#This post is brought to you by having to do the one story mission with Panam

[nanpecan]

₊✩‧₊˚once more to see you˚₊✩‧₊

{nanami x f!reader}

˚₊✩‧₊summary: You're a manager at Jujutsu Kaisen and happen to get assigned to driving a rank 1 sorcerer you've had a crush on for a while. Everything seems to be going as normal until an interaction with a curse leaves him a little hot and bothered.

˚₊✩‧₊tags: nanami x fem!reader, explicit smut (mdni) !!

˚₊✩‧₊ word count: 5.6k

˚₊✩‧₊author's note: this has been in my head for so long and I guess its part one to a longer story but who knows if I'll ever get around to writing it, yet alone posting it. anyways first time, kinda nervous; this is super self indulgent and i'm not even sorry about it.

˚₊✩‧₊this is also kind of inspired by this Mitski song, hence the title. I love this song, I think it's very Nanami coded<3

˚₊✩‧₊all parts here! pt 2. pt 3. pt 4.

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An obsession. 

That’s what it was. 

A rush of emotion when you caught even the smallest glance of him. 

Always in a hurry. 

Always somewhere to be. 

Never paying any mind to you. 

This lifestyle was a rushed one and you hardly ever found time for yourself, but your mind always seemed to have a second to wonder about him. 

Was he safe? Was he injured?

You had heard about him through others. 

You had really only seen him in action from a distance, once, and very briefly. But that had been enough to develop this stupid crush. 

You were a busy body, nothing but a cushion to the real missions of importance. 

You had come to accept that you would never really matter past making it from point A to point B, with whatever message you had to deliver, or whoever you had to transport for the day. 

You were secretly content with the position. You had started because you wanted to make a difference. 

But you knew you were a coward. 

You had the spirit but lacked the physical strength to back it. And that made you afraid. 

“Nanami Kento.” 

Your hand stopped mid air as you reached for your phone. 

“I’m sorry?” You must have misheard. 

“You owe me one.” Akari said with a smirk. The head manager had been one of your closest friends since you had begun working as an assistant. You had similar pasts and were around the same age, so you had instantly clicked. She was very much aware of your infatuation even if you hadn’t directly expressed it. She could see right through you every time you tried to feign indifference whenever the topic of Nanami was brought up. 

“Nanami needs transportation to his next mission. He usually goes on his own, but the client insisted he gets driven to this location specifically.”  There was something suspicious about that last statement, but you dismissed it as she kept talking.  “Ijichi is busy dealing with something so it was passed down to me.” She smiled again and shrugged. “But I have some very important business to take care of so I’m passing it on to someone I trust is more than qualified to drive a sorcerer of his class.”  She winked at you. “Don’t worry about the briefing he’s been sent all the information. All you have to do is drive him there and back.” 

You looked down at your phone and tried to act nonchalant. Until you saw the details. “Today?” 

She nodded. “Sorry for the last minute switch up, I figured you’d get in your own head if you had too much time to think about it. Make a good first impression. I’m rooting for you!” She gave you two thumbs up and laughed. 

You tapped your finger against the wheel nervously. You had never been more nervous to drive. It’s okay, you thought to yourself, nothing is going to happen, I doubt he’ll even speak to me. He’s not much of a talker, and besides, he always carries around a newspaper or a book. He won’t be paying attention to me. Just focus on-

You flinched as you heard the passenger door open. You had expected him to sit behind you. 

You felt your stomach drop as Nanami was suddenly next to you. It was almost overwhelming, his size, his smell, his warmth. 

You stared ahead awkwardly and felt his gaze on you. You turned to look at him trying not to seem too flustered. 

“Ah, good afternoon.” You smiled warmly at him. “Um, I’m y/n.” You said. 

He nodded and didn’t say anything back. 

“Right, it should take us around 36 minutes to get to your location.” 

He nodded again, his glasses turning to his watch. He suddenly looked up and stared ahead, as to signal that he was ready to head out.

This was so awkward. It was kind of making it easier to be around him. You didn’t know what else you expected. You’d actually preferred the silence rather than trying to carry a conversation with him. At least that’s what you were telling yourself. 

“Feel free to mess with the radio. I don’t have any preferences.” 

“I prefer to sit in silence before missions.” His voice sent a chill up your spine. Wait a minute, in silence? Weird. You thought to yourself. “Is that okay?” 

“Yes, that’s fine too.” Really weird. Most sorcerers would listen to something to amp them up before a mission. For Kusabe that was smooth Jazz, Yuki would put on 80’s Japanese Rock Classics, Ino would put on Ska and you couldn’t help but laugh the first time he requested it. You smirked at the memory and felt his eyes on you again. You dropped the smile and clenched your jaw. “Alright, we’ll be off then.” He hadn’t stopped staring. You quickly turned to look at him and smiled warmly. He turned away, seeming flustered. You quickly made a note of his reaction and you felt your stomach flutter a bit. You let your eyes linger on him for a bit longer, as he tugged at an invisible string on his suit, before turning away and driving off. 

-

You arrived at your location and looked up at the old building. You bit your lip to hold back a laugh. The crooked neon sign over the door was no longer lit up but you could still read out what it said, ‘Paradise X Massage.’ You curiously looked over to see Nanami’s reaction. As usual, he was stoic. 

He has to know what that means, right? You went around the car to stand next to him and the moment you took a step closer you felt the aura of the building. A shiver went up your spine and your stomach felt tingly. You couldn’t help but smile. A curse born from a place of sex was bound to have this kind of aura. 

Things started to click. Of course Nanami was the best sorcerer for the job. He would take this very seriously. You doubted he ever let his emotions get ahead of him. You thought back to a story Ijichi had told you a long time ago about a group of male sorcerers that had been sent to exorcise a type of Kejoro, only for them to return unsuccessful, unable to carry out the mission, as well as being hot and bothered for a week. 

You felt Nanami’s eyes on you again. You looked at him before turning back at the sign and scrunching your face. “Nanami, I wouldn’t have taken you for this type of man, but don’t worry I won’t tell.” You winked at him and cringed at your stupid joke. You didn’t know him like that. He probably thought you were insane. 

“Thank you, I try not to make it a habit.” He said back with a small smile. 

You looked at him a little surprised and laughed. 

“There you are, hello!” A sweaty man with beady eyes came your way and beelined to Nanami. “My name is Gonji, I was the one who sent for you.” He glanced at your direction before turning his back to you to speak with Nanami. You blinked and grimaced. “I bought this location five months ago, I should have known there was something wrong for the price I paid, but hey! That’s business! I’m planning on fixing her up and turning it into a real refined establishment if you know what I mean. I already have the clientele, and the girls but this damn thing keeps scaring the girls away and-“ he whispered the next words. “-killed three of my guys. But hey, that’s business!” He laughed nervously. He was talking a mile a minute, becoming more and more sweaty. The air had to be getting to him. “Anyway I’ve already called a bunch of weirdos to go in there and kill the damn thing but they were all useless. Scammers all of them.” He spat at the ground. “Hey if ya help me out, I’m sure we can work out some sort of discount for you once we’re up and running. What do you say, your choice of girl-“ 

“Has it taken any hostages?” Nanami cut him off. 

“No it only scares off the girls, but lets them out. The men on the other hand…If they do manage to make it out they act like wild animals. I have to keep them away from my girls.” He laughed and then erupted into a coughing fit. “That’s why I recommend you bring a driver. Even if you do kill this thing, the tent in your pants won’t let you focus on anything else for another two hours.” He cackled and elbowed Nanami in a playful manner. Nanami’s jaw clenched and he stared down at the man. Gonji didn’t seem to notice. He finally turned towards you. “Well at least you brought yourself a cute mouse to play with if it gets to be too much.” You couldn’t hide the look of disgust on your face when he finally looked at you. “Hey there little lady, a smile might help.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to Nanami. “Women these days. Can’t take a joke.” He tried elbowing Nanami again and was stopped by Nanami’s large hand grabbing his forearm. 

“We’ll get started. Did you want to go inside with me?” Nanami asked the man. 

Gonji pulled his arm out of Nanami’s grasp and swore at him under his breath. “No, I’m taking off. I have places to go, people to see, although I’d pay god knows what to see that bitch’s blood spilled on the floor.” He looked around and picked up a rock before weakly throwing it at the sign. He missed, it didn’t even hit the wall. He messed with his jacket, embarrassed. “I’ll be leaving now. I’ll send the payment tomorrow when I come and see the place again.” He waddled off. 

“What a fucking dickhead.” You said. “We shouldn’t even exorcise this curse. He shouldn’t be allowed to run a place like that. I’m willing to bet-“ 

“Will you put up the barrier?” You turned back to Nanami and nodded before muttering the incantation. Nanami awkwardly placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” He turned towards the barrier. “For the record I agree. Scum like him are a scourge to society and should be dealt with accordingly. For now let’s bring this curse some peace.”

“Let’s.” You said in agreement. You watched him disappear into the veil.  

-

You leaned back against the car and checked the time on your watch. He had been gone for 20 minutes now. You sighed. Was it an insult to worry about him? He was one of the best - in your heavily biased opinion. 

   You heard your phone ding from inside the car as you received a message and you quickly went around to check it.  

    -So when’s the wedding? 

Akari was checking in on you. 

   -answer me this, what does it mean when someone doesn’t want to listen to any music on a 30 minute drive. 

   -No music? Like at all?     -none.    -weird. 

   -that’s what I was thinking! he must be fighting demons in his head.     -or he just wanted to savor every minute with you<3     -shut up.     -how’s it going anyway?     -don’t you have “important” business to take care of?     -:p boooo     -it’s fine, it’s some sort of sex cu-

You jumped as the back passenger door to your right was suddenly being opened. You felt the car shake as Nanami collapsed into the seats.  

“Shit, Nanami? Are you okay.” You should have been out there to greet him. You exited out of the car and dropped the veil. The building was a pile of rubble. You made your way around the car and yanked open the door. 

You felt blood rush to your face and your jaw dropped as you looked at what lay in front of you. 

Nanami had taken off his suit jacket, and was no longer wearing his glasses. He was suddenly desperately undoing his tie and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, all the while breathing heavily. He turned away from you as you looked in.  

“What’s wrong, are you injured? How can I help?” Your face felt hot as you watched him struggle with his clothes. You hesitated to move forward, unsure what to do. 

He moved around a bit more, still struggling with his shirt, and you got a better look at him. His face was flush red and there was a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. He was panting, basically gasping for air. You stared at him feeling a burning in your chest as your heart beat in your ears. 

You snapped out of your trance, this was not the time. He might be hurt. He had backed up enough to be leaning on the opposite car door so you moved forward and let the door shut behind you. “Let me help you with that.” You said softly, moving your hands closer to help him with the buttons. “Are you hurt?” You asked as he let out a soft grunt. “Let me take a look.” His hands fell to his side and you noticed he was gripping the seats. He winced away from your touch, hissing as your knee touched his thigh. 

You froze. Your hands still on his shirt. He shuddered away from you but you felt him move his thigh forward, slightly, to touch your knee again. He let out a deep exhale and a muffled grunt. He repeated the movement again and again. You stayed there staring at him, face burning as you realized he was basically humping you. His breaths got faster and you felt the ghost of his hand on your back slowly pulling you closer. His inner thigh was now pushing into your knee repeatedly and you felt him slightly buckle his hips as his hand finally landed on your neck and pulled you forward. Your hands, still on his shirt buttons, pushed lightly against his chest and your head fell into the space above his shoulder, cheeks now next to each other. He pushed hard against your knee one more time and then you heard him moan deeply into your ear. 

“Fuck.” You heard him mutter. His voice was full of frustration. “Fuck.” He said again. 

You slowly pulled back, looking at him, completely in shock. He wasn’t meeting your gaze. He just kept muttering “fuck” and “sorry” under his breath. 

You looked down and once again felt blood rush to your face as you realized what had happened. 

Since his body was leaned back against the door, you had crawled closer to him and were now on your knees between his legs. You guessed at some point he had managed to undo his belt, the button to his trousers, and pulled down the zipper because you were staring at his erection through the fabric of his underwear. It was soaked. 

You quickly pulled back away from him, somewhat losing your balance and placing your hands back down to steady yourself. Nanami lurched up as you placed your hands on his thighs and you watched as he came again. This time seeing the white liquid bleed through the fabric and drip down. 

“I- I am so sorry.” You said quickly and started to back away. You needed to leave him alone. One of his hands grabbed onto your arm keeping you in place. You looked at him confused. 

“No, stop,” he said, panting. “I’m sorry,” he said, finally looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I apologize. This is bad. I can't control-“ he squeezed your arm a little as his eyes shut and his brows knit together. “I need...” he looked into your eyes and slowly moved closer to you. His face was inches away and you felt the warmth radiating off of him. He looked directly at you now and seemed to be looking for some sort of sign. His eyes were beautiful. You realized this was the first time you had seen them. “Please…” You continued to stare at him, in shock. He wriggled beneath you and let out a soft moan. “I need you.” 

You understood. 

You quickly moved closer to him, crashing your lips into his. He moaned into your mouth and desperately pressed his lips to yours. You pushed your tongue through his closed lips and he slightly opened his mouth meeting you with his own tongue. You let him slither his in yours before closing your mouth and tugging at his lips slightly. When you finally pulled back you were both panting heavily, a string of saliva connecting you. You looked down and saw he had come again. 

“Y/N, please,” he took your hand and pulled it towards him. “I want…” you looked at him and smirked. Your eyes wandered down as he groaned again. 

“What do you want?” You said mischievously. You looked back up. 

“Please.” You had intended to tease him, but he looked so distraught and frazzled, you felt it would be too mean spirited. You nodded and let his hand guide you to his pants. You laid your hand down gently over him and felt him twitch underneath you. He groaned and you felt your face burn up again. This was happening. 

“I’ll-I’ll help you out, don’t worry.” You said nervously. You pressed down and his hips jutted into your hand. Your chest felt fluttery as your eyes were glued down to your hand and his member twitching beneath it. You smiled a little and clenched your thighs together. Focus. You were all talk. You tried to hide your nerves as you slowly wrapped your fingers around his clothed cock. He tried to suppress a moan as he shuddered underneath you. You watched the discoloration in his underwear spread as more fluid leaked out. “Wow.” 

He suddenly pulled your face closer to him and kissed you. He was desperate for contact, moaning into your mouth as he used his free hand to pull down the band of his underwear and you gasped as you felt his hot skin in your hand. 

You opened your eyes to try to sneak a peek but his right hand was buried in your hair, keeping you in place to make out with him. You kept your fingers together and wrapped around him as he thrust his hips forward, sliding between your curled fingers easily. He tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth as you felt him wrap a hand around yours, guiding you to stroke him. His breath shuddered at the feeling and he pulled you closer again. You moved your free hand to steady yourself as you leaned over him. 

He looked up at you and you saw fire burning in his eyes. He suddenly moved your hand away from his dick and placed his hands on your hips lifting you slightly so he could readjust himself under you. You were straddling him. He watched you carefully as he gently rocked his hips up between your legs and moved his hands up to go under your shirt. He waited patiently for your approval. You nodded and his hands slithered up your shirt to cup your breasts. You gasped as he roughly kneaded you and you started to undo the buttons on your shirt. Nanami decided you weren’t fast enough and ripped the shirt off of you. You didn’t have time to process past the sound of fabric ripping because he sat up and kissed you again. 

His hands moved impatiently all over your body as he pulled you closer. He was rough, but not in an aggressive way, he was impatient. You suddenly felt his fingers work their way into the waistband of your pants and you moved your hands to stop him. He looked up at you and stopped moving. He stared silently, still breathing heavily. “Would you like me… to stop?” He asked. 

You looked down at him and took a moment to assess the situation. Nanami was half naked laying under you. His shirt was now off revealing his toned chest and abdomen. You finally looked down and saw his dick. Wide and long, the bright red tip was leaning right and radiating heat. Your mouth watered. And you lightly moved your hips forward to feel it push against your core. 

“Is there a problem?” He asked. 

You hesitated to answer him. How embarrassing, you thought to yourself, this is probably going to hurt. Would he stop if you told him you were a virgin? Maybe it would be for the best. You could feel yourself soaking through your underwear, but would that be enough? He was big. You looked back up at him and opened your mouth to speak. You met his eyes and you blushed. His hair was tousled, skin pink and flush and of course he was breathing deeply. You noticed something on the side of his neck. A cut. It was a puncture wound, no bigger than your pinky nail, but it looked deep. 

“You’re injured.” You put your hand up to it and carefully examined it. It was emoting cursed energy and everything clicked. He might have defeated the curse in the building but she had gotten a good lick in. You put your hand over it to heal him. 

You weren’t good at much, but your ability to use a tiny amount of RCT had been your saving grace. Not that you were very good at it. You could really only handle superficial wounds like this one. 

Suddenly his hand grabbed your wrist and pulled it away. “Later,” he said. You stared at him confused. “I want to finish you first.” His hips thrust upwards against your pants and you couldn’t help but smile. You nodded and brought your hands down to undo the button to your pants. Nanami hissed under you as you shifted your weight around trying to pull your pants down. You were able to get one leg out and began pulling them down the other when he grabbed you quickly and settled you on top of him again. He looked up at you and you watched his eyes move down to take in your body. “Are you ready?”

You looked back at him nervously. “I-you’re so big.” You were too embarrassed to tell him it was your first time. He sat up and was suddenly inches from your face. 

He smiled coyly and nodded. “It’s okay, I can help you.” You felt one of his hands grip your waist and the other moved down to rub your clit. Your breath shuddered and you automatically buckled your hips against his hand. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders for support. He smiled wider, amused. His fingers moved lower and he slid them between your folds to collect your arousal. You were breathing heavily, your face buried into his chest. You felt him slip a finger inside of you, slowly, you felt him push up against you as far as he could go before there was a slight pop. 

A moan escaped your lips as he pushed his finger deeper. “Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re so tight.” You felt him drag his finger out, “I’m adding another one, okay?” You nodded lost in bliss. You bit your lip as you felt his fingers stretch you out again, this time sliding in a bit easier. His hands were large and his fingers long, but you knew this was easy to take compared to the real thing. Your ability to think was damped as he sped up his thrusts and his other hand slid down to rub your clit again with his thumb. You gasped and felt yourself clench onto him. You moved your hips forward desperate to feel friction. You were panting wildly and felt yourself getting close. You moved your arm down and wrapped a hand around his cock. Roughly stroking it, to repay the favor. 

“Wait-I’m close, I-I want you inside of me.” You whispered into his ear. You could feel his heartbeat quicken as his lips crashed down on yours again. 

“Whatever you want.” He said. He removed his fingers and you winced at the new empty feeling. Still rubbing your clit with one hand, he moved his now free hand to stop your strokes and guided himself between your legs. He thrust slowly against your folds running his cock between your thighs and your mound and you buckled your hips against him.

You smiled happily. Even if you couldn’t take him, you’re sure you could come from just this. He suddenly stopped and pulled back, you looked down at his cock now gleaming, covered in your fluids. He lay back against the seat and put his hands on your hips. “Now it’s up to you,” he lifted your hips and positioned you so your cunt was hovering over him. “Take your time, if you don’t think you can do it, let me know.” You felt embarrassment rush through you. Did he know? 

“Thank you.” You said meekly. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” he said softly. His hand came up and caressed your cheek. “I just don’t want to hurt you.” The kindness in his eyes made your heart flutter. You nodded with new determination. You placed a hand on his chest to balance yourself as you reached down with your other one to position him in place. You thrust your hips against his tip and pushed it into your folds, watching as his jaw clenched from the feeling. You found your opening and slowly lowered yourself to allow him inside. You winced as the tip entered you and you pushed down as far as you could go. You looked down in disappointment as you realized he wasn’t even half way in. You moved your hips back and forth just on his tip and he moved his hands onto your hips digging his fingers into you. He hissed and closed his eyes from the feeling. 

“Sorry.” You apologized. 

   He opened his eyes and furrowed his brows. “Don’t apologize. If that’s all you can do, I’ll take it.” He slowly thrust his hips and you moaned. You wished you could take him further. You bit your lip, you could do it. You reached down to lead his cock further into you and you braced yourself as you pushed him in deeper. You whimpered as you felt him stretch you out and after a little resistance he slid right in with a plop. He pulled you closer and bucked his hips slightly as he felt you wrapped around him. Pulsing from the new feeling. You winced as he moved. He was so big. You looked up at him and his face was pure bliss. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes closed, brows furrowed. “Shit,” he muttered. “You’re so tight around me.” He looked up at you. “Is this your first-“ you cut him off with a kiss. You winced at the sensation of him inside of you but suddenly moaned as he pushed up and you felt him reach a spot deep inside of you. You gasped as he thrust and hit it again. 

“There, right there, please.” You said desperately. He smiled and began thrusting his hips upwards satisfied every time he saw your face scrunch when he hit that spot. His hands moved back to your ass and he spread your cheeks out allowing himself to go just a little bit deeper. You let out a yelp as he now directly hit that spot inside of you. 

“Good girl, you’re taking me so well”. He said. You smiled lazily and kissed him. He slowed his pace a bit as he moved his hand down to rub your clit again. He had seen how much you had liked it and wanted you to finish soon. The feeling of you clamping down on him was going to make him cum soon, too. You let out a heavenly moan as he started to rub you. 

Your hips moved down on their own as you rode him. “Nanami! Fuck!” You whined as you bounced over him. You pulled him closer to you to make out and he began to move his hips in opposition to yours. You gasped as you felt him reach deep inside of you, and you wanted more, you felt your climax building up as you desperately pushed against him. Wanting to keep him deeper. He understood and thrust sharply and rubbed your clit harder. Loud moans of his name and ungodly noises left your lips as you felt it all become too much and you suddenly felt your whole body shake vigorously as you came. You felt tears come to your eyes. 

You had never felt this good, you felt radiant, like a blinding fire took your body and left you refreshed. You shook over him a couple of times, enjoying the feeling of your cunt pulsing on him. He had stopped moving, still buried deep inside of you so you could ride out your high. Your eyes fluttered as you looked up at him and you smiled, happier than you’d ever been. He planted a kiss on your lips. 

“You’re beautiful.” He said. You felt heat weld up in your stomach, he wiped your tears away softly. 

You looked down at him and furrowed your brows. “You didn’t come.” You lifted your hips slightly and winced. “Keep going.” You blushed as you saw the white ring that had formed at the base of his cock. The opening of his pants was also covered in your slick. 

He nodded and put a hand over your waist, quickly flipping you over and laying you down across the back seats. You were now under him and watched as he backed up, pulling his pants further down. You watched him through the V frame of your legs. Your cunt was sore and you felt like you looked a mess but when he looked back up at you, all your insecurities vanished. He took the sight of you in and you saw his dick twitch with anticipation. He came closer and while you expected him to just go in you gasped as his face went between your thighs and his lips latched onto your clit. You let out a moan. It was too much, you were still so sensitive. You grabbed his head and ran your fingers through his blonde locks. He looked up at you as he ran a stiff tongue against your folds and you shuddered. He smirked and went to town. 

He threw your legs over his shoulders and devoured you. Your toes curled and you had to stop yourself from closing your thighs, afraid to crush him. You suddenly felt his fingers curl deep inside you as his tongue played with your bud and you yelled out, your climax hitting again. You held his head against you as you rode out your high; thrusting your hips forward, and rubbing your cunt over his entire face, his nose in particular hitting your clit and making you shudder. You let your head fall back and looked up at him. He smiled at you before backing up and lining himself up to your entrance. “Are you still okay?” 

You nodded, exhausted but ready for more. This had to be a dream. “Whatever you want.” You repeated back to him with a smile.

“Good girl.” He pushed himself easily into you and you watched his face form a scowl as he went past your tightest part. You clenched down on him and he opened an eye and smirked at you. “Tell me if it gets to be too much.” You couldn’t even answer him before he was thrusting into you quickly, his hands on your hips holding you down and pulling you against him. He was desperate to fuck you. His hips bucked wildly against you, going in and out at a sickening pace. You could only stare at him in bliss, your mouth open and deep moans escaping everytime he moved. He grunted and pulled you closer, feeling himself coming to his limit. “You’re so good. You’re taking me so well, Princess. Fuck.” He muttered. 

“Nanami-” you moaned his name as you felt another high wash over you. You yelped and shut your eyes, arching your back with a cry. You wrapped your legs around him, locking him in place as you felt him growing more desperate with each thrust. You hummed as you noticed him looking at you, once again looking like he was looking for a sign. You smiled, exhausted and nodded. That’s all he needed. 

He grunted again and thrust his hips into you one last time, roughly, as he came. You felt him shooting hot ropes of cum inside of you and you brought his head down to kiss him. He smiled against your lips. You felt his cock pulsing inside of you and your eyes closed sleepily. 

“Thank you, y/n.” 

You nodded as you felt exhaustion come over you. “You can go again if you want.” You said barely keeping your eyes open. 

“What?” 

“You made me come three times just now. I think I owe you two more rounds.” He smiled and shook his head. 

“Rest, I’ll clean you up.” You furrowed your brows and frowned. “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes, but,” your eyes closed again. “It’s not fair. Go again, I don’t mind. I’ve been dreaming about this for so long I-“ you fell asleep.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

pt. 2 pt 3. pt 4.

˚₊✩‧₊nana here: if you made it this far bless you. if you saw a typo...no you didn't. idk if i'll ever post pt 2...i guess it depends on how this does or if a certain someone somehow convinces me to post the next part—shout out to cath my biggest supporter<3

[solitairedeere]

i was never as optimistic about the ending of bnha as some villain stans were, but i never thought it'd end so badly it left me wondering why horikoshi ever bothered to humanize the villains or make them complex characters at all.

like-- i expected that at least 1-2 of the 3 villains who were heavily foreshadowed and outlined by the narrative as people to be saved would be, you know, actually saved. i didn't think that was a high bar. i've been let down before in fandoms where everyone was certain a character would live and then they didn't, so i tried to keep my hopes low. AND YET.

what happened to tomura was upsetting, but i wasn't that shocked after how disinterested the manga has seemed to be in him for like, the past 100 or so chapters. a bit surprised, because you'd think if anyone would succeed in the 'saving' mission it would be the MC, but whatever. dabi, well, they've spent a lot of time showing the way his quirk destroys his body even before this arc, so that also sucked but at least it didn't feel completely out of left field.

........but they're not even letting toga live???

i just-- what have we even been doing here? when zero out of the 3 characters that were marked out for saving were actually saved, you have to acknowledge that something has gone seriously fucking wrong with the storytelling. not even just from the perspective of a villain fan but from the perspective of someone who likes stories to be thematically consistent or satisfying in any way.

you can set up an expectation of these characters being saved and then subvert that and turn it into a tragedy- if done well that could even be worthwhile and interesting. but you can't turn it into a tragedy and then just... keep trucking along with the happy ending messaging and act like anything in the manga has been resolved and that the characters have somehow successfully completed their heroic origin stories.

like, maybe i shouldn't have expected this much from a shounen- at the end of the day it is still a shounen so i didn't expect to feel that it truly satisfactorily wrapped up all the themes it brought up around societal ills. but i expected it to at least resolve those things in a shounen-y way where they punch the problems and help these specific people and then you can feel good assuming that the state of things will continue to improve in the post-canon world of the manga.

instead we got... uh, none of that. the story refused to answer a single one of the larger questions it's been outlining for the past 400+ chapters. in the end, it was all flash and no substance, which again could've been fine, if it weren't for the way the story seemed to spend significant chunks of time trying to delude you into thinking it had substance.

truly makes me wonder what horikoshi thought he was doing the entire time. can it really all be blamed on burnout? the most that can be said for this ending is that it is, well, an ending. fuck dude, it is that.

and that's just... such a sad way to end a project that took up 10 years of your life.

[sanarsi]

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Hello to everyone interested in this year's Kinktober by me!

Here you will find a few things I would like you to familiarize yourself with:

All stories are written by me and all of them are intended for MDNI so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

All stories are fiction and are not intended to offend anyone.

This is Kinktober with only Pedro Pascal characters such as:

Joel Miller – The Last of Us Oberyn Martell – Game of Thrones Din Djarin – The Mandalorian Javier Peña – Narcos Jack Daniels “Agent Whiskey” – Kingsman: The Golden Circle Francisco (Frankie) “Catfish” Morales – Triple Frontier Marcus Moreno – We Can Be Heroes Dieter Bravo – The Bubble Reed Richards – The Fantastic Four: First Steps Marcus Acacius – Gladiator 2

Please read the warnings under each of the works I wrote before reading and do not interact if any of them discourage you. Some stories are not for everyone and that's okay!

I do not allow my works to be copied and distributed without my consent.

All works will be available under this hashtag - #sanarsi kinktober 2024

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

Main Masterlist

Day 1 – Threesome

QZ Joel Miller x f!Reader x QZ Tess

You have no way to pay for the goods. Tess finds a way for you to pay, Joel joins with pleasure.

Day 2 – Hunter/Prey

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Din has one problem with you, you often like to run away from him. Luckily he loves playing this game with you.

Day 3 – Monsterfucking

monster!Oberyn Martell x f!Reader

Your poison lessons with Oberyn went wrong when he accidentally drank the wrong potion.

Day 4 – Food play

Marcus Acacius x prostitute!f!Reader

General likes to brighten up his evenings with your companion. This time he's in the mood for more fun.

Day 5 – Edgeplay

dark!Din Djarin x f!Reader

Din learns to control the new power that has been given to him. However, the Darksaber has an influence on its owner and you will be the first to know about it.

Day 6 – Pregnancy

husband!Jack Daniels x wife!f!Reader

Jack finally made you carry his baby. The sight of you with your rounded belly makes him unable to get enough of you.

Day 7 – Sensory Deprivation

boyfriend!Frankie Morales x f!Reader

You and Frankie like to experiment in bed and this time you took the initiative to play with him.

Day 8 – Uniforms

husband!Reed Richards x wife!f!Reader

You try on your new uniform for the first time. Reed can't keep his hands to himself at the sight of you.

Day 9 – Massaging

Javier Peña x prostitute!f!Reader

Javier is one of your regular and favorite clients. You are always willing to fulfill all his requests but today he needed more from you than just sex.

Day 10 – Knife play

post-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

After Joel killed all of your comrades, he kept you as a reward. Unfortunately, you weren't willing to cooperate, so he used more drastic methods to make you obey him.

Day 11 – Face Sitting

Dieter Bravo x f!Reader

Dieter has run out of drugs, so he asks you to keep him occupied.

Day 12 – Handjob

Oberyn Martell x prostitute!f!Reader

Oberyn is busy discussing important matters for the kingdom but he can't resist taking care of you as you sit thirsty on his lap.

Day 13 – Bondage

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Din tests new bondage techniques on you and decides to take advantage of how defenseless you are.

Day 14 – Sex Toys

husband!Marcus Moreno x wife!f!Reader

You and Marcus have decided to spice up your married life, so you're more than willing to let him test out on you the toys he bought.

Day 15 – Gun play

Javier Peña x prostitute!f!Reader

You've always been interested in Javier's work, but you've never brought it up with him before. He finally decides to show you what a DEA agent is capable of.

Day 16 – Wax play

lover!Marcus Acacius x f!Reader

Marcus loves watching you arch in pleasure beneath him, but he loves watching you squeal in pain and pleasure even more.

Day 17 – Mirror Sex

coworker!Jack Daniels x f!Reader

One of your missions went wrong and you ended up stuck in a mirror maze.

Day 18 – Nipple play

Dieter Bravo x f!Reader

Dieter loves spending lazy evenings cuddled up to you, but sometimes he also likes to interrupt you a little while you're reading a book.

Day 19 – Thigh Riding

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Din is often busy piloting the ship, which is why he doesn't have as much time for you as he would like, and because of that he doesn't mind for you using him for your own pleasure.

Day 20 – Double Penetration

Reed Richards x f!Reader x Marcus Moreno

Two superheroes have decided to save you from trouble, and you want to repay them.

Day 21 – Bath Sex

Jack Daniels x f!Reader

You were used to Jack often coming back hurt and sore. You always took care of him after each mission and bandaged his wounds but this time he needed more than just a few bandages.

Day 22 – Teasing

fiancé!Javier Peña x f!Reader

Your fiancé can't keep his hands to himself even when you're at a family dinner

Day 23 – Glory Hole

Dieter Bravo x f!Reader

Dieter sometimes had drug cravings and now he found himself in one. He didn't know how he ended up at a run-down gas station in the middle of the night but he knew he had met a nice woman who wanted to make his time more pleasant.

Day 24 – Voyeurism

Oberyn Martell x prostitute!f!Reader

Oberyn liked to please himself in many ways. Today he wanted to watch you and your friend have some fun together.

Day 25 – Somnophilia

boyfriend!Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Frankie often likes to cuddle in his sleep. He is also very sensitive to your touch, which is why you can't help yourself when he moans your name in his sleep again.

Day 26 – Ice play

pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Joel uses every moment your daughter is away to keep you in bed. He also likes to spice up your sex life with things he reads on the internet.

Day 27 – Public Sex

boyfriend!Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Your trip to see a movie took an unexpected turn when it turned out you were almost alone in the cinema.

Day 28 – Dom/Sub

lover!Marcus Acacius x f!Reader

After his failed conversation with the Emperor, Marcus needs to feel like he's in control of everything. You just so happen to be everything to him.

Day 29 – Period Sex

husband!Marcus Moreno x wife!f!Reader

Your husband helps you with period pain.

Day 30 – Praise Kink

Reed Richards x student!f!Reader

Reed likes to reward you for a job well done.

Day 31 – Hate Fucking

coworker!Jack Daniels x f!Reader

Another mission with Agent Whiskey tests your patience to the limits. The dislike is mutual, so you end up in each other's arms to numb the negative emotions.

COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED

[omegastation]

Hi. I haven’t used Tumblr in such a long time. It's kinda weird. Last time was two years ago...

I went to Valencia in Spain a few months later. Some parts of it reminded me of the Citadel. I wanted to write about it here, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t really come back here because I couldn’t play the game. I couldn’t concentrate at all, couldn’t finish a simple mission, couldn’t just “play”. I’m still in my first Legendary playthrough if you can believe it. I was losing something that brought me joy and didn’t really know what to do.

And the long story short about my time away: I got a Master’s degree while still working (evening & weekend classes). It’s fairly recent, I learned in June that I got a "Grande Distinction" (with great distinction? idk how to translate it well in English, it's just one of the highest marks). So that was nice :)

Less nice: I got a severe pulmonary embolism in November. My lungs are okay but I have to deal with daily hyperventilation now, which means I’m quite tired and need to make an appointment soon for respiratory physiotherapy. If you’re wondering, I don’t smoke and I’m fairly active. What else? I’m about to self-publish (finally!!!) my collection of short stories in French. Mom helped me yesterday, we ordered printed books. So I'm still writing. Reading and knitting all the time. And I’m still working at the same job I was working at, and I’m happy there, though it can be demanding and I have to be careful not to overwork myself.

In the end, I did manage to come back to the game and finish a mission. Not only that, but I played more missions, and that was a real "omg I can do it" moment. And the more I play, the more I want to talk about it. So there you have it, I hope I can come back and just try to enjoy myself in a chill way. I don't know how long, we'll see. I think time has helped me, at least, to look at things differently. I don't want to feel any type of obligation. I want to do things for fun because it's fun, and let that be enough.

It’s been so long, the fandom has probably changed a lot. Some people might be gone. I’ll reintroduce myself one way or another, but right now I’ll just find stuff I like to reblog and talk about all the ideas that come to mind. Bear with me if it has been said recently or so many times before. I just feel like starting all over again and I missed a lot of posts. My memory isn't what it's used to be either tbh...

Finally, I hope you’re all doing well. Thank you to the people who sent me messages. One person wrote that they missed me. I don’t know who they are, it was anon, but that really moved me, because I really did miss this community and all the discussions we had. I also miss, as always, Dustie who has been gone for a while now.

Anyway. Thank you.

[scaryspears]

Mortal Kombat x Bimbo Reader

Another test run, and these are just bullet points not full blown stories. I've already written another bimbo reader post so I suggest checking that out. Please do requests if this isn't enough.

This one is just Bi Han, Kuai Liang, Hanzo, Shang Tsung and Johnny.

"I need to die looking good."

Bi Han Noob Saibot

He doesn't understand your constant need to dress up and put makeup on, but he won't say anything about it. A lot of women are just like that, so Bi Han just figured it's a female thing. Misogynistic of him, but he doesn't care.

While seeing him training you gladly set up a chair and watched him from afar whilst drinking a cocktail, and you've attached yourself to him ever since. He couldn't take you seriously at first, but he could only admit to himself that your dense personality was a little adorable.

When the blood got too much you would hide your face in his chest, which he didn't mind even though some makeup stains would go on his clothes.

When he returned as Noob Saibot he swore to make you drop dead gorgeous, even if you already were. But you would join him in death as his revenant lover. Quan Chi was sure to give you the best manicures so long as you were loyal to him.

Kuai Liang

As a man that puts Lin Kuei traditions in high regard he could understand your need for the newest fashion and dressing well. He showed you his wardrobe and you decided to copy his style, which he found adorable.

He likes having tea with you, but you're certain he must try a frappe or at least a smoothie.

Kuai isn't one for public affection, Lin Kuei and all, but he lets you climb over him. If he's not disciplining Frost or the other Lin Kuei then he's snogging you in the snow. After you drag him into it at least. He only initiates things first if you guys are alone.

Although you didn't understand a lot of things he could appreciate you being there for him to give comfort on sensitive topics.

Hanzo 'Scorpion' Hasashi

It was like talking to a different Johnny Cage in his opinion. It was a bit jarring to have you flirting with him and not get the slightest hint that he's not interested since revenge was on his mind. It was after he was brought back as Hanzo Hasashi that he appreciated your presence more.

The Shirai Ryu are ninjas, so that meant blending into society when on mission and you had a lot of things to say about clothing choices.

The Shirai Ryu shrine looked better than he remembered, you had given him ideas on the layout and studied a thing or two on Japanese culture to make it legit.

When he caught you teaching the new members cheerleading moves he knew he had to be more welcoming with you, because those were complicated moves. And it showed him you were no stranger to teamwork. Hanzo could see the beauty in that.

Shang Tsung

This villainous man came across you giving Mileena style tips and fixing her hair. He had no clue how you snuck into the private parts of the palace, but he suspected you were partially from the Chaosrealm.

Mileena didn't react well to your absence, and after Kitana's rejection she seemed to have formed an attachment to you so Shang expected you around the palace. Shao Kahn was glad that Mileena had a nice person to look up to, so he was fine with you in the palace.

Shang had you participate in the tournament for a reason, but he underestimated your powers as well as your fighting abilities. Such beauty in combat is rare.

Johnny Cage

Barbie and Ken in the eyes of many Earthrealmers, but you two are the 'it' couple when it comes to vanity, expensive taste, and being drama queens.

He is your husband, your best friend, and your mirror. Your super power was convenience and getting yourself out of serious situations, but how it acted up was at random times. Johnny could relate to that.

In the meantime, you could both bathe in the spotlight, and the cameras. And your friends from home can be jealous and gush about you marrying an actor.

It was a match made in pink and green.

[the-bitter-ocean]

ISAT AGESWAP AU MASTERPOST

SYNOPSIS: ISAT Ageswap Au is an au where the characters’ ages in the story of ISAT are swapped. In this Au Bonnie is the oldest in the group (the rest of the saviors of Vaugarde are kids) and they’re also the one stuck in a timeloop. This au has multiple collaborators working on it: @startagainaprologue (Pastell) @tealgoat (Teal) @basilpaste (Basil) @pixxyofice (Pix) and myself! This idea initially was a joke idea for fun that was brought up in a group chat and then quickly spiraled into something more complex later on. (THIS AU CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE FULL GAME, INCLUDING A6SE/“2HATS” + SASASAP SPOILERS).

Decided to make more of these little masterposts for the sake of organization and also so that way people who are new to the Au can figure out where to find all the posts about it. Like all the other master posts I’ve made before, these will be updated periodically as myself, or others who make stuff about the au. Art, writing and questions answered about how the Au works will be listed under the cut:

(ASKS)

So who’s the one looping in this au?

How old is The King in this au? Is he a kid like the rest of the saviors of Vaugarde?

How old is Bonnie in this au? (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Is feeding the kids Bonnie’s go to method in the ageswap au?

Does Bonnie tell anyone in the group about the timeloops?

Does Bonnie forget anything in the loops?

Out of the kids in the group who is the oldest/youngest?

Did Mirabelle ask for help from the Defenders? How did that go?

How did Odile get from Ka Bue to Vaugarde?

What is Odile Like in this au?

Does Isabeau still have a crush on Siffrin in this au?

(ACT 3 SPOILERS) How did Siffrin react to Bonnie losing their eye?

(ACT 3 SPOILERS) How did the group manage to get Bonnie to a hospital during the eye incident?

(ACT 3 SPOILERS) Does Siffrin end up saying the name of the island north of Vaugarde? If so how does that go?

(ACT 3 SPOILERS) What Does The King Do In The End Of Act 3?

(ACT 3 /A6SE SPOILERS) How recently did the island get [REDACTED] in this Au? What did Loop wish for?

(ACT 5 SPOILERS) Do the kids go on a mission to save their guardian?

(ACT 5/ A6SE SPOILERS) Is Loop shy with the other kids in the group?

(A6SE / SASASAP SPOILERS)Wait… So like what’s the deal with Loop in this au? (art by @/tealgoat)

(ACT 6/A6SE SPOILERS) How does 2Hats encounter go in this Au?

(ACT 3/ ACT 4/ A6SE SPOILERS) How would canon ISAT! Siffrin react to Ageswap! Au Bonnie (and vice versa)

(ART)

Ageswap Au Designs (Bonnie, Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile & Siffrin)

Ageswap Au Designs (Petronille & Bonnie)

Ageswap Au Designs (Loop) ( art and design by @/startagainaprologue)

Ageswap Au Concept Doodles (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Odile Talk Sprites (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Mirabelle & Isabeau Talk Sprites

Siffrin Talk Sprites (edits by @/tealgoat)

Bonnie Talk Sprites (art by @/tealgoat)

Where Are Your Parents? (art by @/tealgoat)

Cool Rocks (art by @/tealgoat)

Nothing To See Here! (art by @/tealgoat)

Making Dinner (art by @/tealgoat)

Rainy Day (art by @/tealgoat)

Some Needed Rest (art by @/tealgoat)

Snack For You (art by @/tealgoat)

Misc. Ageswap Phone Doodles (art by @/tealgoat)

Sleepy Loop (art by @/tealgoat)

Loop & Bonnie (art by @/tealgoat)

Oops! (art by @/tealgoat)

Baby Dile Jordans (art by @/tealgoat)

Ageswap Odile Birthday! (art by @/pixxyofice)

Happy Birthday Odile (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Baby Dile Doodles (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Babybeau & Babybelle (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Happy Mira Monday (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Ageswap Isabeau Doodle (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Isabeau & Odile (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Isabeau & Siffrin (art by @/pixxyofice)

First Orb Obtained! (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Loop: Content vs Pissed (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Loop Gets A Toy (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Loop’s Hat Now (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Loop Is 1cm Tall (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Ageswap Au Cat Edition (art and designs by @/startagainaprologue)

Kitty Babydile doodle (art by @/startagainaprologue & @/tealgoat)

Kitty Babybelle Doodle (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Loop and Bonnie (cat edition) (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Powerful Trans Aura (art by @/startagainaprologue)

What’s My Bloodtype? (Art by @/startagainaprologue)

POV: You Are Mira And This Kid Skitters Over To Join Your Party (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Saviors of Vaugarde Naptime (art by @/startagainaprologue)

Croc-Odile! (Art by @/startagainaprologue)

(ACT 1 SPOILERS) Everything’s Fine! (art by @/startagainaprologue)

(ACT 3 SPOILERS) If The Universe Allows Me To See It (art by @/startagainaprologue)

(ACT 3 SPOILERS) Thank Change You’re Safe.. (art by @/startagainaprologue)

(ACT 3 SPOILERS) Accidents (art by @/tealgoat)

(ACT 3 SPOILERS) You Look Like A Pirate (art by @/tealgoat)

(ACT 3 SPOILERS) POV: You Ask Them To Say The Country’s Name With You (art by @/tealgoat)

(ACT 3 Spoilers) Mistakes Were Made (art by @/startagainaprologue)

(ACT 3 SPOILERS) Are You Okay? (art by @/startagainaprologue)

(ACT 3/4 SPOILERS) Ghost (art by @/startagainaprologue)

(ACT 3/ A6SE SPOILERS) Miscellaneous Ageswap Au Doodles

(ACT 4 SPOILERS) Are You In A Timeloop? (art by @/startagainaprologue)

(ACT 5 SPOILERS) Ageswap Au MDP Design

(ACT 5 SPOILERS) The One You Couldn’t Protect (art by @/startagainaprologue)

(ACT 6/ A6SE SPOILERS) A Bunch of Bonnie Loopers (art by @/startagainaprologue)

(A6SE SPOILERS ) Ageswap Au Loop Sprites

(A6SE SPOILERS) A Bad Dream (art by @/tealgoat)

(A6SE SPOILERS) Ageswap Au Guide (art by @/startagainaprologue)

(ACT 5/ A6SE SPOILERS) Grounded (art by @/tealgoat)

(ACT 5/ A6SE SPOILERS) Can We Talk? (art by @/tealgoat and @/startagainaprologue)

(SASASAP SPOILERS) An Ending[?] (art by @/startagainaprologue)

(WRITING)

Candy For You (writing by @/startagainaprologue)

What’s Your Name? (Writing by @/startagainaprologue )

(FANWORKS)

Bonnie (& Mirabelle & Isabeau & Odile & Siffrin!) (art by @/tawnysoup)

Poor Thang (art by @/tawnysoup)

Loop! (art by @/giftplane)

Opposite Ends Of The Shirt Sleeves Alliance (art by @/daily-odile)

Loop & Bonnie Reading Time (art by @/dailyloopdeloop)

Saviors of Vaugarde Doodle (art by @/monochrome-stars)

I Miss My Dad (art by @/eurydice-pens)

Konpeito Cookie Meets Ageswap Au Loop (art by @/metropolitankei )

(A6SE SPOILERS ) Some Mirabelle Doodles (art by @/mobblespsycho100 )

Universe’s Least Qualified Therapy Cat (art by @/iknowicanbutwhy)

A Bunch Of Odiles! (art by @/princess-self-shipping)

Sky Children of The Light Au Loop Meets Ageswap Au Loop (art by @/mossy-doodles85 )

[itsmeoculi]

16!Dazai x PM!reader smut where:

Reader was on a mission with him and since he's stressed as fuck he got more stressed since he saw you(his lover) flirting with someone(even if it's a mission). Once you got home he did the thing and overstimulated you.

Ty! Take your time ♡

Tiny but important note:In one of my posts I did put that I wasn’t on board with doing minors (16 yes is close but still not really comfortable) but since Dazai does have a canon adult age I’ll make it 19 cause I’m not comfortable doing ages under 18. Thank you, I hope you understand and I don’t think it affects the story that much.

Let’s get a move on now!

“𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝒹..”

Pairing: 19!A bit of Dom!Dazai x Sub!AFAB(FEMALE)!PM! Reader

TW!: SMUT, NSFW CONTENT, MAINLY FOR THOSE OF MATURITY, eating out, overstimulation, and y’all already know Dazai is a bit of sadist but I don’t think that’s in there much

Synopsis: It’s been busy in the Port Mafia, so busy that Dazai l hasn’t seen you in a while. Lucky for him Mori sends you two on a mission, he was happy at first but you seemed to not give him the attention he craved. Now, you’re getting punished.

Mori sent you and Dazai on a mission. Of course, Dazai, being Dazai, was more focused on being with you than the actual job. But here you are now sitting at a table in a fancy diner waiting for a specific waiter by the name of Ruki Satō (not a canon character just made it up) Ruki Satō was one of the best performing waiters, but he screwed over the Port Mafia after not repaying a debt and killing two of the Mafia’s men. Mori sent you two to kill him, and lucky for you he was your server tonight.

Dazai was ecstatic to see his lover again, but unfortunately for him his belladonna was paying more attention to ANYTHING but him. You would hear him go.

“Bella…” “Come on (name).. look at me.” “Love, let’s chat, the waiter isn’t even here yet~”

“Not now ‘Samu.. we have something more important than what your trying to do right now.”

Now, Dazai would usually laugh it off.. but the way you said it wounded him. You were cold and it was like a dagger to his heart when he heard your tone. This whole week had been a mess for him, and now his belladonna? The love of his life had became part of that mess…

He stayed quiet

You no longer heard the sweet nothings he’d say, only silence.. Awkward silence, until Ruki broke it.

“Oh hello I’m Ruki Satō and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get you two~?”

You proceed to order something light

“Awesome, that will be it for the lovely lady? How about him?”

Dazai looked painfully at the waiter ‘What did he just call (name)..’ he thought, he didn’t answer the waiter in spite of how pissed off he was with Ruki hitting on you.

But you took the Ruki’s flirtatiousness as an advantage and proceeded to flirt back.

“He’ll have the same thing. Thanks sweetie for being so polite tonight. And forgive my friend, he’s tired.”

You blew a kiss at the waiter before he left. Dazai did not like this one bit. ‘Friend?? What the hell is that kind of excuse?’ He stayed quiet though, because he had plans for later.. on his revenge.

A few minutes passed and Ruki brought your food. Of course wanting to seduce him more, you asked him to stay and chat.

The waiter liked this and at this point Dazai wouldn’t be surprised if you two made out already.

Dazai’s hell of you two basically asking each other to fuck, goes on for about an hour. When it’s finally over you say this.

“Dazai, please meet me in the parking lot. I want to give our waiter here’s special tip in the alleyway~”

He was scared now, he thought if you were about to do what he thinks your about to do he’s done with you. He left for the parking lot, reluctantly, as you guided Ruki to an alleyway.

“This might be the best customer I had tonight~”

“Hehe, let’s have fun.” The waiter was vulnerable now, and you start shuffling at the back of your pants, which made him think you were gonna remove them.

..but instead, you pull out a gun.

“Wait! You- know don’t do this don’t-“

Bang..

You used a silencer.. to of course cause less commotion. Now the job is done.

You leave the alleyway and go to the parking lot. Dazai waiting at the car, engine ready. Once you enter, it’s straight home, he has some matters he needs to.. deal with.

Once you get home, he slams the door and locks it, removing his coat. “I’m gonna go change ‘Samu.”

You said, heading for the bedroom not even taking a single look at Dazai. But this was perfect for him, because he had a plan.

Ignoring your “warning” he swung the bedroom door wide open and pushed you onto the bed, you were already half-nude. Bra off, and the only thing covering you was a pair of lace underwear, and your hands.

“You look pathetic, belladonna.”

“Dazai- I told you I was- MGH!”

He cut you off by inserting 3 fingers into your mouth

“You’re gonna have to be punished for your whole act, back at the diner.”

He said as he removed his white dress shirt, revealing his bandaged body.

“I should’ve left you at the diner y’know.. but now your helpless. Who knew the cold and fierce (name) would be so quick to submit.”

You whimpered but he removed his fingers from your mouth.

“Quiet now belladonna. I need you to lay back for me.” You followed his orders.

“Great now open your legs wide for me darling.” You tried to do so, but you were so intimidated so you could even move an inch!

“You can’t do anything right, can you?” He leaned forward, resting himself on the bed, and then harshly opened your legs wide. You let out a slight whine from the sudden movement. He placed his face in-front of your sopping cunt. The wetness bleeding through your underwear.

“Gotta get rid of these somehow~” He said, immediately ripping the under garment and throwing it to the side. (too bad you bought those last week 😬)

“You’re soaking wet already? Such a slut (name) such a slut!” He said deviously, as he prodded his tongue around, and circled around the outer lips of your cunt. “You still taste as good as last time, but how you spoke to me in the diner may have ruined it~”

You wanted to sock this little bastard into a duffel bag. He was being such a jerk right now.. he was probably gonna edge you, or that’s what you thought. Until he said..

“Don’t worry belladonna, you’ll get your sweet release, but you will have to pay for stressing me out so badly.”

Your fucked..

Dazai inserts his tongue, deep inside of you. Then, he started to make more friction and lapping up your insides like a dog. The more he licked, the more wet you got. He hit all those sweet spots that made you see stars.

You reached your high and a loud moan filled the room. Dazai made a stifle grunt, pleased by the *honey* you made, he licked all up like it was maple syrup.

“Fuck! ‘Samu.. so good. H-hey wait I’m not-” your sentence was interrupted by a groan, as he started to abuse your cunt, with that silver tongue of his. He went back to eating you out and muffled “I don’t like it when my meal gets interrupted.” The vibrations of him speaking against your pussy made you arch your back beautifully.

“Beautiful, belladonna..” Dazai said, while adding in one of his slim fingers to run around your clit. This caused you to gasp in the immense arousal you were feeling. His free hand wandered, massaging your breasts. That’s when you came a second time, but instead of a short pause he kept going, lapping you all up.

“Wait- Osamu! W-wait-mhgh~”

You could barely fabricate sentences at the overstimulation. Your 2nd orgasm just happened, and he didn’t even pause!

Tears started forming in your eyes, and you were a moaning mess.

“Shh, belladonna I need to hear your moans not you sobbing.” He said harshly, you nodded. Yours eyes like a puppy’s big and.. “innocent” not you in this case, a better word would be helpless.

Dazai was abusing your sweet spots and your his tongue hitting exact one with such accuracy. It was like he saw inside of you.

You had your 3rd orgasm, still no stopping.

You were fucked silly, like it was some sort of euphoria coming over you. This round however was the fastest pace.

Cunt, puffy. Clit, swollen. Sweet spots BRUISED. And your throat hurt from your high pitched gasps and moans coming out of you. At some point you felt part of his teeth, but he was unstoppable. You were whining and sobbing. Tears streamed thinly down your eyes. You were pretty sure you were trying to say “Too much! Too much!” But it came out as a bunch of gibberish.

Then his tongue finally hit that special spot that made you see stars, and your 4th orgasm came. Thank god he stopped at that. He took his hand that was playing with your clit, and licked it clean. He proceeded to give you a few kisses before going to the drawer.

“What are you- doing?” You said, catching your breath.

“Just the finale of my punishment for you.” He pulled out a vibrator.

Dazai proceeded to place it near the entrance of your cunt, and set it to the weakest level.

“Have fun~!” He said, while sitting in a nearby seat smirking at you as you struggled

What a cruel asshole.

Hii this the end I hoped you kinda liked this. I’m not awesome with smut but I’m willing try yk.

[jinbugs]

VIVERE

“Do you think you deserve it? To be punished?” “I think so, yes.”

A Pathfinder 2e Campaign Introduction Post!

MEET THE PARTY:

REVUN (@dovelydraws)

26 years old

he/they/she

A duel-wielding tiefling fighter. Easy-going freelance mercenary from Alephia, looking for a job that pays well and a little company.

FERRA (@artpepkin)

87 years old

she/her

A beastkin elven rogue from Chiei Thya. Playful vagabond who finds herself wherever the wind takes her. She's maybe gotten herself in a little over her head.

POLITES (@mossy-garden)

17 years old

he/him

A tiefling champion. Proud kingdom guard of Crimyria under the goddess Vildeas, who is willing and anxious to prove himself.

KWAN (@jinbugs)

39 years old

he/they/she

A human investigator. Cunning Po Lian scholar-official informant who is in pursuit of a dangerous secret, the centurion pearl. At any cost.

Glitch (@eternalglitch), our game master, weaves all our loose threads into one coherent story.

One fun rule we’ve incorporated into this campaign: players CANNOT share their character backstories with each other outside of gameplay.

It gives more mystery fun! It’s also driving us insane. Pray for us.

(Map created by @dovelydraws, summary also written by Dove)

A lot has gone into the cultures and politics of each of the countries our characters come from. Enough so that it doesn't make sense to get into all of it on an introductory post! But perhaps later in a reblog.

THE STORY SO FAR…

As of the writing of this post, we have now played 5 sessions of the campaign.

Our party all met each other in the small seaside town of Plumeport, Crimyria. We were all brought together in pursuit of the same thing: a legendary man-eating boar, said to hold the power of immortality.

It is believed that consuming the flesh of this boar would grant eternal life, and even just a bit of its fur or blood can extend a person's life, for a time. The King of Crimyria himself has offered whoever can take down this boar a large sum of wealth and a small offering of its blood for personal consumption. He wants the job to be done in time for the Crimyrian Festival of Flight, in a couple months time.

The bounty on the boar's head has drawn adventurers from all over the continent, but none so far have been able to take it down. Many have lost their lives. While each of our party members have their own reasons for wanting to take on this job, Kwan has a very personal stake in their success.

He has, reluctantly, revealed that he once knew the boar before it obtained the power it has today. He has reason to believe it has swallowed something once known as a centurion pearl: a powerful artifact that caused the fall of a once great kingdom, and threw the continent into tumultuous conflict. Kwan is adamant that this power should not be handed over to any king. Once it is killed, they want to extract the pearl from its body to make sure it can never fall into the wrong hands.

So far, Kwan has only revealed this to Revun. Polites, meanwhile, works directly under the king and wants to succeed on this mission to make him proud. Ferra seems to only be interested in the money and adventure. Revun has also said they were in this for the money, but vaguely admitted to Kwan that they also had their own personal reasons to go after the boar, and if he truly believes its power is too dangerous, they will follow his lead.

Once faced with the boar, however, the party was unprepared and outmatched. It was massive, its eyes as large as their heads, emanating a golden glow. It moved unlike a normal animal, and seemingly bore a higher level of intelligence than it should.

After a deceptively strong start, Polites went down in battle, and they were all forced to run to ensure everyone's survival. Before retreating though, Kwan shot the boar with a strange arrow, claiming they would be able to track it again later.

The party camped outside of the marsh, unable to sleep while waiting for Polites to wake up. They discussed next steps- going back to the city to regroup, get proper healing, and perhaps find a sponsor to help them in their next try. They still have a few weeks to get things figured out.

And that's all, so far! We're all pretty stoked and making tons of art and written works, so keep a look out, we might publish a zine when the sessions start wrapping up. Bye-bye, for now!

[strlingsav]

hear me out: team 141& female reader go to the bar post successful mission, everyone's a lil too drunk, she makes a move on ghost but he's like "ok uve had too much" (I dnt think he's rly drunk tho) and he brings her back to his room to take care of her, but hes like wait "I've always wanted you" THEN THE HOT AND STEAMY STUFF *ofc it's all consensual*

Ohhhhhhh yes, right up my alley 👀

Always

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Your Lieutenant confesses his feelings.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

It wasn't your idea to go out; it was never anyone but Soap that always suggested a pint at the bar around the corner. A run-down dive bar across the street from the base, where every soldier knew it was the best place for cheap drinks and entertainment.

It was the kind of place that belonged to the coarse, gruff men that chain-smoked and didn't want to go home sober. The kind that kept their eyes on you as you wandered in, before turning their interest back to the beer in front of them.

You shared a table with the squad. You were a bit hesitant to join them after hearing the stories Soap told about the place. The time he nearly had a dart thrown in his chest during a drunken game, or when he'd lost a lot of money during a pool match. Nonetheless, you'd been convinced, citing something like, "one time can't hurt".

It was filled with cigarette smoke, classic-rock, and the heavy smell of beer. Price lit up a cigar, puffing on it from the far end of the table. He seemed to enjoy the music and beer, not paying much attention to the ongoing conversation between you. Gaz and Soap had been ragging on each other, Ghost joining in when he felt it necessary.

Soap was already a few drinks in, pressuring you to keep up with him. You could, and did, though you knew you'd have to walk back afterward and thoroughly regretted the three you'd already had.

Ghost sat beside you, a hand around his glass of bourbon, quietly surveying the conversation, chiming in with a scoff or witty comment about Soap's intelligence every so often.

"You are not a Scotsman," You shook your head, watching the drunken man nod his head along to the guitar and drums from the speakers.

"Piss off," He sneered. "What are you on about?"

"You can't hold your liquor," You said back, leaning forward with a smug grin.

"And you can? I'm drinkin' you under the table."

"We're even," You rolled your eyes, sitting back. "'Sides, I'm savouring it."

"Shite's gettin' warm in your hand!" He exclaimed.

You narrowed your eyes, shooting the last of your beer back.

"Let's do a few shots, then. And grab me another beer."

His eyes lit up, a smirk on his face. "Now you're talkin' kid." He shuffled out of his seat, stumbling every so slightly as he headed toward the bar.

"He won't stop 'til he's ahead of ya," Ghost said, leaning into your ear.

You shivered. The timbre of his voice in your ear brought goosebumps to the surface of your skin. Looking over at him, you furrowed your brows, inspecting his eyes. Dark and void, no flecks of any other colour to be seen. They were deep and mesmerizing, a black hole ready to suck you in. You noticed you'd been staring longer than normal, pursing your lips before shifting your gaze.

"I know," You were distracted now with the image of Soap, carrying four shot glasses filled with a mysterious liquid. "It's fun to see him try though."

"More entertainin' watchin' him act like a git."

You grinned.

Price then announced he was heading out, mumbling, "I ain't in the mood for watchin' you drunks all night."

You'd bid him good night, but not before trying to convince him to stay. He'd resigned himself to a night in, drinking his expensive liquor, puffing his cigar in the privacy of his own office. He left with a short goodbye, warning the rest of you not to get out of control.

Soap set the shots down, handing you yours with a polite smile.

"Think we should cheers," He said, sitting down. His speech was now obviously slurring. "To another fuckin' mission finished, and to gettin' back home, away from you fuckers."

You shrugged, colliding your glass with his, before tipping it back and letting it slide down your throat. You shut your eyes, swallowing harshly, nearly choking on the burn in your chest.

"Jesus," You were hoarse, a strangled sound leaving your lips. You recognized the flavour of the drink- vodka. "Nasty."

You sat back, your eyes scanning the bar. It was getting harder to see straight- ghost trails and lazy blinks disrupting your vision. A deep breath in did nothing to clear your head, but damn did it feel good.

"Here," He handed you the second.

You hadn't quite recovered from the first, still feeling it sitting in your throat. Your ribs shifted with a heavy inhale, desperately trying to swallow the liquid fire. Your eyes landed on Soap, an amused grin across his face, though you'd already gulped down the shot before he could say anything.

He chased his shot with the beer in front of him, a grimace across his face- the same as yours. It hit you within a few minutes, only exacerbating the way everything seemed to blur together.

It felt great. Fucking great, to drink, relax, unwind. Have fun, for the first time in months. Dress in something other than fatigues and twenty pounds of equipment. To shower and brush your teeth with running water. You'd finally de-tangled your hair, appreciated the sweet smell of deodorant, worn makeup. You were reminded of it by Gaz, when he commented that your face looked "different" from the usual.

Your head turned, catching Ghost's eyes on the way by, and you smiled softly. It was unintentional, nearly uncontrollable at this point in the evening. He averted his gaze.

You'd always thought highly of him, respected him. You had to. But the causal dress brought out a different side of him, a side that had a sense of humour and didn't mind listening to the back and forth between yourself and Soap. A side you wouldn't mind seeing more often. He wasn't just your Lieutenant now, and your drunken self had taken note of that.

You squinted, trying to imagine the face beneath the mask. His eyes were alluring on their own, and your cheeks flushed at the thought of just how handsome he probably was.

You'd let your guard down, after so long of denying the fact that you were attracted to him, you'd admitted it to yourself. You knew you were digging yourself into a hole, unsure how you'd function while working with him, how you'd ever leave the attraction behind and behave in a strictly professional manner.

It was more difficult to think about drunk than it was while sober. While sober, you could pretend his voice didn't awaken a thrumming in your chest, or that you definitely didn't like the way his fatigues fit his body. But drunk- it was a different story. You'd had your eyes all over him, uncaring and indifferent to whether he noticed or not.

It came with urgency, a giggle bubbling up before you could stop it. It was just another urge you couldn't quite hold in. You'd been studying him, and only when he turned to you, did you realize it. You'd been caught.

"What's funny?" He asked, raising a brow.

You waved your hand, trying to dismiss his question, nearly knocking your empty beer bottle off the table. You caught it with a clumsy hand, pushing it out of reach and clutching your full drink to your chest.

"Lightweight," Soap announced, the usual shit-eating grin on his face.

"Fuck off, Johnny."

"You're a mean drunk, kid."

"I'm not drunk." You noticed that your own speech was slurring now. Your mouth particularly difficult to control, short bursts of giggles exploding without warning. "Okay," You nodded slowly. "Just a bit."

Soap laughed, a loud, boisterous laugh that made you wince. He'd also indulged a bit too much, his cockiness making an unexpected appearance.

"Let's win us a game of pool," Soap said, turning to Gaz.

"I'm not giving you any money," Gaz answered, following close behind as the two made their way to the tables.

You sighed heavily, relishing in the feeling of not being in control. Letting go, falling into the drunken stupor you'd gotten yourself into. It was cathartic. Especially after a gruelling mission.

You turned your attention to Ghost, your head tilting up to look at him.

"Just you and me, Loot," You pursed your lips. "Tell me your war stories."

"Don't have any interesting enough." He took another sip, his lips wet with liquor. You could hardly tear your eyes away.

"Bullshit," You grinned.

He shrugged it off, licking the leftover liquid from his mouth. You'd see his lips before, seen the stubble that lined his chin. You knew he was handsome.

"You should take off the mask," You said, still very intrigued.

"Why's that?" He asked, his gaze flickering between your lips and eyes.

"You're handsome. Not sure why you hide it," You popped a cashew in your mouth from the communal bowl on the table.

"I know. That ain't why I wear it," He said. His eyes fell to the cashews in your hand. "Shouldn't eat those."

You stopped your chewing, furrowing your brows as you set the remaining cashews back in the bowl. He was right; by the looks of it they were old- you hadn't noticed with the blurry haze of liquor distorting your vision.

"Always looking out," You grinned sheepishly. "It's alright to take a night off."

"Not when you're pissed," He commented.

You scowled, "I'm not pissed- I'm tipsy. At the most, a bit drunk." Your tone was harsher than intended.

"You're pissed," He nodded.

"You're deflecting. We were talking about how handsome you are."

"No we weren't," He said, swallowing another gulp.

"Okay," You sighed. Admittedly, it was taking a lot of brain power to follow the conversation. "I was talking about it."

He nodded. "You usually so irritatin' when you're in the bag?"

"Are you usually such a prude?" You snapped.

He shook his head, hiding the grin on his lips with a sip from his glass. You were far too drunk to notice. You wondered if maybe you were a mean drunk, suddenly feeling irrationally guilty for talking to your lieutenant that way.

"I'm sorry," You sighed, desperately wanting to lay your head down on the table, bury your face in your arms and hide your embarrassment.

"It's nothin'." He looked amused.

"I'm sure you're not a prude," You said, eyes wide with concern.

"Far from it."

You raised your brows, suddenly intrigued. Sitting up straight, you shifted to face him entirely.

"I've never seen that side of you."

"No reason to."

"I mean," You swallowed the cold beer, setting it down before staring up at him with narrowed eyes. "I could give you a reason."

Your focus was unrelenting as you scanned his face, searching for any hint of an interested expression. He was unreadable- likely due to the liquor in your bloodstream- and it frustrated you. Now, deeply under the influence, you were irritated and aroused.

"Don't think you know what you're sayin'," His eyebrows dipped in, an unimpressed expression in his eyes.

He'd never seen you in your civilian clothes, or with lipstick on. His mouth had gone dry when he first saw you walk into the bar, not surprising given the tightness in his chest anytime you'd brush past him, compliment him, even say his name. It was unavoidable, especially now, watching you lean in, your inhibitions lowered.

He felt his blood run cold, warmth settling in his groin when your eyes lazily flipped over to look at him, your hand under your chin. You had a coy smile on your face, like you didn't know exactly what you did to him, and he'd be a damn liar if he didn't admit it turned him on even more.

"I know exactly what I'm saying." Your eyes narrowed at him, a short huff of amusement leaving your nose.

He wanted to believe it was true; he'd been around enough drunken soldiers to know that whatever was said usually had some truth to it. He just couldn't imagine a woman like yourself wanting to be attached to a person like him. You were too good; too righteous. Too loyal, trusting. Sometimes it drove him crazy, other times he cherished how much faith you put in him.

"Think you've had enough for the night."

He finished his drink, setting it down. He licked his lips.

"Maybe," You nodded.

Your head was fuzzy, and it was hard to see straight. Reasonably, you knew it was time to call it. You'd pay for it in the morning if you didn't.

"C'mon," He said, nodding his head, urging you to step out of the booth. "We'll head back to base."

You didn't fight him. Your hand reached the table for support as you stood up, missing the empty beer bottle by an inch. Ghost grabbed your arm, an innocent touch that your drunken state turned into something more; a premonition.

You turned back to look at him, a coy smile- even drunk, you were a bit embarrassed to be so clumsy in front of your Lieutenant.

Your arm wrapped around Ghost's as you headed out of the bar, discretely feeling the hard bicep that was hidden beneath the black jacket he was wearing. You squeezed gently, hoping he wouldn't feel your groping. He knew, he could feel your fingers moving, the heat of your palm over his arm. He couldn't help but look over at you, an expression of bliss on your face, eyes half shut.

You made small talk, the night air sobering you up a bit as you wandered across the street. The flickering streetlights made him look even more intimidating than usual, casting a shadow over his eyes, his tall form towering over you. You were aware now of just how close you were to him; you were surprised he'd let you hold his arm, but glad he did. You were somewhat afraid you'd wander off and end up sleeping in a ditch, but mostly you liked how warm he was, how good he felt under your hand.

You knew when he walked you inside that it wasn't the direction of your bunk.

"I'm over there," You pointed.

"You're stayin' with me," He said resolutely. "Can't have you chokin' on your own vomit."

You frowned, "Fair point."

As he let you into his quarters, you were overwhelmed with just how much it smelled like him. A bit of vanilla, cedar, cigarettes. It was almost suffocating, seeping into your senses until you were filled only by him. It was intimate, breathing the same air he lived in. He'd allowed you inside, allowed you to see his most personal space. You took a deep breath at the overwhelming revelation.

Your eyes scanned the room, cataloguing the belongings inside. There weren't many personal items; no photographs or books. Hardly any evidence that he lived there. It was barren, aside from the furniture. You knew him, knew he didn't live like you did. He didn't have family back home that waited for him with loving arms and smiles. He had no reason to frame photos of the people he had loved before.

You stood in the centre of the room, still taking in the environment, sobering up even more when he appeared with a T-shirt and water bottle in hand.

"Here," He said, holding them out to you.

"Is that yours?" You asked, looking over the T-shirt.

He nodded.

You were flustered now, the drunkenness having mostly worn off, your demeanour did a one-eighty once you realized where you'd ended up. Your Lieutenant's room, alone. It was the perfect opportunity to take advantage of, to confess to every single thing you'd ever thought about him. But you couldn't blame it on being drunk anymore, not when you could feel the embarrassment of what you'd said earlier, and mostly regretted it.

"Thank you."

"Y'can change in there," He nodded his head in the direction of the bathroom.

You did, discarding your jacket, shirt and pants. You slid the shirt over your head. It reached the middle of your thighs, a comical look that made you smile at yourself in the mirror. You chugged the water bottle and pulled your hair from your face before leaving the bathroom.

His eyes landed on you, his heart picking in his chest up when he saw you wearing nothing but his shirt. Relaxed, like you were home. It was undeniably arousing. Like you were branded, marked by him. He tried to ignore it, ignore the way your bare feet across his floor sounded so comforting, the way you so willingly wore his clothes, thought nothing of wearing your damn panties around him. He felt something primal clawing at his chest, scratching its way up his throat.

"How you feelin'?" He asked, settling for a nonchalant question, something innocent so you wouldn't suspect he was practically trembling with desire, to touch you- taste you. He took a seat in the chair across the room.

You stepped over to the bed, sitting down on the edge.

"Mostly sober," You breathed out, a small smile on your face. "Sorry, if I said anything out of line."

He nodded; no answer, a nerve-racking response on its own, but his eyes avoided yours. You pushed past the topic, not wanting to dwell on the actions of your drunken self.

"I can sleep on the floor, if you have an extra blanket?" You offered.

He shook his head, "Take the bed. Don't sleep much anyways."

"Why not?" You asked.

"Never have. Too much goin' on in my head."

"Stop thinking for once," You teased.

He inhaled, still slightly distracted by the sight of you, your bare thighs, the shirt inching up as you moved up the bed.

"If only," He replied.

"What keeps you up at night, L.T.?" You asked, a grin of amusement on your face.

You, he wanted to say. You, and your fucking smile. The cadence of your voice, the feeling in his gut he got whenever he felt you next to him, watched you when you weren't looking.

"Paperwork," He teased- though his face showed no evidence of a joke.

You were quiet for a minute, shifting your gaze around the room before returning to his eyes. You smiled, changing the topic again when you concluded he really didn't want to talk about it.

"Thanks for taking care of me tonight."

"You're my responsibility."

Your heart sunk to the pit of your stomach; had he felt responsible for you? Had he only let you cling to him out of obligation? Given you his shirt because it was his duty?

"Oh," You nodded. Your voice was weak, but you tried to hide your disappointment behind a small smile. "Always watching out."

"For you, yeah."

Your gaze narrowed. You wondered if you were still drunk, reading too much into his words, putting meaning where there was none. He sat forward in his seat, attentive, unwavering.

You tilted your head, hoping it would give you an alternative angle to follow, a new lead into the words he'd said. With no success, you leaned back on your hands, ready to interrogate him.

"You don't have to do that," You said, prodding for more. Something substantial, something tangible to sink your teeth into. Some ground to stand on so you could tell how he really felt. "Watch out for me all the time. Especially off duty."

"Can't help it," He said. It was quiet, almost unnoticeable except you'd seen his shoulders tense.

"Why?"

He stood to his feet, and your stomach lurched. He was slow, calculating in his steps, moving closer by the second.

"Think you know."

He stopped before you, his gaze so impenetrable you almost couldn't meet his eyes. His fingers reached up, his knuckles skimming the soft surface of your cheek. You shut your eyes, an inadvertent reaction to the rough feel of his fingers. Your skin was flushed, reddened with the rush of blood your heart was pushing to every nerve.

"Because I'm a liability?" You teased, desperately wanting to ease the tension, to appear unaffected by his words, even though your arms had weakened, every bone turning to liquid inside you. You struggled to keep his gaze, to hold yourself up when he was so domineering, standing tall above you.

His eyes honed in on your lips, giving a small shake of his head. "'Cause I've always wanted you."

You inhaled deeply. It stunned you, to say the least. You'd never seen any hint of attraction from him. He was stoic and unreadable, always. But now, he bore his soul to you. Extending an offer that you were too weak to decline. The room stood still, soft exhales and invisible strain sitting in the air.

You finally met his gaze, cheeks tinged red, an exhale of relief. It was a weight off your shoulders, not having to hide anymore. Knowing he felt exactly the same.

"You've always had me, Lieutenant." You stood to your feet, your head barely meeting his shoulder, but you felt powerful, invigorated with a rush of desire.

He hummed, short, acknowledging, satisfied.

His hand moved from the apple of your cheek to the curve of your waist. His hold was strong and warm, comforting, in a way that made you shiver. A twitch in your body made him chuckle, a deep and inviting sound, that offered no relief of the chill running through your spine.

You couldn't count how many times you'd wished he'd touch you. Intentionally or not, you didn't care, you craved it. You craved the sensation, the heavy pour of molten heat that settled in every bone. The ache between your thighs, never satiated by your own hands, leaving your body to the mercy of your mind, begging and pleading for relief by some measure.

"You still drunk?" He asked, quiet and low.

You shook your head, eyes piercing his gaze with ferocity, a never ending commitment. You couldn't be drunk; not with how obvious it was that his hand was on your waist, clinging to you tightly like he'd lose you if he didn't. Your senses were sharper than they'd ever been, especially with him standing before you.

He pulled the fabric of his mask over his head, freeing his face before you. It was a sight to behold, a moment you wanted to seal in your mind and look back on for years to come. You couldn't help your teeth chewing at your lip, biting back the urge to stand on your toes and kiss him, kiss the lips you'd seen a handful of times but never complemented by his other features. He was handsome. Even more than you'd imagined; a composite of Adonis, embodiment of Ares.

He did your bidding for you, leaning over your shorter frame to bring his lips closer to yours. He waited a moment, wanting to be sure you knew exactly what he intended, what he wanted. You grew tired of the torment, and met him halfway.

He groaned; low and harsh. He absolved you of any responsibility, taking over as he tugged you into his chest. He was a towering figure above you, your neck aching as you reached up to meet his mouth. Your hands lifted to his waist, a gentle hold, still apprehensive. You'd never touched him before, never been able to glide your hands across his sides and envelop him in your arms. It felt right.

In response, his palm reached your cheek, fingers splaying out over your jaw. It was a bit rougher, more motivated. He slipped his tongue in your mouth at the same time, his heavy exhales fanning across your face. He was warm, feverish against you, his body entirely consumed with greed.

He tasted sweet, like caramel and the bitter aftertaste of alcohol still on his tongue. You hummed softly against his mouth, relishing in the moment; your bodies pressed together, lips connected fervidly, hands exploring the expanse of his torso. Your fingers slid down his abdomen, and he pulled back, still holding onto you.

"Y'look good in my shirt."

A slow, smug smile spread over your lips. "Shame you'll have to take it off me," You whispered.

You stood on your toes, pressing your lips to his again. It was an addictive rush, every time you felt the way he pulled you in, the softness in his lips.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, slowly crawling over you to pin you beneath him on the bed, pure desire between your thighs, flames flickering inside you when his gaze lowered.

You pulled the jacket off his shoulders, hands lifting his T-shirt over his head. Your eyes dropped to his stomach, breathing in the muscles lining his navel, the trail of coarse hair disappearing under his jeans, the marks and scars across his entire torso. Your hands inadvertently reached out, tracing every line and contour, his head falling down at your gentle touch.

You pulled his belt open, before he took his time lifting his T-shirt up off your body, watching with uninterrupted focus, taking in every bare inch he could see until you were left nude before him.

"Fuckin' beautiful," He whispered, his lips beside your ear, moving to leave soft kisses against your neck.

Your jugular pounded in your throat, his silken tongue finding your pulse and biting down softly. You whimpered, pulling yourself closer to him as he scattered kisses over your neck and chest. His hands engulfed your breasts, warmth erupting over your body when he left wet kisses over your nipples, a flat tongue following.

"Yes, please," You exhaled, your back arching into him.

He laid down beside you, a smooth transition when your hand on his chest pushed him back against the pillows. You climbed over his lap while he gripped your hips, staring up at you as you rocked over the bulge in his jeans.

He grunted, quickly yanking his waistband and briefs down. His cock lifted from the restraints, painfully erect, the size a bit intimidating but you'd never given up from a challenge. You leaned forward, sliding your panties aside, helping him to press the tip of his cock against your entrance, before you sat back down.

His cock slowly inched inside, an uncomfortable stretch, but you were already so aroused it quickly dissipated when your hips moved forward. He stretched his neck back, pressing into the pillows; your pussy was drenched, with soft, velvet walls that squeezed around him. He gritted his teeth.

"So big, Lieutenant," You exhaled, a guttural sound as you appreciated just how much he filled you.

"No Lieutenant shite," He groaned. "Simon-" He gulped. "Say my name, love."

You leaned over him, resting your hands against the pillows while his hands slid up to your waist. You craned your neck down to press your lips against his, your pussy gliding up and down his cock while his hands guided you.

It was a haze-inducing sight; your lips wide with pleasure, panting softly every time his cock would massage your walls, graze your clit.

"You feel good, sweetheart," He grumbled against your neck. "Fuckin' hell- that's good."

"Yes- fuck," You watched his eyes, the way he'd furrow his brows in an attempt to digest just how good you felt wrapped around him.

His free hand massaged your breasts, grabbing and palming the soft tissue as you thrust your hips against his.

"God, Simon."

"Been waitin' to hear you say my name like that," He said.

You shivered on his cock, your pussy clenching down with appreciation for his words.

You moved forward, your hips working to grind against him, to push his cock inside you, falling back with heavy exhales.

He couldn't handle the slow pace, couldn't handle the restriction- how he couldn't bury himself inside you. He flipped your bodies over, realigning himself with your pussy before diving back inside.

You groaned, clinging to his shoulders, your thighs immediately wrapping around his waist, trembling.

"Lie back," He grunted, his hips rolling against yours. "Lie back and let me take care of you, love."

Your lips parted, a satisfied moan escaping. Your hands reached his hair, fingers digging into his scalp as he thrust his cock inside you, the sounds of your well-lubricated pussy echoing around the room.

He muffled your moans with his lips, panting heavily after pulling away.

"So deep," You mumbled, "Fuck you're so deep, just like that, please."

"Like hearin' you beg, sweetheart," Another grunt.

His fingers reached down to your clit, rubbing side to side in a way that made your abdomen tense. He felt the clench of your pussy around him, letting out a low gasp against your skin.

"Christ, I dreamt about fuckin' you. Havin' you just like this."

"Simon," You whispered.

His hand gripped your thigh, angling it to penetrate deeper inside you.

"Who's this cunt belong to?" Sweat lined his brow, his fingers still moving in circles on your clit.

"Fuck," You squeezed your eyes shut, savouring just how fucking good it felt, the stimulation was enough to have you writhing beneath him, your body begging for an orgasm. "You, shit- 's all yours."

"That's my girl," He grumbled, plunging his cock inside you with even more speed now, triggering waves of pleasure that engulfed your entire body, had you moaning so loudly he covered your mouth with his hand.

"Fuck," He swore, listening to the muffled sounds of pleasure escaping your mouth. "Fuckin' hell. Let it out. I've got you."

You whimpered and whined, his cock driving into you, extending your orgasm. Your eyes rolled back, nostrils flaring as you tried to catch your breath, your thighs and fingers squeezing relentlessly against him.

He had a difficult time holding back; he so badly wanted to hear every single moan and cry that left your lips, but knew the walls were thin. He wouldn't live with himself if anyone found out, if you'd take the brunt of the relentless torment that would surely follow.

He removed his hand when he was sure you'd recovered, so close to his own release he almost didn't have time to tell you. You could read his face, see the expression of pain and pleasure.

"Wherever," You breathed. "Wherever you want."

Your words pushed him past the edge, and his hips stuttered, pressing flush against yours as he released inside you, his cock twitching with every burst.

He sucked in a harsh breath, head tilting up to stare at the ceiling. He thrusted lazily a few more times, before gently falling next to you. A few moments passed, deep breaths and contentment in the air.

"What's in your head now?" You asked, turning on your side.

He nearly smiled, "All clear, sweetheart."

[fruitywritter]

Why do you have to be so stupid?

Summary: stupidity gets you killed. (Nearly)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Tw: mentions of past suicide attempt, injured reader

Words: 3.5k

a/n: This is my second work I’ve posted here, I had wrote this a few days ago and I decided to post it. Even tho nobody’s gonna read this, but hey if you’re a reader here. Hi! 🫶🏼🥹

The sky was dark, the moon and the stars were shining bright that night. I walked through the dark alley, feeling my blood running down my stomach. The mission didn’t go as planned. It seemed that they already knew I was coming, they were ready. I put on a good fight and got the flash drive, but it wasn’t enough for me to escape. The moment I heard the gunshots and felt a sharp pain on my body, I knew that I needed to leave. They were too many, I was only one. I couldn’t call for back up. Nobody from the team knew that I was going to that mission. Fury had said it was too dangerous for someone to go alone, he was planning on bringing the whole team there in a few days. But it would be too late in a few days. I knew it was a stupid decision, but I wanted to help the team. Even though the mission was a success, my chances to survive were very low. The bullet wounds al over my body looked serious.

Standing with my back against the wall, I tried to breathe. I had already lost a lot of blood, I was feeling so weak and my vision was blurry. That was it. That was the way I would die. Not by some heroic act, but because I was an idiot for having to go alone there without telling anyone. I started to think about my friends, back at the compound. The avengers had become my family. I thought about Tony and his sarcastic comments, I thought about what he would say if he saw me like this. Tony was like a father to me, the father I never had. I thought about Steve, that old man.. He would probably lecture me if he was here, telling me that I need to think before acting.

Bruce. We were never that close with the man but I’ve always respected him. He was a very clever guy, he had also saved me from many dumb injuries. Thor. I didn’t see him that often nowadays, he had go back to Asgard something about having to deal with his idiotic brother, Loki. He would always tell me stories about other planets and people he had met. I was closer to Clint from the other guys. I could say he was a great friend and very loyal to me as I was to him. He was a great spy, and he was usually the one I trained with.

Wanda would be probably mad at me if she saw me like this. She had scolded me many times, usually when I made dumb decisions like this one. But we loved each other, we were friends since day one. We were always by each other’s side. I didn’t want to leave her alone in this world, even though she had the rest of the team. I was the only closest person to her, as she had said many times before.

And Natasha… I slid down the wall, wincing as the bullets inside me moved. I clenched my fist as I pressed down on my biggest wound. I didn’t want Natasha to see me like this. Even though she was used to seeing people dying, I couldn’t do this to her. I didn’t want to die. Natasha was a closed person, only Clint and I were able to read her as an open book. I couldn’t leave her alone. I brought my hand to my neck, touching the necklace she had gave to me. A small golden spider was hanging from it, with her initials engraved on the back of it. It was a gift for my 23rd birthday. It was the best day of my life that day.

I started thinking about how things would be after my death. I guessed I still had a bit of time left. I used to want to end it all. In my teenage years. Back then it was hard for me. I had no one to call family. No friends. I was close to that railing, so close to my death. Ready to jump off, I was so done with my life. But she was the one who saw me, she was the one who ran up to me and tried to call me down so I wouldn’t jump. And she succeeded. She saved me from killing my own self. Natasha Romanoff, she saved my life. Many times. She was my person. And I loved her.

But now she couldn’t save me. Right know she thought that I was out for a simple walk. Eventually she would start to realise something was wrong after I was gone for hours. She would start looking for me, calling me, calling the team. Then they would all search for me, until they’d finally get the news that I was dead. All because I couldn’t stop being stupid.

Looking one more time up in the sky, I whispered softly more to myself. “I’m sorry..” Breathing out, I tried to find my peace but the universe had other plans. Footsteps were heard in the distance, every second it was louder until it reached in front of me. I tried to open my eyes, trying to figure out who was standing in front of me. When I felt soft hands on my face, I opened my mouth to speak but was stopped by a familiar voice speaking louder to someone in the distance. “I found her! She’s here, come help me.”

Finally, when my eyes focused again I recognised the person in front of me. Those familiar green eyes, and the familiar red hair made me smile a bit and whisper. “Hey, love..” I watched as her lips curled up in a soft smile, but her eyes remained worried. “Hey, sweetheart..”

I went to talk but a pain on my chest kept me from speaking. Natasha was quick to notice and she pressed her palm against my cheek, carefully caressing it. “Don’t speak too much, дорогой. We will get you out of here, just hang on..” She said as she pressed her lips to my forehead and turned around as more footsteps began to appear around us.

“The jet’s ready, we can get her inside now..” I heard Steve’s voice from my left. “Is she okay?” He asked Natasha.

“She will be when we get her home. Come on guys, we need to move.” Natasha said as she gave me a soft squeeze before she stood back up. “Damn it, y/n. When will you stop being stupid..” Hearing Clint’s voice made me feel so bad. They were all worried about me, they didn’t deserve what they were going through because of me. “I’m -I’m sorry..” I whispered but it was enough for the team to hear it.

“It’s okay, y/n.. You’re gonna be okay..” A soft hand landed gently on my shoulder, caressing it carefully. I looked up to see Wanda, looking down at me. I smiled at her as the guys came closer and pulled me up. I winced and grabbed Steve’s arm to get more steady as they walked me inside the jet.

The whole flight was a blur. I remember Natasha sitting beside the bed I was laying in, holding my hand the whole time. We didn’t talk much. They had stopped the bleeding but still I had lost a lot of blood so I had to be at the hospital asap. Clint was flighting the jet, while the others were in some conversation about the flash drive I had retrieved. Wanda was sitting close to me but away enough to give me and Natasha some privacy.

I wanted to close my eyes but Natasha didn’t let me. She would say dumb things to distract me from closing them. Even though she tried to mask her emotions, I could really see right through her. I’ve learned to read her over the years, I knew when she was anxious, sad, mad, annoyed and happy. Even now that she tried to mask her anxiety and fear, it didn’t work to me.

When we got there, they quickly took me inside and brought me to the doctors. I couldn’t remember what happened exactly next. I could hear Natasha talking to me but I couldn’t hear any word that escaped her mouth. My vision blurry and not being able to feel my legs. Then everything went black.

—

I woke up by a beeping sound, trying to focus my vision to the bright light of the room. When i did that, I slowly looked around. It looked like a hospital room, a small TV in front of me on the wall, on my left a window and a door on the other side of the room. I was laying in a bed, it was comfy but my body felt numb. I heard soft snores beside me and turned my head immediately towards the noise. I relaxed when I noticed the redhead sitting in a chair beside my hospital bed, sleeping in a clearly uncomfortable position.

I tried to move but everything felt so weird, so I tried to speak. After a few tries I finally got to speak softly, hoping to not scare the green eyed woman sleeping. “Tasha..” I spoke but she didn’t even stir. So I tried again a bit louder this time. “Natasha!” I whisper-yelled. As much as I didn’t want to wake her up, I couldn’t just sit there and watch her lay there so uncomfortably.

That’s when she finally woke up, she looked around clearly confused by who woke her up. When she found my eyes she relaxed and smiled. She sat upright and took my hands, “Glad you’re awake, моя любовь.. How are you feeling?” She asked.

“I don’t know.. I feel kind of numb. What happened?” I asked her, hoping for some information. Natasha sighed and began talking, “You passed out the moment we got you inside the hospital. You had lost so much blood, y/n.. If we were late a few minutes, you wouldn’t have survived.. Thankfully, the doctors took you in immediately, saying that you needed surgery.” She paused to see my expression. It didn’t scare me at all, I was glad that I was still there. I was thankful to the doctors who saved me. I couldn’t imagine the reactions of the team if they found out I was actually dead. “They took out the bullets from your body, seven bullets y/n.” She closed her eyes, trying to calm down herself.

“How long I was out..?” I couldn’t help but ask. Natasha looked so tired, like she hadn’t slept for days. “Six days. After the surgery the doctors said that they put you into a coma so that your body would recover properly. They weren’t sure when you were going to wake up.” She let my hands and stand up from the chair, walking towards the window of the room, looking down the busy street. “The team came to visit you, all of us hoping you would wake up. Clint and Wanda stayed for a few days but I told them to go back home, staying at the hospital isn’t really that great and sleeping in a chair is also uncomfortable..”

“But you stayed..” I whispered, my face suddenly getting sad. She was really a wreck because of me.

“Of course I stayed, why wouldn’t I? I wouldn’t leave you alone, y/n.” She turned back to look at me with that sad expression. Slowly walking towards me, she crouched down beside my side, her face at the same height as mine. “I’m glad you’re okay.. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

I smiled and mumbled, “I’m glad I’m okay too..” but the next thing I felt was a slight pain on my shoulder, looking at her eyes in disbelief I said, “Did you just punch me? What was that for?!”

“That was for being stupid, you dumb idiot. Why would you go there on your own, even when Fury said that it was incredibly dangerous for one person?” She said, clearly frustrated. “And I didn’t even hit you that hard, stop being a baby.”

“Ah, fuck of..” I shook my head but quickly regretted it as I saw Natasha’s face. The murderous look she gave me made me shut up and mumble a “sorry” to her. As silence surrounded us, I decided to look back towards her. “Look.. I’m sorry, I know what I did was stupid. And I’m so sorry I made you go through all of this, that wasn’t really my intention. The plan was to finish the mission and come back home, I didn’t know that things would get bad..”

“It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re alright now.” She sighed and moved to hug my side so softly as she was afraid to hurt me. I moved slowly my arm and pulled her more into the bed, making her lay there beside me. Natasha put her head on my chest, with her strong arms around my waist. We laid there for what seemed to be an eternity, just relaxing in the presence of each other’s. We made a small talk, with her telling me that I was in big trouble when we would go back to the compound. Something about Tony being extremely mad and talking about grounding me until I was thirty. I knew he couldn’t do that, and that really made me wanna laugh. He couldn’t really ground a twenty-five year old, but it would be fun to see him trying.

A few days later I got the okay to leave the hospital, and I was over the moon. I really hated hospitals, something about them made me want to go as far away as I could from them. But with the company of Natasha’s, it was a bit more enjoyable. Wanda had visited me while I was still at the hospital, we sat for hours and talked. She was also kinda mad about my idiotic actions, at first she wouldn’t talk to me but then she gave in. Natasha gave us time to catch up and brought us lunch when it was time. Clint sadly couldn’t visit, he had gone back to his family for a few days. But he promised to be back when I got back home.

The ride home was calming, Natasha was driving with Wanda on the passenger seat. I was sitting in the back, looking out the windows. I couldn’t exactly walk with my left foot. A bullet had caused a bit of a damage there, but I had started physical therapy to make it better. As my doctor said, I would be able to start training in a few weeks. The bullet hole in my chest also started to heal faster, the one on my abdomen was a little bit bigger and it still hurt when I walked. The doctor said I needed more rest so everything would full heal.

When we arrived at the compound, I noticed Steve waiting outside. Natasha parked the car and helped me get out from the back. As Steve went to take me from her in order to get me inside, she simply gave him a look and he backed up. I nodded towards him and continued walking with Natasha inside the building. Nobody else was there so I supposed the rest of the team was in some mission. As the red head helped me up to my room, Wanda passed by to ask us if we wanted something to eat. When we kindly declined, she left and Natasha set me into my bed. “Alright, I have to do something first. Can you wait for me? It won’t be long.” She said, tucking my injured leg in some pillows. I nodded and gave her a gentle smile as I watched her leave the room.

I reached the TV remote that was beside me on the nightstand, switching it on and selecting a movie to watch while Natasha was gone. It didn’t took her long to come back and when she finally came in she had in her hands many snacks and drinks. I looked at her mesmerised, my mouth was hanging open as I watched her come and sit beside me on the bed. “What’s all of this?” I asked, even though I knew.

“Snacks! I thought it would be less boring if we watched a movie and eat together until we have to go downstairs.” She said with excitement in her voice. While I was still in shock I laid there, don’t knowing what to say. “You’re staring..” She grinned, knowing she had caught me.

Shaking my head, I looked down at my hands suddenly getting nervous around her. Still after all these years she still had that effect on me. “How can I not? You’re perfect..” I said, finally looking over her face only to see her blush. “Awh, look at you. You’re blushing! I made the Black Widow blush!!” I grinned, throwing my fist in the air like I won.

“Shut up..” Natasha said, looking away. It never got old. I liked teasing her, she wanted everyone to think like she was a baddie but in reality she really was a softie. At least when she was with me. I smiled softly, making her look at me weirdly, “Why the fuck are you smiling?” She said, trying to look serious but she failed miserably. That only made me laugh more. “Seriously, y/n.”

I threw my hands up, like I was surrendering. “Okay, okay. Sorry, no need to give me that look.” My laugh had stopped by now and I was just grinning at her. “I was smiling because I’m happy. You make me so happy, Natasha.” I sighed, gently turning my body a bit so I could face her fully. I took her hands in mine, squeezing them slightly. “And I want to thank you. Thank you for being here the past few days, you never left my side and I’m thankful for that. Also I want to thank you for being with me every day for the past few years. You saved my life so many times, because of you I’m still here.” I watched as her eyes watered but she didn’t dare to speak so I continued. “You know I was in a place where there was no escape, I was so done with life. I didn’t have anyone by my side. No one to call my person, no one to talk to about my problems. But you Natasha, you came into my life and helped me to understand that life’s worth living. Damn it, you made me scared of death. You know how fucking scared I was in that alley? I had realised that I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want to leave you alone. I wanted to live, I wanted to stay here with you. I wanted us to keep having picnic dates, movie nights together, to spend time together doing absolutely nothing. I wanted us to keep sleeping together at night, to keep waking up together in the mornings. I wanted you to keep yelling at me whenever I made a stupid decision, to see your face when you were so mad at me for something so dumb. But more importantly I wanted to be able to see again that smile,” I motioned to her face. Tears spilling down her cheeks as she tried not to cry. I took a breath before speaking again. “Natasha Romanoff, you make me want to live. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I can’t believe that I can’t go a day without seeing those beautiful eyes. You mean everything to me and I don’t know how long it took me to realise it but I can say now that I’m literally so fucking in love with you.” I finished, softly looking at her.

“Love..” She paused as her voice broke. “I’m so in love with you too.. So much..” After hearing those words my heart jumped, I shot towards her taking her in my arms and holding her. I pulled away from the hug, catching her lips with mine, kissing her slowly with love. Honestly it was one of these moments where Natasha would be so comfortable with me that she let herself cry in front of me. Being vulnerable in front of me. And I loved that, not that she cried. But because she was comfortable enough to show her true self, she was open about her feelings.

Natasha Romanoff, was in love with me. And I was in love with her. And it only took for me to nearly die for us two to accept it and confess it to each other. But now, that all of this was over, that I was okay and alive with my girl beside me. I felt like I could win everything.

[babyhatesreality]

OKAY HOW ABOUT A LITTLE ONE THAT LOVES SHARING HER FOOD WITH EVERYONE IN THE ROOM AND ESPECIALLY WITH HER DADDIES

Soo maybe a scenario or headcanon where the reader start with sharing her veggies with her daddies but after a while she start sharing food that she likes so when there at the avenger tower and its Lunch time she wanna give petie and the other a bit of her food and wann give her daddies a bit of her favorite food so she grabs a bit and hold it to her daddies mouth 😻

Oh, this is an adorable thought, you cute Nonnie you...

Sharing is Caring

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, language, fluffity fluff fluff fluff.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

Bucky had never seen your eyes so wide before. He chuckled softly, thoroughly enjoying your incredulous delight.

"Dat's....for me?" you asked in a hushed tone, completely in awe of something so wondrous.

Bucky had to bite the inside of his cheek from outright laughing. They had found some individual snack packs of mini Chips Ahoy cookies the last time they went grocery shopping, and had packed them as a post-lunch treat today. They'd brought you up to the work floor with them, as it was just boring paperwork today. Knowing how much you loved your cookies, the small bags seemed like a good idea to try. They had no idea you'd react with such reverence.

Your little mind was BLOWN. A whole bunch of little chocolate chip cookies in a pretty blue bag, and all for you??? It was too much. You were overwhelmed with the indescribable majesty of it all.

"Yeah, it's for you, munchkin," Bucky said gleefully, his grin threatening to split his face. "You can have the whole bag since you finished all your fruit." He opened the bag and held it out to you.

You took it as carefully as if it were a Faberge Egg. Bucky had to pretend like he had an itchy nose- using his hand to cover his mouth as your complete and total wonder was so damned cute that it was making him giggle like a schoolgirl. He wondered how long you'd actually be able to keep quiet about this.

He didn't have to wonder for long.

You shrieked with absolute delight, jumped up and down, and then absolutely hurtled yourself at Bucky, who caught you with a laugh. "TANK YOU TANK YOU TANK YOOOOOOOU!" you screamed delightedly, hugging your Daddy as hard as you could. You let him go and popped one cookie into your mouth. It was so little and it was so good and it was the BEST. You looked back into the bag. There were SO MANY in there. You carefully extracted one, and held it up to Bucky. "Here, Daddy!"

Bucky smiled and shook his head. "Those are yours, baby, they're for you."

"But I wanna share!" you said, jumping up and down. "C'mere! Open!!" Laughing at your sweet impatience, Bucky leaned down and opened his mouth as requested. With a squeal of delight, you popped it into his mouth, then surprised him with a quick kiss on the nose. "Tank you!! Chew good!" you shrieked over your shoulder as you tore out of the room, on a mission. You just heard Bucky laugh at your instructions as you skidded into the next room.

"GUYS LOOK!" you shrieked with joy, holding your small bag aloft. Peter, Wanda, and Pietro turned around, curious, but were just as excited as you were when they realized the treasure that you held. You shared one with each of your friends, in turn, before running out of the room and back to Papa's office. You yelled 'hi' to all your friends and family as you ran past them in your delight, and they all knew you well enough to step to the side as you barreled down the hallway to your destination.

Steve sighed patiently. He could hear you blazing your typical path of destruction towards him. He loved your carefree and playful spirit, but was constantly afraid that you were going to get hurt in your exuberance. You flew into his office, looking more wound-up than usual.

"Hi Papa! Guess what??"

"Hi Baby. Whatever it is, it must have been important for you to be running around the floor like that."

"Oh. Oops. Sorry, I forgotted again."

"Yeah, I figured. What's up, pup?"

You giggled at the little rhyme and the resigned but loving look on his face. "Lookit da COOKIES!!!" You made a show of clearly walking- not running- towards him, and he grinned at the strained look on your face as you fought against your natural cheetah instincts. Once you got next to him through, you flung yourself into his lap, scrambling and squirming to pull yourself upright. Steve gave you little assists here and there, and put his arms around you once you got to your destination. "Here, I wanna share with you please!"

"That is so sweet, baby, thank you." He couldn't say anything else as you dug one out of the bag and tapped it against his lips. He made a funny face at you, then started pretending that his lips were glued together. He tilted his head at your, his eyes playfully twinkling. You giggled, then laughed as he teased you by not opening his mouth, and playing like he couldn't. You ended up smashing the cookie flat to his lips and pressing it in, not letting up, screaming with laughter. Finally Steve "pried" his lips apart and let you push the cookie in, then tickled you as you continued to laugh like crazy.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's going on in here?" A deep voice startled you. You stopped laughing, twisting around. "There's not this much happiness allowed on this floor." Nick Fury was standing there with his arms crossed, but you could see a hint of a smile on his face. You hopped off your Papa's lap and skipped around the desk to stand at the Director's feet. Ever since he'd declared you a part of the family, you absolutely LOVED him and always enjoyed a moment to bask in his coolness.

"Hi Mr. Nick!" you said happily, completely unaffected by his tough guy demeanor. "Here, I wanna give you something!" You held up a cookie to him. You might not have been afraid of him, but there was no way that you were going to ask him to open his mouth like your Papa and your Daddy.

Nick took it from your hand with a low chuckle. "Well, thank you, little one. How'd you know I love mini cookies so much?" He looked at you curiously when you got a very, very serious look on your face.

"I am about to blow your mind then," you said, completely solemnly. You held up the cookie bag for him to inspect, inwardly thrilled. You knew that you were about to change Nick Fury's life forever with your little blue packaged miracle.

[eternalmoonlight18]

Please Please Please (Don't Prove 'Em Right) Chapter 6

Trafaglar Law x afab Female!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter warnings: slight mentions of doing the nasty. MDNI!

Summary:

You are the Heart Pirates' beloved cook and sniper. However, you were also an insufferable troublemaker who always seemed to get on Law's nerves. He swears he's going to get rid of you one day, but as much as he hates it, why does he find you fascinating? Was it because you reminded him of someone he was greatly fond of?

As your relationship with Law grows, he only hopes you don't fucking embarrass him. After all, he has an image to uphold as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

This story starts off as short stories between (Y/N), Law and the Heart Pirates, then picks up into the One Piece canon timeline, starting from Punk Hazard. This is a slow-burn Law x Female Reader story!

Updates every Monday!

Cross-posted in Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57651295/chapters/146705491

Chapter 6: Chicken Feet

Chapter summary: You and Law leave the crew behind to journey to Punk Hazard. You meet Monet, but seeing Law and Monet together makes you uneasy. Chaos ensues when your jealousy reaches to new heights each time you catch them together.

A/N: HELLO! Thank you so much for your patience friends! Writer's block is gone and it's time to get rolling! This story is canon-compliant, but it's not going to follow the actual story 100%. This isn't proofread so yeah sorry lol

Also CW/TW: slight mentions of the nasty if you squint, use your imagination folks.

I also created a taglist. Let me know if you want to be a part of it!

wc: 4k

You were instantly hit with regret when you and Law stepped foot at Punk Hazard. It was a month since you and the captain dropped off the crew at Zou to assist him in his mission to stop Doflamingo, but you desperately wanted to turn around and return for them. But it was too late, and Law seemed amused with the sight of you shivering in the vast cold land of the half of Punk Hazard. 

"Wow, it's not that cold here," Law said sarcastically as he walked towards a large door by a mountainside. While keeping his head forward, you saw him look at you with a smirk on his lips. Annoyed by your captain's sarcastic remark, you stooped to the ground to grab a handful of snow and chucked it at the back of Law's black coat. The man chuckled, clearly unbothered by your tantrum.

"Shut up! If you told me that we would travel to the fucking Arctic, I would've dressed better!" you comically spat at him. 

"I told you (Y/n)-ya, you should've worn that boiler suit." the man tutted back at you.

There was no arguing that. You fought tooth and nail against your captain on wearing anything else but those damned boiler suits, and now you're paying the price for it. So you opted for a cute black fur coat that went down to your knees and black leggings, but it was not enough to keep you warm in the insane cold environment of Punk Hazard 

"I'd rather die than wear those ugly boiler suits! We're not with the crew anyway!" you argued back.

You and Law now stood in front of a giant steel door. With his slender finger, Law knocked on the door. A few seconds passed before the door scrapped open, revealing a pale white man with spiked black hair. He stood very tall, but he didn't have any legs as it was replaced with gas. His yellow eyes bore into you and Law before his lips turned into a sinister smile.

"Well well well! What do we have here? Shuorororo!" the man creepily giggled. "A warlord at my doorstep? I'm honoured!" Then he took a look at you who was behind Law, and his eery smile widened even more. "And you brought along a sweet treat!"

"Caesar Clown. I came here for some business with you." Law said with a calm demeanour. Although he spoke professionally, there was a slight tone of aggressiveness. "I've heard about your production in SMILE fruits and SAD and I'm greatly intrigued. So, I'm offering that we can be business partners, to help you with production and distribution."

"And why should I engage in a partnership with you?" Caesar questioned.

The tattooed doctor hummed before he gave his answer. "You can use my Warlord status as protection."

The pale man smirked, "I already work for a Warlord. I won't disclose his name, but the JOKER already compensates me well."

"What about extra protection from another Warlord?" you piped up behind your captain.

The two men looked at you. Law stared at you with amusement while Caesar held a bewildered expression.

"That doesn't seem to be a bad idea. Good thinking (Y/n)-ya." your captain said with praise. He then turned his head back at the gaslike man. "The JOKER may be a good employer, but he will backstab you Caesar-ya. But with me, I can be that backup plan just in case things go wrong with your little business, hm?"

"Little?! For your information, my work is greatly sought after! I am the second-best scientist in the world and my work and weaponry directly supply an Emperor of the Seas!" Caesar scoffed.

You stepped up and took your place beside Law. "More of a reason to partner with my captain! If all goes to shit with the production of SAD, who do you think is first to blame?" you piqued up.

That seemed to get the mad scientist thinking. "Well well. You're not just a pretty face after all. Shurorororo!" 

Even though you cringed at the compliment, you couldn't help but swell with pride, seeing that Law gave you a tiny smile of appreciation your way. 

"The two of you come inside! I'm warming up to this idea of being business partners with another Warlord..."Caesar started to ramble as he ushered the two of you inside the facility.

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

You really wanted to go back to the Polar Tang now.

The facility wasn't bad at all. Everything was provided: space, a place to rest, and food. But you felt that something suspicious was going on and you couldn't figure out what it was. Law refused to tell you why he wanted to stay on Punk Hazard, but you understood it was all to avoid compromising the mission. He even exchanged his heart with Monet, another person staying in Punk Hazard, so that no one could betray one another.

Speaking of Monet, you hated the woman. Something about here didn't sit right with you, but you couldn't figure out why.

As you walked the laboratory corridors, you spotted that a research room had its door slightly cracked open. Curiosity got to you, prompting you to peek inside. Standing at the door, you touched your chest and muttered 'Calm'. With the newfound Devil Fruit powers you gained a month ago, you could take away sound from yourself and your environment. And it proved very useful now that you were peeking in this room.

There, Monet was sitting on a chair, writing notes on a desk. To her left, was Law, sitting on a couch to her right and Caesar was standing in front of him. They were engaged in a conversation, and you couldn't help but listen in.

"So, you're Trafalgar Law. Also known as the Surgeon of Death. You hail from the North Blue. You ate the Op-Op Fruit." she spoke as she was writing away.

Law glanced at her as she continued to speak. "You also brought your subordinate, (Y/n). A formidable sniper and a cook at the Heart Pirates. She hails from the East Blue. You said she ate a Devil Fruit recently but no information about its type."

Monet turned from her chair to face the two men to her right. "There are former prisoners that are on this island who were affected by a poison gas. Can you heal them?" she asked. 

Your captain continued to stare at her. Meanwhile, Caesar continued the conversion. "I'll let you and your subordinate stay here, so long as you assist me and don't tell anyone else about this lab. Are we clear Trafalgar?" 

"So be it. Also, you are not to tell anyone that (Y/n)-ya and I are here. That includes Joker alright?" Law said firmly.

A light giggle passed Monet's lips. "Caesar, I say that it's fine that he stays here. Besides, he's cute," she said as she threw a wink in Law's direction, much to his dismay. 

An unpleasant shiver went down your spine as your chest started to tighten. 

Now you really didn't like her. That was strike one. 

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

 A week slowly went by as you and Law stayed at the Laboratory. You found out that there were children and giant children, who were staying at the lab because Caesar said he was finding a cure for them. Of course, you didn't believe him, and you took it upon yourself to find out that the kids were actually guinea pigs for Caesar and his messed up experiments. But with your given circumstance, you knew that Law had a plan to take down Caesar and the SAD factory, so it was a matter of being patient with him. So the most you could do right now was feed the kids and keep them safe. 

Tonight, you made the kids spaghetti and meatballs, and when you presented it to them in the Biscuit Room, which was where they were staying, they all cheered joyfully.

A small smile graced your lips as you watched the kids eat the dinner they made you.

"This is amazing (Y/n)!" a giant girl named Mocha exclaimed. She wolfed down her portions and reached out her bowl to you. "Seconds please!"

"Good thing I made two buckets full of spaghetti, you kids got big appetites!" you giggled as you gave the girl another portion. 

"I'm so glad you came here! The food you make is awesome!" A blond boy named Sind cheered.

The rest of the kids shouted with joy as they continued to eat. As you were serving the kids their second portions, you didn't realize that Law walked into the room and made his way beside you.

"Oh, hello Mr. Snow Leopard!" A giant kid named Konbu called out.

You turned your head to see your captain with a sour face. He was not fond of the nickname the kids had given him.

"Hey, Captain Snow Leopard. Fancy you seeing here." you teased.

"Don't be copying these brats too (Y/n)-ya, address me properly." he scowled. 

A cackle left your lips while you prepared a plate for him. "Oh, don't be mean. You know these kids are going through a hard time by being here, and we're the only ones decent enough to take care of them."

"You're forgetting that Monet takes care of them as well," he answered back as he reached out to take the plate of spaghetti from your hands.

The smile on your face fell as Monet's name was mentioned. Your grip on the plate tightened as Law tried to take it.

"I see that you're getting comfortable with Monet, are you captain?" you said in a high-pitched voice, laced with discontent. A smile appeared on your face again, but it was clear that you were irritated.

"I would like a plate of spaghetti please." your captain said as he tried to pull the plate away from your iron grip. 

"Hm, I don't feel like giving it to you now." you singsonged. You pulled the plate away from his tattooed hand and gave it to Mocha instead.

"Are you mad at me?" Law gritted, clearly irritated by your actions.

"I don't know Cap, did you do something to piss me off?" you shot back at him.

The doctor grabbed the collar of your black jacket and brought your face close to his. "Don't start this again (Y/n)-ya. If you have an issue then spit it out." he lowly said. 

You raised your right hand which was holding a pair of tongs, and smacked Law's head with it. The tattooed captain let go of his grip on you and proceeded to clutch his head as he stumbled back in surprise.

"You're a smart man, figure it out yourself!" you shouted at him. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Law shouted back.

The two of you grabbed each other's collars and started to hurl more insults at each other.

The children watched the quarrel between you and Law with amusement. They started to whisper amongst themselves.

"They're funny!"

"They remind me of my mom and dad. Now I miss them..."

"Wow, I've never seen (Y/n) this mad before, it's funny!"

You and the tattooed captain were butting heads until Monet made her way into the Biscuit Room.

"Time for your candy!" she called out. The kids dropped their plates and proceeded to run toward the green haired woman. 

Pulling away from your captain's collar, you started to clean up the plates and utensils littered on the floor. "There's your woman," you muttered while cleaning up.

"Hm?" Law said, "What did you say?"

"Hi, Monet! Did you want some spaghetti? I made some for dinner!" you called out while ignoring Law.

Monet made her way to you. "Oh, I would love some!" Then she looked at Law and smiled. "If you haven't eaten yet, would you like to join me for dinner Trafalgar?" 

Law 'tched' in response. In the corner of Monet's eye, she saw your face deepen into a scowl. The sight of you being mad made her smile

That fucking woman was pushing you buttons and she was enjoying it. The handle of the pot started to crack as your hand gripped as tight as ever in anger. However, you managed to shove down your emotions and flashed a fake smile towards her and Law. The doctor raised his eye in skepticism as he saw you set down the pot and prepare two plates of spaghetti.

"Oh, how nice would that be? Here you go! You two enjoy dinner!" you said with fake cheerfulness. Shoving the plates into their hands, you quickly scrambled to set the plates and pots into the rolling cart and sped out of the Biscuit Room. 

"Thank you (Y/n)! Your cooking is always delicious!" Monet thanked you.

The tattooed captain just stared at your back as you were leaving the room. He knew something was up with you. Sighing in exhaustion, he brushed your behaviour aside as he started to think about the mission he was currently in. 

Unbeknownst to Monet and Law, you were unbelievably angry and veins started to pop on your forehead as you made your way back into the kitchen. Heavy stomps echoed throughout the hallway as you angrily pushed the food trolley. With your hands tightly gripping onto the trolley bar, you took a deep breath and sighed. 

That was strike two. One more strike and you were going to beat both of their asses to the snowy grounds of Punk Hazard. 

------------- 

You heard that Law agreed to give Caesar's henchmen limbs. It was one of the conditions that Caesar implemented for you and the captain to stay at Punk Hazard, aside from exchanging the literal hearts of Law and Monet to prevent backstabbing.

So when you were walking across the halls of the laboratory and heard the deathly screams of grown men echo throughout, you weren't surprised. 

"Looks like the captain is performing surgery today." you giggled as you skipped along the hallway. Deciding that you wanted to see the disembodiment in action, you quickly followed the sounds of agony. But as you were nearing the door, the screaming suddenly halted. As you slowed down your pace, you quietly made your way to the door and heard light shuffling and Monet's voice, You leaned up against the door with your right ear to listen.

"Alright, I'm ready Trafalgar," Monet said. "Are you sure this won't hurt?"

More shuffling was heard until Law spoke up. "First time? Don't worry, I'll stick it in slowly."

Your entire body froze as your mouth dropped in horror. "What the hell are they doing in there?!" you hissed to yourself. 

You heard a light grunt and a sharp inhale. More shuffling.

"Oh my, that's kind of big now that I look at it," Monet commented. "It feels weird too."

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," You heard Law reply. "Now, hold still, I'm going to shove it in."

Oh that was it. That was strike three. And you know what they say. Three strikes and you’re out. And by out you meant that you were going to kill your captain and that green-haired witch.

Your mind short-circuited as you assumed that your captain and that damned woman were up to no good. With your mind and heartbeat going 100 miles per hour, you grabbed the handle and swung the door wide open, screaming; "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THERE?!"

And as soon as you laid your eyes upon Law and Monet, your heart stopped and your feet were stuck in place.

There they were, with Law's back facing you and the green-haired woman lying on her back on the couch. The doctor's left tattooed hand was holding onto her right leg which was up in the air. Your captain's face was turned to you with his face widening in horror, and Monet tilted her head to the left to look at you. 

What set you off was when Monet glanced at you, her long green hair was dishevelled.

Steam started to blow through your ears as you glared hole into Law and Monet. Your entire body started to shake uncontrollably as your chest heaved up and down aggressively.

Realizing that he was caught in a position that already caused a great misunderstanding, Law quickly let go of the leg he was holding onto and scrambled to make your way towards you. What you failed to see was that Monet's left leg was now replaced with a giant talon.

"(Y/n)-ya, you can't just barge into here while-" he started but you cut him off.

"CAPTAIN TRAFALGAR LAW! WHAT IN NEPTUNES GREAT BEARD ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT BITCH?!" you bellowed. 

Unable to think straight, you stomped past your captain headed towards the large bird talon on the desk in front of the couch. As you picked it up with your right hand, you whipped your head to glare at the insufferable woman lying on the couch.

"You've got some nerve seducing my captain like that!" you shrieked as you swung the limb towards Monet. She promptly dodged your attack and screamed, running away from the couch and onto the other side of the room.

"(Y/n)! It's not what you think! He just-" she started to explain before you swung at her again.

"I don't want to fucking hear it!" you screeched as you chased the poor limping woman around the room.

"Shambles!" Law grunted. And as soon as he said it, you swung the talon once more towards Monet, only to knock down a bookshelf onto the floor.

You whipped your head to face the captain once more. Law shuddered as he saw your eyes glimmer with hate. It was screaming bloody murder, and he was on the receiving end of it.

"YOU! Oh, you've got some nerve! You men disgust me!" you screeched as you stomped towards the doctor. With your left foot planted in front, your right arm swung up, reading to assault the man with the bird limb.

"(Y/n)-ya wait! Whatever you're thinking, we didn't do it!" he yelped as he jumped to the side to avoid your attack. However, he didn't know that you were quick enough to see through his actions and the back of the talon hit him on the side of his head, which successfully smacked him to the ground.

Your left hand reached out to the pistol that was hoisted on your hip. You drew it out and pointed it to the man on the floor, "Falling for a woman like that? How despicable! I-!" you started to lecture, but your voice drowned out as you realized that your outburst of anger took all the energy out of you.

"I-" you started to speak but your voice failed you. As your hand fell back to your side, you started to wonder why you acted like that. Even if they had something between them, it wasn't your place to care, unless you were...

"...Jealous? Are you jealous (Y/n)-ya?" Law called out as you returned to your senses. The discomfort that once reflected in his eyes was replaced with amusement as his mouth raised in a smirk.

Your eyes widened at the revelation as your heart started to pound. A bright red flush appeared on your cheeks.

"There's no way," you muttered. The limb that once was on your hand dropped to the ground as you stumbled back in shock. Glancing at Law, who now stood up with his arms crossed, you shot a nasty glare as the smirk on his face widened even more. 

"Why would I be jealous?! I was just protecting your dignity!" you sputtered. The captain made a stride towards you as he chuckled.

"What a stupid reason. You expect me to believe that?" he teased. 

He was now looming in front of you as you backed up to a wall. Your head was bowed down in embarrassment as you refused to look into his steel grey eyes. 

"I wasn't jealous..." you lowly muttered.

"Somehow that's not believable," Law answered back. He dipped his head to your eye level so that he could make eye contact with you, but you whipped your head to the side, still refusing to meet his eyes.

Amused by your sudden 180-degree change in mood, your captain stood straight up, placed his hand on the back of your head, and kissed your forehead.

The once freezing temperature of the laboratory now skyrocketed into a burning hot sensation as Law made an out-of-character advance toward you. Whipping your head up to face Law, your face was now burning hot with more embarrassment.

"Captain! What was that for?" you yelped in surprise.

Law simply chuckled. "Sometimes, I wonder what goes on on that interesting head of yours. One minute you're beating me with a bird limb and then the next I find out it's because you're jealous."

You shoved away the man in front of you and pouted. "I am NOT jealous! I just had to straighten you up and remind you that we're on a mission here!"

"Oh please, if anything, you were the one who forgot that we had a mission (Y/n)-ya." he retorted. 

"Whatever, now help me clean up this mess," you sneered as you proceeded to pick up the fallen books that you knocked down from your rampage. The tattooed captain chuckled and proceeded to assist you in a comfortable silence for a while before he spoke up again.

"(Y/n)-ya?" he said as he hoisted up the fallen bookshelf.

"Yeah what is it cap," you said with disinterest as you continued to collect the fallen items. 

"You know you'll always have me right?" he announced.

Your heart picked up slightly at the confession. Then A smile graced your lips as you turned your head to face Law. "Shut up and put that bookshelf up, Cap," you finally said as you tried to dismiss your feelings. 

The captain sighed as he shook his head. A rumble of laughter started to escape his chest, and you followed suit. Amidst the chaos that happened in one of the laboratory rooms, you and Law couldn't help but share one of the many moments you had with one another, even though the two of you were far away from home.

----------

Bonus Scene:

In the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates were nowhere to be seen. That was because all of them were inside the captain's quarters, staring at a small book at the captain's desk. The cover of the book read 'Journal'.

"So, should we open it?" Penguin asked, with his hand hovering over the notebook. 

"Yeah man, let's do it!" Shachi affirmed.

"Guys, what if the captain finds out?" Bepo chittered.

"You idiot, there's no way he'd find out if he's not here!" Ikkaku chided the Mink.

"Sorry..." Bepo muttered.

 Penguin picked up the book and slowly opened it. "Alright you guys, here we go..."

Everyone leaned in and peered over Penguin's shoulders as the notebook opened. As soon as the first page was opened, a bunch of folded envelopes fell out and scattered on the ground. The entire crew crouched down and picked them up.

"It's addressed to (Y/n)," Hakugan announced.

"This one too." Jean Bart said.

"This one as well!" Uni called out.

"Wait a minute, are these all love letters for (Y/n)? And he never gave them to her?" Shachi said bewilderedly.

"Guys, captain's journal is just filled with yearning for (Y/n)!" Penguin cackled as he skimmed through Law's journal.

The whole crew burst into laughter as they crowded around Penguin once more to read what the captain had to say about you.

----------

TAGLIST:

@hopelesslover06 @shakysif @eyes-ofhell @letmereadchristonabike @bi-narystars @valval08 @urbisexualfriend @emmaiscool22 @deathsmajestysworld @sp1ng @kitsunechan707 @orange-milky

[the-lonelybarricade]

What Do You Know About Love? - (1/?)

Summary: When Elain discovers a centuries old love letter, written in secret and never sent, she decides that she's going to be the one to finally deliver it. Even if finding its intended recipient means going on a mission with Lucien Vanserra. Set post ACoSF.

A contribution to @elucienweekofficial Day 1: Fated!

Chapter 1 - The Tide of Destiny

Read on AO3

-

The sea was never particularly calming to Elain.

And in her bedroom in Velaris, no matter how desperately she tried, she couldn’t escape its call.

As a human, the distance between the docks and the river house would have rendered its sound indiscernible. But with her sensitive fae hearing, the sea leaked through her window—despite how firmly she’d shut it before going to bed. She’d woken to its sound, how it stirred something restless and uncertain inside her.

Now, engulfed in the darkness of her drawn bed curtains, she could hear the waves lapping against the seaside on the other side of the city. She knew that if she shut her eyes, if she tried to go back to sleep, it would be impossible to distinguish between her bedroom and the shore. Some nights she would hear the swelling tide and dart upwards with a gasp, convinced it would crash over the sheets and drag her into its dark, bottomless depths.

Some nights, like tonight, she convinced herself it was not the sea calling to her at all—it was the lapping waters of the Cauldron, intent on dragging her back into its icy shackles to strip and tear at her humanity again.

Madja had once suggested that when those fears became potent, Elain could try summoning pleasant memories of the sea, instead. And as Elain stayed up trembling in bed that night, she tried to muster happy memories. She did.

Their family once lived at a charming manor by the sea. It should have been easy to think of just one moment of joy. She didn’t consider those years unhappy, though when raking her memory for anything relating to the sea itself, she could only recall one particularly unhappy day.

She remembered the smell of salty air, borne partially from the wind that blew off the harbor and stopped to tangle in her curls, but also from the tears wetting her cheeks. They worsened the longer she stared at the dockworkers hauling supply crates across the gangplank and onto The Asphodelos, her father’s merchant ship. It was the day he was leaving on a three month voyage to the continent.

Elain stood at the dockside, her favorite doll clutched tightly to her chest, and watched with wide, watery eyes as the crew raised one of the anchors at the bow of the ship. Summoned by the rattling chains, two dark claws raised from the inky surface as if a great creature had scooped at the bottom of the harbor to reveal a handful of dripping, oily sediment.

She wondered if the same creature didn’t reach into the depths of her chest, dredging up an emotion so thick and black it surely belonged at the bottom of the seabed.

In their father’s absence, Elain and her sisters would be handed to the company of their Grandmamma, governess, and nursemaids while their mother enjoyed her newfound liberties—as she called it—by making all number of visits to friends and distant relatives. During that time, Nesta would be swept away by their Grandmamma, who insisted on seizing the opportunity to offer her tutelage, and Feyre would be more inclined to run barefoot through the gardens than attend Elain’s tea parties.

Elain���s only true company would be in the form of her pink-cheeked, browned haired doll, which was a gift her father had brought from his last voyage to the continent. That was Elain’s only comfort as their family stood at the dockside to see him off—that in a matter of months, he might return with another friend from a faraway land and a fantastical story she would beg him to repeat until it was renewed during his next epic adventure.

So unlike Nesta, Elain wasn’t scowling towards their father’s back, furious with him for leaving. Nor was she like Feyre, squirming on the hip of their nursemaid, the elderly woman’s arms tightly locked around the youngest Archeron’s lithe frame to keep her from dashing down the docks and pitching over the side. Feyre was always far more interested in climbing atop places she shouldn’t than appreciating the sentiment of the occasion.

But Elain—she stared out with eyes fixed on her father and edged as close to the water as the frayed rope would allow. She clutched her doll against her chest in an attempt to soothe the ache building beneath it. Soon, their father would walk over and kiss each of them farewell, and Elain would watch his ship until its billowing sails faded into the horizon.

It was as they were waiting on a dock that a man lugging a barrel of sloshing liquid shouted at their family to move aside. Their mother grasped the sleeve of Elain’s dress, yanking her back with such force that the doll slipped from Elain’s grasp and plummeted into the dark water below.

Her tears were instantaneous—small, hiccuping sobs that surged into wails the second she registered that no one was moving to retrieve the doll. The crew continued loading the ship, oblivious or uncaring, while Elain’s mother scrunched her nose and nudged Elain toward the nursemaid holding Feyre.

The nursemaid gave a cooing noise and shifted Feyre on her hip so that she could extend one plump arm to Elain, drawing her closer with a soft hand at the back of her head. Elain clutched the skirts of her nursemaid's dress and barrelled forward to smother her tears against the fabric.

“What’s happened?”

Recognizing her father’s voice, Elain lifted her head with a weak sniffle.

“Wee thing’s lost her doll,” answered the nursemaid, rubbing a soothing circle into the center of Elain’s back. “Plopped straight into the water, it did.”

“Oh, my dear Elain.” Their father dropped to one knee, meeting Elain’s height so that he could carefully take one of her much smaller hands into his own. “Don’t fret,” he soothed, reaching to chase away a few of the tears rolling down her cheeks. “The things we lose are never truly gone. Have patience, and perhaps one day your doll will find its way back to you.”

Fortunately, Elain was a patient child. And she happened to excel at listening to her father. With her tears abated, she nodded and waited the many weeks of her father’s voyage. Upon his return, he brandished a beautiful doll from behind his back.

See, Elain? I found her on the continent. The tides must have carried her there, so that she could be reunited with you.

Elain’s doll had bright, clever brown eyes, much like her own. But the one she was handed from her father had eyes like a frozen lake, more like her sisters Nesta and Feyre. She noticed this, and frowned, but accepted the doll anyway.

She learned that sometimes lost things do come back, but not quite the same as they once were.

Now, sitting in the dark of her bedroom with nothing else to occupy her mind, Elain pulled at the aching threads of all the things she’d lost that would never come back. Her mother, her father, her human life.

Graysen.

The sting of that name lessened with time, but it was not so reduced that she didn’t hiss through her teeth as it clanged through her.

Deciding she would never get any sleep in this state of mind, Elain threw the blankets open and scrambled off the bed. The Inner Circle would likely still be awake. They’d all kept odd hours since Nyx was born and she often heard their laughter drifting through the floorbeds well past midnight. She knew that one member, in particular, rarely slept at all.

That thought nearly convinced her to stay inside her room. She didn’t wish to see any of them, not at the moment, and least of all…

Elain shrugged on a robe and hastily tied it around her waist, resolving that she was unlikely to encounter anyone on the way to the library. And in there, she could sit and read and sip tea until her exhaustion overpowered her agitation.

It was a good plan. It might have been effective, if she hadn’t been drawn short halfway down the hall by the sight of a tall male standing at the far end of the corridor, staring at a piece of fabric in his hand.

He lifted his head at her approach, and froze the moment he saw her. He was wearing his hair bound, all of it tied in a scarlet knot at the back of his head. She was used to seeing it down, spilling like ringlets of flame over his shoulders and always partially covering the brutal, slashing scar through his left eye. She didn’t know what to make of the sight of his face, completely unobstructed.

Every time Elain saw him, it was like being struck in the stomach. She couldn’t breathe—and if she did, it would mean inhaling his scent and making the whole ordeal of looking at him infinitely, insufferably worse.

“Elain,” he said. His eyes—one russet and one mechanical—scraped over her, scrutinizing every detail.

She hated how he said her name. Always on a breath, like he was being struck in the stomach at the sight of her, too.

The same emotions played out over his face that she felt waring deep in her chest—surprise, delight, uneasiness. She didn’t know he’d be here. Feyre usually warned her in advance of his visits, and even then it was odd for him to be here so late in the evening, when he had his own apartment to retire to.

Lucien cleared his throat, breaking both of them from their trance. “Having difficulty sleeping, Lady?”

There was an edge to his voice that caused Elain to shift onto her backfoot. She didn’t know why he was asking, when he would already know through whatever perverse magic tied them together. The same way she knew when he was sleeping. Or when he was extraordinarily happy, which was rare. And extraordinarily sad, which was often.

He would know in the same way she knew that in this very moment, though it perplexed her, Lucien Vanserra was seething with anger.

If not for the mating bond announcing his every extreme emotion, she still would have been able to read it plainly on his face. His red brows were pinched together, his teeth gritted, and the fabric in his hand, which he’d been staring at with alarming intensity before she’d gotten there, was gripped so tightly that each of his brown knuckles turned a soft pale color.

A dozen questions flitted through her mind. She wasn’t sure which to ask him, which he would answer. Questions were tedious. They could imply interest where there was none, or venture their conversation towards truths she was in no state to hear.

She settled with, “I didn’t know you were in Velaris.”

He crumpled the fabric in his hand until it was obscured entirely within his fist. “I winnowed in an hour ago.”

Elain’s pulse jumped in her throat. “Why so late?”

The last time Lucien had been summoned to Velaris with such urgency, it was after Feyre had nearly died in childbirth. If there was an emergency, surely someone would have come to wake her?

Lucien shifted, glancing at his closed fist as if waging some internal conflict. Then he released a long breath. “Rhysand wanted to meet at this hour—he requested discretion.”

Discretion from who? No one in the house would be asleep at this time. No one besides…

She chewed her lip, uncertain if she should be affronted. Did Rhysand think he was doing her a favor by summoning Lucien at this hour, so that they needn’t encounter each other? Or—and she knew in her heart it was more likely—Feyre and her husband were deliberately hiding something from her. If she asked Lucien, would he reveal it to her? Would she even want to know?

“If you’re trying to be discreet,” she asked, trying to make her voice sound light, “then why have I found you wandering around upstairs where anyone might find you?”

Lucien looked at her then, with an understanding that made her want to shrivel inside herself. She thought he would say that he knew. That he’d felt her panic, and knew that she would be awake, wandering the halls to escape the waves roaring in her ear.

Instead he held up his fist, opening it to reveal a balled-up handkerchief. “I found this,” he said. “I presume it belongs to you.”

He extended it to her and Elain retrieved it warily, careful to only touch the fabric and not any part of his skin. The last time she’d accidentally brushed her fingers against his, it’d felt as if she’d plunged them into an open flame. It wasn’t a sensation she’d been able to forget.

Once it was safely in her possession, Elain smoothed her thumb across the fabric and studied the brocade pattern woven into the wine-colored silk. The embroidered E in the corner certainly seemed to suggest it belonged to her, but Elain didn’t own a handkerchief this color. Nor did she make a habit of embroidering her belongings. Its texture was not familiar to her, either—slightly rougher than silk, though smoother than any cotton she’d felt between her fingers before.

“Where did you find this?” She asked.

“So it is yours, then?”

He sounded angry again. Elain lifted her eyes to see that he was studying her, searching for the answer to some deeper question he didn’t dare voice.

A muscle feathered in this jaw. He glanced down the hall, ensuring they were alone, before he added in a low voice, “I found it outside the Shadowsinger’s bedroom.”

Aware that her reaction was being monitored carefully, and risked confirming the accusations already tangible in his words, Elain kept her expression perfectly neutral. She thumbed at the E in the corner, wondering if it was perhaps a gift from Azriel, and she was its intended recipient.

It would be odd if it was—Azriel had barely spoken to her since the Solstice. From what she’d gauged of the shadowsinger, his bouts of silence were not unusual, but whatever lingering glances had once existed between them seized the moment she returned the rose necklace to him.

No. Sooner than that.

This was a mistake.

Even now, months later, those words burned inside her. She folded the handkerchief and held it back towards him, deciding she didn’t care if it was a gift. Just like the necklace, she’d return it.

“It’s not mine,” she said. “You can put it back wherever you found it.”

Lucien arched his scar-slit brow. She knew he didn’t believe her, and that the evidence was certainly incriminating. There was no one else by that initial who lived in this house, not unless there was a new servant who happened to drop it.

It caused her to wonder if Azriel had planted the handkerchief intentionally. Either to get under Lucien’s skin, or in the hopes that Elain would find it, and it would lead to another clandestine meeting. Where she would knock on his door and be again swept into those deep hazel eyes, and perhaps would feel so consumed by his churning, unspoken anguish that she would forget his hurtful words.

Or perhaps… There was not a scheme afoot at all, and this was simply the souvenir of a new lover.

Lucien crossed his arms, making no move to retrieve the handkerchief. “And where exactly were you headed at this hour?”

He jerked his chin the direction she’d been heading, a passageway which forked two directions. On one end, to the library, and on the other… to Azriel’s room.

Elain’s cheeks burned in outrage. “I was going to the library.”

“In your nightgown?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she said. “You’re not my keeper. And I haven’t seen or heard from you in months.”

Lucien drew back, as if she’d struck him. His expressions hardened, then smoothed—the way a river could strip a rock of all of its jagged edges.

“You’re right, Lady.” That was his courtier’s voice, distant and detached from the emotion she knew was churning inside him. “My apologies. I’ll leave you to carry on to the library.”

His apology only stoked her anger, enough that she wanted to claw deeper. She drew the handkerchief to her chest and stepped past him with a clipped, “Thank you for returning this to me.”

The scent of woodsmoke and clove coiled around her as she darted past, a hidden snare that almost caught her, willing her to turn around and tell him the truth. She held her breath instead, glaring down the hall as though the Cauldron was sitting at its end, taunting her.

She could feel Lucien’s eyes trailing her until she disappeared behind the corridor. And the moment his scent faded, and she could no longer count the metronome of his heartbeat, the sea swept back in.

That was what sent Elain veering away from the library. Without thinking, or stopping to listen to the hushed voices as she passed Rhysand’s study, Elain stormed down the stairs and pushed out the door into the streets of Velaris. With only a coat shrugged over her nightgown, she was woefully underdressed, but she was desperate to go somewhere, anywhere, that would distract from all the scents and sounds and questions swirling in her mind.

Did Azriel know that Lucien would be coming? Did she care? It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Lucien angry with her. And given how they’d last parted, it was no surprise there would be tension between them.

As she strode through the empty marketplace, the memory of the icy words they last exchanged crept into the periphery of her thoughts, like the frost she spied climbing over the glass of the shop window in front of her.

In its reflection, a pink-cheeked female was taking great, huffing breaths. Her golden-brown curls were windswept from the cool breeze, the bite of which promised winter in the weeks to come. Altogether, she looked far more flustered and agitated than a composed lady ought to be.

It was just—It’d been so long since she’d last heard his voice and felt the onslaught of her body’s reaction to his presence. She’d been underprepared, and he’d pushed all the right buttons to prod her into an anger equal to his own. That was all.

Elain shook her head, forcibly pushing away the shards of memory that plagued her—present and past and future, blending together. Scarlet hair and sneering lips and the taste of fire scalding her tongue. With her cursed visions, she was used to cobwebs of would-bes and half-truths plaguing her mind, but the heated flashes of her mate were more difficult to dismiss. Especially when he was in Velaris, starting fights with her in the hallway.

With a deep breath, she practiced the grounding techniques she’d spoken about with Madja.

What was beneath her? The firm, cobbled street, glowing against the small bulbs of faelights strung from roof to roof.

What was above her? A dark, overcast sky—rare for Velaris, and likely another indication that the mild autumn weather was coming to its end. Though the red and amber leaves gilding the city’s landscape were pretty, she was happy to think they’d soon be swept away with the winter. The sight of them made her chest ache.

What was in front of her? Her own reflection, blinking through the window of a shop that—looking past her squinting image—appeared to sell an eccentric collection of trinkets. She spied a snow globe sitting upon a stack of books, which precariously supported a leaning portrait of an amphibian faerie in the nude, draped in jewels whilst being hand-fed a basket of red berries.

It was an odd painting to be advertising in the storefront window, but it was certainly effective in knocking Elain from her bad mood. She wandered to the shop’s entrance, and was delighted to see that a small desk light was lit inside and a sign hung over the entrance, stating: OPEN (to those who seek)

Seized with curiosity, Elain grabbed the silver handle and tested the knob, just to make sure it wasn’t locked.

The bell above the door frame trilled a high-pitched greeting, announcing her entrance to the shopkeeper sitting behind a large desk, piled high with odds and ends of which Elain could find no discernible pattern. The faerie was sorting through a box of ribbons all in various colors and stages of condition, so immersed in the task at hand that she didn’t seem to notice Elain’s entrance, despite being the only patron in the otherwise empty shop.

After providing what felt to be a polite amount of time to finish the task, Elain said, “Excuse me, is this store open?”

Not looking up from the two frayed ribbons she was untangling in her hands, one a vivid scarlet red and the other a vibrant yellow, the shopkeeper asked, “Have you found something lost or lost something found?”

Elain blinked. “Pardon?”

With a heavy sigh, the faerie dropped the ribbons back in the box. “This is a place of trade,” she said, gesturing with a purple hand towards the strange collection of items at her desk. “Not a shop.”

“And you trade… lost objects?”

The faerie nodded, causing a lock of the snow-white hair wreathed at the top of her head to fall over one of her slitted black eyes. She petulantly batted it behind her fin-shaped ear before pinning Elain with a wild, jagged-toothed smile, “Would you like to look at my wares?”

“I have nothing to trade,” Elain said, sweeping her eyes over the items nonetheless. There was a box of quills, most of which looked to be used, the feathers worn and bent. “How do you trade something you’ve already lost?”

“You don’t,” said the shopkeeper plainly. “You trade something you found. And if you’re looking for something you’ve lost, well, you might find it here.”

Most of the things Elain had lost recently couldn’t be traded in a shop. Even so, she wandered across the store, marveling at the shelves of children’s toys. Dolls and plush animals and spinning tops. She considered getting something to bring back for Nyx, but was deterred by the thought that the children these items once belonged to might return to the shop.

She asked, “How do you know if you’re trading something to its rightful owner?”

The shopkeeper hummed. “I always know.”

Elain took that to mean the shopkeeper didn’t care, so long as she was receiving an item of equal value in exchange. But then… how did she make any profit? Her head spun trying to make sense of it, before she reminded herself that trying to make sense of the fae was a tedious and unrewarding task. Often, they made no rational sense at all, and that was just the way they preferred things.

“I don’t think there’s anything here for me,” she said. “I appreciate you letting me look.”

“Nonsense,” the shopkeeper said, now having moved on from the ribbons to arrange stacks of playing cards. “In all my centuries running this trading post, no one has ever wandered in without something to find. Keep looking.”

Elain was beginning to feel flustered, and wondered briefly if she was the lost thing. “Even if I did find something, I have nothing to trade.”

“Nonsense.”

Elain huffed, turning away from the shopkeeper. What if she didn’t want anything in this cursed little shop? Surely she wouldn’t be kept from leaving without buying something? If that was the case, Elain would certainly have words to share with Rhysand about how this shop was run.

She thought about sharing with the shopkeeper that she was the High Lady’s sister, when the sight of a porcelain doll caught her eye. Elain gasped.

“Find something?” The shopkeeper crooned.

It couldn’t be. The doll she’d lost as a little girl was drifting somewhere in the ocean. And even if it had been retrieved, it would not look like the one before her, all smooth, glistening ivory and perfectly clean golden-brown locks of hair. Elain carefully lifted the doll from the shelf, staring into those bright, clever brown eyes. Much like her own.

Was it a trick? A memory plucked from her mind? She glanced over at the shopkeeper, still tirelessly counting and arranging cards. There didn’t seem to be anything predatory about her knowing smile. But it was knowing.

Elain set the doll back on the shelf. It wasn’t hers, just one of the same make. That was the only explanation she could draw for how it ended up here. As she withdrew her hands, her fingers brushed the sides of a wooden box, and she jerked back when a soft, mechanical tink answered her touch.

The shopkeeper paused her counting.

“Sorry,” Elain breathed, pressing a hand to her chest to steady her thundering heart. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

An unimpressed raised brow was her only response. Elain turned back to the box, frowning. It was of simple, plain-looking make, the wood smooth and polished on all sides. She pushed up the top, and her breath hitched when a carving of a small female dancer sprung up from inside. Acting of their own volition, Elain’s fingers sought the underside of the box to find a winding mechanism, twisting the small knob there as if they knew precisely what this box was for, what it did.

The world seemed to still the moment Elain released her fingers, every sleeping doll and ancient tome in the small shop waking to listen as the small wooden dancer began twisting on a single posed foot. As she moved, the box began emitting a slow, mechanically plucked out melody.

Each note hung and lingered, carving its way through the air with a sharpness that demanded to be heard. Elain didn’t so much as breathe in fear of disturbing its song, allowing it to curl around her, tugging at the cusp of a memory. She swore she’d heard it before, though she struggled to place when or where. If she closed her eyes, it evoked an image of a summer garden, draped in moonlight. Her fingers tingled with the feeling of a warm hand, wrapped in hers. And her chest… her chest ached with a sorrow so heavy it could pull down the stars.

It was so at odds with the happy, smiling dancer who twirled and twirled without a care in the world. Though the box itself was light, its weight became more significant the longer the song played, as though it were carrying its grief in the bones of its wood. She could feel it calling to her, an echo to the song of lost love she had been carrying in her own chest.

“Interesting,” the shopkeeper said. “That box has sat untouched in my shop for nearly three centuries. I’ve always wondered who would come to claim it one day.”

“Oh—” Elain sniffed and hastily wiped at a tear slipping down her cheek. She didn’t know when she’d started crying. “This isn’t mine.”

The shopkeeper shrugged. “Sometimes we find lost things and sometimes lost things find us.”

“I can’t—”

“It called to you,” the shopkeeper insisted. “Which means it’s been found. So it’s no longer lost. And since this is a place for lost things, it can’t stay in the shop any longer. Either take it, or I’ll throw it out.”

For some reason, the thought of the box being thrown out was horrifying to Elain. Surely it must have meant a great deal to someone at some point. She said softly, “But I don’t have anything to trade in return.”

“No?” The shopkeeper cocked her head. “Nothing in your pockets?”

She was fishing for coin, no doubt, but Elain realized she did have something in her pockets. Something that was found.

Numbly, she withdrew the handkerchief she’d been given by Lucien.

The shopkeeper grinned ear-to-ear and pointed to a bin just behind Elain. “That will do perfectly. Add it to the box.”

Indeed, behind her shoulder was a box brimming with handkerchiefs.

Her head would only hurt trying to make sense of the logic. “The handkerchief doesn’t belong to me, either.”

“And that’s precisely why you should leave it here,” the shopkeeper reasoned. “It’s lost, and I’ll ensure it finds its rightful owner.”

Just as the jewelry box found its rightful owner, she thought dryly.

But three centuries was a long time to go unclaimed. After the war, there was no way of knowing if its original owner was still alive. And as for the handkerchief… she supposed leaving it here was preferable to what she was likely going to do with it, which was absolutely nothing. She would inevitably put off speaking to Azriel about it just as she avoided telling Lucien why she was really awake in the middle of the night.

It was one less burden off her hands, and she couldn’t say she was sorry to see it go as she dropped it into the box of multicolored fabrics.

[tenaciousbouquetearthquake]

Shall I tell you how many Nazis I killed today?, pt1

I originally posted this on ao3, but I'm posting here just to see what happens and because I haven't been on tumblr in like three years since my last fandom got too toxic to stay in and I have no idea who's on here anymore/what people are into. Except Destial because apparently that's trending and I completely support that. XD

Read it on ao3 / Check out the story’s masterlist

You're a medic on the Maid Honor during the mission to rescue Appleyard. You and Anders *may* have developed a bit reputation in the short time you've been together. The guys are 100% done with accidentally walking in on the two of you. Contains some mild smut.

Every time Anders Lassen smiles, it does things to you. In fact, it does a lot of things to you, although whether it makes you go cold with fear or hot with excitement depends entirely on if he has a weapon in his hands and is covered in blood or not. 

It’s better when he’s covered in Nazi blood and has a weapon in his hands. That’s when you know that Anders is doing well—he comes back from a mission with a nary a scratch, a quiver without any arrows left, a thoroughly used blade, and covered in a truly disturbing amount of blood…but he’ll be smiling, a particular smile meant only for you as he walks in your space on the boat and leans idly against the wall.

The sight of him is always a bit of a shock when you glance up from where you’ve been surveying your medical supplies. He’s too big for this space, always, and it’s not just his physical size. Anders Lassen is too big a personality, too strong a presence, for any room to contain. “I return to you victorious, min skat ,” Anders says in that low, soft voice of his, arms crossed in a way that showcases the well-developed muscles in his arms. He does it on purpose, knowing the way your eyes are drawn to them each time, a subtle form of preening meant just for you. “Shall I tell you how many Nazis I killed today?”

Your eyes stray slowly from those muscular arms to the broad width of his shoulders, moving gradually toward his tanned face as one side of his lips quirk up into a hint of a smirk. You try not to notice it, and when that doesn’t work, you try not to let it affect you—even though it does. God , how it does. “Oh? Are you keeping count now?” You continue to pat your hands dry with the cloth you’re using, having just reassessed all the medical supplies you brought with you on the boat. “When did you have the time to do that? I thought this was a rescue mission, after all.”

His smirk grows a little bigger as he watches you, humming a low sound before he pushes off from the wall and takes a rather large, predatory step toward you. “Yes, but…that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun, does it?” He takes another step, his smirk altering into the hint of a grin when he sees you twitch ever so slightly in response, as if you’re preparing to run. “You’re not afraid of me, are you, Y/N?” Another step, his intense gaze focused entirely on you as you force yourself to stand still—although this is as much prey behavior as running away would be. “I only want to have a little fun with you.” Another step, and this time he’s so close that he does force you backward, pressing your body against the wall as Anders towers over you. If he wasn’t already predatory enough, he leans forward and rests his palms on either side of your face, his heavy arms pinning you in place as he invades your personal space. “Do you not like to have fun, min skat?”

It's hard to concentrate with him so close, even when he’s not looking his best, and Anders Lassen covered in blood after what was probably a massacre isn’t exactly your favorite look on him. You find yourself licking your lips softly, teeth scraping over the bottom lip, and force yourself to take a deep breath as you look up at him, trying to buy yourself a few extra seconds before you respond. “I like to have fun,” you reply, surprised that you’ve managed to keep your voice steady. “At appropriate times and in appropriate places.” You silently cringe when you say it, simultaneously aware that you’re the team medic and that Appleyard is going to require your attention, and Lassen’s body is so very, very close to your own.

Anders feigns being hurt, looking crestfallen at the rejection, still pressing into your space, and with each passing second you grow intensely more aware of other details—the blood soaked into the collar of his shirt, the faint beating of his pulse on his neck, the shallow cut above his eyebrow.

The sheer weight of his body in front of you, the heat of him. Heavy and oppressive and so fucking hot that your body instinctively clenches in response, every inch of your skin aware of his presence. He tilts his head forward, nearly resting it against your forehead as his eyes close and he takes a deep breath to breathe in the scent of you. Then those chocolate brown eyes open again and his gaze fixes on you, and it’s all you can do to remind yourself to breathe.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play with me, Y/N?” Anders says, his voice low enough that the words are meant only for you, and the sound of that voice just makes it all worse. “I even brought you a present.” His body presses against yours a little more now, letting you feel the hard lines of him against you. “A Nazi heart. I cut it out myself. I thought I might give it to you as a token of affection.”

“Yo—” you stumble over the words, pausing to clear your throat and breathe before you continue. Anders looks at you with a mixture of amusement and pure male satisfaction. “You brought me a Nazi heart?”

Anders hums for a moment, tilting his head as if in consideration. “Yes,” he says with a sigh and a small shake of his head. “But now that I’m here, I think I might give you mine instead.” He adjusts his weight above you as he moves one of his hands from beside your head, his bloody hand coming to cup your chin, tilting your head back for him as he leans in ever closer, his thumb tracing small circles near your mouth. “Ja, I like that idea much better.”

If Anders is the predator and you’re the prey, then Lord help you. You’re about to be devoured and not even care. In fact, you silently welcome it as he claims your lips with his own, chapped with the midday heat but delicious as hell as your lips part for him and his body presses fully against yours and you can feel yourself melt under the hard ridges of him, gentle but demanding and growing even more intense when he feels you respond. There are a thousand reasons why you shouldn’t have come on this mission—the violence, the danger, the lack of combat training.

The fact that every time you and Lassen come within ten feet of each other, you can’t seem to keep your hands off each other.

You don’t even notice when Anders moves his other hand and it comes to rest at your waist, or when it begins to hike up underneath your shirt, the heat of his palm trailing over your bare midriff as your body instinctively arches into his touch. You’re not even aware of how far this interaction between the two of you has gone until you faintly hear Freddy groaning from across the room, accompanied just as enthusiastically by Gus.

“Bloody hell, not again.” Freddy’s voice is all exasperation, as if he’s witnessed this scene far too often and isn’t in a hurry to see it again. “We leave you two alone for five minutes and you’re already trying to tear her clothes off. Can’t you at least wait until after the mission is over?”

Anders pulls back from you, just a little, and lets out a low growl at the interruption. You’d probably be amused, if you weren’t still feeling drunk on the kiss—and the feeling of Anders’s hands on you. “I was simply reporting back to the medic for a check-up,” Anders says with ease, the muscles in his arms visibly tensing as he forces himself to take a step back from you.

“Listen, Lassen,” Gus says, escorting in an injured Appleyard, who appears just as put off by this scene as the rest of them. “I understand that the two of you are—” Gus pauses, reaching up to scratch at his beard awkwardly as he glances between you and Anders and you move to adjust your clothes back to normal, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Well, the two of you. But given the circumstances—”

“What circumstances?” Anders asks innocently, as if he hadn’t just been caught feeling you up and firmly about to try and fuck you against the wall.

“You just cut a man’s heart out,” Freddy declares in response, gesturing toward Anders as he helps Appleyard further into the room. “You’re still covered in his blood!”

“Oh?” Anders glances down at himself and acts surprised before he shrugs and looks back at them. “It’s just a little dirt,” he says. “These Nazis, they don’t keep their camps very clean, do they?”

Gus lets out a heavy sigh as he and Freddy help Appleyard move past you and Anders towards one of the beds, although Freddy does shake his head at Anders. “There’s something seriously wrong with you, chap,” he tells Anders.

Anders takes the comment in stride. “Ja, I know,” he says. “Why do you think I came to the sick bay?”

At night is when you see the other side of him, the other smiles that make your blood run cold with a kind of fear that you didn’t even know you could experience. Nighttime at sea can be nearly pitch-black and it never stops being disorienting when you wake to a gently rocking boat and the sound of waves outside, but none of the usual sounds of life. There are no crickets chirping gently outside, no distant voices of people coming or going in the next apartment, or the sounds of war in the background.

No bombs dropping from overhead, the impact of it rocking the ground in a hard concussion that knocks your feet out from you and the air from your lungs. At home, you’d spend these hours crouched under a table, knees to your chest, listening to the building around you shake and feeling yourself go quietly numb in self-preservation until the onslaught was over. It would be minutes, sometimes hours, before you felt yourself slip from that mental retreat, the sounds of someone crying in the next apartment and the smell of smoke slowly bleeding into your consciousness. At sea, there are none of these things.

At sea, you’d think there wasn’t a war on at all.

But wars are not only made up of physical confrontations, and a family you loved desperately isn’t the only kind of casualty.

Anders isn’t in bed. It’s the first full thought that you have when you come fully awake, the blanket still tucked in neatly around you as you cradle his pillow to your chest, surrounded entirely by the scent of Anders Lassen—a mixture of soap, sweat, and something woodsy and distinctly him , as if part of him really was wild, a beast made man. You shove the pillow away and push yourself up in the bunk, looking around for him in the dark and not finding him. It’s disconcerting enough to wake up at sea, but to wake up without Lassen—that’s something else entirely. You’re unsettled as you shove the blankets aside and quietly tiptoe out of the bunk, finger combing your hair back from your face and feeling around for Anders’s spare coat. It takes a little effort to get past the other bunks without disturbing them, even as Freddy, who’s supposed to be on watch, snores loudly enough to wake them all.

You find Anders above deck, his form visible in the moonlight as he handles some of the spare rope, winding and unwinding it around his arm as if in ritual, the movements slow and precise. You can see the moment he realizes that you’re there, the subtle pause, the slight tilt of his head as if he can hear you. Then he keeps going, silently working the rope as you cross the deck to him, shaking his head the closer you get and clicking his tongue. “ Tsk, tsk, tsk . Shouldn’t you be sleeping, elskede? Safe in your bed.” He heaves a dramatic sigh as you come next to him, aware now of his bare chest in the moonlight, the subtle curves of his body as he glances at you. “It’s dangerous to be above deck, all alone, in the middle of the night.”

You pull his coat closed around you and stare at him for a long moment in feigned consideration, tiptoeing around him silently and feeling his gaze on you with every step you take. “Is it, though? It seems rather quiet up here to me. A bit boring, really.” You move around him in a slow circle, appearing as if the two of you have changed places and you’re now the predator while Anders is the prey. “Frankly, I think a little danger would be exciting.”

“You would like some danger?” Anders sounds intrigued as he watches you silently pace around him, your movements slow and relaxed. “You’re not happy with the peace and quiet?”

You shrug, glancing at him, giving him your best unconcerned look. “I like peace and quiet just fine,” you say, sounding bored, pacing softly around him. He doesn’t turn to follow you as you loop behind him, but you can tell from the tension in his shoulders and his back, and the way his head angles in your direction, that he’s aware of your every move. “It’s just that sometimes, when it gets too quiet, I have this irresistible urge to…” You deliberately let your words trail off as you pace behind him, coming out the other side and to the front of him again, still only faintly glancing at him.

You can hear the curiosity and interest as Anders gladly takes the bait, prompting you for more. “You get an urge to what?”

You sigh as if it can’t be helped, moving again, his gaze now firmly following you as you move. “I have this irresistible urge to find a tall, incredibly handsome Danish man and have my wicked ways with him.”

Anders has a small grin when he responds, his voice filled with humor. His gaze only leaves you in the brief moments when you cross behind him to come back out the other side. “So, you want to have your wicked ways with a tall, handsome Danish man.”

You hum in acknowledgement before adding, “Ravish him completely.” You slowly pace in front of him again, although now you decide to play with him a little, pulling the front of his coat open enough to show him a hint of your curves beneath your shirt, letting your hips sway enough to draw his gaze slowly downward.

“I never knew you were interested in such things.” There’s still humor in his voice, but now there’s something else, too—something dark and hungry. “Tell me, what exactly would you do to ravish this man?”

You’re moving to cross behind him again. You can see the muscles in his back and arms growing more taut and when you’re near enough to his side and his head is craning to follow your steps, you give in to the need to reach out and touch him, a gentle ghosting of your fingertips over his arm and trailing softly over his the tight muscles of his back. You hear his breath catch for a fraction of a second as your hand moves lower, skimming softly enough over that one spot where he’s particularly sensitive that it’s more the shifting of the air near his skin, more the anticipation of touch, than anything else. “I think,” you drawl, keeping your touch low on his body as you cross around his other side to the front again. “The first thing I would do is to make him sit for me.” You’re slower now as you move in front of him, your touch against his skin becoming a little more greedy as your hand skims against his waist, the first real skin on skin contact you’ve made. “I’d probably tie him to a chair, make sure that he’s completely helpless for me so that I can touch him however I want to.”

Anders’s lips twitch at the idea of him being completely helpless, but you can see the look in his eyes clearly enough, even in the dark above deck. Wolfish. Hungry. Alert. You drag an open palm over his stomach, letting your hand slip gently under the waistband of his trousers, feeling him clench at that first initial touch before his body relaxes into the touch. “And how,” Anders prompts when you don’t immediately continue, his voice heavy with lust, “would you want to touch him?”

You’re passing around him again, but you’ve been moving in smaller and smaller circles with each new pass, now so close to him that you let the sleeve of your coat brush his arm, your hand never leaving his body. He doesn’t turn his head to track your movements now, barely even moving at all, seemingly content to just let you touch him. You lick at lips that are suddenly dry, the air between the two of you so warm that the coat is suddenly hot, too hot . “First, I would run my hands over his body and feel every inch of him.” You can hear the change in your own voice at your arousal, your skin too sensitive as your nipples pebble against your shirt, heat pooling between your thighs. “I’d follow all the cords of his muscle,” you tell him, letting your palm follow the lines and cords of his body underneath it, feeling his body tense and hot as he forces himself to take slow, steady breaths. “And I'd find all the places where he’s sensitive,” you pause and deliberately ghost your fingers over that spot on his back, near his left hip, hearing his breath hitch as he stands deathly still for you, “and all the ways I can touch him to make him shiver.” Anders is still, so very still, as you move around him now. “And when I've decided that he’s ready…” You're around his front, circling around him again. “And he can't take me touching him anymore…” You pause behind him, leaning your body flush against his back so he can feel the shape of you through his coat, and standing on your toes to lean close to his neck. You let your nose brush against him before gently licking a hot stripe on his neck near his ear. “ I would use my mouth instead .”

Anders trembles–all six feet of him, the bear of a man, the Danish hammer, practically a modern day viking–fucking trembles at you whispering in his ear and the feel of your tongue on his skin, your breath hot. So fucking hot that you're burning up in the coat, that Anders’s body is a giant furnace, that the night air is like ice against your face but you're not aware of it because your body is on fire with need. You swallow against your own desire, your own need to stop teasing him and just let Anders take you right there, and instead press one kiss, then another, on his neck. You nuzzle there for a long moment before moving onto his shoulder and letting your teeth scrape over him in a small, sucking kiss. He’s so tense underneath you, so taut that you'd think he might snap, but god– god –how you want him to snap.

To lose all his control…to be the one to make him lose control. You could get drunk on that power alone.

You rest your body against his back, angled enough to his side that you can reach around him and slip a hand into the band of his trousers. Anders practically growls as your hand explores the vee of his chest, moving gently over his hip, teasing slowly toward his cock. He’s already hard when you touch him, the first hint of your fingers on his cock making him audibly pant as you tease near the base. “I would make him wait a very long time,” you say against his shoulder, letting the hot wet of your breath settle there, “before I open his trousers and touch his cock like this.” You stroke over the hard length of him, straining against the material of his pants, teasing your fingers over the tip as you feel his body practically vibrating against you. “But when I do…” You ease your hand around him, drawing it back up the shaft as you hear him bite back a moan. “I'd take him in my mouth…” Another long stroke upward. His back is straight against your chest and you'd swear you could feel his heart pounding as you touch him. “And I’d taste him as long as I want to…” You pause to let him feel your tongue against his skin again, tasting sweat and the salt of the sea air on him, drawing the moment out to let him imagine your tongue on his cock. “And I wouldn't let him cum until he begged me for it.”

You're about to continue the torture, to stroke your hand down the underside of his cock, teasing his balls softly before stroking downward, when you're surprised a hand gripping your wrist. You almost jump in surprise at the sudden contact, the break in the scene, the strength of his hand around your wrist as he keeps you in an unforgiving hold. You glance up at Anders to see his jaw hard and his nostrils flared as he swallows and tries to maintain his control. “It's not nice to tease, min skat.” His voice is a growl, eyes closed tightly. Seconds from breaking.

“You tease me all the time,” you reply, letting him feel you smirk against his shoulder. “My turn is long overdue. Don't you think?”

Anders doesn't let go of your hand and for a brief moment, you think that he's not going to let you continue, but when he doesn't move you away from him, either, you decide to try again. You move carefully to his front, meeting his dark gaze and holding it as you slowly put a hand to his chest and begin to push him back. Anders doesn't fight you, letting you direct his heavy body back slowly, one small step at a time, his hand never leaving your wrist and your hand never leaving his chest. It's like a dance, the two of you moving with a slow precision until the back of his legs meet a trunk of supplies and you stop pushing him. The two of you stand still, gazing at each other, as you wait to see what happens next, if Anders will let this little scene continue or not.

His thumb begins to move gently against your wrist, circling your pulse point. “No ropes, elskede,” Anders says, his voice barely audible. “No restraints.”

There’s silence between you two for what feels like an eternity, even though it must only be a few minutes. Waves rock the boat gently, a soft breeze caresses overheated skin. A look, an understanding, passes between you and Anders. Because restraints aren’t safe above the deck, when he’s meant to be keeping watch—to be keeping you safe. 

Because you don’t know the whole story, but just as you have your demons, Anders has his, too.

You bite your bottom lip and shrug. “I don’t need to tie you up to have you at my mercy.”

A quirk of his lips, slipping into a smirk. You can see the way the humor and warmth reaches his eyes, even in the darkness. His grip on your wrist tightens imperceptibly, his thumb pausing on your pulse, on the very beating of your heart—a heart that belongs entirely to him. The water sounds like the blood rushing in your ears, quiet and deafening all at once. “Ja,” he agrees then. “That is true.”

Reluctantly, Anders lets go of your wrist. 

Reluctantly, you pull your hand from his pants, but it’s only a temporary retreat. Anders doesn’t resist, not even a little, when you gently push him backwards and he sits down on the trunk, his back rigid as he gazes at you. He waits patiently, watching you with an intensity that sends a fresh wave of heat through your body where you’re standing in front of him, moving to undo his pants. You pull his cock free, watching his lips part as he exhales a moan at the touch of your hand and the cool night air. His body responds without any conscious thought as you grip him tightly and begin to move your hand up and down, stroking his cock with long, even motions that leave him nearly panting. 

You’re about to get on your knees when Anders breaks the scene once more, taking hold of your shoulder, although his grip is less firm this time. “No.”

Your eyebrows go up as you pause, your body frozen. “No?” You half wonder what you’ve done wrong, if there’s some unknown line that you’ve somehow crossed, but Anders shakes his head with a small smile, something surprisingly soft and tender, given the circumstances. 

“I want you.”

God. God above . Have there ever been three more beautiful words in the English language? Have there ever been three more perfect words, more exciting or fulfilling words, than those?

You don’t think so. How could anything else possibly compare to the sound of Anders Lassen saying that he wants you?

“I thought I was in charge.” Not that you’ll complain, not really. Being with Anders is being with Anders, no matter what form it takes.

Then Anders says something even more surprising, even more beautiful or enticing. “Please, Y/N. Let me have you.” 

Please . Let me have you .

You’re too stunned to respond immediately, and just when you’re about to recover, just when you’re about to try and rewrite this little script you’d figured out in your head when you woke up without Anders in your bed and found him restlessly adjusting the ropes above deck, Anders continues being Anders…perfect, beautiful, strong, and knows how to play you like a fucking violin, Anders Lassen. “Have pity on a poor, weak Danish man like myself,” he says, mouth turning up into that smartass grin of his, the one you’re never certain if you want to kiss or slap off of him. “ Ravish me .”

You try, really fucking try , not to laugh at the ridiculousness of your own words. Of the whole scenario, really. Poor, weak Anders Lassen. Conquered by you . At your mercy. Being ravished on the deck of a boat with four other men on board, sleeping, while you travel to a Nazi infested destination on a mission to save England and…and…

Well. “I suppose,” you begin, drawing the words out, making a show of pretending to consider his request, “you did beg for mercy.” You watch as Anders nods enthusiastically.

“Ja, yes. Mercy.”

“And what kind of person would I be if I ignored such heartfelt pleas as those?” You move to shrug out of his coat, letting it fall to the floor and leaving you in only the big nightshirt you’d worn to bed earlier. 

“Not a very good one,” Anders answers you. His hands come to rest on your thighs, just above the knees, but as with all things with Anders, nothing is ever static for very long. He’s feeling up the length of your thighs before you’re even positioned where you want to be, cupping the curves of your ass with his big palms and finding the edges of your panties. “Not a very good one at all.”

“And you do owe me for that little scene you made earlier.” You nearly jump when you feel Anders’s hands slipping under the sides of your panties and beginning to tug them down. “When you knew the others were coming and still pinned me to the wall.”

“ Oh .” It sounds like a moan when Anders makes the sound, letting your panties fall to the floor and gently nudging your legs apart. “Yes. That was very bad of me.” You gasp when you feel his big, warm hand between your thighs, cupping your cunt with a possessiveness that’s impossible to ignore. “I should’ve finished what I started instead of making you wait for me to take you.” He strokes over you softly, petting your folds in an easy move that leaves you leaning forward against him as he plays with your cunt. “I definitely deserve to be punished for that one.” He explores your slit for a long moment, burying a finger inside of you as your hands close tightly over his shoulders and you lean into his neck, his mouth at your ear now. “Would you like to punish me, Y/N?” He nips at the shell of your ear as he moves to stroke wet fingers over your clit and your mouth opens to moan but no sound comes out. “Would you like to make me finish what I started earlier and have me fuck you right here, for anyone to see?”

It’s a twist. Suddenly, Anders is in control again, but it doesn’t matter. Not when he’s touching you like that. Not when his voice is that deep and low in your ear. Not when he’s saying what he’s saying.

“ Should I make you scream so the others can hear us? ”

In the end, it’s easy— far too easy —for Anders to make you come undone. His finger on your clit, his voice in your ear, one hand slipping under your nightshirt and trailing up your chest, to the underside of your breast, skimming over a sensitive nipple, hot to the touch and too cold from the breeze. A complete sensory overload that’s unyielding and all-consuming.

“ You’re so wet for me, allerkæreste. ”

It’s harder and harder to concentrate. Too much—it’s just far too much. You’re sinking against Anders, as if you were two halves of one being, as if your body just realized that you’ve always belonged there and it never wants to be parted from him again. His hand cups your breast, squeezes, teasing the nipple. He plays with your clit, merciless in his touch. Your fingers dig into his shoulders.

Anders doesn’t fucking care.

He never does.

“ Do you know how badly I want you right now? ” His nose nuzzles against your face, his eyelashes tickling your cheek. Your body becomes liquid. “ Du betyder så meget for mig .”

You don’t scream when you cum. You barely make any noise at all. As much as Anders likes to tease you, he knows you’re not that comfortable with the others knowing—and hearing—so much of your private time together. But you do practically fall into his lap, your legs trembling and too unsteady to keep yourself upright. You do look up at Anders to see him gazing down at you with that smartass grin of his, looking for all the world like the cat that ate the canary, like he just said some ultimate truth that you’re not privy to because you don’t speak Danish and this little game that you started no longer belongs to you.

Which, to be completely fair, is true. Whatever Anders said, you’ll never know—you don’t speak Danish and he doesn’t give you the chance to ask before he’s nudging you onto his lap, opening your legs to straddle his waist. By the time he’s tugging at your nightshirt and you’re pulling it over your head to discard alongside the rest of your clothes, the question of whatever he said is so far from your mind that if you ever try to bring it up again, Anders will probably just feign ignorance. 

And you may have started this game between you, but it belongs to Anders as his hands move over your now naked body, covered in goosebumps from the cool air and arousal. In fact, you have no chance whatsoever to recover the game as his big hands close around your hips and he helps you adjust on his lap, angling yourself into the right position above his cock so that inch by delicious inch, you can sink down onto him. In the haze of pleasure that quickly envelopes you, one thing is absolutely clear.

You belong to Anders Lassen, body and soul. Whatever becomes of you two on this ridiculous mission, in this impossible war, in a life that’s sure to be filled with heartbreak, Anders will always be your true north. Nothing will ever change that.

“ Fuck .” It’s a guttural moan of a word that’s so uncharacteristic for Anders that you can’t help but laugh, burying your face in his neck and stroking his chest with your hands. “Are you laughing at me?” Anders tries to sound threatening, but in the context of the moment, it drags another round of laughter from you as you shake your head. “You shouldn’t laugh at the Danish Hammer, you know. It’s not a wis—”

You can’t help yourself, cutting his words off with a kiss and holding onto his shoulders for dear life as you start to move against him, grinding your hips against his and sliding your body to fill yourself up with his cock again, and again, and again . It’s everything, that feeling of him inside of you. His hands on your hips as you rock against him. Your hands as you move to cup his face and stop the kiss so that you can look at him, just look at him as you take him there, on the deck, in the darkness.

You may not understand Danish, but you know that look. The one that’s reserved only for you, that says everything necessary without Anders having to utter a single word. 

He can own the game. He can have whatever he wants. Anything—and you’ll gladly give it.

But a perfect moment, by definition, can only last for a moment. Eventually, it has to end. You feel your body clenching around him, your toes curling, and Anders can tell how close you are. When your movements start to slow, the rhythm of your bodies moving with each other starts to slip, his hands grip your hips more tightly and those bulky arms of his start to pick up the slack, pushing you effortlessly closer and closer to the edge. You’re vaguely aware of someone panting, of soft moans and whimpers that sound like you. Your forehead falls against Anders’s and your eyes drift closed, and just as the climax starts to hit you, just as your mouth is falling open with what would surely be an embarrassingly loud noise that would reach down into the cabin where the others are sleeping, Anders kisses you and drowns out the sound.

Although you doubt anything could’ve silenced the noise he makes when he cums inside you. The two of you are going to hear about this endlessly tomorrow.

Which is just fine with you, because tomorrow is not tonight, and tonight, you can wrap your arms around Anders’s neck and settle into his lap with his coat around you while the two of you keep watch. You’re leaning against his chest and half watching the night sky, trying not to feel the tug of sleep as you look back at him. There’s been something about Anders today, something that’s been bothering him. You could tell when he came back to the boat earlier.

You could see it when you came above deck.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” The question is greeted only by the night air and the crest of waves against the side of the boat. Anders stills when he hears it, but he doesn’t reply, choosing instead to close his coat around you more tightly and pull your body closer to his. He shakes his head and glances down at you from the corner of his eyes.

“It’s time to sleep, min skat.” His lips quirk up into that smirk. God, how you love that smirk. “I know that you’re tired.”

You are tired. Your eyes are heavy. You were exhausted by the time you climbed into bed with Anders earlier and you fell into an easy sleep beside him within minutes, disturbed only by sensing that he was no longer beside you. Whatever energy you’d managed to recover is completely spent after what just happened.

“Did you really cut a man’s heart out?” The question is out before you can stop it, impossibly small against the great weight of the sea and the war and the heaviness you recognize in Anders’s shoulders, as if the entire world were resting there. The smirk disappears so quickly as Anders’s face darkens that you’d almost wonder if it had ever been there at all, if a man filled with the sort of torment and pain you see then could be capable of such a light expression.

It feels like hours before he finally responds, barely loud enough to be heard over the water. “Yes.”

You reach up and stroke your knuckles over his cheek, your thumb on his chin. “Why would you do that?”

There’s no answer, just a smile so grim that it chills you to the bone, a new sense of fear so deep in your soul that you can’t even put words to it. That you’re not ready to think about or acknowledge at all. Then the smile slips and Anders just looks tired, so fucking tired.

You fall asleep in his arms, listening to the sound of the waves, the creaking of wood as the boat rocks gently, the steady sound of Anders breathing. He doesn’t answer you. You don’t demand an answer. 

Maybe some questions just don’t have any answers.

Sometime in the night, however, Anders does look down at you and whisper to your sleeping form. “ Du giver mig lyst til at være en bedre mand .” But even if you could hear it, you don’t speak Danish, and Anders isn’t ready to say the words in English. 

He’s not sure if he ever will be.

[cryptictongues]

184 Days

pairing: Clive Rosfield x Flower!Reader Series rating: Mature (angst; tw listed below) word count: 13.6K summary: You have a hard time grieving after Clive's passing, even when you didn't need to grieve at all.

warnings:  reader-insert (sorry lol), angst, hurt/comfort, reunions, grief/mourning, slight suicidal ideation, slight self-harm, depression, panic attacks, happy ending (yay!) - this is part of the Flower!Reader series! You don't need to have read the other two but there are references to them if that interests you.

Spoilers: This is post-game stuff. If you haven't played the game, beware.

TW's: This fic contains major themes of grief, so it is heavy. There is minor suicidal ideation and self-harm, not graphic in nature, but it is there. Depression and panic attacks are more common in this fic. If these topics don't sit right with you, please be cautious when reading. You may also reach out if you want to know specifics if you are worried!

Songs: I just want to share that I was constantly listening to When the Sun Hits by Slowdive, Thick Skull by Paramore, and Wicked Games by Chris Isaak.

LASTLY, I am sharing this on my birthday! My birthday gift to you all <3

[AO3 link]

Day 1

The Hideaway is full of people. People from all over Valisthea arrive in droves, coming to grant supplies, donate gil, and help around the Hideaway because today is the day; the day everyone here sends off Dion, Joshua, and Clive for their leave to Origin.

You are working overtime, helping with the final preparations before they take off. The biggest reason, however, for the hard work is the ever creeping anxiety filling your body as the time ticks closer to Clive’s departure; from his friends and family, and from you. This day has been a long time coming, yet now that it’s here you can barely stomach the thought of him leaving. With that thought lingering, every moment together has been even more precious than the next. 

Every moment of free time has been spent together. With today being the day of departure, your last moments together were last night. You both made love all night, and in between sessions would talk about what you two will do once he comes back; creating the life of your dreams together. Yet, in the back of your mind, all you could think was those thoughts were just that: dreams. You don’t know what will happen during Clive’s mission. But it’s fun to play pretend, and to envision what life could have in store for the two of you. 

The sun was in its golden state before its colors showed, telling you it’s almost time. You see everyone gathering on the main deck, Clive and co included, talking with one another as they say their farewells and safe travels. You start your way there, walking slowly as if it would prevent the inevitable. You know the moment you reach Clive, it would only be a matter of minutes before he is no longer within your grasp.

You see Clive talking to Jill, bringing her in for a tight hug as he continues. You see a shake in her shoulders, telling you she feels the same way you do. Just as hard as it is to wish your lover away, it must be just as hard to watch the man who has become a brother figure leave. They grew up together, after all.

You give a farewell to Prince Dion and Joshua once on the deck, giving Dion a firm handshake and a bow, while Joshua brings you in for a hug. You didn’t know Dion for long, but Joshua is a different story. Getting to know your lover’s brother has brought you closer to the both of them. Seeing how happy Clive was with Joshua around made your heart swell. You wonder if Joshua ever felt the same about you two. 

Joshua let’s go of you, a melancholy smile drawn on his face. “Thank you, _____. Thank you for taking care of my brother.” 

You shake your head. “No, thank you for finding each other again. I will be praying for the three of you to safely return to us.”

“I appreciate that, my lady.” Joshua thanks, yet his eyes shift, and he nods. “Here he comes.”

You turn to see Clive approaching you, and you already feel your chest growing tight and eyes water. He is standing before you, looking as beautiful as he always has, but with a sorrowful look that says everything you feel. It’s unfair, really. It devastates you that he is the one to stop all the madness, when in a perfect world he would stay. You keep telling yourself this isn’t the end, yet your gut keeps telling you otherwise. 

“____.”

“Would it be selfish of me to ask you to stay? To ask to let the world go to hell?”

Clive smiles, solemnly chuckling at your suggestions. “Never.”

You reach for his left hand with both hands, holding it as you rub your thumbs into his palm. “I know it would be futile, all the same.” You utter. “There would be no life worth living for anyone. I just wish things could be different.”

“I am doing this for a better future for everyone. It is what the world deserves.” Clive’s other hand covers your hands in full. “I must do this, so you and I can live the future we’ve always talked about.”

“I wish I could take your place, so I could guarantee your safety.” You choke out, the waterworks starting. 

Clive is quick to react, pulling you into him as you sob softly into his chest. “Knowing you will be safe here will be reason enough for me to make it back to you.” Your hands squeeze his sides, his statement making you want to sob harder. Clive pulls back, taking one hand to lift your head to get a good look at you. “I promise I will be back. Wait for me.”

You nod frantically, sniffling as you take deep breaths to calm down. Clive’s forehead leans against yours, his thumb brushing continuous strokes on your cheek, before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. You accept his kiss, giving it your all knowing the outcome is unknown. Both of your lips linger, not wanting to pull away because once one of you does, he will be on his way. 

Clive pulls away slightly, his lips still lingering near your own. “I love you, ____.”

“I love you too.” You whisper, placing one more kiss to his lips before pulling away. “I have something for you.”

You reach into the pouch you keep attached to your corset belt and pull out a lily. You thread the stem in between the crease of his corset and tunic, the tightness of his uniform keeping the flower in place. You brush his chest, stalling him a little longer before you accept it is time. “Lily represents reunion. With this flower, you shall come back to me.”

Clive sucks in a breath, releasing with a shutter as if he was on the verge of tears. “I will, no matter what.” 

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and you turn to see Jill still sniffling with watery eyes. She smiles at you before looking at Clive. “We will take care of each other.”

You feel something rub against your thigh and look to see Torgal rubbing his head on you. You smile, rubbing behind his ears. “Torgal will look out for us too.” 

Clive hums, appreciating the sight before him. “This is farewell for now. Till then, we have a god to kill.”

Everyone has now formed a semi-circle around the three dominants about to depart, watching as they walk towards the end of the deck. They pick up their pace, all of them running until they are no longer in sight. A bright light goes off and the next thing everyone sees is Bahamut carrying Clive and Joshua towards an event that will shape the world. 

-

You are sitting on the main deck, legs dangling off the side as you continue to stare off into the horizon. You haven’t left since Clive left, the golden hour long gone and twilight having come and gone, dusk now settling in the sky. It feels like it has been hours since his departure, when in reality it has only been a few. You wonder if they have made it to Origin yet, if the battle has started, if Ultima has been defeated… if they have met their maker for good. That thought makes you shiver. 

You hear footsteps coming from behind you before a presence sits right beside you. You don’t look, but the aura alone tells you it’s Jill and you smile slightly. She puts an arm around you, pulling you into her as you both continue to look into the distance, like they would be back any second. She twists your hair, which comforts you in a way, and you hum. It is silent for a while, watching the sky continue to grow darker and darker until the sky is black with its pearls. 

“Have you prayed to Metia today?” You break the silence with a question. Jill’s fixation that Metia answers prayers is comforting in these moments, especially when every prayer she has spoken through her heart has come true.

She shakes her head. “I haven’t, but only because I wanted you to join me. Our hearts combined will help, no doubt.”

You nod your head, and you both move into a position that faces Metia herself, kneeling before her with hands clasped together. You bow your head, and say your prayer in your head, letting your heart translate it in a way that only Metia understands. You pray for everyone’s safe return with little to no injury. You pray they come back healthy and happy. You pray for the dawn of a new age where you and Clive help build a world you two can grow old in. You pray for everything to be okay. You raise your head as you finish, and you admit that some weight has been lifted off your chest, but an uneasiness still sticks. You turn your head to see Jill finishing her own prayer, and she looks towards you with her hand reaching for yours. You give her your right hand and she grips it with a smile. “Metia has listened to our prayers. Now, we wait.”

“Jill, your faith that everything will be okay is admirable. I wish I had your confidence.” You confess, the sour feeling remaining deep in your body. 

“For the longest time, I thought Clive was long dead. I believed that Metia hadn’t listened. And next thing I know, there he is. Granted, it was years later.” She squeezes your hand, and turns so your knees are touching hers. “That’s why I have faith that they will return to us.”

“Maybe your faith will rub off on me, and not the other way around with my worries.” You chuckle, trying to make light of the night. 

“No matter what happens,” Jill reassures, “I will be here for you. We will be here for each other.”

You nod, and bring her in for a hug, squeezing her tightly which she returns. “Thank you, Jill. For everything.”

You both stay there for a minute, until next thing you know you hear running on the deck. You pull away to see Gav running towards you two, panic clear on his face. “Ah fuck,” he breathes in and out as he approaches. “Edda is in labor. All hands on deck.”

You and Jill gasp in unison, both jumping up to run to the infirmary to help bring new life into this world. And hopefully, a new one.

Day 2

“Alright, one more push, Edda.” 

You are sitting behind Edda, letting her use your hands for her death grip as she continuously pushes and wails out in pain. You, Jill, and Mid are giving her words of encouragement as she continues her labor, and after one final push Tarja fully delivers the baby. A cry echoes throughout the room and the atmosphere is full of happiness and relief. 

“Can I come in yet?” You hear Gav yell from the other side of the door.

“She just gave birth, Gav. Give us a minute.” Tarja yells, eyes rolling hard at Gav’s common sense.

“He’s just excited,” Jill chimes in. “As we all are.”

“Congratulations, Edda! It’s a boy!” Tarja finishes cleaning off the baby, kneeling beside Edda as she passes him off to her. You watch Edda admire her baby boy for the first time, her smile brightening up the room as she talks to him. 

Seeing them interact stirs you with an emotion you wish to experience directly. You and Clive have talked about having children, making it clear you two wouldn’t have any until the world has been set straight. But you two would talk about what it would be like to have a little you or a little him running around or both. You imagine cradling a little boy in your arms, giggling as you shower him with kisses. You imagine Clive holding a little girl, swaying her around while singing a melody. Two giggly children to call your own with the man you have fallen madly in love with. You feel as if your heart could burst from the thought. 

“_____, can you go up to the rear stacks to grab more towels off the lines?” Mid asks, taking you out of your sappy daydreams. You snap out of it, humming in the affirmative before moving away from Edda and heading to the door. You could barely get out the door before almost being trampled by Gav, running in like a mad man. “Let me see! Let me see!”

You chuckle to yourself, exiting the room and heading to the linen lines. Even when things seem dark, you can’t help but keep smiling at everyone’s high spirits tonight. You suppose new life being brought into the world will do that to people because it sure as hell is doing that for you. It’s a good distraction, and you accept it with open arms.

You grab some towels from the line, cradling them in your arms securely as you make your descent to the main deck and up the stairs to the infirmary. You reach the infirmary doors when you are once again almost hit by a body, except this time it was Jill. One quick look at her made it apparent she was crying. She doesn’t spare you a glance as she runs down the stairs, sobs fading as she goes further down. You turn to the open door, shock clear on your face. “What happened?”

Gav and Mid look at you like they don’t know what to say. You look at Gav, tears streaming down his face, and it’s like everything hits you all at once. Towels drop from your arms, your arms no longer working as your body starts to erupt. “No,” you shudder. “No.” You kept repeating yourself, not quite believing what’s happening. No words spoken, and yet everyone is saying your worst nightmare out loud. 

You could see Gav wanted to say something, but before a word could break the glass box you were building around yourself, you ran. You ran right out the door, and ran as fast as you could to Clive’s chambers. You slam the door shut, starting to pace back and forth with your fists yanking your hair. You turn to the balcony doors, and run to them, slamming them wide open before looking out into the distance. You see the moon, as bright and big as ever, yet Metia no longer shines in its vibrancy. You hear a howl and see Torgal and Jill, Jill’s head tilted down as her body continues to shake. Jill’s connection with Metia was enough to tell you that something terrible has happened: Clive is dead.

You back away from the door, utter disbelief and pain seeping into your lungs. He promised. He promised he would return to me. Your mind keeps reeling, and next thing you know you find yourself in Clive’s bed, wrapping yourself in his covers tightly to encapsulate his lingering scent. Sobs devastate your body, almost to the point of not being able to breathe. But you embraced it, for you wish you could stop breathing all together in this moment. 

You fall asleep with choked up airways and puffy eyes, dreams full of a future that’s no longer possible. You dream of him and him alone. You fall asleep in the dead of night, missing the sun greet Valisthea into a new era.

Day 5

Clive would’ve thought he was dead if it weren’t for the loud thumping in his head. He slowly comes to, the first thing he sees being light. It takes him a few seconds to adjust, his eyes working overtime against the strain. He feels sand, and hears the sound of waves. He goes to move his fingers when he notices he can’t move the ones on his left hand. He brings his left arm to his view and sees his hand is completely petrified. He couldn’t see the rest of his arm, but could feel the lack of blood and flesh ending right above his elbow. He pushes himself up with his good arm, hunching over in his spot as he breathes the salty air deeply.

Origin. He had defeated Ultima. The crystal in the sky was destroyed and now he finds himself here on this beach. Based on his surroundings, he concludes he is on the coast of Storm, even though the dark coast was no longer dark, but bright. It could have easily been mistaken for a coastline off of Valisthea, but behind him were still the dead brush of the continent. 

He wonders how long he’s been out for. He vaguely remembers waking up, but not long enough to recollect anything. He reaches up to his face to touch his facial hair, feeling the scruff that has grown out slightly. A few days, he thinks. It was a mere few days ago when he left the Hideaway with Dion and his brother, and now he is the only one left. It burns him up inside knowing he couldn’t save them, and the fact he watched his brother die not once, but twice weighs heavy on his heart. Especially because if Ultima hadn’t chosen him as his vessel, he most likely would have become the Phoenix and Joshua would be alive and safe. He couldn’t be sure, of course, but alas.

Clive knows it does no good to think this way. Just like he would have done anything to save Joshua, he knows just as well Joshua would’ve done everything to save him. He knew Joshua would want him to help bring Valisthea and Storm into a new age. And most importantly, he knew Joshua wanted him to be happy, and deserved as much. I cannot delve into what was, but what can. And what he can focus on is the future, especially one with you. 

Clive suddenly remembers the lily you had given him, and scrambles to retrieve it from his pant pouch with some difficulty due to one available hand. He felt its petals, still smooth and soft, and pulled it out to see it still looked brand new. He lets out a stuttered breath, eyes watering slightly. He almost couldn’t believe that after everything it had managed to stay in one piece, but he knew it was because you had blessed him with it. You had grown it, cared for it, and plucked it for him, and it was his turn to care for it. Just as well, it was time to keep his promise: to come back to you. He has been away for too long, and he must make haste now.

Clive sighs and slowly starts to stand up, gathering his bearings so as to not get too dizzy.  He stands still for a moment, breathing in deeply once more to ensure he won’t collapse before assessing his situation. He will need a boat. He thinks he could find a port somewhere, and worse comes to worse he travels to Waloed to get one there. He will need to eat something to gain some semblance of energy to do said travel. The biggest obstacle for him will be his arm, a heavy weight on his body that doesn’t help his fatigue. He will have to find something to make it more manageable until he can get back to the Hideaway.

He starts to walk up the beach towards the woods; body heavy from his wet clothes, stone arm, and tired eyes. But he will move forward, for you are waiting back home for him and his safe return. No matter the cost, he will make it home to you. 

“Darling, wait for me. I’m coming home.”

Day 14

It has been two weeks since the end of Origin, and to say you haven’t been grieving well is an understatement. You have a hard time getting out of bed these days, and your motivation to do anything is abysmal. You know your numbness is unsettling to other Hideaway members, many not knowing what to say when they see you. It’s like they saw you change overnight; your happy, go lucky self now tainted with expressionless reactions.

Gav has officially transitioned as the new Cid, but has yet to move into what will be his new room. He only comes in to do some paperwork, and read his latest messages. Oftentimes he will come to you, asking if he can get you anything, and he gets the same response from you every time: a subtle shake of your head. You are grateful that he lets you stay here as the smell of Clive’s sheets is the only thing keeping you from breaking all together. 

You had forced yourself out of bed today to go to the Backyard. You sat beside the flower bed, staring at the flowers hoping for something to happen. Flowers were your comfort for a long time, and now it is like they have no effect at all. You look at the lilies that are off to the side, and all you can do is scoff. Reunion my foot. 

You hear footsteps and paws coming down the stairs. You know it is Torgal and Jill, especially when Torgal has been stuck to Jill’s side for the last two weeks. You can’t blame him. You wouldn’t want to be around you either. 

“You came to pay the flowers a visit. They’ve missed you.” 

“They aren’t very good at showing it.” You shrug. You have been here for a few hours, and your mood hasn’t changed. You feel empty.

“Hortense is holding a sewing class for some new arrivals. You should come and say hi.” Jill says gently, not wanting to make your mood shift further south. 

Deep down, you know you’ve let Jill down. You had promised to be there for her like she had with you, yet your own self pity refuses to acknowledge your lack of empathy. The demon residing in your brain just tells you that no one understands. It doesn’t matter if everyone is grieving about the three’s passing; your happy ending relied on your lover coming back to you. Everyone else can move on, keeping him in their memory. You can’t because a part of you is now dead with him. 

You move to stand up, not wanting to bring her down with you. “They won’t want to see me. I’ll just make a fool out of myself.”

You move to head upstairs when Torgal blocks your walking route, and Jill gets in front of you. She grabs your shoulders, looking at you intently. You can see she is trying hard not to break in front of you, making that deep part of you scream to get over yourself. “Please, _____. You are an important asset to the Hideaway; the Jack of all Trades. I know they would love to meet you. The more kind people like you they meet, the more comfortable they will be here.”

Even since the end of Origin, new arrivals have continued to come in, many wanting to help with the cause. Even though bearers no longer have the power of magicks, it has led to more violence against those with the mark. This has led to everyone working more tirelessly to make strides for a future with new hope reinstated. You have yet to meet many of them, the motivation to do so never in your favor. 

“Clive would want you to continue his legacy.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to scream how his legacy has taken him away from you. You know your way of thinking is irrational, but the rational part of you is a mountain ready to avalanche. With the last bit you have, you take a deep breath, knowing she is right. He would want you to continue living, even without him. 

“Okay,” you nod. “I’ll meet them. I can’t promise I’ll come off as kind. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the strength.”

Jill smiles, brushing hair from your face. “All I ask is that you try. We miss you.”

You three ascend the stairs, Jill locking arms with you as if you’d run away. You make it to the main deck, seeing Hortense and a few new faces sitting in a circle. Hortense waves, signaling you three to join in. “_____, it is so good for you to join us!”

“It’s, um, great to be here.” You say, trying to come off as happy. 

You, Jill, and Torgal join the circle, quick introductions being passed around before Hortense starts her lesson. She is doing a lesson on basic sewing techniques using cross-stitching circles, showing everyone different patterns, styles, and methods for different types of fabrics. One of the new arrivals, Greta you remember her name being, was looking at your stitching constantly. You turn to look at her, and she quickly turns away. You look at her work, and you can tell she is struggling a little bit. 

“Hey,” you say slightly above a whisper. “Try this.”

You show her a trick when it comes to tightening the thread, making it so it won’t want to fall apart. “Okay, now you try.”

Greta follows your method to a T, going slowly as she does it from memory. She smiles, seeing how well it worked. “That’s genius! Thank you so much!”

You nod, going back to your own work with a subtle smile on your face. You remember when you first learned how to sew, and how difficult it was for you. You remember when you had to learn on your own, Hortense having too much on her plate. You forgot how good it was to help others, and even if this feeling is for a moment, you feel lighter. You face Jill to see her glancing at you, a grin on her face as she continues messing with her circle of fabric. You know she is punching the air in success in her mind right now.

The session lasts for roughly an hour, and Hortense puts it to a close. “I’ll hold another class next week. Feel free to practice in the meantime.”

‘Yes ma'am’ is said in unison, and everyone departs to get ready for supper. You and Jill stay behind, helping Hortense put stuff away and create small chatter. As you all finish up, you pull Jill aside, feeling the need to say something. “Jill, I want to thank you. But most importantly, I want to apologize for not being there for you as well. I promise to do better by you.”

“Oh, _____,” Jill coos, bringing you in for a hug. “It’s okay. I understand your pain. We will get through this.” 

You two continue like this, and all you can think is maybe this is a new start. Maybe you can start grieving in a better way than you have been. You know it won’t happen overnight, but after days of feeling like you’ve been dragged into a hole, you sense you can see the light. 

Someone is yelling from afar, and you pull back to see a woman walking quickly to Hortense, a basket of what looks to be freshly clean linens in her hands. You and Jill walk over to see the commotion, only to see another new face. Hortense motions you two over, grinning from ear to ear with the woman beside her. “Ah, _____! I don’t think the two of you have met. This is Willow. She’s been helping me a lot with many of the laundry duties.” 

“Oh Lady _____, it is so lovely to meet you.” Willow says, bowing her head slightly. “Also, lovely to see you again Lady Jill.”

You bow slightly, not used to such formalities towards yourself. Jill chimes in, glee in her tone. “You as well. Thank you for helping Hortense during this time. I know she surely appreciates it.”

“Of course!” Willow chirps. “I was coming over here to tell her the linens for the beds are done. Lady ____, I was able to clean your sheets as well so you will have a freshly made bed for tonight.”

You stop breathing, your ears deceiving you. “W-what?”

Willow was still smiling, not catching on to the atmospheric shift. “Your sheets! Hortense got me to get all the bed linens for a wash, but I went ahead and had your bed made as a good gesture.” 

Your heart is hammering in your chest, and your vision is starting to blur. She cleaned the sheets. She cleaned Clives sheets. Not yours, but Clives. The one thing you had left of him, the one thing that still smelled like him, the one thing that made it feel like he wasn’t completely gone from the world, vanishing right before your eyes. You are starting to breathe hard, everything around you is no longer real. It is just you being thrown back into your suffocating glass box, and being thrown back into that dreaded hole. You can hear voices, but can’t distinguish what is being said. It’s when you feel a hand on your shoulder that the glass shatters, leaving you bloody in the dark, dank hole. 

You collapse, the flood gates opening with shrieks and agonizing sobs. You are hitting the wood, small splinters digging into your fist as you continue. You didn’t care because no pain was more painful than what you are feeling right now. You hear running, and more commotion in the background.

“There is nothing to see here, take your leave.” It’s Gav. It fucking Gav.

“_____, please get up. What happened?” 

“This is my fault.” Hortense says mortified. “I didn’t tell Willow that room was off limits.”

Your breathing is now rapid, sucking air and pushing it out because it isn’t enough. Arms wrap around you and you thrash around, yelling and screaming to let you go. “Get the fuck off of me!”

Gav has you upright and the rage you are now feeling bubbles out, turning into hitting his chest. “You are the only other person that goes in there, and you didn’t notice the fucking sheets were gone?! How could you let this happen?!”

“Please, _____. I just got back from Lostwing. I haven’t been there since early this morning.” Gav reasons, getting a grip on you with your arms secure so you wouldn’t do something you regret. 

“That was all I had left of him.” You wail. “All I had was his scent and now it’s gone! It’s all fucking gone! He’s gone!” 

“I got her from here. You three go have dinner.” Gav picks you up bridal style, walking up the main deck stairs. You are still crying, and your vision is blurry but you can still make out what is behind you. Willow is hugging Hortense, both visibly upset. But then you see Jill, who is standing there looking at the ground, none moving. Torgal is nudging her, but she won’t budge. 

I’m sorry, Jill. I broke my promise.

Day 31

One month. It has been one month since Clive’s death, and you are no longer alive; a living corpse that lays in bed for days and days on end. You only get up to use the privy chambers, but other than that you lay there. Nothing is enjoyable anymore. The idea of going to the Backyard, to the Shelves, or even the Ale House is unappealing. Gav usually brings you food, sometimes Jill, but you barely touch it. You eat a little, but your appetite is non-existent; you eat only when your stomach tells you to. 

People don’t visit you like they did. Sometimes Jill, Tarja, and even Jote would come in for a short time. They would try talking to you, they would rub your side to bring comfort, they would brush your hair, yet you wouldn’t react. Those visits have slowly dissipated, and you can’t blame them. 

You hate what Clive’s passing has turned you into. You never thought grief would transform you so poorly. Grief isn’t new to you, just as it isn’t new for most people in the realm. You grieved when your parents passed, you grieved when Hideaway members didn’t return from missions, you grieved when Titan and his Dhalmekian goons killed so many innocent people in the Old Hideaway. But Clive is your one true love; the one man that was able to intertwine his soul with yours. They say once the soul has been torn into two, it never fully recovers. 

You get up from the bed with all the strength you can muster. As you stand, you face the mirror from across the room, and what you see makes you shutter. You walk over slowly, not quite believing that it is you in the reflection. Your fingertips drag along the cool surface, slightly dissociating in the process. What was once full and bright features were now hollowed from lack of sleep, crying, lack of appetite, and the grief that’s swallowing you.

“By the Founder, I look dreadful.” 

You want to heal. You want to get better. Your soul is waiting for your shell of a body to hatch, so it may continue to live. But how can you do that in a place where everywhere you look, you see him? Every corner of the Hideaway is covered with Clive’s aspirations, dreams, and ideas. If you want to move on, to grieve healthily, you can’t stay here. You need to be somewhere that takes you back to a time before Clive.

The moon shines brightly in the room, giving you enough light to maneuver around. You pack a small bag of your belongings, only with things that would benefit your travels, and dress yourself in clothes to protect you from the elements. Once situated, you walk over to what was once Clive’s desk and sit down. You grab the quill and a scroll, and look at the blank paper. Your eyes start to water, knowing this decision will ruffle some feathers, and will create a form of worry you won’t be here to satiate. You think about getting back into bed and forgetting about what you are about to do, but you know this is a must. You are holding everyone in the Hideaway back, and you can’t support the cause if you aren’t getting better. 

You must do this, so therefore you write. 

-

“What do you mean she left?” Jill raises her voice, the shock clear in her tone. 

Gav had come into Clive’s old chambers to send some letters out to town leaders when he saw the bed was empty and made, with a scroll lying on top of the pillow. When Gav opened it, and read the words on the page, he immediately called for an urgent meeting with the main Hideaway members. 

“She left this on the bed.” Gav states solemnly, passing it to Otto who is on his right. “Long story short, she doesn’t want to be found. She didn’t give a direct location to where she was heading. All she said is she will send word when she is ready to communicate.”

“She isn’t in the right state of mind to go out by herself!” Tarja says with irritation. “What is she thinking?!”

“How would she have even left? We only have one boat, no?” Tomes questions.

“We have a second boat in case the one Obolus uses is in need of repair.” Otto mutters, looking at the scroll a tad longer before passing it off to the next person. 

Jill stands up from her seat, huffing as she turns to take her leave. Gav stands with her, already reading her mind. “Where the bloody fuck you think you’re going?!

“Rather than us wasting our breath, I’m going to go find her!” Jill shouts, frustration built into her face. 

Tarja stands up quickly to grab Jill’s arm. “Now wait a damn second. We need a plan before we start going out willy nilly.”

“As you said, she isn’t in the right mindset to be out by herself. She could be dead in a ditch for all we know.” Jill seethes, pissed that nobody seems to be as fearful for her friend as she is. 

“She is strong, Jill.” 

Everyone turns to Jote, who is never one to chime in unless need be. She is holding the scroll, looking at it as she speaks. “I don’t know her as well as you all may, but from what I do know she is very resilient. She wouldn’t leave unless necessary, and this letter proves as much.”

Everyone is quiet, thinking caps on as they process Jote’s words. The first words spoken after the pregnant silence is Otto, turning to Gav seriously. “Gav, you are the leader of the Hideaway now. It is your call.”

Gav ponders for a moment, a bit torn of what action is best to take. You are family and he wants to know you are safe. He also doesn’t want to get in the way of what you need to do to get better. He fears sending Hideaway members out to find you will make things worse. 

“I think,” Gav pauses, sighing in the process. “I will alert town leaders around Valisthea to keep their eyes peeled for her. If she doesn’t want to be bothered, we shouldn’t intrude. Getting a location on her though would be beneficial for us to ensure she is at least safe.”

“Gav is right,” Otto agrees. “She will need to go into towns for essentials and will probably pass through a few.”

“If we don’t hear anything within a month's time, we will start sending out some search parties, but as I said we cannot bother her if we find her. We have to hope she will reach out to us when she is ready.” Gav continues, giving everyone a once over to see if his words are reciprocated.

Agreements are shared, some more hesitant than others, before Gav dismisses everyone to their daily duties. When the last person leaves, Gav collapses into his seat, taking deep breaths as he runs his hands over his face. 

“May Greagor be with you, _____.” Gav whispers to himself.

Day 40

You can’t sleep, constantly shifting under the covers with no sense of relief. You feel hot, which is abnormal for this cool night. You start to burn up, skin flaring until it starts to burn. You sit up, panicking as you throw the covers off of you before you freeze, breath caught in your throat. In the moonlight, there is a figure sitting across the room from you, head bowed down with arms in their lap. You panic in silence, not knowing whether to fight or flight.

“You’re awake.” That voice. You know that voice all too well. 

“C-Clive?” You stutter, not trusting your voice to break the quiet. 

Silence suffocates the room. You wait for a response, but he just sits there. You move off the bed and walk towards him slowly, feeling off about what you are experiencing. He’s dead. Metia’s star went out. This can’t be real.

You are standing in front of him now, your bare toes touching his boots. He still doesn’t move, so you move your hands to his head, messing with the strands of hair from his head. “Clive, is it really you?” 

“You left.” You pause, his tone off. Is he not happy to see me?  

“Clive, I thought you were dead. We all did.”

“And yet, you still left.” He growls, finally moving his hands to grip your waist tightly, on the verge of pain. “You promised to wait for me. You broke that promise.”

“Clive,” you choke. “I’m sorry I-”

“You broke your promise to Jill.”

“I didn’t mean to!” 

“You abandoned the Hideaway, my legacy, like it was nothing!”

“Clive, you’re hurting me.” You are crying now. His fingers are digging into your side hard, and you look to see he is shaking with anger. 

“This is nothing in comparison to how you have hurt me!” He yells, and he lifts his head, causing you to gasp. His eyes are orange, glowing bolder and bolder the more worked up he got. You try to pry his grip off of you, but to no avail. 

“Please, Clive!” You cry harder. “I love you, I'm sorry for leaving! I should have stayed!”

“You are too late, _____.” He seethes. 

“Because I don’t love you anymore.”

You shoot up from your bed, screaming in a cold sweat. You look around the room like a mad woman, trying to gauge your surroundings. A wave of nausea overcomes you and you fall to the floor, vomiting from the absolute madness that occurred in your head. You dry heave on the floor, waiting for the next course of nausea to arrive but it never came. You sat up so your back was against the bed, relieved you weren’t going to be sick again, yet frustrated all the same.

You arrived in Dhalmekia four days ago. Originally, you set out to find your childhood home where you grew up with your parents, but when you arrived at the village off to the left of the Northern Velkroy, it had all but been abandoned. Your home, that was left with memories of your old life, ravaged from what you could assume to be bandits. So you kept going, hitchhiking a few rides before traveling on foot. That is when you found a small, two room cottage down in the Fields of Corava, a place you weren’t aware of, having never been south of Dalimil. There was minimal damage; a broken window and some chipped flooring. It was a better place to stay for the time being.

Ever since arriving, however, your mind has conjured terrible dreams with it being the same every time. It was always you and Clive in this room with him degrading your worth. The first night didn’t feel real, knowing that Clive would never act as such with you. But tonight, after having it for the fourth time in a row, your heart is waning.

You stare at the chair you saw Clive in, an increasing amount of anguish washing over you as you look. He’s gone. Your fingers dig into your thighs, trying to ground yourself. He’s gone. You start to choke on air, not wanting the cries of grief released from your lungs. He’s gone.

He’s gone.

He’s gone.

He’s fucking gone!

The shell cracks, the quiet night becomes piercing as you scream. You shoot up to the chair, taking it and bashing it into the floor. You keep screaming, the splinters from the chair and the floor growing with each smack. No matter the ache your body is having, the adrenaline rushing through your it has given your grief new purpose; a cathartic event that is shaping your mentality.

The chair is nothing but wood; the bare bones of it. You get up to open the door, chucking the wood outside the door with rage. The splintered wood digs into your hands, your emotional distress covering any semblance of physical pain. Your screams have turned into wails, angry tears dripping from your face to the floor. 

This rage inside of you stirred by grief makes you feel like you're dying. If anyone told you that Clive’s death would make you transform into the living dead, you’d laugh. How could anyone make you feel dead when you were the cheerful jack of the Hideaway? 

The wood is now dispersed all across the field before you, bathing in the pure light of the moon. You sink into the cottage where the dark swallows you, slamming the door shut and sliding down it as your body continues its assault. Your bloody hands grip at your hair as you rock back and forth, chanting the same two words over and over.

He’s gone.

Day 70

The atmosphere at the Hideaway was the same like any other day. People were up doing their tasks or simply enjoying the day; it has been the same old, same old. 

That is, until the bell on the pier sounded off.

“What is going on?!” Jill yells, everyone looking over the main deck to see the commotion. The bell is only used for emergencies, like if an enemy were to approach the Hideaway. However, Jill sees that people weren’t panicking, but rejoicing. 

Gav runs up to Jill alarmed, trying to get a sense of what’s happening. “Oh fuck me! What’s going on?!” 

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Jill says, her and Gav picking up the pace as they walk to see the situation at hand; both ready to take action. The two of them push through the crowd, finally reaching the railing that sees over the pier. The first instant Jill looks down, a gasp is let out with her hand covering her mouth and eyes bulging. 

“No fucking way,” Gav whispers, not quite believing what he is seeing.

But their eyes do not betray them, for the bell has rang not for an emergency situation, but a message that he is alive. Clive is alive. 

“He made it… Great Greagor he fucking made it!” Gav cheers.

“Clive!” Jill yells.

Clive looks up to the main deck to see two of his cherished friends, and right as he makes eye contact with them, he makes a run for the lift. Gav and Jill follow his lead, running in the direction he is to come to officially greet him. The minute Clive steps out from the lift, Gav and Jill are on him, hugging him tightly to make sure he isn’t here to haunt the place.

“You’re alive!” Jill elates.

“I apologize for my late return. I didn’t realize I’d be sorely missed.” Clive jokes, watching as more people gather around them.

“Are you kidding? This place has been falling apart without you!” Gav exaggerates.

It makes Clive chuckle, placing his hand on Gav’s shoulder as he pulls back. “Seeing all the new faces, I doubt that. And that is thanks to you. Thank you for keeping the Hideaway safe.”

Clive feels something rub his leg, and looks to see Torgal rubbing his head against him. He bends down, using his good arm to rub behind Torgal’s ears. “Torgal, have you been a good boy since I’ve been away?”

“Clive,” Jill gasps. “You’re arm.”

During Clive’s travels back home, his arm had become more of a nuisance if anything. He is a strong man; he can wield swords made of the heaviest metals, no problem. But to have an appendage weigh more than the other, well, that is a whole different situation. He had ripped part of his cape and created a sling to keep his arm in place, making travel more bearable.

Clive stands up straight, rubbing his stoned arm. “Yeah… I didn’t get away completely unscathed.” Clive draws out. “But nevertheless, we won.”

“What of Joshua and Dion?” Jill asks, even though the look in her eyes tells him she already knows. All he could do was shake his head.  

“I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do.” Clive says, having much to tell. 

“You will, but not before we get your arm sorted out.”

“Of course,” Clive chuckles, and turns to see Tarja with her arms crossed and hip out. He is so happy to be back amongst friends and family, ready to truly cherish his time after a battle where he could have easily perished. But most importantly, he is ready to see you.

Truth be told, Clive’s travels back to Valisthea were consumed mostly by you. All he could think about was how he craves for you to be in his warm embrace, giving him kisses and caresses that would heal him for a lifetime. To be away from you for so long is agony, and what has kept him going was knowing the future is now his and yours; one where you both can live lives worth living. 

He looks around and sees a bunch of familiar faces approach, his original crew gathering around him as they welcome his return. He scans the crowd, nodding to everyone and granting a smile. However, he doesn’t see you within the sets of familiar faces. 

“Where’s _____?” Clive asks, scanning the crowd once more for your face.

Everyone goes silent, glancing at one another trying to communicate. An uneasy feeling settles in Clive’s pit, not liking the reaction he got with his simple question. 

Tarja is the first to speak up, diverting the question quickly with urgency. “We can talk about her later, but first we need to do something about your arm straight away. Jill. Gav. Take him to the infirmary. I’ll be up there shortly.” There was a look in Tarja’s eyes that told Clive she wouldn’t be there for a while, which made that uneasy feeling grow bolder. 

Gav and Jill suddenly hook arms with Clive on either side, walking fast so he had no choice but to follow. Clive could feel himself getting frustrated, having wanted to see you for days upon days and not being granted that wish immediately upon his return. 

He leans down to Jill’s ear, needing an explanation immediately. “Where is she?”

“It is better we explain once we are upstairs.” Jill reasons, although there is a shake in her voice.  

The four of them get into the infirmary, Jill and Gav situating Clive on a cot. Gav whispers to Jill, her nodding in response as he jogs out of the room. Clive looks at her, a million thoughts running through his head at their peculiarness. 

“Jill, what is happening?”

Jill twiddles her thumbs, taking deep breaths as she prepares herself. She looks down at the floorboards, and Clive can feel the tension in the room. “Some things happened while you were away, Clive.” Her breath trembles. “You aren’t going to be happy with what I’m about to say.”

“You are worrying me, Jill.” Clive says, trying to stay calm. “Please tell me what’s happened.”

Jill looks up, eyes starting to gloss over. She places her hands over Clive’s right hand, squeezing it gently. “The night of Origin. Metia’s star went out, and I couldn’t feel you anymore after that. I thought you were dead.

“Jill,” Clive says in a low tone. “I apologize for causing so much grief.”

“We all thought you died.” Jill laughs solemnly. “Seeing you right now doesn’t feel real.” 

Clive squeezes Jill’s hands as a means to comfort her, as well as to urge her to continue. She shakes her head, tears as icy Shiva’s magick slipping down her face. “We all took it very hard. Some held hope, but after weeks of no signs of your return, everyone had accepted it.”

Jill’s breath stutters. “But Greagor, Clive. _____ took it so hard.” The tears started to fall, Jill shaking as she continued. “She wouldn’t get out of bed, wouldn’t eat… oh Greagor she wouldn’t talk to anyone. She would just lay there no matter what we tried to do.”

Clive thinks his heart just tore. The thought of you like that made him ill. And the past tense of Jill’s words make the air all the more suffocating.

“Where is she, Jill? Let me see her, please.” He pleads, needing to show you that he lives and has come back to her.

“I’m sorry,” Jill cries, her head bowing onto their intertwined hands. “I’m so sorry, Clive.”

“Jill talk to me, please!” He begs before hearing the door to the infirmary open, only to see Gav with a small scroll in his hand. 

“Gav, you need to tell me what has happened.” Clive says sternly, knowing another second longer with no answer will send him into a frenzy. 

Gav shows him the scroll, making Clive gently let go of Jill’s hands to reach for it but before he could grab it Gav backed away. “When you read this, know that we have plans enacted.”

Gav hands it to him, taking another step back to give Clive more space. Clive unravels the scroll quickly, the need for answers strong. And he gets his answer, but that answer makes his skin run cold and go hot at the same time.

Gav,

I apologize for putting this on you. I know your transition as the new Cid has been a lot, and I am sorry for making it much harder for you. This space is yours now. Not Clive’s, nor mine.

You know as well as the others I am not well. A part of me died the day Clive passed, and being here has made any progress of healing not happen. Truth is, I see him everywhere. Everything here reminds me of him, and it’s killing me because one moment I see him and the next I don’t. The grief that has consumed me has become everlasting. 

By the time you read this, I will be far gone. Please, I beg of you, do not come find me. Do not send anyone to come find me. I will not come back, at least for now. Any chance of me getting better is for me to go out there, not stay here. I know this will cause worry, and I apologize for being a nuisance, but I have no choice. It’s either I die out there trying or I stay here rotting. 

Tell the others I’m sorry, especially Jill, and take care of her. Once I’m ready, I’ll send word of my whereabouts. Until then, please let me grieve in peace.

Much obliged,

_____

Clive is seeing red. His fist starts to squeeze the paper, crackles and the sound of a tear coming from it. “When did she leave?” 

“It’s been about a month.” Gav mutters, and everything that happens next is a blur. Clive shoots up from the bed, charging towards Gav before slamming him into the door.

“Clive, please don’t!” Jill cries.

“She’s been gone for a month?! And you have yet to find her?!” Clive yells, his fist gripping tightly onto Gav’s leathers.

“We have notified people on the outside to keep us posted.” Gav tries to reassure. “That is what the Hideaway members have agreed on.” His words do nothing to soothe him. If he still had his magick, he is sure hellfire would rain on the Hideaway.

“She needed time, Clive.” Jill rests her hand on his shoulder. “We chose to respect her wishes.”

He scoffs, backing away from the both of them, disbelief clear on his features. “You agreed to this too?”

“You were not here to witness what we did!” Jill yells agitated. “Clive, I understand your frustration, but if you saw how she was you wouldn’t think twice.”

He wants to stay angry, put the blame on someone selfishly. You’ve done so much for the Hideaway, the cause, everyone involved. How could they let you leave? But all he feels is defeat. He came too late, and now he needs to make up for lost time.

“Excuse me,” Clive mutters, walking towards the door Gav is still leaning against. 

Jill shoots herself to grab the upper half of his petrified arm, a grunt forced out at the pulling tension. “Clive, you need to stay right here so Tarja can do something about your arm.” 

“No, I am going to go out and look for her! She needs to know I’m alive!” He tries shaking her grip off his arm, but to no avail as she holds on tighter. Panic is starting to set in, not knowing where you are and if you are safe freaking him out. It is almost as if he is experiencing firsthand what you went through. 

Gav steps forward, putting his hands on Clive’s shoulders shaking him slightly. “We have cursebreakers looking for her daily now that the month of her leave has passed. We will find her. And now that you are back, we will bring her home.” 

“Once you are better, we will go with you to search for her. But for right now, you need to rest. Let the cursebreakers do what they’ve been assigned to do.” Jill reassures. “Let’s get you ready for Tarja. The sooner she can fix you up, the faster you can go out.”

Clive takes a deep breath before nodding, and lets Jill and Gav guide him back to the cot. He sits back down, and all he can do is look down at the floorboards. Anger and defeat have turned into a sadness he cannot fully comprehend; a feeling he hasn’t quite felt before. “Do you two mind giving me some time alone? Please.”

“Of course, Clive. We will be outside if you need anything.” Jill says, before the sound of four feet patter across the floor and the creak of the door opens and closes, leaving Clive completely alone.  

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that; unmoving, eyes glued to the floor. All he thinks is he should have found a way to send a message to you so you knew he had survived. Deep down, he knows there was nothing he could have done given his circumstances, but that doesn’t stop the blame game he is putting upon himself. So he sits there, wallowing in his heartache as his shoulders shake and throat lets out faint sobs.

The letter is still held tightly in his grasp. 

Day 71

Waking up early in the morning before the sun makes its greeting isn’t abnormal for you, not when you dream constantly. Sometimes your dreams would startle you. Sometimes they would make you wake up crying. Sometimes they would wake you up with a smile on your face. But the time is always the same; the moon is always there to tell you the time of the morning and you fall back into a deep sleep before the sun shows itself. However, this time is different. 

In recent days, you’ve had nothing but wonderful dreams. Not ones like when you first came here, or ones about a future no longer possible. They were dreams of the past, deja vu in nature. Fond memories of you and Clive ranging from the first time you laid eyes on him to the last. What’s different about your calling back to the real world is your eyes open to hues of yellow and orange shining through the window. It is not the moon’s beams that greet you, but the sun’s rays.

You get out of bed and go to the door, opening it to step out onto the field. The early morning air hits your skin, the grass licking at your feet as you continue forward. You trek to the spot between the elevated land, a v-shape displaying the rising sun as it continues its ascent. Your hand goes out in front of you, watching your skin transform as the sun’s colors grow brighter. You can’t help but smile at the sight before you because all you feel is peace. For once since Valisthea changed forever, you felt like everything will be okay. 

You think about the first time you and Clive watched the sunrise together, holding each other tightly as you both talk about how it is a new day full of hopes and dreams. You remember him telling you how he has never felt more alive than he did in that moment, and you can understand why; you understand because you feel the same. 

You know Clive would want you to live to the fullest, for that was what he wanted all along. Even if things didn’t turn out the way they should have, he would have wanted you to live for him, but most importantly for yourself. He would want you to remember your time together fondly, and that it wasn’t for nothing. It was everything. 

You inhale deeply, the scents of the morning filling your airways before you exhale. You continue to look out on the horizon, mesmerized by the beauty of a new day; a new start .

“I deserve to be happy, right Clive?” You whisper to yourself. “I will continue to live for you and for me. Starting now.”

This is the start of your new life. 

Day 172

“These are absolutely beautiful, my lady. These are so hard to find in Dhalmekia.” 

You smile brightly, watching the woman before you admire your handy work. “I’m pleased that you love them. Morgenbeards are native to the swampy waters in Rosaria, but I was able to get my hands on some seeds.”

“You must know your stuff to get them to grow here.” The lady continues.

You shake your head, grinning at her. “I have my ways.”

To say things have gotten better would be the greatest understatement in history because you are thriving. It is as if everything has fallen into place. You fixed up the small cottage you are residing in so it felt more like a home rather than a temporary visit. You did a lot of prep work to ensure you’d live comfortably. The greatest thing, however, is you found a way to make a living for yourself, the one thing you do best: grow flowers. 

You noticed how flowers grew in the fields, yet you could tell they needed help; the Dhalmeky dirt too dry to keep them alive for long. You were able to get some books on flower gardening, along with different kinds of seeds, all imported from merchants who graciously accepted the little gil you had. It took some time, but those things helped you open a flower shop out of your home. And thus far, it has been a wonderful success.

You had taken a flower cart to Dalimil to get your name out there, and to let people know where to find your business. You eventually want to move your business within the inn’s market, but when you had come to propose the idea, you found out Lubor had been gone on an expedition. The cart will have to do, you recalled thinking. The people there have been nothing but supportive, offering their business in exchange for theirs: vases, business signs, gardening supplies, etcetera. It was a good system that benefitted you and them. You were grateful.

You are sitting at the kitchen table, having closed shop for the day, sipping on some hot tea as you write down your daily earnings. A hard day’s work is rewarding, and knowing your flowers have made your customers happy makes you happy. To be doing things that feel worthwhile feels good, and the last time you felt this way was when you lived at the Hideaway.

The Hideaway. You stop writing as you reminisce about those times. It really wasn’t that long ago, yet it feels like a lifetime. Have I changed that much? 

You miss everyone dearly. You miss Tarja’s tough love. You miss Mid’s inventiveness. You miss Otto’s gruffness. You miss Tome’s stories of his travels. You miss Jote’s coolness. You miss Gav’s banter. You miss Torgal’s way of comforting you. You miss Jill’s faith. You miss everyone. You often wonder if they miss you too.

You are surprised no one has come looking for you, or have found you if they were. You think about what they must have thought when you left that letter. Were they angry? Sad? Worried? All three? Did they listen to you when you said you didn’t want to be found or did they nonstop look day and night for you? You couldn’t tell. Not unless you find out for yourself. 

You set the daily earnings paper aside, and lay out a fresh one, your quill hovering over the paper as you think of what to say. There are so many words to say, yet you don’t know where to start. Do you share everything? Do you just tell them you are okay? Do you tell them where you are? So many questions to answer with little paper to write it all out. So you write something simple, hoping it gets the message across.

I hope this finds you well. Come see me if you wish. You all know where to find me.

Day 179

Clive’s search for you has been non-stop, days and nights spent looking for trails only to find dead ends. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how you could have disappeared without a trace. But that will not deter him. He will not stop looking until he finds you.

Every place that Clive could think of they checked. Areas in Dhalmekia were the first places they looked, knowing you knew the area better than others. The very first place they checked was your childhood home near the Northern Velkroy, but it didn’t look like there were any signs of life there. Different towns within the area were checked but no one had heard or seen you. Hell, they were more surprised to see him alive and well to focus on the whereabouts of a lost woman. He understood, but it grated his nerves. 

Every other place in Valisthea had been scouted and marked as they went, but every location and mark was the same. So here he was, writing letters to town leaders of the cause again to be his eyes. You have to show up somewhere eventually, if you haven’t already. 

As every day passes, his heart wanes further. It yearns for you, calling out its other half to be complete again. When he does rest, granted not for long periods of time, he imagines you are lying with him. He holds a pillow close in his arms, picturing it to be you to subdue his crazed heart and mind. It was nice to pretend, but then he wakes up and is sorely disappointed to see what lies in his arms is just that: a pillow. It’s a cycle because the same thought crosses his mind each and every time: the day you are back in his arms will be a momentous day. That day has yet to come.

He keeps writing the same words over and over on different sheets of paper when he hears commotion from beyond his doors. The fighting instinct in him shoots up, running to the door to see what was happening when he sees Otto, Jill, and Gav running towards him.

“Has something happened?” Clive asks, alarmed. 

Otto reaches Clive first, shoving a piece of paper into his hand. “She has communicated with us.”

Clive couldn’t read the paper fast enough, not quite believing this day had come. He rings out the paper to straighten it before reading her handwriting. “She is staying in a cottage in the Fields of Corava.” 

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go get the lass back!” Gav expresses with full excitement, springs basically on the bottom of his feet with how bouncy he is. 

Jill pats Gav on the back. “Gav, let’s let Clive go alone.” She then turns to face Clive, an understanding smile greeting him. “They will need some time together.”

“Thank you, Jill.” Clive says softly. “I thank all of you.” 

“Well, if that’s the case…” Gav draws out, approaching Clive before slamming his hand on his shoulder, “you better get cleaned up! You have a lady to see.” 

Clive laughs at Gav’s antics, and turns to ready himself; ready himself to return to you once and for all.

Day 184

It’s late in the morning as you gather flowers into your basket, trimming and cutting the ones that have bloomed beautifully. The flower gardens in the field were flourishing more and more every day. The more you work in the gardens, the more fulfillment you feel. You felt this when you helped out in the Backyard, but what you built here is from your own doing. You believe it to be a testament to your growth, showing that you made the right decision all those months ago. You’ve created your own little utopia, and to share it with others is a beautiful thing.

As you cut fresh flowers, you start to wonder if people at the Hideaway got your letter. You would love for them to come visit, and see what you have done with the place. You wonder if they will ever come to see you or if they will send a letter back. It could be any day now, and you will be ready.

You have a full basket of flowers ready to be put in vases, and before you can get up to head inside you see a shadow lingering above your form. “I’m sorry, but I won't be open for another couple of hours.”

There is no reply, and the shadow remains as still as a statue. You sigh, standing up to turn and be more clear with your words. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but I still need to se-”

The flower basket falls from your grasp, tumbling out and falling into a heap by your feet. Time has frozen, not feeling real as you look at the person you have longed to see for months. You question if you are hallucinating, having had moments where you would see Clive one second and the next he was gone. This, however, was different.

The man before you was not in uniform; just a simple white tunic that displayed a few of his chest curls at the v-cut and regular black trousers with his leather boots. His face was clean-shaven, the facial hair he had kept for so long absent from his face making him look younger. The biggest difference, however, was his left arm; from his elbow down was gone. How could this be hallucination?

“Am I dreaming or is this real?” You breathe, blinking a few times to see if he’d disappear. He didn’t.

He takes a step forward, grabbing one of your hands to place it over his heart. He is warm, his heart fluttering quickly. He is looking down into your eyes, where you see his baby blues grow glossy. “This is real.” He murmurs. “I’m home, sweetheart.”

Something about his words break you, your hands latching onto his shirt to hold yourself to reality. He’s home. My Clive is home. 

You can’t help the sobs that leave your mouth as you bury your face into his chest, making him wrap his arm around you as you both collapse down into the flower beds. You are feeling every emotion under the sun, and you can tell Clive does too as he holds you in his lap. He cries with you, sharing a reunion so pure that it is overwhelming. You lift your head and bring his face to yours, kissing him so deeply that your lungs shake. Exchanges of small words come out between the two of you as you give each other kisses that have been longed for. 

“I never thought I’d see this day.” You say with a wobble in your tone, kissing him again and again. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Clive croaks, and goes back in for your lips.

There you both make up for lost time; holding onto each other in a field of flowers where kisses and touches are continuously exchanged.

- 

You and Clive eventually went inside. You turn the sign on your door to ‘close’, so no one can bother you two. You watch Clive look around the place, taking in your little set up of flowers on the kitchen table.

“I apologize for the mess. I’ve had a lot of requests over the last few days believe it or not.” 

Clive looks at you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least. You’ve always had a way with flowers. Speaking of which…”

He reaches into his pocket, only to pull out the lily you had given him all that time ago. You gasp, surprised he has kept hold of it. “You still have it? But how?”

“I protected it with my life.” Clive sets it onto the table. “You gave it to me with the wish that I’d return to you. I wasn’t going to lose it easily.”

“You are so endearing.” You say, but you have so many things you want to know and that alone puts a small frown on your face.

Clives sees the shift immediately, grabbing your hand to console you. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” 

“What happened at Origin, Clive?” You ask, needing to know what he went through for the time he was gone.

Clive exhales, seemingly knowing that question was coming. He pulls your hand towards him as he walks to your bed. “We should sit down. It is a long story.”

The two of you sit down and Clive still has a tight hold on one of your hands. “Forgive me, for this may take me a second. Thinking about certain events there still hurts.”

You bring your free hand to his face, which feels smooth under your touch. His head leans into your palm, turning slightly to kiss the delicate skin. “Take all the time you need. I am here.” You murmur. 

And so, he tells the tale of Origin. He tells you about Dion’s sacrifice. He tells you about what he found out about Ultima’s plans. He tells you about Joshua’s passing, something he had a hard time conveying without his voice breaking, but he pushed on. He tells you about Ultima’s demise. He tells you about how he woke up somewhere off the Shadow Coast of Storm. And he tells you how throughout his journey back to Valisthea, all he could think about was how he couldn’t wait to come home to you. All of it was hard to listen to, hearing what he went through from Origin till now. 

“So, Metia going out was a sign that magick has been lost…” 

“Mmm,” he hums, the both of you lying down now.

“So that’s why you didn’t become wholly petrified? You stopped it in time.”

“Tarja did a great job removing it and ensuring my stub was healed properly, despite my stubbornness.” He jokes, but you don’t laugh. All you can think about is the past.

“If only I waited a little longer,” you start. “I would have saved us so much grief.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself.” Clive shushes, kissing the top of your head and pulling you closer into his body. “Jill told me you had a very hard time grieving. I will not shame you for doing something you felt was right.

You bury your head into Clive’s neck, breathing in something that is so undeniably him. “You know, when I first got here, I would have these dreams. Nightmares really.”

Clive stays silent, letting you continue. “It would always start and end the same. I would wake up with you in the room, and the next thing I knew you were telling me I had betrayed you… and that you no longer loved me.” You start to sniff, not liking to recall those dreams. “For such a long time, I felt I didn’t deserve to be happy because I had left part of your legacy behind. It felt like your ghost was haunting me day and night.”

“Oh, darling,” Clive pulls you into him so you are on top of him with legs on either side of him. Clive brings your forehead to his, his thumb coming up to swipe the tears building up in your eyes. “I could never not love you.” He looks deeply into you, burning the truth of his heart into you. “I am yours even beyond death.” 

His words overwhelm you, and you lean down to kiss him with every passionate fiber in your being. Your hands go to his torso, running your fingers up and down the sides as you continue to show him how much you love him. He grunts into your lips, his arm holding you down to him. Your hands start to slide slowly under his tunic, your fingers slowly ascending until they reach his chest only to go down again. The delicate touch of your fingers makes his hips buck right against your heat, a grunt and a moan echoing together simultaneously. Your hands go back up again, only this time you bring the tunic with you. 

“We have a lot of lost time to make up for.” You say against his lips.

Clive smirks at your boldness, only to flip you over on your back so he is hovering over you. “That we do, darling. Forgive me, though. Having one arm gives me less leverage.”

You hum, bringing him back down to you by his hair. “I’m sure we can manage.”

You two make love into the night and into the morning, not getting enough of one another; making up for lost time.

Day 200

Since you and Clive’s reunion, he had decided to stay for a while. He had sent a letter to the Hideaway to let them know you were well and that he would be staying for the time being, making Gav in charge. 

“He’ll love that.” You had joked.

“He’s his own man. I have all the faith in him.” 

These last few weeks have been sublime. When you wake up, you see Clive snoozing away beside you on your right; always the right so he can wrap his arm around you in his sleep. He has also helped you with the flower shop. You two would go out in the morning before the heat set in to work the ground and water the flowers. You don’t know if the yearning in your body has yet to be satiated, but there have been times when you would come outside to gather more flowers to see Clive with his shirt off, sweat glistening on his burly chest as he works. It takes every bone in your body not to jump his own. Most times, you are unsuccessful. 

You also found out Clive is quite the salesman. When you two would go out to Dalimil to sell from your cart, the way he is able to convince people to make a purchase is astounding. Is it the charm? The looks? A combination of both? You could guess, but it didn’t matter. Every time you made a sale, he would turn to give you a quick peck. 

“I would kiss you for every individual flower we sell, but we don’t want to scare them away now, do we?”

After a long day out in Dalimil, you two are now inside the cottage finishing up dinner. You are cleaning the dishes when you feel him behind you, wrapping his arm around you pulling your hips to his. You hum in a laughing manner, his friskiness showing as he places kisses on the side of your face. “Clive, let me finish these.”

“They aren’t going anywhere.” He hums, his kisses lingering below your ear. 

You sigh but continue cleaning. Clive, on the other hand, was not having it. He pulls you away, soap and water sloshing from your hands as he pulls you to him. He plops down onto the kitchen chair, bringing you into his lap. “Hmmm, I got you.”

“You are such a horn dog. Are you sure Ifrit still doesn’t linger within you?” You laugh, then squeak when he pinches your side.

“In all seriousness,” he murmurs in your ear. “I want to talk about something.”

“About?” You hum.

“About our future.” 

“Go on,” you urge. “What about our future?”

“Well,” Clive starts, “living the way we have the last couple weeks, my mind can’t stop wandering to what I want for us.”

Your hand reaches up to his cheek, only for him to nip at the tips of your fingers causing you to giggle. “Such as?”

“To start the life we’ve always talked about.” He places more kisses on your neck. “One where our lives are strictly ours. One where I come home to my beautiful wife.” 

“I like the sound of that.” You mewl, his kisses making you squirm in his lap.

“One where I get to see you bearing our child.” His hand goes down to your tummy, rubbing just above your uterus. 

“I’ll be surprised if I’m not already with all the love making we have done.” You giggle. 

He chuckles along with you, his hand squeezing your flesh. “You’d look beautiful. You always do.” He continues, “one where I get to raise a little me, a little you, or both.”

“It all sounds so wonderful.” You purr, feeling all warm and fuzzy at his remarks. 

“Then let’s go ahead with step one.” Clive says, lifting you off of him only to sit you back down. He kneels before you, both of your hands in his one. “I don’t have a ring, but I can’t wait a moment longer. _____, will you do me the utmost honor of marrying me?”

You hum, smiling brightly at his question. “Would you have me in a wedding dress? A big ceremony?”

“Anything your heart desires.”

You shake your head, laughing at his insistence. You look at him, letting yourself get swallowed by his eyes. “I’d marry you with just the clothes on my back.” 

Clive grins, bringing your left hand to his lips as he kisses your ring finger. “I cannot wait to marry you, future Lady Rosfield.”

Lady Rosfield. It has a nice ring to it.

[lemotmo]

Their downward spiral has been fun 😊. But everything she said is fact.

Q. Your boy wonder blocked those of us who don't love his boy wonder. Class act you got there.

Q. We get it Oliver we say Tommy you say block. Still want us to pretend he's not a brat?

Q. I asked your leader about his onscreen boyfriend and he blocked me. Actually he told me I was getting blocked and then he blocked me. Very mature of him.

Q. What kind of petulant child actually takes the time to go through a comment section of 900 plus comments like that photo had and manually deletes certain comments and then blocks the person who sent the comment? And you want us to respect him????

Q. He's so pathetic 🙃. How are you not mortified by how embarrassing his behavior has been? Nevermind you are you will just pretend you're not.

Q. Oliver is basically giving his fandom the middle finger and yet he has the nerve to get butt hurt because we all like Lou more. What an immature brat.

A. So this is a very small sample of the asks I have received since Oliver went on his blocking spree. I wanted to include a sample because every single person who has sent me a complaint that he blocked you has intentionally not disclosed the question or comment you left that got you blocked. The only thing that's clear is they all involved Tommy in some way. And based on your pattern it's not hard to imagine that most of those comments probably included insults of some kind directed at anybody not Tommy/Lou. Oliver is not a brat. Oliver is tired. They are all tired. The sad thing is if you all had allowed the story to just unfold and taken it for what it was, Oliver would have been very kind to you. Because he's an absolute teddy bear of a man. He never gave you all false hope. He's been the one you should have been paying attention too because he has the one who's been honest with you. He never would have shipped it but he would have been respectful of you shipping it. And when Tommy's part was complete, that character, and you, probably would have even received a thank you post of some kind from Oliver because he loves Buck, and he would have been grateful for the role Tommy played in getting Buck ready for his next chapter. That's the kind of person Oliver is. The Oliver you all are seeing now you brought on yourselves. He is a petty king and once you push him over the line it's over. You all have made it your mission to make him, and his friends miserable because they refuse to encourage your delusion. You deserve being blocked by him and I hope he continues to do it. There's no need for him to subject himself to your abuse. He doesn't have to allow Tommy content if he doesn't want it there.

The real reason you all are so upset today is that you're rapidly running out of delusions to cling too. They have systematically eliminated or debunked every one of your talking points, and that's what actually angers you. Examples:

'OMG Oliver and Lou are total besties look how much they love being together' = Oliver completely ignores anything and everything Tommy/Lou related. Doesn't like any Tommy content, doesn't follow Lou on any social media. Zero BTS interactions. Publicly admits to blocking people who demand he fawn over it.

'Oliver and Ryan clearly hate one another and only tolerate each other because Buddie fans are insane' = Oliver and Ryan take, share, and post amazing b&w photos of one another. Loads of BTS content of the joking around and having a good time together on set. Follow each other on social media. Openly discuss and like Buddie content. Admit to reading Buddie fanfics and watching fan edits. Hang out at each other's houses and play around with Instagram filters.

'Lou's going to be bumped up to main: = release cast lost proving that didn't happen and he didn't even appear on the call sheet

' Buddie will never happen because Ryan said he won't play queer/gay' = Ryan does several interviews openly discussing the Buddie possiblity. Refers to Eddie as queer coded, starts using only gender neutral pronouns. Films a BTS video implying he hooked up with Peter Krause.

'Tim sent us a DM telling us spoilers' = Tim gives an interview flat out dismissing this.

This is the reality and it's making your delusions increasingly difficult to sell. Your own people are starting to wake up and as a result you turned your venom on your own people. And what's insane is if you had just been basic level decent you would have found plenty of fandom people who would have let you fan girl over Tommy. We have all been there. We have all fallen for a minor side character the show was never going to care about. I promise you people would have been kind to you about it. But you followed the lead of a crazy person and believed being horrible and nasty to people would get you what you wanted. You're in the position you are because of yourselves. No one else is responsible or to blame. And that's why no one feels sorry for you. Everyone is exhausted and that clearly includes the cast as well. What they're doing is hilarious and deserved.

Thank you Nonny! I do appreciate you dropping this in my inbox.

All right, Oliver is obviously as fed up with all this craziness as we are. I say 'good for him' that he is actively curating his online spaces. He is just doing what all of us do on social media: blocking the people we don't want to deal with, deleting the comments that contain topics of things we don't want to see, deleting comments with hatred in them, deleting comments where anons are shitting on our friends...

As for the rest of this excellent reply?

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