder, but for some reason, he doesn’t push the boy off. He just sits, thinking. Not born as a man… so how did you know, then? Did someone tell you that you were a man, just like Kuina told me?

What does all of this mean? I never just… felt like a man, I had to make myself feel like one. So am I a woman, then? Is that an option? Zoro’s racing mind halts for a second as he considers this train of thought. He snorts as he realizes how stupid it is. Okay, definitely not a woman. I guess this is what Luffy felt, then. Just not a woman.

It all starts to make a little more sense to Zoro. If all it takes to be a man is just not being a woman, then Zoro has that down pat. The rest will be easy. And yet, Zoro still feels strange. It feels like a door is opening up to him. Something is starting to change, and he can’t tell what yet.

----------

Zoro hates Sanji the moment he sets eyes on him. The cook is pretentious, starting a fight with a Marine over some soup, and Zoro can’t stand how preachy Sanji is. Then, he starts getting all flirty with Nami, which also pisses Zoro off. This Sanji guy is a real idiot, and if Zoro didn’t respect Luffy so much, he would be really worried about this guy joining the crew.

But there’s something else about Sanji that irks Zoro, something he can’t quite put his finger on. He could go on for days about how Sanji is loud, and rude, and stuck-up, and stupid; but it feels like Zoro is skirting around some other issue. Luffy and Zoro are just as loud and rude, and according to Nami they’re even dumber than Sanji. Most of these qualities don’t even bother Zoro, so why does Sanji just have this way of pushing all of Zoro’s buttons?

After a few weeks and a few run-ins with death (and a very valuable reality check for Zoro), Zoro begrudgingly accepts Sanji’s presence on the crew. He has to admit, the other man is damn good in a fight, both as an ally and as an opponent. He’s also a very, very good cook, but Zoro would never tell him that. He doesn’t need Sanji’s ego getting any bigger, the thing is already threatening to sink the Merry.

But Sanji still pisses Zoro off to no end.

The two of them get along like a house on fire. They will argue about anything and everything, much to Luffy’s amusement and Nami and Usopp’s chagrin. Zoro will insult the cook’s stupid eyebrows and Sanji will insult Zoro’s unusual hair color, and they will exchange blows just as often as they have each other’s backs. It makes things slightly tense, but still interesting.

Sanji is everything Zoro hates about men, Zoro realizes one day. He is cocky and rude and he pushes himself onto women, he is over-the-top and annoying and oh so performative. Zoro can’t stand him, because he’s everything Zoro’s not and he’s everything Zoro doesn’t ever want to be and he’s so damn loud about it.

This realization does absolutely nothing to remedy Zoro and Sanji’s relationship. Zoro is not only mad at Sanji at this point, he’s just as mad at himself for realizing what Sanji is and what he’s doing and feeling threatened by it. Seriously, Zoro has no reason to be questioning himself right now, and yet Sanji just manages to get under his skin and make him actually think. Zoro doesn’t like thinking all that much, he much prefers actions.

It makes Zoro wonder why Sanji is like this and how exactly his masculinity or whatever has the power to make Zoro so mad. It has Zoro questioning his own masculinity, because he is so different from Sanji so how can he be sure he’s doing it right? It makes Zoro think about his place on the crew, because it used to be easy; there was Luffy, the captain; then Zoro, then Usopp and Nami. Now there’s Sanji, and he has the potential to be Zoro’s equal in terms of strength, and Zoro just feels so strange about all of this.

Zoro deals with it the way he deals with all of his non-physical problems: he ignores it. If Zoro can’t slice through a problem, it simply can’t be solved, from his point of view. Not that he doesn’t try slicing through Sanji, but the cook is quick enough to put up a fight. And besides, Luffy would probably be pretty upset if Zoro hurt or killed his beloved cook.

The two of them continue to fight, and Zoro might even be starting more fights on purpose now, because he’s just angry with himself and Sanji and what better way to take it out? Eventually Nami puts some sort of stop on it and gives them both a stern talking-to, but that’s only because Sanji can’t say no to her and she’s threatening to raise Zoro’s debt if he keeps starting unnecessary fights. This doesn’t end the fighting entirely, not by a long shot, but at least some semblance of peace returns to their small ship. If Sanji were gone , Zoro thinks, peace could return entirely. But unfortunately, Sanji is there to stay, and he is there to be a thorn in Zoro’s side for the entire rest of their journey.

----------

Zoro did not expect to be literally facing his past when he woke up this morning and departed the ship to explore Loguetown, but here he is. Staring into the face of a dead girl who is shouting words at him that he hasn’t heard in almost a decade, and Zoro just feels so many things he might not be able to handle it.

Tashigi has been popping up around Zoro all day; he saw her on the street and accidentally broke her glasses, she dragged him to the Marine base for chores, he escaped but met her again at the swords shop, she finally recognized him and chased him down. And here they are, standing in the rain, as she taunts him.

As if it weren’t bad enough that she’s forcing her stupid ideal of justice on him, insulting his bond with his sword because he’s a “criminal” or whatever, Tashigi starts repeating the words that Kuina shouted that day all those years ago. She seems insulted that Zoro isn’t taking her seriously, interprets it not as an offense to her own skill, but an attack on her gender. Kuina’s face and Kuina’s words… it’s all too much for Zoro.

“Is it because I’m a woman?” Tashigi screams. “You view me as weak, you won’t finish me off! Take me seriously! You don’t understand what it’s like, to wish you were born a boy!” She’s so loud and so pushy and Zoro finally just snaps. He whirls around and starts yelling back, even though he knows it’s childish.

“Everything about you pisses me off! You have the same face as my close friend who died years ago, and then you start shouting the same things as she does! Give me a break, you copycat!” Zoro breathes in, and Tashigi starts arguing back, but Zoro continues. “I’ll tell you what I told her; your gender has nothing to do with it, only your skill and mine. And if I didn’t take you seriously, take that as an offense to your skill, because I held back because you were weak! Don’t blame it on gender!”

Tashigi just stands there, staring at him. It’s clear she’s never been talked to like this; her jaw is hanging open and Zoro is pretty sure that there’s tears mixing in with the rain on her cheeks. He scowls at her, then turns back to go find his captain, leaving her in the dust.

Later, when Zoro is back on the ship, he starts to think a bit more about what Tashigi said. It brings back everything from the night of Kuina’s death; the confusion and the anger and the weird, unplaceable feeling that Zoro was sure he suppressed but is coming back to rear its ugly head. What is it about swordswomen and their ability to shake me up like this? Zoro thinks to himself, allowing himself to just wallow in his confusion for a few seconds. He then stands up, shakes himself off, and decides he must become stronger, so he can get past this stupid gender stuff.

Of course, he can’t fully relax yet, because Nami is approaching. “Thinking over there, Zoro? I don’t see you doing that often,” she teases. Zoro flips her off.

“Awww, c’mon, don’t be like that. Tell me everything! I’m a great problem solver, you know.” She encourages as she sits down on the deck and pulls Zoro down next to her. And Zoro really doesn’t want to tell her anything, but… they’re cooped up on a ship and Nami is the only woman here so maybe she will at least have some perspective on this whole thing?

“I just got in a really weird fight today, with one of the Marines. After I defeated her she started yelling about how I wasn’t taking her seriously just because she’s a woman. It reminded me of my childhood friend, she used to say the same thing. It’s strange, because I don’t think about who my opponent is when I fight them, only their skill.” Zoro explains. His voice sounds weak and it hits Zoro that this is really stupid, but he’s already said it so there’s not much he can do now.

Nami hums as she thinks. “Well, she’s probably feeling insecure a little bit. All women are used to being underestimated. Some of us, like me,” Nami accentuates her statement by pointing to herself, “like to use it to our advantage. I’ve got Sanji-kun wrapped around my finger, you know? Just because I’m a girl.” She pauses, then looks at Zoro before starting her next point.

“Well, I guess some women don’t view it the same way. They want to be seen as equals, instead of having to constantly prove themselves by exceeding expectations. I guess that Marine and your friend are both like that, they see that you’re not taking them seriously and they think it’s because you’re underestimating them. But if it’s just because of their skill, like you say, then there’s not much you can do other than ignore them.” Nami pats his shoulder. “Got that, stupid?”

“Yeah,” Zoro grumbles, not rising to the bait for once. “Although Kuina, my friend… I never underestimated her. She was always stronger than me. I never once beat her in a fight.”

If Nami notices the use of past tense, she doesn’t comment on it. “I’m sure I would’ve liked her, if she could take you down a peg,” Nami laughs. She leaves a little while later, and Zoro is kinda glad he had this talk. He’s still a bit swamped by the weird feelings, but at least the other things are starting to make a little more sense.

----------

“Hey Robin, whatcha readin?”

The response from the crew is instantaneous. Everyone who is on deck, Zoro included, falls silent and stares. Zoro himself sits up from where he was sprawled across the deck to watch as his captain leans over Robin’s shoulder to inspect the book she has laying open on the table.

He thinks he heard about this happening once before, of Luffy showing an interest in Robin’s books, and that the crew had been just as shocked then. It’s just that books and Luffy… they don’t really go together. Luffy has been listening in to some of Robin’s story times and she is more than happy to read out loud for some of her younger crewmates, but it’s rare that Luffy is the one to show interest.

“Oh, it’s a book about different identities. It’s rather interesting, do you want me to read it to you?” Robin hardly seems phased by Luffy’s sudden interest, taking it in stride. She’s always happy to indulge her captain on his more tame shenanigans.

Luffy shakes his head. “Nah, the pictures just caught my attention.” At this, most of the crew lets out a collective sigh. Nami goes back to watering her flowers, and Usopp and Chopper start making noise on the upper deck again. Sanji prattles away in the kitchen and Franky stays below deck, neither of them having heard the initial question. Zoro wants to keep watching, for some reason. Luffy hooks his arm over Robin’s shoulder, fingers running across the page. “Like this one! The colors are pretty. What’s it mean?”

Robin smiles, and it is unlike the smiles Zoro has seen from her up to this point. “That flag represents transgender people, Captain. Do you know what that is?”

Now it is Luffy’s turn to smile, the toothy grin taking up his whole face. “Like me!” he exclaims cheerfully.

Robin looks shocked for a second before she reigns her expression in. Zoro thinks this is the first time he’s seen her smile with teeth. “I’m like that too, Captain,” she replies. “How funny that we should meet on this broad sea.”

Luffy is positively beaming at this point. He finally pulls up a chair and sits across from Robin. He is gesturing excitedly as he speaks, telling Robin it is so cool that they met and that he’s never met another person like himself before. Zoro smiles a little, in spite of himself. It’s nice to hear his captain so happy, and seeing Robin smiling fondly isn’t so bad either. He is about to drift back to sleep when Luffy is suddenly calling to him.

“Zoro, hey Zoro! You should come look too! This book is so cool, they have a flag for everything!” Zoro cracks one eye open to glare at his captain. Robin is giggling from behind her hand.

Zoro sighs. Yes, it’s nice that his captain is taking interest in a somewhat quiet activity, and that Robin is opening up a little too. But to be honest, Zoro has no interest in the book himself. He figures that nothing in there is going to apply to him, since he already realized he’s not like his captain or Robin.

“I think that the swordsman wants to sleep, Captain.” Oh, nice save Robin! Zoro makes a mental note to thank her later. Luffy protests a little, grumbling something about how all Zoro does is sleep, but he’s drawn back into the book when Robin flips the page.

“Robin, look, this one looks like Zoro,” Luffy comments. Robin agrees, telling him that those colors do look a lot like Zoro’s hair color and outfit. Zoro can still feel Luffy’s gaze on him, but he ignores it. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift off to sleep for real, this time.

----------

Zoro wakes up in a bed in a room he does not recognize. Not that he’s never done that before, but it seems different this time. Zoro shouldn’t be here.

The last thing he remembers is running for his life. Zoro had been gravely injured, and there was an admiral and all these robots, and they really stood no chance…

The weird, spongy, not-earth of the Sabaody Archipelago is making it hard to run. Zoro’s legs ache and he’s sure he’s reopened several of his wounds. It took a serious joint effort just to take down that one Kuma robot, and Zoro isn’t honestly sure he has it in him to take on any more. He hates feeling so weak, but of course he couldn’t have changed the outcome of Thriller Bark. Zoro would gladly do it again to save his captain.

Still, this is a very bad situation, and no time for reminiscing. Zoro has crewmates to protect, and he has robots to escape. Of course, it is then that the real Kuma shows up. He quips about Zoro still being alive, and Zoro gives him the best answer he can in the moment. Of course, he does owe Kuma in a way, but the man still poses a huge threat.

Zoro’s lungs ache and his legs are about to give out. His arms are weak, he can’t do anything to save himself. He is aware of people yelling, trying to save him, but it’s too late. Kuma raises one huge, ungloved paw and swings it. Zoro’s world fades away immediately.

That’s the last thing Zoro remembers, so how the hell did he get here? He can feel bandages covering his skin, but they are not wrapped with the professionalism and care that Chopper’s usually are, which tells him that he’s no longer with his crewmates. He wonders what happened to them and starts panicking, bolting out of bed to start taking in his surroundings.

Then, he sees her out of the corner of his eye. The weird ghost girl from Thriller Bark, what was her name again? Perfume, or something?

“It’s Perona, you dumbass!” she shouts. Oh, so Zoro said that out loud then.

She explains to him that he came down in a bubble and how it was part of Kuma’s power. She doesn’t know where they are, but she bandaged him up the best she could, and he really needs to wait and rest before he does anything stupid.

Zoro doesn’t listen, of course. He’s not so weak and helpless that he can just lay in bed when his crew probably needs him, when his captain probably needs him. He just keeps going out and getting into fights with the weird monkeys that inhabit the island, pissing Perona off and injuring himself further.

A few days later, Mihawk shows up to tell Zoro about the war, and this is probably the worst Zoro has ever felt. To think, while he was out here unable to defeat some stupid baboons, his captain was fighting in a war and losing his only brother in such a horrific way. Zoro is useless, useless, useless, and he’s so weak it hurts.

Then he gets the orders: stay where you are. You have two years. Get stronger. It’s painful, but it’s simple and it’s what needs to be done. It makes Zoro’s heart ache that he can’t be there to comfort his captain, but he quickly decides that he will spend these two years getting stronger so that he won’t miss this kind of situation again. Better yet, there won’t be one at all. After some begging, Mihawk agrees to take him in, and Zoro throws himself into his training.

It is slightly reminiscent of his time at the dojo. At the time, Zoro’s need to become the strongest was so that he could carry on Kuina’s will and achieve their dream. But now, Zoro has people, a family , he wants to protect. The training is grueling and bloody and mind-numbing, and Zoro wouldn’t have it any other way. He loses sight of everything other than his goal and his crew, the two things he is doing everything for. Two years, and Zoro will be strong enough so that nothing has to happen to hurt the Straw Hats again.

----------

Zoro has to admit, being back with the crew after two years of separation is really, really nice. Two years apart was far too long. He had missed everyone, even that stupid cook, and he missed being on the ocean. He understands why they spent two years apart, and everyone is much stronger for it, but he is glad that those years are behind them.

Just making it off of Sabaody was an ordeal. Luffy manages to attract trouble everywhere he goes, though, so the crew is used to this. Zoro almost missed the nonstop action and the daily near-death experiences, but action is not the only part of a pirate’s life. Zoro loves just being on the Sunny, surrounded by his crew – his family – exchanging stories about their training over the past two years.

Zoro learns where everyone spent their two years: Luffy trained with Rayleigh, Chopper mastered all of his forms and learned a lot about medicine, Brook went on tour but still managed to strengthen his skills. Robin mentions something about staying with Luffy’s family in the Revolutionary Army, and it seems innocent enough except for the fact that Robin is wearing her “I know something you don’t” smile. It’s easily brushed off though, because Robin says she can’t share classified information.

Zoro is not really one to give praise, but he does compliment Usopp for surviving two years on an island that was literally trying to eat him. Seriously, Usopp has developed a lot since Zoro last saw him, and he seems a lot more confident than the insecure liar they picked up in Syrup Village so long ago.

Everyone seems a lot more confident, actually. Robin is smiling much more, Chopper is so much more enthusiastic than he’s ever been, and the cook seems weirdly relaxed for once. Zoro hadn’t noticed it much in Sabaody, but the cook seems… different, somehow. He isn’t quite as pushy as he had been in the past, and his mere presence isn’t aggravating Zoro the way it used to.

Zoro gets his explanation soon enough. Sanji is second to last to share his adventures from the last two years, and he takes a shaky breath before doing so. Robin, sitting next to Sanji, places one hand on his back and gives him an encouraging nod.

“I spent my two years on Momoiro Island.” Sanji starts. He is met with mostly blank stares, except from Nami, who raises her eyebrows. Sanji scans their reactions before he continues.

“So the island is home to a huge community of LGBT people, who wanted to create a place where they could exist without judgement. They’re led by Emporio Ivankov of the Revolutionary Army. I actually got to see Robin a few times over those years, because she visited the island on business once or twice. Ah, but that’s besides the point…”

Sanji trails off, still acting nervous. Luckily for him, Luffy interrupts. “I remember Iva-chan! He was so nice! Did he train you, Sanji?”

Sanji whips his head in Luffy’s direction so quickly that Zoro thinks it might fly off. “You think he was nice?”

“Yeah, he saved my life,” Luffy says matter-of-factly.

Sanji shakes his head. “That… doesn’t matter right now. Yes, he trained my cooking and my fighting abilities, but he also made me learn a lot more about myself. Like, that my views on the world and people in the LGBT community were really outdated. And… that I’m genderfluid.”

“Great for you, bro!” Franky congratulates, tears already forming in his eyes. “What does that mean, though?”

Sanji laughs, Franky’s antics lightening the mood for all of them. “I just don’t feel like a man all the time. Sometimes, I feel like a woman, or sometimes I feel like I’m somewhere in between. It changes all the time. Oh, and I use any pronouns now.”

Franky nods, and Usopp also nods along with one hand on his chin. “Right, I get it, but what are pronouns?” Usopp asks.

“It’s like he, she, they. You can use any of them to refer to me, just make sure to use all of them at different points. It’s not great if I’m hearing only ‘he’ all the time.”

Zoro can practically see the steam coming from Luffy’s ears as he processes this. Finally, Luffy speaks. “So, is it like, ‘this is Sanji, they are my cook, and they make the best food ever?’” he asks before looking between Sanji and Robin with an expectant look on his face. Robin giggles softly, and Sanji smiles.

“Yeah, just like that. Or ‘Sanji is my cook, she makes the best food ever.’ You can use any of them,” they assure their captain.

Luffy smiles wide and laughs. “Okay, I get it now! Thank you Sanji!”

After Luffy, everyone else offers thei support and congratulations. Nami, Robin, and Chopper each wrap Sanji up in a tight hug, while Brook and Usopp remind Sanji that he’s always a valued member of the crew. Franky continues crying because of how much strength it must have taken for Sanji to come out.

Zoro… Zoro doesn’t really react. He nods at the cook when she looks his way, but Zoro doesn’t really know what to say. He’s confused, too, because he doesn’t really know what feeling like a man or woman is like, and he’s never even heard about that “somewhere in between” that Sanji was talking about earlier.

The rest of the crew moves on quickly. Zoro is the only one left who hasn’t shared his whereabouts, and he knows the crew will enjoy this. Not only was Zoro staying with and training under his greatest rival, but that ghost girl too. As expected, Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper get a kick out of that. Zoro pushes his worries about Sanji’s coming out to the back of his mind and focuses on enjoying his time with his family before Luffy inevitably drags them into some mess again.

The descent to Sabaody takes forever; long enough for Sanji to prepare and serve dinner. It’s actually quite a meal, featuring each of the Straw Hats’ favorite dishes – meat on the bone, cheeseburgers, sandwiches, even rice balls for Zoro. It is great to be home, defending his food from Luffy’s sticky hands and dodging the peas that Usopp has been launching across the table. Dinners on the Sunny are no calm event, but Zoro loves it. He loves the chaos of it all.

Normally, Zoro is one of the first few out of the kitchen. He usually has something better to be doing like training, napping, or getting pulled into playing tag with Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper. But Zoro has questions, about Sanji’s whole gender thing, and he can’t just ask that in front of everyone. Hell, it’s embarrassing enough to ask the cook about it.

Zoro sits at the table long after he’s finished his dinner, even after everyone has left. He watches as the cook cleans up and washes dishes, ignoring Zoro’s stare the whole time. She doesn’t even try to start a fight, which is unusual, because usually if Zoro stares for that long it’s like asking for a shoe to the face.

Finally, Sanji has apparently had enough. The dishes are washed, dried, and put away. There is nothing else to do in the kitchen, so they turn to Zoro, planting their hands on the island bar and leaning over.

“I’ll bite, is there a reason why you’re watching me, marimo?” He starts. It carries the usual tone of annoyance, but maybe a little more. “This ain’t about earlier, is it? Better not be, cause I will–”

Zoro interrupts by shaking his head. “It’s not… Well, it’s not what you’re thinking. I just. I don’t get it,” he mumbles, staring down at the table in front of him, one hand coming up to play with his earrings the way he does when he’s stressed. He can still feel Sanji staring at him, and he waves his hand, gesturing at nothing. “The, uh, the gender thing. I’m having trouble understanding it. I want to understand it.” He looks up, meeting Sanji’s eyes. Sanji sighs.

“Ok, well which part don’t you get? I don’t really know how else to explain it, other than what I said earlier. Sometimes I feel like a man, sometimes a woman, sometimes in between.” Sanji starts. He speaks slowly, as if he were explaining this to a baby or something. Slightly annoying, but Zoro doesn’t push it.

Zoro furrows his brow, frustrated about the explanation, because it doesn’t really explain anything . At least, not the way Zoro needs. “That’s the thing! What the hell does feeling like a man feel like?”

Sanji falls quiet. “The hell do you mean?” Zoro can hear the usual burning edge to her words, the fight he’s used to. He doesn’t want to make Sanji mad, goddamnit, he wants to understand! Sanji takes an angry hit of their cigarette, blowing smoke in Zoro’s direction. Zoro glares back.

“I mean, how do you know when you’re a man? Since you’re other things sometimes, how do you tell the difference?”

“What’s this about, marimo?”

“Just.. Just answer the question! My reason doesn’t matter!”

“Okay, just… give me a minute, okay? It’s a weird ass question, you caught me off guard.” Zoro nods and leans back on the bench, satisfied for now. Sanji sits down on one of the barstools, spinning slowly as they think.

“I mean, to start off, did you know all this gender thing is fake?” Sanji speaks up after a moment, stopping so he is facing Zoro. “One of my, uh, friends? Yeah, one of my friends back in Kamabakka told me that everything we know about gender is just gender roles. It’s what we tell each gender they’re supposed to do or feel, not what gender actually is. Like, some people think women are just supposed to cook and clean and be quiet while men are supposed to go off and make money for the family. The way my old geezer raised me, women are better than men, and we’re supposed to protect and serve them in any way we can. It’s really different from person to person.”

Sanji pauses to take another hit as she continues. “Let's see… To me, being a man still feels more like responsibility. But there's more, too. Masculinity is loud and brash, it’s like a jungle or like the sea during a storm. The way my legs heat up when I do Diable Jambe, that feels manly too. But it’s different from when I feel like a woman; that’s all light and airy and stuff. It’s like helping Nami-san take care of her tangerines, or laughing with my crew and getting compliments on my food. Femininity is like caring for people, while masculinity is taking responsibility. And then there’s some times when it’s more than that… when I feel charged up and everything is uncertain but it doesn’t need to make sense. It’s like the early mornings when I’m the only one awake, or the moment before lightning strikes.” Sanji pauses, smiling, clearly patting themself on the back. “Eh, I’ve never had to think about how to describe it all before. I think Iva-san would be proud. That help at all, marimo?”

Zoro sits silent for a while, trying to take it all in. He’s never felt like… like a forest, or a storm, or like his legs are heating up. He had taken responsibility for things plenty of times, but it wasn’t related to his gender or anything, it was just what he had to do. There’s one thing that definitely stands out about Sanji’s descriptions, though.

“So, being a man, it doesn’t ever feel like you’re just performing it? It’s not like a job?”

Sanji just… blinks at Zoro, then they stand up and start moving around the kitchen again. He pulls down a mug and starts brewing some tea. Zoro isn’t a big tea person, but he still understands the gesture.

“No, it doesn’t feel like a job.” Sanji finally says after filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. “It used to, though. Before I discovered all of this, and the possibility that I could just not be a man. You feel like it is?”

Zoro ignores Sanji’s gaze, suddenly very interested in the top of the dinner table. He knows Sanji understands, though, as she continues to talk. “I won’t press you, cause god knows I hated it when Iva-san did that to me. But just think about it, okay? There’s a lot out there, and the crew won’t care, you saw them today.” Sanji pauses to place the mug of tea in front of Zoro. “I won’t tell anyone either. But don’t start expecting me to be nice to you or anything! We’re still enemies!”

Zoro grins. He knows that he and Sanji aren’t really enemies, they haven’t been in a long time. Sanji learning to accept themself had helped the both of them a lot, and they’re closer to friends at this point. Sanji knows it too, but they have reputations to keep! Still, it’s pretty nice. Sanji doesn’t treat Zoro like it’s anything weird or shameful, he just understands and explains and lets it be. She nods at Zoro, straightening up to leave the kitchen. “Oh, and you’re washing your own mug! Don’t get lost on the way to the cabinets, marimo!” she adds as an afterthought, ducking out of the doorway before Zoro can send him a glare.

----------

Zoro stands outside the door to Robin’s library, mug of tea in hand, for about ten minutes, just trying to work up the courage to enter. He feels so stupid, being scared to ask his crewmate to borrow a book. While talking with Sanji had helped, just a little, Zoro still has a lot of questions.

He is staring into his mug weighing his options and thinking that he might just come back tomorrow when Robin opens the door. She seems surprised to see him, almost dropping the book in her hands. As usual, she recovers gracefully, donning her usual closed-eye smile.

“My, it’s certainly rare to see you here, Swordsman-san. Is there something I can help you with?” she greets, holding the door open and beckoning Zoro inside.

“Uh, yeah, but if you were leaving–” Zoro tries to deflect. I’m not ready for this, he thinks. He hasn’t felt so uncertain in a long time.

“Oh, I insist!” Robin asserts. “It’s no trouble at all. What can I help you with?”

Zoro looks up at her, at her kind eyes and non-judgemental smile. He knows that Sanji was right last night when they told him that the crew wouldn’t mind if Zoro ended up not being a man. He knows that Robin, especially, wouldn’t mind. He recalls a day from two years ago, when Luffy had suddenly found interest in the book Robin was reading and she had confessed she was transgender as well. That moment had felt so inconsequential back then; it was just another instance of Zoro’s captain and crew bonding. But today, it feels like a lifeline.

Zoro takes a deep breath to steady himself. “Yeah, actually, I was looking for a book. I don’t know the name though.”

“That’s no problem at all. Do you know what kind of book it is?” Robin asks.

Zoro scratches at the back of his head. “Uh, yeah. Do you remember that book you and Luffy were reading a couple years ago? He just wanted to look at the pictures, though, I think.”

Robin brings one hand up to hide her lips as she takes a tiny gasp. “Yes, I know exactly which book you’re talking about. Let me go pull it down for you.” Robin pats Zoro’s shoulders as she walks away, gesturing at the benches that surround the library. “You can take a seat, if you want. I can leave you alone, too. I’ll just continue my own reading.”

Zoro sits and nods, feeling a little overwhelmed. He hadn’t planned on telling Robin why he was here, exactly, but Robin knows everything anyways and he does find her company to be very comforting. Robin is something like what Zoro imagines an older sister might be like.

“I, uh. I think I would like that, but…” Zoro is unsure of what he’s asking, letting his voice drop out as he continues thinking.

“I’ll stay down here the whole time, if that’s what you want. And you can always ask for help.” Robin pats Zoro’s shoulder again as she passes him the book. “I’m just across the room, okay?”

Zoro is grateful, so grateful for Robin’s easy going nature. He shudders a bit as he opens the book, looking for the chapter on gender identities.

The first thing Zoro notices is just how many there are. There’s like, a thousand, each one with a different name and flag and description. It’s a lot for him to take in at once.

Breathe, Zoro, something in the back of his mind tells him. Just go through it one at a time. Zoro sighs. He already knows he isn’t trans the way that Luffy and Robin are, and he’s pretty sure he’s not genderfluid the way the cook is either. That narrows down his search, at least a little.

As Zoro flips through the pages, he just finds himself feeling more and more lost and frustrated. All these terms are swimming around in his head. And to make matters worse, a lot of them seem to rely on what a person is already feeling. Zoro… Zoro doesn’t actually know what he’s feeling. He’s had this vague notion that he wasn’t quite a man for a long time, but he’s also been acting as one for long enough that it still feels like part of him. He’s getting tempted to just slam the book closed and call it a night, but he really doesn’t want to find out what happens if he mistreats Robin’s books. He has a feeling it won’t be pretty.

“Are you doing alright over there, Swordsman-san?” Robin calls, momentarily stirring Zoro from his thoughts. She has worry written all over her face. “You seem a bit frustrated.”

“I am, but I’m okay.” Zoro reassures her as he continues reading. Then, he hits upon the definition.

Agender , the book reads. A person who feels a lack of a gender identity, or does not feel a strong relation to any gender identity. An absence of gender.

There is a second paragraph below, from an agender person describing how they feel about their own identity. It was really hard for me to figure out for a long time, the author starts , because I just didn’t want to face it. I was comfortable enough living with my own assigned gender. But whenever I think of myself and the words I would use to describe myself, my gender isn’t one of them. I was raised one way, sure, but that is as far as the connection goes. I don’t feel like a man or a woman, I just feel like me.

Zoro chokes on his breath. He studies the image of the flag next to it, and another memory from two years ago pops up in his head. “This flag looks like Zoro,” Luffy had said, and Robin agreed because of the colors. The agender flag has green, white, and black stripes. This is the flag that matched him two years ago, and now with the definition…

Zoro breathes in quickly. His heart is racing, hammering against his ribcage like a drum. He thinks back to what Sanji told him earlier, about sometimes feeling like more than a man or a woman. Zoro hadn’t understood it then, still doesn’t really grasp it. But he knows that he doesn’t feel what Sanji was describing. But if nothing is an option…

When Zoro tries to think about his gender identity, it is just his role as a man. He does what men do because that’s how he was raised, that’s what everyone told him to be. That’s his only connection to it. If he thinks any further than that… there’s nothing. He’s always just felt like Zoro , not Zoro the man or Zoro the woman or Zoro the anything else. Just Zoro, nothing more.

Agender. It certainly seems to fit.

And that thought is so world-changing, so scary, so new that Zoro doesn’t know how to handle it. Consequences be damned, he shuts the book quickly and tosses it onto the table, rushing out of the library. Robin stands up and calls after him, but Zoro just ignores her. All he wants to do is run, run away to when things were simpler, when he didn’t have to think about being different. He hurries into the boy’s room and huddles in his bunk, ignoring his crew for the rest of the night.

----------

Fishman Island is a disaster, of course, complete with princesses, some of Arlong’s disciples, and some very valuable revelations about the Poneglyphs for Robin. Zoro does his best to turn his brain off and focus on drinking the castle dry, eating delicious food prepared by the royal staff, and fighting. He ignores the whole gender issue. It wasn’t important for the first twenty-one years of Zoro’s life, so it can’t be that important now.

Sure, the realization that Zoro didn’t have to be a man was a weight off his shoulders. He didn’t have to “perform” if he wasn’t a man. But Zoro had almost gotten comfortable in the performance. He pretty much knew how to be a man. Why try to change things if they were working out already?

It becomes much harder to ignore after they resurface. Out on the open ocean, Zoro can’t rely on enemies to take his frustrations out on. He has to actually face this himself.

He’s especially irritable that day, mostly hiding in the bunk room and trying to nap. Zoro is usually very good at napping, but he can’t seem to calm his mind. No matter how much he tries to avoid thinking about it, the question of Zoro’s gender identity never leaves his mind.

He spots Robin and Sanji having a hushed discussion in the kitchen that afternoon. He just wanted a beer, because maybe the alcohol could push his thoughts back, but as soon as he enters the kitchen Robin and Sanji jump apart. Zoro doesn’t hear any of their discussion, but he has a pretty good idea what it might be about.

Luffy is the one to finally approach Zoro. He does it at night, when most of the crew has already gone to bed, except for Brook keeping watch in the crow’s nest. Zoro is leaning over the rail, flicking bottle caps over Sunny’s edge so he can watch them hit the water far below.

Luffy doesn’t say anything at first, just slowly walks up to Zoro and stands next to him. Zoro knows Luffy is watching him, analyzing him in that weird way he does. Luffy somehow knows things about people that they don’t yet know about themselves just from watching them, and usually Zoro really admires that, but he doesn’t want that knowing gaze turned on him. Especially not now.

But at the same time, it’s Luffy. Luffy who would never even dream of doing anything that might hurt his crew. Luffy, who sees the best in people, who has never judged his friends. Not when Nami claimed she was one of Arlong’s pirates, not when Robin was framed for shooting Iceburg, not when Usopp almost let his insecurities separate him from the crew. Luffy had nothing bad to say to Robin or Sanji when they came out, and he wouldn’t have anything bad to say to Zoro, either.

Zoro throws the last of his bottle caps overboard. There’s no way to avoid this. He sighs and sits down, back against the railing, and Luffy follows him down.

“What’s up, Zoro? Has something been on your mind?” Luffy starts.

“Luffy, how did you know you were a boy?” Zoro deflects. It doesn’t begin to address Zoro’s own issues, but he just needs to ease in for now.

Luffy looks a little surprised, but doesn’t push Zoro. “I actually always thought I was a boy. I didn’t know that my body was different to the other boys I knew, and I didn’t understand why people treated me differently when they met me. Everyone in the village called me a tomboy, so I thought I was a boy.” Luffy’s face softens for a moment, and he lets out a small laugh. “I really surprised Dadan and Ace the first time she tried to give us a bath. But when I told them I was a boy just like Ace, they didn’t push it, and they let me grow up as a boy.” Luffy trails off a little, but nods when he finishes his thought. He looks at Zoro again, and Zoro swears those eyes are seeing right through him. “Are you… questioning? Do you think you might not be a boy?” He asks, cutting straight through the bullshit and right to the core of Zoro’s problem.

All Zoro can do is nod weakly and stare at the floor. “I asked Sanji for help and she helped me a little, and I asked Robin to look at her books but it all just made me more frustrated. I don’t want to face myself, right now. It all just feels wrong.” Zoro’s face feels hot, he isn’t used to this kind of heart-to-heart and he’s starting to feel really embarrassed and–

Luffy reaches out, crossing the divide between them, and places his hand on Zoro’s. “You’re still the same Zoro you were before, right? Nothing’s gonna change, we’re just gonna see you as you.”

Zoro lifts his head up and stares at Luffy. He knows his jaw is hanging open, and he can’t bring himself to close it. Still the same Zoro… how does Luffy always know just the right thing to say?

“Do you want me to go get Robin’s book? We can look at it again, maybe I can help–”

Zoro shakes his head and smiles at Luffy. “No, it’s okay. I think I know which one I am. I was scared, though, about what it might change. I don’t want to change.”

Luffy laughs. “Nothing is going to change, Zoro. Well, hopefully you feel happier, cause you get to be who you really are. But that’s not scary, that’s a good thing!” Luffy’s eyes are bright and his hand is warm on Zoro’s.

“Yeah… happier, huh.” Zoro breathes out. He never really thought about what comes after his realization, but happiness… well that always sounds nice. Under the moonlight, with Luffy holding his hand and watching over him, Zoro is a little less scared to face himself and the truth that he has probably known this whole time.

“Well, Captain…” Zoro stops himself, clears his throat, and starts again. Right now, this is a conversation between friends, not captain and crew. “Well, Luffy… I’m not a boy. I’m agender.”

Luffy is on him in a second, wrapping him in a tight hug and threatening to knock them both overboard. Luffy is laughing and so is Zoro as they rearrange themselves to sit side-by-side, now looking out over the water.

“I’m proud of you, Zoro.” Luffy whispers, and Zoro feels warm in spite of himself. “So, do you know what this means from now on? Are you gonna change how we refer to you, like Sanji did?”

Zoro stills. He has been so caught up in denying everything, he never thought about what comes next. Slowly, he shakes his head. “I… I haven’t thought about it yet.”

“That’s okay! You can think about it now.” Luffy swings his legs over the side of the ship and leans into Zoro’s side. “Are you feeling better now? Do you wanna tell everyone soon?”

Zoro ponders it for a minute. He is feeling better, a lot better than when Luffy had found him. He knows the crew will be accepting, just like they were for Luffy and Robin and Sanji. If telling everyone can finally get this weight off of Zoro’s chest, he’s ready. He leans into Luffy, feeling the rough texture of the straw hat tickle his cheek. “Yeah, I think I’ll be ready soon. Thank you, Luffy.”

“It’s no problem, Zoro.”

Even after his talk with Luffy, the idea of coming out is still terrifying. Normally, the words “Zoro” and “scared” don’t even go in the same sentence. But there is something so much more real, more personal, about this. Zoro’s gender isn’t some enemy he can cut up. It’s him. And he’s trying to adjust to this new view of himself.

He talks to Robin first. He thanks her for letting him use her book, and apologizes for slamming it shut. He tells her how he knew that the term agender fit him, but that it freaked him out, and he tells her about his talk with Luffy. Robin is a patient listener, and she tells Zoro that she doesn’t blame him. “I figured that you saw something that fit you. I also had a hard time accepting myself. It’s normal to be unsure and afraid, but thank you for telling me.” She reassures.

His talk with Sanji isn’t as calm or patient, but it gets the job done. He thanks Sanji for helping him figure things out, using as few words as he can. Sanji teases back, but nothing she says is hurtful. They just acknowledge that Zoro feels differently, but there’s nothing to say about it, really. Zoro appreciates that sort of understanding.

Nami tells the crew that their next island is about three days away, provided that nothing gets in their way. Slim chance of nothing getting in their way, but Zoro is thankful to know. He spends three days getting comfortable. He tries out different pronouns in secret with Robin, Luffy, and Sanji, and he is pleased to realize that being referred to as “they” doesn’t feel as weird as he thought it would.

Zoro finally tells the crew over dinner on the third day. Sanji made rice bowls; a giant pot of rice and three different kinds of meat as well as tons of veggies for the crew to choose from. Zoro loves rice bowls almost as much as rice balls, but he’s sure he never told Sanji that. Sanji doesn’t mention it, so Zoro doesn’t either.

Zoro had already told Luffy and Robin he was going to do it tonight, so they are sitting on either side of him. Luffy is playing with Zoro’s free hand under the table, waiting for Zoro’s signal to call attention to him.

Zoro nods at Luffy, signaling that he’s ready. Well, he’s not, but it’s now or never. Time to take the leap.

Luffy sets his silverware down and addresses the rest of the table. “Hey, everyone, Zoro has something to say. He’s nervous, so be nice.” The last sentence is teasing, and everyone knows it. They aren’t going to be mean to Zoro, and considering how similar his nervous energy was to Sanji’s just a few weeks ago, they have an inkling of what Zoro might need to tell them.

“I don’t know how to start this,” Zoro admits. Luffy takes off his hat and plops it down on Zoro’s head, and the gesture is so meaningful , it gives Zoro the push he needs. Zoro forges on ahead.

“Ok, uh, I guess it starts with the cook. A few days ago, when they came out, it uh… it kinda impacted me a lot too. I didn’t actually know that there was anything other than just man and woman, so it made me question a lot of things.” Sanji’s face looks weird; it’s red like she’s embarrassed but there’s a hint of… happiness? somewhere in there. Robin rubs Zoro’s back to encourage him.

“Well, once I knew I wasn’t just limited to being a man, it made a lot of things from my past make sense. I’ve never exactly felt like a man, I just did it because I thought it’s what I had to do. So what I’m saying is I’m not a man, I’m not really anything, in fact. I’m agender. No gender, just me.”

Luffy is smiling next to him and Robin and Chopper are both wrapping him in a hug. Nami teases Zoro about how emotional he’s become, but she’s proud of him too. So is everyone else. It’s a lot… but it’s still nice. Sanji just nods approvingly, and it reminds Zoro of how he reacted to Sanji’s coming out.

Before anyone else can ask Zoro, he speaks up again. “Oh, and for the pronoun thing. It’s he/they. Kinda like the cook’s, but no she.” Everyone nods and accepts it.

Zoro really, really loves their crew. They never thought they would reach this level of happiness, of acceptance. He supposes he should have known when Luffy accepted his dream without any argument, accepted everyone’s dreams no matter how crazy they were. Once Luffy declares someone as nakama , he is never letting go, and Zoro is so grateful that he chose to follow someone like that. They couldn’t dream of a life that was any different.

Zoro is feeling a bit awkward, so he’s glad when other conversations pick back up and dinner resumes. Usopp asks Zoro if this means they’re gonna be the world’s greatest swords person , and Zoro says that’s stupid, and the table fills with laughter. The night is still young and Zoro is surrounded by people they love and nothing has ever felt better.

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slutforaemond · 2 years

Text

Glowering Daggers

Aemond x fem! reader(Targaryen) | SMUT

Link to part 2

Warning ⚠️:minors don't interact, filth, loads of filth,incest (niece x uncle),little bit of blood, angst, unrequited feelings, dagger play (?)

(reader is the daughter of Rhanaerya)

A/n: I'm very new to Tumblr and am still learning my way around, so i had already posted this drabble previously as a reblog accidentally. So IF YOU'RE SEEING THIS DRABBLE TWICE I'M SORRY. ಥ‿ಥ

"Let. Me. Go."

Your voice hissed in the dark hallway devoid of any presence except for you and your captor.

Maybe it was your fault you ended up here. Maybe you had gone too far in your attempts to rile up your uncle. In your defence you were only siding up with your brothers as your uncle insulted them.

But never once you thought you'd end up like this ; pressed so dangerously close to Aemond, with his hands wrapped around your pulsating throat as he looked at you with a menacing grin.

" Why should I,my dear niece?" His deep voice drawled out. "Give me one reason why I should not slash your eye out as a payment for what your little cunt of a brother did to me." He spat out, venom lacing his words.

"If you wish to do that then get done with. What the fuck are you waiting for you coward." You retorted with equal animosity to match his. "Why stop at eye, why not slash out my throat while you're at it."

His face was illuminated only by the faint flickering light of distant torches. The dance of light and shadows making his violet eye look like a raging tempest.

Aemond unsheathed his knife with a movement so swift, you would've have missed if you blinked.

He twirled the knife around in elegant circles, the gleam of the blade flashing in your eyes. You watched his long fingers work their way around the hilt in a way that made the dagger seem like an extension of his own being, that he could control by mere will of his mind.

Even while your life was at the mercy of the white maned prince's hands, you couldn't help but admire his mesmerizing skills.

Aemond seemed to have deciphered your thoughts as was evident from his cocky smirk. He brought the tip of the blade just below your chin, lifting your face up to get your attention back at his face.

Your breathing quickened, but to your horror you weren't scared, you were thrilled.

He dragged the blade painfully slow towards your bottom lip with just enough pressure to cause slight pain but not pierce your skin.

His eye set on your plump lip as his dagger dented it's middle.

Aemond could've killed you right there, but the only thing that was going through his mind was your intoxicatingly sweet smell. He willed his mind to hate you with every fiber in his body, but to no avail. With each passing day he seemed to grow more and more obsessed with his own niece. As much as he loathed your bastard brothers, he couldn't harbour the same feelings towards you. Your childhood friendship was still so alive in his memory. And now that you had grown up to become the finest lady he had ever set his eyes upon, his mind was constantly tormented by visuals of your body, by your melodious voice (even though anything that voice directed towards him were spits of fire), your chestnut brown hair, and your fiery eyes.

The irony of him being obsessed with you for the same reasons he hated those bastards , drove him crazy.

The feeling of softness of your body pressed against his hard one was like a drug to him. You didn't know it but he was exercising every last drop of his will to control his animalistic instincts to fuck you like a savage right there .

"Oh yes I could kill you sweetheart. But I shall save that fate for your beloved brothers. For you I have some very different plans love."

Your heart was thumping so loud you were sure Aemond could hear it. His insinuation was not lost on you. But instead of curling up with disgust, your nether regions throbbed deliciously at the prospect of his threats.

You hated yourself for it. No matter how venomous your words directed towards your uncle are, you couldn't lie to yourself about the fact that you secretly pined for this man and that your heart still ached for your destroyed and long forgotten friendship. You couldn't deny how deliciously handsome he had grown up to be. Even now, you couldn't help but admire his long and sharp jaw, his pointed nose and curved lips.

His blade now pressed a bit deeper, drawing out a trickle of crimson blood from your lips to match the colour of your gown.

You glared at him.

"Tell me now love, if I decide to wreck body and rob you of all your virtues, how would your family react?" He was now practically grinning, his eye still focused on your lip. "I can already picture their pathetic reactions. We would love to see that now wouldn't we?"

"Get the fuck off me. Don't you dare touch me." You hissed.

"Oh but I already am , aren't I?" He said with a malicious chuckle.

His removed his blade only to bring it down on your body again; now gingerly tracing your curves till he reached your waist.

He observed the trail of blood dripping onto your cleavage from your chin with a hunger that made you press your thighs tight.

"Hmm" his rumbling voice made you tremble.

He turned his blade around to make the blunt end of the hilt face your body. With one hand he bunched up your gown to expose your lower body and slipped his other hand beneath.

You gasp loudly at his brash action. "Aemond! What do you think you're doing?!" You exclaimed.

He let his fingers brush your dripping cunt and let out a deep cocky chuckle.

"Look you my dear niece. Is this what your true feelings are? Dripping like a whore for the uncle you hate so much ?"

You could hear the glee in his voice as heat crept up your cheeks making them almost as red as the blood oozing from your lip.

"Shut up." You grimaced at your own pathetic response.

You suddenly felt a cold touch in your nether regions and with a sharp intake of breath you realised he pressed the hilt of his dagger to your swollen clit.

You look at him with wide eyes only to find amusement dancing in his.

He gently pressed it earning a moan out of your lips. Horrified at yourself, you were too embarrassed to even face him now, so you turned your face sideways.

Aemond was enjoying your reactions way too much for his own good. Your delectable moans and ripe red cheeks made his cock strain painfully against his pants.

He drew circles on your clit causing a string of involuntary lewd sounds from you. You had no control of your body anymore, as you rotated your hips to feel the dagger on all the right places, seeking for relief.

Aemond almost losing all his self control seeing your condition, pressed his nose at the side of your jaw. You felt his hot tongue slide across your skin.

You breathing was so loud , you were afraid someone was sure to overhear your filthy interactions with this devious man.

Aemond suddenly withdrew his dagger, making you look at him with surprise. Was this his way of punishing you?

The only reply you got was his huge grin as pressed his fingers against your slippery wet clit.

He brought his dagger up to slash the front of your gown, making your breasts spill out in a slight bounce.

You could only whine in protest as your energy slowly seeped out due to his exploits.

Aemond actually salivated looking at your soft breasts , now staring back at him with stiff peaks. The blood trickling down from your lips to chin and finally between your mounds of soft plump flesh made him practically growl with lust.

He then placed the dagger at your entrance, adjusting it's tip on your rims.

"Aemond no! S-stop p-lease." You exclaim on realising what he was about to do.

"That doesn't sound so convincing love." He replied with a sadistic humour wrapping his words.

And you agreed, even though you wouldn't say that out loud.

His fingers now moved at lightening speed on your cunt as he simultaneously pushed the hilt deep inside you.

Your moans became louder and louder with each passing second; and on the threat of them turning to screams, Aemond sealed your mouth in a searing kiss. He swallowed your slutty moans as his tongue lashed out on every corner of your mouth.

He savoured your sweet lilac scent mixed with the iron smell of the blood on your lips.

You couldn't believe just how turned on you were with a dagger inside you. It's cold feel on your warm insides was deriliously exciting and made you shiver all over. You could feel the the intricate designs of it scraping on your vaginal walls as he rotated it inside you ever so slowly. Your knuckles turned white from the pressure of holding onto his shoulders so hard for support as your body grew weak.

You clenched around the hardness as you were drawn extremely close to climax by the work of Aemond's swift and precise fingers.

Aemond seemed to sense it as he detached his his lips from yours and he took in your expression with a wide grin that was now bloodied from kissing your cut lips.

Your eyes rolled back and breath hitched in your throat as you came hard; thrashing so violently, Aemond had to press down on you against the wall.

Your wetness covered his entire hand that was holding the dagger which now fell out due to the sheer slipperyness of your spent cunt.

You saw him licking your milky release from his dagger with a long swipe of his tongue while maintaining eye contact with you with a maniacaly lustful look. The act was almost enough to get your overstimulated cunt be ready to get ravaged again by your uncle.

"I hate you." You breathed out weakly as you collapsed on him, all your strength leaving your body.

"I hate you too, sweetheart." Aemond said as he pulled in your body gently too him.

Were you mistaken or did you hear an underlying softeness in his voice; a familiar fondness that you had last heard ages ago?

Whatever it was your mind was too scattered to form any coherent thoughts as you heaved into the crook of his neck while he carried you off to where you didn't know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond smut oneshot #aemond targaryen smut #aemond stannies #ewan mitchell #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond #obsessed with aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond fanfiction #hotd smut #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon smut #aemond s jaw #aemond fic #aemond oneshot #aemond imagines

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houstonrealestateyt · 6 months

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Real Estate in Houston's Major Languages | AaronWoodRealtor.com

Real Estate in Houston's Major Languages | AaronWoodRealtor.com https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ALy2OLXnuE Hey there! I'm Aaron, your Houston realtor, and I'm thrilled to guide you through the fascinating world of real estate through Houston's 5 major languages! 🌐 Whether you're in the market to buy, sell, or have a passion for real estate, understanding essential phrases in English, Spanish, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Arabic will set you up for success in our diverse city. 🏡🔑 In this video, I will attempt to learn a must-know real estate term or phrase in one of Houston's major languages. From making sense of contracts to deciphering property listings, I'm here to open the door to a more informed and confident experience in Houston's vibrant real estate market. Disclaimer: I am fluent in English and Arabic. I'm learning the other languages, so please understand that my pronunciation/grammar will not be perfect. I will get better, but I have to start somewhere. Thank you for your patience and understanding! 🔔 Join A Different Perspective on Houston Real Estate to watch more content at: https://www.youtube.com/@A.a.rontherealtor?sub_confirmation=1 ✅ Stay Connected To Me. 👉 Instagram: https://ift.tt/CRVom0v 👉 Facebook: https://ift.tt/SJEtALG 👉 Twitter: https://ift.tt/XGhno2s 👉 Linkedin: https://ift.tt/h3L967C 👉 Website: https://ift.tt/TJldY4A ✅ For Business Inquiries: [email protected] 📲 TEXT or Call For More Information: 737 615 9615 ============================= ✅ Other Videos You Might Be Interested In Watching: 👉 Social Psychology In Real Estate: The Primacy Effect https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKvXgeF1We4 👉 Social Psychology In Real Estate: The Halo Effect https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GT5wWKBkzzE 👉 My Channel Introduction https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mdorg69LkqE ================================ ✅ About A Different Perspective on Houston Real Estate: Hello. I'm Aaron. I am a veteran, a native Texan, and a realtor in Houston. I made this channel to offer tips and advice to Houston homebuyers and sellers (or future Houstonians) and share and discuss topics that I find interesting. I will discuss topics in psychology that relate to my current real estate work and show aspects of Houston’s real estate scene that I find fascinating, like the amazing impact of Houston's various cultures on the city's real estate landscape or Houston's hidden gem neighborhoods. What you will find here: · Neighborhood Market Reports · Neighborhood and Community Tours · New Home Construction · Walkthroughs · Home Buying Tips · Home Selling Tips · Home Staging Tips · Home Design Discussions · Psychology of Architecture · Psychology of Real Estate ..and much MORE! For Collaboration and Business inquiries, please use the contact information below: 📩 Email: [email protected] 🔔 Hit that subscribe button for more Insightful Houston Real Estate videos: https://www.youtube.com/@A.a.rontherealtor?sub_confirmation=1 ================================= ADD HASHTAG HERE Disclaimer: I do not accept any liability for any loss or damage incurred by you acting or not acting as a result of watching any of my publications. You acknowledge that you use the information I provide at your own risk. Do your own research. Copyright Notice: This video and my YouTube channel contain dialogue, music, and images that are the property of A Different Perspective on Houston Real Estate. You are authorized to share the video link and channel and embed this video in your website or others as long as a link back to my YouTube channel is provided. © A Different Perspective on Houston Real Estate via A Different Perspective on Houston Real Estate https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCprXnD3VWcGs_zQOPvIYpaQ April 10, 2024 at 11:44PM

#houstonrealestate #primacyeffect #homebuyingtips #socialpsychologyinrealestate #propertyperception #houstonrealtor #realestateinsights #houstonhomes

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from-the-clouds · 3 years

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Kiss Me More (Part II) - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist || Part One

Summary: Part two, read part one if you haven’t already! Sam & Bucky put reader in charge of looking after Zemo....again. Series loosely inspired by this song.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Kissing, heavy petting, mentions of sex, minor TFATWS spoilers.

A/N: Wow! I was so shocked on the feedback I got on the first part of this story. It has nearly 800 notes. I’m not used to my writing getting that kind of attention so I really appreciate the love. I decided to make this into at least a 3-4 part series and there will be eventual smut, but I feel like there’s something sweet between these two that goes beyond an obvious physical attraction, so I do want to build that a bit before we get there. This weekend I rewatched TFATWS & Civil War because I’m officially obsessed with Zemo lol. Please let me know what you think, and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist. :)

-----

“Keep an eye on him.”

Y/N watched Bucky and Sam split off again. That was now at least the third time she’d heard that phrase since she arrived in Riga. Little did they know, she was probably the worst person to be put in charge of Zemo. Truthfully, it was starting to be a little insulting.

It was unclear why she’d been brought along on this mission, when half the time Sam and Bucky were talking in hushed tones just out of her earshot. There was always more to the story than they told her, but this time, it felt like she was more out of the loop than ever.

She adjusted the neckline of the sweater she wore out of an abundance of caution, checking subconsciously to make sure it hadn’t exposed the mark Zemo had left on her from the day before. It was a discovery she’d made that morning, and persisted despite her efforts to cover it up with makeup.

“According to those two, I must be the best at babysitting you,” she muttered under her breath. It was petty, so she wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to hear. But he did.

“Babysitting?” Zemo lifted an eyebrow.

“You know, a nanny, a governess….whatever a Baron’s equivalent is,” she said, looking him in the eye for the first time that day, which was a mistake. He looked so handsome in that long, fur-lined coat, tall and refined, hair styled perfectly. There had to be warrants out for his arrest since escaping prison, and in his current getup, he was hard to miss.

It wasn’t easy to ignore the stifling tension between them. The Baron hadn’t left her thoughts since she’d closed the door on him the evening before. Now they were alone again. She couldn’t decide if that was thrilling or terrifying, so she decided on both.

“It’s nice of them to give us some alone time,” Zemo stepped close to her, one gloved hand pressing between her shoulder blades. Despite the cool temperature outside, it was the first thing today that had her shivering.

“Walk with me,” he commanded sternly. She saw no opportunity to refuse as they started in the direction opposite of where Bucky and Sam had disappeared.

“Zemo-”

“Helmut,” he corrected her. “But go on…”

“We have to focus on figuring out where Donya’s funeral will be,” she said, feeling his hand slide down to settle on the small of her back, trying to inch away, but he just pulled her closer. “We can’t waste time.”

“I know Riga inside and out, that won’t be as difficult as you and your friends think,” he murmured. His proximity was already suffocating. Or maybe comforting. It was hard to tell. “Tell me, what is your business with them? You aren’t an Avenger. This was my first time hearing your name.”

She snorted, finally finding the strength to pull away, and he dropped his hand. That was one thing that had confounded her. He was confident, took liberties with what others would allow, but knew when to stop pushing. There was something alluring to his nature.

“I’m not,” she responded, wondering how much she was willing to share. When she stole a glance out of the corner of her eyes, his head was lowered, leaning in, listening intently for her response. She wondered if he really cared, or if he was good at pretending. It was easy to believe that he did.

“Bucky and I aren’t that different,” she continued. “That’s why we’re friends. I’m not a super soldier, but I was taught how to fight, how to kill. I followed orders for too long without questioning whether or not I was doing the right thing. And at least now, I think I am.”

“You think,” he repeated, and corrected her again like he had the day before. As much as she wanted some kind of clever or quick quip back, she wore her heart on her sleeve for the moment and shrugged. There was nothing to defend when she still wasn’t sure what responsibilities she had in this world.

Zemo halted, and she paused too, turning back to look at him. “So you were an assassin,” he murmured, reaching out. Nodding slightly, she lowered her eyes when his gloved thumb brushed across her face. The buttery, overpowering smell of leather took her over as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I would’ve never guessed. Du bist so süß.”

Her knowledge of German was limited, but she could see a flash of what looked like affection in his eyes. He couldn’t be lying, could he? She wondered. She wanted to trust that he wasn’t, wanted to identify every good part of him she could, so she could justify the overwhelming attraction she felt towards him. Something in her just kept pulling forward against her will, like a magnet.

“You’d be surprised,” she answered, but didn’t pull away. The intensity of his gaze made her feel weak, but there was something strangely reassuring in his eyes. It was just the two of them, standing on a crowded sidewalk.

She rose her hand to clasp around his, frowning when she felt the hard loop of a ring on one of his gloved fingers. It had gone unnoticed by her, until now. He still wore a wedding band.

It would have been easy to vocalize the observation, gauge his reaction, try to regain some upper hand and remind him who exactly he was dealing with. But, it would’ve been pointlessly cruel, as she knew what that felt like to answer that question. Those days were behind her, now.

As if the universe was scolding her, a loud car horn broke through the perceived silence. His hand dropped from her face, and they began to walk again.

“I had lots of time to think in prison,” he said after a heady pause in conversation. “About the things I’d done. Whatever intentions you have, to someone, you’re always the enemy. What I thought was important, trying to serve the greater good, it isn’t always worth the trouble. I was trying to protect what I had already lost, the places and people I’d taken for granted.”

Deciphering his words, she took a moment before responding. “That’s actually...very insightful,” she said, partly surprised by what he’d shared, appreciating that he felt her vulnerability, and matched it in his response.

“I know you’re stunned I’m not a brute,” he answered, increasing his pace to a determined strut rather than a lazy stroll. She was forced to keep up with him. “You’ve been told what to think about me by Sam and Bucky.”

She scoffed. “Not just them. The entire world. All the people you’ve hur-”

He halted and turned to face her so quickly, she collided with his chest and her breath caught in her throat.

“I’m not that man anymore,” his voice was nearly a growl, disgust laced in his features as he looked down at her.

But as soon as she recognized it, he became expressionless again, backing away. Falling back into step beside him, they continued to walk, a bit faster than they had been before. She followed him, at this point convinced that she might get lost without his guidance, but a little startled by his sudden change in behavior.

“What do you think of Riga?” he asked her as they cut through an alleyway. His voice held none of the venom that it had a few moments ago, so she wondered if she’d just hit a sore nerve.

“It’s beautiful,” she answered, admiring the old brick buildings and fine architecture. “But I think I haven’t had much of a chance to appreciate it.”

“Have you been thinking about me?”

They ducked under an alcove, and she realized he’d carefully led her off the crowded streets. It was much quieter here. She suddenly didn’t feel as protected as she had been with him in the open. The temperature in the shaded space was much lower than expected. And he was standing over her, waiting for some response she didn’t know if she could give.

“I haven’t forgotten about last night, liebling,” he continued.

Of course she had been thinking of him. Nearly nonstop. What they’d shared, what it meant. She hadn’t been able to sleep until she relieved herself, fingers rubbing her clit and delving into her warmth, whimpering his name when she finally came. Still, it had done little to quell the ache inside her.

It was a horrible thing, she’d decided. Objectively horrible, and unprofessional. There was the consideration of accessibility. What did he see in her beyond a means to an end? Was she really going to throw everything she’d worked for away to a man who was going to use her to scratch an itch?

Too much was at stake, Sam and Bucky’s trust, her reputation, her job, and she couldn’t allow it to go on.

But oh, how much she wanted it to.

“Yesterday was nice,” she straightened up, holding her own. “I won’t lie to you.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly in a self-satisfied smirk.

“But I’m not foolish,” she continued. “Coming on to the first woman you see after you get out of jail? Seems pretty convenient.”

At first, the Baron tilted his head to the side, his brows pulled together at her words. But after a moment, the smile returned, and he chuckled. “Is that what you think this is about?”

“Don’t insult me, Helmut,” she said sternly, trying her best not to feel embarrassed. She was only being honest.

“Are you always so severe to yourself?” he asked, tutting lightly.

It would have been better to say nothing. Why give him anything at all?

She didn’t answer his question, just backed away from him and began walking in no particular direction, wanting only to increase the space between them and regain her common sense. That was impossible however, as she was jolted backwards before she even knew what was happening, a firm hand on her upper arm, and she was chest to chest with Zemo once more.

“We were in Madripoor together. I could’ve had my way with many women there if I wanted. But I didn’t.”

“Please-” she rolled her eyes.

“If all I wanted to do was fuck someone, I could have done it by now,” he stalked forward, the air pressure around them dropping, weighed by the tension hanging thick between them. “But that’s not what I want. I want you.”

His words, spoken in a soft, low purr rattled away every bit of resolve she had left in her. Some last ditch effort found her stepping backwards, but her body met the brick wall behind them and she realized he had her cornered.

In more ways than one, she thought.

Taking in a shaky breath, she looked up at his eyes, clouded with lust. “I know you want me,” he said, not a shred of doubt in his voice. But why should there have been? He was right.

Her eyes darted around, like someone or something around them was going to jump out and save her from herself. It didn’t go unnoticed. “There’s no need to be scared, liebling. I feel it, too.”

With that, he closed the gap between their lips. He tasted sweet, like the candies he’d been eating back at his flat. Turkish delight. She was drowning in him again, his scent, his touch, everything about him enveloped and beguiled her. Her shirt had bunched up slightly somewhere along their walk and his gloved hands explored the exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

She surrendered, letting him tease open her mouth and claim her wholly. It was still bad, she knew. But there wasn’t any last bit of self-control left in her.

The layers of clothing between them didn’t allow for the same proximity she’d had to him the evening before. Groaning in delight and frustration, she reached up to tangle and rake her fingers through his hair, as his fingers curled around the top of her sweater, revealing the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Don’t hide this,” his lips left hers as his eyes focused on the stamp of affection he’d left behind the day before. “Let them see.”

“You know I can’t,” she responded, sheepishly pulling it back into place. Studying her with amiable consideration, his hand rose to brush tenderly across her cheekbone.

“I thought you’d come to me last night,” she confessed, drawing away slightly, shocked by her own admission. But right now, she didn’t feel the need to put up as much of a facade. He looked positively virile; panting, his cheeks flushed and hair mussed, pupils blown out as he focused on her. To know she was the cause of his current state of disarray gave her an immense amount of satisfaction. A buried, salacious part of her wondered what else she could do to make him look even more unkempt.

“I considered it,” he said, sounding almost timid. “But I want to do this right.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss beneath her ear. “In private, so no one can disturb us,” he continued, lips moving down her neck. “We can take our time, you can be as loud as you’d like.”

The mental image he was currently painting for her was doing very little to strengthen her convictions, whatever those had been. The thought of her legs wrapped around his torso, naked bodies pressed together sent a bolt of electricity through the pit of her stomach, radiating outwards. She wanted his lips on every inch of her skin. Aching at the possibility, the present tease of his teeth nibbling on her collarbone wasn’t helping.

“You know we can’t,” she didn’t try to stop the thought as it came out of her mouth.

“What is there to lose?”

Everything, she thought, but didn’t answer. She couldn’t really, as his gloved hand was trailing slowly under her jacket and sweater, against her bare skin, and cupping her breast through her bra. Whimpering, she couldn’t control the way her body arched against his.

Hooking her knee on his hip, she let him press forward, feeling the warmth of his excitement through his trousers and her jeans. He ground against her once, teasingly, and she moaned softly into his mouth.

He was the one to pull away, and she was thankful he did. “Think about it, liebling,” he said softly, pressing a tender kiss to her temple. “Du hast die Kontrolle.”

“We can’t,” she answered again, but even she didn’t believe herself. Raking her hands through her hair and adjusting her rumpled sweater, she straightened up. “We have a job to do.”

Brushing past him out of the alcove, each step she took away from him gave her the self control she desperately needed. She glanced over her shoulder to see him reluctantly trudging behind. At this point, she wasn’t foolish. There were only two ways this could end.

----

Part III

Series Taglist: @juice-1981 @sapphiredreamer26 @tatooineisdry @marvelsvision @spookycereal-s @trelaney @fireghost-x @booksarekindaneat @thunderingbats @felicityofbakerstreet @takacsgram @mischiefmanaged71 @fanfictionedagain @merelyhooper @gyllord @mundaytuesday @friday18eo @lovegood7553 @adara-wolfhart @a-djarin @farawaywasteland @sky-writes-stuff @fuckinglittlekitten @katyasrussianaccent @agent-jbarnes @neoarchipelago @pattispunk @kpopnena @purebloodwitch @spookyconsultingcriminal @msmarvelwrites @professorrw @lazyradeecal @captainrexstan @notyourfuckingbusinesss

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged, or if I forgot to tag you for some reason! :)

#tfatws #tfatws spoilers #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo #helmut zemo fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo #baron zemo #bucky barnes #sam wilson #daniel bruhl #helmet zemo fanfiction #tfatws imagine #mcu #mcu imagine

1K notes · View notes

moodymelanist · 3 years

Text

One Thousand Followers Celebration

okay I’m honestly kind of shook that we’re even here but thank you to everyone who’s a part of our little corner of the fandom. I love you all so so much and I’m so happy to be here ❤️ most people requested something cute and fluffy so here’s Cassian being drunk and and Nesta comes to get him. I hope you all enjoy!! 💘💘💘

feel free to read it on AO3 here too!

word count: 2975

—————

Nesta was halfway through her latest read when her phone started buzzing incessantly. It was just getting to the good part, where the main couple started to realize maybe there was something more between them than burning hatred, and she didn’t want to put it down. Frankly, it reminded her of her own love story, but she’d never admit that to anyone out loud.

She was forced to look away when her phone was vibrating so constantly with texts she thought someone was calling her. Sighing, she reached for her phone, unlocking it only to see her husband had sent her almost twenty messages.

Cassian, 11:52 PM

Nesta

Nes

I love yiu sooooo muche

Youe so pretty

I weish u were here

everyons laufghint at me but i miss u

wyd

nesssssssssss

are u ignoringme for a book agwain

Swethearft<3

did i tell u i luv u td

wait its ok I ddid

i want a kiss when i see u ok

The remaining messages were a jumble of Spanish and English words mixed together, and while she had a working knowledge of Spanish, she didn’t know it well enough to even attempt to decipher what he was trying to tell her. Still, she couldn’t help but smile as she read through them all, affection blooming in her chest for her favorite person in the world.

Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel had gone out to their favorite bar for guys night, and Cassian was clearly drunk off his ass. It was really hard to keep a straight face with him normally, but when he was drunk, she thought it was one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen.

Nesta, 12:01 AM

I love you too, you big goofball

I’ll give you a kiss and a hug when I see you how’s that

Her phone was ringing within seconds, a picture of Cassian filling her screen before she answered.

“Hello?” she said, marking her page with a bookmark before closing it.

“Nesta!” Cassian exclaimed. She had to pull her phone from her ear for a moment, but she smiled again anyways.

“Hi, Cassian,” she replied, trying not to laugh. He was just so cute. “Are you having a good time?”

“Leave me alone, I’m talking to my wife,” he said, his voice sounding slightly further away. He must have been talking to Rhys or Azriel, but the way referred to her made her want to melt. They’d been together for years and married for just over one, but it still sent a thrill through her to hear him claim her out loud.

“Nes?” he said, his voice back to normal volume.

“I’m here,” she said, getting off the bed to begin looking for her shoes. He normally called her and started getting ridiculously affectionate when it was getting close for him to come home, so it was only a matter of time before he asked her to come get him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Looking for my shoes,” she replied, spotting her boots on the floor. Leaning her phone against her ear, she bent down and put them on over her leggings before walking back to her dresser.

“Are you coming to find me?” he asked. She couldn’t help but smile at how excited he sounded by the prospect.

“Yes, baby.” Nesta hit speaker and put the phone down on their dresser as she took off the oversized shirt that she’d borrowed from him, slid a sports bra on, and put on a plain tee shirt over it.

“Oh thank God,” he said, and then dropped his voice to a loud whisper. “You’re much more fun than the dumbasses I’m with.”

She’d opened her mouth to reply, but then Cassian began talking to someone else nearby. “Tarquin! Fancy seeing you here! Are you still mad about your windows? Nes, I gotta go. Love you.”

It was a cool September evening, so Nesta grabbed a denim jacket before throwing her hair up into a bun and leaving their apartment. Once she got to her car, it was a short fifteen minutes to get to The Sidra. Thankfully there was ample street parking around the corner, and the bouncer let her in with a quick flash of her ID.

Nesta walked inside, spotting her husband and his friends immediately. They took up a ridiculous amount of space in one of the booths, and she couldn’t resist smiling as Cassian visibly brightened by her appearance.

“Nesta!” he shouted, grinning widely as she got closer. So much for subtlety, she supposed. She offered repeated apologies as she walked over to where he was sitting, but thankfully most of the people there seemed to think his behavior was too cute to be a serious nuisance.

Once she was next to the side of the booth he was sitting on, he pulled her in for a hug, wrapping his muscular arms around her waist and laying his head on her chest.

“Cassian,” she said at a normal volume, endlessly amused as he snuggled into her. She leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head before turning to greet Rhys and Azriel, both of whom looked seconds away from breaking out laughing.

“Don’t you dare,” she told them, tightening her arms around Cassian as she gave his friends a look. They both hold their hands up in surrender, Azriel raising his beer at her before turning back to Rhys.

“I missed you,” Cassian said against her chest, his voice muffled. “So much.”

“Every minute without you was excruciating,” Nesta said, playing along. He looked up at her with a pout.

“Stop teasing me,” he told her. He was frowning slightly now. “I did miss you a lot, you know.”

“I’m sorry. You’re just so cute like this, it’s hard not to tease you a little bit.”

“Not as cute as you.” Cassian smiled up at her, pleased with himself. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes good-naturedly and let him tug her into his lap.

“Sorry to crash your guys’ night,” she said to Rhys and Azriel now that she was facing them.

“He’s not as much fun when he gets like this anyway,” Azriel replied, chuckling. “In his old age, he’s turned into a sappy drunk.”

“Hey! We’re the same age!” Cassian protested from behind her, tightening his grip around her waist. Azriel and Cassian had both turned thirty earlier this year, while Rhys’ birthday wasn’t until November. Nesta had turned twenty-eight back in April.

“Good thing I like sappy drunks,” she said, twisting around to face him. He gave his friends a smug look as she pressed a kiss to his warm cheek, his stubble scratching her face in a way she loved.

“You two are the worst,” Rhys groaned.

“Like you and my sister are any better,” Nesta shot back as she turned around. Feyre and Rhys had been together since their college days and had tied the knot once they’d both graduated.

“Speaking of her, I’d love to get back home to her,” he replied. He pulled out his phone and began texting, and Nesta guessed he was asking if she was still awake.

“I guess that’s it then, huh?” Azriel asked, raising an eyebrow at Nesta.

“I’m sure Gwyn is dying to see you too,” she teased, smiling softly at him. She and Emerie had colluded with Cassian and Rhys to set the pair up on a blind date last year, and everyone had been thrilled when they’d agreed to keep seeing each other.

“She has a performance tomorrow, so she’s probably already asleep,” Azriel answered, raising a hand to catch the closest server’s attention.

“I told you my wife was hot as fuck,” Cassian said suddenly, shifting to point wildly at Nesta as their server – a young woman named Nuala – came by to bring them the check.

“I’m thrilled,” she replied dryly, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Nesta. “He hasn’t shut up about you for the last half an hour, you know. Thank God he wasn’t making you up.”

“Thanks,” Nesta said, her lips twitching from trying to hold in her laughter. Rhys put down his card to pay for all of them, waving off Cassian and Azriel’s attempts to give him money for their share of the check. Within a few minutes, the four of them were getting out of their booth and beginning the walk to the exit.

Cassian immediately went for Nesta’s hand, intertwining their fingers before bringing their hands to his mouth so he could kiss the back of hers.

“That is so unhygienic,” she said, exasperated. “I haven’t washed my hands since I left our place.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he said, grinning at her. He kissed the back of her hand one more time before lowering their hands to swing them between the two of them as they kept walking.

“Who’s that guy glaring at you?” Nesta asked, noticing a tall Black guy staring Cassian down from a booth near the door. He had silver curls that stood out brightly against his dark skin, but he couldn’t have been much older than any of them. It had to have been natural, since his eyebrows and lashes were the same color.

“Oh, that’s Tarquin,” he replied, waving at Tarquin with a sheepish grin from where they stood. Tarquin flipped him off before turning back to his companions, who both shared the same dark skin and silvery hair.

“Why is he glaring at you? Do I need to talk to him?” Nesta asked, frowning. She was the only one allowed to glare at her husband like that.

“No sweetheart, it’s fine,” Cassian replied, laughing as they walked by the table. “It’s our inside joke. He threw a party senior year of college and I might have gotten drunk and broken a few windows in his house.”

“You what? Cassian, that’s not an inside joke.”

“It’s fine, Nes. I paid him back for it, but his parents were pissed. I’m banned from his neighborhood, actually.”

“That is not fine.”

“I might be drunk, but I know when I’m right,” Cassian said, just before walking right into the door. Azriel had accidentally let it swing behind him and Cassian hadn’t grabbed it in time, and it got him right in the face.

Nesta burst out laughing before she clapped her free hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. Are you okay?”

“The love of my life just laughed at my pain,” he whined, yanking open the door. Azriel and Rhys were absolutely losing it on the other side, making it hard for Nesta to keep her composure in solidarity with Cassian.

“Let me see it,” she said once they were outside. Cassian had pressed his hand to the side of his face, but Nesta got him to move it with her free one. His cheek was red from the impact, but she was sure it’d be fine with some ice once they got back to their place.

“It’s not so bad,” she reassured him. It was hard to keep a straight face with his friends – mostly Rhys – still howling in the background, but she got on her toes to give him a kiss on his face.

“It still hurts,” he said, pouting at her. “Can I get another kiss?”

“You big baby,” she said, but she leaned in and kissed his cheek again. “That’s all you’re getting. When we get home, I’m putting ice on that.”

“I love it when you boss me around,” he said dreamily, letting her tug him past his friends. “It does things to me.”

“Please take him home,” Rhys called from behind them. Nesta flipped him off before Cassian could, earning another wide grin from him as they walked towards her car.

“Thanks for the best thing I’ve ever seen!” Azriel added, both of their laughter fading the farther Nesta and Cassian walked.

“They’re so mean,” Cassian grumbled as she dug into her pocket for the keys.

“You want me to yell at them? Hurt their feelings a little?” she offered, unlocking the doors.

“No,” he said, pouting again. He got into the passenger seat as Nesta walked around to the driver’s side, and he immediately reached for her hand once she sat down.

“I’d do it if you wanted me to,” she told him, shooting him an amused look before starting the car.

“Maybe a real kiss would make me feel better,” he suggested, leaning towards her and puckering his lips.

Nesta leaned in and brushed her lips against his, but he wasn’t having it. He cupped the back of her head as he deepened their kiss, warming her up inside from the cool September air.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Nesta said, pulling away even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. He huffed and pouted but thankfully put his seatbelt on.

It was a quick ride back to their building, and thankfully Cassian managed not to walk into any more doors on their way upstairs. He wrapped his arm around her as they got off the elevator, which Nesta thought was as much for balance as it was to hold her close.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” he said once they were back in their apartment. He immediately walked into the bedroom and flopped on their bed, somehow managing not to knock anything over or hit Nesta’s book.

“You’re welcome,” Nesta said back, taking the time to take off her jacket and shoes before walking to the freezer to grab a bag of frozen peas. She wrapped it in a paper towel before coming to lay next to him, taking down her bun so that her hair was down around her.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered, turning to look at her. His eyes lit up when he noticed her hair was down, and he reached over to play with it. She handed him the peas instead, making sure he pressed them to the side of his face.

“I thought I knew all your secrets,” she whispered back, smiling softly as she indulged him. She loved that she was the one who got to see him like this, that she was the first person he saw in the mornings and the last person he saw when he closed his eyes at night.

“You do,” he confirmed, pulling the peas away to smile at her. She gave him a disapproving look and he quickly put them back before continuing. “I love nights like these.”

“Why’s that?” she asked. She reached out to brush some of his loose waves away from his face so they didn’t get in the way of the peas.

“I never thought I would be as happy as I am right now,” Cassian said seriously. His other eye was blocked from the position of the peas, so Nesta just held the gaze of the one she could see as he moved his hand to cup her face.

Sometimes he would say things like this that made her feel like her heart was going to burst from how sweet he was. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shifted closer to her, and Nesta inhaled deeply at the lingering scent of his cologne. “I remember when you wouldn’t even say my name out loud. Now you’re here with me and my peas.”

She laughed before answering. “It was the peas that really sold me, you know. I should have written them into my vows.”

“And you’re telling jokes? Tonight must be my lucky night.”

“Shut up before I take the peas from you, Cassian.”

“You love me too much to do that, Nes.”

“Stop using my love for you against me. It’s unfair and you know it.”

“Never,” he said, running his thumb across her cheek. “I love you too much not to use every advantage I can get.”

“I taught you too well,” she said, smiling softly at him. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”

She turned to kiss his palm, as unhygienic as it was, and then got up and started changing into pajamas. He groaned as he rolled off the bed, stretching as he stood up to reveal a strip of golden-brown skin at his abdomen before walking towards their bathroom.

Nesta joined him to brush her teeth in another one of his oversized shirts and no pants. He finished first, squeezing her hip as he walked by her and went back into their bedroom. She quickly brushed through her hair and pulled it into a loose braid for sleep before turning off the light.

Cassian was waiting for her under the covers, laughing as he examined the back of her book. “Is there smut in this one?”

She rolled her eyes before grabbing it from him. “You’re insufferable.”

“That’s a yes, then,” he said, grinning. She turned the lights off and put the book on her nightstand before she slid under the covers, snuggling up next to him anyway.

“I’ll let you know when I get to the juicy parts,” she grumbled eventually. He laughed under his breath, pulling her tighter against him as he maneuvered them so her back was to his chest as usual. His heart was beating its usual steady rhythm against her, a familiar baseline that let her know she was safe and everything was right in the world as long as she could curl up next to him every night.

“I love you,” she whispered, not sure if he was asleep yet. He could fall asleep anywhere, and ridiculously quickly at that; she wasn’t too proud to admit she was jealous.

“I love you, too,” he replied, tangling their legs together.

It didn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep after that.

#acotar #acosf #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #one thousand followers ahhhh

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writing-in-april · 4 years

Text

Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde (1/?)

Part One: The introduction

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Reader meets a mysterious stranger at the library during a book club meeting.

Part Two, Part Three

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hey Heyyy! This is my first Dom!Spencer fic in so long!!! My last one was also funnily enough for a fic swap as is this one! I had @aperrywilliams for the fic swap organized by @imagining-in-the-margins. I had so much fun writing this one- it’s based on a prompt that I got from @andiebeaword and @spencers-dria helped me by guiding me with the book club idea- with a little twist! I am considering making this a series, if y’all are interested PLEASE let me know- I really want to because I had so much fun writing this. Thanks to all y’all for reading and requests are open!!

Warnings: 18+, Dom Spencer, Public Sex (is anyone that surprised??), Impact Play, Post Prison Spencer, Use of the nickname Doctor during sex, Spencer is a brat tamer, Spencer is morally ambiguous but doesn’t do anything explicitly immoral

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.0k

As soon as you walked in through the large wooden doors it felt like history hit you over the head with a book. Even though it was on the small side for a library it still probably held more books than a normal public library, almost every wall was adorned with built-in shelves stacked from bottom to top with old books. They ranged in every subject you could think imaginable, from every point in history imaginable, and from every point of view that was imaginable. When you had first discovered this place it had felt like you had been transported to another world. You were surprised that more people didn’t know about this old library nestled in the corners of D.C, it was just sitting there idly watching as history passed by day by day, while it sat writing down all its secrets.

A meeting of the classics was scrawled on the standing white board you saw right when you walked into the library. A meeting of the classics from 7pm to 11:30 in reading room C were the exact words, you didn’t even really need to read them as you had been looking forward to this event for weeks.

You made your way down to the reading room that was specified, only encountering a few stragglers similar to yourself on the way down. You were somewhat new to the events that this library ran, only coming to the past four months. It was quickly becoming your favorite thing to do every month.

There was always a theme to each of the parties, ranging from different eras of history, specific novels, and including things that were open to interpretation. Tonight’s theme was as stated on the white board, a meeting of the classics, which had been described as “Pick your favorite literary icon from a classic novel and dress up as them.”

You had decided to not pick a character from a classic novel, but rather an author, Mary Shelly. You based your entire look on the iconic writer of Frankenstein (with a twist of course) because it had been your favorite novel as a child, it still was your favorite novel.

Once you had made it into the large reading room you took in the full room like you did every week. People were dressed as many outlandish characters, with some being more difficult to decipher than others. As you walked around the reading room you could feel the eyes of another on you.

You could feel his stare following you intently as you walked around mingling with the others that you had met before. The eyes belonged to a man you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet, a man dressed as someone instantly recognizable, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. What other iconic character would be split down the middle, half innocent doctor and half evil alter ego.

Even behind the costume you could tell how attractive the man was. He was extremely tall and lanky, with deep brown eyes and the fluffiest brown hair you had ever seen.

“Who’s that?” You asked the married lady and gentlemen dressed up as Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. Maybe it was shameful that you didn’t know their actual names, but you guess that’s what some people want when they come to an event like this

“That’s Dr. Spencer Reid, he hasn’t been here for a while and he sometimes misses things because of work. You didn’t hear it from me, but I heard he got in trouble with the law, that’s why he hasn’t been here for almost six months.” Her gossipy voice was drenched in fake sugar that made you gag on the inside. You still did appreciate her information as it gained you the name of the man who couldn’t stop staring at you like he was trying to figure you out.

“Must not have been that bad if he’s already out now, or maybe he’s innocent.” Ms. Bennet shrugged her shoulders at that. You may have even been naive to not heed her warning, but the idea of getting to know the mysterious fluffy haired man that had been staring at you all night was too intriguing for you to ignore.

“Who are you?” The mysterious man asked when he finally decided to approach you instead of staring at you from across the room.

Trying to maintain the same level of mystery as the man had you dodging his question with a simple redirect, “Who’s asking?”

“I thought it was quite obvious who I was.” He was right it was obvious, but why would you let him know that despite the fact that you knew what character he was you could tell the man underneath was the real mystery of it all.

“You’re the one who is not obvious.” The back and forth you had already picked up with him was thrilling, you sensed the fact that in most conversations you would have with him it would be a kind of battle that you would have to win.

“If you must know, kind sir, I am dressed as Mary Shelly, author of Frankenstein, with a bit of a modern twist.” You made sure to call him sir instead of his earned honorific this time, to see if it would poke any buttons.

“I am not a sir since my name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I can see now who you are dressed as, but I would still argue that it is not what the intentions were when they set this up.” You could tell that he was only teasing you with the way the inflections of his voice sounded, you were glad your teasing had been a moderate success.

You did also provide him your name before deciding to poke his buttons once more,“But, isn’t she a classic, Dr. Reid?”

“But, you have not made her a classic anymore by putting as you say a ‘modern twist on things’ though I must say it does look well made.” You would’ve been offended if you could not tell that it was all in jest, though you still got the sense that you still were not seeing what all this man was about.

“Thank you, Doctor I made it myself. However, you still haven’t answered my question yet, Dr. Reid.” You asked the next question hoping he would get what you were implying, “Who are you?”

“I suspect you may already know, but I am dressed half as Dr. Jekyll and half as Mr. Hyde.” At least he started to somewhat catch on to the hidden meaning in your words, though you still had not dug up the real answer you were looking for. He was too intriguing to persuade you to stop digging, you wanted to find who the doctor really was, not the partial mask he was still using.

“Yes, I suspected as much, but aren’t you breaking the rules by dressing up as technically two characters?”

“Were there rules that said I couldn’t dress up as two characters?” He fell nicely into the small trap you had set for him, retorting quickly without thinking. Which you found odd for a man that was clearly intelligent.

“No, but were there rules that said I couldn’t dress up as a classic author with my own twist?” The look on his face had let you know you had won the debate. You smirked with triumph as you glanced over the man, taking note of each of his handsome features in case you would never see him again.

You decided to pivot the conversation to another question that was on the forefront of your mind,“Do you have a dark side, Dr. Reid?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” He was deflecting, but he didn’t seem agitated by your question, simply amused by your dogged curiosity.

“I am curious though, what are you exactly underneath it all Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde?” Your coy smile was most definitely not lost on him, he could see right through your facade. He could see right through Mary Shelly to find the true you underneath. You only wished you could figure him out as well, you wondered how he got so good at being able to read people in an instant.

“I haven’t figured that out yet.” Well, at least you got the answer to what you were looking for, even if the answer wasn’t as straightforward as you may have been expecting. But, you were realizing that Dr. Spencer Reid was probably anything but straightforward.

Your heart was pumping fast, his words had a bigger effect on you than he had probably expected, your panties hidden underneath your long dress were dampening quickly. Though as you saw the smirk on his face grow as you fidgeted in your chair you realized that maybe this was intention all along.

You excused yourself for a moment with a veiled excuse of going to the bathroom. You hoped he’d follow right behind you, to see that you were going to one of the empty reading rooms. If you had read his intentions correctly the heavy doors on each of the rooms should significantly squash any noises he or you would make.

Sure enough after an appropriate amount of time had passed so as to not raise suspicion, the good doctor (that may or may not be good at all) entered the empty room.

He brought you into a dominating kiss that made you want to cower at the same time as be completely defiant. You fought with valor as he tried to consume you entirely with the kiss, not letting his tongue slip into your mouth for as long as you could hold off. In the end you still lost the fight when he lifted you up onto one of the large wooden desks in the room, causing a gasp to fall from your lips that finally gave him full access to your hot wet mouth. He suddenly pulled away to pinch your cheeks together with his hand to make you look at him which made you whimper pathetically at first, but you appreciated his next question immensely.

“Do you want this?” You nodded as vigorously as you could with his hand pinching your cheeks.

He however was not satisfied with my eager nod and prompted you to confirm once more with an even harsher tone, “Speak up when you’re talking.”

“Yes, Doctor.” You replied with his honorific instinctually and you were pleasantly surprised with the eager groan that came from his lips in response. Plus, you were slightly rewarded with being able to feel his lips on your collarbone, sending even more shivers down your spine.

“Let me know immediately if that changes.” The contrast of his sweet meaning words with his hand gripping your jaw was jarring, but you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it. It just made you want to be as bratty as possible because even if he was harsh there was still the underlying care in everything he did, you felt safe.

“Maybe I should just call you Mister instead, since that’s clearly your dominant side.”He growled into your neck that was quickly getting covered in hickies, next thing you knew he flipped you around to face the desk closest to you with your back to his chest.

“Bend over.” He commanded, to which in response you opened your mouth to retort. Instead of letting you run your mouth as you had done before he wound his hands through your hair and pushed you down to take the position he wanted. He then pulled up your dress to uncover the panties you had soaked through. You thought maybe he was going to give me some relief of the ache in my core, but you were given a harsh slap on your ass instead.

A whimper involuntarily came out from your lips from the harshness of the slap that you assumed was revenge for not following his commands. He then spoke with deadly conviction, “I want you to say thank you, doctor after every time I spank you.”

You only agreed because you were afraid that if you did not comply now he may not give you what you wanted. So, as soon as the next stinging slap came down on the same spot as before the phrase fell from your lips, “Thank you, Doctor!”

He continued his repeated hits onto your ass and you made sure to never miss thanking him with a cry. Once he was satisfied with how much you were punished for your sassy remark he rubbed over the inflamed skin of your ass with his large, unbelieving hands. He moved your panties to the side to dip his deft fingers to run through your folds, collecting some of your wetness. You whined loudly and perhaps pathetically in response to him only lighting touching you instead of obliging the heat you felt everywhere.

“Be patient, you’ll get what you want since you decided to start listening to me.” He snapped which caused your knees to buckle again.

“I can be patient, Doctor.” He definitely appreciated the continued use of his honorific in this scandalous situation as he let out a groan almost every time you said it. Instead of answering you he started to undo the pants of his outfit, a pair of slacks that were also equally as split as the rest of his costume. You didn’t look back to see his cock because you did not want to be punished by him twice in one night. But, you certainly felt it.

You could tell just as he was running the head of his cock through your folds and pulling your panties to the side again that he would be the biggest you had ever been with. What should have worried you slightly only ended up sending a shock through your core instead. He was at least somewhat gentle when he finally started to enter you, letting you get somewhat adjusted before sinking in all the way to the hilt.

As soon as he sensed that you had adjusted he started a rough brutal pace, not that you were complaining as he hit all of your most sensitive spots as his cock dragged through your walls.

He made no effort to stifle the loud moans that were coming from your mouth, maybe he thought the thick wooden doors would stifle the noises. But, there was no way no one would be able to hear the unintelligible wails that were coming from you.

“You like bringing out this side of me don’t you?” He rasped out after he pushed your torso back down to flat on the desk once you started to lift yourself up on your elbows. When you only answered with a noise that was not understandable he prompted you to speak up with another slap on your ass and said, “I said earlier to speak up when you’re trying to talk to someone.”

“Yes, Doctor!” You finally were able to cry out with a few more slaps to your ass from him.

Each time you kept getting close to the edge he’d pull away from you slightly dashing your orgasm away from you cruelly. Each time you decided to whine out loud to voice your displeasure even if it was involuntarily he would just prolong edging you for even longer. You were babbling incoherently when he pulled you by the hair so your back was pressed into his chest and after a few more moments of hearing you beg nonsensically with tears in your eyes he finally gave you the command,

“You can cum.”

“Thank you, Doctor!” You wailed as your orgasm washed over you in devastating waves, you were sure no other man had made you finish so hard in your life. You kept repeating, “Thank you, Doctor!”over and over until you had completely come down from what was arguably the best orgasm of your life. Your own orgasm helped propel his forward, and you made sure to confirm out loud that you were ok with him cumming inside you. The warmth that filled you as he pumped into you a few more times caused one last groan to come from you that was weirdly harmonious with the groan from the doctor.

Normal aftercare wasn’t really applicable in this type of situation, you hardly knew him and the added fact that you were in an old library with a party down the hall didn’t help either. He still cleaned you up with a softness you had yet to see from him during your short encounter. Aloe probably would’ve been the best option to soothe your raw bottom, but he did massage you for a few minutes after he cleaned the rest of you. He had even made sure your clothes that were not period accurate, as he had pointed out earlier, were neat before you both left. There were no cuddles and soft loving words exchanged, but you still felt immensely cared for by a man who claims he might not be a good man. He was a strange case.

“You still never answered my question, Doctor.” You stated as you stood on the steps of the library after you two had slipped out to leave.

“That’s because I still don’t have an answer.” And, with that you parted ways into the cool air of D.C. You hoped he had the same feelings as you when you had both parted ways, you wanted to see him again. There was another meeting next month, maybe then you would get your chance again.

The thrill that ran through your veins whenever you interacted with him, whether he was fucking you or having a rousing conversation about classic literature made you want him no matter whether he was Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde. You’d take them both.

Part Two, Part Three| Series Masterlist

———

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

Dom Spencer (new tag list):

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #mgg #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler

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inknopewetrust · 4 years

Text

smallest joys (Henry!Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader)

Summary: the tree in the Holmes’ backyard as a place of great peace and laughter of all, and a moment arises for it to be a place of forgiveness and love as well.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none.

A/N: thanks so much for reading and always remember that authors love to hear any feedback on stories, so don’t be shy to share your opinions. Requests are still closed, but I’m working on getting them up and running hopefully soon! xoxo (gif not mine)

Enola was perched high above the ground in the great gray tree that sat far from the house she had grown to resent without her mother there. It was difficult, the constant want of adventure and thrill that was often smothered because of Mycroft’s inability to have a semblance of joy in his life.

Throwing the shading pencil in her sketchbook and closing it with a huff, Enola heard a set of angered footsteps make their way towards the tree in which she inhabited and she balled her fists against a branch. Half expecting it to be Mycroft yelling at her for leaving the study and half expecting it to be Sherlock doing their eldest brother’s bidding in a kinder manner, one they always hoped she’d fall for.

But it wasn’t. Y/n L/n, Sherlock’s feisty assistant from London was irate with her cheeks as red as apples storming toward the tree. Without noticing Enola above, Y/n leaned against its trunk and her head fell into her hands in embarrassment.

“Did you do something stupid?” Enola inquired and you jumped ever so slightly, looking up with great haste at Enola above. The young girl was smiling down on you kindly but also with such an inquisitive mind, you weren’t sure if she truly cared or just wanted manor gossip to share with the housemaid.

“And why would you ask such a thing, young lady?” You shoved your hands on your hips and narrowed fine eyes at Enola, trying to forget why you stormed out in the first place, though that was practically impossible because you knew he would follow after an argument.

“I asked you first, Y/n. And I’m not a young lady, you sound like Mycroft.” Enola swung her feet off a branch and rested her head in her intertwined hands that laid on top of another arm of the great tree.

“What happened? Did Sherlock finally recognize your talents for discovery or did you say something stupid that angered him?” Enola asked again, more in depth than before and her eyes narrowed now at the woman she had grown to admire very much.

Y/n was always someone who Enola could depend upon. Whether it be for new books from London or a simple lesson on dust particles, she knew Y/n had many of the answers. But as of late, with her mother gone and the tension in the home only growing, Sherlock appeared to be easily angered or upset by small comments, jokes or jabs at him that were not unusual from his assistant and Enola took notice. She saw the way Y/n’s eyes fell or how she would storm out of the room, angered at either herself or his reaction to her little joys and she couldn’t quite figure out why it was always her he was getting angry at. It had never happened before they had come to stay at his childhood home to help with Enola.

“Enola, I do not want to burden you with the petty arguments of adults. It is no concern of yours.”

“If it is my brother’s fault I consider it my concern.”

You pursed her lips at the girl before indulging in your frustrations.

“Every little comment I make he gets angry at. I am not use to being yelled at by him and I certainly do not understand why he is so uptight ever since we arrived. I try to help with his inquiries about your mother but even then, my input seems to go in one ear and sails out the other! Enola, I mean nothing by this, truly, I am simply frustrated by always being second fiddle to a man who appears to need no help at all.” You managed to mutter out in a moments time and Enola understood. Mycroft was the one treating Enola the same way at the moment and she wanted nothing more than to place a metal helmet on his head and bang a stick against it to set his mind straight. The men just do not appear to respect the intelligence of the women in the house.

“I am not meant for a life of domesticity, Enola. I am sure you can tell by the way I stir a pot or fold the laundry, I like adventure and I enjoy mystery very much. I simply want Sherlock to see that too. I don’t want to lose my dearest friend over one little spat.”

Enola smiled down at you and jumped down, meeting the grass with a thud and wiped off the shards that managed to catch themselves on her stockings.

“And that is why I admire you, very much, if I may add. And are you sure you don’t love him? If friends act the way you two do, I would have to choose my friends wisely.” You chuckled, reassured her you were simply just friends and embraced Enola in a some-what motherly manner, though Enola saw it as what she’d imagined would be a best friend, or sister.

“I would tell him how you feel. Make him understand you better and believe me when I say he will listen.” Enola retracted from the embrace and shot off towards the house, leaving you in state of bewilderment and confusion but when you turned around yourself intending to watch Enola run toward the house, you were met with the man you had no more than ten minutes ago stormed away from.

Sherlock stood with one hand in a pocket and the other clutching a book to his chest and a small pout on his face. The pout wasn’t one of sadness or disappointment, but of wonder and curiosity, already trying to decipher the situation before him.

“She was quick to run away.” Sherlock observed and moved toward the tree, leaning his back against it and looking over to you, just slightly to the side of him but facing him, not the land surrounding the tree.

“Well if she knew your temper as well as I do, I would run away too but obviously that has proven to not be an option.”

“I came here to apologize.” Your eyes, ears, and heart managed to perk up at the sound of Sherlock saying the word “apologize” because it wasn’t one he had ever said before, certainly not to you or anyone else he interacted with.

“An apology? From the great Sherlock Holmes? What ever shall I do with this honor?” You faked a gasp and held a hand to your forehead in a manner that only suggested a maiden swooning. Sherlock enrolled his eyes at the joke, seeming to understand that it was simply that, and as your hand made its way down from your forehead, he captured it softly in his empty one and held it gently, yet firm and your eyes flicked up to meet his.

“I would like to be serious about this, Y/n. My actions towards you the last few days have been unlike me and I am sorry for making you feel as if your opinion doesn’t matter, because it most certainly does.”

So he had heard you short conversation with Enola.

“Your opinion I value more than anyone in this world and I am frustrated I have gotten nowhere with my mother’s case in several days. I want her to return safely and with every passing day that outcome becomes less likely.”

“If you spoke to me about your concerns earlier we may have found a middle ground Sherlock. I accept your apology but I will not forgo my jokes in any situation so enjoy the humor while I still walk this earth.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but let the smallest smirk grace his face at the comment. He knew you always took your work seriously, but humor helped with the difficulties some cases can bring and he often failed to recognize the importance of laughter and enjoyment even in the darkest times. He still held your hand in his, in which he then brought it up to his lips and kissed the inside of your palm. It was personal, intimate, and apologetic.

“I am sorry you have to put up with me. I shouldn’t be so harsh when you’re trying to brighten the darkest days.”

“If I want to leave I can, but I seek thrill too much to let you or these cases disappear from my life.”

Sherlock actually smiled and sat down against the trunk, leading you to sit beside him and wrapped his free hand around your shoulders pulling you close. Ever since you arrived at his home, intimate interactions were seldom as Mycroft would have a million harsh words about how you were not a “proper lady to Sherlock”, but it wasn’t like Sherlock would have cared anyway.

“Shall we return to this story?” Sherlock said in a low, “fancy” voice in your ear and you couldn’t help but let out a snort at his attempt to be regal.

“I sincerely hope Elizabeth slaps Mr. Darcy across the face after what he said about her family. If that does not happen, the story dies there.”

“Would you slap every man who offends you? Because if so I’ll brace for one now.” Sherlock was actually joking for once but you slapped his chest lightly with your hand and let it fall, playing with a button on his waist coat. He looked down at you, a curl from the top of his head falling onto his forehead with a spring and you smiled at the handsome man you curled up against.

“Perhaps.”

Sherlock laid a lingering kiss on your forehead and opened the book, removing the leaf that served at the bookmark and began reading in total comfort with you beside him. It was perfect until a rumble came from the bush and Enola shot up with sticks in her hair.

“So you ARE together!?”

#Sherlock Holmes #enola homes #enola holmes netflix #henry cavill #Sherlock Holmes x reader #Sherlock Holmes imagine #Sherlock Holmes one shot #Sherlock Holmes fic #henry!sherlock #henry!holmes #x reader #female reader #post #personal post #original post #original writing

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gwynrielendgame · 3 years

Text

Gwynriel angst

I’m backkkkk! It feels good to be writing about my two favorite characters again. Idea from @bookish-isha

Gwyn peaked over the edge of her book to see Azriel watching her from the library doors. Surprisingly, his shadows were no where to be found. She turned her eyes back to the page she was reading without further acknowledgment to the man at the door. They stayed like that for awhile, Azriel staring from the doorway and Gwyn attempting to read, failing, and turning the page anyways. It was a game between them to see who would speak first, and it was not going to be Gwyn. She had put herself out there only to be rejected. If he had something he wanted to say to her, he could speak first. Eventually, a long sigh escaped from the Shadowsinger.

"Gwyn."

She ignored him and continued to pretend to read.

"Gwyn."

She shifted on the couch to cross one leg over the other.

"Gwyn, I know you are not reading."

She sighed heavily before slamming her book closed and setting it in her lap. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.

"What do you want, Azriel?" Gwyn finally caved. He watched her through narrowed eyes for a moment causing her to roll her eyes.

"I wanted to apologize."

"For what?" Her question seemed to surprise him. His eyes widened for a millisecond before his normal unreadable face was back in full force. He cleared his throat before crossing the room to sit next to Gwyn on the couch. The space between them suddenly felt suffocating, forcing Gwyn to turn away from him. Luckily, he did not attempt to touch her.

"For hurting your feelings. It was not my intention." He sounded genuine, but he was an excellent liar. Gwyn had to remind herself that she could not blindly trust him like she instinctually wanted to.

"What are your intentions, Az?" She turned to look at him, only to find an adorably confused look on his face. Adorable was not a word she would have used for Az often, but in the moment it was quite apt.

"What do you mean?" His hands laid limp at his sides. Gwyn wanted to hold them, wanted to feel close to him, but figured it might be inappropriate now.

"Are you with Elain?" Azriel avoided eye contact. His shadows still no where to be seen.

"Does it matter?" His response only infuriated her more.

"Of course it does Azriel! Do not sit here and act dense. I am not just making this all up in my head. We have been...well I suppose I don't know what we have been doing. But if you are with someone else, then this," she motioned between the two of them with her hand, "is inappropriate."

A lone shadow slipped out to caress her cheek, but she did not want to be comforted right now. She quickly turned her head away to avoid the touch. The shadow jolted back and once again could not be seen.

"Elain is...complicated. But I do not want to lose your friendship."

"Friendship." Gwyn muttered to herself as she rolled her eyes. Azriel heard her, but said nothing else. Gwyn did not want to be Azriel's friend. "Are you not tired of chasing women who don't want you?" It was harsh and perhaps not true. Gwyn did not know how Elain felt about the situation. Azriel flinched at her words. It was so microscopic, Gwyn thought she might have imagined it. Imagined or not, she still felt bad.

"Sorry." She muttered.

"Gwyn, this would never work." He said in a soft tone. He wasn't trying to be mean, just honest. It still felt like a stab to her heart.

"And you and Elain would?" She sounded as miserable as she felt.

For the first time ever, Azriel's face turned bright red. He refused to meet her eyes. He wasn't telling her something and she was going to discover what it was.

"Why do you think this wouldn't work?" She narrowed her gaze at him as he shifted away from her. She grabbed his hand to keep him from running away. He shook his head as if to say he would not tell her, but she did not accept that.

"Why, Az?" She interlaced her fingers with his and pulled his hand into her lap to force his full attention on her. "Why?"

"I know this sounds bad, trust me," he gave her a sideways glance before looking away again. He couldn't meet her eye. "It's just that I have needs in a relationship and I would never want to push you into something you're not comfortable with and I also would never want to hurt you by seeking for it elsewhere..." he trailed off, taking a peak at her before pulling his hand back into his own lap.

Gwyn was not understanding as she tried to make eye contact with Azriel. Was she missing something? What needs could he...her thoughts trailed off as it finally hit her.

"Are you talking about sex?" She felt the need to clarify before saying anything else. He still refused to look at her, but gave an almost imperceptible nod. It was absurd enough that she started giggling hysterically. Azriel glanced at her curiously, obviously confused by her response.

"Trust me that would not be an issue." When her laughter finally stopped, she felt the need to clarify. Her face was warm with heat and she also found it difficult to look at Azriel.

"What does that mean?" He asked. His shadows were out in full force now. A few of them were touching Gwyn, but she did not mind so much now. She could, begrudgingly, admit that she liked their comfort. He angled his body so that his knees were almost touching her. Now it seemed that all he wanted was eye contact from her while before it seemed he could not even look in her direction. He grabbed her chin with his thumb and forefinger and pulled her to look at him. Once their eyes met, she was locked in place. He kept his hand on her chin as they spoke.

"Gwyn, what do you mean it wouldn't be an issue?"

She cleared her throat awkwardly and squirmed in her seat.

"Do you really have to ask? All of Pyrinthian wants to sleep with you. Why would I be any different?" Her voice was quiet as though she was afraid someone might overhear her. Azriel's expression became difficult to interpret. All she knew was that he was staring at her with such intensity that a dangerous heat was starting to pool low in her stomach.

"Gwyn, I would never assume that you..." he trailed off in a tortured voice that had Gwyn all sorts of confused. "You have not shown interest in sex with anyone so I just assumed..." he trailed off again. Gwyn shrugged.

"I am not interested in sex with just anyone. I am interested in sex with you."

"Oh."

Azriel's hand was still on her chin but their faces had moved closer together since the start of the conversation. There was only about an inch or two between their mouths. Both of their eyes kept flickering down to the others lips. It was quiet for a long time before Gwyn remembered why this was inappropriate. She pulled away and sat back into the couch.

"Doesn't matter though, right? Because of Elain." She sounded bitter, but she could not help herself. Azriel looked torn.

"I am sorry Gwyn. It's just..." he did not seem to have the words to explain whatever his situation with Elain was. Gwyn figured this would be her last chance to convince Azriel, so she better make it count.

She grabbed his face with her hands, and slowly brought his face to hers. She wanted to give him time to pull away if he did not want this. He did not pull away though, instead their lips softly brushed each other's. It was a thrill like any other. Gwyn had kissed a few people recently. None of them really all that noteworthy, except maybe Nesta. But this kiss, this kiss was exactly what kisses were supposed to be like. Gwyn tried to deepen the kiss as she pushed her body closer to his, basically sitting in his lap. He tried to slow the kiss down, but Gwyn did not want slow. She wanted to prove to Azriel that she could handle whatever he wanted from her. She held his face tighter in her hands and slipped her tongue between his lips. The first touch of their tongues was electric. Gwyn moaned, loudly which seemed to illicit a groan from Azriel. She noticed his hands were laying limply at his sides which just wouldn't suffice. She pulled Azriel over her as she laid on the couch and pulled one of his hands to rest on her thigh under her gown. He tried to nestle himself between her thighs, but the gown was too restrictive. Gwyn hiked it up around her waist and then they were lost in the kiss again. Everything about his kisses were all consuming. She never wanted this feeling to stop. It was almost like a glow in her chest. The kiss became more erratic, hungrier from both ends. He squeezed her thigh causing her hips to buck up. She made contact with his hips and moaned as she felt the full extent to his excitement. Even as the kiss intensified, Az did not move his hands or hips to Gwyn's utmost annoyance. She moved one of his hands to her ass and the other to her breast, eliciting a sweet sounding moan from him. She could listen to him moaning all day long. It was better than any symphony she had ever heard before. She lifted her legs to wrap around his hips and pulled them down to meet hers. Finally, he started moving on his own accord. Grinding into her and massaging her chest. Gwyn ran her hands through his hair as they wrestled for control over the kiss. Eventually, Gwyn let him takeover. It was everything she could ever dream of sex being and they weren't even having sex.

"Never stop." Gwyn whispered in his ear. He shuttered against her as he lowered his mouth to her neck. He licked and sucked and bit that spot so perfectly that Gwyn thought she might finish right then and there. His wandering hands felt so good.

"Gwyn." He moaned low in her ear while he pushed himself against her. It would be a lie to say she wasn't intimidated by the size hiding in his pants.

Everything felt so intense that Gwyn had to let her hands wander. Gwyn threw her hands around his shoulders to pull him closer when she accidentally brushed against his wing. He, suddenly, cried out. Gwyn couldn't decipher if it was pleasure or pain and pulled away to check.

"You okay?" Her chest was moving rapidly as she tried to catch her breathe. Azriel's eyes were squeezed shut while he pressed his forehead against her shoulder. His body was no longer pressed to every inch of hers, but instead hovering. She tried to push him closer again. Instead, he quickly disentangled himself from her.

"I need to go." Gwyn thought she might get whiplash from his sudden change of mood, but one glance at his pants had her understanding.

"It's okay, Az." She grabbed his hand and pulled him back on the couch. She hiked her dress up again as she straddled him before setting it back down. He refused to look at her and the hint of a blush colored his cheeks.

"Sorry." He muttered. Gwyn shook her head with a smile.

"Don't be." Gwyn grabbed his face to look at her while sitting on his still semi-erect cock. "You'll have to end things with Elain before I let you go any further anyways."

A look she couldn't decipher crossed his face. It was definitely a look she didn't like either. It slowly started stamping on the warm, glowing emotion she had been feeling. She sighed heavily before pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was short before he pulled away.

"Wings are extremely sensitive." He started to explain.

"It's okay, Az. Really, don't worry about it." She shrugged, but he only shook his head.

"No, I want you to know that if we did have sex, it would not be that short. As long as you avoided the wings." He was so serious about it that a thrill shot through Gwyn. He wanted to have sex with her. Might even be planning to have sex with her.

A mischievous smile crossed her face.

"How does it work exactly? I just touch the right spot and you finish?" She was walking two fingers up his arm when his hand clamped down on her wrist and put it back at her side. A slightly annoyed expression crossed his face.

"I'm not telling you." His bottom lip jutted out in a pout that Gwyn had never seen before. It would be very effective in persuading her to do just about anything.

Gwyn climbed off Azriel and started heading for the exit once she had smoothed down her clothes and hair.

"That's fine. I will just have to figure it out on my own, I suppose." She tossed him one more flirty smile and headed towards the dining room.

She bumped into Cass on the way, who she thought was in windhaven. She felt nervous that perhaps he heard the two of them, but Azriel would have known he was here and stopped anything from progressing.

"Hey Cass." She kept walking, hoping to avoid any conversation.

"Hey Gwyn," a small smirk pulled up the corner of his lips. "Have you seen Az? I need his help." Gwyn stopped and turned back to quickly finish the conversation with Cassian. She barely contained the blush she wanted to give.

"I think he might be in the library? Could also check his room." She shrugged as if she did not just exit the library after sucking the soul out of the Shadowsinger.

"Alrighty." He turned to leave. Gwyn thought she was in the clear until he turned back once more. "I'll let him know he should be more careful with his placement next time." And then he tapped his neck. Right where Gwyn remember Azriel devoting quite a decent amount of time to biting. Gwyn shrieked, slapped her hand over her neck, and ran all the way to her room. She was going to kill the Shadowsinger.

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #elain archeron #acotar #acosf

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ialwaysgobacktoit · 3 years

Text

Time to rest your weary head: Part 13!

IT TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH, but it is here!!! As I explained before, I was facing the last weeks of my semester, delivering final papers and such, but now I'm freee!!!! I thank you all for your patience and eternal support, really <3 hope you like this one! :)))

Also tagging some of my beautiful readers <3 @madie2200 @katiebellf @starbornsinger

Last thing: I wanna leave here my praise to all fic writers and fanfiction and headcanons I had the pleasure of reading on this website; you all inspire me so much, and I’m glad to say I am a part of such a beautiful net of sharing and reading other’s stories :) you are awesome and you inspire me to keep on writing! Thank you :)

Check out the Chapter List and Part 12 if you haven't read it yet!

It was late, but Azriel didn’t mind. He felt like he could explode: like all of a sudden, all his life made much more sense.

He had a mate.

That mate was Gwyn.

And Gwyn had kissed him.

As he jumped off the balcony at the House of Wind, diving fast before soaring, he couldn’t contain his grin. His heart hadn’t stopped thundering in his chest ever since he got to her door. They kissed, and he sensed her affection and desire as sure as she had felt his. He held her in his arms, just like he had that night all those weeks ago. And he had missed so badly doing so, he realized the second he felt her hand on his cheek, caressing him in a way no one ever had, before she enlaced her arms behind his neck.

He felt like a teenager, his Ilyrian hormones pumping through his body, making him restless and euphoric. He wanted so bad to go back, to just stay with her, to make up any excuse to see her, to wake her up, to lay down with her. To spend every second he had right next to her, learning all the different ways he could make her glow.

For so long, he deemed himself worthless; tainted and scarred and damaged. But now he could see that perhaps that wasn’t true. He was hurt, but he could heal; everyone had a past, and it shouldn’t prevent them from living their present. And Gwyn… She was the reason he started believing that. That he had hope left, and that maybe…. Maybe he could care about himself just like others cared about him.

It took a second to realize he was crying. Alone, just him and his shadows, as he soared and spun across the night sky, he was crying. Sobbing and laughing uncontrollably at the same time. He breathed in and out, trying to calm his racing heart, but he still let the tears flow; he still kept smiling, the image of Gwyn’s face never fading from his mind.

Feeling the cold wind across his face, he landed on the pathway to the River House. It was all dark, but he could see a dim light from one of the windows. Rhys’s study.

Rhys. He lowered his mental shields enough so he could voice his brother’s name. Are you there?

Silence, before Rhys’s voice sounded. Yes. Are you alright?

I need to talk to you. May I come in?

He heard footsteps approaching the front door, and then Rhysand was staring at him, violet eyes dark in the dim light. “Come in, brother.”

He was greeted by the image of Nesta facing him, that huge portrait that Feyre had painted some time ago, after The Blood Rite. The house was silent, and all he could hear was his steps as he followed Rhysand to his study.

When he closed the door, Rhysand had just sat down at his armchair.

“Are Feyre and Nyx asleep?”

“Fortunately. The kid’s been having some trouble sleeping these last few months, therefore so have we.” He snorted, but smiled fondly at the thought of his family. “Sit down, Az.”

He obliged, and felt the way Rhys sized him up, trying to decipher what was going on with him. And although Azriel’s expression yielded nothing, he didn’t make an effort to wipe away his tears from before; so his brother was probably putting up the pieces together by now.

Azriel didn’t leave enough time for him to do so, as he again talked to him mentally.

Gwyn is my mate. But I reckon you already know that.

I do. I suppose it didn’t go well, then.

And Cauldron-damn him if he didn’t start laughing at that. And not a bitter one, but a true, genuine chuckle that made Rhys’s brows shot up and a bemused smile appeared on his face.

“It went more than well, actually.” Azriel corrected, shaking his head as he looked to the ground, still smiling. “And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” His brother shifted in his seat, resting his elbows in his knees and interlocking his fingers.

So Azriel explained what Rhys needed to do for them. He honestly didn’t care if his family knew or not about their mating bond, but was well aware Gwyn might need some time to adjust – and the required privacy to do so. And that was fine with him; as long as he was able to spend time with her, he’d be happy. In any way she wanted.

When he was finished, they stood in silence for a couple of seconds.

“So, I see you have your shot at happiness in your hands at last, brother.” Rhysand stated, with a knowing smile on his face.

“I do.”

“She was very good at refraining from telling you. Of course, I didn’t mean to pry when I found out. But do you know why I read her thoughts that night?”

Azriel shook his head, and watched as his brother declared with a low tone.

“She was just sitting there, in a midst of people whom she didn’t have familiarity with, and you were by your usual spot, talking to Mor. And she was just staring at you, eyes full of an emotion I couldn’t decipher, but I knew what that gesture meant. She couldn’t keep herself from looking at you, just as you couldn’t stop from glancing at her time and time again during the evening: like you were drawn to each other. I was going to ask her if she needed to talk about it, though I knew it was none of my business and she was unlikely to do so, but then I read her thoughts about you being mates.”

“That’s why I didn’t meddle in. I was witnessing something way bigger than me, and I think you know what I mean.” He finished, and completed “That’s why I - and Feyre - kept quiet about it.”

All Azriel could do was laugh quietly again at the mention of his High Lady. “Of course she’d know.”

“My dear brother, I learned by experience you shouldn’t keep things from your mate, even if it is to protect them. You're supposed to walk through it together.” Regret crossed Rhysand’s face at that confession.

Azriel knew that although his brother claimed to hide the details of Feyre’s pregnancy from her not to worry her, it wasn’t exactly fair all the same.

“But I’m certain you’ll learn that with time.” He completed, leaning over to pat Azriel on his knee. “So, don’t worry. I will do as you ask.”

Azriel nodded his thanks and stood up, meaning to leave. But, just as he was reaching the door, a thought occurred and he turned again to his High Lord.

“Rhys” He kept sitting on his chair, staring at him expectantly “It took me long enough to realize, but I’m glad you stopped me that Solstice night.”

Rhysand let out a soft chuckle at that, and bowed his head slightly, raising his glass. Knowing well what Azriel had meant with that.

****

His shadows were restless. He barely slept during the rest of the evening, his mind too awake to give in to slumber. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was slightly nervous to see Gwyn again – and to see if they’re new acknowledged bond would stand out or if Rhysand’s spell would work. He wouldn’t doubt of his High Lord and brother, but still. He wanted to see it for himself.

He stood in the training ring ever since sunrise. Gwyn had gone to her usual morning service and he hadn’t seen her, only felt her absence in the House, both an effect from the mating bond and his shadows, since they were so eager to be around her. So he sparred for hours, waiting for the moment training began and he would see her again.

The priestesses started to arrive right about the time Cassian showed up.

“Morning, brother”

Azriel nodded back, and turned to arrange the practice swords and shields into place, preparing the room.

“How was last night?”

He could sense Cassian’s presence behind him, and the innuendo in his sly tone. Gwyn’s image appeared in his mind once again, her burgundy dress complimenting her body’s every feature. He could feel her in his arms, their proximity and heat, the way he kissed her with all need and tenderness he ever felt towards her, the small sound she made when he pulled her close, pressing their bodies together… He was cut short from his thoughts when Cassian cleared his throat, suppressing a laugh.

“I can scent everything went well, then.”

Fuck.

He started thinking about other things, anything at all, to cover his desiring scent. It wasn’t professional nor respectful to appear that way in front of the Priestesses, even though Cassian and Nesta didn’t seem to mind covering their own arousal multiple times during all these months.

It was right at that moment Cassian’s mate and Gwyn arrived, their voices filling up the air. Azriel was still with his back to the door, and counted a total of five seconds before turning around and facing the deep teal ocean that were Gwyn’s eyes.

Like the seas in Reyna.

His shadows whispered one of Summer Court’s many beaches, the quietest, most isolated and beautiful one. Azriel felt a subtle need to take her there someday, to travel around Prythian with her, to watch her explore and discover the continent, her face lighting up with each new sight.

He casually approached the two females, who were still talking while they began their stretching on the mats.

“Good morning.” He let out, dipping his head a bit.

“Hello.” Gwyn greeted back, meeting his eyes. He watched as she breathed, noticing every detail of her exposed neck and freckled cheeks before meeting her eyes. It was a monumental effort to not scan her entire body and take in all of her curves. She seemed to notice that, and with a thrilling sensation he watched her face blush.

“Good morning to you too, Azriel” Nesta mocked, interrupting their charged silence. “Did you enjoy your evening?”

She directed this particular question to both of them. Gwyn finally tore her eyes away from Azriel, doing nothing to conceal her flushed cheeks.

“Yes.” She nodded a bit timidly, biting down her lip to keep her from smiling further, and met her friend’s inquisitive stare with a sparkle that almost sent Azriel to his knees.

Damn. That female would be the death of him.

“We did indeed.” Azriel found himself agreeing, his voice rough all of a sudden. His shadows reached towards Gwyn, desperately trying to turn her attention to him, to them. He wanted to be lost in those teal eyes again, to be alone with her.

“I’m glad to hear that, Gwyn.” Nesta smiled kindly to Gwyn, honesty and pride in her tone. “Although you’re aware you’ll have to give me more details later.”

Gwyn rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, continuing her warm-up exercises while Nesta stood up. As she went on to stretch her thigh, holding it behind her back, she leaned on Azriel, placing one hand on his shoulder to steady herself and taking advantage of the situation by voicing quietly:

“You hurt my sister and I’ll make you regret it, Spymaster.”

His shadows protectively wrapped around his shoulders, but he was well accustomed to Nesta and they had developed a great friendship after all those months. He could always understand and read through her pain and aggressiveness, even when others didn’t. He did believe her words, though. She, pretty much like him, would do anything to protect the ones she loved.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He nodded once, staring into her piercing eyes, and she patted his shoulder once, seeming satisfied with his answer, before pushing back and striding towards Cassian.

Gwyn kept stretching on the floor, but he could see she heard everything they said by her amused smile as she watched her friend walking away. Azriel reached his hand towards her, and she faced him again and grabbed it, helping herself up.

They were standing face to face now, hands still intertwined. He could hear Cassian and Nesta organizing the Priestesses in the background, the rustle of robes and training leathers as they moved across the training ring. But he couldn’t care less, not when he was holding his mate’s hand, face mere inches from hers.

“It seems you just got intimated by Nesta, huh?” She teased.

He shrugged: “It’s nothing to which I’m not used to by now.”

She chuckled, her eyes crinkling and her voice a sweet melody to his ears. He couldn’t stop but join her, with a quiet laugh. He could feel both Cassian and Nesta’s stare on them, observing their every move. It didn’t seem like the couple caught up on the scent of their mating bond, even though that faint chill mist mixed with water lilies, the combination of him and her, was currently inebriating his senses.

“Could we see each other later today?” Gwyn surprised him by asking, her big bright eyes waiting expectantly for him to answer.

She took a sudden breath, like she was trying to capture the new scent they shared as well, and Azriel found his lips blooming into a smile, both at the thought and at the request:

“I’d love to.”

She beamed “You can meet me at the library, if you are free.”

Gods, she was stunning. He couldn’t stop counting her freckles, observing the way her ponytail twirled behind her back, marveling at how warm her hand felt against his. What a strange and powerful feeling, he thought; to miss someone with that intensity, to desire more than anything to be close to them at all times.

And Azriel wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’ll be there.”

***

And so he went. After successfully ignoring most of Cassian and Nesta’s teasing remarks through training and lunch, none of them, however, related to the mating bond, Azriel found himself heading towards the library.

He was greeted by Clotho as soon as he entered the space, her magic pen already moving.

Good afternoon, Azriel. What can I do for you?

“I’m looking for Gwyn.” He cordially bowed his head to the Priestess.

Do you want me to call her?

“Thank you, but there is no need. If you could just tell me in which section she is I’ll meet her there, if that’s ok.”

“Ancient hymns and rituals”, third floor down to the right. You’ll find her.

He swore something about the way that magic pen swirled at the last sentence had a tinge of cheekiness, mischief even. So he gave Clotho a soft smile and went into the depths of the library, descending the stars and carefully avoiding staring directly at any Priestess that walked by, only greeting quietly the ones he knew from training.

As usual, his shadows kept swirling faster and faster with each step closer to Gwyn, excited at the prospect of being alone with her. Well, not alone entirely, but Azriel didn’t particularly care at the moment. He knew the curious eyes directed at them would be much more discreet than the ones at training – or anywhere else, for a matter of fact.

He could hear her before he saw her, humming softly as she labeled and stored a few books back on their spots. His heart thrummed against his chest, and he leaned on a shelf across from where she stood, still absorbed in her task, humming the same sweet melody over and over again.

Before he managed to say anything, one of his shadows darted to touch her hand, and her eyes lifted from the book she was holding and met his, her mouth quirked to the side.

“How long have you been there?” She put down the book and crossed her arms in front of her chest, lifting an eyebrow.

His shadows had encapsulated her shoulders and hair now, in a way that she seemed to be the Shadowsinger, and not him. He commanded them to get back to their places, but in vain. He honestly didn’t know why he even tried anymore.

“Not long.” He finally pushed away from his place by the shelf and stepped towards her, while she did the same.

He grabbed her hand, his thumb feeling her soft skin. His shadows encircled them both now, creating a dark cloud in an already dim-lit room. Gwyn laughed at them; curiously following their patterns with her eyes, hand still intertwined with his.

“They never did that before, with anyone.” Azriel observed the way his shadows expanded and darkened around and above them.

“Well, as you said before, they like me. If I were you, I’d be worried they might run away and come to me. I wouldn’t mind at all. Curious little things.”

When he faced her again she was staring at him with such intent he drew a ragged breath, mind focusing only on the female before him. The poor lighting of this particular hallway made her eyes darken, her pupils dilate, mouth slightly parted. Her copper hair now a shade of deep red, like molten fire. He just wanted to kiss each and every one of her freckles, from her face to her neck and below.

The thought made his body ache for her, his pants growing uncomfortably tight. He breathed deep, once, twice, in order to calm his mind and thoughts, but was cut short when her lips met his.

His arms instantly found their way to her hips, gripping her gently. She tugged her hands in his hair, pressing herself against him as the kiss deepened, her lips parting wider to give him access. He enlaced one arm around her, keeping her close and placing his other hand in the back of her neck. He could hear a song, an ancient melody spreading from them, an array of strings and choirs.

When they parted at last, her eyes were wide.

“Did you hear that?” She whispered as they breathed in each other’s scent. Her hands were still on his hair, and he couldn’t take his hands off her just yet, placing them steadily on her hips once again.

He nodded, smiling, and she laughed silently before continuing: “It was magical.”

He leaned to kiss her once again, stopping for a brief second and silently asking for her permission to continue. She closed her eyes, lifting her face, and a soft sigh escaped her lips when they met his for the second time. It was softer this time, tender. Azriel didn’t know if something could ever feel better than this, than having his mate in his arms; than having Gwyn in his arms.

When they parted, he rested his forehead on hers, their breaths mingling. The scent of their mating bond stronger this time, only enough for them to sense it.

“Do you think they could feel it today?” Gwyn seemed to read his mind. “Our scent.”

He met her ocean eyes and shook his head: “Well, Nesta has a sharp mind, and Cassian knows me my entire life. They definitely suspect something.” He huffed a laugh “But not relating to the bond. They probably think is a crush thing.”

She laughed at him, teasingly: “Is it, Shadowsinger? A crush thing?”

“It’s so much more and you know it, Berdara.” He answered in the same tone, but he knew by the way she swallowed once that she heard the husk in his voice, sensing the promise in his words.

Someone is near. Priestesses.

His shadows curled around his ear and he retreated a step, just enough to allow a casual distance between them. Gwyn turned her head to the sound of robes shuffling by, and looked at him again. “Care to join me?” She offered, nodding towards the cart with a loving smile.

“Gladly.”

They fell into a comfortable routine after Gwyn taught him how to shelve the books she cataloged and labeled; sometimes she hummed or sang something to herself, and it was usually at those times when he paused what he was doing, bewitched by her voice. Even the movements of the other Priestesses seemed to still when Gwyn sang, the whole world going quiet. Usually, though, she noticed the subtle halt in his movements after a few moments, and interrupted herself by laughing at his reaction.

If Azriel could exchange the work he did as a Spymaster to just label and store books with Gwyn the whole afternoon, he would. Even if he knew the importance of his work, he would trade everything in a heartbeat just to be with her. Or perhaps he really needed a break.

There was a time in which he thought his spying to be the only thing that he was meant to do. And there was so much in it that he disliked: the torture, the gore. But maybe… Maybe it was time for him to start making some changes. For his sake, and the ones he loved.

“What are you thinking about?”

Her quiet voice distracted him from his thoughts. He shook his head, shelving another book, and turned to her, finding her kind eyes staring straight back at him. “It’s nothing.”

“Az.” Gwyn reached for him, holding his hand in hers “You know you can tell me.”

“It’s just” He gazed at their joint hands and sighed “I did such bad things in the past, and have been doing it for so long… I'm tired of it.”

She lifted a hand and brushed her fingers against his skin, meeting his stare. “You did a lot of great things too, Azriel. Like helping your friends, your family, your people… And me.” She smiled, reassuringly. “You were the one who saved me that night all those nights ago, and then helped me stand up back on my feet every morning after it. You helped me become who I am today.”

Her tenderness broke him, touched a place inside him he was just starting to realize he had, and he took a deep breath before he took her hands in his, lifting them to meet his lips. The only possible reaction he could have to all that gentleness without allowing tears to fall; and he prayed to the Mother it could convey everything he felt.

The way Gwyn smiled and leaned in to softly kiss his cheek gave him his answer.

#awwwwwww #sorry it took me so long #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel and gwyn #post acosf #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fics #i live for gwynriel

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ipuckwithhockey · 4 years

Text

Earned- N. Patrick

a/n: This one gets angsty, oops. I’m on a NolPat thing right now, but when are we not? I’m honestly enjoying writing again, so I hope you guys enjoy this one!

warnings: angst, mentions of sex/oral sex, swearing, divorced parents, drinking (i think that’s it)

------

Nolan loved his friends and family, hockey, and even on occasion Travis Konecny. This was enough for him. He had his close-knit group that he surrounded himself with and that was all he needed. It’s not that he avoided getting attached to people, he just hadn’t found anyone that he felt was worth getting attached to. He was young and focused on his career. Love would come eventually. He just didn’t realize how soon ‘eventually’ would be until he met you.

You met Nolan at a Post Malone concert. Your friend Grace had gotten tickets through her job and you couldn’t just say no to floor seats for Posty. Your seats just so happened to be right next to Nolan, Travis, and Kevin Hayes. You recognized the hockey players instantly, but your best friend just recognized that TK was hot and definitely checking her out.

By the time Post was ending his show Grace was agreeing that the two of you would join the boys at a bar around the corner. You weren’t planning on going home with anyone that night, but Nolan Patrick was flirting with you and you were a woman of opportunity. So, you found yourself going home with a Flyers forward while your friend went home with another.

Grace was your polar opposite. She was an undying optimist, bubbly, and most notably a romantic. You on the other hand considered yourself a dedicated realist who was levelheaded and decisive. The thought of finding someone to spend the rest of your life with almost made you laugh. You had no interest in settling for a mediocre relationship that would eventually combust or at best, just fizzled out.

The first night you went home with Nolan was supposed to be the only night you went home with Nolan, but just like the tale as old as time, it was far from a one time occurrence. Grace and TK kept seeing each other and their big personalities actually seemed to mesh well. Grace was happy and you were happy that she was happy. What you weren’t totally sure about was that their blossoming relationship meant you found yourself in the same room as Nolan more often than not. A couple of drunken nights together turned into a habit neither one of you seemed to mind.

Nolan was just as aloof as you when it came to romanticism. That was what you told yourself was the reason why you kept letting yourself fall into his bed every weekend. When he started texting you to come over out of the blue instead of your usual drunken hookups you decided it was time to lay down the law.

“Ok, so just to be clear, because I don’t want to be the reason for any broken hearts and more importantly, I don’t need any lost Flyers games weighing on me, this is just sex. Like we’re not going to be those stupid kids that say it’s just sex but then end up falling madly in love. I don’t do that, and from what I’ve gathered, you don’t do that either. So, if this is going to happen again, or keep happening, then it’s strictly business.” You’re barely even looking at Nolan as you explain your position. He had quite aggressively ripped your clothes from your body when you arrived at his place tonight and you can’t seem to locate your second sock as you scour his room.

Nolan was still laying naked on his bed, catching his breath, as he watched you in your adopted routine of rushing out of his apartment. He had met girls who were okay with a quick hookup with a famous NHL player, but you were different. You were bold and definitive. You weren’t here because he’s famous, you were here because the sex was good, and that’s why Nolan was here too.

Nolan didn’t make a habit out of hooking up with the same girls more than a couple of times, max. If you hadn’t been so good in bed and so open to just having sex, he probably wouldn’t have entertained the idea at all. You couldn’t deny that having Nolan between your legs a few times a week wasn’t a good thing. In fact, it was a great thing. Nolan might not spend much time talking, but he definitely knows how to use his mouth. You both left each other at the end of the night tired and satisfied, and that didn’t seem like a bad thing.

“Mkay. I promise I won’t fall in love with you. My track record is pretty good, so if you need references, I can probably get you their numbers. They probably wouldn’t be thrilled about you calling to ask them about how I’m a heartless asshole, but you can give it a swing.” You can’t help but laugh as your brain deciphers the mumbles that just came from the half sleeping body in front of you.

The second or third time you hung out with the boys you were at a party. You were teasing Nolan about all the girls who were trying so hard to get his attention, and he replied that they probably wouldn’t try so hard if they knew how their short lived fling would end. He had a bad habit of accidentally leading girls on, thinking they were on the same wavelength but then being met with a pissed off girl who thought “they had something special.”

“Perfect. And if you somehow end up falling for my stunning good looks and amazing personality, just do me a favor and let me know so I can run for the hills.” And with that you gave him a wink and were out the door. Nolan couldn’t hold in the laugh that fell from his lips as he continued to take in the personality you had begun to share with him.

—————

It’s been two months since the two of you settled your business deal and things were good. Grace and TK had made it official and she insisted on bringing you with her to team gatherings and games. You and Nolan went over to each other’s places when the other called or texted, and the sex was still as good as it was the first time.

The two of you developed a friendship and your post sex talks began to last a little longer on topics that were just a little deeper than the time before. Nolan would ask you about the douche that likes to hit on you at work and you would ask him how hockey was going. Then he told you about his sisters and and eventually told you a little more about his migraines. When it felt right you would ask him questions that he always provided thoughtful answers to. Nolan Patrick was much more pensive than you initially thought. To be honest you hadn’t really given his personality much thought at all, but as you got to know him you realized his aloof exterior was maybe just misinterpreted.

To his surprise Nolan genuinely liked spending time with you. Unlike most people, you weren’t constantly urging him to be “more social” or outgoing, and even though you were using each other’s bodies for sex, you weren’t greedy. You didn’t ask too much of him or expect certain things because of who he was. He felt like he could breathe around you because he wasn’t constantly trying to satisfy any unattainable expectations.

Even when he talked to you about hockey, he felt like he was just talking about any old 9-5 job; zero pressure to perform for you. You would ask him how it was going even though you already watched the games, and you would let Nolan guide the conversation to where he was comfortable. In many ways Nolan did the same for you. He didn’t press about why you didn’t have a boyfriend or why you didn’t want one. He did query over why you gracefully steered the conversation away from your family. He didn’t pry into things that were too personal, that for some reason, so many people thought they were entitled to.

There was a level of respect present between you that neither of you had experienced with anyone else. In both of your past relationships people always wanted to go fast, immediately trying to see if you were compatible. You and Nolan were just friends having sex with no other expectation, and somehow that allowed the two of you to slowly peel back each other’s layers.

You were oblivious to all of this until one night when your post sex talk didn’t come after sex. It came before. Well, actually the conversation came but neither of you did that night. You were at Nolan’s after a game that hadn’t gone as well as they had hoped. He was tired and you could see it in his eyes. Instead of jumping each other’s bones as soon as he greeted you at the door, you cracked a bottle of wine and settled on the couch.

It was nice. It was two friends having conversation over a bottle of wine. You didn’t talk about hockey or work; it was just talking about nothing. You talked about the lady who gave you one of her extra coupons at the grocery the other day. He explained how he made a sweater once in home ec. ( You’re still not sure if you believe him.)

A couple of hours later, and halfway into your second bottle of wine, Nolan’s curiosity got the best of him.

“So, is there a reason you’re so anti relationship or are you just a serial heart breaker like me?”

Once he asked the question, he realized that he probably shouldn’t have. You hadn’t talked about it before and that probably meant you didn’t want to. You were surprised but his smug joke still made you laugh. Normally you would be a little annoyed by the question, but you felt like you knew Nolan. You knew he wasn’t just trying to get to the juicy part, he just genuinely wanted to know, so you told him.

“Well, if you must know, I am most definitely a serial heart breaker, but that’s just a result of why I’m not thrilled about relationships, not the actual why.”

You take a breath before going on, “My parent’s marriage was horrible. They fought constantly and I don’t think I ever saw them genuinely happy together. They insisted on staying together. Their families, my grandparents, were both pretty ‘well-to-do’ and I’m pretty sure my parents were just staying together to save face with them and their circle of rich friends. I’m not sure why, because none of their marriages seemed any different. They’re all divorced now, and remarried to even shittier people. But before that, it became more of a game than anything else. — it started getting bad when I was in middle school.”

You look out the window in front of you. Through it, you can see the city of Philadelphia. A city you came to for college, with the hopes of leaving your old life behind.

“My mom started to go out to the country club and wherever else, and then she’d come home in the middle of the night, drunk, after doing god knows what or god knows who. My dad would go on business trips just to get away, and I’m pretty sure he was cheating on my mom too at that point. I never really saw them, and when I did they were always fighting. We didn’t have fun holidays and if my brother wasn’t there no one was in the stands cheering me on at my soccer games. Hell, by that point I preferred no holidays and no parents at my games. They didn’t care about me or my brother, and once Caleb went off to college I was on my own. I don’t blame him, I got out as fast as I could too. All we had was each other and we were always close. He’s in New York now, and we still talk pretty regularly, but being at home alone sucked, and being home alone with them sucked even more. I wasn’t always so pessimistic; I’ve dated a handful of guys but obviously they never worked out. Then I met a guy in college, and I thought wow this guy is unbelievable. He was perfect— Josh was his name. He was in grad school and he was smart and funny and said all the right things. I was young and naive, and I think I just wanted someone to love me, so I let him. And I let him take advantage of my time and energy. I let him lie to me and I let him cheat on me. And when I finally woke up from whatever trance I was in I realized that I had been looking at the world through rose colored glasses. I promised myself that I was never going to let myself do that again. I wasn’t going to rely on anyone but myself… I wasn’t going to give all of myself to someone just to wait for it to fall apart… The proof was in the pudding, relationships just don’t work, and that is why I’m so anti-relationship.”

You hadn’t looked Nolan in the eyes since you started in on your monologue, afraid that you may have just scared off your friend. Nolan was still taking it all in, reveling over the years of your life you had just laid out for him.

He had grown up in a loving family where his parents did everything they could to give him and his sisters the perfect childhood. They spent every weekend driving around Canada for hockey tournaments. He still talks to his sisters almost every day even though they’re thousands of miles away. His mom insists on carry out whatever holiday traditions she can even with Nolan in Philly. And here you were with a childhood that couldn’t have been more different than his. He didn’t want a relationship because he couldn’t find anyone he felt was worthy of his time and energy, but here you were, closed off to the world because you thought that unconditional love wasn’t real.

He didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything he could say, so instead he pulled you from your side of the couch to his, where he wrapped you up in his warm arms. You sat like that for a long time, not saying anything, not even moving, just letting him hold you. You didn’t even realize you had started crying until you felt Nolan’s hands wipe away the tears that were staining your face, and that small gently gesture was what made you snap. That’s when it boiled over, when it became too much too fast.

“I’m sorry... God. I shouldn’t have even said anything. And now I’m crying like a fucking idiot. It’s probably just the wine. It’s late, I should get going. Just forget I said anything, ok?”

And just like that you had grabbed your coat, faceted your shoes, and were out the door of his apartment. Nolan’s brain couldn’t keep up with yours and by the time he heard his door slam shut it was too late to tell you that everything was okay.

—————

Nolan tried calling you after that night, but he couldn’t get a hold of you. You couldn’t talk to him. You knew you couldn’t look him in the eyes, because for a couple of seconds you got too comfortable, you let go and let him in. It was a mistake, and Nolan would surely know that too. You had both decided this was just a transaction of sex, nothing more. You were the one who took it past that. You could have just brushed off the question that Nolan was surely regretting now.

Nolan was regretting asking that question, but not because he didn’t want to know. He regretted it because you were gone now, and he didn’t know how to get you back. You had both promised not to fall in love, not to affect each other’s lives, but that’s exactly what happened. Nolan was in love with you.

Kevin had to spell it out for Nolan as he sat on his couch explaining what had happened. Nolan knew he cared about you, but he hadn’t deciphered what that feeling in the pit of his stomach was when he saw you. He couldn’t explain why he had to constantly rub the back of his neck in nervousness when he caught you staring from across the room. He didn’t know what any of it meant.

“Dude. I’m dumb. Like I’m big-Boston-hockey-dude dumb, but you’re an idiot. You’re in love with her man.”

“What? We’re friends, I’m just worried about her.”

“Well, she’s in love with you too.”

“It’s just sex.”

“If you were just friends, and if it was just sex, you guys would be fucking right now, and you wouldn’t be mopping here on Saturday night because she told you about her life and won’t talk to you now. She wouldn’t have told you that shit, and she wouldn’t be ignoring you now if she didn’t have feelings for you. You said it yourself, she doesn’t let people in, but she let you in.”

She let me in. That’s all Nolan could think. Maybe Kevin had a point. Maybe he did love her. Maybe you somehow loved him too. Nolan couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. A couple days later he was getting more comfortable with all the reasons he loved you, but he still couldn’t figure out why you would love him.

He loved you because you were unwavering, absolute, and even a bit brazen. Over time Nolan had found that underneath that outside shell there was so much more. There was a girl who if you were patient and gentle, she might just let you in a little bit at a time. She unveiled her scars and her wounds, and Nolan was going to do anything he could to help them heal. He didn’t know that the feelings you were denying were nearly identical to the ones he was having right now.

It’s been two weeks since you spoke to Nolan. You had also been ignoring Grace and Travis’ attempts to figure out what the hell was going on. You were telling yourself it was fine, and that everything would blow over. What you didn’t expect to see was a large body sitting in front of your apartment door when you got home from work.

“What are you doing here?” You didn’t meet his eyes as his towering frame rose from the floor. You kept your eyes fixed on your purse as you fished out the keys to your door, and as you stuck them into the door you weren’t sure if you should slam the door behind you or turn to listen to what he had to say.

“I know that you think I’m gonna be like every other guy, and I’m gonna use you or hurt you, and maybe I will, but if you let me try, I’ll try my hardest to never let that happen because it would break me to break you. I don’t need you to give me every piece of yourself right now, I don’t want it right now— “

You scoffed. For an apology or a speech or whatever it was you were listening to, it didn’t seem to be going too well.

“-I don’t want it right now, because I know I don’t deserve it. It has to be earned. Trust is earned and I just want you to give me the chance to earn it. I know what it’s like to feel like you can’t share yourself with people because you think they’ll be disappointed or throw it away because it’s not what they wanted. But that’s not what this is. I’m a huge idiot and I didn’t realize this until recently, but I trust you. I totally and completely trust you. I can’t say that about many people, but I can say that about you. You’ve earned it. I’ve let you into parts of my life and you’ve welcomed them. You brought me closer, and for the first time in a long time I didn’t want to run away. I’m not going to say it, because I know you need time, I know that if we do this, we have to take it slow, but I think you know how I feel about you because you feel the same way about me. Or at least I really really hope you do, because I’m totally falling for you amazing personality and stunning good looks.”

Nolan is practically out of breath after the word vomit that has escaped his mouth. You’re taking it all in. You’re taking him in, and you can’t help but let a smile creep onto your face. Nolan somehow put everything you didn’t know you needed into words and you still didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you pulled him close to you and wrapped your short arms around his torso as you felt his own engulf your body. You both melted into each other and for the first time in weeks felt like you could breathe.

Neither of you were sure what was going to happen next, and how this would unfold, but you were willing to give him a chance. You were willing to let him show you what this could be, what you could be together, because you had both earned it.

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick imagine #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfic #hockey writing #Hockey Fanfiction #Philadelphia Flyers

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chatonne-rousse · 3 years

Text

Orange You Glad I'm Not Seeing Green (Nope, Totally Not Jealous At All)

A continuation of my Gifts from the Heart series, the whole of which is written as a gift for my dear friend @sketchy-panda.

Read it on Ao3 here.

Follows Great Minds (and Kind Hearts) Think Alike, which can be found here.

*********

The first forty-two minutes had gone so well.

Marinette was acting weird, but a normal, endearing weird - the kind of weird that warms his chest with affection and makes him smile. There is no one quite like her, and Adrien knows her friendship is a sweet blessing indeed. Even if it takes a moment or two to decipher her jumbled sentences sometimes. Even if she's a teeny tiny bit of a disaster.

When Ms. Bustier had paired them up for a literature project, he was thrilled. Adrien would never scoff at the chance to spend time with his dear friend, much less to enjoy a window of escape, however short, from the echoing silence of his own home. He'd turned to her with unabashed excitement to find her cheeks and ears pink and a strange mix of joy and terror in her eyes.

"Yay!" she'd squeaked, the word accompanied by awkward jazz hands. This had prompted a nudge under the table from Alya that didn't escape his notice. With that, she'd taken a deep breath, set her shoulders, and asked if he'd like to come over after school to work on it together.

Would he ever! The wave of happiness that had risen in his chest must have shown on his face, but when Marinette's smile had softened to match, he realized he didn't care if he grinned like a fool in front of the class. An afternoon with a friend - a friend! - was such a rare treat. And he's already read The Three Musketeers, so he'd been sure this would be a breeze.

And it was. Until six minutes ago, when they realized that the plate of cookies they'd been snacking on had dwindled to one. This discovery came by way of both of them reaching for it without looking, hands meeting over the plate amidst blushing cheeks and murmured apologies. With an awkward laugh, he'd taken the final cookie, carefully broken it roughly in half, and offered the slightly larger piece to his wide-eyed project partner.

Their fingers brushed in the handoff. She breathed a thank you. He smiled graciously.

It all happened so quickly after that.

Before he could take a bite of his cookie, her elbow had knocked into her glass, sending orange juice across her desk, her lap, his stocking feet.

"Disaster!" Marinette had shrieked, prompting Mrs. Cheng to peek through the open trap door a few moments later, looking first at her daughter dancing frantically around her now-toppled desk chair and then to a bewildered Adrien, still holding half a cookie in one hand and Marinette's keyboard, rescued from the rogue wave of orange juice, in the other.

She'd just smiled. "I'll bring up some towels, dears."

Adrien could only nod.

Now, Marinette stands in front of her sink, wiping the front of her pants with a damp towel and sighing every thirty seconds. He's barefoot, his socks whisked off to parts unknown, ostensibly to be laundered, though he'd protested that wasn't necessary. Their cookie and juice supply has been refilled, and calm has settled over the room again. Sort of.

"I'm so sorry, Adrien," she says quietly, a tinge of misery at the edge of her voice. "I'm so clumsy."

He tries to make her smile the best way he knows how. "It's okay, Marinette. Orange you glad it didn't get on your drawings for the project?"

She stops trying to clean off her jeans and raises her eyes to his. "Did you just...?"

His eyes gleam. "You know, workers in the orange juice factory will lose their jobs if they can't concentrate."

Her surprised giggle is incredibly gratifying. He takes it as a green light to continue. "Do you know what language oranges use to talk to each other?" When she shakes her head, he gleefully answers, "Mandarin!"

"You'd fit right in, then!" Marinette laughs heartily, the sound making his grin widen until it hurts. (It's worth it.)

"Well, I am very a-peeling. I have a real zest for life."

She groans, though she's still laughing, and facepalms with the hand holding the towel. Adrien watches as she realizes how sticky it is against her face, throws it on the counter, and blushes when she makes eye contact with him once more. His own smile never dims. Making a friend laugh like this is one of life's great joys. Laughing with a friend like this is one of the greatest.

Finally, she washes her hands at the sink and he takes a moment to right her desk chair, gazing around the room to the sound of her drying her hands. Magazine photos of him still remain, though they mix on corkboards and wall collages with pictures of friends and family. His own face smiles - truly smiles - back at him from several of them. He remembers each of these days, shining memories with beloved friends that he treasures. He's glad Marinette treasures them, too.

His gaze slides to the corner of her desk, near her sewing machine and a large box he assumes is full of sewing notions, and his breath catches. There, on twin display stands to keep them upright, are two figurines he doesn't know how he missed earlier. Ladybug holds her yo-yo in her right hand, Chat Noir's baton is held in his left. Their tiny plastic hands clasp in the middle, just as they were molded to do for the 1st Anniversary Special Partners Edition figures he would know anywhere.

Marinette sits back down in her desk chair, looks at him, then follows his gaze to the figurines. Adrien turns his eyes to her.

"I didn't know you were a superhero fan, Marinette!"

She laughs a nervous laugh as a blush rises to her cheeks. "Me? A fan of Chat Noir? Psssh." She waves a hand as if to dismiss the idea.

He isn't sure if he should be offended or gratified. He'd certainly prefer the latter.

"Why wouldn't you be a fan? I am. I think the heroes are awesome."

"You do?" she breathes, eyes wide.

"Of course! Paris is lucky," he elbows her arm gently and winks, "to have them."

Her giggle makes him smile again. He always feels so light and so carefree here, in her warm home, with her friendly parents and a plate of cookies and the sweetness she seems to radiate in his presence. Paris is lucky to have superhero protectors, but he's lucky in his own way to have found this kind of gentle contentment in a world denied to him for so long.

"I guess we should get back to the project--"

"Where did you get them?"

They each speak at the same time, twin blushes and stammered apologies following just as with the cookie incident.

Marinette breaks the ensuing awkward silence first. "One of my best friends gave them to me."

"I'm not surprised," Adrien responds with a grin. "Alya might be the biggest fan in Paris!"

The blush on her cheeks spreads to the tips of her ears and her eyes widen before she blinks. "Oh, um...it wasn't Alya." Marinette looks at her hands in her lap and then back up to him. "But she does have this set. She's kind of obsessed."

Strange, he'd never heard about any other best friends from Nino or Alya, though that didn't mean Marinette didn't have a very close online friend or someone in the design community she just hadn't talked much about before. He hopes this person knows what a good friend she has in Marinette, that she treasures her like Marinette deserves to be treasured. Though of course she'd gifted her with the set of figurines, so this friend at least knows quality merch when she sees it. Adrien's heart warms at the thought of Marinette having such good friends. She deserves nothing less.

"Adrien? Are you okay?"

He blinks twice, shaking himself from his reverie. "Oh. Yeah. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You were far away for a minute there."

He smiles warmly. Marinette is so thoughtful. "I promise. I was just thinking what a great best friend she must be to have given you such a cool gift."

"Oh," she says quietly, looking at the figures again, though Adrien is still focused on his friend. He watches as her eyes soften and her smile turns gentle before she speaks again. "He definitely is. There's no one better."

Her gaze snaps to his again. "I mean! I'll bet you're better! At being hot. I mean cool! I mean..." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "So! The Three Musketeers, eh?" She pulls her notebook back in front of her and opens it to a random page that contains nothing having to do with Alexandre Dumas. She laughs nervously, resolutely staring at the page and not the boy beside her.

The boy who hasn't breathed since her quiet "oh." The boy whose brain is still stuck on one word.

He.

Adrien can feel his smile turn brittle at the edges and forces his face to remain neutral, but it's difficult all of a sudden.

It shouldn't bother him. It shouldn't affect him at all. Marinette is friends with Nino, Kim, and Max, and he doesn't think twice about it. Why should he? This is different, though, somehow. An unknown entity. A boy friend he's never heard of who makes her expression soften like that, with memories of private jokes and gift exchanges and laughter. Probably. That's probably what it's like with Marinette and her other best friend, who isn't Alya and whose name he doesn't know.

An odd feeling twists his stomach. Adrien doesn't like it.

"Well," he starts, sliding his own notebook over and opening to the last page they'd been working on before the orange juice spill, "he has very good taste in Ladybug and Chat Noir merchandise. I have that same set myself."

"You do?" she squeaks, and their eyes meet again.

"I do. But I didn't take mine out of the packaging." He chances a cheeky half-smile at her, the knot in his stomach loosening just a fraction at the smile she returns. "Mine will be pristine when the set is worth millions someday."

When she laughs, the tension in his chest dissipates like springtime dandelion seeds, floating away on a sudden breeze of fresh, sweet joy.

Maybe Marinette's mysterious best friend can make her laugh like this, but right now, Adrien is the one sitting beside her - something rare and precious and not to be taken for granted - and it makes no sense to do anything other than enjoy the moment.

#gifts from the heart series #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrien 👏 loves 👏 marinette 👏#but he's not jealous at all #why would he be?#gift fic #love you sketchy!#miraculous ladybug #ml fan fiction #ml fic #my writing

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crystaljins · 4 years

Text

River lead me home | 09 FINAL

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 5k

Synopsis: Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: Ahhh. We’re finally here. At the ending.

I feel like so much happened since I started writing this fic. I’ve been through so many ups and downs, and so have my characters. And you guys are probably the same; I wonder what adventures you guys went on as I posted this? I hope they were fun ones.

Anyway, thank you for sticking around for this long journey home. I hope you enjoy the final chapter, and I hope you enjoyed following these guys on their adventure.

Till next time, my loves.

Tags: @blue1928 @veeparkersstuff

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

It’s a long journey home. The three of you stay with the mice long enough to see the first of the recovered victims poke their little noses out of their burrows. The mayor, a harried, round little mouse with hay coloured fur and absurdly long whiskers, cannot express his gratitude deeply enough, other than to procure the three of you a comfortable stay in a nearby inn.

The journey back is only slightly less fraught with danger. The Saishtas think the two of you are dead, and not long after you part ways with the mice, new begins to circulate in the local areas that the might, evil Saishta queen has died and that her kingdom has fallen into disarray. You come across one or two of the insidious lizardpeoples after that but none of them approach or acknowledge you. Why bother, when they failed to save their queen?

After hearing that news, it’s more of a relaxed journey. You all head on from town to town, purchasing supplies and another bed roll for Jungkook. Jin is strangely eager to spend what little currency you have on the most comfortable bedroll he can find, and when Jungkook suggests he just continues to share in the interest of saving funds, Jin nearly has an aneurysm.

Jin’s behaviour is probably the strangest part of the journey. He’s not cold or standoffish like he normally is when having a crisis, but he’s definitely gentler. More reserved but also warmer. It’s not unwelcome. In fact, you can’t help but wonder. If the war had never come, would this be the life you had with Jin? Endless adventures amongst the thrilling dangers of your home realm?

You bring the thought up to Jin and Jungkook one night, while the three of you huddle together over a fire, snacking on some of the dried meats you’d purchased from the last town.

Jin looks surprised at the thought.

“I’ve always thought it would be you and Taehyung going on the big adventures.” He points out. “The two of you were never able to hold still, even for a moment.” His smile is warm and fond as he recalls your childhood.

“You’d have been dragged along.” Jungkook counters through a particularly chewy mouthful. “You’d probably be married to (Y/N) and forced to follow her around keep her out of trouble.”

Oddly, you expect Jin to flush, or protest, or attempt to strangle Jungkook. You certainly feel a bit flushed at the thought. But Jin is unfazed- he merely offers a secretive smile and tilts his head curiously at you. You couldn’t decipher the look if you tried, but it has your throat feeling tight.

You change the conversation topic after that, but it’s not the only way that Jin has changed. A few days later, the three of you are attempting to cross a little slippery creek when you lose your footing.

You stumble over a few rocks and land on your hands and knees. Even in the deepest part of the creek it only comes up to your mid-thighs when you are on all fours.

Jin skids to a stop beside you, crouching before you in the water. He doesn’t seem to care about the way his clothes become soaked.

“Are you hurt?” He demands. You take stock of your injuries- a scraped knee, a bruised shin, the palms of your hands rubbed raw. Nothing that won’t be gone in an hour or two.

“I’m fine.” You reassure him.

He nods awkwardly for a moment and then offers “I could kiss it better?”

It takes you a few blinks to comprehend his words, and even then, it makes you re-evaluate the severity of your injuries.

“What?” You demand, shocked. He shrugs and looks away.

“Like when we were kids. I could kiss it better. You used to always refuse to stop crying until I kissed you. We could try that again.” He offers nonchalantly. You must have hit your head. It’s the only explanation. You can only stare, your mouth dropped into an “o”.

“I guess that’s a no.” Jin finally says, oddly sulky in the way he says it. “Just thought I’d offer.”

You wish you could say that it’s the strangest of his behaviour, but it’s not. The rest of the journey goes like that- if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think Jin was flirting. Albeit, in a weirdly awkward, tentative way. Even Jungkook notices it.

“Do you think he’s finally gone mad? Maybe the extreme social media detox has made all his brain cells shrivel up and die.” Jungkook whispers conspiratorially one night while the two of you wonder a small village that is throwing a little festival. Colourful lanterns line the streets and the various creatures that inhabit the village are dressed in bright colours. Jin had decided to stay back at the inn but the two of you had wanted to explore.

“It’s the only logical explanation.” You concede, as much as it physically pains you to agree with Jungkook in anything.

“All I have to say is, if this is how he flirts I have no idea how he gets so many dates.” Jungkook laments, and your eyes widen.

“Stop.” You laugh. “He’s not flirting. It’s Jin. He thinks of me like an unwanted houseplant.”

“What if he didn’t, though?” Jungkook asks suddenly. His gaze is probing, and the mood is oddly serious for what you thought was a joking conversation.

“What?” You ask, caught off-guard.

“What if he’s actually flirting? Hypothetically. What would you do?” He questions.

You go silent, as you contemplate your answer. Honestly, you’re not stupid enough to entertain the thought of Jin liking you back. But something about Jungkook’s earnestness has you genuinely considering it.

“I don’t know.” You finally admit. You sigh, suddenly feeling tired.

“Can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks, tentative and almost gentle. He tilts his head curiously. “Do you like him?”

The question startles you. It feels like it’s been so long since you came to term with your feelings that you forgot not everyone else was aware of your revelation. Honestly, even to yourself it had filtered to the back of your mind. An unchanging fact, rarely acknowledged. The sky is blue. Jungkook is annoying. You are in love with Kim Seokjin.

“I do.” You finally admit. You’re reaching the end of the street where most of the festivities are taking place- the crowd is thinning and more distance separates each lantern.

“Then, if he were flirting... wouldn’t the answer be that you’d date him?” Jungkook asks. He’s pulling a face like he’s working out a rather complex maths problem. “Why don’t you know what you’d do?”

The two of you settle at the end of the street. Roughly hewn chairs are scattered randomly across the little square. In the corner, a large, greyish being snoozes, and a small group of little humanoid trees laugh over something and chatter in a foreign language.

“I feel like there’s too much to sort out first. Like... to date him I’d have to be better. I’d have to have a job. And I’d have to have apologised to my mother. I’d need to stop spongeing off the people around me. And maybe live out of home. Be a proper, human adult.” You list. “The me that I am now... I couldn’t date Jin. I’m not... I’m not...”

“Good enough?” Jungkook finishes the words gently. There’s a sad look in his eyes, and it surprises you.

You nod.

“Yeah.” You admit, and your voice is oddly choked. It’s weird- you had thought you were at peace with your feelings. You were meant to be happy with whatever scraps of affection Jin threw your way. But you’re not- there’s a deep, miserable ache in your chest that won’t go away.

Jungkook uses his sleeves to dab at the tears you didn’t even know were slipping down your cheeks.

“For what it’s worth,” Jungkook offers. “Jin doesn’t actually care about that stuff. The only reason he makes a big deal out of it is because he thinks you’ll be happy if all that stuff works out.” He tells you. “And hey. Someone once told me that the best things are the scariest to start- maybe this is one of those times?”

After that, you call it a night, and Jungkook doesn’t bring the topic up again. But you can’t forget his words. The closer to the portal the three of you draw, the more the ache in your chest grows; the closer you get to going back to normal life. What happens to you and Jin when you step back into the human realm?

What if Jungkook’s words are true? Would you... would you have to return to normal? Could you have more? Is it stupid that a part of your stupid, traitorous heart longed for it to be true with each new step towards home?

There’s a surefire way to find out; if you ask him. But you can’t. The words die in your throat every time you even consider it. You remember how he freaked out when Jungkook suggested it earlier on the trip. He likely already knows your feelings despite your denial, and it is only your constant denial otherwise that allows the two of you to exist in this strange limbo. If you stopped denying them, he’d have to address those feelings and then what? It would be back to square one- the avoidance and awkwardness as you cling to the shambles of your friendship.

You can’t go back to that- you’ve fought so hard to fix what is between you, to salvage things. Would it be worth risking it, just in the hopes that you and Jin could be more?

The night before you reach the portal, all the nerves and worries you have build up to the point that you find yourself gazing up listlessly at the canopy overhead. The branches interlace and you can perk glimpses of the stars beyond. This is the last glimpse you will get of these stars. You have already decided you won’t come back here. It’s time to stop looking back and only look forward.

Yet, despite your resolve, despite everything, sleep evades you. Tomorrow, real life awaits. An existential sort of dread has gripped you.

With a sigh, you sit up. To your right, Jungkook has curled into a tight ball as he peacefully rests. But to your surprise, Jin’s bedroll is empty. You’re surprised you didn’t hear him move.

It doesn’t take long to locate him. Only a short distance away, where the vegetation is a bit lighter and a clear patch of sky shimmers overhead, Jin lounges peacefully. He gazes thoughtfully up at the sky overhead as the starlight gilds his face in breathtaking silver.

Wordlessly, you step towards him. A twig snaps beneath your feet and Jin whirls around in surprise. When he spots you, he smiles and gentle pats the open space beside him.

Awkwardly, you settle beside him, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He questions, his eyes closed serenely. The soft sound of wind and distant sounds of wildlife filters through the night air.

“Yeah,” you admit, your voice heavy with a sigh. He blinks open one eye to peer curiously at you. It’s the most relaxed and open you’ve seen him in a long time. “What about you? You couldn’t sleep either?”

Jin shrugs.

“I could have.” He informs you. “But I thought I’d enjoy my last night in this realm instead.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. Jin has made it clear throughout the trip that this journey has been anything but enjoyable.

“Enjoy?” You say, only slightly incredulous. He nods and opens both eyes to stare up the sky.

“I’m as shocked as you.” He concedes. “This place has only ever meant bad things to me. It’s why I could never understand your fixation with it.”

You grimace.

“I kind of get it now, though.” He admits, before you can complain to him. “It’s a pretty beautiful place.”

“What changed your mind?” You ask, your curiosity piqued. Jin shrugs.

“You did.” He answers simply.

“M-me?” You’re not sure why you stutter; perhaps it is the strange look to his eyes as he turns fully to face you. He pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his cheek against them, watching you lazily.

“Yup.” He says, as if it’s the easiest confession in the world. “When I used to think about this place, all I could think about was the night we fled. My dad didn’t even time to wash the blood off his hands. He grabbed me by the wrist and held on so tight I had bruises. I didn’t want to remember that. I didn’t want to remember the place that had caused us so much pain. And you... you were such a shell. I felt like one of my best friends had died in this realm and I was so angry at what it had taken from me.” His gaze is distant with recollection. “And then I was mad at you, because you couldn’t forget no matter what I did.” He gazes at you. “But now it’s finally given me something.”

You’re startled, by his heartfelt words. You’ve always known Jin hated this realm, hated the way the beings of this realm had driven you all out. But you didn’t know you had such a huge role in his opinion of it. “You.” He finishes. “So I guess I can’t really hate this place after all.”

You’re struck speechless in that moment, and your heart swells with an overwhelming feeling. You already know you love the man before you, but in that moment, you’re shocked at just how much. A feeling bubbles up at the base of your chest- your heart feels fit to burst.

“What do you mean?” You ask- is this feeling hope? What does Jin mean, when he says the realm gave him you?

Jin merely shrugs.

“I’ll let you speculate.” He tells you, shooting you a coy smile, an oddly cheeky look that he’s given to his friends before but never to you. But then his expression shifts into something more serious. “I think there are more pressing things to discuss first, though. Like why you’re sitting here with me instead of sleeping?”

The warm feeling from earlier instantly evaporates as you recall the reason for your melancholy.

“I guess I’m just nervous.” You confess. “About going home. I’ve... I’ve really enjoyed this trip. And I’m excited to go home. But I’m just so...” you struggle to find the word. “So...”

“Nervous?” Jin suggests. He shuffles so he’s just a bit closer. His shoulder brushes yours- if you extended your neck, you could rest your head against his broad shoulders. A strange electricity buzzes through your body at the thought- it reminds you of your fight over the fungus a few days ago. The air had felt strangely charged then as well.

“Yeah.” You admit, swallowing past a dry throat. “There’s a lot to do, back home.”

“Back home?” Jin echoes, and then his smile turns warm. His mouth carefully forms the word “home” and his eyes wrinkle into two joyous crescent moon shapes. “I guess there is.” He acknowledges. “But you’ve already made the first step. You’re calling the human realm home.”

That startles you. Obviously, it is your home. But you hadn’t realised how instinctive that had become until this moment; at some point the human realm had stopped being that uncomfortable alien place, and had become the place you’re meant to go back to. Home. Jin watches you process the words carefully before he speaks again.

“You don’t have to be nervous.” He tells you softly. The tone to his voice is oddly vulnerable and delicate. Something delicate hovers between you like the flutter of a pixie’s wing. “You said you wanted to work things out together, right? So, you don’t have to be nervous because I’ll be there with you.”

He looks away and his expression is surprisingly shy. “I know you said I don’t have to be the guy with it all worked out, but I still want to try. It makes me happy. Being there for you. So even if you’re nervous... we’ll work it out together, right?”

It is that exact moment that you figure it out. Earlier, you had been uneasy at Jungkook’s line of questioning. You didn’t feel worthy of Jin’s love and affection, and that made you afraid. Because you couldn’t bear to lose him. You still can’t bear to lose him. But gazing into the warm eyes before you, you know you won’t ever lose him. The two of you have braved death together- you’ll make it through anything.

You feel lighter then, and you offer Jin a smile.

“Thank you.” You whisper. Jin smiles back.

“Any time.” He whispers back to you in answer.

Sleep comes easily after that, and so too does the end of your journey. All too soon you stand before the portal back home.

The trip feels like it’s taken a thousand years and no time at all at the same time. By your calculation, the entire journey has taken almost a month, with all the detours and misadventures. That means almost six hours have passed in the human realm. Jin has almost definitely missed his dinner plans, and your mother is probably starting to wonder why you aren’t home yet.

“What will you do, when you go back?” Jin asks. Jungkook has already stepped through and you’re surprised that Jin is making conversation now, of all times.

“Apologise to my mother.” You say easily. “What about you?”

“I’m going to save my snapchat streaks and apologise to Joon.” Jin shares. He’s nervously twisting his fingers together. The energy he gives off is like an uneasy teenager about to do a huge public speech. It’s a big contrast from the person her was last night. Like he’s bracing himself for something.

You thought you’d be bracing yourself too. On the other side is hard work and futile dreams and a bleary, dull city.

But on the other side is your mother, your friends, your family. Your evil cat waits for you on the other side; the life your father dreamed of for you is on the other side. You had thought that so much in your life is wrong, and now that the portal is here, you realise that it’s not. It’s just life. Things go wrong and things go right. Like the path of a river, cutting through the vast, unknown wilderness. You had been thinking of it this whole time like you’d flip a switch and things would be easy. But that’s not what it’s going to be like on the other side of this portal, and it’s not really what you want things to be like. It’s an adventure of a different kind.

And it’s an adventure that you want to share... with Jin.

You remember what Jungkook had said- the best things in life are the scariest to start. And you’re scared now. No, you’re terrified. But if you’re this scared, then you know that this moment is going to be huge. Life-changing. You can’t keep the words in a moment longer. You don’t want to. You’ve spent too long running and fearing and hesitating and overthinking. But you’re confident, that the two of you will survive this even if he doesn’t feel the same way, and you’re ready to take that risk.

The river loves those who take the plunge.

“Jin,” you call, and you thought that if you ever did this that you’d be lost for words. But you’re not. Because you’re finally ready. Last night had solidified that for you. The words come easily. “You remember how you said that I look at you a certain way?”

You turn and face him, and he looks bewildered.

“Like you’re my hero.” You recall. And then you steel yourself and meet his gaze. It’s the same eyes you’ve known all your life. The same eyes you want to look into for the remainder of your life. “It’s because you are my hero. No, actually, it’s more than that.” You assert, and he just stares, completely dumbstruck. “I look at you like that because I love you. Because I admire you and think you’re strong and brave and kind, and even if you’re not the guy who has it all together, I still feel the same way. And I lied when I said I just wanted you to be my friend. I thought it was enough, but it’s not- I want to be your partner. I want to be your best friend. I want to be your girlfriend.” You say. And then you summon all the exciting fluttering feels in your chest and let it pour into your smile. “I love you, Kim Seokjin.”

Before you stands something you never thought you’d see. Kim Seokjin, the mastermind behind the Jant, is completely speechless. And then slowly, very slowly, he opens his mouth to give a response.

“Are you dead?” Jungkook demands as the upper half of his body appears once more through the portal. “It’s been like 30 seconds in that realm which is approximately ten years in this realm if my maths is correct!”

You spring back from Jin. You’re startled at how far you have to step back- had you really been standing that close?

“R-right.” You stutter. You feel like you’ve been caught cheating on a diet or something equally scandalous. “We’re coming.”

Jin just looks annoyed.

“No we’re not. Give us a minute.” He snaps at Jungkook, placing a palm against Jungkook’s head and shoving him back through the portal none-too-gently. He then turns urgently back to you. “What did you just say?” He demands. His intensity has you cowering slightly- your bravado from earlier leaves you.

“I said “we’re coming”?” You recall, attempting to divert the topic, but Jin steps closer.

“No you didn’t. You said you love me. And that you want to be my girlfriend.” He accuses.

“If you knew, why did you ask me?” You grumble. And then your expression softens. “But yes. I did say that. And it’s ok if you don’t feel the same. I know you could have any girl you want and I won’t be mad if you want someone else.” You reassure him quickly. He just stares, offering you no indication of whether he’d processed your words. It’s uncomfortable, but you suppose your words were going to be uncomfortable. You’re changing the very nature of your relationship by voicing them aloud. “But if you were willing... maybe you could give me a chance?” You trail away.

Still, Jin just continues to look at you blankly. He looks like he’s a robot that just encountered a programming error. Hesitantly, you reach out to tap his shoulder, just to make sure he hasn’t died or suddenly been transformed into stone.

A hand shoots up. It grabs your wrist, halting its movements. Jin’s eyes bug out of his head.

“YOU’RE TELLING ME NOW?” He all but screeches. You flinch- you hadn’t anticipated a jant in response to your confession. “YOU HAD THE WHOLE TRIP TO SAY YOUR FEELINGS AND YOU SAY IT NOW? YOU COULDN’T HAVE WAITED ONE DAY?”

His nostrils flare as he releases your wrist so that he can point accusingly at you.

“You had all your chances! You could have said it on the way to the forest spirit! Or when the Saishtas were chasing us! Or when we landed in the ravine! You’ve had literally the whole trip and you wait until right before I’m going to confess?” He spits out in that rapid-fire way that you’ve never seen another person be able to replicate.

And then you process his words.

“Wait-“ you say, hoping to abort the jant so that you have enough time to comprehend what he’s saying.

It’s no use.

“Seriously! I had a whole plan, (Y/N)! We were going to go to dinner and I was going to buy you flowers and I was going to ease you into it! But no! You just had to beat me to it, and for what? For what? So that you can make a half-assed confession right before we step into an alley next to a brothel?” He laments.

“It’s not half-assed-“ you protest, because you’d poured your heart out to Jin.

He steps in menacingly.

“Take it back.” He demands. Your eyes widen.

“What?” You cry, defensively. To your credit, you only cower a little which is an impressive feat for someone on the receiving end of a jant.

“Your confession! Take it back!” He orders.

“No!” You argue back. “I’m not going to do that.”

“You are!” Jin counters. “You’re going to take it back and we’re going to do it properly, over dinner, and you’re going to have washed hair and I’m going to-“

You don’t let him finish whatever stupid thoughts were filtering through his brain. If he wants a proper, romantic confession, then he’s going to get one! You hear a sharp intake of breath from him as your lips press to his. They’re slightly chapped after such a long period of rough travel, but the sensation is still pleasant. Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel like you’re about to burst.

It takes Jin a moment to respond. But when he does, it’s with an intensity that is almost frightening. You’re startled by the way he pulls you close. It’s like the electricity from last night, but multiplied a hundred-fold. If you thought your heart was ready to burst before, it is nothing compared to the way molten lava fills your chest when his hands come up to gently cradle your face and deepen the kiss.

When you finally recall that oxygen is something you need, Jin pulls away and searches your gaze. His hands slide down to your waist, resting delicately along the flare of your hips. His face is bright red but his eyes are determined.

Something about the way he is looking at you has you feeling shy.

“That was weird, huh?” You stammer, trying to cover the way you feel so completely overwhelmed. “Sorry.” Your heart is dancing in your chest. It’s all too much for one person to feel and you’re just not really sure what to do with the sensation. Did he feel it too? This weird tension, like you’re a balloon about to pop?

Jin doesn’t break eye contact and his tongue darts out to moisten his lips.

“Hard to say.” He finally says, breaking his long spell of silence. He then grabs at either side of your face, puckering his lips obnoxiously. “I think we need to try again to be sure.”

You barely have time to protest before he’s attempting to pull you in for a second kiss, although you slap a hand over his mouth to halt his advance.

“Wait!” You accuse. “You can’t just kiss me and not respond to what I said!”

“I already told you.” He snaps. “Your confession doesn’t count until we do it properly. Now if you excuse me-“ He grabs you by the elbows and tugs you back towards him, attempting to kiss you once more, but you stop him with a hand pressed to his chest. His expression turns pleading. “Just one more time.” He requests.

You swallow, and gaze into his eyes. It’s not an unfamiliar look, you realise. He’s looked at you like this before, but you now realise what the emotion was behind that look.

“I love you.” You tell him. “I told you like this because yes. I couldn’t wait one more day. I don’t want to wait another day without you knowing. I love you.” You say one more time, just for good measure.

His expression crumbles and he sighs in resignation, before pulling you tightly against him. His embrace is warm, and secure. It’s no different from all the other times he’s hugged you in your life, and yet nothing is the same.

“Fine.” He says, into the crook of your neck. “But I’m not saying it back until we have a proper date.”

He pulls out of the hug and the love in his gaze is overwhelming. It’s not a confession, per se, but his intent is as clear as day.

He loves you. You know he does.

“Deal.” You say back, and his response is his eyes crinkling up as he offers you that special smile, the one that he only shows when he’s really, truly happy. “But you’re paying.”

“How about we save any important conversations for the side of the portal where we’re not in constant mortal danger?” Jungkook demands, his head once more poking through the portal. There’s an awkward silence as he glances between the two of you, and then he groans. “Seriously? You had the entire journey to sort this out and you waited until now? You couldn’t even just leave it until after dinner?”

“Sorry!” You apologise quickly, going to follow Jungkook’s lead through the portal. But a hand wrapped around your wrist stops you- you hadn’t even noticed Jin had grabbed you.

You turn to gaze questioningly at him, and he shrugs, shifting his hands until he can interlace his fingers with yours.

“Wait. Let’s go together.” He requests, then pauses. “Can we?”

Something about this moment feels monumental. Huge. You’ve braved enemy encampments, crossed mountains. You’ve gone free-falling into giant ravines and overcome furious forest spirits.

And yet this moment feels like the start to your biggest adventure yet. From this point on, real life starts. You smile at Jin and he returns it.

“Yeah.” You say. “Let’s go together.”

Jin’s reply is covered by Jungkook’s annoyed call through the portal:

“What did I just say? Hurry up!”

~Fin~

#castlebangtan #thebtswritersclub #kim seokjin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #writing

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