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prompt-master · 4 years

Text

Whisked Away

Everyone was getting settled for bed at the moment. They hadn't managed to find a proper safe shelter, instead they found an overpass to sleep under. While the rest of the survivors were cleaning and setting up their shelter to be as safe and homely as possible, Byakuya was doing one last survey of their surroundings to make sure everyone would be safe. If an emergency broke out they could always try and get Syo out, but why even risk what can be avoided? Not only that but…

Makoto had been sick lately. It had started with a small fever that Kyoko theorized was just his exhaustion catching up to him. But even after being able to rest often the fever only grew. Her theory changed, now she thought that there was a possibility of infection from the dumpster that she'd missed in the heat of the moment. The logistics didn't matter much to Byakuya though, the damage had already been done and soon they had to carry a feverish and concussed Makoto wherever they went.

Byakuya a few weeks ago was still able to keep up the show that he wasn't bothered by the ailment, but now it was hard to keep his worry at bay. Not when Makoto's fever had started to cause him to be delirious.

Byakuya pulled himself from his thoughts, after seeing no sign of danger whatsoever he decided to bring himself back to their shelter. He'd managed to find some more food, and even a little manga he thought Hagakure would enjoy. At least his venture wasn't for nothing.

He stepped under the overpass, seeing everyone hunched over. That was strange. He was expecting them to be settling down by now. Then again, these commoners had quite possibly the strangest behavior he'd ever seen. Maybe this was how plebeians talked to each other.

He opted to ask a question that had been on his mind, "How is he?"

He expected the answer to be the same as always. "Not better". But instead he was greeted by Kyoko lifting her head and meeting his gaze with one of….

Pure worry.

Byakuya nearly stepped back at such an open display of emotion. "What's wrong?"

There was a pause. Now that he noticed everyone looked scared or worried. Yasuhiro was going through their supplies while a pot of water boiled over the fire.

"Answer me, dammit, what's the problem?"

"Naegi hasn't stopped throwing up."

What?

"What? What do you mean?"

"He-h-he can't hold anything down" Aoi sniffled, her shoulders were shaking in worry but he could tell she was trying to stay strong. "He's been throwing up the entire time you were g-gone…"

"But that would be…"

Toko was fidgeting badly, looking like she wanted to curl into a ball as her hands pulled and tugged harshly at every joint one by one, "h-h-h-he...h-he threw up w-water too…"

Byakuya felt cold.

"That can't be allowed right now!"

"We know Togamichi! But he can't keep ANYTHING down we've tried even just a few sips and nothing works!"

He allowed himself to pace inward to be a part of the group. So he could finally get a good view of everything. He could see Makoto lying propped up against a large chunk of broken car, and he looked...awful. His face was scrunched up, the ordeal of constant throwing up had made his stomach and body burn. His face was free of all color, making his fever stand out strong. He was trembling badly, so badly it looked like an unnatural jitter. Kyoko was kneeling in front of him with a hand on his face, trying to keep his head up. Every time she tried to pull her hand back his head wobbled forward or to the sides, unable to muster up the energy to do it himself. His breathing sounded almost wheezy from how out of breath he was. Each breath was sharp and thin.

"Naegi" Byakuya spoke before he could stop himself, "can you hear me?"

No response.

Kyoko shook her head, "I think all the sudden vomiting put a minor shock on his system. He's been in and out of an unresponsive state."

Shit.

"What do we do?"

The worry in her eyes was suffocating. Byakuya felt as though he was standing in a dry sauna, water bleeding out of the air and leaving nothing but cracked skin and an uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

"He needs to be hydrated." Byakuya found himself saying without really thinking.

Kyoko had a hand over Makoto's chest, feeling the racing pace it had taken. It felt like it could give out any second now. "We can't. He won't keep it down. If we had an IV maybe but…" Kyoko took a shaky deep breath, "we need to lower the fever."

Byakuya kneeled down by the two, now even closer he could see the lack of sweat on Makoto's face. Painfully dry. Painfully hot. "Take off his hoodie."

She nodded, beginning to pull the zipper. Byakuya put his hand to Makoto's neck. He wanted to hiss and pull away. That sort of heat….Makoto's brain had to be bubbling up crudely at such high temperatures. Soon all that would be left would be a charred black sludge. He could feel the rapid pace of his heart beat, without even trying to find his pulse point. Yet for all the speedy thumping it had there was hardly any pressure in the beats. His heart barely had anything to give.

"Naegi" he said, as Kyoko finished stripping off the rest of his hoodie. "Naegi you need to wake up right this instant."

Nothing. His mouth was slightly parted. And strangely enough his eyes seemed to be active behind his eyelids. Fluttering around irregularly. It...startled Byakuya in ways he didn't want to admit.

He heard a snotty sobbing cry, oh...that's right the others are. He had completely forgotten. Aoi's cries were choked, "i-is he going to die!?" she had said between hiccups, but no one had an answer for her. Or rather...they had their suspicions, but not the will to voice the possibility.

A strange burnt leathery material was placed onto Makoto's head. Wait...no...that was skin. The ruined hands of Kirigiri Kyoko. Byakuya looked up at her, hoping to ask with his eyes only. For Kyoko to take off her gloves so suddenly..

"My hands are always a low temperature" she said, her bottom lip wavered, "the damage is so bad that they are never a human temperature...I thought that maybe it would help…"

Makoto's eyes fluttered again. The whites of his eyes flickered between the eyelids until his pupils rolled down into the picture. The fluttering of his eyelids didn't stop, but now he seemed to be drifting his attention around. Byakuya's own heart was rabbit paced as he wondered if Makoto could even see anything.

Kyoko's voice cracked, "Is he responsive?"

Byakuya shifted the hand still cradled in the crook of Makoto's neck. He lifted his head up slightly, watching as Makoto went from staring behind him to staring directly at him.

"......n…..nmm…"

Makoto felt like someone was jamming a burning piece of metal into his stomach. The pain was so twisting and seering that he couldn’t even bear to cry. He could do nothing but experience the strange flashes of hot and cold, unable to move with the dried up pain inside of him. He may have not been able to move, but the pain in his stomach was well alive. It was a wiggling squirming thing that you could never get used to. It was like a worm that travelled too far into the street after rainfall. A lost and helpless little thing, rolling around until the soles of a shoe grinded down without a passing thought. No...that was too merciful. This pain was much slower, it was more like a worm caught by a fisherman. His stomach was a worm gutted for bait by a child, held at end to end and pulled until the center flesh tore. Hardly even usable after death, left down onto the table until brown sludge gushed from its slimy husk of a body with the slightest bit of pressure. How he wished he could cry.

Maybe if he could manage to fall back unconscious he wouldn’t have to feel the twisting of the fisherman’s knife tearing into him. Maybe if he closed his eyes he wouldn’t see her hands shaking over the hilt as he lay limp in the shower. He could never forget how she looked at him, her eyes an untold madness of fury and fear. He couldn't handle it, he had to pry his eyes away. He could barely see past the fluttering of his eyelids as he tried to look up at the sky. That dull red peeking behind blackened clouds. It was supposed to be a reminder of the world’s state, but looking at it right now it almost seemed like Heaven. It felt like someone could reach her hand out and whisk him away to a better world. It was the polar opposite to the complete suffering he couldn’t escape. Was all this pain he felt what she felt? Is that why this was happening to him? If he could bear the burden of her death...would he get to feel peace? And then...well then he would get to see all his friends again, right? That made sense. It had to make sense. The sky was so close, such a comforting red.

Makoto lifted his hand - how long had that been there? He’d completely forgotten - and tried to reach for Sayaka’s hand. For everyone’s hand. Instead of a warm embrace something rippled and cold wrapped around his palm. What was that? It held his hand with a gentle cradle, he could let his arm go loose and let it do the work for him. He trusted this strange embrace, but it wasn’t the one he’d expected.

“M’zno?” Why was the world made of spirals? He felt sick.

“...No Naegi, it’s not Maizono. It’s Kirigiri, do you remember where you are?”

“...Hi Kiri”

“Hello Naegi.”

“This is a waste of time, what good is this doing?”

“Shush, he’s barely even aware.”

“Indulging his delirium will not make his fever go down.”

“I know that.”

Byakuya crossed his arms as if that would somehow protect him from his uselessness. He refused to accept this. They couldn't just watch. They were no longer those same trapped students helpless to the horrors around them. They could do something now. He just...needed to figure out what.

“Hi T’gmi” his voice was cracked and soft from the lack of moisture. It must have been torture, not even being able to swallow anymore. Despite that, he still sounded happy to recognize one of his good friends.

“.....tch, Hello Naegi.”

He didn’t like how Kyoko looked. Holding his outstretched hand with a calm, solemn expression. Kneeling by his side without the rush of adrenaline all the other survivors had. It was the look of someone who had already given up.

“Do something.” Byakuya hissed. Kyoko didn’t move. “He needs help.”

“He needs comfort,” Kyoko whispered, “he needs rest,” Sayaka said.

Kyoko tried to lay Makoto down more comfortably, using his balled up hoodie as a makeshift pillow. She smoothed his hair out of his face. If she would lose him soon then at least she got to touch him with her bare hands before he went. He was still looking up at the sky, fingers just barely flexing like he was trying to take hold. She squeezed his hand, heart aching at how little he seemed to recognize.

“Kirigiri-”

“I just want to be by his side.” she said, “if he doesn't make it...I want to at least be there for him.”

“So you’re giving up.”

She rubbed her thumb in circles on the back on Makoto’s hand as he whimpered miserably, “No, but I don’t want him to be alone either.”

Byakuya turned to the others, barking out orders to search again for something - anything - that could help. Painkillers, fever reducers, survivors, cold clean water. He needed them to search every nook and cranny of this god forsaken world. His last moments spent with Makoto would not be like this.

Kyoko squeezed his hand again, “Naegi, if you can hear me, can you please squeeze back?”

It was weak...but the fingers curled up.

She smiled, “Good. You’re doing a great job. One squeeze for yes, two for no ok?”

One squeeze, he still looked at the sky. Sayaka watched him, but she said nothing. Why didn’t she look happy to see him?

“Are you in pain?”

One squeeze. That was exactly why he wanted Sayaka to whisk him away. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. He’d been dealing with the retribution of allowing her murder to happen this entire time, surely she would take him with her?

“Ask him if he can talk.”

Two squeezes. Sayaka didn’t look angry. She didn’t look scared. So why had she pulled her hand away, why was she looking at Kyoko instead? Why did she look so sad?

“Is this ok?” Kyoko asked, pressing a kiss to his hand. It wasn’t much, but he seemed more relaxed now. And any bit of comfort right now was worth the world to her. Byakuya came back and held Makoto’s other, dismissively staring at the ground. “...Does this really help?” he asked.

Makoto gave one squeeze to both questions. He felt exhausted through his pain, his energy seeping away with each and every breath. It was nice, he had to admit, to know that whether he died or not he wouldn't do it alone. He somehow felt safer, even when he was so unsure about his own fate. He would fall back into an unresponsive state soon, having to trust his friends to take care of them as well as they had been. Something about the way Sayaka looked at him made him feel the slightest glimmer of hope again. Maybe instead...maybe it would be Kyoko and Byakuya who would whisk him away.

#danganronpa #fanfic #makoto naegi #byakuya togami #kyoko kirigiri #naegirigami #naegamigiri #naegiri #whump #i&i #does this satisfy you heathens?#not sure if i should cross post this tbh i kinda hate it but then again i hate everything i write so.#if people want it on ao3 ill put it there #let me know if this needs more tags too #whisked away

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fox-steward · 4 years

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hi, not sure if this blog is active bc im on mobile but you seem v knowledgeable so i hope you are. i have a question if thats ok. ive been id'ing as ftm trans/nb for about 6 years now but havent rlly been able to come out to many ppl or transition at all so im still largely presenting as female. i wouldnt rlly call myself gender critical or anything like that, but i know transitioning is a long & difficult process and im wondering if there is a way to alleviate my dysphoria without going (1/2)

“thru all that. i dont want to transition only to realize that i dont feel better and there was an easier way. in other words, id like to rule out any possibility that im not trans before medically investing in being trans. any chance you have any advice for me? (2/2)”

hey there—still active, if sporadic.

when it comes to healing from dysphoria, there’s no cure-all, no hidden path to healing that you’ve simply yet to uncover. just as there’s no way to guarantee transition will make you happy, there’s no opposite guarantee either. i can only share some of the stuff that has worked for me and some of the hardships i uncovered about living as trans, which i hope you find helpful.

what helps me?

get clear with yourself about what you believe about gender, ideologically. i personally feel, if my beliefs do not stand up to critical thought, if they cannot be supported by rational arguments, then those beliefs are not worth holding on to and i need to let them go. this is what happened to me WRT transness, gender, and all that.

start small—what is gender? is gender innate? do we have gendered souls? how could we have gendered souls if gender is a social construct? okay, so we can’t have gendered souls, so what is gender, if not innate? is gender the social expectations and norms attached to the two sexes? is it possible to break those roles and expectations? does breaking those roles and expectations change anyone’s sex? no—males can behave in typically feminine ways and females in typically masculine ways and that does nothing to change their sex. so what would conceivably make someone (or myself) trans? inhabiting the social roles and expectations of the gender associated with the opposite sex. since we already established that gender isn’t innate and we don’t have gendered souls, there’s no merit in the “born in the wrong body” narrative; it is not possible to be born in the wrong body. we each get one body, no matter how we change it. but if i wasn’t born in the wrong body, why do i feel so uncomfortable with mine, especially with the sexed aspects of it? if you’re female, the likely culprit is misogyny. you don’t actually have to hate women on a conscious level to be suffering from internalized misogyny. we live in a misogynistic world, it saturates everything. if you’re female, it affects almost every factor of how you move through this world—how people treat you, what opportunities you’re given, which behaviors are encouraged for you and which are discouraged, etc. if you are inclined to prefer masculinity—for whatever reason—society will encourage this in males and discourage it in females. having your way of being subtly discouraged all the time can easily lead to feeling disconnected from your body, perhaps even hating it, especially since you know that your way of being would be ENCOURAGED if only your body were male. and that’s when many of us encounter trans ideology that tells us we CAN be male—in fact, we actually were all along! all we have to do is change our bodies drastically with lifelong medication and surgery, all we have to do is trade money and time and health to convincingly imitate the opposite sex—THEN society will finally recognize that our way of being is okay—because we were actually masculine MEN all along, it was simply our female bodies obscuring that. does this feel like a good or healthy trade to you? it doesn’t to me, but i can’t make these decisions for you.

there IS an important caveat, a shortcut that bypasses this bad trade entirely—and that’s realizing that your way of being is ALREADY okay. masculine females and feminine males are healthy and good. it’s not always easy to comfortably BE that way in a society that does not embrace masculinity in women and femininity in men, but the solution is not to change your self, it’s to change the society. and the only way you can do that is by carving out that path—BE a masculine female/woman and you’ll show little girls today that there’s a place for them in this world.

i did try out the trade for myself, however, and i learned a few things you might find useful—maybe these lessons i learned can save you the time and money and pain i’ve already spent.

1) you never actually change sex. you’re always chasing the aesthetic imitation of the opposite sex with transition, but never becoming the opposite sex. in this and so many other ways, transition never ends.

2) passing is conditional. when your sense of self is predicated upon others seeing you a certain way, it can be taken from you in a second. i could be treated like one of the guys for a year, until one of them finds out i was born female. now that he knows, he cannot unknow. now my experience is tied to how he sees me—does he see me as a woman now that he knows? is he comfortable with me in the locker room? it was stressful and uncomfortable for others to have this level of control over my experience of the world and of myself. it’s also out of my control whether he decides to lend manhood to me now—will he use male pronouns with me? will he call me a woman? will he out me to the others? will he sexualize me or sexually assault me based on my female body?

3) as stated above, transition never ends. no matter how well you pass, transition always requires maintenance. you’ll need bloodwork as long as you’re on hormones—that’s time and money you wouldn’t have otherwise spent. you’ll need supplies for your hormone shots—time and money you wouldn’t have spent. there will be instances where you need to disclose your trans status, thus repeating the coming out process infinitely—doctors or EMTs, new intimate partners, friends. this process is exhausting and othering, it’s an ever-present reminder of the fact that you’re trans.

4) medical transition is expensive in terms of money and heath. taking hormones is always a risk. there’s potential for: cardiovascular risk associated with testosterone, vaginal atrophy and sexual side effects, changes to mood (some for the better, some worse), not liking how hormones change your body. then there’s the financial aspect. in the USA at least, this costs money—money for doctor’s visits, money for the hormones themselves, money for the supplies to administer them. there’s risk in any surgery—risk of death or serious complication, loss of function and sensation, improper healing, chronic pain. and of course, the monetary cost associated with surgery. removing the uterus can have lifelong consequences—early onset dimentia, lifelong need for synthetic hormones, osteoporosis.

5) there is no “actually trans.” there’s no meaningful distinction between “true trans” people and others. trans people transition and identify as trans. their dysphoria isn’t any different than mine was. there’s no method for parsing “real dysphoria” from something else. transness is an ideology. i liken it to religion. there are no “real christians” and fake christians, there are only people who believe and those who don’t. that’s the salient difference between myself (detransitioner) and trans people—belief. and if something requires me to believe in it to be real...well that’s a good indication it probably isn’t.

good luck out there. these are heavy questions and weighty struggles. there’s no harm in focusing on other aspects of your life when you’re having trouble answering Big Gender Questions. rooting for you.

#detrans #detransition #radfem #radical feminism #transgender #ftm #non binary #just talkin #gender #asked #answered #anon

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kinkykinard · 5 years

Text

Doctoring December - Day 27

For @shewolf-2013.

Fandom: MCU. Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader. Prompt: Surgery. Word Count: 1440. Rating: 13+. Warning(s): mentions of needles, surgery.

You make a small noise of frustration as you drop the two ties at the back of your neck, giving up on getting your gown secured. You’re too exhausted and anxious for any kind of dexterity, and you know they’ll just end up untying the gown when they bring you down for surgery anyway. Resigned, you turn to move toward the bed, stopping when a hand comes to rest on your shoulder. You reach up, running your fingers over the back of the hand, recognizing it immediately.

“Allow me,” Stephen says softly, reaching up to easily tie your gown for you.

With the neck tie done, he moves lower and ties the waist tie as well, securing the garment in place for you. You turn around as he finishes up, leaning into his chest, still trembling a little as he embraces you.

“Are you nervous, sweetheart?” He asks, his hands gently stroking along your back, keeping you close.

You nod against his chest, closing your eyes tightly and trying to focus on his touch rather than on the anxiety that’s building inside of you as your surgery looms nearer. You know it’s minor and routine, but it’s your first one and you have no idea what to expect. Even though Stephen has explained every step of the process to you in great detail, it all means very little without context.

“Just hang in there a little longer,” Stephen says softly. “Once we get you down to pre-op, your anaesthesiologist can give you something to help you relax.”

You nod again, turning your head a little so your cheek is pressed to his chest. You can hear his heartbeat beneath your ear, slow and steady, and you take comfort in the sound until a nurse enters your room to carry on with preoperative preparations. You pull away reluctantly as she asks you to get into bed, but Stephen stays nearby, tucking a blanket up around your waist as the nurse starts wrapping a blood pressure cuff around your arm.

“Let’s get a quick set of vitals and then I’ll start your IV,” the nurse says brightly. “We’ll have you ready to go in no time,”

You smile faintly, resting your head back against the raised head of the bed as she activates the monitor overhead. You turn to look at Stephen as the cuff around your arm tightens, relaxing a little as he reaches out to cup your cheek. He holds your gaze, doing a good job of distracting you as the monitor does its thing. He keeps his hand still for as long as it takes to check your vitals, only pulling away to take a medication cup and a paper cup of water from the nurse.

“Here, let’s sit you up for a minute, you need to take these,” he instructs. “They’re to help with any nausea you might have from the medications you get in the OR.”

You push yourself up a couple of inches, reaching for the cups he’s holding out. You tip the tablets from the medicine cup into your mouth and chase them with a few sips of water, handing the cups back to Stephen and sitting back again. He sets the cups aside, perching on a stool next to your bed and taking your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as the nurse sets up to start an IV.

You spend the entire time she’s working with your eyes squeezed shut, clinging to Stephen’s hand. He rubs his thumb across the back of your hand, murmuring reassurances. It’s all over pretty quickly, and you feel your heart start to pound in your chest as you begin to feel trapped, tethered to your bed by the IV.

“This is really happening, isn’t it?” You say quietly, your voice tremulous.

Stephen leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“It’ll be over in no time and you’re going to be just fine. You’re in good hands.”

You nod, feeling tears prickle at the corners of your eyes.

“I wish it was you,” you whisper.

Stephen smiles, giving your hand another squeeze as an orderly enters the room and moves to wheel you toward the elevator.

“I’m glad it’s not,” Stephen says. “I would never want you to need my skills, and this way I can be right there beside you when you fall asleep and when you wake up.”

You take a slow, deep breath, attempting to slow your heart rate a little as you’re wheeled into the elevator with Stephen at your side. You’re grateful for his presence and his reassurance, but it’s not enough to banish your anxiety all together.

The ride down to pre-op is far too short and you can feel your chest constricting uncomfortably as your bed is parked in a small, curtained-off room just outside the doors to the operating room. You can hear the sounds of patients being prepped all around you: monitors beeping steadily, the low murmur of conversation, the high-pitched whine of IV pumps signalling air bubbles in the tubing. The sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears nearly drowns everything else out, though, and you continue trying to breathe.

“Hang in there, sweetheart,” Stephen coaches gently, resting a hand on your shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Keep breathing, you’re doing great.”

Stephen’s touch and gentle encouragement helps keep you sane as you wait for the anaesthesiologist. He arrives fairly shortly afterward and you’re relieved at the warmth and kindness he radiates. You answer his questions obediently and take a few deep, shaky breaths as he disappears again, promising you some relief in just a few minutes. You glance up at Stephen as you wait.

“Is it too late to change my mind and reschedule?” You ask, only half kidding.

“You’ve come this far already,” he reasons softly. “Just a little bit longer and it’ll all be behind you. You wouldn’t want to have to go through this all again. And besides, you’re the strongest person I know.”

You feel your face heat at his words, shaking your head.

“I’m not, but thanks anyway,” you murmur.

The anaesthesiologist reappears then, a few syringes filled with varying amounts of clear liquids in his hand. He explains what each one is for as he injects them into your IV line one by one, but you hardly care, so long as you start to feel better soon.

As he injects the last of the medications, a warm, fuzzy feeling settles over you and your head spins a little bit. You drop it back against the head of the bed, closing your eyes as the room whirls around you. Stephen chuckles at your side.

“How do you feel?” He asks.

“Better,” you say, slurring your words a little and feeling somewhat drunk. “That’s good stuff.”

“It sure is,” Stephen agrees. “And there’s plenty more where that came from if you need it after surgery.”

You nod, fighting the draw of sleep that suddenly washes over you. You’re so pleasantly floaty that you hardly even notice when the bed starts moving again and you’re wheeled into the operating room. You slowly open your eyes and squint as the bright light overhead nearly blinds you. There are a half dozen people in the room besides yourself and Stephen, all rushing around and preparing instruments, calibrating monitors, and getting ready for your procedure. In spite of the meds, you feel your heart thump uneasily in your chest and you grope around for Stephen’s hand.

“You’ve got this,” he says with a smile as a nurse slides an oxygen mask over your face.

Two or three sets of hands work around you, attaching monitor leads to your chest, checking your IV line, and tucking blankets in around you to ward off the ambient chill in the room. A nurse overhead tells you to take slow, deep breaths through the mask. You keep your gaze on Stephen, making a face at the rubbery scent of the seal around the edges of the mask.

“They’re going to sedate you in just a moment,” Stephen explains. “Just relax and count backwards from a hundred.”

You do as he says, starting at the top and slowly working your way back. Three or four numbers in, you feel a flare of pain in your arm radiating out from your IV site and taste something vaguely metallic. Your eyes start to flutter shut of their own accord and all of the sounds in the room fade into the background in slow motion. The last thing you hear is Stephen’s voice.

“See you on the other side, sweetheart.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Doctoring December Masterlist

#Doctoring December 2.0 #MCU #Stephen Strange #reader insert #fanfiction #Stephen Strange x Reader

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portgas-d-ace-of-hearts · 4 years

Text

Take Me Down (To Paradise) Chapter Three

Chapter Summary: In which there is a small bit of hurt/comfort because Ace hates himself, a lot of kisses, and Whitebeard not being at all surprised by his sons.

As much as her two soulmates were strangers, as bizarre as their situation was and as much as she really did wish to know them more, she also felt a longing to join them where they cuddled on the floor, bury her hands in their soft hair and press her face into each of their necks. She fidgeted, trying to get comfortable and eventually falling into an uneasy sleep.

Surely things would work out with their captain.

Surely .

…

Nym woke with a start, staring around blearily and unsure of what woke her until the knock came at the door again. Her eyes popped open then, and she found herself having flipped over onto her stomach during the night, head turned out toward the room and arm dangling over the edge of the bed, inches away from Ace’s chest. Somehow in the night he and Marco had shifted to be right next to the bed, and Nym had shifted to hanging half-on and half-off of it. Only a few inches separated them from each other.

Ace and Marco had woken up as well, neither looking too worse for wear despite the no-doubt uncomfortable accommodations. The two men sat up at once, yawning and stretching. Marco put a finger to his lips to signal quiet as he got up and shuffled to the door.

“What is it?” he called through the wood.

A muffled reply came immediately. “Have you seen that extra barrel of rum?”

“No, ask Thatch.”

“‘Ight then!”

Footsteps shuffled away from them. Nym waited several minutes to speak. “Is it close to morning?” The lack of light underneath the door was not promising.

Ace ran a hand through his wavy black hair, several shades lighter than Nym’s pure ebony locs. “No idea. Too fucking early to be woken up, that’s for damn sure”

Marco made a grumbling noise as he returned to Ace’s side. “Seconding that notion.”

Nym had had enough. “I know you two want to be gentlemen or what have you,” she started. “But watching you sleep on the floor is making me ache. I could swear I have three new bruises just from looking at you. Come to bed? There’s enough room for all of us in this thing.”

It was true. Their bed was rather large and spacious, and for good reason. While most of their cremates shared a room with four others out of necessity for space, Marco and Ace shared a room of their own because they were bonded. They’d outfitted their room with a larger bed, since they didn’t have to worry about taking up too much space for their roommates.

Reluctant though they were to intrude on her personal space, they finally gave in to her request. Nym crawled toward the far side of the bed near the wall and settled in there, finding it far easier to relax into the tentative embrace of Ace, who shuffled closer hesitantly and wrapped his arms around her, than she would if they hadn’t found out they were soulmates and activated their marks. Marco wrapped his arm around Ace’s waist, his hand ultimately resting on Nym’s side as well. After that, sleep came without any difficulty, and Nym woke up for the second time much later, this time a natural occurrence. A pale dove gray light seeped under the door, signaling dawn.

As soon as Nym stirred, Ace and Marco began to wake, the former stretching with his eyes closed. “Is it dawn already?”

Marco, meanwhile, lay staring up at the ceiling. “Seems like it.”

“Guess I better go talk to Pops, then. You coming?”

“Yes. For all I know you’ll just try to kill him again and get tossed into the sea and drown.”

For all that he said the words teasingly, Nym still gave them a strange look, leaning back against the wall and wondering just what sort of odd relationship they had with Whitebeard. “What the hell does that mean?”

Seeing her trying to make sense of it, Marco chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, just that Ace here tried to kill our captain about a hundred times his first week here.”

Ace scowled, the weight of the expression undermined by his bedhead. “Don’t start, Marco.”

Nym giggled. “Don’t take this personally, but you look like a grumpy puppy right now.”

Marco laughed with her. “She’s right you know.”

“Both of my soulmates are assholes,” Ace muttered as he clambered from between them to get ready for the day. He cleaned his face and hands at the vanity and donned his usual accessories of hat, necklace, and dagger.

Marco got up to ready himself as well. “I don’t know if she is, but you’re certainly an asshole—our asshole.”

Ace flipped him off without looking as he danced around to get into his shoes, a sort of flats this time.

“Classy,” Marco teased.

Nym watched their easy interaction with longing, wanting to fit into the scene. “How long have you two had together, then?”

“About three months.” Ace raked his fingers through his hair in an attempt to look less like he’d just rolled out of bed. “You ready, Marco?”

“Keep your shirt on, I’m coming.” Marco grabbed his sandals.

“We’ll be back soon,” Ace told her at the door. “You might want to latch this.”

Without another word, he slipped out into the weak pre-dawn light. Marco followed him with a wave toward where she sat on the bed. “Be back soon.”

The door closed behind them. Nym stared at it for several long moments before actually getting up to secure the latch. She turned a curious eye toward the shelves. At least she’d have a way to occupy herself for the time being.

.

Marco stuck his head into the room. “Pops? You awake?”

Whitebeard leaned against the headboard of his bed, hooked up to various monitors, IVs and supportive devices. The team of nurses fluttered about him constantly, checking his vitals and making him comfortable. He had an enormous gourd of sake in one hand, and was in the middle of drinking. He lowered it and sighed contentedly. “Nothing like sake to hit the spot, eh, son?”

When he saw Marco’s face pinched with worry, and Ace’s anxious one over his shoulder, he sat forward, immediately alert. “What’s troubling you two?” The carefree tone had been replaced by a no-nonsense one full of concern.

Marco and Ace stepped fully into the room and came to stand by the end of the bed.

“Out with it,” the old pirate urged them when neither immediately spoke.

Marco cleared his throat, holding out both arms to the man he’d come to see as his father. “Pops… we found our soulmate.”

“You found your—” he peered at Marco’s wrists, eyeing the new soulmark critically.

“Ace,” Marco urged.

Ace extended his arms next to Marco’s. It was clear from their marks that not only did they match each other, they matched someone else who in all likelihood matched both of them.

Ace looked him unflinchingly in the eye. “We want her to stay, Old Man.”

Whitebeard sat back and took a generous pull of sake. “Oh, is that all?”

Ace stared at him in disbelief. “What do you mean ‘is that all’? We know how you feel about admitting women into the crew.” Marco laid a hand, both of comfort and warning, on his arm.

Whitebeard motioned casually. “You came in here as if someone had died. Now I know I don’t have to worry. It’s just about a soulmate. Of course she can stay, though not as a combatant, of course. What kind of heartless bastard do you think I am? I’d never separate a bonded set, and I don’t want to cause harm to my sons.”

Ace and Marco exchanged a glance. Marco returned his attention to Whitebeard. “So we have your blessing to bring her onboard the ship?”

Whitebeard flashed his teeth at them, clearly amused about something. “Are you telling me you don’t have her here already?”

When they shifted awkwardly, he threw his head back and guffawed. “I know my sons,” he told them eventually, when he could calm himself. “She’s probably waiting for you in your room right now. You probably brought her back as soon as you met.”

Ace blushed a shade he didn’t know he was capable of becoming, while Marco wore his relief on his face.

“Thanks, Pops. Come on, Ace, Nym’s waiting on us.”

Whitebeard hummed curiously. “Nym is it?”

Ace ducked his head as he turned to follow Marco. “Yeah. It’s short for Nymphadora, but don’t tell her I told you. She hates her full name.”

“Well, give her my welcome.” A nurse moved in with water for him to drink, then, and as Ace and Marco left they could hear him arguing with her over the health benefits of a gallon of sake.

Marco reached for Ace’s hand. “That went well.”

Ace’s shoulders were still slightly tensed. “Part of me was so worried he’d say no.”

“I know, and he could have, but, she’s here as our soulmate, not to audition to be a proper member of the crew.”

Ace glanced at Marco cautiously. “Is it usual for him to agree to something so easily?” Marco had travelled with Whitebeard for years and knew his nature far better than Ace.

His soulmate mulled that over as they passed by a few early morning risers—and a few stragglers just getting back in at the crack of dawn—on their return trip. “Not necessarily. If his mind is set on something from the beginning, or once he’s made up his mind about something, he’s not one to delay.”

They made a pit stop at the kitchens for a few snacks and a small cask of ale to share, then carried the lot back to their room. “Nym? Nym, open up, it's me and Marco.”

There was a bit of shuffling inside, then the latch slid free and a single violet eye was visible peering at them through the gap between door and frame. “What did he say?” Nym pressed as she opened the door wide and stepped to the side.

Ace set his cargo down on his desk. “He said you can stay.”

“Really?” Nym fairly bounced on the balls of her feet.

“Really,” Marco echoed, depositing his half of the haul next to Ace’s.

She threw her arms around both of them, pulling them in for a hug. “That’s great news.”

Ace found himself blushing again and growing uncomfortably warm. “Yeah, it is,” he muttered lamely. He’d never felt shy before in his life—well, excluding his initial dancing around Marco when he had no idea how to react to a soulmate. “Listen, I don’t know how to say this, but if you’d like we can find somewhere else for you to sleep until you’re comfortable with—”

Nym grabbed each of their hands. “I do want to get to know you, but if someone doesn’t kiss me soon I think I might bloody well die.”

Oh. Right.He’d already had Marco in his life for a few months and they rarely left each other’s sides, so the desire to touch him was less an incessant, raging inferno and more of a gentle hearth fire. Nym had been largely touch-starved of both of them since they met. A smirk bloomed on his face as he stood next to his two soulmates, inordinately pleased with himself. He knew logically that it was nothing he’d done, but still felt a sense of satisfaction. Soulmate bond aside, it felt rather nice to have someone wanting to kiss him that badly, and how could he deny her?

“I’d be happy to oblige.” He reached out to trace lightly over her lips with his thumb, then leaned in for the kiss. One of her hands delved into his hair, and before he knew it they were melting together. Kissing his soulmate—either of them—was bubbles and pop rocks in his veins, something bright that sparked without sparking. It was an exquisite burn of champagne and fireworks that ended far too quickly for his liking. Her mouth still tasted of sake, and all Ace wanted to do as they separated was to hold her close and listen to her heartbeat.

From her dazed expression, she’d felt a similar sensation. Her hand rose shakily to her lips, which parted slightly in surprise. “So that’s what—that’s what it’s like. Kissing your soulmate, I mean. I’d heard about it, but I never thought it would be quite like that!”

Ace’s smirk deepened. “There’s more where that came from, babe.”

“My turn,” Marco cut in then, swooping in for his own kiss.

It was interesting to watch from the outside, to observe two soulmates meld and mesh, somehow fitting together oh-so-perfectly. As soon as their kiss ended Ace tugged Marco into his arms to steal his own kiss from him. Nym joined them, peppering kisses along Ace’s chest that would surely destroy him. He felt his skin heating up as his fire danced underneath it. Gasping, he had to break away from them. “Stop, stop.” He gently put a bit of distance between himself and Nym.

Her fingers lightly touched his cheek. “What, what’s wrong?”

Ace was nearly trembling. “If we want to pace ourselves then we need to stop now while we’re ahead.”

Understanding lit her gaze. “How long did you two wait?” She bit her lip as she looked between them. Marco needed a moment to compose himself, his eyes smoldering.

“A week.”

“An entire week?”

“Not for lack of wanting to.” Marco jabbed a thumb in Ace’s direction. “ This one was too busy trying to kill Pops for most of that time. It was hard to get a word in edgewise.”

Nym burst out laughing, much to Ace’s chagrin. “You’d try to kill someone too if they flattened and disbanded your entire crew!”

“I’m sure.” She grinned at him, eyeing him from head to toe.

As much as he already liked her, he found it unsettling how much she could make him blush. He thought that was something he’d outgrown after his and Marco’s first month and a half together.

Nym crossed her legs, drawing both of their eyes to her thighs. “Why do you want to wait so long anyway?”

If he were honest with her, part of it was his own means of waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to realize that she didn’t need someone like him as a soulmate and to leave. She wasn’t a pirate like he and Marco were, hadn’t dreamt of it like he and Luffy had. It wasn’t her life. That, and she probably hadn’t signed up for Gol D Roger’s hellspawn. He still didn’t feel as if he deserved the goodness Marco brought into his life, let alone what a second soulmate would do, and she seemed so much more delicate, somehow, more innocent. He didn’t want to be the point of her corruption, and he couldn’t ask her to become an outcast for him, for either of them, without some serious consideration first. They could always swing back into port and drop her off in a few days. No harm done.

Ace felt Marco’s eyes on him and knew that his first soulmate had an inkling of the thoughts running through his mind and disapproved. He’d been trying so hard to burn through Ace’s self-loathing, but it was a gargantuan task for anyone, even a soulmate. “To make sure that this is what you want,” he eventually managed, his tone neutral.

Nym rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head on his chest. “We’re soulmates, and I want you. Come what may, you’re stuck with me. It’s not as if I wasn’t already drifting from place to place before.”

Ace didn’t mean to speak so sharply. “But you weren’t considered a criminal, were you? An outcast? If you stay by our side—”

“Ace.” Marco’s gentle but firm voice brooked no argument. Ace reluctantly took his eyes off of Nym’s face to look into his. “I know what you’re trying to do. You did almost the same thing with me. Don’t push her away because you’re afraid to be happy.”

Ace scowled, caught out, and looked away from both of them. His jaw clenched. “I just wanted to make sure you both had an out. Just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean we have to be together. You could always find something—someone—better.”

Marco yanked him into his arms, tilted his head up and rained kisses onto his face. “You’re our soulmate. You’re what’s better.”

He squirmed when he felt Nym’s arms wrap around them and her face press into the crook of his neck, his body at just the right level with Marco tilting him in his arms for kisses. “I don’t know what your deal is yet, Ace, but just shut the hell up and accept that you’re not meant to be alone.”

Ace wanted to argue his point more, but half of his heart and mind weren’t in it with both soulmates touching him. They were piercing through his resolve with every kiss.

Marco smiled as he delivered a final kiss to Ace’s chin. “I like her already.”

Ace couldn’t form another frown after the barrage of affection. He grumbled half-heartedly but relaxed. Nym’s breath tickled his ear as she spoke. “I like both of you already, too.” She littered a trail of kisses from behind his ear to his collarbone. If not for her and Marco holding him up, he felt as if he might have melted down like a wax candle.

“Well.” Ace found it in himself to smile. “That might just be the biggest mistake of your life.”

...

End Notes:

I'll make any smut a separate chapter on its own so those who came here just for the fluffy idiocy don't have to deal with it. I'll leave the warning in the summary or beginning notes.

#marco phoenix #portgas d. ace #portgas d ace #one piece fic #ace one piece #one piece anime #one piece manga #soulmate au #soulmate identifying marks #soulmate tattoo au

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spirit-of-the-void · 6 years

Text

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 11

Author’s notes: Thank you all for your long and support, im so sorry for the delay ive been having problems with my internet all night...its the worst, but im chugging on... Do you guys hear music? <3

Chapter 11

Upon waking, you were a cacophony of emotions.

One? Regret. Drinking had left you feeling a bit miserable when you started blinking awake. You put a hand to your head, grunting softly at a pretty gnarly headache that rose to meet you. Well, that was one lesson learned--drinking was definitely not the best idea you ever had, but that was beside the point. Onto the second emotion, which was definitely connected to the slow realization that arms were wrapped around you. Breath in your hair, legs half resting on yours, body to body. Spooning. Your face flushed, entire being immediately recognizing the lanky form lightly hugging yours. V. He was sharing the bed with you, holding you in what could only equate to a tender embrace.

Suddenly that headache bothered you a thousand times less.

You were so torn. On one hand, you were loving the close contact. He was so warm, so welcome. The sound of his gentle breathing and his soft skin touching yours was making your head spin a bit. On the other hand, it made you wonder just how out of hand the drinking had got last night--you hoped to god you hadn’t done anything super uncomfortable to the poet to cause this. Your memories were vague, fuzzy. You remembered a lot of giggling, a lot of crying, V’s hands touching your face. Christ, you hoped Griffon kept you from forcing a kiss on him.

Speaking of the bird, he was curled up by your heads again, snoring lightly. Shadow was lounging by your feet, cracking one eye open to lazily stare at you. This bed was queen sized, definitely big enough to fit you, V, and all the familiars. Minus nightmare, who was still in V’s hair. You took a deep breath, relaxing in the poet’s arms a bit as you thought over how to get up without waking him. It looked like no one else was up yet, luckily. You were sure you wouldn’t hear the end of it from Nico and Lady if they saw you spooning with the sandal-wearing goth. Not that you minded--you would happily do this with him again, at a later date.

You closed your eyes again, counting his breaths. Your power was definitely back, so you snuck him some energy before he woke up and scolded you. You wanted him to get up feeling refreshed and healthy, despite the hangover you were rocking. Still, you had to admit waking up like this was pretty distracting for you in the pain department. And you had worse pain the previous day, a little headache was nothing. As for Lady, or worse Nico...They wouldn’t be having a good morning, not at all. You would do your best for them too.

As you mused, you felt the poet behind you stir a bit, letting out a light sigh. You slowed your breathing, not wanting to get up yet. Mind you, there was a lot to do and time to recover from the missed day, but...The peace felt nice. Being with him felt nice--Griffon was right, you had it bad. It was the fourth day, and you already felt comfortable enough sharing a bed with the man, craved it. You didn’t want to know what sleeping alone felt like again, and that was definitely a sign that you were absolutely in over your head.

Regardless, you felt V disentangle himself from you, much to your heavy disappointment. You fought a sigh, ready to bring yourself out of your own resting position when something the poet did stopped you. You felt him sit up and pause, letting out a slow sigh into the quiet air. Then, his hand was there, stroking your wavy locks. Softly, tenderly. Delight and surprise filled you, body resisting the urge to jolt the instant he touched you. This morning was just full of surprises it would seem, full of peaceful things that you once took for granted. Never again.

You let him continue for a few seconds, waiting for the right moment to slowly blink open your eyes. He paused for a moment when you did, but still rested his hand on your head as you yawned and rubbed your aching face. Christ, reality was so strange at that moment.

“Well well,” V said in that low purr, wearing his familiar half- smirk when you turned to look at him, “Look who’s finally awake.”

You gave a small smile back, pulling yourself up and hating how your ears rang. You put your hands to your head, letting out a low groan of, “Oww..”

“Ahh, and there it is,” V chuckled, stroking a hand over your aching head, “The culmination of last night’s activities.”

You winced, lifting your gaze again to meet his bemused one. Damn him for waking up looking perfect and wonderful, despite the fact that you definitely helped with that.

“Laugh it up,” You huffed, eyes narrowing on him as you lowered your hands, “But you’re the one who gets to travel with my cranky ass.”

He let out a low chuckle, the way his eyes sparkled with mirth making your heart speed up. He stroked your head once more, making your eyes close a bit before he slid out of the bed. Shadow was blinking awake at your feet, yawning in a great display of mighty jaws and teeth. Absolutely adorable. Griffon was pulling himself up to, letting out a low, bird-like trill as he shook out his feathers. You smiled, pleased that no one seemed worse for wear after the fuzzy night of drinking. You, too, felt like yourself. No lingering bad feelings, no nightmares today.

“Don’t you fuckers know how to sleep in?” Griffon muttered, gold eyes meeting yours. He squinted, probably noticing your good mood, all things considered. He let out a low, evil chortle, hopping closer as he hissed, “Well now, don’t you look cheerful, girlie. How did being little spoon feel? Bet you loved being held in the Poet’s big, strong arms.”

You shrugged, a bemused look in your eyes as you contemplated arguing his words. But there wasn’t really any point.

“Yep,” You replied, picking him up to deposit him on your shoulders while you slid out of bed, “Though my head is killing me.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Griffon said sarcastically, eyeing the empty bottles still on the table as you stood, “Though I gotta say, I admire your honesty, toots.”

You chuckled, giving Shadow a pat on the head as the mighty cat hopped down from the mattress, extending in a luxurious stretch of their front paws. You did the same, only pulling your arms over your head once Griffon flew over to V, dressing himself in the dining room. It occurred to you that you had slept in the arms of a shirtless man all night, which was definitely a plus. One you weren’t going to think about. But you did think about how you felt considerably closer to the poet now. And that pleased you, absolutely tickled pink.

You settled on sitting on the dining room table, summoning a banana to eat while V situated himself. Only once he was done getting dressed did you toss one at him too, enjoying the face he made when the fruit registered in his palm.

“Back to the food I see,” He hummed, eyeing you with a bit of concern, “Are you...sure you’re alright?”

The question made your chest squeeze. It finally occurred to you the events of the previous night, of everything that had happened. You realized that you had no idea how V reacted to it all. What had happened after you passed out? You assumed it was the poet who found you on the bathroom floor, who sent Griffon to find the others. There was a hint of tired worry in his eyes, that concern definitely rooted in something terrible. You felt...awful. You hated the idea that your actions had caused him to be hurt, hated that you put him through a bad experience. Somehow the sensation of his ache was worse than the pain you went through.

You smiled softly, cheerful despite the squeezing of your heart.

“I’m okay,” You promised, crossing your legs on the table, “Promise. No lies this time.”

He let out a slow breath, tapping his cane on the ground and eyeing you with that smoldering look of his.

“I believe you,” He murmured, eyeing the banana you gave him with a wry smirk, “If only you were so honest with your fetishes.”

You snorted a laugh, grinning as you finished off your own food, “You can’t handle my fetishes, pretty boy. Don’t ask about what you don’t want the answers to.”

“Ahh,” V slid his gaze over you, half sitting on the table and crossing his long legs, “Curiosity did kill the cat, but satisfaction will bring me back.”

The way he said “satisfaction” kind of made your toes curl.

“Satisfaction is a luxury,” Your voice was steadier than your felt, heart pounding away with that stupid excitement as you let out a light hum, “So I have to make you work for it, don’t I?”

He smiled again, and that smile had implications. The whole conversation felt...different. Charged with energy, border-lining on sexy and playful. Flirting. You were flirting with him. As he tasked himself with carefully eating the banana you gave him, your mind raced. Something was definitely different between the two of you, as if the previous night’s events had left you both stepping over a line at the same time. You knew you had made up your mind to be more honest with your feelings. But V...seemed to be a little riskier too, which was both a relief and a curse. A relief, because you wanted to be closer to him. A curse, because it was making you as giddy as a teenage girl with your first crush.

Griffon was not immune to the sensation. He landed on your shoulder, letting out a low, pleased chortle as his beak snapped near your ear. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes held every unsaid jibe.

The distinct sound of Lady rising from the couch followed, both you and Griffon turning to see the lovely woman slowly sitting up. Her hair was a bit tussled, a groan leaving her as soon as she was no longer horizontal. You could sympathize--you weren’t feeling your best after the alcoholic frenzy. Though you knew you had it easier, you could recover with some food and fresh air. The normal humans would not. The woman in question turned to blink at you and the poet blearily, hand rubbing her temple as she registered back with reality.

You smiled, giving a small wave of your hand, “Good morning, Lady.”

She grunted, rising to her feet and stretching.

“‘Morning,” She murmured in reply, face scrunched up in obvious discomfort as she took a few steps closer to you, “Not so good. Christ, my head.”

“I’m so sorry,” You replied in sympathy, smiling as you extended some tendrils over to her to wrap around her wrist. She blinked in surprise when you did so, eyeing them with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. It occurred to you that she still hadn’t seen them yet, only knowing you for a day now, “Here, let me help a bit. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

You whispered that familiar line, sending a small jolt of energy into the woman and enjoying how her expression shifted to awe. You didn’t give too much, not wanting to risk wasting much needed energy very early in the day. Still, it would relieve some of the throbbing headache the woman was surely feeling, and that was better than nothing. You could feel V watching you, finishing off his food much to your contentment. He had learned that arguing with you on the food issue was definitely pointless, you would not be swayed. He was a bean pole, and you were determined to help him in any way you could.

“Wow,” Lady said simply, drawing your attention back to her, “That felt...wild. I do feel better.”

You smiled, “I’m glad. Still, try to take it easy today, if you can.”

“That goes double for you, toots!” Griffon squawked at your words, snapping his beak by your ear and making you wince, “Practice what you preach…! No exerting today, no fancy invocations…!”

You sighed, not wanting to argue, especially not when V looked like he was in complete agreement with the bird.

“Yes sir.”

Clanging followed from the garage, followed by the door opening and Nero sticking his head inside. All turned to face him, you smiling when you saw his squeaky clean face and damp hair. It looked like he had taken a shower, probably having to scrub at that pen writing on his face to get it off. He was lucky you hadn’t sat in there for a half hour the other night like you wanted to. He was one of the only group members not hung over, but luckily his leg was no longer bandaged, now completely healed and ready to go.

“Which one of you douchebags,” He growled, eyes traveling over you and Lady, “Wrote ‘dead weight’ on my forehead?”

You rose a brow, not wanting to be a snitch.

Lady seemed to have similar thoughts, letting out a low yawn and turning her gaze away. An unspoken agreement passed between you two, obviously annoying the white-haired demon hunter. You liked Nero, you really did, but you couldn’t throw the obvious culprit under the bus. Hell, you didn’t even know why the whole ‘dead weight’ joke was a thing, but guessing by Nero’s obvious annoyance and that twitching muscle under his eye, it was a sore subject for him. Probably why he got so mad when Griffon said it days earlier.

“I’m so disappointed in you both,” Nero clicked his tongue, crossing his arms as he entered the room, “You both know damn well who did it, but you won’t just confirm it.”

“Did you see who did it, Y/N?” Lady said, examining her cuticles in a lazy display of disdain, “I didn’t, don’t remember a thing.”

You shrugged, playing with a lock of your hair as you replied, “Cannot recall, Must be the booze.”

Nero groaned, rolling his eyes as he turned away, “You guys are the worse. Can’t even believe this shit.”

You smiled, hopping off the table and hearing V follow you as you approached the disgruntled boy.

“Sorry, Nero,” You replied, patting him on the shoulder, “I’ll make it up to you somehow. How is Nico doing this morning?”

Nero made a face, inclining his head toward the door he came through. You heard a distant groan, and the sound of a clanging--Nico was definitely awake, and definitely not happy this morning. You smiled ruefully, hearing her trail of carnage as she made her way through the van, then shoved open the door from the garage. V took a step back, probably not wanting to get involved with the chaos the hungover woman was bringing--smart of him. Nico definitely looked frazzled, hair a mess and bags under her eyes. She took that alcohol well, but the following morning seemed less than stellar. You felt bad for her.

“What are y’all lookin’ at?” She scowled once every eye in the room was on her disheveled form, “What time is it?”

Nero checked a clock on the wall, letting out a low hum. As if Nico’s suffering pleased him.

“Ten in the morning,” He replied, crossing his arms again as he regarded the woman, “We should probably head out, lots to do today.”

Nico groaned, scrubbing a hand down her face, “Shit, that late already?” She looked over the room, scowling a bit as everyone started to gear themselves up. You rushed over to put everything you needed in your bag, absorbing it back into yourself. You then tasked yourself with quickly changing into your normal clothes, not caring who saw you in your panties. V and Nero quickly turned their backs, like gentlemen, while Lady covered Griffon and Shadow’s eyes. Nico openly watched, you could tell. But when you turned your bare back toward them, it occurred to you that neither of the woman had seen it yet.

You heard Lady suck in a breath, and you blinked, quickly pulling on your blouse to hide the jagged scaring all over your back. Yikes, you never explained that.

“Holy shit,” Nico said in a hushed voice, “Y/N, what the hell happened to your god damn back?”

You saw V’s shoulders twitch like he wanted to turn and look, but the precious boy managed to keep himself composed. You smiled softly, vaguely thinking that you wouldn’t have minded if he snuck a peak, which was a dangerous thought. Although, it now became apparent to you that you definitely spilled a lot to the girls last night that V hadn’t heard. You fought a groan, realizing just how many facts you had let loose--both knew your secret now, but the poet didn’t. You held the scars of every time you died, but you couldn’t say that. Not now, not in front of V and Nero. You weren’t exactly comfortable with telling those secrets to them yet, not without the use of alcohol.

Hell, had you not been drunk you wouldn’t have even told the girls. But you were glad you did. You just needed time.

“That’s a story for another time,” You replied, tugging on your combat boots and lacing them, “It’s safe to turn around boys.”

Both immediately turned, relieved to see you now clothed. V’s expression, at the very least, was slightly relieved. And slightly…

Was that disappointment? He looked a bit concerned too, as if he knew there were things that the girls knew and he didn’t. You felt bad, but you couldn’t bring yourself to share everything...not now.

“Warn a guy next time before you start stripping,” Nero huffed, scratching the side of his head, “Some of us are committed men.”

“One of us,” V replied, giving a wry smile, “In fact you’re the only committed man in the room, Nero.”

You chuckled, “Sorry sorry. Was just in a hurry,” You walked by, completely ready now and patted his cheek, “I’ll make sure to tell Kyrie your chastity is preserved.”

“Wow, thanks,” Nero said in heavy sarcasm, rolling his eyes and turning to follow you. He spared the mechanic a passing glance, tone stern as he replied, “Please do not start drinking again. We’re gonna head out, you and Lady be ready to respond if needed.”

“Yeah yeah,” Nico replied with a huff, scratching the side of her face and wincing, “Don’t get your panties in a twist. You know my number.”

You smiled, wrapping your tendrils around her waist as you passed toward the door. A small jolt of energy made her eyes fly open, gaze whipping around to stare at you as you relieved some of her fatigue and pain. This was her first time feeling it, which had to be exciting for the mechanic. You smiled, blowing her a light kiss as your group made its way out the door, tendrils retracting back into you. You were sad you were leaving Lady and Nico behind, but there was work to do. You were glad to be on the move again, but the girl time you were allowed was both wanted and needed. Just...maybe with less booze next time, if there was a next time.

Lady gave you a little finger wave, an adorable smile on her face as you returned it. Upon entering the garage, you were delighted to see the sun shining beyond the garage door. Nero lifted it with his metal arm effortlessly, allowing you and your group to pass through. Less stellar now that you were facing the bright light head on. You lifted a hand to shield the sun, wincing when it sent a twinge through your skull. Bright, much too bright. And worse so, the black crystal you produced the other day was still there, now glinting and gleaming in the morning glow. A reminder, of sorts. Griffon landed on your shoulders as you stared at it, letting out a low whistle as you both took in the sheer size of the structure--he had been there when it was made, but you got the impression he hadn’t really absorbed how big it was.

“Still can’t believe you made that,” Griffon squawked, his blue feathers glinting in the sun, “That shit was sure somethin’, toots. A real doozy.”

V came up on your right, Nero on your left.

Nero let out a light hum, eyeing the structure with a mix of awe and envy, “Damn, wish I could have been around to see you blow some demons away.”

You smiled, “Maybe another--”

“No!”

All three of them exclaimed at the same time, pinning your startled form in place with varying looks of exasperation. You blinked, holding up your hands defensively but getting the message pretty damn fast--no one liked what the invocation did to you, it would seem. V looked very firm on the issue, jade eyes locking with yours and not moving. There were severally emotions in that gaze, ones that you would not argue with. If anything...it made you feel good.

“N...noted…” You sighed, rubbing the toe of your boot into the ground, “It won’t happen again.”

Nero pat you on the back, a light smirk on his face as he replied, “Don’t sweat it, kid. Bet it was pretty cool, but the results were less than satisfactory.”

“I agree.” V said simply, gripping the head on his cane.

You smiled lightly, rocking back on your heels as Nero started forward, heading to where you remembered Nico telling you to meet them the previous day. Morning four of traveling, one day lost. No one seemed to mind the lost time, which you were grateful for. Nero seemed in pretty high spirits as he led the group to what looked to be an abandoned subway station, rubble and debris lining the platform and tunnel entrance. You fought a groan at the idea of going back underground, but it was at least better than sewers. Cleaner, at least you hoped so. Better lit at the very least.

V walked step by step with you, Shadow on your right and he on your left. Griffon was still perched on your shoulders, and you swore you saw Nero eyeing your group with a bit of curiosity in his expression. You imagined he was intrigued by the strange companionship you had with the demons. V as well, since the poet seemed to be a very mysterious, closed off individual. Little did Nero know, V was occasionally brushing you as you walked, always wearing that smug little smirk when you looked up at him. He never met your gaze, but you know damn well the bastard was doing that shit on purpose. His hand touched your lower back at some point and you thought your heart was going to pound out of your chest.

Oh yes. Things were definitely different.

“I think splitting up would be a good idea,” Nero announced as the subway tunnel branched down into two sides, “Cover more ground that way.”

You frowned before V could agree, eyeing the tunnel with a hesitant look.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” You asked, frowning at the white haired boy, “Why do you guys always wanna split up? Literally that’s the worst idea, haven’t you guys ever watched a horror movie in your life?”

V shook his head, “I don’t believe I have.”

Both you and Nero stared at him for that revelation, a mixture of shock and realization coursing through you. Half of your mind expected that answer, yet you were still startled by it. How the hell had this boy never watched a horror movie? He must have been pretty sheltered...or the opposite, lived a life shitty enough that he never found the time or means. Both sounded awful to you, and probably to the outraged demon hunter next to you.

“Not one?” Nero demanded, “Shit, we need to change that.”

V let out a light sigh, eyeing you both like you were lunatics as he replied, “At a time not now. We need to make haste,” His gaze landed on you, softening considerably as that smirk came back, “I will agree that Y/N raises a point. If we are both traveling in the same direction, I see no reason why we couldn’t share the same path.”

It felt nice when V agreed with you. You were such a simple bitch, his words made you beam in delight. Not only did he decide your plan of action was correct, now you could spend some time with Nero as well. Girls night before, now it was daytime with the lads. You could admit there was a lot of testosterone in the group now, but that was fine in your opinion. You wanted the chance to fight alongside the demon hunter, you were willing to bet there was a lot his fighting style could teach you. Only downside to this was less alone time with the poet, but judging by the weird, magnetic way you two were hovering around each other...it wouldn’t be an issue.

“Fine by me,” Nero shrugged, rolling his shoulders a bit as he pointed his pistol at the two tunnels, “Which one should we pick…?”

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, giving him a light shove to the right side, “Nico is right, you are such a dork. Just go.”

Nero huffed a bit, putting his pistol back as he started making his way down the tracks, “You’re no fun.”

“I’m an appropriate amount of fun,” You replied in an amused tone, stepping back by V’s side to keep in step with the poet, “I’m just impatient.”

V let out a low hum, pulling out his poems as he walked beside you. You caught a glimpse of the pages, surprised when you noticed what looked to be hand drawn artwork and writing. It didn’t look like this book was printed, but instead was hand made lovingly by someone. You didn’t get to glimpse much, looking away before you were caught peeking. Besides, the peace and quiet wasn’t going to last long anyway. Your foresight began to flare, signaling upcoming demons, making you stop in place to whistle between your fingers and alert the others.

“Get ready,” You warned when Nero and V looked at you, pulling out your daggers, “We’ve got company.”

Somehow, the train tunnels were worse than the sewers.

Hours. You were stuck in there for hours fighting demons. New ones this time, stronger ones. Lizard-like creatures, bigger things with bigger attacks. On one hand, you got to see Nero’s fighting style a bit more, and him being there eased your need to use your own abilities. On the other hand...so much fighting. The subway was crawling with enemies and roots, so much so that your foresight barely stopped flaring. It was pretty annoying, so you just stopped announcing when battles would occur. Because they were always occurring. You were hating it a lot more than the sewers, only difference was there were actually safe places to sit and relax here.

You stopped once or twice, forcing the two boys and the demons to eat. Nero seemed perplexed with your attachment to food, but otherwise didn’t complain and shoved whatever it was you provided down his throat like a gremlin. V still ate his slowly, carefully, like he was savoring it. The brief moments for resting and chowing down were always short lived, interrupted by demons whenever they could slip their gross little noses in. You were a fairly patient person, but you were beginning to associate the underground with just terrible things. Only this time you were being smart about your energy, and keeping close to V and letting Nero do his thing. Which Nero didn’t mind, the kid loved to fight and be brash.

You reached what appeared to be a boarding area for trains, wide open and filled with benches. Nero let out a whoop of delight, setting on the demons with all the energy in the world, certainly more energy that you had for that late in the day. It must have been four in the afternoon by then. You exchanged a glance with V, opting on sitting down on a nearby bench to watch Nero’s fighting style while you sipped water. V opened his book again to read that poetry, letting his summons do all the work. You and he were similar, he wasn’t enjoying it either. Just out of necessity, a bit of a tired look in his eyes as he murmured those familiar words, stepping to the side to avoid enemy attacks. He did, however, seem to have fun in some instances of battle, like Nero’s high energy was feeding into his own level of extra. He was taunting more now than ever before, and getting more ridiculous.

You wrapped your tendrils around him gingerly, ready to move him away at a moments notice. Nero seemed fine, whatever arm he was using making him a hoppity son of a bitch. He was zipping all over the place.

“How do you have so much energy?” You complained to him, crossing your legs and letting out a light huff as he shot a demon in the head over and over, “It’s ridiculous.”

He let out a light laugh, kicking the demon away and taunting lightly before he replied to you, “Only thing I’m good at is kicking demon ass!”

You smiled ruefully, highly doubting he had zero other skills. At least he was having fun. They were certainly widdling the demons down fast, loud explosions and crackling filling the room with their attacks. A demon went whizzing past you, disintegrating as you winced and leaned to the side. The only problem when fighting with Nero’s aid is that a lot of his attacks sent the demons flying away or knocked back. You partnered well with V’s fighting style, but Nero seemed used to doing shit on his own.

“Pin them to a wall.” V growled to Shadow, the cat immediately responding and sending a dozen spikes into an enemy. Sensations of honest to god arousal traveled through you, ones you tried to shake as you quietly sipped water. You were thirsty for something alright. Every time he said something like that you were sent into a tailspin of bullshit, craving, and misbehaving thoughts. You just couldn’t behave it would seem--you had never felt such a chemistry with someone before, nor such a high amount of attraction. There was just something about the poet that was drawing you in.

Way too fast. But that only excited your dumb, idiotic brain.

When the last demon was finally dead, you let out a sigh of relief, hopping up from the bench and stretching your back with a soft groan. Finally, some peace, even if it would probably be short lived.

Nero flicked some blood off his metal hand, cracking his neck before turning to smirk at you.

“I’m gonna go scout ahead a bit,” He said, glancing between you and V for a moment, “You two chill for a bit, I’m gonna clear the way.”

“You sure?” You asked, leaning a hand on your hip, “Promise you’ll shout if things get too rough.”

He laughed, flexing his metal fingers as he replied, “Shit gets narrow up the escalator. I’ll scream like a banshee if I need some help, that good for you?”

You smirked, “I’m down. Have fun, be back before dark.”

“Yes, mom.” Nero mocked.

He gave you a single finger salute, hopping up onto the escalator and sprinting up and out of view. V let out a low hum of relief, leaning against a nearby pillar and closing his book with a low thud. He didn’t look too bad yet, thank god. Griffon was shaking out his feathers and huffing, landing on your shoulders so he could watch the demon-hunter disappear up into the subway.

“Brat sure has a lot of energy,” He grunted, closing his eyes a bit and preening his feathers, “Can’t relate. Sick of dealing with these fucking lackeys. Lower level bastards.”

You smiled sympathetically, patting his feathered head, “You’re doing great, sweetie.”

He grunted, settling down and closing his eyes to rest a bit. V seemed to sense he was tired, so he lifted his cane, summoning the bird back along with shadow in an instant. You blinked in surprise, not used to Griffon returning as well. The instant he did, his tattoos went from slightly faded to flat back, writhing a bit before settling on his smooth, pale skin. You stared in awe for a moment before blinking, trying to shake the sensation from your mind. You were positive V saw you looking.

He walked over to you, cane tapping on the floor with each step as you sat back down on the bench. You wanted to look up at him, but this new energy between the two of you was making you a little nervous, a little hot around the collar. V tapped you under the chin with the silver-handle, tilting your head up a bit to meet his gaze and examine your face. His expression delighted you, making your stomach roll a bit with that nervous excitement you just couldn’t shake.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, giving you that smoldering look from under his lashes, “You haven’t exerted yet.”

You smiled lightly, tapping the end of his cane with your index finger.

“I’m fine,” You assured, eyeing him with a concerned look of your own, “How about you? How is that shoulder feeling?”

He made a big show of rotating it, flexing his arm a bit as he replied, “No worse for wear.”

That made you smile in relief, but it occurred to you that something was...more noticeable now that the fighting was done. You paused, tilting your head and holding up a finger to stop whatever the poet was going to say next. You were positive now, more focused and alert--light music was playing from somewhere.

Now that the area wasn’t filled with the sound of fighting, grunting, and screaming demons--you could hear the sound of faint violin music playing from the subway speakers. Light and gentle, strangely out of place in the broken, grimy setting. You blinked, meeting V’s gaze and putting a finger to you ear. You knew he noticed right away, those full lips parting a bit as he inclined his head. He looked absolutely entranced, that mischievous look appearing in his eyes as he looked up toward the ceiling. Looking for speakers, probably. You liked the expression he had, almost like childish wonder--the same look he got before doing his taunts.

You closed your eyes a bit, listening to the ringing chords of a violin and trying to find some peace in the moment. You could hear Nero lightly fighting up ahead, his echoing shouts and laughter still reaching the main subway platform. Other than that, you could hear just...the music. And V’s slow breaths. That closeness between the two of you seemed even more pronounced now that you and V were alone, truly alone for once in the entire time you had been together. You didn’t quite know what to say, but you wanted to say something--because you were sure he felt it too, this strange energy that had been blooming since day one. The aching, desperate need to be closer, better.

Before you could open your mouth, V’s fingers curled under your chin, making your eyes pop open to look at him.

He had a wry smile on his lips, half tilted upward as he held that same hand out to you.

“Shall I have this dance?” He purred, jade eyes shadowed in the dim light of the subway.

Your heart went racing in your chest, pounding like fists on steel doors. You felt that dumb, eager ache blooming in your chest again.

You smiled ruefully, taking his hand again and letting out a light laugh as he tugged you to your feet. The absurdity of the whole moment was making you giddy, hand entwined with his as he pulled you further into the clearing where just before those demon’s had been killed. God, his skin was so warm. Energized, squeezing your fingers with a gentle encouragement. His face was so very enticing, head tilted down to look at you as he gave you that crooked smile you so enjoyed. He did have a flare for the extra, only this was his first time openly involving you in it, inviting you to join. It felt very...personal.

Oh lord, you were in over your head. You were in wayyy over your head.

He tugged you against his lanky form, twirling you around to the sound of the music, humming lightly to the tune. Whatever the song was, he seemed to know what it was. You tried to follow his steps, smiling like a complete idiot as he took you step by step around the room. You felt...so many things. Embarrassed, elated, excited, giddy. You hoped your face wasn’t red from all of it, but your cheeks were already pretty warm. Once the tempo of the song picked up, he gave a light chuckle, wrapping an arm around your waist and lifting you briefly, spinning you around with a light squeak on your part. He seemed to be having a good time, hair waving about his face each time he moved you.

He looked...entrancing. And in that moment you knew just how deep in you were.

You had known him for four days if you were pushing it. Four days to become this smitten with the poet. In all your years of serving the Deity, you had never gotten close enough with anyone to feel romantically attracted to them. And even those you did get close to, none appealed to you on a physical attraction level. Never. You never thought of being touched by any of them, being held by any of them. But this...was new, different. Even as a human, had you ever felt this kind of chemistry before? You highly doubted it, there was something very special about V. Approachable, charming. Mysterious. Maybe you had been doing this too long, maybe all those years of serving with no regard for yourself had left you too lonely.

You didn’t care.

Dancing with V felt both too short and too long. The music came to a slow end, the final chords of a violin ringing out as V bowed to you, hair falling in front of his face as he bent his head over your hand. If you weren’t mistaken, you felt his lips brush your skin, ever so slightly. Your pulse was racing, you knew he could feel it. Instinctively, you took a few steps back toward him, his hand sliding down your wrist as you did so. His fingers felt so precise, gentle. Probing, even. Like he was tracing the very veins under your skin. You met his gaze, letting him pull you back against his chest while still gently griping your arm. A silent, unspoken thing passed between you, the building energy that had started blooming now turning to flower petals.

His hand ghosted along your jaw, an interesting expression on his face as he regarded your warm cheeks, soft lips, and gentle eyes. You could see yourself reflected in his, and that made your heart pound even faster. His thumb brushed your lips, gently tracing the lower one with a tenderness you had never experienced. It made you knees so very weak. You thought you saw his tattoos writhe a bit out of the corner of your eye, his companions sensing their master’s racing heartbeat but not aware of the reason why.

You wanted to kiss him. So badly.

And from the look on his face, he wanted to do the same to you.

But before you could bridge the gap, Nero’s loud voice rang out, echoing from his place further along the subway. You saw V close his eyes, a light sigh being drawn from his lips as the moment you shared came to a halt. You loved Nero dearly, but in that moment you had never been so disappointment in him.

“I found the exit!” Nero’s voice caroled, coming closer as he probably made his way back, “Ready when you guys are!”

You let out a slow breath, closing your eyes and mourning the lost opportunity. But much to your surprise, V didn’t pull away instantly like you expected. He lingered, stroking those fingers over the back of your neck, sending chills down your spine. His lips brushed your ear--you could have easily fainted, knees very weak from the whole experience. Not to mention unbelievably turned on--were you really that starved for attention, that needy? Felt like you were. You could have moaned at the feeling, christ his breath was so hot. Wanting, breathy.

“We will continue this,” V murmured, tone filled with heavy promise, “At a later date.”

With that, he turned away, fingers trailing through your hair and body brushing past yours just as Nero appeared right at the top of the escalator. You kept your back turned, hands pressed to your cheeks as you desperately tried to gain a molecule of composure. Your emotions were written on your face, you couldn’t imagine what kind of expression you were wearing. You wanted to bite your lip, and you wanted...so many things. Fuck, you were in so much trouble.

An unbelievable amount of trouble.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136193/chapters/43222517

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Tagged: @just-call-me-no-name @silentwhispofhope @nightshadow4713 @slightlylunatic @efiicitia @raven-huntress

#devil may cry v #devil may cry #dmc v #dmc 5 #dmcv #v dmc #V x reader #v x self insert #fanfic #chapter 11 #ebony and ivory #ebony and ivory chapter 11

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