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wannabehockeygf · 1 day

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hurt my feelings - elias petersson

part of the think later fic series

"She wears your number, but I got what you like, She's got you right now, but I'm still on your mind, I should've known better, You should've known better than me."

*** request: "I was wondering if you would be able to do an Elias Pettersson one? If not that’s fine, but if you do I would LOVE hurt my feelings with elias where he is in an open relationship and sleeping with the main character, but she’s in love with him yadayadayada. If you could do angst with a happy ending that would be great. Thank youuuu" summary: a more-than-stupid hookup has you feeling more than you thought it would. word count: 6k pairing: elias petersson x fem!reader warnings: nothing really, post-sex stuff? notes: - hi requester ty for waiting for so long for this. it's been in the making. - first petey fic! - not really proof read. - also the fact tate wrote this about a hockey player... cole sillinger u will always have fumbled. ***

Elias lifts his hips, pulling up a pair of sweatpants you’ve never seen in any picture of him, or anywhere else but when he’s with you. Which, admittedly, means you’re either in his car, at your dingy studio in Coal Harbour, or some other obscure spot for a quick fuck, just for him to leave right after.

You don’t want to feel this way. But the heart wants what it wants, and you want him.

Problem is, you can’t have him.

You watch him adjust his sweatpants, the fabric clinging to his hips, and feel the familiar ache in your chest, one you desperately try to ignore. His skin gleams under the dim light of the car’s dashboard, and the air inside is still thick with the heat of what you’ve just done, your clothes scattered near the passenger seat. But the warmth between you faded as soon as he reached for those pants.

The reality of it all starts to settle in, creeping up on you as you sit there, still trying to catch your breath. Your body’s exhausted, but your mind? It’s racing, swirling with all the things you don’t want to admit, not to yourself, and definitely not to him.

Elias, with his perfect nonchalance, runs a hand over the top of his head, his eyes scanning the fogged-up windows. His fingers drum against the steering wheel like it’s just another night, just another routine. And that’s what you hate the most—that it’s all so easy for him. He always makes it feel like it means nothing. Meanwhile, your heart is screaming at you to stop pretending it doesn’t.

“You want me to take you home?” His voice breaks the silence, casual, like he hadn’t just been inside you, like the intimate moments you share have no lasting weight.

You glance at him, a knot tightening in your stomach. The suggestion feels so transactional, like a one-way ticket out of his life until the next time he feels like doing this again. And you hate that you want the next time so badly.

“No,” you mutter, though your voice betrays you, shaky and unsure.

His brow lifts, a flicker of surprise, though he quickly masks it with that cool indifference. “No? You wanna stay here, or what?”

You hate how his tone makes it seem like you’re the one being unreasonable. You shift, pulling the hem of your shirt down to cover yourself, fighting the creeping embarrassment that always comes in these moments. “I just—” you hesitate, searching for words that won’t make you sound pathetic, needy. “I’m not some, like… some pit stop for you to get off and leave, Elias.”

He turns to you fully now, eyes narrowing slightly, the laid-back air around him thickening into something heavier. “What are you talking about? You knew what this was.”

Of course, you knew. You told yourself that over and over again, every time you ended up tangled in his sheets or here in his car. But knowing doesn’t make it hurt any less. “Yeah, I did,” you snap, the words sharper than you intended. “But I didn’t think it’d feel like this.”

“Like what?” His voice is calm, too calm, like he can’t understand why you’re spiraling.

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bitterness rising. You weren’t supposed to feel anything for him, right? That was the whole point. “Like I’m some backup plan until you’re bored again.” The confession hangs in the air between you, thick and unwelcome.

He exhales slowly, turning his gaze away, staring through the windshield into nothing. For a moment, it seems like he might say something to comfort you, to give you some semblance of reassurance. But instead, all you get is a quiet, “I never promised you anything.”

And there it is—his honesty, cutting deeper than you’d expected. You should respect him for it, for being upfront, but all it does is twist the knife in your chest. “I know you didn’t,” you whisper, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “But it still sucks.”

The car falls silent again, save for the hum of the engine, and for a moment, you wish you could just crawl out of your own skin and leave the feelings behind. Maybe then you wouldn’t care about how Elias is already emotionally checked out, like this was just another night, another body. Your body, for now, but never your heart. That wasn’t part of the deal. Yet here you are, feelings clawing their way to the surface no matter how hard you try to shove them down.

“Look, if you don’t wanna do this anymore, just say it.” His voice cuts through the silence, casual as ever, but this time it has a slight edge to it. Like you’re the one being unreasonable for having, god forbid, feelings. “I told you from the start, I’m not looking for anything serious.” He shifts in his seat, pulling his hoodie down over his chest like he’s already ready to move on with his night. “I thought you were cool with that.”

You feel the words hit like a punch to the gut, the weight of them sitting heavy in your stomach. Cool with that? You’re supposed to be cool with feeling like nothing more than a convenience? Like your body is something he can dip into whenever he feels like it and then discard just as quickly? You swallow hard, trying to push back the anger that’s rising, though your hands are already trembling in your lap.

“Yeah, well,” you start, your voice barely steady as you speak, “I thought I was too.” You pause, searching for the right words, but they won’t come. How can you explain something you don’t even fully understand? “But it doesn’t mean I want to feel like… like this.”

Elias shifts again, turning toward you, his brow furrowing in confusion. His fingers drum lightly on the steering wheel, the casual rhythm so at odds with the tension building in the air between you. “Like what? You’re acting like I’m doing something wrong.” His tone is laced with mild frustration, as if he genuinely can’t grasp why you’re spiraling. And maybe that’s what makes it worse—the fact that he doesn’t get it.

You look away, staring at the streaks of condensation on the window as your vision blurs with unshed tears. “Like I’m just a body to you,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Like you only want me when it’s convenient.” The vulnerability in your words makes your skin crawl, and you hate how pathetic you feel, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Elias lets out a long sigh, rubbing his hand over his face like you’re exhausting him. “I’m not trying to make you feel like shit,” he says, his tone softening, but the detachment is still there. “I told you from the beginning, I’m not gonna settle down. This is just… fun. You knew that.”

You know he’s trying to be reasonable, but it doesn’t matter. The words feel like salt in a wound, deepening the hurt that you’re so desperate to hide. Fun. That’s all it is to him. You clench your fists in your lap, nails digging into your palms, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I’m not asking you to settle down with me, Elias. I’m not fucking delusional,” you say, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay calm. “But I’m not some fucking plaything either.”

His head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing. “Jesus, you’re blowing this way out of proportion,” he says, his voice sharper now. “It’s not that deep. You’re making this into something it’s not.”

The dismissiveness in his tone makes your blood boil. You can feel the heat rising in your chest, a flush creeping up your neck as the anger takes hold. “Not that deep?” You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “God, you really don’t get it, do you?” You turn to face him, your eyes burning as you meet his gaze. “I’m not asking you for some fairytale relationship, but fuck, Elias, I deserve more than being your afterthought.”

He stares at you, expression hardening as your words hit. His jaw clenches slightly, the tension visible in the way his hands grip the steering wheel. “Again, you knew what this was,” he repeats, his voice low, controlled. “If you’re catching feelings, that’s on you. I didn’t ask for that.”

The coldness of his words stings, each one hitting like a slap. And you hate it—the fact that he’s right, that you’re the one who let your heart get involved in something that was never meant to go beyond the physical. But knowing that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “You don’t think I know that?” you shoot back, your voice shaking with anger. “I didn’t ask for it either. I didn’t want this. But it’s happening, and it fucking sucks.”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You’re being ridiculous,” he mutters under his breath, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “We agreed this was just sex. Nothing more.”

Ridiculous. The word echoes in your mind, bouncing around like a cruel reminder of how you’ve let yourself get here, feeling something for someone who can’t even give you an ounce of what you need. Your hands tremble, and you quickly shove them under your thighs, trying to keep yourself from completely falling apart in front of him.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m ridiculous then,” you spit, the bitterness in your voice seeping into every word. You feel the tears threatening to spill over, but you blink them back, refusing to let him see just how much this is hurting you. “But I’m done with this. I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t bother me.”

Elias looks at you, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite read—anger? Frustration? Indifference? You can’t tell anymore. “Whatever. I’m taking you home.” ***

You sit on the edge of your bed, legs crossed, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow across the room. Your phone rests beside you, silent, no new notifications lighting up the screen. You've been staring at it for what feels like hours, waiting for something—anything—to distract you from the gnawing emptiness settling in your chest. But, of course, nothing comes.

With a frustrated sigh, you grab your phone, thumb hovering over Instagram, knowing full well what you're about to do to yourself. You shouldn't, you know that, but the temptation is too strong. Against your better judgment, you open the app and type her name into the search bar. Her profile pops up almost immediately. There she is—her.

Elias’ girlfriend.

You click on her latest post, a snapshot of her at Rogers Arena, grinning ear to ear, wearing his jersey like it’s a crown, her hands raised above her head in mock celebration. #CanucksWin, the caption reads, followed by a string of blue and green heart emojis. She looks so… happy, like she belongs there, like she’s the one who has his heart, his attention. And maybe she is.

Your chest tightens as you scroll through her feed. Picture after picture of her and Elias at games, on vacations, laughing together, looking every bit the perfect couple. There’s one of them at the beach—Elias, shirtless and grinning, his arm slung casually over her shoulders, while she looks up at him like he’s the only person in the world. That smile, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners... You know that smile. You've seen it before, but not like this. Not in a way that made you feel like you’d been given something special, something real.

No, with you, it’s different. It’s fleeting, temporary. You’re just a body to him, a release when he needs it. Nothing more.

You hate it. Hate how she looks so comfortable in his world, while you're stuck on the outside, desperately clawing at the edges, trying to convince yourself that you don’t want what she has. But you do. God, you do.

You toss your phone onto the bed, resisting the urge to scream. The jealousy burns in your throat, hot and bitter, swirling with a cocktail of self-loathing and frustration. You shouldn’t care. This wasn’t supposed to matter. But here you are, scrolling through his girlfriend’s Instagram, tearing yourself apart because she has what you can’t.

The thought of her being with him—touching him, laughing with him, wearing the #40 like it was hers—makes your skin crawl. And the worst part? You can’t stop thinking about it. You can’t stop thinking about her. About how she gets to have the part of him you’ll never touch. His heart. The part that matters.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, your fingers are already moving, dialing Elias’ number. It rings once, twice, and then you hear his voice on the other end, casual, indifferent.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, like he’s not surprised at all to hear from you.

Your heart thuds against your ribs, the jealousy bubbling up into your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “You busy?”

There’s a pause, and you can hear the faint sound of music in the background, a soft murmur of voices. “Yeah, kind of. I’m with—” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence for you to know who he’s with. The words are already twisting in your chest, like a knife being driven deeper with every syllable.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to… meet up,” you say, trying to sound casual, like you’re not affected by the fact that he’s with her right now. “You know, for a quick one.”

Elias lets out a soft chuckle, the sound grating against your nerves. “I can’t tonight,” he says, his voice smooth, unbothered. “I’m with my girl.”

The way he says it—my girl—makes your stomach churn. You clench your fists in your lap, nails digging into your palms as the anger simmers just beneath the surface. “Right,” you mutter, trying to sound nonchalant, but the bitterness seeps into your voice anyway. “Of course.”

You can practically hear his smirk through the phone. “Another time,” he says, like it’s no big deal. Like this is just a game to him, and you’re a piece he can move around whenever it suits him.

“Yeah,” you force out, teeth gritting. “Sure. Another time.”

You hang up before he can say anything else, before you can hear the sound of her laugh in the background, or worse—imagine them together. The thought is enough to make your skin prickle with jealousy, the heat rising in your chest, suffocating you.

Before you know it, you're grabbing your keys, slipping on your shoes, and heading out the door. You don’t even bother to think twice. You aren’t the type to back down, not when you want something. And right now, you want Elias. You want to prove to him, to yourself, that whatever he has with her doesn’t compare to what he has with you.

By the time you arrive at his ritzy apartment in Yaletown, your heart is pounding in your chest, nerves and adrenaline mixing together in a volatile cocktail. You stare at the building for a long moment, the reality of what you’re about to do settling in. You shouldn’t be here. You know you shouldn’t be here. But the jealousy is too strong, too consuming, and all you can think about is how badly you need to see him. Need him to see you.

So, you go up the elevator. Up to whatever floor you know he’s on, the one where you can see all of Vancouver in its expensive glory, and you knock.

You stand in front of his door, knuckles still tingling from the knock, heart thundering in your chest. The hallway is eerily quiet, the only sound your own shallow breaths as you wait for him to open the door. And when it finally swings open, there he is—Elias, standing in front of you, shirtless, skin gleaming like he’s been lounging around, maybe with her. The sight of him, so casual, so at ease, only makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low but sharp, like he wasn’t expecting you, didn’t want you there. Behind him, you can hear the faint sound of a television, laughter that isn’t his. Her laugh.

Before you can respond, her voice floats from inside the apartment. “Eli? Who is it?”

Your heart clenches painfully, her voice piercing through the air like nails on a chalkboard. She sounds so… comfortable, like she belongs there. Like this is her place, her life, and you’re just an intruder.

Elias’ eyes flick to you, something unreadable passing over his face. He turns slightly, leaning into the doorframe as if shielding you from her view. “It’s nobody, älskling,” he calls back, his voice steady, but the dismissal hits you like a punch to the gut. Nobody. “Give me a minute.”

Your throat tightens as he steps into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The distance between you is small, but it feels like a chasm. He doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t reach for you. He just stands there, watching you with that same indifferent look, like you’re something to be dealt with, not someone he wants to see.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice is low, but the edge is unmistakable. It stings. But not as much as the jealousy burning inside you, clawing its way up your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep it together, trying not to let him see how close you are to breaking.

“I needed to see you,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. The truth of it tastes bitter on your tongue. You hate yourself for it, for how desperate you sound. For how desperate you are.

Elias sighs, rubbing his hand along his jaw, the muscles in his arm flexing as he does. You hate how your eyes follow the movement, how even now, when your heart is shattering, you still can’t stop wanting him. “You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, glancing back at the door like he’s afraid she might overhear. “You know I’m with her tonight.”

That word—her—sends another wave of anger crashing through you, and before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out. “Yeah, I know you’re with her. I saw the Instagram posts. I saw everything.” Your voice cracks on the last word, betraying just how deep the jealousy runs, how much it hurts to see him with someone else, someone who isn’t you.

He frowns, his brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw her at the game, wearing your jersey, looking so damn happy, like she has everything,” you spit, the words tumbling out faster than you can stop them. “Like she has you. And she does, doesn’t she?”

Elias’ face hardens, his jaw clenching as he crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s because she’s my girlfriend,” he says quietly, the calmness in his voice making your stomach twist. “And you’re… not.” The words hit you like a slap in the face, knocking the air from your lungs. "You’re not." Two little words, but they’re enough to unravel the fragile composure you’ve been clinging to. Your entire body goes rigid as the weight of his indifference sinks in. It’s like being plunged into ice water—shocking, numbing, suffocating. Your lips part, but nothing comes out. What can you say? That you know you aren’t his girlfriend? That you know you don’t belong in his world, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise? That every second of this—of him—feels like borrowed time?

Your chest tightens, jealousy wrapping around your throat like a noose, squeezing until you can barely breathe. You try to swallow it down, to keep the rising panic at bay, but it’s too much. It’s all too much. The sight of him standing there, so cold, so unreachable, while just behind that door, she laughs, probably stretched out on his couch, wearing his jersey, living the life you want. The life you can never have.

Your hands tremble at your sides, and you press them into your thighs, trying to steady yourself. But your knees feel weak, like they might give out beneath you at any second. You hate this. You hate the jealousy coursing through your veins like poison, making you feel small, insignificant, pathetic. You hate how he can do this to you, how easily he can reduce you to this—a broken, jealous mess, standing in his hallway, trying not to fall apart.

“I… I don’t care,” you choke out, though the words taste like a lie. They hang between you, brittle and fragile, crumbling the second they leave your lips. Of course, you care. You care too much. That’s the problem. The jealousy claws at your chest, each breath shallow and ragged as you try to keep the dam from bursting. But it’s too late. The cracks are already there, spidering through your resolve, threatening to split wide open.

Elias just stares at you, his brow furrowed, like he doesn’t quite understand why you’re standing there in front of him, unraveling at the seams. He uncrosses his arms, his posture softening ever so slightly, but his face remains guarded. His silence only makes the jealousy gnaw harder at your insides, like it’s eating you alive from the inside out.

“Why are you with her?” you whisper, your voice trembling, barely audible over the sound of your pounding heartbeat. You hate how vulnerable you sound, hate the way your voice cracks, betraying just how much you’re hurting. But you can’t stop yourself. The words tumble out, desperate and raw, needing to understand. Needing him to say something that makes sense. “Why are you with her when… when you don’t even care about her the way you—” You cut yourself off, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. You can’t say it. You can’t admit it.

Elias’ gaze flicks to the floor, his expression shifting, something like guilt passing over his features. He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it, like he doesn’t know where to start. The hesitation sets your mind racing. The jealousy swirls around your thoughts, twisting every moment you’ve spent together into something ugly, something tainted. Has any of it been real? Or have you just been fooling yourself in your delusions all along? Is this really all you are to him—a temporary distraction, something to fill the empty spaces between him and her?

“I don’t know,” Elias finally mutters, his voice barely more than a sigh. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see something there, something deeper, something almost sorrowful. But then it’s gone, replaced by that familiar guarded look. “I just… I don’t know.”

The simplicity of his answer, the emptiness of it, sends a wave of frustration crashing over you, mixing with the jealousy already burning in your veins. “That’s it?” you snap, your voice rising, barely able to keep the tremor out of it. “You don’t know? You’re with her, you’ve been with her, but you don’t know why?”

You’re losing control. The words are tumbling out faster than you can stop them, your heart pounding in your chest as the jealousy consumes you, feeding off every tiny piece of doubt, every flicker of uncertainty. You hate how much you want him to give you an answer, to explain why he’s with her and not you, why you’re standing here, outside his door, while she gets to be inside, living the life you’re so desperately clawing for.

“I—” Elias starts, his voice soft, almost apologetic, but you can’t let him finish.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” The question comes out more like an accusation, the jealousy twisting your insides, making you feel sick to your stomach. “That’s why you’re with her. Because you love her, and I’m just—” You swallow hard, the words catching in your throat. Just what? A fling? A mistake?

“I don’t—” Elias stops, running a hand across his jaw, his expression torn. He lets out a long, frustrated breath, his gaze darting back to the closed door, like he’s afraid she might hear. “It’s not like that,” he says, but his voice is quiet, hesitant, like he doesn’t quite believe it himself.

“Then what is it?” you demand, your voice shaking, barely able to keep the desperation at bay. Your hands clench into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you fight the urge to cry, to scream, to do something other than stand there, unraveling. “Because it sure as hell seems like she has you. She’s got the jersey, she’s got the smile, she’s got the fucking Instagram posts—and what do I have? What the hell do I have, Elias?”

He stares at you, his jaw tight, his eyes flicking between you and the door, like he’s trying to figure out what to say, but can’t. The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating, and you feel yourself breaking, the dam inside you cracking wide open.

“You can’t even say it, can you?” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back for so long. “You can’t even admit that you don’t care about her the way you—” You stop, choking on the words, unable to say what you so desperately want to hear.

Elias lets out another sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly, and for the first time, he looks tired. Tired of this, tired of you, tired of the mess you’ve both made of whatever this is. His eyes meet yours, and there’s something there—something almost sad. But it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally mutters, his voice low, almost resigned.

You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest as the jealousy twists and tangles inside you, tightening its grip until it feels like you’re going to burst. “I want you to say you feel something,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Anything. Just… anything.”

But he doesn’t. He just stands there, his face blank, his silence louder than any words he could have said. And that silence—it shatters you. It breaks you into pieces so small you don’t even know if you can put yourself back together again.

“I can’t do this,” you finally choke out, the tears you’ve been holding back for so long spilling over, hot and fast, burning as they slide down your cheeks. You swipe at them angrily, hating yourself for breaking in front of him, for letting him see just how much he’s destroyed you. But there’s no stopping it now. The dam has broken, and the jealousy, the hurt, the love—it all comes rushing out in a tidal wave of emotion you can’t control.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whisper again, your voice cracking, barely able to hold yourself together as you look up at him, your heart in pieces at his feet. “I thought I could, but I can’t. I love you, Elias. And I hate it. I fucking hate that I love you, and you can’t even—” You stop, choking on the sob that rips through you, your whole body trembling with the force of it.

Elias’ face softens, his brows drawing together in something that almost looks like regret, but it’s too late. You’re too far gone. You’re already falling apart, the jealousy and heartbreak swallowing you whole.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice low, almost tender, but it only makes the pain worse. Because sorry isn’t enough. Sorry doesn’t fix anything. Sorry doesn’t make you her.

You shake your head, the tears blurring your vision, making it hard to see him. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice hollow, broken. “Me too.”

*** The rain starts falling in steady sheets, drumming against the window as you sit curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the TV screen. The flickering images mean nothing, just background noise to the storm inside your mind. You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been sitting there, wrapped in one of Elias’ old hoodies. The fabric is worn and soft, smelling faintly like him—like cedar and soap, like something familiar and heartbreaking all at once.

You hate that you still wear it. Hate that you can’t let go, even when you know you should. Even when you know it’s over. He chose her. He made that painfully clear, standing there in that hallway, his eyes darting between you and the door where she waited for him. And yet, here you are, clinging to the last scraps of him, like they could somehow make up for everything you’ve lost.

The rain blurs against the window, much like the tears you’re too tired to shed. You feel hollow now, emptied of all the anger, the jealousy, the heartbreak that consumed you. All that’s left is a dull ache, a quiet sorrow that settles deep in your chest, heavy and unmovable.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts, sharp and unexpected in the quiet of your apartment. Your heart stutters in your chest, a flicker of hope igniting even though you tell yourself not to feel it. It can’t be him. It won’t be. And yet, as you stand and pad to the door, every step feels weighted with anticipation, your fingers trembling as they curl around the handle.

You open it to find Elias standing on the other side, the beanie on his head damp from the rain, droplets clinging to his jacket. He looks like he hasn’t slept, his eyes dark and tired, his expression unreadable as he stares at you in the dim light of the hallway.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. You just stand there, your heart pounding in your ears, waiting for him to speak, to say something that would make sense of all this. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, like he’s seeing you for the first time, like the weight of his silence might crush you both.

“Can I come in?” he asks finally, his voice low, hesitant, as if he’s afraid of your answer.

You should say no. You should slam the door in his face, walk away, leave him standing there in the rain. But you don’t. Instead, you step aside, the words caught in your throat, and let him in.

He moves past you, his presence filling the small space with a tension you can feel in your bones. He stops in the middle of the room, glancing around like he’s searching for something, maybe the right words, maybe some kind of explanation. But all you can do is stand there, your hands gripping the hem of your hoodie, his hoodie, trying to steady yourself.

“I broke it off with her,” Elias says quietly, his back still to you, the words hanging in the air like they might shatter the second they leave his mouth.

You blink, your mind struggling to catch up with what he’s said. The rain beats harder against the window, filling the silence between you, a reminder of the storm both outside and within.

“What?” Your voice sounds foreign, small, like it isn’t even your own.

Elias turns slowly, his eyes meeting yours, and you see it then—the sorrow, the regret, the weight of everything that’s passed between you. He takes a step toward you, his movements cautious, like he’s not sure if you’ll let him get any closer.

“I broke it off with her,” he repeats, more firmly this time, his gaze steady, unwavering. “I know there was an agreement, but itt wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t fair to you. I should’ve done it sooner, but… I was scared.”

Scared. That word echoes in your mind, bouncing off the walls of the tiny apartment, wrapping around you like a vise. What did he have to be scared of? He’s the one who had control, who made you feel like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for him to decide if you were worth saving.

“You hurt me,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, the rawness of the admission surprising even you.

“I know.” Elias steps closer, his hands slipping into his pockets, his posture uncertain, like he’s not sure what to do with himself. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The apology should feel like relief. It should feel like something breaking free inside of you, but instead, it only makes the ache in your chest grow heavier. “You can’t just… say sorry and think it fixes everything,” you murmur, turning away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Elias doesn’t respond right away. The weight of his silence feels almost unbearable, pressing down on you like gravity. Then, after what feels like an eternity, you hear him take a deep breath, his footsteps soft on the floor as he moves closer.

“I know I can’t fix it,” he says quietly, his voice so soft it’s almost lost beneath the sound of the rain. “But I don’t want to lose you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind from your lungs. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, searching for any hint of the indifference you’d seen before. But it’s not there. Not now. Now, his eyes are filled with something else, something raw and honest, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I love you.” The words spill from his lips, quiet but sure, like he’s been holding them back for too long. “I love you, and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Your chest tightens, a rush of emotions surging through you so fast you can barely process them. You want to believe him. You want to fall into his arms and let those words heal all the wounds he’s left behind. But the scars are still there, fresh and painful, a reminder of everything that came before.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the tears you held back earlier threaten to return.

Elias closes the distance between you in two quick steps, his hands reaching for yours. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver through you, the familiarity of it both comforting and heartbreaking all at once.

“Please,” he murmurs, his voice low, desperate. “I’m not asking for everything. I just… I need you to know how much you mean to me. I need you to know that I choose you.”

You look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in slowly. He chooses you. After everything, after all the hurt and confusion, he’s standing here now, choosing you. But is it enough?

His fingers tighten around yours, pulling you gently toward him until you’re close enough to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I know I don’t deserve another chance,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours, his voice thick with emotion. “But I love you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you, if you let me.”

After what feels like an eternity, you nod, a single, tentative movement. “Okay.”

Elias lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it in for hours, and without another word, he closes the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you in a way that feels both familiar and brand new. The warmth of him, the solid weight of his chest against yours, makes something inside you unclench, like you’re finally able to breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you believe him. Finally.

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l-in-the-light · 2 days

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The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition Whole Cake Island (part 12)

Lawlu in Whole Cake Island? There is none! Actually... do we really need Law to be present to analyze it, come to think of it? Luffy is really all we need; to watch his behaviour, things he says, his determination, to guess how Law's influence would show and how partying ways with him (even if temporarily) would impact Luffy.

This is the Alice in Wonderland Arc of One Piece, which means Luffy's main struggle will be to face himself, his own weakness, fears, and maybe even his own self-hatred. Which is why this time it won't be the usual scrutinizing analysis of frame by frame, but instead I will take a deep-dive into Luffy's mind. Are you ready? :D

Luffy starts Whole Cake Island arc in a rush. Because why wouldn't he feel in a rush? There's a wedding to stop! There's a chance they won't make it in time, after all. But... seeing how Zou ended, there's probably one more reason why Luffy is so irritated and wants to get things done as fast as possible... there will be someone waiting for him in Wano, alongside the rest of Luffy's own crew. Luffy could tolerate being seperated from his own crew for two years, but this two weeks trip to Whole Cake Island seems like a torture to him. What changed exactly between timeskip and now? Oh, right, Law got added into the picture ;)

"See? She didn't have any problem with my yeeting!" and I wish he could add "Law also had no trouble after I yeeted us in Dressrosa, you should be more hardboiled like him!", because I swear, this feels like the thing he actually means. And he is right, Law hated being yeeted, but he dealed with it just fine in the end, keeping his clear mind and sense of direction intact.

And then, out of nowhere, Luffy gains an interest in cooking. Luffy, of all people! The very same Luffy who thought a musician is more essential on the crew than a cook!

He even compares Nami's nutritional knowledge to a doctor instead of a cook. For Luffy, a cook is just someone who makes your food look and taste extra great, but it's not neccessary for a kid who grew up in a jungle eating everything the way it comes or simply by roasting it over a fire. So why is he suddenly so interested in cooking?? Is he missing Sanji that much? Is he trying to make his crew miss Sanji so the reunion is more emotional? Good guesses, but they have one flaw: they don't take Luffy's personality enough into account.

Back in East Blue, Luffy agreed to recruit a cook before a musician only because his crew wanted one and also because he's a freaking glutton.

"You guys are really rude, I made this food for you!" now that doesn't fit with Luffy's personality of "I want to eat all the meat". Suddenly, it's for them, hm?

Then he tries his own "kitchen sink curry", spits it out, shouts that's it's inedible and flips the table! Why so mad? Oh yeah, because as we learn soon after, he tried cooking multiple times and it's still something that can't be eaten. He tried so many times that he wasted a stock of food they had that was supposed to last them for a week, for all of them! And it's all gone in one day.

Luffy's frustration is understandable then, because this is what he considers to be "his best attempt". As we learn from SBS, Luffy's best dish is just a bowl of meat (in other words: pieces of meat put in a bowl lol), which means he would not prepare "curry" or any sort of exquisite dish for himself. He indeed did this dish with others in mind. He would be more likely to just roast whatever he caught and shove it towards them, asking "you want some?", if it was only about him.

Despite his constant failures, he's still not getting discouraged and wants to learn how to cook edible things for people to enjoy. Nami though stops him and tells him "to never go into the kitchen again", ouch. They have been starving for days as the result of Luffy's "cooking attempts" and Luffy almost lost his life as the result (eating poisonous skin of a fish they finally caught), so her reaction is understandable. But this should make us realize that Luffy, thanks to this whole (mis)adventure, understands Sanji better without even realizing it. After all, Sanji was also told to "never cook again" by his father.

But I think this adventure has one more meaning. Whole Cake Island is basically a tale about the good and bad sides of food industry, but also how food creates connections between people. And I think XxXholic covered the latter part better than I could ever put in words, so forgive me for the unexpected crossover here. You don't need to know XxXholic, its plot or characters to be able to follow the quotes, they also don't spoil anything from the plot, so don't worry. We're just following one of the many, many side characters there.

First of all, if you want to repay a debt or show your gratitude, the best way is to offer food and good drink. And the best way to do it, is to offer stuff you cooked yourself, because they require your own time and effort, and include your feelings (of gratitude and love) for the person you cooked it for. If someone does you a favour, it's a good idea to say "thanks" by preparing a dish they like, for example.

"I would like to cook with you and then eat it together. And then I would really like to know more about you. And for you to learn about me, as well" says the protagonist to one of his clients. Cooking together is a big thing because it creates an equal, mutual bond: you get to know me, I get to know you, and we can both try to become better at cooking together, but also better people for each other as well. Because by cooking we learn more about what the other person likes and dislikes, but also about their personality: their usual way of problem solving, about their patience, flexibility, stubborness, ability to learn etc. Your prefered way of cooking can also reflect your personality this way and you try to offer your best through a dish you put a lot of effort to make, for someone to enjoy.

You can learn a lot about yourself as well through cooking. If you compare your own cooking to someone else's, you can realize your own personality traits you wished you would have never noticed (for example impatience, like Luffy flipping the table in anger: even Nami called him out on it, Sanji would not approve of that action!). You might also realize that someone preparing food for you did it with lots of feelings, of kindness and love, and that's why that food tastes good. And if in comparison your own food is terrible, bland, without flavour or personality, it just shows you don't really share your own love with the world through the act of cooking. In Luffy's case up there, his food was so terrible (though definitely full of his personality lol) despite him putting in his best effort and feelings. How did it make him feel about himself? Perhaps like he has nothing good to offer to people he loves? But his final reaction is always this: try to be better and do better!

Luffy offering his failed attempts to his crew serves the same purpose: he's offering them what he has, even if the result is disgusting. But this is the kind of person Luffy is at the moment and he has nothing better to offer!

The sidestory in XxXholic has a happy ending, the struggle continues on and the woman's significant other supports her efforts and says they will wait for as long as it takes. Now, what does that have to do with One Piece? The reason this woman couldn't cook something that would taste good wasn't because she's clumsy, or didn't put any effort in or lacked knowledge (she actually studied cooking like it's an university subject, it clearly mattered a lot to her!).

What she lacked in the end was love, not for others, but for herself. She hated herself so much that she believed anything she would do would turn out bad (which is exactly what happened over and over), almost like she was subconsciously self-sabotaging her own efforts. And since she didn't have love for herself she had nothing to give to others either, despite caring for them and being so grateful to people who loved her the way she is, imperfect, disbelieving in her own worth, broken. She just didn't feel like she has anything to offer to all the great people around her.

Sounds familiar?

"What can you do?" Arlong asks Luffy. "You can't do anything, you're a disgrace as a captain". And Luffy proceeds to say he has great people who support him (which means he does not think of himself as great, he knows he lacks in so many ways), but there is one, just one thing he can do for them back: it's to beat up people like Arlong.

And yet despite that, in Whole Cake Island, Luffy attempts to do what he literally can't do: to cook. He knows he can't do it, but he tries it anyway, knowing very well what the end result will be. It's not that he lost his mind. We mustn't forget why he's doing a stealthy mission on WCI. It's exactly because he can't do what he usually does: beat up Big Mom. He promised he won't do it. But what *can* he do then? It's his struggle to become better and get out of his comfort zone, and he starts that from attempting cooking. It won't be the first or last time that he will fight against himself in this arc, even denying things he had the most confidence in. This is the arc in which Luffy loses the sight of what he can and can't do, and needs to come up with a new answer or rediscover the one he already had all along. This is Luffy in a crisis.

Now is that related to Luffy being seperated from Law and dealing badly with it? Or Luffy realizing how much he knows Law has faith in him and he wants to live up to it? Because like we established before, Luffy is doing this stealthy attempt only for the sake of his alliance with Law, he would not bother usually and would just destroy Big Mom because she's in his way. I can only imagine Luffy's inner struggle when he tries to come up with a new solution here but can't get any, nothing works out if he just can't beat up the bad guy and move on. Luffy's later refusal to eat anything that isn't Sanji's cooking, not even the syrup rain, must reflect how Luffy feels about himself in this moment: he feels pathetic and useless and he must hate himself for it.

There's one more angle to it. Luffy suspiciously wants to cook as fast as they're seperated from Law. He thinks nutritional knowledge is something a doctor does and he's impressed with it. Law is a doctor. It's not a stretch to think that Luffy wants to learn something new to impress his favourite person upon return. It's highly likely he wants to cook for Law as well (and he's using his crew for taste-testing for now), because he has feelings of love and gratitude he wants to convey to him, but he doesn't know how to do it. But Luffy always had Sanji who used his cooking exactly for that: to show his feelings of love for people (and was very vocal about it!). Luffy is just trying to do the same, but he realized he can't do it no matter what. By the end of the arc he comes back to terms with himself and finds the old truth again: he will leave the cooking to Sanji and rely on his crew. He can try to be a better person in other ways, but he will keep on searching for a way to show love and gratitude to them.

And we will not talk about Luffy suddenly remembering people smooch each other and talking about it in context of Sanji's wedding, uhum. If that's on his mind all of a sudden when it wasn't even once for last 80 volumes, then you can guess why it suddenly would be. People who love and care for each other smooch, so maybe he was considering... things...

Another odd thing Luffy does, which is to check on the map and comments, frowning "it's weird". He has a point, because we learn later it was a deliberate trap. But he's paying attention here because he tries to be useful and does things he usually wouldn't be doing. Just like with cooking.

Same here. It's probably the first moment in which Luffy realizes that having a longterm plan would be actually a good thing. Yeah, Luffy of all people. That's because he must be thinking "if it was Law, he would definitely have one". I feel like other people were pointing it out to Luffy before, but it's the first time he actually shows that he kinda cares and isn't answering with "I'm just here for the adventure. And become a king of the pirates, no plans included!".

Look here. This is Luffy in a crisis. "I have to get back and I'll destroy everything in my way if I have to!" Not only he's not supposed to destroy everything or beat up Big Mom, which he points out a moment later, but Luffy is clear here, he made his decision: if he can't go back, he will simply get rid of everything on his way. Getting back is the most important thing, everything else be damned.

Except... are we really talking about Sanji here? Get back where, Luffy? To Wano perhaps, where your crew and Law will be waiting?

"I'm not going to die in a place like this!!", "I made him a promise, but it's not here!!". I'm just saying, this applies both to Sanji and the promise Luffy made "to meet up in Wano". And if he wants to get back no matter what, it's because he knows he can't die here, he can't force a certain someone to go through a big loss again. He would rather tear off his arms than not return at all and break his promise.

And we get Sanji with his "I didn't tell you to wait..." and Luffy just laughs in reply. This particular laugh he used only once before, btw, and I don't recall anywhere else:

When he was telling Zoro how much he's worrying about Sanji. Because why wouldn't Luffy know that Zoro and Sanji are the most important people for each other? Zoro is his best friend and his first crewmate, Luffy just knows what's in his heart, the same way that Zoro probably knows who is so important for Luffy as well.

Do you still think Luffy-Sanji scene was *only* about Luffy and Sanji? That the whole promise talk was only about Sanji? And not two particular people waiting for both of them in Wano? It was always about both reasons.

Luffy says he can't be the king of the pirates without Sanji. And demands that Sanji says how he really feels (which is "to go back on Sunny" ❤). Imagine if Luffy said both of those lines to Usopp in Water 7. Maybe a lot of the conflict could have been avoided. Especially if Luffy would also follow his very own advice, because he was not saying his true feelings in the quarrel with Usopp. What changed since Water 7 in Luffy? A lot, actually. Ace, timeskip, Dressrosa, Law... All those things are huge milestones in Luffy's development. But there's also the promise he made. He promised Zoro his crew to bring Sanji back. And that promise also changed everything.

WCI is also the first arc in which Luffy says he is ready to drop everything, even his own dream, and go save whoever needs to be saved for his crew's sake. It's very ironic how in this scene he also needs to struggle against himself, this time with his enormous hunger, that seems to sabotage his ironclad determination. For once Luffy doesn't do things for food and that despite the whole arc being exactly about food. That's how serious he is.

Now we have to talk about the alliance with Bege. Here is Luffy's initial reaction: "what an awful person", "Bege is gonna get it!". He does not like Bege at all, he also wants to punch him for what Bege did to Pekoms. In other words, Luffy doesn't think Bege is a good person, at all.

But just a moment later, when Jimbei tells him "you should work together with Bege", Luffy changes his mind immediately. He's all up for this alliance. His crew, that has been with Luffy the longest (Nami and Sanji) can't believe their ears. What an interesting change, isn't it? Like I argued at the beginning of this post, Luffy has to do things differently this time instead of doing what he usually does. The problem is, he's not good at anything else than "beating the main bad guy". That's why in this case he's determined to do something he would usually never do. And forgive me for the callback again to XxXholic, because I can't resist:

Luffy has the same idea as the protagonist here. "This is all I can do", and "if this person was with me, they would be able to find a better way". In other words, Luffy agreed to this alliance because he thinks this is something Law would do as well. Luffy is constantly wondering in Whole Cake Island how Law would handle the situation and he knows he can't come even close to his level, but at least he will try to follow in his footsteps.

Of course Luffy wants at first to punch Bege for Pekoms. He's still trying to make this alliance a friendship, and if he hits Bege then they will be even, so they can try becoming friends. That's basically the idea.

But he doesn't get to do that and in the end, Luffy agrees to alliance based on "common goal" or "allignment of interest". He did not become friends with Bege in the process and didn't make things even between them. This proves Luffy knows what an alliance is and it's not friendship. I wouldn't say this means Luffy finally learned what an actual alliance is (though it's tempting, ngl). I would rather say he always knew that, but he chose to make it a point that whatever he has with Law, is friendship firstmost, alliance second.

And here is Luffy listening to Bege's plan. He's trying, okay. Not his fault he's constantly getting distracted, sidetracked and overfocused on making a silly entrance party trick (jumping out of the wedding cake). Bege is just not Law, and Luffy's tiktok's level span of attention is struggling here, heh. Also please notice Luffy's unusual focus on the smooching lol.

Oh, so that's Luffy's idea for the wedding surprise. He just wanted to do ninja's shadow clonining trick, definitely inspired by Raizou's show in Zou.

Coincidentally, that's the technique that was Law's request and made Law so damn impressed. Yeah, this is for sure a coincidence, that Luffy chose to do it like that, even though he didn't really have to have multiple copies of himself here to make it work. I bet he just thought "if Law would be here, that would impress him, I'm sure!" and I bet he's looking forward to telling him all about this adventure later on and seeing his face.

But it was essenstial for his plan to create chaos! He didn't do it just for fun! Are you sure? Because it was Brook who hid himself in the midst and did the deed with Mother Carmel's photo frame, and Luffy did not tell him to do this. Luffy simply wanted to be cool, okay, he didn't think that far ahead. He was supposed to cause chaos, he delivered.

And in his fight with Katakuri, Luffy is the one who has to have faith. Law had his faith moment in Dressrosa, now it's Luffy's turn.

Luffy found his answer about what he can do and how to become a better person for someone. It's to master his observation haki. Which, coincidentally, is Law's forte.

Luffy's curious, very strict words to Jimbei. "Don't let even death stop you, we'll be waiting in Wano!" It's basically Luffy's own promise he made before leaving Zou, just said in more deadly serious manner. That's because his experience in Whole Cake Island made him realize it himself: he will go back to Wano and not even death can stop him from achieving that. Because he promised that to Law people.

I'm sure for Law this would be indeed the most important thing, not to lose anyone ever again, especially Luffy who he (miraculously) managed to save all the way back in Marineford. I don't know how Luffy knows this or if he knows at all about Law's deepest fear, but he's determined not to die on him, that's for sure.

This is also the first big seperation for Luffy and Law. Luffy deals with it, treating everything like an adventure to tell Law later so it feels like Law is there with him even though he's not. But also treats it like a challenge, to become a better and stronger person so he won't disappoint him.

Still convinced there was no Lawlu in WCI? Oh well, if that's the case then all I can say is: I tried my best :D

If anyone wants to read all the parts of this series without going to my masterpost, then just click "love is a hurricane" tag :3

#one piece #trafalgar law #luffy #lawlu #lulaw #luffy x law #zosan #just a bit because I couldn't refuse it #it was stronger than me #love is a hurricane #xxxholic #we're finally going to Wano from now on #my takes on Wano's Lawlu might be super crazy for you all #so I guess prepare for lots of surprises #so is “alliance means friendship” still so true to you Luffy? hehe #cooknumber3 you're right they're totally ghibli style of “love” striving to become the best versions of themselves for their ImportantPerso

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