#he didn’t listen then and now that arc is likely coming to it’s head

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Something something about the rescue that endangers the 118 being a camper van and how campervans suggest transience and impermanence- of constantly travelling and exploring and searching for something.

Something about it being ‘disabled’ - not broken down but disabled and how Buck hasn’t broken down, but has been disabled by his trauma.

Something something about Buck being highlighted as the one trying to save members of his found family (his brother and sister) and how Buck has been on a journey this season his search for something - for happiness.

Something something about Lev figuring it out in the rubble at the beginning of the season before dying and how Buck will figure it out in the rubble too - after he has died.

[feyascorner]

3 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You hate him, you think. You want to hate him, at the very least.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke."

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard, large chunks of italicized texts are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. redemption arc is coming i swear :) this is a whopping 4.7k i got kinda carried away but oh well,, Thank you so much for your comments on these they make my day and i appreciate each one<3

Dance upon the stars tonight

Smile and pain will fade away

“And what might our dear bard be working so passionately on?”

You look up from your notebook, ceasing the messy scribbling of lyrics into its tattered pages. Astarion perches himself beside you, the flames of the campfire flickering in the reflection of his eyes as you stop humming and raise a cautious brow. A vampire spawn. You’d never seen one in person–-only had you heard of them in your childhood tales of the spawn that would sweep away naughty children if they didn’t finish their vegetables. Up close, you can almost see his fangs protruding from the grin he's constantly wearing.

You wonder if it’s a genuine one.

“That bard at the grove today,” you recall. “Alfira? I’m trying to finish the lyrics and write them out for her.”

“Is that so? Surely you’re receiving some sort of payment for these gracious services?”

You train your eyes back onto the pages, shaking your head. “I’m doing this for fun. Her song is beautiful. It just needs—” you squint. “--adjustment.”

He laughs, and you can see the fangs clearly now. They’re sharper than you expected them to be. “I believe that’s a drastic understatement, my dear. My heart felt for those poor squirrels. I’m quite willing to bet that they have an aversion to bards now.”

“And you’re suddenly a musician yourself?”

“It doesn’t take a musician to recognize poor singing, darling Tav,” he returns. “And considering I’ve spent the past few days listening to your music, I’m sure you’ll understand why I considered it such an abomination.”

You narrow your eyes. “I thought you didn’t like me–or my music.”

“You? I'm still deciding,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes. “But I must say that I’m growing rather fond of that lyre of yours. Have you had it for long?”

You give him a sidelong glance before answering slowly. “I’ve had it for ages. Practically when I just started.”

“Explains itself then, I suppose.”

“And you?” you watch as he leans back on his palms. “Do you have any other talents to offer to our companions, or is it just your teeth?”

“Now, don’t be so cruel, dear,” he smiles wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re rather fond of them as well. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring all the time.”

“I’m on guard,” you clarify.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You’re not sure if you can sleep with one eye open, much less both of them closed. You’re not sure if you trust him at all, either, but as he stares up at the starry sky, simply listening to the crackling of the campfire, you decide you’d rather save yourself the energy for what awaits tomorrow.

“Why did you do that earlier?” you find yourself asking, and he replies by glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Do what?”

“Save Wyll from that goblin arrow,” you mumble. “I thought you didn't care about any of us.”

“And what gives you that impression?”

You deadpan, staring at him with lidded eyes and he laughs out loud. It sounds more genuine than anything else he’s offered so far. It's nice.

“It’s a simple transaction, dear. One where I receive protection in turn for the occasional aid I can give with my own blade.”

You squint at him, but you see no signs of deception. So instead, you simply nod and resume scribbling into your notebook, softly humming to yourself alongside the lyrics. And when you halt, stuck on a particular lyric that you can’t seem to remember, you hear him shift, standing himself back up to retreat to his tent.

“Something about faith and care comes next if my memory serves,” is all he says before striding away. While you watch him in confusion, you click your tongue and try to focus again. And when you look down at your page, you remember the rest of the words.

Somehow, you feel the corners of your lips lift.

“As much as I’d love for this to be a charming, long-awaited reunion, one of the parties imposes a danger to the other.”

You wince at the sarcasm dripping from Gale’s voice. Duke Ravengard’s expression remains solemn, unmoving like a stone, while your companion pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “We can’t harbor a vampire spawn in our home. We’re supposed to be finding them, not keeping them!”

You hate the irony of the statement because the camp you’d spent so many months in with an uninvited guest in your head, had also been your home. One where you spent your nights in a vampire spawn’s tent. It’s not so different, you keep telling yourself. But you’re painfully aware that the Duke only knows a sugar-coated version of the falling out between you and said vampire. He doesn’t know how his son had to tear Astarion away from you and how your voice had been sore for weeks afterward.

“As much as I have my own opinions with allying with a vampire spawn,” the Duke stares at Astarion warningly. “Wyll did say this spawn saved his life while your party ventured together. For that, I'm willing to see reason if he’s cooperative, rather than restrain him with the Fists.”

You never thought much of it until now. With how many life threatening experiences you and your companions had come across, it felt natural to save one another. At first, it had been out of necessity—fear that one person would turn into an illithid. Yet, with time, you'd all grown fond of each other, one way or another.

You think back to when Astarion had saved Wyll and wonder if that part of him is still in there. Maybe it was never there at all. Maybe it had been another one of his manipulation tactics that you're so prone to falling for.

Gods, you're hopeless.

The wizard standing beside you sighs irritably. “But that was before he tried to squeeze the life out of-”

“How long do we need to keep him?”

Gale balks at your words. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“Just until we’re able to locate the rest of the spawns spread throughout the city, which you kindly decided not to mention in our last conversation.”

You shoot Gale a glare, silently questioning if he’d been the one to confess the existence of the spawns underground, but he’s too busy scanning over Astarion, who’s mindlessly fidgeting with his knife. The said spawn seems to feel your gaze, because he glances at you, then grins.

The bastard is smiling.

“The man you killed this morning is a spawn himself, yes?” the Duke clarifies. “There have been numerous reports the past few days about strange figures with fangs throughout the city—I’d known they’d existed, but to the numbers that are being reported…”

“You couldn’t have possibly believed myself to be the only spawn around?” Astarion laughs bitterly. “I do not wish to go hungry, Duke, but I don’t need nearly as many bodies that’s been showing up—assuming that I did drink from anyone, of course.”

Ravengard ignores him, speaking as if he’s not there. “I could still have him detained if that is what you wish. We can continue as we have and search for the spawn without his help.”

You know it’s a fruitless effort if last night has told you anything.

“You don’t even have evidence that I drank from a single person in this entire bloody city!” Astarion spits back, rolling his neck in exasperation.

“No,” you purse your lips, finally looking up. “I’ll be responsible for him.”

Gale clears his throat alarmingly. “Now, dear leader, let’s have a private conversation before we make any hasty decisions, yes? Surely, we don’t have to decide right this moment.”

And while you open your mouth to respond that no, you won’t have Astarion rot away in some gross cell, the Duke nods. “Very well.”

Gale pushes you to the corner of the room, with his face clearly paling in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking. You want someone who nearly strangled you to death sleeping in the room next to yours?”

“Ravengard wants us to find out where the other spawn are hiding, and the only lead we have is sitting right there,” you defend yourself. “Throwing Astarion into a dirty cell won’t do anything to convince him to help us.”

“The Duke doesn’t know what he did to you!”

“He doesn’t need to. Astarion’s made it very clear he’s not going to spill any information if the Duke is the one asking, and we need a lead. I nearly died last night, Gale. I want to avoid that if I can.”

His eyes soften just a bit, but it’s enough. With a loud sigh, he scrunches his nose. “And you’re sure you’re not doing this for more personal reasons?”

At this, you pause. Your eyes waver, and the look Gale gives you is almost soul-crushing if it weren’t for the fact that you feel like you’ve already hit rock bottom. You know this is not a good idea. You know that being so close to him again after so many months is not a good idea, especially when you’ve just finally begun your journey to forget him.

You curse the gods above for your luck.

The silence prompts Gale to speak. “I’ll tell the Duke we can’t involve ourselves in this.”

“Gale,” your voice almost cracks. “Please.”

He doesn’t want to agree, you can tell. Any sane person wouldn’t invite a bloodthirsty vampire spawn who’s willing to use his own hands to kill his so-called lover into their home. You want to think that you’re void of bias, but you know it’s a pathetic attempt to reassure yourself. Still, the expression on your face must be quite the sight because Gale takes one look, glances at Astarion, then slumps his shoulders. You’ve won.

You hadn’t even realized the door had been swung open, where your other companions had been standing, taking one look at Astarion then to you. While Gale wallows in his own defeat, you turn to the others, eyes glimmering with a kind of hope that they haven’t seen in months.

“Your judgment’s gotten us this far,” Shadowheart sighs. “We’d be fools not to trust it now.”

Lae’zel clicks her tongue. “My blade is ready to slit his throat if need be. Just command me, and I shall.”

“We aren’t going to try to kill him," you retort.

“It’s only right to return the favor."

Dinner is awkward. You’re finally getting to try Gale’s stew, but it’s hard to focus on the taste when all you can feel is the searing stare of the person sitting across from you. He only has a goblet of crimson liquid in the same shade as his eyes in front of him, and it remains untouched as he takes in the rest of the house.

“So,” Gale offers. “What have you been up to?”

It’s not much, but it’s better than sitting in complete silence.

“Wandering the streets at night, mostly. Oh, and murdering half the city, apparently,” Astarion lets out his usual high-pitched laugh at the end, and your fingers tighten around your spoon. Shadowheart glares at him through her lashes, and you think she may lunge at him any second. You want to think you wouldn't stop her.

You feel for her, really. Being the group’s cleric comes with its advantages but also with the unspoken burden of watching your companions in pain. She’d been the one to ensure Astarion hadn’t left long-lasting damage to your throat. She’d been the one to soothe your headaches and cast a sleeping spell on you in hopes it’ll allow you to rest longer than just a few hours. She’d also seen you nearly bleed out multiple times, one of which occurred mere hours ago.

The sudden scrape of Lae’zel’s chair being pushed back catches your attention. She stands, lifting her bowl with her. “The air here is suffocating. Sort out your differences before I sort them out for you.”

The rest of you collectively nod. She doesn’t say anything else before leaving the room.

“The room at the end of the hallway upstairs is yours,” Shadowheart says finally. “Don’t bother me if you need anything else.”

She stands up as well, leaving her bowl in the sink before pacing up the stairs to her own quarters.

Somehow, the atmosphere is even worse now. You don’t dare lift your eyes from your stew, and you honestly hope it explodes before you have to sit here and drink all of it in this silence. Gale, thankfully, does not leave. Instead, he sets down his utensil.

“I suggest we have a set of rules in place–for the sake of everyone occupying this home,” he clears his throat. You shoot him a questioning look, which he dusts off.

“Fine,” Astarion leans back in his chair, now swirling the goblet of blood in his hand. “What do you have in mind?”

“No drinking. From anyone here.”

You blink a few times, then hear Astarion hum in acknowledgment. “Shame. Though your blood was vile anyway.”

“And don’t cause any trouble. One of us will go with you when you need to drink, so you can hunt for whatever animal you prefer these days. Otherwise, unless we say so, you’ll remain here.”

“Why, this sounds almost identical to a prison. Looking for a job as a warden, Gale? A midlife crisis, perhaps. Does wizard life not suit you anymore?”

“It suits me plenty, thanks,” Gale snorts. “We’ll be out during the day to rebuild the city, so you’ll have to entertain yourself in your own room. Don’t touch anything—especially my stuff.”

Astarion grins. “That almost sounds like an invitation.”

The wizard then turns to you. “And you? Do you have any other rules you’d like to add?”

You finally lift your head from the stew, looking back and forth between the two before shaking your head while pushing your chair back. For someone who’d imagined aimlessly for months about seeing your former lover again, you can’t seem to look him in the eye for fear of what you might feel. “I’m going out.”

“I’m going to take that as a no.”

Wordlessly, you pace toward the door, refusing to look back to suppress the urge to sprint back into his arms. You don’t know what you were thinking just a few hours ago, but this was not going to end well. If you couldn’t manage a simple dinner sitting across from him, what could you manage?

You’re in such a rush that you forget to bring anything besides your wallet.

By the time you’re on your way back to the house hours later, you have a backpack shoved full of fabrics with nails and a hammer to go along with it. As you pass by the taverns, you hear music playing from inside, alongside a few cheers and what you can only assume to be a crash of chairs as people applaud. 

You can’t help but peer through the window as you walk past, where a bard merrily plays on his drum, lightening the mood of the entire tavern—even the bartender smiles along as he plays tunes you’ve heard a million times before. And while your hands itch for a lyre—to feel the string snap against your fingertips—you know no good will come of it. You’ll only sit before the instrument, your hands unable to find the emotions to exert in the form of notes. 

As you stare at the bard, you remind yourself you’ve long given up on that kind of life.

So instead, you continue your way to the Highberry’s home. When you knock on the door, a very weary Cora Highberry greets you with bags under her eyes, but a calm smile still stretching on her lips nonetheless. She steps out of the way, inviting you in, and you do so.

“You didn’t have to, dear,” she says as she takes a bag of the city’s finest fruits from your hands. “The neighbors have been oh so gracious to us. They’re helping the children so much, I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

“I was just passing by, that’s all,” you offer. “I wanted to check on you since I left a bit abruptly last time.”

“Oh, dear, you know how to make a woman feel special. It’s been terrible, really. I haven’t gone so long with my husband in ages…” she laughs, wiping at her swollen eyes. “But we were an old couple anyways…I had some time to prepare my emotions. I just didn’t think he’d go like that.”

You nod as she hands you a mug of hot tea. “But never mind that. I’ve spent the past two weeks talking about nothing but myself, so I’m quite tired. What about you, dear?”

“Me?”

“You look like death themselves,” she frowns. “I’ve lived for quite long…I recognize that heartbroken face anywhere. Has something happened?”

The way she’s staring at you—it’s different than pity. You can’t quite identify it, but she smiles again. It’s not the kind of smile most people give you—not one of anticpation, not one of gratefulness, but just a regular, old smile. And it makes your shoulders untense just the slightest before they tense again. You take a swig of the tea, nearly burning your throat in the process as you set the mug down, splitting a pathetic smile. “No, I’m okay. Just--tired.”

Very, very tired. Not physically, no, but tired of the indecisiveness that is your heart.

Her face falls softly. “How troubling it must be to have the weight of the city on your shoulders."

Before you can answer, there’s a loud thud upstairs. She notices your alarm and shakes her head. “Ah, must be Berry. She’s one of the younger children, and she’s been taking my husband’s death quite hard. Please excuse me, dear. I need to go put her back to sleep.”

And with that, you’re left alone on the first floor of the building again. You contemplate staying to say your farewells but the cries from upstairs convince you otherwise. Taking one last swig from the mug, you gather your things and leave.

When you get back home, it’s well into the night, an hour or two after midnight, you’d think. None of the lights are on, so the first thing you do is light a candle when you step through the door, dropping your backpack onto the dining room table. Dunking all your materials out, you take the hammer and start your work.

There’s something soothing about the darkness outside, with the way nothing seems to exist besides you and your own thoughts in a city that overflows with a sense of community. You try not to think about the man most likely reading in his room just a floor above you and focus on hanging the fabrics in front of all of the windows. The cloths are mismatched in color, and your hammer work is nothing more than sufficient, but it’ll do for now. At least until you can get actual curtains installed.

You worry that some of the fabrics aren’t thick enough to absorb all the sunlight, so you layer another fabric on top of it until you’re sure that even your candlelight cannot be seen from outside. Why you’re going so far for him, you do not know. You prefer to assure yourself that you need him to help stop the spawn from devouring the entire city, but even in your own thoughts, it sounds like a lie.

You wonder if he cares nearly as much as you do. He probably doesn’t.

You hate him, you think for the millionth time today. You want to, at the very least.

You flinch when a splinter in the wooden wall splits your skin open, forming a drop of blood on your index finger. Curse the heavens above, nothing was going right today. You quickly reach for a towel but nearly jump when you hear his voice from the stairs. 

“You really need to stop with that habit of yours.”

You spin around, and he’s already at the foot of the stairs, reaching to grab a towel from the kitchen. But you’re faster, snatching it away and pressing it over your hand while he raises both his own, imitating a surrender of getting any closer. You can’t look at him in the eye—you don’t want to either. “What habit?”

“You’re speaking to me now?” he raises a brow, and you turn away again after shooting him a glare. “I’d thought you’d avoid me forever—scurrying off like a squirrel whenever I step into the room.”

You should avoid him forever. But the words don’t reach your tongue, and you choose to ignore him.

He doesn’t budge. “I meant bleeding around me.”

“What?”

“Every time I see you, you always seem to be bleeding.”

You frown at him. “Maybe you just prefer being around me when I’m bleeding.”

“You might be right." You think maybe he’s done with this painfully awkward conversation until you see him staring at the windows covered with random pieces of fabric, and suddenly, you feel embarrassment creep up your skin. You realize how bizarre your actions must appear in someone else’s eyes, staying up to the break of dawn so that he’ll be able to traverse someplace outside the confines of his own room…

It might make him think you care, and the worst part is that a part of you does.

“I hope you don’t expect me to thank you, darling.”

The nickname feels like a stab to your heart, haunting, even, but you do your best to brush it off.

“For what?” you manage to force out through clenched teeth.

“The cell they would’ve thrown me into is nothing different from trapping me in that room, I’m afraid,” he laughs bitterly, and you want to crawl into a hole from how cold his voice sounds. Distant. Like how he’d sounded the day you found him next to his nautiloid pod. “But I suppose I should be grateful for having a bed instead of having to spend my days rotting away on the dirty floor?”

You bite your bottom lip, brows furrowing. “I don't expect anything from you.”

But you do. Not quite an expectation, but a lingering wish that maybe you can heal. It's pathetic, even in your own eyes and surely everyone else's, but you can't be bothered to care.

It pisses you off a bit. How he seems perfectly unfazed while you continue to drown in your own feelings.

“Are you just here to taunt me, or is there a reason for this conversation?” you snap. This is not quite how you wanted your reunion to go.

He raises a brow. “Taunt you? I'm only answering questions you're afraid to ask.”

“I don't need to know anything about you,” you grit through your teeth. “You left my mind the second you abandoned us.”

What a poor, wishful lie.

“Ha!” It doesn't really sound like a laugh—more a scoff of disbelief. It's like he knows what you're thinking, and for a split second, it feels like there's a tadpole in your head again. “Of course you think I'm the villain of your precious heroic tale! Honestly darling, the irony just writes itself.”

You fight the urge to scowl, but you're not sure if you're successful. You find yourself gripping onto the towel harder, teeth clenched as your chest tightens just hearing his words. You truly hate that he seems to care less than you—it’s like he's not even taking you seriously.

And that damned nickname.

It feels like talking to the Astarion you first met—one who’s only intentions were to use you—but this time, you don't think it’s a mask. He doesn't want anything more from you. Only your own suffering from taking the power that would have made him untouchable.

“So tell me, dear, do you wish for me to grovel at your feet?”

Your eyes widen, and the term of endearment that once made your cheeks flush only makes you feel sick. “What?”

“Do you expect me to drop to my knees, begging for your forgiveness?” he says again, eerily composed while you struggle to come up with words. “Perhaps I would have if we were still staying in that camp. Put on a show, even."

You frown, setting your hammer down on the counter. “I’ve never made you grovel. I’ve never made you do anything.”

“Maybe not directly, no, you’re too kind of a soul to do so,” there’s venom lacing the words that feel nothing short of a lie. Somehow, he’s still smiling. “Instead, you made me beg for your help. You accepted—made it feel like I had a choice. Then tore it away just the same, in the cruelest way possible. Impressive, really. I didn't expect such dramatic sins from you.”

The way he looks at you, words dripping with sarcasm, makes you want to melt into the floor, ceasing to exist as a whole. But alas, you continue standing like a deer in headlights, unsure of how to respond. You look down to see the towel stained with your blood and inhale deeply, watching the dark sky lighten with daybreak through the window. “The sun’s rising.”

His smile drops, something foreign flickering in his eyes. He suddenly steps toward you, and as soon as he gets within two feet, you find yourself stepping backward, your fingers tightening around the hammer. You have no idea if you'd even be able to use it, but it's better than digging your nails into your palms.

It doesn't go unnoticed.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

You don't want to think he'd truly kill you. Not really, but your mind flashes back to the look in his eyes when he had his hands wrapped around your lifeline, and you grip the hammer tighter, heartbeat pounding impossibly fast.

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke,” you mutter.

His lip twitches, and he steps back bitterly. You feel like you can breathe again.“Ah, yes, that.”

You swear your stomach drops to your feet at the mere suggestion he’d forgotten what haunts your nightmares every night, forcing you to lurch from your rest in a cold sweat, hands shaking, and having nobody to turn to for comfort. He couldn't be that cruel…could he? You want to scream at him, punch him, kick him, tell him he’s not being fair. You want to defend yourself, say that all you’ve ever wanted was for him to be safe, but even that feels like too much when he’s giving you so little.

“Very well, I’ll indulge you,” he grins again. You realize your time is running out, the sun beginning to peer out from the horizon. “Why did you assume responsibility for me? I can’t imagine why you’d want such a terrible foe in your life living right next door of your own sanctuary.”

For the city, you tell yourself. For Cora's husband and the poor victims drained off their life, all alone in the darkest corners of Baldur's Gate. “...I didn’t do it for you.”

He searches your face for something, his eyes narrowing. He's waiting for you to continue, but there's no more fuel in the tank, and now you just want to sleep for a very long time. You assume he comes up empty when the corners of his lips fall, and he turns to climb up the stairs. Sunlight hits your back as your eyes trail him in his steps, and it does nothing to warm how cold it feels in the room.

“That much I’m aware,” he stops his steps for a brief moment. You barely catch it, but it's there. “Terribly aware.”

And when he finally leaves, you bury your face into your hands.

"I'm nervous."

"What for?"

"What if the ascension goes wrong? Are you sure we should really be doing this, Astarion?"

He brushes your hair out of your face, cupping both your cheeks in his hands. "We'll be okay, my love. I will still be here, and so will you. I'll just finally have enough power to protect what I care about."

He sees the hesitance in your eyes and leans his forehead against yours. You melt into his touch, placing your hands atop his.

"So please, stand beside me for this," he pleads.

And despite the way your intuition screams at you otherwise, despite the way your very being begs you to pull away, you nod, sealing your fate.

"I'll be right here."

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[rkiveinmarvel]

anatomy of hands and sake - roronoa zoro. (18+) des. angst-fluff-smut, wano arc. zoro finally woke up after the fight with big mom and kaido--he missed you. porn with plot. clothed sex. make up sex. unprotected sex (practice safe sex ppl) marking and biting>; soft sex, established relationship. soft!dom zoro, people being inlove, aftercare!! nsfw

notes. my propaganda: soft!zoro is canon zoro-again this contains smut (minors dni, pls) zoro big cock energy, mentions of wounds and stitches. F! Reader

hello. i had this idea for a while and yeah, here it is. it's my first time writing smut so, bear with me--n e way he might be ooc here but zoro is zoro and iluvhim. hiyori is mention as well tho-no hate to hiyori-luv that girl--livelaughlovemarimo

w.c: 3k (damn, zoro)

The infamous swordsman of the Straw Hat is known for his ability to stand his ground in any battle and situation, with one foot in front of him–he doesn’t hesitate to draw his sword if someone pisses off the crew. Saints forbid those who pissed off the swordsman because he will show no mercy and no hesitation, until it’s the captain’s orders—and an order from you.

            It’s no secret that you and the straw hats were once against each other in the fight at skypiea but that fight is the fight Zoro hesitated to hold his sword—maybe because he’s finally facing a right hand of the so-called god or maybe you were fighting against your will or maybe—just maybe—he didn’t want to hurt you. He still remembers how you gripped your sword with such anger and shouting at them to leave the island to protect themselves—call it a warning or a sign but at that moment, Zoro wanted to save you; he was glad he did.

            That was two years ago and here you are now waiting Zoro to wake up from his slumber after fighting Kaido and Big Mom. You reached for the damp towel as you wiped his worn-out body and slow heaving chest—Zoro looked peaceful when he sleeps, he always does, but moments like this you wish you can just see him working out at the crow’s nest, hear him argue with the cook, look out for Chopper, or just seat and listen to you.

            This is what you hate the most every time a battle ended, the silence of waiting, hoping, and wishing that all of the crew members are okay—the unwanted fast paced heartbeat as you wished for them to be okay. You sighed deeply as you caressed Zoro’s face and continue to wipe his cheeks and dance your fingertips in his hair.

            “Please, wake up…” You whispered lowly as you stare at this sleeping state and replace his old bandages with new ones. Once you finished cleaning him up—a small smile left your lips as you kissed his forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

            Morning after morning, the green-haired swordsman and the future king of the pirates are still asleep—with no luck, you decided to spend the night looking out for the two; which Chopper didn’t agree at first, but as Chopper felt the tiredness catching up in his body—he agreed.

            Then, it was a week: a week of looking out for the two whilst also switching watching duties with the straw hat; but most of the time: you stayed there not wanting to switch with Sanji nor Nami as you hold Zoro’s hand muttering and wishing that he should wake up.

--

            Usopp rushes in the hallway and knocked on the room where you stayed—with a loud voice he announced that Zoro and Luffy are awake. You two immediately rush into the room—your pounding heartbeat and the ringing in your ear didn’t stop you—he’s awake, Zoro is awake—you kept on repeating on your head—the two of them are alive and okay.

            Hesitation floods in your mind as you stood by the door but soon was replaced when you hear cheers and a familiar laugh coming out from the room—as Usopp opened the door: there you saw him and Luffy.

            You didn’t know when or how but Chopper was clinging and trying to stop Zoro as he chugs a huge bottle of sake. A smile escaped your lips as Luffy called your name in such glee, with a last chug, Zoro finally locked eyes with you: saints, he missed you. You gave him a relieved smile but somehow covered when Hiyori placed a bottle of sake in front of him in which he groaned. He moved the sake aside and watched you talk to Luffy—he should speak to you­­—but before he can speak, he felt hands of Hiyori creeping from behind.

            “You were out for a week.” Brook explained as he drank and ate next to the crew.

            “We aren’t dirty though.” Zoro stated as he eyed his hands.

            “I cleaned you up.” Hiyori announced from behind him, earning a choke from Yamato, as Yamoto looks at you, as you catch his look—you chuckled in your cup as you drank sake. As Sanji and Zoro banters about Hiyori—you laughed at the sight—everything is okay, Wano is free, the crew are laughing, and Zoro is okay.

            “We should have the banquet, today!” Momonosuke announces.

            ---As the entire people cheers, Zoro locked eyes with you once again, as you raised a cup signaling him for a cheer in which he nodded and gave you a cheeky smirk. For the time being, Nami have decided to take a bath, inviting you, Robin, Hiyori, and the others as well.

            You leave the room as the boys continue to drink and eat—that until Zoro noticed that you’re no longer in the room he’s in—he stood up and left the room while also removing the bandages on his body because it restricts his movement as he walked.

--

            You were preparing for the bath when you entered your room until you felt a familiar arm holding you from behind. It didn’t make you flinch nor scared, somehow, it comforted you. You hummed at the person who’s hugging you from behind.

            You felt his chest on your back he holds you tighter. “You left early.”

            “Nami invited us for a bath.”

            “You didn’t talk to me.”

            “You were busy drinking.”

            He then let you go from his grasp and hold your shoulder to make you look at him. “Thanks for cleaning me up.” You smiled softly as you eyed him.

            “Hiyori did.” I teased innocently.

            “She did but you did it every day…”

            “How can you say so?” He then holds your hand and placed it on his cheeks. “I know how your hand feels when you hold me, woman.”

            As he placed your hand on your cheeks—he leaned in at the contact. “I’ve missed you, Zo.” You whispered lowly as you pulled him into an embrace, you settled in his chest as you listen to his heartbeat, beating pretty fast.

            He hummed as you said those words as he fiddled with the strand of your hair as you hugged him. “That was pretty dumb, you know.”

            That left him confused. “Law and Sanji told me what happened—that was dumb, Zoro.” He pulled away from the hug and noticed that some tears are threatening to fall from your eyes.

            He wiped them away as he waited you to continue what you’re about to say. “You almost died.” In that moment, his heartbeat begins to beat faster: you were that worried.

            “That was dumb because the way Law told me, it seems like you were ready to die---”

            “I wanted to protect Luffy and you—”

            His heart breaks as you shook your head. “Protect yourself too. I know you care about the crew but I don’t want to face this again—the fear of you not waking up, like in Thriller Bark? I know you don’t want to lose anyone but—I don’t want to lose you too.” Your hand shakes as you cup his cheeks again.

            He grips your wrist and gave your wrist a ghost kiss, uttering a soft whisper that he can only hear. As he kissed your wrist, he just stared at you. He kissed your hand, fingertips; he kept staring at you.

            As he looked at you with a soft gaze, he pulled you closer to him.

            “I’m sorry.” He only follows Luffy’s orders but—somehow, even you’re not the captain—he follows you. “I’ll get stronger so, you won’t feel like you will lose me again.” He kissed your temples and wiped your tears, as you nodded.

            He stared at you for a while and his eyes lingered in your lips. Without a warning, he placed his lips into yours as you taste the sake he drunk from before. He hummed in your lips as you reciprocate the kiss, he placed his hand on your nape as he was eager to pull you closer to him if that was possible, while your hands roam around his body.

            His chest, neck, abdomen, arms, and biceps—it was explored by you—he pulled away as he settles his lips on your neck muttering your name while he does. Your hand fumbles his hair, as you hold him closer. He kisses and left marks on your neck, while indulge himself with your scent.

            You tilted your head as you gave him more space as his hand traveled in your kimono, pulling it down softly. He pulled away from your neck as his hand travels in your kimono—slowly untying its knot. He whispered your name as low as he could: “Can I…?”

            Your hand travels into his nape as you nod. “Use your words, doll.”

            “Yes…Zo.” You hummed as he let his hand let loose of the knots in your kimono. “I fucking missed you.” He whispered lowly as his lips travel from your neck towards your collarbone.

            “I was just here, Zo.” You felt goosebumps as his hand travels every inch of your body. As his breaths shallows and his lips relaxes on your collarbone and chest. You whimpered his name so low; he’s the only person hearing it. He let his clothes fall on the floor as he lay you down on the futon. But he clicks his tongue as he felt a sharp pain on his chest in which you immediately pulled away.

            “We don’t have to---” He stared at you with flushed cheeks and half lidded eyes: as his eyes travels at everything that is you, he groaned and shook his head as he grabbed you by the hips switching your positions—making you straddle him. He smirked as he saw you on top of him with pride as he pulled you down for a kiss.

            “I fucking want you.” He holds your hips as he moved you in a rhythm. He hummed as you gasped at the pace. “Been looking for you when I woke up.” You felt him so close, despite the small clothes keeping you two apart.

            “You sure it wasn’t the sake?” You teased as you stopped your hips.

            “Take it off…” He whimpered.

            You never thought for a million of years that the pirate hunter would whimper under you—in hearing his plea: you take everything off your body including his: for a moment, the world seemed to stop as your hand travels into his new wounds. Your hand shakes as you saw new stitches.

            Before you can say anything—he grabbed your hand that was tracing his new wounds. “Eyes up here, doll.” He said into your fingertips—but unknown emotion filled you as your lips find his wounds, you carefully kiss them as blush continue to travel around Zoro’s body.

            “Oi…” He continues to repeat as you kiss his wounds. His gaze locks into you as you kissed him on his lower abdomen. He gave you a knowing look: “Come kiss me, woman.”

            So, you did. His hand travels into your clit as he continues to kiss you—as he pulled away: he stared at your expression whilst you stare at him, breathless, blushing mess, and muttering his name every chance you get. As he finds the right time to slip his finger inside you and it made you gasp. “Fuck—so, fucking warm.” He whispered in your ear as his fingers continues to mark your inside.

            He was slow in pace as if he was memorizing your sound, voice, expression, and your look. He kissed your temple as he feels you tightening up. “Great job…baby.” There are times where he lets himself be vulnerable and call you names, he thought he would never use.

            But as your hips meet his hands—he groaned as he moved his hand in a pace where you find yourself gripping his biceps—with one last move, you came undone into his hand as he kissed your temple; “My girl…” he whispered as he felt you shiver in his touch—he pulled his hand away and he kisses his hand while staring at you.

            You smiled and kissed him in his lips: tasting yourself in his mouth. “Better than any sake…” He whispered with a smirk as he continues to kiss your lips. He stared at you as his hand take hold of your hips once more as you aligned yourself into him—he slides his cock between your folds, he felt warm and you felt full.

            “Relax…” You didn’t know how or why or maybe because of the orgasm you had earlier but at the same time he felt bigger. As you settle into his cock, you stayed there as he looks at you. “Babe…” He called you like a prayer—without saying anything, you knew what he wanted. He flipped your over so, he’s now on top of you.

            “I got you—relax, doll.” He whispered in your ear as he stared at you. You pulled him for a kiss as he moves his body to meet yours. “Move…” He takes a short and slow thrust while he stared at your expression which let a small and deep growl out of him.

            As his impatient character caught up to him—he starts to get faster; your head thrown against the futon as you moan his name is if that’s the only word you know. Your hands find his shoulder as you pulled him closer. You’re too perfect for him, your walls were made for him—he finds your neck as he continues to suck and bite on it as you hold onto his shoulder as his make your inside fit for him and only him. At this moment, your name was the only thing leaving his mouth as breathless pleas, whimpers, sound of skin, and moans left the room—tears were stinging in your eye, Zoro noticed it he stopped with the fear that maybe he was hurting you but—it’s different, he saw your tears and you were smiling, you pulled him again for a hug but this time your hips met his. “I really thought I lost you.” You whispered in your embrace.

            That was his call—he holds you’re his hips as your legs wrapped around his waist—as his name left your mouth in a high-pitched whimper; he leaned in and kiss you once more. As he felt your walls claiming his cock again—he knew you were close and so was he; he reaches for your clit and move it with his thrust—without a second, you’re bound for the second orgasm from the hands of the swordsman. Your legs tighten up at his waist, as you arch your back and you feel yourself shakes. Your walls tighten around him as you keep saying his name.

            As you keep saying his name, Roronoa leaned in and kissed your shoulder—for a moment, he swore, he wants to keep you like this; only like this. He fills you up with his cock as his bite into your shoulder; he twitched inside—but he didn’t pull out, reliving and enjoying the warmth settling inside you. His heaving chest and your breathless state; you stared at each other.

            When you two catch your breaths, he pulls out as the both of you hiss at the loss contact. He kissed your inner thighs, chest, hand, head, and lips: uttering a thank you. His hand caress your inner thighs softly, as he kisses your temple over and over again.

            Before you can say anything—he leans down and kisses your lips as you smiled at the kiss. “Still better than sake?” You teased at his kiss.

            He nodded and kissed you deeper. “Still better.” You noticed that one of his stitches on his biceps were getting red—you’re scared that he can get infection— but he just laughed and pulled you into his chest. “I’ll get Chopper to check on it—in the meantime, let’s stay here.” His hands play on your hair as you listen to his heartbeat.

            “I was supposed to be in the bath with Nami.”

            “Hmmm…You could’ve push me away.”

            “You’re lucky that I like you.”

            “I know.” He nodded as he heaved a deep sigh. “Robin told me you didn’t went to sleep, when you’re looking out for me while I was out—don’t do that again, okay, doll?”

            “Just promise me you won’t get yourself killed.” He nodded as he placed your hand on his chest and gently kiss it.           

            “You always kiss my hand…why is that?”

            “I just like it. My hands are like filled with wounds and yours are soft, warm…” He kissed it again. “Mine…” He whispered. “You always hold me so softly.” He admitted.

            You looked at him as you rest your chin on his chest. “Any person should be hold softly and nicely.” He chuckled and shook his head. “With these wound and the swords, I highly doubt I’ll be considered as a person.”

            “What makes you think that…?” You frown.

            “I’m a monster, woman, so, sometimes it surprises me that you stay—"

            “Why do you think you’re a monster?” This time you sat up—he looked at you with a surprise look on his face a parallel to your caring look as his eyes travels on the marks he left in your body; he placed his hand on your shoulder.

            “I don’t see any monster.” You hold his hand that is placed on his shoulder. He always kisses your hand—so, this time, you kissed his.

            “I only see the person that I love.” You kissed his hand, in a delicate manner—as if he was a porcelain glass, a gift from above; he felt his eyes sting as he cleared his throat fighting the blush trying to settle on his cheek.

            “The things you me feel woman—The things you make me feel.” He muttered as he pulled you down for a kiss. You smiled at the kiss as he places his hands on your cheeks, without a sign or a signal; he muttered those three words and eight letters with a small tint of blush on his cheeks.

            “I love you too, Roronoa.”

-- FIN

holy shit--my first ever smut; if it sucks--i'm sorry :,> zoro the man that you are! trafalgar law is next and it's fluff--wano arc has me gripping all story ideas lmaooo

⚘ masterlist 1 | 2 | 3

[eureka-its-zico]

Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 3

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention.  

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, frenemies to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) eventual smut

Words: 12.6+

A/N: Guys. Idk where to start, but this chapter needs a warning because it is big and beefy. I didn’t want the 1.03-1.04 story arc to be dragged out further into 4 chapters and, because of that, this chapter exists. I truly hope it is one that you enjoy. It took a lot of time and love. So please, get out some 🍿 cause it’s going to be a ride. P.S. To everyone who has liked, commented, reblogged, and sent me messages about Chaos in Their Bones: thank you. You have all made this such a wonderful experience and a fun one. I hope it continues to be one you enjoy 🖤 Much Love, Jenn

Chapter 1 Previous Next

So far Operation Petty was getting off to a rough start. 

Your original plan of stealing every glass of wine Zoro poured seemed like a good one. Golf claps for everyone. Except, that good idea slowly began to disappear five glasses ago. 

Unfortunately for you, and to the dismay of the entire table, you were a giggling mess. 

After the sixth glass you were lucky you could even see straight. It wasn’t until after Zoro poured the next glass and slid it over to you the wheels in your head finally added all the small clues you’d missed. Zoro had let you think you’d stolen glass after glass of his wine. When in reality, he’d just been trying to get you drunk. 

Zoro was already on his fourth bottle of wine and still seemed able to function like a person. 

You leaned, not so gracefully, over to his side of the table. A “Psst,” hiccuping out of you to garner his attention. You knew you had it. He was just hiding a majority of his face inside the glass. 

Just to make sure though - “Psst!” 

“Ugh, Doc, we can all hear you,” Usopp said somewhere behind you. 

You waved him off. Your eyes honed in on both Zoro’s. 

“What do you want?” He hummed. 

“Hey, Mosshead,” you snapped. That got his head to swivel an inch away from the safety of the glass. “You did this on purpose.”

You were leaning so far forward your cheek was almost flush with your arm. Your fingers wiggled near him and you watched as his eyes darted down to watch them before side-eyeing you. 

“Yup,” he answered, sharply pronouncing the p. “You want to steal my wine as payback, well I can drink you under the table.” You weren’t expecting him to drop the glass and move towards you. The movement wasn’t huge, but he was closer than you anticipated and it made you scared to blink. “I can be petty too.” 

Fuck. 

He was so close - almost kissably close and - No! Why are you thinking of kissing at a time like this? When Zoro’s close enough you could see the sun kissed freckles that dusted over the top of his cheeks and nose. The playful glint in his eyes that brightened them to shine like mini constellations. 

With a devious smirk sliding across his lips, Zoro regarded you one last time before he straightened up. His hand reaching out to take back the glass he’d previously sat down and brought it back up to his lips. 

“You are diabolical,” you huffed. 

When you went to straighten up, you felt your world tilt. You were going to need - “Can I get some water, please?” 

You needed to sober up and fast. Inwardly, you could already hear your inner monologue being set up to chastise your childish behavior. You were so worried about Zoro and annoying him that it was all you focused on. 

I’m not here for him. 

You’d come with Usopp with the goal in mind to help Kaya. That was who you’d come here for and who you still had every intention to help. The plan to do so was still there, but somehow within the last few hours you’d allowed yourself to be distracted by a pretty face. 

A soft cough from Kaya’s direction was all the clarity necessary to get your head back on straight. Or as straight as it could be in your current state. No more Zoro. No more looking at him, talking to him, looking at him-

You could sense him moving off to your right, but you were not going to look. Nope. Most definitely not going to look, but was your head tilting? 

Drunk you seriously needed to work on some self-control. 

You were heavily lost in your head again. So lost that you weren’t sure how many times Luffy or anyone else attempted to bring you into a conversation. It wasn’t until a gentle hand on your shoulder jolted you back into the present. 

Looking to your left, you saw Usopp waiting for you to answer him. His concern etched into every scrunch of his face. 

“Luffy asked how long you’ve been a doctor,” he offered slowly, as if he spoke too fast he’d lose you again. 

“Well, technically, I’m a doctor-in-training.”

“So, not a real doctor.”

Of course, Zoro just had to butt in. You still weren’t going to look at him. 

“I am a doctor. Naan has taught me over the years how to handle every illness and broken bone that has come through this village. I think one of the biggest things she’s taught me is that sometimes kindness can be the strongest medicine and other times defending those who can’t defend themselves is a bigger responsibility.” 

“Wow,” Luffy smiled in response. “You must have helped a lot of people. Your grandma must be really proud of you.” 

Luffy looked so…genuine. The very thought of you going out of your way to help others seemed to make him regard you differently. While the smile on his face wasn’t expansive and filled with its usual childlike mischief, it held one of praise. As if it was a rare thing for someone to have the drive to help another person. Maybe over the last decade or so that might have been true, but Naan didn’t raise you to turn a blind eye to those in need. 

You couldn’t help but respond to Luffy’s smile with one of your own. Although, you hoped it didn’t wilt as you prepared yourself with your reply. 

“She’s an orphan,” Sham interjected as she set down a dinner plate that was intricately decorated with fish and vegetables. “Usopp too. Isn’t that right?” 

Not true. Orphan meant that there had been no one there for you. No family to help take care of you when you needed protection, and while Naan wasn’t your real grandma she was family because she chose to be. 

You dropped your hands down into your lap and could feel your fingers curl into your palms. 

“What does it matter if they’re orphans or not?” Your eyes narrowed in on Nami. She sat beside Luffy, opposite of Usopp, and her cool gaze was trained on Sham. She watched closely while Sham placed the next plate hastily down in front of Usopp. “I’m curious to hear your answer.” 

“Forgive my staff, Miss,” Klahadore stepped in. “Sham spoke out of turn when it was not her place.” 

“I’m sure she meant no harm, Klahadore.”

Kaya smiled up at him and he responded with a smile of his own. You hated how Kaya was always apologizing for everyone around her, especially for those who didn’t deserve it. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Nami continued. “If she didn’t mean to say it she would’ve kept her mouth shut.” 

“It’s not that big of a deal, guys,” Usopp offered. 

You weren’t surprised to see him looking at Kaya. The two of them shared a small smile between them and it took everything in you not to lightly smack him on the arm. If Kaya wanted to be peacemaker, Usopp would do everything in his power to play along. Anything Kaya wanted Usopp would make sure he did everything in his power to make sure it happened. 

What felt worse was that Sham’s attempt at an insult did bother you. It was meant to remind you that they considered you nothing, which was odd coming from waitstaff and a butler. 

A doctor to pirates was about as valuable as gold. 

“Yeah, not a big deal,” you mumbled. Your fingers riddled with your fork; debating if eating Buchi’s food was worth the risk. With your luck they probably poisoned it. “I do hope I make her proud someday, Luffy. I still have a lot to learn.”

Luffy was already a mouthful deep into his plate and wasn’t showing any reservation in taking another hardy bite. Thank god he waited to swallow first before he replied, “The fact you came here to help Kaya tells me all I need to know. You’re a good person, Doc.”

“That’s very kind of you, Luffy. Thank you.”

God, I will not cry right now. 

Why did random words of kindness - from a stranger - matter so much? Luffy didn’t owe you any act of kindness or to bother being so nice to you or Usopp. Yet, here he was being an actual ball of sunshine. You knew dozens of people in this town who disregarded Usopp and his stories. Who grumbled and complained when he started talking. Luffy had only treated him with respect: he listened to his stories no matter how bat shit crazy they must have sounded. 

You knew Luffy and his friends would eventually leave but for the time they were here (besides Zoro) you were grateful. 

“It says a lot about who you are. You’re a good person.” 

You felt your smile wilt a little as you watched a few flecks of food fall out of his mouth as he spoke. Flying food aside, you were really starting to count yourself lucky that Luffy and his friends ended up in your sleepy little village. 

Sham was still depositing plates of tonight’s only special when you heard Kaya ask if she could try some. She’d barely finished asking before Klahadore was there beside her. 

“I’m sorry that won’t be possible, Miss Kaya. You know how certain foods affect your constitution. Here,” he waved his hand free from his chest ushering in Buchi. “Buchi has prepared your special soup.”

“Why is it blue?” You blanched. 

When all eyes turned to regard you, you realized you hadn’t said that in your head. The wine was seriously starting to make your body too comfortable. 

“It’s made with a special fruit,” Buchi growled back. 

“What’s the name of the fruit? I’ve skowered this entire island top to bottom with Naan and have never seen a fruit that color here.” 

“It’s imported.”

“From where-“

“It’s not important where her food comes from,” Klahadore interrupted. Each word was more forced than the last. “All that matters is it helps Miss Kaya.” 

“If that was true then why is she still sick?”

Klahadore’s eyes were practically shooting daggers into your skull. You were willing to bet a million berry’s that if he got you alone in a room, you wouldn’t be making it out. That thought only seemed to ignite something inside you that you’d been pushing down for months.

You rolled your tongue along your bottom teeth as you struggled to reign in your temper. The wine made your blood warm and fuzzy, but now you felt as if you were boiling alive. Your legs were bouncing uncontrollably underneath the table and your hands were curling into fists-

Suddenly a hiccup of a gasp lodged itself in your throat. The tip of a shoe was pressed gently against your ankle and the tip of said shoe belonged to the very moss-headed oaf who’d been plaguing your every waking minute. Yes, you said you weren’t going to look at him, but you didn’t expect him to touch you. Even just this small amount. 

When you did glance at him, Zoro didn’t return your stare. His eyes were trained solely on Klahadore with a slight draw of his brow confirming your suspicions. Zoro was starting to notice something was off with Klahadore too and was warning you. 

“Kaya it’s your birthday. You should be able to eat whatever you want.” 

Nami’s soft voice cut through the tension and brought Klahadore back to the present. His eyes glazed back with mock servitude, but you’d seen it. Maybe now so had Zoro. Your eyes were only for Klahadore as you watched the exchange between him and Nami. You loved the way she was sticking up for Kaya and the challenge in her eyes as she stared him down-

“You need to relax.” 

Fuck. 

You struggled to keep a shudder from making its way down your spine but you weren’t so lucky in keeping the soft gasp from trickling out from your lips. The husk of his voice was unnecessarily sexy. 

Slowly, you turned to look to your right and found Zoro casually sitting back in his seat. His eyes trained forward and his hands took his silverware as if he hadn’t just whispered across your skin like sin. 

You couldn’t think past what had just happened. It didn’t matter how much you tried to formulate a sentence. Your brain was just not having it. You could do this. You were an intelligent woman who was not easily swayed. 

“What?” 

A masterful reply. 

Zoro looked at you from his peripherals before placing the napkin down into his lap. 

“I would stop antagonizing him before he kicks you out.”

And here you thought he was just worried about you. 

“I’m a doctor and Kaya needs me.” 

“Has she told you that? Has she physically looked at you and specifically asked for you to save her or do you just need to feel important?”

“Why are you such an asshole?!”

You spoke every word through gritted teeth. The anger that Zoro erased by killing your brain cells, which now felt like an insult to yourself, was stoked back to life. Your body singed with the need to get a hold of him because - who the fuck talked to people like this? 

What you hadn’t expected was for that anger - god, that hurt - to soak deeply into your words. Each one raised and sharp with the intention he knew you meant it. 

Zoro didn’t respond. He just started eating his fish. You suddenly didn’t feel hungry. 

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t want to look at Usopp. Not when he sounded like that. What would happen if you did? Would you cry or scream that you weren’t? The panic you’d been shoving down the last few hours was beginning to weasel its way to the surface. You were running out of options and ideas on how you could help. What if Zoro was right? What if Kaya didn’t need you and you’d allowed yourself to be dragged into a story that wasn’t real?

The thought alone was enough to make you look at your best friend and the panic was replaced with guilt. The shame was enough to make the first sharp prick of tears threaten to spill free from your eyes. Usopp didn’t deserve your anger or your doubt. He may have told a lot of stories, but he was good. His heart was pure. You weren’t worried about whether or not you smiled at him if he could tell you were lying. You knew somehow Usopp would understand your frustration. 

“Yeah, Usopp everything is alright.” 

He side-eyed Zoro over your shoulder before he brought his attention back to the room. Clearing his throat, he looked over at Luffy and asked, “Luffy, isn’t there something you wanted to talk to Kaya about?”

“Ah, yes. Usopp tells me that you own the whole shipyard.” 

Kaya smiled gracefully in reply, before she looked away. A sadness creeping into her voice. 

“Well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard, and Merry’s been running the business since…well since they passed.” You watched as Luffy followed her words and glanced over to the man sitting at the table. A courtesy raise of his glass to salute the dead. For a split second, all the joy in Luffy was replaced by something that didn’t seem to fit. A melancholy that didn’t belong. “But all that’s about to change. At midnight tonight I will become sole owner.” 

“Ah well, that’s great because we want to buy a ship from you.”

Now this was the Luffy you’d grown to know. All smiles and cheerfulness like a rainbow as he lifted his champagne glass and took a sip. 

“I see,” Kaya responded in kind. “Usopp mentioned that you were sailors.” 

“Nope, not sailors. Pirates.” 

Your head spun sharply back in his direction. He seemed so happy about what he just said. Like it wasn’t the worst kind of omission that could get you all killed or arrested by the local Marines. Usopp definitely had a reason to be choking on his own drink. 

You glanced at Nami and back at Zoro and both of them, respectfully, looked worried as shit. 

“Pirates?”

“Yep. We haven’t sailed together for very long, but we have already defeated an evil clown, raided a marine base, and taken down a Marine captain with an axe for a hand!”

“Usopp, what is he talking about?” You whispered sharply over to him. 

Usopp was still covered in his own spit as he furiously tried to wipe it off. The worry evident in the fine creases in his forehead as he glanced around the room. 

“I don’t-“

“These sound a lot like your adventures, Usopp,” Kaya mentioned lovingly. 

“Yeah. It’s crazy.”

Kaya thought that Luffy was joking! While you were sure Luffy meant what he was saying you were also incredibly confused. Pirates weren’t nice. The ones you’d met a few times had forced Naan to help them. They’d been rough, mean, and downright nasty. Luffy was none of that. 

“Oh yeah, and we are just getting started!” Unexpectedly, Luffy stood up in his chair and began to stand on the table. 

“What are you doing?” Klahadore snapped as he came forth from the shadows. “Get down from there this instant!”

“Being a pirate has been my dream for as long as I can remember and I’m finally going to make it a reality. We are heading off to the grand line where even more adventures await us.” With an eager smile gracing his lips, drink in hand, Luffy began to walk his way down to where Kaya sat. “At the end of the journey I’m gonna find the ultimate treasure, the One Piece and become King of The Pirates.”

When he got to Kaya Luffy stopped and took one last sip of his drink before handing it off to Klahadore. You would honestly pay to have this moment replay in a time loop, it was so damn good. Besides the fact that, you know, they were pirates. 

“Kaya, you have a beautiful ship out there. A caravel with a sheep figurehead. It spoke to me. That is the ship we need to follow our dreams. I promise we will take care of it. Maintain it. Because a ship isn’t just a vessel; it’s also a home.” 

It felt like such a genuine moment. Luffy didn’t appear to be like every pirate you’ve ever met. They were usually selfish, ugly, and cruel men who found pleasure in others misfortunes or creating them themselves. Even now, after his confession, it wasn’t the vibe you got from Luffy, and that’s what made it all the more confusing. 

“That will be quite enough!” Your body gave a jump in surprise as Klahadore screamed. His body thundering over to stand next to Kaya. “I should’ve known Usopp would bring rift raft to our doorstep.”

“Klahadore it’s okay-“ 

Kaya tried to defend them, but a violent coughing fit cut her short. Usopp edged toward the end of his seat noticeably wanting to get up and go to her. The both of you knew if he made any moves right now, unfortunately, who knew what this butler would do. 

“Now look at what you’ve done. You’ve all upset Miss Kaya. I want you all out of here, at once!”

“No,” Kaya interjected. “Let them stay the night.” 

“Very well, Miss Kaya. But they are out of here first thing in the morning.” 

Stay the night? 

“Fuck,” you huffed under your breathe. 

You had no intention of staying in this manor with any of them. You turned to tell Usopp you should both head back and noticed the way his puppy dog eyes followed Kaya as Klahadore led her away. He wasn’t going to leave her and maybe that meant you shouldn’t either. 

“Well, that went well.”

Luffy really needed to learn to read the room. 

You waited for Buchi and Sham to follow after their master before you pushed back your chair and did your best not to trip on any of the tulle at your feet. You needed to get out of this dress immediately. It wasn’t because you were much of a fighter. No, that wasn’t you. However, you did enjoy running from danger and this dress made it damn near impossible. 

“Where are you going?” 

Luffy and his kaleidoscope of happiness. You wondered what it was like to always be so optimistic. 

“I am going back to my room and probably leaving.” 

“What?” Usopp turned to look at you. “Why are you leaving.”

“Yeah. What was all that holier than thou talk about helping her,” Zoro cut in. 

“Oh, what the hell does it matter to you, anyways?” You snapped. “First, you insult me for trying to help and now you insult me, again, for leaving.”

“Cowards give up when it gets hard.”

Was it physically possible to blow smoke out of your nose? It felt like it as your eyes narrowed in on him. He didn’t even have the decency to look at you. 

“Zoro, you got a real stick up your ass,” Nami huffed as she grabbed her glass and took a drink. 

“That’s not the real reason she wants to leave” he shot back, eyes on Nami. “Is it? It’s because she heard the word, “Pirates.” 

“That’s crazy,” Luffy laughed around the words. “We’re good guys.” 

“Pirates are not good guys,” you snapped at him. It was your turn to feel like an asshole as you looked between them. Luffy noticeably hurt. “I have met plenty of pirates when they came looking for Naan and her services. She hid me every single time, because she was scared of what they might do. If they would take me. Doctors are more valuable to pirates than gold. That was the lesson she taught me and I learned it well.”

“Pirates have been to Syrup Village?” 

Usopp didn’t seem to grasp the fact that they hadn’t come raiding and he’d have to ring the bell for real. No one knew how close pirates really were to Syrup Village. It was one of the reasons why Naan’s home was hidden so deep within the bamboo forest. 

“Yes, Usopp.”

You needed to get away. You were tired - drained - from feeling like you needed to apologize to them. You didn’t know what's real anymore and maybe you were being a coward. Maybe you were just tired of being wrong. 

With one last tug on the tulle, you moved away from the table and gave them one quick glance before you headed out towards the dining room doors. 

————————————-

It’d been over an hour since you’d made your less than graceful exit from the dining room. Even after getting back into the comfort of your own clothes, it didn’t keep the nagging feeling that you’d been an asshole from clawing its way to the surface. 

You had been an asshole. 

You’d been pacing the confines of your suite chewing on your nails until you were positive you must have gnawed them into dust. There was no denying Kaya’s home was beautiful. It was everything you could imagine money could buy in the form of creature comforts, but there was no happiness within its walls. 

The room you’d been given was more than what you and Naan lived in now. When you’d first been shown inside, you’d felt silly having all this space and having no idea what to do with it. It was all lovely. From the four poster bed with intricate wooden detailing to the velvet curtains that ran the length of the wall that held a window overlooking the garden. The wallpaper, you were positive, held gold within its designs. 

It wasn’t the fanciest, but you would take your small home with Naan then stay in a place like this. Speaking of home…

It would be so easy for you to turn tail and run. To go out the front door and never come back but what would you tell Naan? That you never got to see Kaya? That you were unnecessarily rude to a group of people who’d been nothing but friendly (except one) all because their captain called them pirates? 

Coward. That’s what Zoro called you. The worst part was maybe he wasn’t wrong. So, ninety-five percent of your plan had gone to shit. You at least still had five percent of it. 

Neither Luffy, Nami, or Zoro did anything that warranted your hasty judgment, and nothing they did reflected what you’d been exposed to all your life. What you hated the most was that you could feel the need for an apology brewing in your gut, and if you didn’t do it you would never get any sleep. 

After you’d gotten dressed and strapped on much more comfortable shoes, you made your way out of your room and back inside the maze of hallways. You were closing in on the main corridor when the sound of a door opening made you stop in your tracks. 

What if it was Sham? You prepared yourself to see her unpleasant face when orange hair wrapped in an orange designed bandanna crept out into the hall. 

“Nami?”

She startled as you called her name and turned to face you. The sound of clanking caught your attention and your eyes followed the sound to a very filled pillowcase in her right hand. 

You quirked an eyebrow as you asked, “Doing some spring cleaning?”

You watched as her usual friendly demeanor changed into squared shoulders and eyes filled with defiance. It made you feel like you were about to embark on a fight you didn’t realize you were having. 

“You want to hurl some more generic insults my way? Tell me how much of a bad person I am-“

Now you were raising your hands up but not in surrender. It was an attempt to quiet her down. You’d already been berating yourself about words, and the power they held to equally heal or destroy someone. How many times had Naan chastised you about being reckless with your words? Reminding you that the things spoken can be enough to heal or mend hearts and bodies, but can also easily break them. 

“A healer is more than just someone mending a body, girl. Sometimes we heal by listening. Giving dying men the forgiveness they seek.” 

And here you were slinging verbal canon balls at these people. 

I’m such an asshole

“Nami! Nami! While I hundred percent deserve that, it’s not what I was going to do.” She didn’t seem like she believed you in the slightest. That was fair. “I was actually on my way to try and find you guys.”

“Why? So, you could tell us some more about how you hate pirates?”

“Okay. That’s fair.”

“Oh, I think that’s more than fair. You are not the only one who hates pirates or holds the lottery for the shittest interactions with them.”

Again, your hands were up. Why did this have to feel like you were with a lion inside of a cage? One wrong move and you were sure she was going to bite your head off. 

“I never said that, ok? Did I have a shit reaction to finding out that you were pirates? Yes. That’s why I’m here. I came to apologize to all of you. You defended me tonight at dinner. You didn’t have to do that.”

All the anger that swirled in the gray of her irises began to soften. Good. At least she was no longer looking ready to turn you into literal sashimi. 

“Yeah, we’ll, she was acting like a real bitch.”

“Agreed,” you hummed, “but that’s beside the point. You didn’t have to say anything but you did and how did I repay that? By being an asshole so on that note: Nami, I’m sorry.”

Why was she just staring? You thought your heart was going to explode out of your chest at any minute. Nami wasn’t smiling or appeared angry or upset. She was completely stone faced and you were desperately trying not to fidget. 

“I think that’s the first time anyone’s apologized to me before.” 

“That sucks.”

God, you really did have a way with words. Nami was equally as shocked at your bluntness, but in a way that sent a warm smile to lift the edges of your lips. Nami sputtered out a laugh as she placed her hands on her hips. The motion and sound of clinking whatever was in there reminding you both that she was currently doing something illegal. 

“Are you going to say anything? Report me to Klahadore?” 

Even just the sound of his name was enough to drop the smile from your face. A sneer replacing it as you replied, “God no. I’d rather just let you steal than say anything to that jackal.”

“You and the waitstaff seem to be big fans of each other,” Nami teased. 

It earned her a laugh as you looked down the hallway. Just to be safe since you were both equally unwanted in the manor and, well, Nami had a pillowcase full of the house goodies. 

“I suppose you could say that.”

You stuck your hand between you both and waited patiently for her to take it. Nami regarded your hand like it belonged to a sea monster. 

“Friends?”

“I don’t have any friends.”

Her words were soft and direct. As if she’d come to terms with being alone for a while now. You didn’t pull your hand away and let it fall back to your side. You kept it suspended between the two of you, and patiently waited for her to feel comfortable enough to take it. 

“Well, at least now you’ll know you have one in Syrup village.” 

A spark of something ignited in her eyes and whatever it was your words made her think of, it wasn’t something happy. When a small smile curled her lips it didn’t reach her eyes. They stayed distant; mourning something you may never be made aware of. 

You felt your breath catch in your throat as Nami reached out her hand and gently grabbed yours. You waited to secure your fingers around her hand, just in case she had second thoughts. When she didn’t pull away you allowed yourself to fully smile at her, which earned you one back. 

“Where were you headed to, anyways?”

You both released each other, and you started slowly moving around her to get to the corridor. 

“I was going to look around for Luffy. I need to apologize to him too.”

“Check the kitchen. If you’re going to find him anywhere it’s going to be in there.”

“Thank you. You just saved me some time. See you later, Nami.”

You were a few feet away when she called your name. You turned halfway to see her still standing in the same spot you’d left her. 

“Are you going to apologize to Zoro?”

“I’m still debating,” you answered truthfully.

You aren’t sure what Nami expected you to say, but apparently that hadn’t been it. She immediately erupted into laughter as she turned and headed to the next room. 

You really hoped she wasn’t going to get caught by Klahadore or anyone else. You were positive it would get him all riled up and send him screeching for the marines to come. Maybe even throw in some insults, because that was just the kind of man he was. 

It took you longer than you wanted to locate the kitchen and you were considering bringing it up to Kaya about putting signs up around the manor. Ones that let you know with arrows which way to go. Why was it so easy to get lost in such a big house? You were still trying to come up with a way to bring up that little suggestion when you heard Usopp’s voice coming from the kitchen. Usopp was there too? Your curiosity spurred you forward - almost at a sprint - until you heard another voice grumble from the kitchen. 

“You don’t think she like - like likes me, do you?”

What kind of conversation were you walking into? You rounded the corner to find Usopp and Zoro staring at one another. Usopp looked hopeful while Zoro regarded him with as much emotion as a rock. 

“You’re asking the wrong guy.”

“I would second that, Usopp.”

At the sound of your voice all eyes turned to you. 

“Doc! Hey! What brings you to the kitchen?” 

Luffy sounded like his usual happy-go-lucky self. He didn’t seem to be holding a grudge or feelings about what had happened only an hour ago between you. All Luffy seemed to care about was the leftover appetizers and being amongst friends. 

How could you ever think he was anything like other pirates? 

His cheerfulness was contagious and soon you found yourself making your way around to the stairs. Luffy waves you down to join him with an appetizer in hand. 

“You didn’t seem to eat at the dinner. You should try some of these. They’re delicious!”

“Are you sure there is any left?”

“Oh, I have some in my pockets if you want those.” 

He really was digging through his pocket to pull out some appetizers. You didn’t know why it surprised you so much but you couldn’t keep your laughter from bubbling to the surface. 

“It’s okay, Luffy. I appreciate your willingness to share, but I’ll pass for now.” 

“You sure? These are really good!” 

Just to prove his point, Luffy popped whatever he pulled from his pocket into his mouth. His fingers noticeably tinted with a pink hue from it melting. 

“Pretty sure.” 

You snagged a stool on the opposite side of Luffy, which unfortunately kept you on the same side as Zoro. Who was actively staring daggers into your skull. 

“I actually came to find you so I could apologize.” 

“Apologize?”

“For how I acted at dinner.”

“Where’s my apology?” 

Zoro’s husky voice cut through your good mood and instantly made you bitter. You turned in your seat to look at him, who was opening and closing drawers every two seconds. 

“I’m still debating on if you deserve one.” 

Zoro had been opening his next set of cupboard doors when he stopped short. His head tilting the slightest to glance at you over your shoulder. You waited for him to make another smart ass comment and when it didn’t come, well, color you surprised. All you got was a tick of his jaw before he turned back to opening and shutting doors. 

“What is he doing?” You asked Usopp. 

“He’s looking for something to drink,” Luffy offered up in between his next bite.

Where the hell did he find a chicken leg? You fixed yourself to sit more comfortably on the stool and placed your satchel on the table. You looked between the three men again and remembered what it was they’d been talking about before. 

“So, what were you guys talking about?” 

Usopp scratched the back of his neck and looked anywhere but at you. What was making him so nervous? You’d been friends since you were kids. There literally couldn’t be anything that embarrassing-

“Usopp is in love with Kaya and wanted to know if we think she’s in love with him too.”

Luffy happily continued to eat the chicken that you still couldn’t figure out where it came from. Usopp, on the other hand, looked like his soul was about to leave his body. 

“Sounds about right.”

Your response must have been a shock to Usopp because that’s exactly how he looked. His hand was still nervously fidgeting with his bandana. 

“You know?”

You rolled your eyes as you looked around the kitchen island. Maybe you were starting to feel a little bit hungry.

“Usopp, even Naan knows how you feel about Kaya. She called it like two years ago.” 

You were still looking for something to eat when Luffy slid a plate with chicken thighs and legs between you. They smelled wonderful and the skin was perfectly crisp. It was garnished with what might have been green onion or chive. 

“If you guys are going to talk about feelings I’m seriously going to need a drink.”

“Shocker.”

The few steps Zoro took came to an abrupt end just a few feet from you. You had a piece of chicken thigh between your lips as you made eye contact with his award-winning brooding face. There was a millisecond, as you both looked at each other, that you wondered if he would’ve replied. 

“There’s a wine cellar down in the basement.” 

“Why didn’t you mention that before?”

Usopp opened and closed his mouth. While he was unsure of what to say, you felt like you had plenty. Usopp didn’t waste another second as he grabbed his satchel off the island and started leading Zoro up the stairs. 

“Luffy, you coming?” 

“No, you go ahead. I’m going to sit with Doc for a while.” 

They were walking on the opposite walkway, high up enough to look down at both of you. Zoro glanced over his shoulder at the both of you and it took every last ounce of control on your body not to stick your tongue out at him. 

How odd it was that you felt like you could actually breathe now that he was gone. Sure, you knew you should say sorry to him and, realistically, him calling you a coward was part of the reason you’d stayed. Did you ever want to share that information with him? Hell no. 

The man was already insufferable enough. You didn’t need to add to it. 

The sound of Luffy’s chair scraping against the floor brought you back to where your attention was needed: Luffy. Not Zoro’s retreating back. 

Why did he have to look good from both sides?

Shaking your head to bring you back to why you came there in the first place, you watched as Luffy went back to walking around the kitchen. He kept searching until he came across a bronze pot that was left on the stove. When he lifted the lid you could see the neon blue hue of Kaya’s soup from where you sat. 

“What are you doing?”

Luffy turned with the large pot in hand and walked back over to the table. He looked like a child who’d gotten lost in a chocolate factory. 

“Eating.” 

You felt your brows enter your hairline and possibly the ceiling as you watched Luffy bring the pot to his lips, and begin to gulp the contents down. 

“Are you seriously going to eat all of that?”

He took a few rather large gulps before he set the pot down to look at you. A blue mustache formed on his upper lip. 

“Soup isn’t my usual choice, but it’s not half bad.”

You tried to shake the smile off your face but failed miserably. 

“You know, you don’t need to apologize. I understand being protective of the people you care about.”

The change in topics was giving you mental whiplash. Luffy regarded you with a softness you hadn’t expected. Underneath was that playfulness you’d grown accustomed to, but it was submerged under something serious. Or as serious as Luffy could be. It was the softness you hadn’t expected, however, and you quickly looked down at your hands. 

“Naan raised me to admit when I’m wrong, and I was wrong, Luffy.”

“You talk about your Naan a lot.”

“I have a lot of respect for her. She didn’t have to take me in, teach me what she knows, but she did. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to repay her.” 

Luffy regarded you coolly as he picked up the pot and took another giant gulp. His mouth was getting bluer by the minute.

“I’m sure she appreciates you helping her, but I don’t think she’d want to keep you from your dream.”

“I don’t have a dream.”

“Everybody has a dream. Mine is to be King of the pirates. Now you say yours.” 

Luffy was right. Everyone has a dream. Just not all of them were attainable. There were realistic dreams and unrealistic ones and yours had to be classified under the latter. Luffy’s too. 

But who was to say dreams weren’t attainable if you weren’t willing to strive for them? 

You inhaled sharply, your words exhaling in rush. 

“I want to be one of the world’s greatest doctors. I want to help people. Not just humans, but fishmen and people who have eaten Devil fruits. Their physiology is so changed that no one knows what happens when they get certain wounds.” 

“That’s great because I ate the gum gum fruit.”

How could anyone just casually chug an entire pot of soup? Or openly share that kind of information. 

“I’m sorry, what was that? Did you just say you ate a Devil fruit?”

“Yup. It turned my body into rubber.”

“I have so many questions.”

“It’s a long story.”

His words came out slurred; as if they sat heavy on his tongue and made it impossible to speak. You watched as he blinked slowly to try and clear his vision and when that didn’t work he went to stand and immediately stumbled backwards. 

“Luffy!”

Your body immediately launched itself over the table. You didn’t care that your clothes were covered in a rainbow assortment of food. By the time you’d already made it to his side of the table, Luffy fell back against a cabinet. His body sliding limp to the floor. 

“Luffy! What's wrong? Can you tell me what you’re feeling?”

He was obviously lethargic. His pupils blown wide and unable to focus. It sounded like he was trying to answer your previous question, but his tongue had swollen up making none of it audible. You barely reached him before he completely crumbled to the floor. Your hands dove underneath his arms until you pulled him into a bear hug. 

Luffy was too damn heavy. If you kept holding him you would end up in a heap together on the floor. With as much strength as you could muster you tried to hoist him onto the table. 

“Zoro! Usopp!”

As you pulled him up onto the table, you heard countless silverware and plates crashing to the floor. There was so much commotion surely someone would have to come investigate. You didn’t have time to wait to see if anyone did. After you had him laid out as good as you were going to get him, you rushed over to his head. You pulled up his eyelid and watched as his eye rolled up inside his head. 

“Damn it! Zoro! Usopp! Where the fuck are you guys!”

The panic in your voice was tittering on hysteria. You wanted to scream. You definitely were going to start crying if your brain didn’t get it together. Luffy needed you. 

You placed two fingers on the artery in his neck. His pulse fluttered against your fingertips and with each beat felt slower than the last. Drawing your hands back you noticed the slight foam that was forming at the corners of his mouth and - “Poison.” 

Your eyes zoned in on the now empty pot. Luffy had eaten all of it and whatever was inside was enough to make its effects be instantaneous. It was the same soup they’d given to Kaya. The same color as her tea. 

“Son of a bitch!” 

They’d been poisoning her this whole time. The only reason she didn’t drop dead in front of them was because she’d never even taken a bite. Every time Usopp told you stories about Klahadore, Buchi, and Sham it always felt off. None of it ever added up and now, now you know why. 

Those bastards had been trying to kill her this whole time. 

A soft groan huffed from Luffy bringing you back to the very important present. Why hadn’t anyone answered you? It didn’t matter. You needed to help Luffy - Kaya - before it was too late. 

“Luffy, I have to go back to Naan’s. I can’t carry you out of here or we won’t make it. I promise I’ll be back. I’m going to save you. I’m going to save Kaya.” 

With one last look at Luffy, you tightened the strap on your satchel and bolted for the nearest exit. 

——————————

Your lungs were screaming with every breath you took and your muscles burning, threatening to collapse, as you pushed forward. You couldn’t afford to stop running. Not since you left the front door of Kaya’s house. The last time you saw Luffy glued itself to your retinas and refused to let go. A constant reminder that no matter how much your body wanted to give up, you couldn’t let it. 

Luffy and Kaya were counting on you. 

By the time you passed through the town and started up the hill behind the tree line to Naan’s you were running on fumes. It was probably the reason why you not so gracefully barreled through the front door. Your legs wobble to a shaky halt as you attempt to walk them over to the cupboard that held every tonic known to man.  

“Naan! Naan, I need help, please!” 

Your voice cracked and melted into the old boards of the house. You were still struggling to catch a breath as you opened the doors to the cupboard. Everything about you felt unstable. Your hands shook as they moved around the bottles, almost toppling them over and threatening to make a bigger mess of your night. 

“What in the hell is going on down here?”

Naan’s voice crocked with sleep but her words were full of fire. She was pissed you woke her up, but it was all for a damn good reason. The dim light from her candle grew brighter as she advanced down the stairs. 

“Naan, I’m down here. Please, I need your help.”

You rushed to the stars to wait to help her down the rest of the way. The minute she grabbed your hands to help her down, you moved to take her toward the cabinet but she held on tight. She wasn’t budging until you looked at her. She called your name repeatedly to get you to look at her. Why wouldn’t you look at her? 

The overwhelming feeling of failure was crashing in on you. You’d known. You knew, in the pit of your stomach, that something wasn’t right with them. You should have fought harder. You could’ve done more and now, now Luffy was dying of a poison Kaya ingested for years and Nami, Usopp, and even Zoro were in danger. 

A sob tore its way out from your throat, through your lips, and ended in a guttural scream. 

“What in the hell is happening, child?”

“Naan,” you sobbed. “Naan, Luffy has been poisoned-“

“Poisoned?”

“With the same stuff they’ve been giving Kaya for years. Kaya has slowly been poisoned and she’s going to die. We need to help her. I need to help them Naan, please.”

You weren’t sure when it happened. When you were no longer supporting Naan but she was supporting you. Her paper thin hands held your face gently as her thumbs smoothed your tears down. She made you follow her breathing until your breaths were even and slow. Only then did she begin to talk to you. 

“Do you know what kind he ingested?” 

Fuck. 

“No, I-“

Naan held her hand up to stop you. With one hand still supporting her weight on your arm, she came off the last step and moved towards the cabinet you’d massacred. You knew Naan had noticed it too when a displeased click of her tongue filled the silence in the room. 

“If you don’t know what it is, it could be tricky. I can give you what I have, but you are going to need to examine them both before you give them anything. Give them the wrong one, and it will kill them as quickly as the poison will.”

Naan calmly went through each bottle. She knew by heart where everything would be. Just like she could blindly feel through ingredients or measure it without actually measuring it. She turned around with five bottles clutched in her hands and shuffled her way back over to you. She motioned for you to open your satchel and placed them one-by-one carefully inside. 

“I don’t know if you should be doing this.” 

For the first time, you heard the waiver in her voice. She watched as you secure your satchel closed; her eyes trained to the worn leather before she looked back at you. You weren’t expecting her to look so scared. It was your turn to place your hands on her shoulders and give them a soft squeeze. 

“You’ve always taught me there is no greater service in life than to serve others. I can’t let them die, Naan.” 

“I know,” she smiled sadly. The worry made the wrinkles more severe than before. “It’s just…be careful. Please.”

With another squeeze you did your best to smile at her, to reassure her, before you stepped back. 

“I’ll be back, Naan. Don’t you worry.” 

You didn’t know that for sure. There was a chance Klahadore or Buchi would spot you before you made it back to Luffy. Who knew what they were doing to everyone while you were here. 

With that uncertainty of what could happen stewing in your chest, you leaned forward quickly and planted a kiss on Naan’s cheek before you bolted out the door. This time, your body was prepared for the brutal run back to the manor. You were almost to the edge of town when the bell rang out in warning and moments later the sound of Usopp’s, “The pirates are here!” Ringing out. 

At the sound of his voice, you allowed yourself a moment to thank the universe that he was okay. You wanted to stop and turn back to the village. To find Usopp and ask him just to come back with you and the two of you would figure it out together. 

Luffy didn’t have that kind of time. 

With that truth taking over your thought, you began to pick up the pace. You had a captain to save. 

—————————-

The front of the manor was beginning to be covered in the fog that was rolling in from the ocean. This was hands down the creepiest you had ever seen the Manor. It was giving definite horror vibes. The worst part? Even from this far you could see the damn pirate shutters were enabled. 

“Fuck!” You screamed. 

How in the hell were you going to get inside to help them? Those things were heavy and meant to be impenetrable. There was no way you were going to be able to break it down with a few kicks. 

“Think,” you huffed, as your hand slid across your face. 

What options did you have? You could go back to find Usopp, but there was a high chance you’d only end up missing each other in passing. You couldn’t just go up to the front door and knock. Not unless, you know, you wanted to die. 

You were pacing back and forth when a very loud grunt echoed from the well. 

You hadn’t read many horror novels, but the ones you had read, well, this was giving haunted zombie island vibes. You wish you could claim to be unafraid, but when the grunt came again, this time closer and louder than the last, you knew you’d be lying. 

So, why were you ever so slowly edging your way towards the well? Curiosity did always kill the cat. Right when you finally got to the edge of the stone, you exhaled to prepare yourself to look over. 

Who knows, maybe it was just your imagination overreacting. Right when you went to glance over the side, a hand smacked its way over the top and you felt your soul evacuate your body. A few seconds later, green hair popped over the top that sat on top of a familiar face, but your brain was stuck in fear mode, so when Zoro asked, “Doc?” The only response he’d gotten was your fist connecting with his face. 

“What the fuck!”

His scream echoed into the well. You could hear him slipping and knew it was because you’d shoved your knuckles into his cheekbone. Just as he was about to slip, you launched yourself over the side to grab a hold of his arm. 

“What the fuck!” Zoro shouted up at you. 

“I’m sorry, okay! I thought you were a zombie and oh my god is that a fucking body?!”

You almost let Zoro go as your eyes focused on what looked like very real feet attached to very real legs. 

“Yeah. It’s that Merry, guy.”

Zoro grunted as he tried to find purchase for the foot that had slipped. You were struggling to hold him up and each time his foot slipped it seemed to tug you down with him. 

“For fuck’s sake, what are you made of bricks?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is my weight inconveniencing you? If it wasn’t for you I would be out already,” Zoro  growled out each word.

“I said I was sorry, okay! What more do you want?”

You move your hand further down until you reach his elbow. At first, it seemed like a solid plan. Strategically, it was a better option to give you more leverage in helping pull him up. The reality of it was Zoro was sweaty - very sweaty - from climbing about twenty-feet up the inside of a well. The minute your hand clamped down on the lubricated skin, it slipped free. 

When he started to come loose from your hands you expected him to scream. All you saw was a grimace as his back slammed into the wall of the well and a glare that could give death a run for his money. 

“Just pull me up already and stop screwing around.” 

“I am trying but you are a hefty, hefty man,” you stated with each word strained. 

Okay. You needed to get serious. You’d allowed his weight to lift your feet off the ground. You swung them back until you could get your toes pressed against the River rock of the well. Your heels were still slightly lifted in the air, but you knew this could work in your favor. You took in a deep breath and began to lean back as hard as you could. It may not have been super comfortable, but it was pulling him up enough that you could hear his boot finally find the footing it needed. 

“Okay, you can let go now. I said you can let go-!”

You fully intended to let go. Whatever Zoro had done to help launch himself out, mixed with your pulling, sent you falling backwards. 

With Zoro landing directly on top of you. 

His weight mixed in with the fall knocked your breath clean out of your lungs. You were trying to get your lungs to expand by letting your body relax so you attempted to think of soothing things. The night sky and her stars were looking incredible tonight. It was the clearest you’d seen them in a while. Too bad it was on a night like tonight. 

Zoro slowly lifted his head up from your shoulder, his arms on either side of you, until you were both face-to-face. Suddenly, it felt like the air was knocked out of you all over again. 

His skin still held a sheen from his previous excretion of climbing. The edges of his hair was damp with sweat giving him a look that reminded you of when you’d run into him earlier wet from his shower. It shouldn’t have made him look this damn good. 

You were painfully aware that he was still between your legs. Zoro was close enough you could feel his stomach extend with each heavy breath he took. Could easily count the freckles that endless days in the sun had kissed on his skin. His lips were parted, eyes scanning your face, and for one devious miscalculation of judgment, you wanted to fist your fingers in his shirt and pull him towards you to see if his lips were as soft as you imagined. 

Nope. Nooooope!

That moment was enough to bring you crashing back to reality. Plus, Luffy. Kaya. 

You smack his chest for good measure. Just to let him know you meant it when you said, “Are you trying to crush me to death? Get off me!” 

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” he grunted. 

Once he was up, you expected him to stick his hand out to help you up. Instead, he was already walking in the opposite direction of what appeared to be away from the house. 

“Hey! Where are you going?”

You scrambled up from your spot and hurried to try and catch up with him. Your hands rearranging your satchel to make sure your bottles weren’t crushed. 

“I’m going back to the house.”

“Yeah, so am I but the house is back this way.”

Zoro stopped for a split second to look behind you before deciding what you offered was wrong. 

“How about we split up and figure out who was right?”

“Fat chance, Mosshead.”

You fell into step beside him and you were positive if Zoro could’ve, he would’ve thrown you down the well. Just to make sure you stayed away from him. If this was a different time, one where you didn’t just pull him from a well where a dead body was, Luffy wasn’t poisoned, and Kaya and Nami were in danger you would have steered clear of him. So, unlucky for you both, you were newfound partners in unfortunate crime. 

Neither of you spoke a word as you continued to walk down the path. You were pretty sure that Zoro was sending you the wrong way. You were two seconds away from telling him he was most definitely wrong, and you’d been most definitely right, until you both observed something up ahead. 

Was that marines? And were they carrying- “Luffy,” you said in a hush tone. 

Zoro saw it too. Two marines were carrying his limp body between them until he launched himself forward and began vomiting in the trees. It shouldn’t be possible. Poison when ingested - by anyone - was fatal. Even with as much vomiting he was doing it shouldn’t be possible. And yet, you saw it happening. 

It has to be the Devil fruit…

Zoro waved for you to hide inside the bamboo but you brushed him off. As quietly as you could, you reached down and grabbed a fallen bamboo branch. You made sure you had a good grip on the bottom as you made your way quietly forward. 

They were arguing between themselves. One of them with an extremely terrible haircut was holding a gun to the other with glasses and back to Luffy. The two spare marines were just standing watching and-

With as much force as you could muster, you smacked the one on the left on the side of his head. Zoro just used his fist for the other one. At the sound of their bodies falling, bad haircut turned around and when he saw Zoro walking towards him he turned sheet white. 

“Zoro!” Luffy called happily as he got to his feet. “And Doc?” 

You scratched the back of your head as you watched Zoro knock out bad haircut in one punch. 

“Yeah. I came back to rescue you. Surprise,” you joked, throwing your hands up in mock celebration. 

“Thanks. Come on. We need to get back to the house.”

Without another word, Luffy pressed between you and started making his way back towards the house. You side-eyed Zoro to see if he was paying attention, because Luffy had just proven you were right. You opened your mouth to tease him when a soft shout of Luffy’s name sent you all turning to see who it was.

They stood in front of you - pale as moonlight - and a little frightened with black rimmed circle glasses and pink hued hair. You weren’t sure who they were but all you needed to know was that they knew Luffy by name. 

“Koby, I know you got a job to do. But I’m going to go back and help my friends. Don’t try and stop me.” 

Yup. Luffy was officially the most polite pirate you’d ever met. 

Koby gave Luffy the smallest of nods. A silent affirmation that he wouldn’t be following suit. You had so many questions about what happened between everyone tonight and would make sure to ask later. If given the chance. 

Adjusting his hat back on his head, Luffy turned and started sprinting down the path. Zoro gave you one last look before he ran after him with his hands securely holding onto his swords. A soft groan left you as your feet padded along like the little engine that could. 

“Ugh, why are we doing more running? I hate running.” 

No one answered you and that was fine. You were going to need as much air as you could trying to keep up with the two of them. 

——————————-

Zoro and Luffy were at the door when you came up. The two of them looked at the giant metal shudder. You were ready to tell them there wasn’t going to be any other way inside the house when Zoro bent down on one knee and worked his fingers underneath. 

“That’s not going to work.”

Luffy turned to you with a wide smile. 

“You don’t know Zoro.”

As if on queue, Zoro let out a grunt and began to push the shudder up. No way. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to even remotely lift it an inch. Usopp told you hundreds of times that pirate shudders were over six-hundred pounds of metal. They were meant to withstand canon balls and here Zoro was lifting it to his waist. 

Luffy grabbed a statue and placed it underneath the shudder allowing Zoro to let go, and kick the double doors open. Luffy wasted no time in bending down and looking inside to make sure they could enter without interruption. When he was sure it was clear, he moved inside and Zoro shortly followed. Luffy went to shut the doors when you quickly moved inside. 

“Doc, I think you should wait outside.”

“Fuck that,” you seethed. “These are my friends too, Luffy. I’m not leaving until I know they’re safe.”

Why was he smiling? 

“Alright, but we split up. Cover more ground that way.”

Neither of them wasted any time taking off in their respective directions. It wasn’t until they were gone that you realized you didn’t have a clue where to go and what were you supposed to do if you found them.

You let out a huff of air that ended in a raspberry as you decided to go down the opposite side of the corridor than Zoro. You may not have any abilities from eating Devil fruit or be insanely good with swords, but you did have your wits. Yeah. That’s what was going to save you. Wits. 

Maybe you could just go back to the kitchen and see if the pot was still there. If it was, you’d have a chance to  get samples of what Buchi had laced inside the soup. In Kaya’s tea. God, just thinking about it pissed you off all over again. 

If the house felt eerily quiet before, it felt even worse now. All signs of life were completely drained from the halls to the point your own breathing felt too loud in the large space. You were tempted to make noise, to call out for Zoro like playing a game of Marco Polo. Probably wouldn’t have been one of your best ideas in a house full of homicidal waitstaff. 

When you got to the kitchen you made a quick note that the bronze pot in question was missing. Of course they wouldn’t have kept it. It was evidence of a plot they’d spent three years perfecting, but you just needed to search to be sure. 

Quickly, you made your way around to the stairs and into the step down of the kitchen. Someone had done the dishes. It was all gone. You tried not to allow the bitterness of that thought to settle, but damn if it wasn’t hard. How were you going to be able to know what treatment to start giving Kaya if you didn’t have anything to base it off? 

You looked around the kitchen one last time when the sounds of fighting erupted somewhere in the distance. It could be Luffy or Zoro. Hell, it could be one of the other three too. Either way, it didn’t matter who it was. You were going to help them. 

First things first…

You looked quickly around the kitchen. There wasn’t much in the way of weapons that were going to strike fear in the hearts of anyone. You saw a tiny pot that was sitting on the sink counter and rushed forward to grab it by the handle. As soon as you knew you had it, you bolted back up the stairs and towards the main lobby. 

The closer you got the more intense the fighting became. Swords. Those definitely sounded like swords, which meant it was Zoro fighting, but also someone else with swords. And here you were bringing a pot to a sword fight.

You weren’t given a chance to backtrack on your choice of weapon. The minute you came out from the French double doors that lead back into the foray of the house, you watched as Zoro fought off Buchi and Sham. 

You never saw a real swordsman or met one for that matter. It wasn’t like Syrup village was brimming with up and coming anything, really, but as you watched Zoro effortlessly move between blocking and attacking you were willing to bet no one compared to him. 

You were so caught up in gawking that you weren’t aware that Buchi and Sham were made aware of your presence until they hissed at you. Hissing? Really? You could feel a smart ass comment brewing, but now didn’t seem like the appropriate time to say it. Buchi was who turned on you first with Sham still attacking Zoro. She had her back to you, and when she came up from a missed swing you rushed forward and launched the small pot at the back of her head. 

The sound of it connecting with its intended target resonated through the room. Sham’s head was as hollow as you thought. 

Everything slowed down for a second as you all waited to see what would happen. Luckily for you, the result was Sham falling face first into the hardwood completely passed out. 

“Holy shit. It worked! Zoro, did you see that!” 

“You little bitch!” 

How the hell did you forget about Buchi? He came stomping towards you causing the floor to shake as he did. You were getting ready to bolt in the opposite direction when Zoro jumped in the way. You took that as your queue to move. 

You dashed toward where Sham’s body had fallen and kicked away her sword and - wait, was that a broom handle? You no longer felt embarrassed about using a pot. 

Taking hold of the unconscious Sham, you began to move her more towards the front door. Zoro finished with Buchi with ease and knocked him unconscious. It didn’t dawn on you that something was different about him until he dragged Buchi over to where you’d placed Sham. Zoro was wearing a black bandana. And no, you did not notice how the veins in his arms were very much showing. 

“We should get some rope to tie them up.”

“Good idea.” 

By the time everyone made it down, Buchi and Sham had regained consciousness and you and Zoro were sitting far apart. 

There was no denying when you saw them all come down the stairs, a relief so intense flooded your veins and soaked into your bones. When Usopp hugged you, you allowed yourself to hug him back just a little bit tighter. 

A part of you knew that the adventures of yesterday would come to an end back in the shipyard. It would end with Kaya giving Luffy that ship he’d so lovingly given his speech for, and more so knew Luffy would ask Usopp to go with him. 

It was Usopp’s dream - his real dream. Part of that dream was experiencing the freedom that the sea offered, just like his dad did. How could you ever ask someone you considered your friend - your best friend - to stay just because you weren’t ready to part with them? No. Usopp deserved adventures as grand as his stories.

While he’d been talking to Kaya you’d taken the opportunity to slip away. It’s not that you weren’t happy for him, because you were. The idea of not having him around anymore, however, began to dig a hole in your soul. So, you went to the one place that always mended it. 

You were sitting with Naan at the kitchen table folding linens with water boiling on the stove and ingredients beside it. You were still waiting for Kaya to come by so you could perform an assessment. Before you could treat her, you would have to find out how extensive the damage was, and what would be the best form of treatment. 

“So, Usopp’s going to be going, then?” 

You didn’t expect Naan to sound sad. While she wasn’t mean like the rest of the village, she most definitely was not a fan of rising early just to hear the bell and the yelling. 

“Yeah. They should already be out to sea.” 

You were folding your next set of linens when Naan reached out and gently took your hand in hers. The act stops you from finishing the next fold. 

“It’s all going to work out the way that it should, child.”

“I know, Naan.”

A knock on the door rescued you from having to continue whatever talk was brewing in Naan. It saved you from more than likely crying like a baby on her shoulder too. You got up from your chair and made your way over to the door when another knock came seconds before you reached it. 

“Kaya, I’m coming! God, are rich people always so impatient?”

When you swung the door open, you hadn’t expected to find Luffy there smiling or the rest of the crew waiting behind him. Kaya was plainly missing from the group. 

“Who is it, child?” 

You felt too dumbfounded to speak. Why were they here? 

“It’s alright, Naan,” you called over your shoulder, eyes still glued to Luffy. “It’s just Luffy.”

“Luffy?”

“Straw hat.”

The sound of her chair sliding back against the wood was what tore your gaze away. You looked back to find Naan struggling to get to her cane with her left hand holding her weight up by the table. You moved back from the entrance, waving him in as you rushed over to grab her cane and hand it to her. 

“What are you guys doing here? I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“We were about to head out when the strangest thing happened.” You crossed your arms as you listened to Luffy. The cliff hanger his words left you on threatened to drop fresh anxiety into your gut. “I turned to get my crew onboard and realized my doctor was missing.” 

“What?” You breathed. 

“That’s you.”

You closed your eyes for a split second as you tried to collect your thoughts. 

“Luffy, I wouldn’t make a good pirate.”

“You don’t have to be. Just like with Usopp, I saw what you did. The way you fought to protect people. I need you in my crew.” 

You dropped your arms as you turned to regard Naan. The way her body leaned heavily on the cane. Her once strong body was becoming more frail by the day. You couldn’t leave her. 

You swallowed hard before you replied, “Luffy, that is a splendid offer. One I don’t think anyone could pass up but I can’t leave.”

“Why the hell not?” Naan fired off. 

“Naan-“

“And if you say it’s because of me, just remember you aren’t too old for me to throttle you with my cane.” 

She finally pushed her hip from the side of the table and waddled over to the rack that held your satchel. Naan reached up and pulled it down, turning slowly until you came back into view, and tossed the satchel in your direction. 

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? You know, for being smart you sure can be dumb sometimes.” 

Your eyes looked down at the satchel in your hands. You rubbed the worn leather with your thumbs as you remembered her giving you this very bag on your thirteenth birthday. The pricks of tears came unannounced and most definitely unwanted a few moments later. It made you terrified to look up. For her to see that saying goodbye might kill a piece of you, you’d never get back. 

You’d never get her back either. 

“Naan-“ You tried to speak but your voice cracked around her name. “Who is going to take care of you if I’m gone?”

A tsk of disbelief shot from her lips. Both her hands now came to rest on top of the cane as she regarded you coolly. 

“I’ve been an old woman for a long time now. I think I can manage without you.”

“See - it’s settled,” Luffy began. “You are welcome to join our crew and that way you don’t have to give up on your dream.”

He remembered? 

How silly that question was. He was Monkey D. Luffy. Of course, he was going to remember. Glancing down at the satchel in your hands once more you allowed yourself to debate one last time before you grabbed the strap and placed it over your shoulder. 

Before you took that first step towards the door, you turned one last time to Naan and took one of her hands in yours. You tried to tell yourself you wouldn’t cry. You never cried, but the first tear slid down your face and called you a liar.

“Please, take care Naan. You’ve done so much for me, my whole life. If it wasn’t for you I don’t know where I would be.” 

“Dead,” she stated matter-of-factly. 

It was so blunt. So incredibly Naan that you couldn’t stop the sharp bark of laughter that came from you. The soft feather of her hand reached up to cup your face and forced you to look at her. A long silence pulled between you, and you wondered if she was going to say anything at all when a soft smile cracked her thin lips. 

“Go, child. Be great.”

Shaking your head in agreement, the both of you broke free and you followed Luffy out of the house. You spared one last glance at Naan’s home - your home - and found her at the door seeing you off. You raised your hand in one last goodbye and watched as she did it too. 

Maybe Luffy was right. It was time to go on your own adventure and you had no doubt Luffy and his crew were going to give it to you. 

________

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If I missed anyone, please let me know! TY

[slut4daviii]

character(s): d.kaminari

pt: 02/02

cw: fingering, cum/anal eating, edging, praise kink(?), daddy kink, brat taming, caught, post-shower sex, mind-fucking, slight degradation, belly bulge, size kink, thigh-fucking (kinda)

your step-brother thought he had a few more minutes before you got out of the shower. he learns the hard way what happens when you’re caught masturbating.

a/n: i hate this shit sooo fucking much. | i gave up halfway through (thats what took it so long to come out. | minors and fem-aligned DO NOT INTERACT

title: whatcha up to, sparky?

wc: idefk (prolly 2000-2500)

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he only had another minute or two.

steam rose from the crevices of your locked bathroom; music blaring from the other side.

“[n—name]! ng—ngmh! nhg!….fu—fugk! right there!” the words left his mouth in an unceremonious fashion, sounding more like a broken record; he said it again, and again, repeating himself almost indulgently. a hand ghosted his twitching erection, blazing forth a sleuth of high-pitched moans.

your hands reached for the knobs, twisting it off in one swift movement.

“just a little longer baby.”

I—I can’t…! pl—please [name]! I need to— nghm! cum!” the machinery within his body continued to spear his insides, impaling the deepest depths of his mind. with a steady flow of electrons— curtesy of his quirk, the speed of his ‘toy’ increased drastically, now entailing itself into his stomach.

“mmhg! [na—name]! I—I’m gon—gonna cum!”

he listened intently, already having memorized the audio’s contents. your voice spoke to him, shooting daggers into his body.

“does my good boy wanna cum?”

Denki nodded— phonetically speaking through gritted teeth. “tes! [name] le—lemme cuhm!”

“no.”

his body retreated away from the sound, his head snapping backwards at the edging.

sweat trickled from his forehead, exhaustion clawing at his hips. he pressed your shirt— sweat-ridden and freshly used— further against his nose, inhaling deep breaths of your musky scent, the smell sending him overflowing with lust.

he squirmed against your sheets, moving his hands to slam your pillow over his face. “nmfgh…! [n—name]! mfg—ghm!” he pulled the pillow away— vision still slightly obscured by your shirt.

“aww, I’m hurt… comparing me to something as small as that.”

Denki shot up, his quirk mushing more elegant arcs of electrical surges into the machine— it picking up enough speed to make him lurch to his side. “uhng! wa—wait! wait [n—na]! wait, it—it’s not what—what it looks like!”

your body coupled into his vision, the tranquil curves of your muscles blurring behind the liquid wall of lust coaxing Denki’s body. beads of water rolled over your smoothing skin— the moisture from your shower still sticking to the surface of your body.

“oh? is it not? then what’s goin’ on, …zappy?” the nickname fell from your lips like a satin blanket, dully dressed in the glorious afterglow of pleasure.

the toy inside of Denki was still moving, strongly striking his nerves in mind-blurring fashion. “nnguh! it—it’s because of—of your v—oice! the video you made!”

you smirked, a dark chuckle leaving you. “so you watch my videos? that makes you a perv, y’know.”

Denki fumbled, his facade falter alongside the coiling strings of semen erupting from his slit. “unug—ha!” his moan was spun on the web of a gasp, snatching his body’s actions away from him. “I— uhg! …n—no! that’s n—not what I—nghm! meant!” he gulped back his shame, sitting up against your wall. “I— was j—just…” his eyes traveled everywhere, looking for a plausible explanation as to what he was very obviously doing.

you pushed off the frame of your door, dragging your tongue along the ridge of your teeth. “so what did you mean…Denk?’”

the way the nickname burrowed yourself into his skin make him quiver with anticipation. though he didn’t know what to expect. “anything you wanna say?” the question was laced with greed— almost as if you were teetering on the idea of turning him into a, your slut.

your knee connected with the edge of your bed, your weight dipping the mattress intolerably. the water from your hair dripped down your body, running circles on your torso before making way to your v-line. “I—nghm! I was, just… just trying to…” his eyes lowered. “uh! uhm, well… I guess you— we…!”

“eyes up here, Denk’.”

you brought your hand to his chin— almost in a cliché sense, your eyes locking in a one-sided battle. “so, Denk… what were you doing?”

you were hovering over him, your height difference clouding, if not completely obscuring his perspective. your bulge pressed into the cusp of his thighs.

a shallow gasp escaped you, your head dropping to look at him. his legs were shaking slightly, the skin of his body smooth and perfectly poised. “god, your so beautiful.”

Denki flushed; his eyes darting around articulately. his body was cleansed of its own blood, now replaced and replenished by the torrents of your own; he was bound to you. bound in your spell.

“is this my shirt?” his eyes finally focused, the grey material momentarily filling his vision before you took it from him. “is this where my clothes have been going? on your pervy little curves? helping you masturbate?”

“n—no! I haven’t been d—doing anything, man! I’ve ju—just been low on—NGHM!” Denki’s hands came up to your shoulders: gripping and scratching along the skin. “[n—name]! I—I just said that— ngh! I didn’t st—steal your cloths!”

your fingers intersected themselves in the innermost nerves of Denki’s body. he reflected the feeling of arousal in his eyes— the sensation causing the irises of his eyes to gloss over with tears.

“this isn’t about my clothes, Denk’” you groaned, feeling Denki’s legs press on the head of your cock. “its about you. and what you’re doing in my room. with my shirt over your face, and a fuck machine in your ass.”

you displaced your fingers, rubbing them along his prostate. “so, what exactly are you doing?”

Denki threw his head back— a sound erupting from his mouth in a dysphoric rage of moans. “mmgh! I— I w—was low on—ahgn!” a sharp thrust of your fingers stopped his sentence, his cock twitching with precum.

“stop lying Denk’ you know mom hates that shit.”

your cock throbbed painfully, the towel around your waist falling to your thighs— your cock rubbing against your step-brother’s abdomen. “c’mon Denk’” you almost whined, desperation washing over you in arcs of painful crescent moons. “I’m so… fuckin’ horny.”

your fingers glistened within him— a grandeur sound resonating within him. he audibly gasped at it, trying to move away from you but your sudden grip on his thigh altered his movements, making him slide under you instead.

he gulped, finding himself floundering around at the feeling of your cock against his stomach. it aligned with the skin just above his belly button. his movements were spastic, a jumble of jerks and twist sending molten plasma down your shaft.

“Denk…” your words were cold— rigid with seething but controlled gasp. “if you keep movin’ like that, I’ll cum.”

Denki blushed, a liquid crimson band covering his entirety. his movements momentarily halted, the surges of lust nestling into his stomach, coiling into a warm feeling that tightened with each move of your fingers

however, they left his body in a sickly masochistic way. you brought your fingers to your mouth and slid your tongue along the skin, maintaining a dysphasic tone of eye contact. the look in your eyes heating Denki’s body to an all time high.

your fingers, now covered in a flowing sea of spit and lube reached for Denki’s lips— breaking the surface of his mouth. his heartbeat was in his throat, yet, he still took your fingers into the depths of his mouth.

you played with his tongue, using your index and middle to balance the pink muscle in a titillating, slightly uncomfortable fashion.

you moved once more, shoving yourself into his throat. he choked and gagged, spitting around your knuckles but made no attempt to stop your brutality.

after a few seconds, you took your fingers away from him, letting him breathe.

“what were you doing in my room, Denk?” you asked once more.

“hnah! mng—h! I—I wasn’t doin’ anything, ma—man!”

you chuckled, moving your hand to your cock— stroking from base to tip. with your other hand, you wrapped his torso in your forearm, lifting him to your v-line. “tsk, tsk. mom would be disappointed.” your tip grazed his hole, “first, you have the shameless idea to masturbate in my room, then you lie about it.”

you pushed inward— also grabbing your shirt and shoving it into Denki’s mouth. he moaned around the fabric, his eyes crossing when you had yourself fully excavated within him. “I guess you’ve always needed a little more time to learn things…”

your hips fell away from him, dragging your tip down the ridge of his spine. the afterimage of your shaft was still intact; exhibiting through his pelvic muscles. it was filthy. utterly disgraceful to witness. “but… it’s a good thing you’ve got me.”

not a second later, his catalyst was filled once more, your cock reaching intolerably deep into his physique. his arms slid down your chest— leaving scarlet marks on your abdominal walls.

a hiss left your lips, the sound similar to a snake. you grabbed his wrist with one of your hands, using the other to snatch your shirt from his mouth. “haah! [n—name]! de—deep! c—cock too deep’n me…!”

you wrapped his wrist in your shirt, taking the edges of the bindings and crossing them into his drooling lips— the knot forming a gag. “my what?” you mocked, laughter soon filling your white-walls. “too deep? you were just using a fuck machine, jerking your dick to the smell of my clothes! now it’s too deep?”

you began thrusting shallowly, moving his thighs to your chest and pulling his legs to fall down your back. a swift motion of your hips shook Denki’s body, pushing him into his second orgasm.

he tightened around you, a convulsive throbbing in his cock and rapidly clenching hole gave way to the white twine and muffled moans of your step-brother. he thrashed his hands around— vigorously trying to grip onto anything.

you grinned at this, continuously thrusting into him. Denki felt his consciousness leaving him, his eyes falling lidded and heavy.

you, stuttering over the feeling of your own body, groaned profusely— your hips stinging with exhaustion. “you— mgh! you can’t handle my dick? if you wanna tap out, just tell me what you were doing in here.”

Denki mumbled, not knowing how to form correct words. “I—nguhm! ne— never anyth’ng! do th’ng!” he consulted his eyes, the orange pupils glass-like and heart-shaped. “nghu! FUGKH! m—man! ca—can’t think!”

a skeletal architecture altered into his body, forming a permanent semicircular shape— an arch lifted his body off the bed, rubbing your slit into his prostate.

both of your came— your cock trembling with painful arcs of melancholy emission staining the onslaught of Denki’s organs. his body spasmed with crude pleasure— his eyes rolling into emptiness.

his body went limp in your arms: mouth slack, eyes closed, and breathing shallow.

he’d passed out.

your body heaved, heavily burned from your orgasm. your cock was still deep within him, your semen creating a barrier between the two of you— however his warmth was still surrounding you in surreal relief. it begged you to keep going, begged for you to unload your balls and every drop of cum you had into him.

a gulp traveled intermittently across your tongue, cascading into your throat. you casually slipped your finger onto his waist— gripping the skin in a gentle embrace.

you pushed your pelvis further into him, your tip ramming against the bottom of his enclosure. your head tilted back, eyes closed with plenty more pleasure.

you pulled from him, slamming back against his skin in a single breathless moment. his body rippled through with waves of light. sweat enchanted his body like a giant cloud, puddling on his stomach— entrancing the skin alongside the pool of his cum.

you again thrusted into him— this time harsher. you were transported to another world, blissfully unaware of Denki’s stirring body. he was waking back up, his cock sleek with pre-cum.

his vision was still obscured, the feeling of fabric still plastered over his tongue. he whined, more pre-cum falling from his slit. “mghph— phuhk muh! [nuhmhe]! chaut c—can’t cuhm! n’more!”

you couldn’t hear him. you were completely lost in your own thoughts: the same words repeated throughout the entire time, “fuck him! fuck him until he can’t walk! fuck him! fuck him! fuck him fuck him fuckhimfuckhimFUCKHIMFUCKHIM!”

your thoughts mushed together, a singular statement that dug deeper and deeper into your mind. it burned into your brain, forcing your hips to move internally deeper, milking a third orgasm from Denki. he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, he was racked with tears— crying out in ecstay

you were panting heavily, biting down on your lip to keep your sounds of elation. your orgasm was slowly steeping upon you, the feeling setting off a buzzing sensation all over your body.

“fuuhk… Denki, I’m gonna— Imma cum.”

Denki’s legs shook with excitement, another orgasm rumbling through his body. he screamed around your shirt, pressing his hips against yours. spit dripped from his chin, running down his abdomen and onto his maroon shaded tip.

overwhelming coils of heat knotted within you, pushing your hips into an uneven pace

you weren’t aiming at anything, just hitting Denki’s body over and over again. you were chasing after an orgasm that was mere inches away.

sloppy thrust turned to harsh, animalistic tactics— erratically fucking Denki into the soft cloth rubbing against your balls. you were going crazy, the heat from your abdomen shooting into your tip, choking you in a panicked rage.

you leaned down to Denki, ripping your shirt from his lips, quickly replacing the cloth with the chapped skin of your lips. you messily kissed along his face, moving sloppily to his neck. “who’s your daddy?”

Denki moaned— the sound hoarse and cracking. “y—[name]! m’daddy! m’yer slut!”

the words only continued to edge you, your tip twitching inside him, “say it again— fuck… I’m so close to giving you my kids…!” your shaft throbbed at his mindlessness, the moans bouncing like embers from a raging river of fire. “please, say it again…! what’s my name, Denk?”

“daddy! da—duaddy! mngh!… ma’cuhm! cuhm n’daddy’s cock!” again Denki clench around you, his swollen hole screaming at you to keep going— keep abusing him until your name was spelled into his organs.

“fu—“ you couldn’t finish your sentence, a powerful surge of pleasure rushing through every blood cell in your body, energetically jerking your lower body around. like an angry explosion your cum clawed its way through you, pushing out any and everything you had within you, transferring it into Denki.

Denki’s cum was clear— thin and falling onto his pecs, dripping like water onto his face. he shivered at the feeling, not having the energy to move or even breathe correctly.

you sighed, head falling painfully to your pillow, the feeling of Denki’s hair right beside your face annoying the nerve endings of your skin.

you pushed his head away, closing your eyes and drifting into a deep sleep.

until…

“[NAME]! DENKI! WHAT IS GOING ON?! WHAT ARE THE TWO OF YOU DOING?!!”

you gulped.

shit.

[shapard]

Feather of Fate🕊️

Lucifer x seraphim!fem!reader

Soulmate arc

Soft Lucifer

They talk in honesty

A/n: When someone wants to request something, go on!

Eternal Sunshine

Chapter 10 > Epilogue

Saying that Lucifer got over protective is an understatement. He always was at least one feet away from you.

Lucifer created a little goat guardian for you, when he wasn’t there and able to protect you. 

You named her Lammy. 

Lucifer always said that it was a boring name. You should name her Shazam or something similar, which you gladly declined. 

Lammy may be a simple name but it is a cute one for your cute little white-brownish goat. She had two small pairs of fairy wings and a pink bowtie. 

You loved your little Lammy and hugged it 24/7 which made Lucifer a little Jealous. 

When Lucifer was there Lammy wasn't allowed on the bed.

Husk and Angel dust were more than happy that you’re alive. They didn’t even let you move an inch. 

And now you were crouched down to the medicine cabinet, because the pain on your back was too much.

“Luce! Where are the pain killers?” You shouted as you looked in the small medicine cabin, you couldn’t find your medications anymore.

A golden shimmer appeared next to you and Lucifer descended from it. 

“They should be in here Apple pie. Why do you need them?” He asked as he crouched down to your level and helped to find the medications. 

“I have pain on my Shoulder.” The pain was on your shoulder blades reminding you of your missing pairs of wings, with a disappointed sigh you sat down on the red carpet. 

“Is there anything more you want to talk about darling?” Lucifer asked out of worry. Since a couple of days, he watched you closely as you sometimes looked outside with a sad expression on your face. You talked a lot less and sometimes you weren’t listening anymore to him. 

“It’s nothing Important.” That was a half lie. 

Even though you and Lucifer were very close and loved each other dearly, there was still a big elephant in the room. 

What was that with Lilith? 

And the way you thought about your wings, you missed them dearly. Now you know how Maleficent when she lost her wings from her own Lover, except it wasn’t Lucifers fault.

“I can see that you’re lying honey.” He snorted and chuckled and took your soft hands in his black clawed ones. “If you don’t want to share that’s okay. Only when you’re ready.” His voice was smooth like butter and his soft lips kissed your forehead softly. 

You take a deep shaky breath, “When I was in that Playhouse. Azrael showed me something.” Lucifer slit eyes switched onto your shaking hands, no doubt was that a very Traumatic event. 

He held them tight letting you know that he’s there for you and will protect you this time. “What has he shown you?” He asked carefully as he watched your eyes fill with sadness, a feeling that clenched around his heart in a hard force.

“You and Lilith, you two were kissing. Meanwhile I-“ A sob escaped your throat, and you laid your head on his chest. 

A pang of guilt resides in Lucifer as he stroked your back in circular motion. “I am sorry my Apple pie. I really hoped you didn’t see that accident, but I guess it was planned."

"She forced herself on me and right after I took care of her that she’ll never show herself back here. Please believe me.” His face was pressed on your hair and he took a deep breath in.

Well, you believe him. You believe him more than you do Azrael, you don’t even know him. 

Michael was dead, he was killed by his own twin brother Lucifer. 

How Ironic. 

You stayed in Lucifers arms a while until your cries calmed down. “Sorry to ruin your day.” Lucifer shook his head and chuckled, “You haven’t ruined anything! Besides we still have the whole night.” 

You started to blush, and your body started to heat up. 

A spark started to swirl on your back, and you felt something coming out. With a quick motion you grabbed some familiar soft feathers on your back and Lucifer whistled. 

“Seems you got your wings back cutie.” He bit his lips and brushed his clawed fingers softly down your Humerus towards the Manus and your body grew hotter every second. 

“Kinda Hot I gotta admit.”

A/n: I wanted to write smut in here but decided against it.

This is the most Pixelated image I've seen in my whole life. Neitherless a God piece.

💫

Sadly I couldn't tag you

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[ms0milk]

𝟏𝟔 | 𝐇𝐞𝐦 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"This is so much worse than fury, and you rip your hand away from his to take a step back. You didn’t mean to. Bakugou stares like a dragonslayer, heartbroken."

cw blatantly suggestive, an accidental kiss and the panic that follows. bkg doesn't know why he's been looking for you. you couldn't be angry about it if you tried. laughter, bite marks, magic, a warm hiding spot. 8.1k

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A slap across the face and the spatter of blood that follows in an arc across fine rugs. Bakugou bleeds when he tries not to think of you. You are too easy to be with and too difficult to find.

Your prince and fragments of rehearsal fineries that you would beam at if you appeared in this frigid foyer– which he knows only because you’ve done nothing but smile at him for seven cursed days– storms towards warmer hallways. There’s nothing for it but to track you down. He wakes up and you are not outside his door. He eats and meets and eats again and you do not materialize behind him or emerge from shadowed corners to brandish a weapon when unpleasant lords are unpleasant. Are you still following orders or are you finally sick of him?

Bakugou pretends he is not walking quickly. A maid has pointed him in your direction. The waitstaff here has no particular affinity for either of you, so they’ve tried their hardest to answer his questions this week and be rid of Alderans for the day. After all, once he finds you he doesn’t bother anyone else until dawn.

Find is a strong word, the maid thinks as she chews a dry lip. You don’t seem to be hiding from him.

It's the busiest morning, second only to tomorrow’s actual ball, and Bakugou has spent the whole of it in dress fittings and board meetings and appetizer tastings. He was meant to rehearse the first waltz with Fuyumi but for four days in a row she’s had her hands full with final adjustments to royal rosters and seating arrangements. The king is home afterall. And he does not dote on his daughter.

Bakugou turns up a second staircase once he arrives in the center castle and barks at a guard, stationed and startled, in the doorway where he emerges. Shinsou clutches his chest and stares at the imposing prince, heavy but silent.

“Boo. You seen my captain?” Bakugou only half-waits for a response from the apprentice before following his intuition to the left. You like to hide in odd places.

“Yeah,” Shinsou breathes and finds his position again, “carrying her lunch to the catwalks.”

Bakugou grins and hopes you can feel him wherever you are, rolling his eyes.

She was in common clothes– I think, headed towards the throne room.

Haven’t seen her, sir.

Your Alderan? It’s freezing, she should request a jacket from the supply corps.

Five days ago he found you rehousing spiders in the rafters of the greenhouse much to the chagrin of delicate flowers. Two days ago he finally spotted you among a dozen soldiers all helping the blacksmith resilver the inlay of the soldier quarter’s door. Yes, he’d told you to leave his babysitting to Kirishima but he didn’t expect you to listen.

Yesterday, Bakugou caught you wandering through the ninth-story walkways, the walkways sculpted onto the side of the castle like wasp nests where the archers hide. Your fingers gripped the hem of your padded tunic, red with cold, and your back pressed flat to the white castle marble even as you craned to gaze the city and sea over the edge of the balustrade.

Your prince almost screamed when he glanced out one of ten thousand pale windows in his search when instead of the depressing gray sky, it was your braids whipping in the wind outside, several stories higher in the air than he would have liked you.

“Eyes!” He jerked the window open and stuck out his head. 

“The marble is too smooth Highness, please stay inside.”

White pointelle curtains rattled on their rods with the ferocity of the afternoon wind. “Come now,” he’d barked. He swallowed a roar to keep from startling you off the wall. You turned from the view towards his outstretched hand and half a golden body out the little window, and smiled.

You smiled from the cobwebs when he asked you what the fuck you were doing in blue begonias. You smiled at him among the crowd when he mimed flexing from the gallery to mock the blacksmith. You smiled when he caught you practicing sword forms for bored children and again when he and Kirishima joined in. You smiled without thought and he warmed at the sight of it. He laughed.

He laughed when the florist shrieked over a clutch of spider eggs and he laughed when you hammered Aizawa’s door crooked in your distraction. He laughed when Kaminari tried to teach you to juggle apples in potion storage, and very softly he laughed when he found you asleep beside proofing ovens.

The castle’s vanity seeps into every orifice, it bleeds from the seamless walls and into seed-sized crannies. Family portraits, royal crests, kingdom’s colors, wards against death written in old Takoban like they think this is the only kingdom on the continent where people might live forever. Superstition and agitation nick the Alderan like thorns through cold blue hallways. He itches for forests. On the third floor of the East Wing there is a great open gallery. It presides over the grand staircase of the castle’s entrance so that an invading army couldn’t so much as piss over the threshold before the legion of soldiers that fit upstairs fired off their arrows.

It was only a matter of time before you found yourself a roost here, warmaster.

He knows where you are. He can hear the king shouting from an open door downstairs and crosses the entrance gallery, bathed in warm sunlight from its volley of windows. It takes him exactly as long to walk it as it takes stained glass heat to pink his shoulders and with a perfect golden hue he dips under a doorway to find you perched at the lip of a ledge. You’re always about to fucking fall off something.

You sit cross-legged behind a black railing, picking at the cup of fruit beside you. Your hair is getting longer, wilder, and your braids tumble with white ribbons as you follow the scene below. Two stories below the ballroom is awash in afternoon light and hundreds of potential floral arrangements with the king dead in the middle, roaring at artisans. Prince Natsuo is slightly behind him and his neck is an agitated red. You pop a berry in your mouth.

You were always going to love the catwalks– the thin system above important rooms that servants use to gauge crowds and light the tall candles. All of tomorrow it’ll be crawling with footmen and today it looks like it’s already been dusted in preparation, although it’s not meant to be seen. You sit comfortably in its shadows and watch.

Tension melts from his veins when he finds you and nothing replaces it, so Bakugou isn’t quite sure what he’s thinking when he slips inside to be closer. Jeanist taught him too, he can be quiet. You wipe juice from your lip with your thumbs and polish it with a lick. Your fingertips are purple. You run them through your hair to push the braids behind your shoulders and focus again on the agitated king and his crying arachnophobic florists.

“You stare like the best of ‘em,” Bakugou whispers as he drops behind you and cups a hand over your mouth in case you make a startled sound, although, you react before he actually finishes the thought or announces himself, and jerk forward to catch his gentle hand with your teeth.

King, prince, artisan, maids, seagulls, and dustbunnies pause their meeting to agree that a grunt did in fact come from the chandeliers and that they aren’t insane, before continuing their jury over the fate of the party decorations. A whiff of caramel is the only thing that keeps you from breaking the hand with your bite and just as quickly as you attempt to reveal the intruder through pain, you swing your arm around to cover the prince’s mouth before he gives away your position with a yelp or fireblast. The momentum flattens you both.

Maybe one day Bakugou will remember that you are filled with the same fire that he is, before trying to bother you. When did the urge to bother you even occur to him? Both of you, square on your backs to hide properly in shadows, are close enough for your hand to still be firmly planted over his face like a muzzle. He smiles first this time. You smell like blackberries.

Your prince wires his jaw shut when he laughs in the shadows to keep from kissing your palm. In the seconds that the king and his entourage fall silent, Bakugou can only just barely contain huffs from his nostrils and the wet at the corners of his eyes. You stare like always and he must have melted fast enough because horror and apologies haven’t tumbled out of you yet. His dragon’s nails have gotten longer. Loose and wild hairs frame the face he only ever knew as perfectly kempt and unreadable. He cannot stop finding new things to notice here on the itchy rug beside you and he’s grateful you have only covered his mouth because his firebrand eyes gleam when you succumb to your own smile. Immediately you hide it behind your own free hand to stay quiet and the pair of you swallow stupid mirth in the dark.

Where did his anger go? “Ow,” the prince rasps when he’s collected himself and pulls your hand into his.

“Excuse me, Highness,” you whisper back. Your smile still rattles him like a blow to the side of the head. What the fuck is it about you that makes his pulse drum? Bakugou rolls onto his back. If you were sick of him you probably wouldn’t lay so close.

He tilts his gaze back to you, “What are you doing up here?”

Watching, you mouth like you’re signaling him to shut up. You pull your hand away from his and look over your shoulder towards the ledge where roars and curses roll up from the king like crashing waves.

“Why?”

It’s as close as Bakugou has ever seen you come to rolling your eyes. You blink at him and press forward. Something horribly soft started to grow the night you helped him carry drunk friends to bed. Something like rot. It eats away at the strongest parts of him, the parts of him that are poised and beautiful and ready for war. It’s eating you too. The strongest parts of you that are silent and obedient and deadly.

You drag your body across the floor to be closer to him– so much closer– so close that your thigh practically drapes over his and you cup your hand to his ear so you can whisper an answer that he can’t even focus long enough to hear. Maybe the rot started earlier. Maybe he should never have picked a fight with you.

A sudden scream flies up from the ballroom and Bakugou reacts before you do, less to offer protection and more because he knows you’ll launch right off the walkway if he doesn’t hold you down, but still his hold is protective when the scream is followed by a pillar of white orange fire that flies high and soots crystals in the chandelier. It’s brief and scalding like a geyser and you are not strong enough to protest your prince tucking all of you under his chest in the interim. You smell like home, like forests like moss. The scent of the sea is finally falling out of your hair.

“In what world is this my responsibility?” the king seethes. His drop in volume is menacing and it echoes violently in the empty room, “pick your own fucking flowers, I have work to do.”

The ballroom doors are not meant to be closed or opened with such force and they scream louder than he can when he burns his way through, leaving the prince and his artisans in the cold and terrible hall. A ball in Takoba is an oxymoron. A malicious idea. Bakugou leans back on his arm to release you and sits up to watch Natsuo console his workers. The eldest Takoban prince wears patience well. Whose idea was this party? The same person who sent for Enji? Belligerent. Bakugou hasn’t seen the queen in weeks.

He grumbles before he turns to look at you, “Missed what you said.” But when he does finally look, you are so much Alderan that the cold of Takoba falls off his shoulders like frost. Maybe that’s why he’s been searching for you. The fire that only a life in his castle could stoke, ravages the blacks of your eyes. Even though you are silent, he knows what you’re thinking.

“Down girl,” he grins and kicks his legs out from under him to settle more comfortably. Flowers below are picked in whispered consensus and the room empties under your glare. The sun has started to set. The far wall of the ballroom is, in classic Takoban fashion, one long series of windows taller than most houses and the sea shines behind it in a trick of rolling warm shapes like smoke from a fireplace. You both linger at the edge of the shadows up on high. Bakugou watches you shamelessly.

“I will not attack the king.”

“Who’re you trying to convince?”

You think for a few seconds and turn to him with an awkwardly soft look that crackles into a smile too easily for you to be the same girl who grew up learning how to kill in his castle. Everything you do but fight is bizarre. Like blue fire, he cannot make himself look away from you.

“What’ll you do at the ball?”

“What do you mean?” The ballroom is empty so there’s no need to whisper but neither of you know how to talk to the other.

Bakugou cocks his head and doesn’t need to hope you know when he rolls his eyes anymore because he can finally do it in front of you. He crosses his arms, “Do you dance? I can’t think of anything else to keep you distracted enough to avoid assassination.”

But you are already distracted by something and he can see the moment you stop listening to him talk. All the better, he thinks. He might have just asked you to dance with him.

“Your hand Highness, I– mers–” and you reach forward to take up his bitten fist like touching him is suddenly the easiest thing in the world. Your fingertips are ice-cold. The rot spreads. “You startled me, I’m so sorry.”

Now Bakugou isn’t listening. You rub at the divots your teeth left in the side of his palm and press them like imperfections in pie dough. Your hands are so much more slender than his. So much rougher. Do you feel it too? The death of fury? How the ocean slowly laps at the bonfire until wood can no longer fight back? Do you remember the library like he does? He wants more than anything to sit in a nook and read for a thousand years in recovery from this trip. Is it a safe place for you, or has he ruined it? Do you miss home like he does? Or has he ruined that too?

“No. I’m sorry,” he admits before thinking. He startled you after all, but immediately he is silent with realization; breath holds in his lungs. Fuck, that’s not– you asked him so clearly not to do that. Is he incapable of leaving you with anything? You watch his fingers twitch for a moment like you can feel his heartbeat there and then look up at him and stare. He’s not sorry for sneaking up on you at all. That’s not what he meant.

Eyes was an apt nickname, if not a little mean. Bakugou has never envied telepaths before. How ignorant he was, to think of you as the bloody little girl in a velvet carriage. You hold his hand now with just as much strength as you did all those years ago; obviously it was strength and not desperation. You did not hang laundry to thank him. You did not catch fruit to thank him. You didn’t learn to fight the rain or windows or soldiers or the sea for your prince. It was only him, making magic for you.

“Never thought I’d hear a sheep apologize to the sheepdog.”

He startles a little, just a slight widening of his eyes, because you hold his hand up to see the ring of teeth clearly and cover your chuckle with the tips of your fingers.

“Callin me a sheep?”

“You are biteable like one.”

Do you know what you’re doing? Bakugou wonders as his own smile escapes the confines of horror. He snatches his hand back and leans against the black iron railing to face you. Quick wit, quicker draw, why do you hide such pleasant things under such a ferocious– the Alderan blinks and his face falls for half a second again in realization.

You blink back because you cannot read his mind, “Are you okay, sir?”

The same fire. If he stopped and thought for a single fucking second you wouldn’t have been the enigma protecting his home. You would have been a girl that he wanted very much, to talk to in his ceaseless boredom. He melts into a smile again and this time his teeth glint, “Don’t call me that.”

Winter really has arrived; the sun sets faster with each second and soon the ballroom below is a great orange pool. He was meant to rehearse the opening waltz today and the thought of you watching him, concealed, makes his ears hot. Florals drift up and up from their vases where they’re warmed in afternoon light.

You cross your legs and turn too, so that the prince isn’t just staring at a profile. “Are you looking forward to it?”

“To what?”

“The ball, Highness. Are they fun?”

“You’ve attended balls,” he grunts and scans his memory for the last party thrown in Aldera, although you don’t appear in the pictures his brain conjures up. “They’re fine. Loud.”

You nod. There are ten-thousand things he could think to ask you and a hundred more questions he knows that the answers will spur but sitting beside you in the dark without a threat to either of your lives is new and overwhelming. Your wild hair makes wild shapes.

“Fuyumi wants to dress you up.”

You don’t find that as funny as he does and you’re gawking when you turn from the view of the ballroom to look at him. He thinks you aren’t afraid of him– he hopes– but he knows you still won’t say what you long to for fear of sounding unprofessional. He’ll have to work on that.

“She gave up on Ochako years ago.”

“Is it a gown?”

“Takoban,” he rests his head on the metal too, enjoying all the scandalized expressions your pretty lips make, “frilly lace, the works.”

You consider this for a moment and make the shape of his name before swallowing it. One more time, “I see.” And you turn back away to think some more, about how to phrase something unprofessional. He’s teasing, he hasn’t seen the damn thing but for a moment your prince can see you so clearly, sewn tight into a dress made of sealace. You try to speak again, fail, and lean closer. Your breath is sweet from fruit and your bowl is empty behind you.

“I can’t wear blue for another second, Highness, I’ll hurl the tailor into the sea.”

Bakugou spits over the railing in amusement and huffs, a subdued panic, when he crosses his arms again.

“Highness please,” you chuckle, “I’ll get violent,” and you smile under the frown, which just serves to make you look even more like a dragon– like you’ll make good on your word– and less like an obedient footsoldier. How do you do it? What are you doing to him? Bakugou can only stare with a rough affection because if he tried to speak right now something might come out.

You run a hand back through your braids to settle them where you like them to lay. It’s draconic, regal, every way you sit perch and glare from the clearest part of any room. His mother calls it King’s Corner, or the Seat of the Queen, that perfect spot where you can see everything important without showing your back to a soul. That’s always where he finds you. That’s your secret. He pinches an ear between his knuckles to try and cool it down.

“Takoba’s lucky you aren’t a mage,” he manages. He has to look away to say it but he does manage, “should thank you for it.”

“I did try,” you don’t need to manage back. Proximity to him isn’t eating you alive. “And I don’t work for thank yous, thank you very much.”

When Bakugou was ten years old he celebrated his birthday in a parlor with boughs of cherry blossoms and sweets for which he never really had an appetite. He was doted on and he worked hard to deserve it so that anything he wanted to do that day, and any birthday thereafter, was his. You were not celebrated with cake. He wouldn’t know until years later that his mother brought you gifts and good food on your birthday because he could find you every day of the year at work somewhere in his castle. You did not fall ill, you did not fail, and on his birthday you, nine years old, practiced forms in the paths between spring orchards just downwind from the parlor. Jeanist was seated inside with him among the family’s guests. No appetite for cake. Bakugou only celebrated ten birthdays and you have never stopped breaking his heart.

“Tried what?”

You ruffle your own hair so you don’t have to look at him either because at least one thing embarrasses you. “Magic.”

“Magic.”

“It’s not funny,” you chirp at his flat tone and round on him with your legs crossed. He leans back when your voice comes out a bit louder than expected and his bitten fist aches when it clenches. “I would copy you.”

The rot makes him weak and useless and susceptible to your stare, but the rot makes you fearless.

“I used to watch you studying– when we were really little– when we were both supposed to be eating with everyone in the Hall. You used to,” you look briefly to your side like someone important might be watching you acting so casually and it dims that fire he needs in your eyes.

“Used to what?” he smiles. He knows you watched him, you must know that too. Finish, please finish your story, he wants to hear your voice tell you more about home.

“Used to watch you flail your chubby arms until sparks came out.”

When Bakugou laughs this time he tries not to hold anything back, if only just to douse you in oil and keep the fire alight. Fucking please, just talk.

“I used to try every night too!–” you laugh, slightly louder, “– wind up my arms tight and spin around my room after curfew– disturb the horses– pretend to be a dragon.”

“Your runty prince looked like a dragon?”

You grin, “My runty prince taught himself magic, didn’t he? What’s wrong with wanting to breathe a little fire?”

“I don’t breathe fire, dumbass.”

“You still make miracles. Ever seen a dragon?”

“Of course I have.”

“Have you ever sheltered from a spray of ethereal flames?”

He frowns and smirks, confused, as if to ask, why have you? And the flint tinder in the bright part of your eyes sparks white hot.

“Melting, crushing, it’s completely inescapable without a barrier mage,” you pull your knee up with a bit of theatrics and lean because with everything inside of you except for actual realization, you want him to listen too. “Pink and red, blue, green golden and white hot. Highness, has no one ever told you how beautiful your magic is? You make magic like a dragon, who wouldn’t want a blessing like that?”

No one would want this cursed fucking magic that prickles his palms with sweat in the dark for no other reason than because you are looking at him, when all he wanted was– he just wanted to see you– watch you, he didn’t need you to watch him back and now the fire of Aldera he keeps trying to warm beside will blast him all the way to the wick. This is the flattery he hears so much about from his blushing mother.

“‘s not special. My magic maims people.”

“So do I.”

He frowns deeper, “Not the same.”

“I worked hard to maim people, it’s not the same because what I do isn’t beautiful.”

“That’s not–” he doesn’t think that. Don’t think that he thinks that, “–work isn’t beautiful. War isn’t beautiful.”

“You’ve never seen war. Highness you make–”

“Fuck off,” he tosses at you like it’s ever worked before.

“I won’t.”

“Eyes–”

“– it’s beautiful.”

“I make bombs.”

“You make starfall.”

Bakugou stares. Rough affection, yeah right, he’s melting.

You fall back on your hips when you realize you’ve broken clear through the confines of professionalism and the embarrassment sets in quickly. Eyes dart sideways, chest and knees turn. Your embarrassment is a subtle grip on fraying rugs. What do you do to your heart to make it pull so strong in every direction? Is it a spell? One that makes him quiet and happy to wait for his silent guard to speak again. This must be how the queen feels. You turn fully back to the rising orange light of the ballroom below and your lips part before any words are actually ready to come out.

The first time you try to speak, he doesn’t hear you. Bakugou traces the path between your shiny scars with his gaze. One below your ear to the one at your eyebrow and down again, past an old cut in your cheek. You couldn’t douse the forest fire behind those lashes if you tried. Not under orders or oath. Not from embarrassment.

“What does it feel like?” You whisper, looking a great distance down past abandoned flowers.

Both of you have fallen closer to each other in the waves of your nothing conversation, so much so that your shoulders would press together if the rot just ate away a little bit more. Bakugou’s heart sinks into the ballroom. It plummets like a drowned man.

“Gimme your hand.”

This is a fucking mistake, but all your prince can see is the last time pure joy ever sailed across your face in an evening spent around your wonderful campfire. He caused and extinguished it with one spark thrown into your cupped palms, the last time you ever tried to make magic. “I won’t hurt you,” he rumbles even though it kills him to look at you now.

Your side of the catwalk begins to glow at the lips because the sun has set far enough to climb walls towards the ceiling. You glow with it. Pink in a thousand places, ears and throat, lips, because you’re thinking too hard about what it is to be a proper guard and how much it is probably not raising your voice to delight in magic that does not belong to you. The corners of your mouth tremble. Who was it that told you you talk too much?

“Is that an order?”

“No.” Of course not.

You study the details of the itchy rug for too long, in the new light at its edge. Bakugou used to hate hiding up here in the cold but it was the only place the idiot children his mother sent him here to entertain couldn’t find him. He couldn’t be happier now, now that no one but you can see just how hard he flounders without fury.

Your hips swivel back towards him in precise decision then you fold your knees neatly underneath them to get closer. A few white ribbons in your hair seem to catch fire as the sunlight climbs higher and the sun dips lower out an infinite distance. Every mile it is far, is a mile Bakugou can feel in measures of chill. If Aldera is at the center of the world, Takoba is the outer edge and you remind him just how blessed he is when his hand melts at your Alderan touch. You reach and pull both his fists into the space between your bodies from where they lingered in the air.

“Yes sir.”

“Don’t,” he breathes, watching all the shapes your fingers can make together. He’s a prince, this is ridiculous. He sits up tall and stretches his arms out so you don’t need to reach so far, and makes a safe place for your strong fingers, those calluses and scars, to rest atop his open palms.

“Don’t call me sir.”

You are looking at him and considering something about his face, or his words, who knows– one of your eyebrows twitches in decision. It’s remarkable how steady your heads are. You are sure of everything you do even when it’s destructive and disruptive and punishable by death.

Laid out plainly like this and stiller than either of you have ever been together, your fingers and wrists, your palms, even your fingernails are so much more delicate than his. Like if he closed his golden fists, you’d disappear. Compared to the princess you have the hands of a farmer, but not a single thought– past how each other part of your body might look beside his– is allowed to rattle through his head when you watch him, straight ahead, and smile.

“Okay.”

He clears his throat. He’s a mage and magic is easy. He’s not going to set off the sweat on the back of his neck. “Don’t be nervous,” Bakugou grumbles to the dark.

You grin and ghost a thumb over the warmth and damp of his open palm, “Who are you trying to convince?”

“It’s this stupid fucking magic,” he bites. A bead of sweat drips through his knuckles onto the floor and if he’s not careful he might take out half the castle. Prince and apprentice assassinate world’s most fucked up royal family– he can already see the dossier sitting pretty on his mother’s desk.

You’re suddenly in a wonderful mood and you sit up slightly at the beginnings of warmth under your fingertips. He can hear your knees squeak and count your heartbeats in the veins of your wrist that his own fingertips reach. Those eyes again– always your eyes. They’re colored like any normal pair anyone might ever see but he’s one of few people who watch the dragons. You must have watched them too, too long, for your gaze to become so similar.

It feels like any other second of Bakugou’s life. Setting fire to own hands and measuring the strength of his magic in reds and whites. It’s an ordinary moment for many whole seconds until your prince follows the beginnings of light up from his palms, to your starving and unabashed awe. The sparks bubble up as hungry fish would in a pond, and then jump, spit, between your fingers like cooking oil. Your touch is so gentle at first. You train and measure your own skill every day so that Jeanist’s recruits don’t lose varied limbs, but as your excitement wells up you spill a bit from your seams. You rise slightly higher and give him more weight to hold and your prince dissolves into a smile.

Four hands rest inside one another and fire from the dragons illuminates your hiding place.

“Highness,” you whisper and startle a thousand times at every new color Bakugou ignites between your fingers. You’re fully up on your knees now having risen higher and higher to watch his magic as best you can and Bakugou sits on the floor beneath you, rotting.

“Highness what,” he whispers back.

You abandon the thought and jump when a green sparkler squeals through the air between you, and when your prince thinks to pull away your fingers are already wrapped tight around every part of him you can manage. He could have done this for you a thousand times; your joy was always this simple, raw, and unjealous. Purple and gold soar across the highs of your cheeks and hug your jaw. It’s all he can bear, to love this smile and to know that his sweat is plastered across your hands and soaked through the cuff of your sleeves, and so he freezes with the realization and embarrassment and with your last words.

“Highness, thank you.”

He doesn’t have the wherewithal to speak yet. The smile he loves. The magic dies with his concentration and as the sun finally crests your walkway for its fleeting moments of warmth, Bakugou tries to muster something like confidence because you’re looking at him with a softness he didn’t realize you had. Is it overwhelming because he knows you could kill him? Maybe it’s because he’s never wanted to kiss anyone before.

Bakugou’s pomegranate eyes dart up to you, saying goodbye to the last of the light and something like sugar scalds his throat. That new thought is fleeting because your golden prince drains the life from it like a butchered animal– gods, can’t he leave you with anything?

“Told you I don’t bite,” he grins and swallows the last selfish thought to death, “that’s your job right?”

You beam before bursting into deep and hungry laughter in the sun-soaked air above him. Whatever. Bakugou supports you as you cling to his arms and struggle to stay upright in your laughter. You’re overflowing. He smiles and huffs, he can’t help that. He can’t help goosebumps either but you don’t need to know about those and he’ll never utter a word. He still needs to meet the dressmaker for alterations and finalize the appetizers, and make sure the kitchens send dinner to your door.

“Highness,” you breathe like a bird and try to collect yourself enough to stop laughing. You plop back onto your hips, “Highness–”

“Highness Highness,” he taunts. The sound of it will make his ears bleed. Bakugou palms for a handkerchief with one hand and lets you hold his other. You cling to the bite you left there. Your legs overlap. “This is ridiculous,” he chuckles when your joy almost folds you in half, “A real joke might kill you.”

“Let it,” you breathe, canines twinkling, and dip slightly closer, laughing, to press your lips to his.

It’s so easy, you don’t mean to. You are lightheaded in the warmth of the sunset, magic trembles across your sensitive skin and you only want to be closer. Just close enough to bury yourself in that place that is so safe and that fills you with such a horrible comfortable joy–

As Bakugou reaches inside his tunic for something you lean too close. Your chest falls over his lap before either of you remembers that it shouldn’t be like this, that there are a thousand other places your prince belongs and ten thousand rules you have engraved on the meat of your skull to keep comfort at bay. It’s so warm with your eyes closed and his smile tastes like cinnamon. He doesn’t pull away.

You only realize what’s happened after that smile falls dead against your lips. Venom and rage betray a soft exterior. He’s soft against your touch. He’s soft like he’s never fought a day in his life. Your hands hold his beautiful golden head right where you need it and in the quiet, your eyes open to blinding and beautiful sunlight.

A touch is all you wanted, gods know why– they’ll never tell you– and you draw your chin back an inch to breathe. Bakugou is staring violently and his eyes are more like targets now than cherry pits. Eyebrows wider, higher, than the sky, he stares like his heart has stopped. What happened? He doesn’t look like anyone but himself anymore. You freeze.

Prince Bakugou is staring at you until he’s not, on the itchy rug in the sunset of the great black catwalks, until his eyes close and he kisses you back. Soft, closed lips brush so hot they’ll leave a mark, they’ll brand you and everyone will know what you did. The doom spreads quickly. You have never been so graceless in your life as you are now, falling backwards out of his warmth and stumbling onto your feet. He’s still on the ground and you only know he is holding you because sweat drips from the fingers of yours that he clutches.

“Wait,” he gasps. This is so much worse than fury, and you rip your hand away from his to take a step back. You didn’t mean to. Bakugou stares like a dragonslayer, heartbroken.

You run. Before you can breathe or be reasoned with, before you hear him call your name, you turn and dash through the back doorway alone. If this were Aldera, where would you hide? The frozen air of the seashell castle whispers straight through your flesh as you, sprinting, stumble your way past the castle’s vanity. There is a nook in the wall of the principal staircase where only Jeanist can find you. There is a seat on a high window in the Great Hall that you can reach with a library ladder. There are two tiny battlements in the east corner of your queen’s castle without a real way to get inside and on any day but a lightning storm, you can wedge a hunting knife in loose mortar and climb the masonry over its edge to lay and nap and stargaze at the tallest point of the most beautiful kingdom. An ant couldn’t hide in Takoba. There’s not one dark seam for the bugs.

A guard barely moves in time to avoid being crushed under your boots because fuck this horrible waterlogged place. The ocean drips out of your ears like tears from a seashell, drop by drop because you picked a fight with the goddess and thought yourself lucky to live before you realized she had made a home for herself inside your heart. Now you laugh with your prince and you touch him happily and you spar with him and hold nothing back and you tell him how much his magic helped you to live.

Resisting the urge to kill him, fighting to win Mitsuki’s favor, the threat of blue fire and a mage you doused in the sea, it was all so much easier than this. It could have been that easy forever, what were you thinking?

“Y/n!”

You weren’t, that’s what being too content gets you.

When Bakugou calls your name again his voice cracks because you are so much faster than he is at slipping through corridors. There is nowhere to hide in this awful country. Why are you running? If you were just slightly calmer you might have known where you were but white windows will always look like white windows and Bakugou is not so slow that you can ever really outrun him.

You duck under a low wall and its hanging tapestry and emerge on the other side at the edge of a stretch of empty hall. Setting sunlight pours past ten silver vases and someone left a window open, so lace curtains flow around a pedestal with its silvery prize in the center. 

“Y/n, please.”

Agony. This isn’t what you want. When Bakugou calls to you one last time you have no choice but to face him because he has never asked for anything before, and when you do, tears drip off the highest parts of your cheeks.

He lets the tapestry fall over his shoulder and stops at the front of the long, long room. Neither of you speak for an eternity besides the sound of breath being caught again, him at the edge and you in the center being swayed by cold air. His shaggy hair has been pushed back too many times in his rush to follow you and his eyes glow unobstructed. Bakugou’s broad shoulders fit too perfectly into his baubled tunic. It’s easier to watch him than to think.

When he leans forward, you step back, and he pauses like you might start sprinting again.

He doesn’t realize there’s something rotten stuck in the depths of your throat that keeps you from straying too far.

“I–”

“Don’t be sorry,” he begs, reading your mind. He’s never looked like this once in his whole life. He fell a step closer in his panic and when you do not run, his fists unclench from where they draw blood at his sides. “Don’t cry.”

You shake your head and he cautions another step. How can you ever go home now? How much longer can you survive here? The thought is suddenly and immediately overwhelming and Bakugou freezes again when you drop your head into your hands. It’s too much, you can’t believe how badly you want to hate him again and how much easier it would be than this.

“Y/n,” he whispers. His voice is candled ash. You know exactly how close he is even with your eyes closed because Alderan fire is unmistakable and you know too that he’s giving you a moment to escape.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Prince Bakugou’s magic-worn hands reach up from where he wires them and you snatch them both, and all their kiln-fired warmth, out of the air before he can touch you like you might break the first finger that moves. You don’t mean to bare your teeth either, you hope you aren’t, if you are he doesn’t care. Your prince stands above you, brows knit and eyes stupid with worry.

“Forget,” you plead in whispers.

He pulls your grip higher so that he can rest his palms under your ears. You aren’t doing anything but hanging from him. He moves easily because you do not stop him and he brushes his thumbs over stray hairs and their wild shapes. Silence is worse than his rage, but he’s trembling and his eyes never once look away from yours. He’s studying, contemplating something that continues to break his heart.

“Highness.”

Bakugou cups your jaw like it might bruise and tilts your head up just enough to kiss you. He could not care less about broken fingers.

His lips quiver and press just once to yours before pulling back, reconsidering, and dipping into you again. Your hold on his hands and his hands at your throat are melting, shaking, sweating. His chest swells above yours. You melt with him because you have lost your mind and push against the body you know can hold you. It can pull you from a current and throw you over its shoulder. Bakugou can lift you in strong arms, he can make you laugh until not even an order could compose you at your station.

You part your lips to be closer. He tangles his fingers in your braids so that you can take whatever you want. Your prince tastes like his favorite pastries, and Alderan peaches, and gold, he tastes like he’s fireproof.

Wet drips from your bottom lip in the mess of it all, before Bakugou tilts your chin in strong hands to catch what he’s missed. The slick of your tongues, a clicking of teeth, you want to eat him whole. He’s going to devour you.

He holds your face now to move you as he’d like– four feet tripping over each other to find a wall– and you grip at the patterns on his tunic between stolen breaths and steps stumbled backwards. Magic crackles where he touches you like he can’t control himself. His voice comes out with his gasps in growls because there is too much and nothing to say. You have forgotten apologies.

“Your hands” he breathes between nips for the softest warm parts of you, “cold.”

“The window–” but he kisses you again before you can finish. His hands are shaking, he is a starving dog and still he holds you like you’re going to break. You terrify him.

How long have you wanted this? There’s not enough focus left for your brain to turn its wheel and if there was you wouldn’t have pulled him so close. You suckle at his lower lip because his heartbeat tastes like home and he lets you dip inside again when you’ve had your fill. He fills you with himself in return. Wet, soft against you. It’s clumsier than sparring, and so much warmer.

At the end of cold hallways, where servants bustle and where there is still work to be done, the guard who barely survived your warpath ducks out from under the tapestry. He only wanted to check you were okay, but in the almost empty hallway Shinsou’s hand falls slack and his baton slips from it. It rings out against white marble and your heart stops beating at the same time as your prince. Your wheel groans in its new turning. The guard stares and you bristle.

You do not hear what Bakugou says in your panic but he does not let you go so easily this time. You will run, you’ll find somewhere to hide in this prison because that is your job and no one has ever done it better than you and there you will figure out what to do.

The last breath you take before darting away is shared in the sunlight with your prince, and just as you tip in a hint of escape Bakugou cups your cheeks one last time to keep you still. Your claws jump immediately back around his. He stares. His eyes are a study over every scar and warm flush, the violence of your sudden caught fear, even the parts squished and wrinkled in his hold. His magic vibrates unlit through your skin for one more second just one more second he takes to look and then he whispers,

“Okay.”

You take off the moment he releases you to deal with the apprentice and slip as best you can around a blue-tiled corner. Seedsized carvings raise their axes and little white waves fall. Sparks fight the chill on your jaw.

You forgo the seaside for fear of worrying your prince again. Manure pools around your pretty white boots because in the stables, horses don’t mind if you need to cry. The ocean swallows the last of the sun and you are suddenly a child again rinsing the blood from her face and into the hay and finding a dark place to hide. Every step is labor. Agitated white stallions complain to you in a line about their dinner and restlessness, and about chickens roosting inside uninvited, and about the woman who has sat here for hours and done nothing to help them.

The port city of Takoba shimmers at twilight under the hill that the stable looks out on. Its waters are silver and beg you to join them on all sides from their great distance. They have the advantage as you turn your back to the view.

When you amble towards the last empty stall, a figure drowning in blue is perched on a bed of straw. She is sickly beautiful and she stares like she hates everything she gazes upon.

“Majesty,” you startle and forget to take a knee.

Where you tread carefully in borrowed clothes, the Takoban Queen is happy to ruin her gown sitting up to her hips in straw beside a very plain horse. She runs a brush over the sheen of its black mane.

“Yes?” She sighs, defeated, until she turns to you and cocks her head like she might have expected someone else. Hundreds of translucent layers fall over themselves in her skirt like a flower and catch imaginary light for every inch that she moves. There is an ache so deep in your bones, chilled first then charred like dipping cold hands in hot water, you struggle to compose yourself. You cannot muster the question of why a queen might be hiding in the belly of her stables but you could guess.

“You were crying.”

“Please don’t tell Mitsuki.”

When will you be allowed to go home? The queen looks between her horse and the space you haunt above her, and pulls a second curry comb from the depths of her soft straw seat. “They’ll find you if you stand in the open like that.”

The day drags on like a dream you have made from picturebooks of Aldera and the man that you will never be free of, but queens don’t much mind if you need to cry either. You crumple into the spot she digs out for you in the straw and until it is too cold, the two of you sit quietly in shit together.

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[pkshenanigans]

The S.I.M.P Gene

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Warning(s): Actually inheriting a dominant trait from his father righsldnsocsesssghhh~

A/N: Rewatching Saiki Kusuo with my sister and I don’t care about the risks, Kusuke is my husband. But this ain’t bout him.

Summary: Saiki is leagues away from resembling his father in any way, shape or form...Except...

——-

What a pain.

Of all the things to inherit from his father, why this? And why now?

He was having a hard enough time dealing with his classmates, you mean to tell me he had to worry about you, too?

No that he has any issue with you.

On the contrary, you were wonderful. Amazing, in fact.

He likes you.

And therein lies the problem.

Kusuo is very level-headed and he trusts his common sense.

Even though the world around him is… well… Not as level-headed and well-versed in the ways of common sense. 😅

So the realization that he is capable of having this… this unrestrained affection for you blindsided him.

Why is he doing your homework for you today when he is a firm believer in people taking responsibility for their own mistakes?! Oh well, it’s just this once.

He has no choice but to listen to other people’s problems, but why is he actively trying to help you with yours even though it’s going to be more trouble then he’s willing to deal with?! Oh well, it’s just this once. (It’s not)

Sigh. He can’t deny it. He likes you a little too much.

He likes how you aren’t afraid to say what’s on your mind, but at the same time you speak sense.

He likes that you have a good head on your shoulders. Every now and again you can’t help yourself with the Saiki gang, but the fact he can sometimes avoid being dragged into his classmates’ messes just by leaving with you whenever you don’t have time for it is quite refreshing.

He could actually trust you with knowing about his powers because you had a little secret of your own!

No, you weren’t a psychic too.

You had your own powers to keep under wraps.

He likes your laugh, unrestrained and full of feeling. It gets really embarrassing when you do it in public but when it’s just you and him, it’s fine if you let it rip!

——-

Can we talk about how he enjoys being seen with you by Teruhashi way more than he should?

Trying to ask him out in front of you as to intimidate and overshadow you, but at the same time she can’t let it look like a date because of appearances~

Kusuo is just done, and he’s not cool with Teruhashi snuffing you like that.

But you don’t even flinch. You were scared of no-one, and you better believe Saiki filled you in on what she was really like so you knew just how to deal with her.

“Hi Teruhashi, L/n here!” You wave your arm in a wide arc in front of Saiki, making your presence known.

“Given how nice you usually are, I’m sure you didn’t mean to pretend like I wasn’t here-“

‘She definitely did.’

‘Oh, I know.’

You slide over to Saiki, arms touching at the elbows. “-but Saiki’s taking me out this weekend…”

“Oh, r-really? If you don’t mind me asking, where are you going?”

At this, you waved her off. This girl really had it bad for Kusuo. Well, too bad, your plans come first. “It’s a secret~”

It drove PK’s perfect pretty girl nuts!

‘Seriously?! That girl’s been here a whole three months, there’s no way she hasn’t done some exploring on her own! She must be using her ‘new girl’ status to get close to Saiki! Saikiiiiii!!! You CAN’T think she’s prettier and more perfect than me, you just CAN’T!’

Kusuo didn’t know if he could say you were perfect, but he could say without hesitation he preferred looking at you over her. Also, considering that he liked you… a lot…

And he didn’t like Teruhashi… at all…

The comparison just couldn’t be made. Not without making a permanent enemy out of every man in the universe.

He was relieved that he didn’t have to go on another date with Teruhashi. He knew you were only baiting her because she had been rude, but he couldn’t ignore the pleasant humming his heart was doing when you revealed that you were also defending your plans together because you really wanted to spend time with him.

“Sorry, I may have made it seem like more than it was…”

‘No complaints here. I’d rather not go anywhere with her.’

——-

While he was alone one day, investigating these… *gulp* feelings… he ended up getting an unexpected unwanted phone call from his older brother.

At first, he was just gonna let the phone ring. He had more important things to worry about and his super villain brother was not one of them.

But Kusuo knew Kusuke wasn’t going to be snuffed that easily. He’d call the house phone next and his mother would make him talk to him or worse, he would show up in person.

He was better off taking this call and getting on with life.

And baybee! Somehow. Someway.

Kusuke called asking about you. 💀

Like, how sway? Kusuo didn’t say a thing about you, made certain not to alert his parents of your existence but he still found out!

“Silly, did you forget that I see everything? You’re slipping~”

Oh right. His brother spies on him whenever the mood strikes him.

Ugh. Pain.

Having his brother in his business was thee last thing he needed right now. But he may as well get a second opinion. So he spills a teensy bit of tea.

He admits his strong attraction to you, despite the two of you being just friends, and it’s not even in the way most high school boys are attracted to girls.

He suspects that, despite his better judgment, he might be letting you have your way a little too often, even when it doesn’t benefit him in the least to indulge you. To be fair, the amount wouldn’t look like much from a normal person’s perspective.

It’s just a huh-yuuuuge leap for Kusuo personally.

He doesn’t even pursue relationships, but you don’t push him to be one way or the other and it makes him want to reconsider.

And Kusuke, classic evil Kusuke, had to pipe up and say the worst thing ever.

“The answer is very simple, little bro. You’ve inherited dad’s simp gene, and the trait is surfacing for this L/n girl.”

……..The AUDACITY!

Kusuo hung up right in Kusuke’s face. He should have known better than to expect anything helpful from him. Not about this…

A simp, huh?

Laughable.

The idea was as impossible as it was ridiculous. Saiki Kusuo was many things. A simp he was not. He knew better than that.

And yet… The more he thought about it, the more similarities he found between the way his father talked about his mother and the way he felt about you.

He was not a simp, but every day spent with you, he felt as if he were slowly creeping towards something scarily close….

Ugh. NO!!!!

While most boys wanted to be just like their fathers, the thought that Kusuo actually might have inherited something, anything from his father, wasn’t a pleasant one.

And this was the worst possible trait he could have gotten. Well. Aside from the freaky skill of polishing $300 leather with one’s tongue but we’re not getting into that.

For a week straight Kusuo gave his father the cold shoulder. Every attempt at any father-son bonding was rebuffed and he refused to help him with his powers.

“I don’t get it Kusuo, why are you being like this! You’re even more surly and cold-hearted than usual!”

‘You cursed me with your incurable disease. I’ll never forgive you.’

“What are you talking about?!”

It took his mother, his grandmother, his friend group AND you to patch the bridge between the two of them.

Oh well, he’ll figure out how to deal with his feelings.

He’s Saiki Kusuo. Making the most messes was his unfortunate specialty.

[livingemkayde]

ch vi. bruises

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter six of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. ooof okay where to start, smut unprotected p in v, mentions of bruising from sex? fighting like actual real life fist fighting, rough but sweet sex, grinding, lowkey some cockwarming?? kinda unwanted kissing, tommy being annoying and somewhat overbearing, and unwanted touching, but not sexual. caroline. just, caroline. because she deserves her own warning for this one. no use of y/n.

summary: everything comes to a head at tommy's birthday party.

a/n: this is genuinely the longest part/chapter thing i've ever written so enjoy. tommy is really annoying in this one, im still deciding if he's going to have a redemption arc. sorry this took so long. as always, i love you all so much. MY TUMBLR LITERALLY SHIT ITS PANTS WHEN I TRIED TO EDIT THE TAGLIST SO IM SORRY IF YOU GUYS GOT TAGGED LIKE 400 TIMES.

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel says, almost a whisper. You’re still not sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy. You can't take your eyes off Tommy’s gaze. From the looks of it, Joel’s question makes Tommy more angry and way more confused.  “Joel,” you say, trying to look for any indication in Tommy’s face that he’s not going to go bat shit crazy. “‘S fine. We’re okay.”  But Joel doesn’t listen. Because he’s Joel Miller and maybe you can’t see it right now, but you can hear the concern dripping off his tone—an indication that he won’t ever leave. Not now. So he stalks towards you both and you try to shake your head no, and he doesn’t listen. 

You can almost remember it like it was yesterday. 

A few weeks back, the first time you invited Tommy in for a drink after dinner. Sarah was asleep back at the house, Joel was doing — god knows what. The sun was set, the mosquitoes were probably out, and there was a quiet, even maybe too quiet silence when Tommy pulled up to your house. 

He had asked what the rest of your plans were for the night. 

You had said nothing much, not knowing it was an invitation — he stayed till 2 a.m. that night. 

But it was okay. Because he made you laugh and you enjoyed his company. He was interesting. Tommy told you about how he never wanted to go into contracting in the first place. About his broken bones, his all time biggest regrets, how he was smitten with his old high school flame turned mean cheerleader until graduation. 

It was the first time you ever realized he was — well — his own person in the sense. Not just Joel’s younger brother. But Tommy. Tommy Miller. 

Maybe in another life Tommy might’ve even been good for you. A perfect pair — a match. He wasn’t mean and brooding and he certainly didn’t have 12 years on you. 

And he made you smile. And he was genuinely—genuinely interested in your life. Your post grad prospects, college, books, and even how you played soccer just like Sarah when you were younger.

But when he leaned in that night, closer to you than ever before. You froze. Like genuinely frozen, and you couldn’t even dare to look down to his slowly approaching lips, let alone how his arms caged you in. 

“First kiss?” you remember him asking.

You had just stuttered out nonsense, not wanting to breathe too hard and run the risk of pushing your lips flush with his. 

“I — um —” you nervously laughed. You couldn’t even think—not in the way you should—not when the first person that comes to mind when Tommy says, kiss is his brother. 

He had leaned in closer then—more tentative. Like you were a scared deer in headlights or a frightened kitten and he was inching forward, wanting to move closer. 

But you didn’t really do — anything. 

And he had pulled back a bit, gave you a teasing look and a ruffle on the head and continued with the conversation.  

In all honesty you were scared that he might've been inching forward to kiss you. The small fear settling through a slightly erratic heartbeat and nervous laughs. 

You were scared then, but can’t really remember the last time you’ve felt this kind of fear. 

Hurt, discomfort, shock, maybe. 

And although it was being quickly replaced with anger, you don’t remember this feeling — this kind of fear. Not even the kind you get from watching a scary movie — where you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins and then dissipating when the screen goes dark, and the lights turn back on and all you have to worry about is if the scary nun from the big screen will appear in your dreams. 

You can remember all the last times you’ve gotten mad, sure. Mainly at the Miller brothers. 

But never fear — well, not until right now. 

Because whoever that Tommy was is definitely not the same guy staring back at you right now, with a bruised fist, an angry look swirled with hurt marked permanently on his face and one emotion that you can definitely place behind his eyes — jealousy. 

_

Some hours earlier. 

You spread colorful tablecloth over the mismatched tables in Joel’s backyard. The string lights are being hung up, Joel stands on a ladder towards your right, the sound of a hammer echoing through the small backyard. 

You pick your phone out of your back pocket, checking the time. You also find it in you to check Tommy’s texts again, but no other messages have been sent since last night. You look down at your phone — at the messages — and sit against one of the tables. 

Yesterday: 

You: can we talk in person?

Tommy Miller: I’ll see you tomorrow at the party?

You hadn’t seen the text until this morning, when Joel and you found it in yourselves to get out of bed, have a shower, and start setting up for the party. So when you saw it, you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat. 

You’re a bit nervous at the prospect. You did not want to talk to him at his party—honestly just trying to text him so that the air would be cleared for the party. 

But his words echo in your mind. 

“Just think ‘bout it before you say no.” 

You let out a cursed sigh. 

Tommy had to know. Right?

If he knew the dreaded ‘no’ was already braced on your lips he had to know. That this thing between you and Tommy would never work out. That you’re way better as friends. That it would ruin everything — the dynamics of it all — that you were smitten with his brother and you guys had just slept together for the second time without Tommy’s knowledge and that—

“Alright?”

Joel stands in front of you, dipping his head to see a scowl marked on your face. You quickly — maybe even too quickly — forget about the messages, hell, forget about Tommy. 

Because Joel looks handsome. He’s always handsome, you’ve thought since the moment you met him at the bar. There’s something intoxicating about him, his arms, the curve of his neck. His brooding nature does him justice — a uniqueness about him that makes you want to uncover more, learn more, see more. 

You remember last night—very vividly through small ebbs and flows of sleep. The moonlight seeped into your skin as you both rolled around in gray sheets. 

It makes your cheeks heat a bit at the thought. 

You remember everything. Every little detail. You don’t think you’ll ever forget. 

You tuck your phone back into your pocket. 

“Yeah, sorry. ‘S just…” you trail off, he nods his head in understanding, coming closer to you. 

He braces his hands on either side of your body, caging you in. Your faces study each other’s mere inches apart. 

“Tablecloth givin’ you trouble?” Joel teases in a soft whisper, looking down at your lips, then back to your eyes. 

“Funny,” you say with a grin and run your tongue over your lips. 

“You need help, baby, all you gotta do is ask.” Joel’s small smile plays on his lips for a fleeting second. You miss it as soon as it’s gone. 

“Duly noted. But I’m not the one who’s been hanging up string lights for the past hour.”

He pats your ass a bit, teasing you and pushing out a playful sigh. 

“Perfection takes time.” 

Joel’s beginning to dip his head to kiss you, but you find it in you to bite back.

“And yet the left side’s still lower than the right,” you whisper, pulling your head back slightly. He turns quickly to look at the fence, but gives you a harder slap on your ass when he realizes the lights are, in fact, straight. 

Joel chuckles, pushing off from the table, you turn back around to continue fixing the cloths, and look back at him over your shoulder. 

He’s looking back at you too. 

“You’re killin’ me,” he says, and you smile to yourself when you turn back around. 

_

You look around the backyard and check your phone for the millionth time since the party started. You can hear Sarah running around, screaming a bit while jumping into the pool. But your brows furrow when you find that Tommy still hasn’t texted you. 

You spot a tuft of red hair swinging through your vision and spin to find Janet Baker squeezing through the crowd. 

“Janet!” you say, approaching her quickly. You’re happy to see her—Tommy didn’t invite many people you’re familiar with. 

“Hey, Doll. Thanks for the invite!” she says, pulling you into a quick hug, but when she sees the look on your face, her mouth drops into a frown. “Sweetie, you okay?” 

“Yeah, sorry. I—Tommy didn’t…I don’t really know anyone here,” you reply while sheepishly looking around the small, bustling backyard. It’s the kind of feeling you try your best to avoid. Like everyone is in on some secret joke that you have no clue about. Or everyone knows each other and you can’t even put faces to names because you don’t know any names—like right now. 

“‘S fine—I’m happy to see you made it,” you let out a defeated chuckle. 

“‘F course, baby. Charlotte really wanted to see Sarah,” she nods towards the girls in the pool, Charlotte’s red hair looking strikingly similar to the woman standing in front of you. Janet seems to be on her second drink of the afternoon, you saw her tipping back a solo cup out of the corner of your eye earlier. 

“What are you drinking?” you ask her, nodding at her cup. 

“Someone brought a fancy lookin’ wine I popped open,” she says, giving you a sly smile. “Why don’t we get you a drink? You’ll like this,” she says, you don’t have much time to react, she’s already pulling you towards the drink station. 

You both settle into a comfortable silence, looking around the backyard while Janet pours your drink. 

“So,” she says, giving you a wink. 

“So…” you echo, sending a nervous laugh her way. 

“Who’s that girl,” she nods towards Caroline while passing you a cup, you take a big sip, Janet fills it back up to the top without a second glance. 

“Caroline,” you say looking at her and Joel. They’re talking to some other people, a small group of them congregating by the barbecue. 

“Caroline…” Janet tests out on her tongue, willing you to continue. 

“Caroline—Joel’s,” you can’t help but chuckle. “date. I guess.” 

“That bother you?” she says, finishing the bottle of wine while the two of you walk back towards the edge of the pool so she can watch Charlotte and Sarah. 

“Nope,” you say, and it’s not a lie. Sure, it might be a little weird to see another woman clinging to his arm after yesterday. But you know now. And that’s all that matters. 

“Joel can—” you laugh again, “—Joel can do what he likes.” 

Janet stops walking suddenly. You tear your gaze away from Joel and look at her with a confused furrowed brow. 

“Sweetie…” she says with eyes that look way too knowing for your comfort or peace of mind. 

“Janet…?” you say, though her gaze just intensifies. 

“You mean to tell me it happened since I last saw you?”

Your eyes widen, a shocked look crosses your face and you quickly try to replace it with a bad mask of confusion. 

“W-what? I—” 

“Don’t lie to me, doll,” she warns, and she looks like she really means it. 

“Janet…” you say in a not as effective and halfhearted warning tone back. 

“Don’t you dare,” she wags her finger—a final warning. 

What has gotten into you and why can’t you find it in yourself to lie to this woman?

“Don’t te—” she gasps, “Janet, I mean it. Do not tell anyone.” 

She shuts her half open mouth and makes the my lips are sealed motion across her face. You laugh while stealing a glance at Joel. 

“I told you,” she whispers to you in a hush, joining your eyeline towards Joel.

You stay silent for a moment, just taking everything and everyone in—but at the same time just looking at Joel. when you finally break the silence you’re a bit shocked at your question. You’ve never talked about Joel like this with someone who actually knows him. Everything has always been a secret—like you were supposed to be ashamed or something. You never were.  

“How did you know?” you ask, hushed. You’re not sure she’ll even hear you. 

“Would love to say it was intuition, sweetie—but—it was him. It was written all over his face.” 

_

You stayed with Janet for the better portion of the hour, all through silent peaks at your phone to see if Tommy had texted you. When it was getting to the point where people were getting curious, you’ve just about had your limit. 

You approach Joel quickly, you don’t miss Caroline’s stunned face but you really can’t be bothered with—that—right now. 

“Joel?” you ask, pulling at his arm a bit, he excuses himself from the group and follows you towards the backyard's edge. 

“Where the hell is your brother?” you whisper.

“He’s not here?” he asks, the same hushed tone also pushing through his voice at your question. 

“No! I called him, but he’s not responding,” you pipe back while pulling out your phone. Though the lack of notifications from Tommy—just as before—tells you enough. 

You both look at each other for a fleeting second. But the same worried look is probably etched on both your faces — fuck. 

“This fuckin’ guy,” Joel mutters under his breath while pulling out his own phone and then putting it up to his ear. 

You pace around the small area you and Joel are in, observing the unfamiliar faces. 

“Nothin’,” Joel grovels, taking a peak over the fence towards the street to see if Tommy's truck has pulled up. “I’ll try ‘im again — just — you should mingle,” he says, still looking down at his phone. 

“‘S fine. I don’t really know anyone here anyways,” you say absentmindedly, looking through your phone for Tommy’s contact and putting your phone up to your ear. 

You hear yelling and shouting from the entrance to the backyard. You slowly lift your head, reluctant to tear your eyes away from frantic texts. 

You spot him, in all his glory. Tommy Miller. Two hours late to his own birthday party—though he looks like he couldn’t care less, hugging old friends and new ones. He spots your eyes in the crowd and you can’t even be bothered to smile, a frown is almost permanently placed on your face—Late to your own birthday party? 

He nods his head toward the house, a silent invitation to talk when he’s done greeting the guests. You nod back and turn to Joel, Tommy turns to everyone else. 

“He’s here,” you say, pulling Joel out of his own phone, he does a double take towards the entrance and huffs out a groan. 

“Goddamn idiot,” Joel says, running his palm over his eyebrow. 

“I’m gonna go—” you say, nodding towards the house, towards Tommy. 

“Yeah. Alright,” he replies, though he looks a bit concerned and unfocused, looking towards Tommy, then back to you, “You need me, ‘m there.”

“‘M not telling him about us on his birthday and It’s Tommy, Joel.” 

Tommy—harmless. 

Though Joel’s look sends a sweat to your palms for some reason. You don’t know why he’s worried. 

It’s Tommy. It’s fine. 

Right? 

You hope as much as you make your way through the crowd. You beeline for the house and slip past the sliding doors into the kitchen where cups and bags of chips lay open and equally sprawled. 

You can hear the door slide open and shut again behind you as you try and salvage the mess. 

“Baby,” Tommy says, rounding the corner and coming close to you, “‘M sorry. The concrete guy was supposed to drop off the shipment tomorrow but he came today and needed a signature—” 

“Tommy, it’s okay,” you almost have to will yourself to say. You also have to remember it’s his birthday. 

He looks down. 

“‘S okay. It’s your birthday. Happy birthday,” you reassure with a small smile. 

“Looks great out there,” he says, fiddling with his phone in his hand. 

“Thanks.” 

You’re suddenly a bit nervous. You hadn’t really thought about everything that had happened when Tommy being late to his own birthday party was blanketing all the drama. But he’s here now, and you have no idea what to say. Maybe it would be better to not say anything at all—not address the fact that he asked you out, or you and Joel. But that guilty gnawing feeling eats you alive the longer you stand in silence. 

“Joel helped you?” 

“Yeah. I went shopping yesterday and dropped off the stuff here then we set it up this morning,” you say, nodding towards the backyard and then your car parked out front. 

“You went shopping on your own?” he almost sounds offended. 

“I wanted to go on my own.” 

Tommy doesn't look convinced. 

“Really, T. ‘S fine,” you brush off, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing your arms. He stares at you from the other side of the kitchen. 

“Caroline here?” he asks, a hesitant look on his face as he switches from looking at the ground to your face—almost like he’s looking for a reaction. 

“She’s out there somewhere,” you nod, keeping a neutral face masked with a small smile. “You should mingle. Just wanted to make sure everything was alright.” 

But he doesn’t move, he just keeps fiddling with the case on his phone again, looking down to the floor—his feet. 

“I— you said you wanted to talk in person.” 

Shit. 

You both look at each other, waiting. A game of cat and mouse. 

“It can wait, T. Enjoy your party,” you say, gesturing to the crowd outside. 

“Is it about—is it about what happened Friday?” 

“Tommy,” you say, almost warningly. This situation is shitty enough as is. You really don’t want to spoil everything—even if there’s nothing left to spoil. 

He doesn’t say anything. His thumb fiddling with his phone is the only sound coming from inside the kitchen. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. Almost unbearable. You crack way quicker than you’d hope to last. 

If he wants it like this, at his own birthday party, then so be it. 

“Fine. I just—I wanted to…” you scramble for words but they jumble in your mind. 

“I’m—” you fall short again. “About what you said. What you asked me. I don’t think that it’s…something I want. I’m—sorry.” 

“You don’t think it’s something you want? Or you know that—” 

“Tommy,” you say, giving him an awkward stifled laugh. Like he’s being childish with his response. Because he is. “I don’t—I’m sorry.”

He turns away from you suddenly, towards the window above the sink and just stares at it for a long time. You can see his chest puffing. When he finally turns back around, it’s different. It’s the Tommy you know. 

“‘S okay,” He says. 

Maybe he’ll get over it quickly—you hope. 

“Are you okay? I’m—I mean I hope that this doesn’t change anything since I’m still gonna be around—” you lift your arm up to run a ragged hand across your forehead and through your hair, you don’t even notice that your shirt riding up, “— I just don’t want it to like—” 

“What is that?” 

Your eyes snap to Tommy’s, confused. You think he might be looking out the window again but his eyes trail to you, but lower. Like he’s looking at your hips—because he is. You’re still confused for a second, before examining your shirt, looking for stains or anything out of the ordinary. But you don’t find anything, your top spotless. 

“What? I don’t—” 

“No—” he takes a couple quick steps forward, into your space, you try to find his eyes—yours blown out with confusion and shock but his are trained and laser focused to your waistline. 

“What’s—” he tries to pull up your shirt, you shove him back out of reflex. “You’re hurt, what happened t’you?” 

He almost pins down your hands to see your skin under your shirt, dipping his head to look at your waist and hips and you suddenly know. You know there are hand shaped bruises littered across the skin of your waist, turning it deep purple. Handprints that match Joel’s exactly—almost like they’re burned into you. You saw it this morning. It’s why you didn’t bother to put on a swimsuit and decided to keep a top on instead. 

What’s even worse is you know Tommy saw it too. 

“Tommy!” you’re yelling now, fighting his grip. 

You slip up, unable to get a good hold on his wrist like he now has on yours and he pushes the shirt up to reveal the bruises. 

“What the hell is that?” 

“Fucking—get off!” he backs away with your second shove, a different kind of look on his face. “Jesus,” you huff out, yanking your shirt back down. 

You both stand there. A pregnant silence between you. You can almost hear the gears turning, he stares blankly. Putting it all together. Like maybe you’re not hurt, but you wanted it—wanted it from another man. Somewhere in the back of his mind he might keep wishing someone hurt you so he didn’t have to feel so betrayed. So when he asks, it’s like he doesn’t want to admit that it’s true—the quiet possibility of someone else in the picture. 

“Who,” he says slowly, pointing down to your waist, “did that?”

“Tommy—” you say, but footsteps cut you off, you both turn your head to the entrance of the kitchen as Joel rounds the corner. He looks out of breath and his eyes flicker from Tommy and his finger pointing down at your waist then back to you. 

“We alright in here?” Joel stands, hesitant, his fingers play with the bottom hem of his shirt in an anxious way. Like he doesn't know what he’s just walked in on—you’re not entirely sure you know the answer to that either. You aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy so you stay silent, waiting for the man in front of you to respond. 

“Yup,” Tommy replies, too angry to be believable. 

Joel looks at you but he doesn’t say anything. Not out loud. 

No. You try to say with your eyes. We are definitely not alright in here. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel says, almost a whisper. You’re still not sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy. You can't take your eyes off Tommy’s gaze. From the looks of it, Joel’s question makes Tommy more angry and way more confused. 

“Joel,” you say, trying to look for any indication in Tommy’s face that he’s not going to go bat shit crazy. “‘S fine. We’re okay.” 

But Joel doesn’t listen. Because he’s Joel Miller and maybe you can’t see it right now, but you can hear the concern dripping off his tone—an indication that he won’t ever leave. Not now. So he stalks towards you both and you try to shake your head no, and he doesn’t listen. 

He stands beside you, putting a flat sprawled palm on Tommy’s chest and silently tries to push him backward. But Tommy breaks first, pushing Joel’s hand off him, staggering back while looking at you and Joel.

And maybe he gets it then, you think. Because Tommy lets out a deep chuckle—like you’ve got clown makeup on. Like he’s never seen anything more funny. He’s a lot of things but he is not fucking stupid. So he looks past Joel to your eyes. To your face, almost covered—ridden—in guilt and he can see everything. 

“Really?” Tommy says, not sparing Joel a glance. 

“You put your fuckin’ hands on her?” Tommy says, almost at a whisper which makes it all the more intimidating. You can see Joel’s back puff, his anger rising. But you also know Joel would never hurt his brother. Not on purpose.

But you’re scared. You’re really fucking scared in this moment because Tommy is entirely too worked up and you know whatever excuse Joel is going to say won’t help. 

“Easy,” Joel says, his voice cutting through the tense silence. 

You’re sweating. The hot summer of July in Austin getting to you. They stare at each other for a long time. Like at the kitchen table, like when you all first met. But this time, Tommy breaks, and his eyes flicker to yours, he takes a tiny step to the side so he can see you better. 

“Is this why? Is this why you’re fuckin’—jesus, fuck. ‘S this why he went to get you a tire?” you stand, you can’t really say anything, your stunned figure doesn’t move.  

“He hurt you,” Tommy breathes out, his voice almost breaking if he wasn’t so angry. You shake your head. 

You both know that the bruises aren’t from hurt. That they’re far from it. 

“He didn’t,” you reply. 

“No, no, baby. He’s—you’re—” Tommy almost looks like he can’t believe it, shaking his head, switching between you and Joel. The look you give him shuts him up, and makes him back away, until Joel unclenches his fists and relaxes his shoulder a fraction. 

“I didn’t really want to tell you like this, I was—” 

“Fucking my brother?” he bites back, interrupting you. 

That makes you a bit mad. You’re not in love with his attitude, nor his tone. It’s not like he has any right. It’s not like either of them do. 

Joel moves to speak but you do it first. 

“Don’t give me that,” you say, almost laughing, though the situation is not funny, not in the slightest. “We’re not dating, Tommy. We never were.” 

Caroline strides in at that, looking at the scene unfolding in the kitchen. She stops short of the three of you, her mouth slightly agape. You roll your eyes, fucking perfect. Let’s just bring the party in here instead. You’ll give it to the woman. She has impeccable timing.

“Needed some napkins…” she trails off, holding the empty napkin stand in her right hand up so everyone can see. “I—I can come back.”

“Did you know?” Tommy turns to her, gesturing to you and Joel. 

“Tommy,” Joel says from in front of you, a warning. Tommy ignores him. 

“Did you know?” he asks again, Caroline stares back shocked. But she does consider it, rolls the idea around in her head before speaking. 

“Them two?” Tommy nods. “Her?” 

Okay. You really don’t love that tone. You silently chastise yourself for thinking she was nice at the bar when your first instinct was that she was a bitch—because she is. You were waiting for her snarky undertones or spoiled takes to show. You knew it was coming, you just didn’t know when. 

“No, ‘f couse not.” She’s almost laughing, like it could never be possible. It hits you harder than you’ll ever admit. “She’s — you’re…young,” she says, looking at you. 

Tommy gestures to you and Joel like he’s saying, well believe it, because it’s true.

Joel moves faster than you can comprehend. He’s got a tight grip on Tommy’s arm. He probably doesn’t even have to say anything, Tommy knows what’s happening. But Joel warns him anyway—again. 

“Quit,” he growls. You’d guess this might be the point where Tommy usually backs down. But this situation is far from usual. 

“Or what?” Tommy bites back. When Joel doesn’t respond he continues. “You gonna mark me up? Leave me all black and blue?” 

Tommy doesn’t stop there, you try to move past Joel but he stops you, turns his head to you slightly, a hardened look in his eye.

“Oh, I forgot you’d probably like that, huh?” 

Joel remains frozen for a couple fleeting seconds before whipping around and pushing Tommy into the back counter. You’re rooted to your place, you don’t even care that Caroline is still in the corner, holding the fucking napkin holder in the air. 

“What’d you say?” Joel barks in Tommy’s face. 

“Look at her fuckin’ stomach, dude!” Tommy throws the words in his face, pushing him back slightly and making a vague gesture in your direction, it causes your feet to move towards the brothers before you can think. 

Joel backs off then, sneaking a tiny glance at you out of the corner of his eye, like he really is thinking about the marks he left on your waist. He had seen them this morning, ran his fingers over them too, and saw how the notches matched the curves of his fingers perfectly. But you kissed him, and told him it was okay. That it was more than okay. Maybe even whispered that you liked it between muffled groans. So when a glint of guilt flashes in his eyes it makes your heart break more than it already has. 

“She said no,” Joel says, looking back at Tommy. A tense silence follows—like you’re not sure if Joel is going to continue or Tommy is going to bite back.

“Get back to your party,” Joel growls after a while. You bite your lip.

Tommy looks at Joel with unwavering eyes. His glance turns towards the window where he can see the bustling crowd—can almost hear the laughter. Then he looks down to his hand, outstretches it, undoes his gnarly fist, and when it curls back up again, you finally bite. 

“Tommy!” you say, moving closer. But it’s too late. Joel’s figure knocks to the side and his hand instinctively grabs his face, his nose, his eye. Maybe the worst part about it all is that Joel doesn’t even look remotely surprised, or that he wants to fight back—he just stays there, a little hunched over when you yelp in shock and Tommy groans, shaking out a now bruised fist. 

“Fuck,” you almost yell, your body doesn’t know what to do between bending down to see Joel’s face and looking at Tommy—at his face—because you don’t recognize him. 

Joel almost huffs out a laugh, and to shut him up, to get him to bite his tongue, you speak again. 

“Okay. We’re done here,” you say, pushing Joel towards the entrance of the house, towards your car. 

And Caroline is there, pushing Tommy towards the couches and for the first time, you’re grateful for her. 

_

The ride back to your house is silent after a short and quick bicker about who can drive. You think Joel might want to sit in the driver's seat so you can’t see the quickly forming bruises on the left side of his face but you make a decent argument, enough to settle him in the passengers—looking out the window. 

You send Janet a quick text, asking if she can watch Sarah for a few hours. Brother emergency. Janet replies back and says the girls haven’t gotten out of the pool since you left. It makes you smile a bit, despite it all. 

When you park in your driveway, you hop out quickly, Joel following closely behind. He waits there, right behind you, when you pull out your house keys, and waits when you unlock the deadbolt and waits when you push through the door. 

“Make yourself at home,” you say, nodding towards the couches and dropping your keys in the bowl. 

You disappear into the kitchen and brace your arms on the counter, your head hanging between your shoulders. You let out a deep, ragged breath and try to control your heartbeat. 

“Fuck,” you mumble, shaking out your wrists, grabbing two advil from the bottle on your counter, a glass of water, and peas from freezer.  

Joel’s sitting on the loveseat, looking down at his hands. You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either. He just takes the water and pills from your hands and swallows it silently. You extend the peas to him, he thinks about it for a while and when you shake them again, huffing, saying—just fucking take them. He finally obliges. 

You get a good look at his cheek when he turns to set the water down on the table and you have to stop yourself from gasping. 

“Joel,” you murmur, reaching for him, bending down, he stops you, grabs your wrist, then grabs your hand. But he’s gentle. Not like Tommy. Joel’s gentle. 

“‘S fine,” he says, and winces when the peas touch his face. “‘M fine.”

You settle in between his legs, looking down at him. He’s got one hand on his face, holding the peas, and the other, wrapped around the back of your thigh. He doesn’t even want to look up at you. It breaks your heart. 

“‘M sorry,” you say quietly, his hand on your thigh trails upward. He plays with the hem of your shirt and lifts it enough to take a peek at the purple that lies there. 

He doesn’t say anything, just sits there, running a gentle, ghost-like touch across the bruises. 

“He — saw it. I don’t…” you look down to your stomach. You can see the shape of his fingertips so clearly. It’s no wonder Tommy reacted how he did. “It was an accident.”

He doesn’t nod. Doesn’t shake his head. He tosses the peas onto the table and pushes the cotton of your shirt up further, to where he can see all of it—all the black and blue there. 

“Are you mad?” you whisper, hesitantly, as he stares at his own hands, his own branding. 

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Don’t be,” you say, begging, “Please.”

“He did that cause—,” you breathe out, taking his chin in your pointer finger and thumb and getting your first good look at his cheek, “—it’s-’s my fault, I should’ve—”

“C’mon. Don’t do that,” he says, cutting you off, nipping your apology in the bud, “I should be the one who’s sorry, this is — I hurt you.” 

You shake your head. 

“You know that’s not—you know that I—” you stifle a short chuckle. 

“That you what?”

You let out a couple hot breaths, looking down at him, the purple around his eye slowly taking shape. 

“That I liked it.” 

Joel bends forward then, and you gasp. The dull scratch of his beard is the only thing keeping your eyes open. He trails his hot breath across your stomach, and leaves gentle kisses on your sides, on your bruises.

“Joel,” you mumble, and you hate how your voice sounds so breathy, maybe even desperate. You tangle your hands in his hair, grasping at the nape of his neck he pulls you down, closer, so you’re slotted in his lap, straddling him. Joel pulls back and looks at your face, brushes the fallen hair from your eyes. 

“I meant what I said,” you start, he furrows his brow, “Still—mean it.”

From the look in his eyes he knows what you’re talking about. The words you slipped into his ear last night.

‘S you, Joel — it’s-’s always been you.

“But if this is—if Tommy—” you cut yourself off, correcting your words, “If I messed it up—” 

“Sweetheart,” he says. Your heart pulls, you almost put your hand on his cheek, but you see the rising skin and settle for his shoulder. “‘M not goin’ anywhere.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He pulls you down further, so you’re flush against him. He studies your eyes and rubs at your waist, your hips. It sends a little fire down between your thighs. 

“‘M here—‘M…I’m right here,” he mumbles, and shakes his head. Like he’s telling you no to any silent thoughts of doubt that might be floating around your head. 

And then he pulls your head down to kiss you. 

It’s needy, and hot and everything you want at this moment. He’s everywhere and you can feel his growing arousal between your legs. You both needed this—you think. After everything, after—fucking—Caroline and Janet Baker and Tommy Miller. You both needed each other so bad that when you grind down onto him he lets out a little desperate groan into your mouth that spurs you on. 

Joel slips his hand under your shirt and finds the hardened peak there. He pinches it and rolls it between his fingers, it sends your hips forward and suddenly he’s sitting up, and shucking your shirt off. 

He grabs your hips and moves you against him, your most vulnerable spots grinding against each other. Giving you both blown out eyes and puffy lips and panting breath. 

“Sh–it,” you gasp when your shorts catch on your clit perfectly. 

“Pretty,” he says, grasping at your tits, at anything he can find while you grind against his length. “fuckin’—pretty like this.”

You claw at his belt and before you know it, he’s lifting you up so you’re on your knees and he’s pulling his pants past his hips. You get the memo and take your shorts off, tossing them behind you. When you sink back down onto his lap, you can feel his cock slip between your wet lips down there. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you say, gliding along his cock, soaking it. You can feel all of him now—grinding along his hardness—the girth of him fitting perfectly between your swollen lips. 

“Angel,” Joel pants out, through sloppy kisses. You look at him. He’s got a desperate look on his face. Like he couldn’t wait just like you. Not even to get upstairs to your bedroom or to get all his clothes off. Like he’s been wanting this all day. Just like you. 

You move up and reach down, feeling the wet mess you’ve both made down between your legs. You find his cock, hard and wanting, and position it at your entrance. The head sinks past your walls, enveloping it somewhere deeper and you both groan at the feeling. 

You sink down on him slowly, you’re by no means physically ready to take him. But you can’t wait any longer. He kisses you, and down to your neck, making it easier to ease yourself down onto him, and when you finally reach the end, and you’re seated fully in his lap, you both gasp. 

Your walls clench around him, eliciting a quiet groan from Joel somewhere near your neck. Your eyes roll back in your head, your forehead drops onto his shoulder. You both just sit there, waiting for the other to make a move. 

It’s kind of like a game. 

See how long you can both relish in each other’s warmth — the first person who moves loses. 

Your walls tighten again and he lets out another groan, “Jesus,” he mumbles, nipping at your neck. You’re slowly adjusting to him, relaxing around him. It makes you shudder. 

You realize he’s not really touching you. He’s got his hands on your thighs, but they’re just resting there. Not squeezing or gripping your hips like you know he so desperately wants. Maybe he’s scared, you think. From everything that’s happened today. From the consequences his touch barred. 

But you didn’t care about the consequences. You liked his touch, needed his touch, just as much as he needed something to hold him back down to earth, anchor him to you—in you. And afterall, you just want him to feel good. Feel better. 

“Touch me,” you gasp out, reaching down to his hands. 

“Am touchin’ you,” he forces out, panting near your ear. His thumb absentmindedly pushes down on the skin of your thigh a fraction harder and then eases up, like he’s saying this is the best I can do. 

“No, Joel,” you moan, rock your hips a little, moving first, moving frantically and suddenly, “touch me,” you say into his neck, reaching down to usher his hands to your hips, your waist, you. 

Joel gets it then, the silent permission. The it’s okay, and grips you harder, but not as hard as you know he would like. It’s good enough for you because he moves your hips, rocking you up and down onto his length—having enough of the senseless grinding. 

“Fuckin’ good—” Joel groans, your hands fly to his shoulders, his hair. “You feel good.” 

Your legs grow tired, he can tell. You try your best, but you’re sweaty and tired and fucked out, and when he hits a spot deeper inside you that makes you moan out, louder than before, and you almost collapse onto him. He ruts into you a little. Meeting you halfway. Fucking you deeper—maybe even a bit faster. 

Your legs ache and you feel a sheen of sweat wash over both of you. And Joel’s eye is fucked up, his cheek too. Tommy is sitting back at the house—or god knows where—with a possible broken hand, Janet baker is watching Sarah instead of you or Joel, Caroline is still back at the house, and everything is a fucking mess, but it’s so right. He feels so right. He’s — he’s right. 

You’re close then, the coarse hair on him inching you toward your climax. He knows, he can feel it from the inside. You don’t even have to say it this time, your question for his permission. He can see it already braced on your lips but he shuts you up with a kiss, a sloppy one, where he sticks his tongue into your mouth and your walls tighten around him again. 

“Yes,” he says with a moan into your mouth, “yes, yes—ah.”

“Fuck,” you say tightening around him, becoming breathless and boneless, but Joel holds you up. He always does. 

He grips you tighter, like how you know he wanted to, and you relish in the feeling. His thrusts become desperate and you brace yourself on the back of the couch so he can rut up deeper, chasing after his own orgasm. You can’t really breathe. Not when he’s everywhere. 

“Shit,” he says, rocking into you. 

Joel cums hard, holding onto you, wrapping you up in his arms as he groans somewhere near your temple. You let it spread through you, the mess of it all. He keeps you locked in his arms, even when you think he might pull away. 

He finally pulls you off him, when he says it becomes too much and you sit on his lap, playing with his curls. When you both settle from your panting you can’t help but ask.

“What are we gonna do?” you say quietly to him. 

“I dunno,” he grabs your hand and gives it a quick kiss. The bruise on his face is turning an ugly shade of purple. And the peas have gone warm, creating a small puddle on the coffee table. And your phone keeps buzzing from the entryway. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, running a hand on your thigh. 

_

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[bonefall]

While we’re talking changing who appears in places- can we change the cats helping out with Sunbeam’s rock trial? I was so confused why the cats selected to help were selected. Sure Cherryfall because she was going to be the one opposing Sunbeam, why not, anyone can do that though honestly and not who I take issue with being there. But Alderheart was there? The medicine cat? Don’t you think he has better things to be doing than pushing a rock around? Where’s Lionblaze aka “I may as well still have my god given super strength”? He could easily be the cat that gets pissy for Sunbeam “not listening to senior warriors” and maybe with age feels that she doesn’t respect him, head of patrols, enough to warrant her staying this sabotaging her in the third trial. I felt robbed that Plumstone who seemed to be established as another bg strong cat was absent. Sure sending Sunbeam with all the strongest cats would make it easy but it’d also be making it safe considering Ivypool didn’t want the rock to hurt anyone and it’s a pecking rock. Why not send your strongest cats to deal with it?

I feel very strongly about this trial, can you tell?

I'm a bit dissatisfied with certain trials in general. Most of the time I LOVE the new trials they made, I think they've been super creative so far, but some have been so lackluster that I need to shine them up.

Namely Berryheart's active attempts to get challengers killed. Someone has to get ACTUALLY hurt by one of those, instead of them just being generally unfair and no one raises an objection about it. I did not like the spring-powered adder that went BOING out of a log.

I will say that I would like to expand on Plumstone in this arc, plus her whole little family. They're in an interesting place, with Bumblestripe coming back from Ferncloud's Parting while leaving his father with the Tribe, Blossomfall still reeling with emotional abuse she suffered at the paws of the impostor, Stemleaf's death and Spotfur raising his kits, and Shellfur's mateship with Fernstripe.

Plumstone ALSO has some stuff going on. She's besties-maybe-dating Thriftear, Bristlefrost's sister, and yet she's one of the more outspoken cats about how she's getting tired of the ThunderClan nepotism. She's strong, reliable, and a competent warrior-- so HOW is it fair that Nightheart keeps getting all these undeserved "chances to prove himself" when SHE is here, SIGNIFICANTLY more orange, and wants her own chance to shine??

I still see her personality as being "a dear" lmao, she's not mean, but she's also not willing to bite her tongue either. She will say what's on her mind, and point out unfair treatment when she feels it.

Thriftear supports this. Yeah, she's a descendant of Firestar and a great warrior, but she EARNED the respect she gets. Bristlefrost did too. Nightheart doesn't even want his legacy, why is this clumsy humbug still getting special treatment?

Good-cat bad-cat pair type thing going on.

So I'm probably going to let them both act as a unit, since BB's Dewnose isn't in ThunderClan and that was a really random pair-up anyway.

("wait! Elder Bones! Where did Dewnose go?" Probably ShadowClan, here is the BB!ThunderClan family tree. There's been shuffles; the Cloudbright kits are now Whitewing, Foxleap, and Icecloud, 3 "singlet" litters, spaced out over years.)

Quickie thoughts on touching up the trials;

(DISCLAIMER: NOT SOLID. WE DON'T REWORK UNTIL ARCS ARE COMPLETE.)

Berryheart's are going to need serious overhauls. Nightheart's were really cute and I enjoyed them, but BB is supposed to be about how her group is escalating towards violence. I do not want them to stay so "cute" for the story I'm telling.

I also don't want to keep Nightheart failing his last one on purpose. I want his growth to be more based in self-realization than trying to let Sunbeam "save face."

I kinda want Fringewhisker to get injured during one of her own, and then Antfur dies as collateral damage in Nightheart's last. I'd like Nightheart leaving to be half him realizing that his BEHAVIOR is a problem, and half for his own safety.

In ThunderClan, I'd like the boulder one to be more about Sunbeam assembling a team, almost like she's a patrol head.

Since it's her second trial and she displayed some pretty fantastic leadership skills with her first one, I've got an inkling of an idea that Squilf actually talked with Ivy about wanting to legitimately assess her talent.

Like, "We both know that this whole trial-system was just to appease the other Clans. These are meant to be easy because idgaf. But wow, Sunbeam was actually impressive with those kits. What else can she do, if we give her the chance?"

I really like writing Squilf as she's described in Bramblestar's Storm, where her good leadership comes from being attentive of details and making everyone feel useful.

Man... maybe ill save Rosepetal for this arc and let her be deputy during this. Something feels very Rosepetaly about this. Maybe even have Rosepetal be clearly treating her as if she's a Secondary Apprentice, preparing her to take over her reputation of being a prolific mentor... Nightheart comes back from his trip only to find Sunbeam with twice as much respect as status as he ever had.

I can always axe Rose later to get Ivypool in... But I also REALLY love all the Ivypool Deputy Drama with how there's a conflict with ShadowClan... man. why are there so many interesting girls.

Maybe Rose doesn't have to be deputy, but Ivy assigns Rosepetal as the only "mandatory member" of the Boulder Patrol. Like a tutorial tip lmaooo

Sunbeam: "I think I will pick......................" STARES AT ROSEPETAL, "aaalderrr-" Rosepetal frowns "--pluuuuumstone??" Rosepetal nods, "Wise choice."

And lastly. The final Sunbeam trial. Ngl hated it. It felt really boring compared to the previous two, which were super interesting and excellent ways to give some spotlight to background characters.

Riddles don't even feel like a ThunderClan thing. Idk that was a very RiverClan (philosophy) or ShadowClan (trickery) kind of thing.

I think I'll hold off on thinking about it though; I think it would be SUPER cool if I totally overhauled that last trial to make it foreshadow the later books, somehow.

I DO want to keep that disney channel ass Cherryfall being a bitch part though. I love her so much. I'm so glad she's walking in her father's pawsteps and becoming the snot-nosed brat of ThunderClan.

I will definitely be changing how Sunbeam HANDLES it though. Hate the way that the books emphasize never telling anyone anything.

In fact, I kinda want to make Sunbeam approach Sparkpelt for advice, to show she finally has a figure she feels like she can trust.

Explicitly contrast the way that she NEVER felt like she could approach Berryheart, and that so much of her appeasing, avoidant behavior had been because she didn't feel safe or respected.

Here, in ThunderClan, she has family. She begins to realize that even if Nightheart came back and dumped her, Sparkpelt and Finchlight would NEVER kick her to the curb.

So she goes to Sparkpelt about how she is being bullied by Cherryfall, and they TALK ABOUT OPTIONS.

Like, you know,

Spark: "We could go to Squirrelstar or the deputy."

Sun: "I don't want to cause a fuss if I don't have to... besides, idk, I don't want to set the peat on fire, it would be nice if I could be on good terms with Cherryfall later."

Spark: "that's very wise of you, but just remember that Squilst is a very fair person. We can always go to her. Do you want any backup at all or do you want to do this on your own?"

Sun: "I think... I think I actually do need to do this on my own. If I was being confronted, I think I would just double down if I was being attacked in a group. That was right with Brambleclaw because you weren't trying to convince him, but... what do you think?"

Spark: "I think Cherryfall's just like her father and her ego is everything to her, so I think you're right on the mouse with all this. Honestly, I don't even know how much I'm helping here!"

Sun: "Oh but you are helping! You're helping a lot! StarClan... it feels so nice to just... have someone to listen. Thanks, Sparkpelt."

Basically, tweak the trials to bring them more in line with the themes and messages of BB, y'know? And also beef up the Clans themselves, by stressing the various personalities that are at play here. Especially since I quite like how Sunbeam in ThunderClan has some super neat traits she wasn't expressing in ShadowClan.

Like... it feels like it could be a really cool story to tell about how supportive environments can make you really shine. How you can suddenly seem like a brand new person, just by having people who have your back and encourage your autonomy.

[theshireisburning-so-mordoritis]

Tell Me You Think About Me Too (teaser)

When Steven leaves you in the hotel room to tend to your wounds after a mission whilst he fetches food, the last thing he expects to hear when he returns is the sound of his name coming from the shower. [Steven Grant x F!Reader (hints of Marc Spector x F!Reader) - Friends to lovers, mutual pining, two idiots in love and Marc is so very tired of their shit.]

He was rambling. Stammering on his words like his tongue was too thick for his mouth, choking on the billows of steam he was breathing in as his face flushed with the sickening kind of heat that came with pure mortification and good fucking god, what the hell was he doing still standing there? 

"I’m sorry,” he continued, rooted in place despite every fibre of his being telling him to bolt. It burst out of him almost, jumbled and tumbling, all frantic to make you understand.

“My name- I heard you say my name and I thought… it sounded like you were hurt and I know you like to handle your injuries alone but it sounded bad and I thought you could be bleeding out or dying and I just couldn’t–”

You were wrapping gentle fingers around his wrists before he could talk himself breathless, into an early grave with the way his pulse was hammering beneath flushed skin. Your voice fell even softer, barely rising over the sound of the water that was still pelting against the tiles, as you told him, “Steven, calm down. Look at me, it’s okay.” 

He wanted to resist, unwilling to face the weight of your disappointment, the shame that would only double tenfold when that harsh glare of yours undoubtedly pinned him with it, but he found himself compelled by a featherlight touch at his jaw, the arc of cheek, sweeping the damp curls from his eyes just as they fluttered open. 

Steven gulped as his stare settled on you.

You were closer than he'd expected you to be, now wrapped up in a thread-bare towel that hid only enough skin for you to be considered decent but had him sending a prayer of thanks for to any god that would listen anyway. He didn’t think he’d survive it otherwise, not with the way you were actually looking at him. Touching him. 

He was already having trouble breathing properly, his stomach still flipping from the memory of you, your closeness to him now when your soft moans were still echoing around in his head.

Steven, Steven, Steven.

His heart had yet to return to its normal pace and as it stuttered and beat itself violently against the cage of his ribs, he wondered if it was possible to die from something like this. From the desire and longing trapped and blistering beneath his skin, a wicked hot thing that was trying to burn him from the inside out.

It certainly felt like he could. 

Your expression grew anxious whilst you simply watched one another, gaze troubled and brow knit into a soft frown. Your lip drawn between your teeth in a way that made him have to swallow down the urge gently tug it free with his thumb, to soothe away the rawness with soft touches. An even softer kiss. 

Gods, he was pathetic. 

Even when he was expecting you to be angry at him, for that gentle calmness to drop any second to reveal disgust, he still couldn’t stop himself from thinking about touching you, kissing you. Loving on you. He wanted to shake himself, to rub away the ache in his chest that worsened as your lips parted and he braced himself for you to tell him you couldn’t be around him after this. 

“It’s not you who should be apologising, Steven.” You told him instead, voice tinged with guilt, a hint of embarrassment. Nervous in a way he’d never seen before. And when your eyes dropped briefly to where your hands were still cradling his own you missed the way he blinked at you in stunned confusion. 

“I shouldn’t have been doing that - thinking about you like that - definitely not when you could hear…shit- I’m so fucking sorry you heard it and saw what you did. I get it if you don’t feel comfortable around me and you need a break or something, fuck - is that something you would want? Do you want me to go?” 

Steven didn’t even know what to say. His expression had morphed into something utterly dumbfounded. His brain screeching to a halt at your apology - your confession? 

It was spinning around inside his skull like a carousel, all bright flashing light and the swelling tinkling of fairytale music. Because surely it couldn’t be real right? He’d not really heard what he thought he had, he’d not heard you admitting that you think about him.

Maybe he’d been knocked out during the fight and this was a dream? He almost found it easier to believe.

Except for the fact that in his dreams he didn’t have Marc’s voice in his head - seething with frustration. He wasn’t being yelled at to say something. Say anything. He wasn’t getting stressed out by the irate stream of demands mixing with his own rapidly firing thoughts until they all muddled into something that felt an awful lot like the oncoming of a migraine. 

He wanted to snap at Marc to be quiet for just five bloody seconds but then he was raising his voice again - more worried this time - and it cut crystal clear through the rest of the noise. Sharp enough for Steven to finally understand what the other man had been desperately trying to snap his attention to. 

"Jesus fucking christ Steven, she’s going to leave! She thinks you don’t want her - SAY SOMETHING.”

And Marc was right. You had drawn away from him, dropped your hands from his cheeks and tucked them into your sides, arms crossed over your chest like you were shielding the vulnerable parts of yourself you’d only just worked up the courage to expose. Curling into yourself in the face of what you perceived as rejection. 

He watched in a throat-tight panic as you nodded solemnly and made to squeeze past him, reaching for the door that had swung back closed behind him from the force with which he had thrown it open. 

It was the brush of you against him that startled him back to life - a smack of reality cracking across his bewildered face that told him you were about to walk out of that door, out of their shitty hotel room and straight out his life if he didn’t stop you. 

Steven was whirling around before his mind could even register having told his legs to move. He caught at your wrist with a shaky hand , the touch of it feverish against your skin that had rapidly cooled once outside the heat of the shower - goosebumps rising beneath his fingertips despite the balmy air that swirled around them. 

You turned, fingers still grazing the door handle, and looked at him, wide eyed and apprehensive, unwillingly hopeful, and it was enough to make the muscles in his throat unlock. Words bubbling up and past his lips before he could even consider if they were the right ones. 

“Did you mean it?” He rasped. “ You think of me when you touch yourself?” 

There was silence for a second, maybe two, and by the way you sucked in a breath - lips parting as you stared at him - he suspected the question had been the last thing you expected to be asked. 

It was agony to stand there and wait and Steven tried his best not to let it show, tried not to breathe because every inhale was drenched in you. 

The scent of your shampoo and your body wash and your breath fanning across his lips when he subconsciously leaned closer. The weight of his heart that wasn’t really his anymore, hadn’t been since he met you, sat on his tongue. Ready to topple along with the desperate plea he was fighting to keep clamped behind his teeth. 

Please. Please tell me you think about me too - that you want me just as much as I want you.

And then, “I did,” you whispered, soft and hushed like you were worried if you spoke any louder it would ruin whatever was happening between you, “I do.”

[moonlightspencie]

isn’t it?

Description: Years after the battle at Hogwarts, reader runs into an unlikely old friend. A simple invitation to tea leads to much more.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, slow burn babyyy, draco talking about traumatic events in the hp series, me being an american writing about folks in the UK (do not come for me),

Word Count: 10k

A/N: im a draco apologist, what about it. anyways, he gets a redemption arc in this. they’re like 20-23 in this. also had to make my own gif cause most malfoy girlies are 14 year olds from tiktok & don’t appreciate tom in his 20s. logging off forever now

check out the playlist!

Winter was one of my least favorite times of the year because of how horrifically frigid it got. I was never a fan of the cold months. At least not when it was so cold that my fingers would be numb from standing outside for a couple of minutes.

But, it could also one of my most favorite times for the days like this one.

I stepped into the bookstore, glancing around in the soft lighting at all of the cheery decor. They hadn’t yet taken down their Christmas decorations, so twinkling lights were still wrapped around the bookshelves. Snow fell gently outside, making the warmth inside that much more cozy.

I walked around the small shop, looking up and down various shelves until I found the section I was looking for. I started sorting through the various history books, picking out a few that piqued my interest. I slid down a little further, stopping only when I saw that I was encroaching on a stranger’s space.

I turned my head, making sure I hadn’t already gotten too close, when I saw a familiar, bright, blonde head of hair.

“Malfoy,” I breathed out.

His head turned quickly, wide eyes searching for the person who had accidentally called his name. They somehow widened even more when he recognized me and muttered my name, more to himself rather than as a greeting. I found myself walking towards him almost on instinct.

The last time we’d seen each other was years prior. His father had called his name from across the ruins of Hogwarts to join them. He’d stood still and unmoving, up until the point his mother’s voice finally convinced him. He glanced at me briefly before he walked away from the rest of us, and I had assumed I’d never see him again.

We always had a complicated relationship. Even more, it seemed Draco had very complicated feelings about me.

We were friends, for all intents and purposes, but it was a secretive kind of friendship. He was a Slytherin, from a very prejudiced family, and was quite frankly a bully much of the time. I was a Gryffindor, friends with Potter, and though I was a half-blood, I didn’t care for the idea that blood purity had any say in the value of a wizard. That had caused some tension early in our friendship before I knocked a little sense into him. Though, it still caused some problems for us. Especially after his parents heartily disapproved of me in our fifth year.

We’d been friends for nearly a year at that point. He had, rather foolishly, decided to introduce me to his parents over holiday, assuming they would also be willing to love me despite my disdain for blood-purity ideals. We’d left in uncomfortable silence, and, soon after, Draco had explained that his father had instructed him to stay away from me.

Of course, he hadn’t listened.

We still spent time together when we could, even when I’d begun to notice his increasingly tired eyes and gaunt state of being in sixth year. He never let me find out what the matter was until it was too late, however.

I hadn’t seen him after the night Dumbledore was killed until the battle at Hogwarts. Now, I was seeing him in a bookshop in London. A muggle bookshop.

“What…” I started, unsure what to say now. “Wow. It’s good to see you.”

He was silent, staring back at me in shock.

“I’m sorry, um, how’ve you been?” I asked.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve, uh— Fine. I’m fine.”

“What are you doing here? In London, I mean?”

“Searching for something to read,” he said, the ghost of a chuckle leaving him.

“In a muggle shop?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I know, it’s probably strange to see me here.”

“It’s strange to see you anywhere. It’s been…”

“… A long time.”

I nodded in agreement. He looked down at the books in my hands.

“I see you’re still interested in muggle affairs.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, looking at my books. “After leaving Hogwarts I wasn’t really interested in becoming an auror anymore, so I started writing. I do a lot of writing for wizards interested in muggle history. I generally write a lot of magazine pieces, and I’m working on a book now.”

“Wow,” he said with brows raised. “That’s incredible.”

“Thanks. Are you doing anything… I don’t know. Like, for a job?”

“No. That was never really on the table for me, anyways, with my family’s—“ he sighed. “You know. All of that.”

“Right,” I nodded with half a smile. He’d always been raised with the idea that he’d be living off of the generational wealth. “What are you looking at here?”

“I still need hobbies, so I’ve taken up a lot of reading. Muggle fiction books have been particularly interesting to me lately.”

“Huh. Never expected that to come out of your mouth.”

He raised his brows quickly, nodding along slowly. He looked back to the book in his hands.

“They tend to think that witches are evil, mythical creatures. They also don’t believe that giants or dragons or werewolves exist. They’re all viewed as freaks to the muggles,” he said, looking back at me. “Most of the time, we’re all seen as the villain in their stories.”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Everyone sees things differently. Usually the hatred comes in when they don’t care to learn about people who aren’t like them.”

He swallowed, looking down once again.

“I’m beginning to realize that much more, now.”

We both went quiet for a few seconds as a question was formulating in my head.

“Would you like to come over to mine for some tea?”

His eyes snapped to mine. He furrowed his brow, obviously not expecting the invitation.

“Really?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

He just stood there, unmoving like I was going to burst out laughing at him at any moment. He watched me with wary eyes, not responding.

“If you want to,” I added at last. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Uh, that would be nice. Yes.”

“Okay. Um, I’m going to go buy these now.”

I held up my books, then turned for the register. I finished after a few minutes, lingering near the door until he followed after with his own bag.

“So, where you do you live?” he asked as we walked out into the cold.

“Guildford. In Surrey.”

“How do you usually—“

“Take my hand,” I said, holding out my free hand.

He switched his bag over to the opposite hand, putting his cold one in mine. In a flash we were on my street. He looked up at the street lamps that were starting to turn on as the sky dimmed slowly. I let him take in his surroundings for a moment.

“Ready?” I asked after a beat.

He looked at me, snow sticking to his eyelashes.

“Ready,” he confirmed.

We started forward on the sidewalk, heading in the direction of my building.

“Are you still in Wiltshire with your parents?”

He nodded. “Yes. Though, I don’t see them much anymore. I’m usually out for most of the day if I can help it.”

“You don’t get along much anymore?”

He shrugged. “They disagree with a lot of my choices.”

“I see.”

We stepped into the foyer of my building, walking up to the third floor and wandering through the hall until we got to the door of my flat. I suddenly turned, his brows raising slightly as I looked at him.

“I feel like I need to tell you that I don’t live anywhere particularly… Special.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged.

I nodded, a small smile on my face as I unlocked the door.

It felt strange to have anyone in my flat, let alone someone I hadn’t seen for years after they’d betrayed my friends and myself. Usually, I only had over a few very close friends every few weeks. I wasn’t exactly prepared for company, and I felt that it showed as I pulled down two mismatched mugs. He lingered in the kitchen with me, looking entirely uncomfortable, his hands repeatedly clenching and releasing as if it would relieve whatever anxieties he was facing. I gave him a soft smile after setting the mugs on the counter near him.

“This cabinet here,” I started, pointing at the one next to the oven, “has all the teas. You can choose whichever one you’d like.”

He nodded, moving forward towards the cabinet as I filled the kettle with water. I set it on the stovetop, turning it on. He nervously looked through the various tea flavors for a few more seconds, then turned to me.

“Which one would you like?”

I looked at him, noticing that he hadn’t picked for himself yet.

“Are you asking in earnest, or do you need a recommendation?”

His cheeks flushed slightly as he gave me a small smile.

“Both.”

“I’d love an earl grey. I’ve got one that has some lavender in it as well, and it is delightful.”

He nodded quickly, pulling down two tea bags.

“That sounds nice.”

I smiled to myself, a little out of sorts at how polite he’d become. We waited in a strange kind of silence until I heard the water beginning to bubble in the kettle. I pulled it off the heat, filling the mugs Draco had popped the bags into earlier. He looked at me curiously.

“You know,” he began, pulling my attention to his amused face, “you’re supposed to wait until the kettle whistles.”

I shrugged. “I prefer to get to it before it starts up. I’m almost never too busy to have to listen to that horrible whistling.”

He laughed softly, nodding his head in understanding. I led him to the small table in my kitchen, and much to my surprise, he took the seat next to me rather than across the way. It was quiet for a minute or two, neither of us really sure what we were doing in my kitchen together.

“Can I ask something?” he blurted out.

“Sure,” I replied with a nod.

“Why did you invite me here?”

I shrugged. “I thought it might be nice to talk. It’s been a long time.”

“But I haven’t spoken to you since… You know. What’s the use in trying to talk to me now?”

“You agreed, didn’t you?”

He smirked, but it was a more gentle kind than what he would usually pull back in the day. Not full of cocky disdain for others, and more a way to tell me that I’d bested him with the simple phrase. It was nice.

We sat quietly for a few more minutes, each sipping our tea. I suddenly realized, only after inviting him into my home, that I had no clue what to talk to him about. I let out a soft breath, looking at him to find him already looking in my direction. I gave him a soft smile that he returned. Though, it quickly fell, and the both of us tilted our heads down again.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, “for leaving that day. When my mother called me over.”

I looked at him in surprise, staring up from my teacup.

He continued, “I should’ve stayed with you. With all of you. I was just in so deep at that point, and I couldn’t say no to her. And I know that isn’t an excuse, but I didn’t know what to do anymore. I was sure that the second something went sideways again, after all that I’d done, I would probably be the first one to die. I don’t know why nobody killed me in the meantime before V-Voldemort and the others came back with Potter.”

“Where did you go? After the room of requirement was set on fire?”

“I hid,” he mumbled, looking down at his tea. “I’ve always been a coward. I think I’ve deserved everything that’s happened to me after all of that.”

We sat after that, sipping our tea like nothing had been said to begin with. I looked back at him. He’d changed so much in the few years he’d been gone, and yet he was so different. He looked practically the same. Maybe a little healthier. He acted like a new person, though. All of that youthful bravado was gone, and what was left was quiet and remorseful and entirely not like the Draco I’d known in school. It shocked me more and more the longer we sat.

I sighed softly. “Draco?”

He looked at me with wide eyes.

“You haven’t called me that in forever.”

“I haven’t seen you in as long.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah. I suppose so.”

I took in a breath, watching him a few seconds longer before I spoke.

“You know it’s never too late to change things, right? I know that you and your mother both made some decisions we never would’ve expected you to at the end, there. Harry told me.”

“That means nothing. I’ve always despised Potter. I was cruel to him every day, but he still saved my life. You all fought. You were all brave. Not giving him up one time was nothing compared to what all of the rest of you did.”

“You can still change things now, Draco.”

He shook his head.

“It’ll never be enough. I walked away from all of you when we thought Potter had died. I know you saw me doing it, too, and I know you were disappointed in me for it. Probably hated me,” he said, a humorless chuckle leaving him for a moment. “You were standing there by Granger and Weasley, and I looked at you right before I started across the courtyard, and you were already looking back at me. Looked like you could’ve killed me yourself.”

I swallowed, not taking my eyes off of him the entire time he spoke.

“I wanted better for you. I’d always hoped you would really, sincerely change for the better at some point, and it just never seemed to come,” I mentioned with a half-hearted shrug. “When I saw you walking out just in front of Luna, I hoped it meant you would stay with us. That you’d changed sides after Harry had gotten you out of the fire. Watching you leave after that…”

“I know. I’m shocked you even spoke to me in the bookshop.”

“I was shocked to see you at all. Especially in a muggle bookstore. I know you’d gotten off the hook after the war because of what you did for Harry, but honestly, I never thought you’d change. Not really, anyways.”

He nodded, looking away from me again. He only glanced back up once I continued speaking.

“But you have, now. That much is clear. You’re kinder now.”

“I don’t think I am.”

“You agreed to have tea with me. You willingly had a conversation with me in that bookstore rather than walking away from me. I thought for sure that you would when I saw you there.”

He shook his head. “I might have if it was anyone else. I wouldn’t do that to you, though. You were the only person who was kind to me in school. You’re the only one who really cared or noticed something was wrong in sixth year.”

“Do you really not see it?” I asked, laughing incredulously.

He furrowed his brow. “What?”

“You never would have told me any of this before. Draco, I know that you had done some horrible things, but it’s not too late to be different. And you’re already so different.”

He merely stared for a moment or two.

“I think I should go,” he said quietly. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He stood abruptly, walking off towards the kitchen door. I followed after him, just barely reaching him as we reached my entry way. I reached out, grabbing his wrist. His eyes were wide as he turned his head towards me, casting his gaze towards where my hand held him from going any further.

“Just…” I sighed, putting on a smile. “Don’t be afraid to send an owl sometime.”

He nodded, his voice small, “Okay.”

I finally let him go, watching him take his coat and bag of of books, and walk out the door.

A few weeks later I sat at my desk at home, unable to get past a terrible bout of writer’s block. I hadn’t considered when writing a book that it wasn’t simply writing a long article. I had to craft each chapter in a meaningful way, and unfortunately, that meant that I had to get anything at all on paper. I sighed hard, needing an outlet for my dramatics. Suddenly, an unfamiliar owl was at my window. I opened it up, and the owl dropped a letter right on my window, staring almost curiously at me.

You requested that I send an owl sometime. I hope that you meant it, otherwise you can feel free to ignore this letter. Assuming you did mean it, I’d like to invite you to lunch on the thirteenth of February. I hope you’re well.

Draco

I looked up at the owl on my windowsill.

“Just a moment,” I said to it.

It chirped lightly in response. I quickly picked up some new parchment and a quill, scribbling out a response before I folded it and put it in an envelope. I reached into my bottom desk drawer, giving the owl a treat before handing off the letter.

“Thank you. Go home, now.”

The owl flew off into the sky, leaving me with a smile and an even emptier brain.

The date he’d suggested was less than a week out from when he’d sent his letter, and it arrived much sooner than I was expecting. He’d sent another letter soon after mine had arrived, telling me the time and location, and soon enough I was pulling on my shoes in order to leave.

I showed up outside of the café. Surprisingly, another muggle location. I walked inside, being greeted by a hostess.

“Hi, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here, um…”

“She’s with me,” Draco said, coming up near the hostess stand.

I smiled at him gratefully, my demeanor obviously edging on discomfort. He led me back to our table, pulling out my seat for me.

“Thank you,” I said, scooting in a little closer. “So, why this place?”

“Easier to make reservations and avoid judgements eating at muggle restaurants. They’re not exactly familiar with the Malfoy name.”

“Ah,” I nodded in understanding. “Makes sense. Well, it’s nice here.”

“It is. They have great soup.”

I laughed, looking down at the menu.

“What?” he asked with a smile.

“It’s just weird. Being here with you, and… talking about soup.”

“We could talk about sandwiches if you’d like.”

I laughed again, finding him doing the same. The afternoon ended up delightfully strange. We finished our food, and found ourselves on a walk around town, chatting about what we’d been doing in the years since we’d last seen one another.

In the final moments, I’d convinced him to visit another bookstore with me the following week.

It started to become a bit of a habit, really. We’d keep finding new places to bring one another to, and, for me, new excuses to keep seeing him. I didn’t necessarily have feelings for him, but I couldn’t deny that I found myself enjoying his company much more than I had as a teenager.

One chilly night in March, I’d come home from dinner with a friend absolutely wiped. I was more than ready to head off to bed after sitting around on my couch for a rerun of an old favorite show.

Though, halfway through the episode, there was a knock on my door. I walked over the front door, wand in hand as I wasn’t expecting any visitors at night. I looked through the peephole, hiding away the wand when I recognized the face outside the door. I opened it right afterwards.

“Hey,” he greeted, standing just outside my door.

My brows raised on instinct as he looked a little inebriated.

“Hi,” I said mindlessly. “What are you doing here?”

He looked down to the floor, shrugging a little. He rubbed at his face before he looked back at me.

“I might’ve been at the pub down the street. I thought about you there,” he swallowed. “Thought it might be nice to see you.”

“Do you want to come in?”

He nodded silently, stepping past me into my apartment. I shut and locked the door, turning to see him looking around the space. He looked back at me after a moment, a confused pout coming across his face as his eyes dropped to my outfit.

“Were you busy?”

I shook my head. “No, I just got home a bit ago.”

“Where’d you go?” he asked, toeing his shoes off to leave them near mine.

“Got dinner with Luna Lovegood.”

“Oh,” he nodded. “She still… Herself?”

“Draco,” I scolded.

“Sorry.”

I helped him take his coat off as he started struggling with the sleeves.

“Luna’s still an absolute sweetheart, as she’s always been,” I mentioned as I draped his jacket on a coat hook.

He wore a sage green sweater under the jacket, and it brought the slightest smile to my face that he still preferred his house colors when he wasn’t decked out in all black. He started wandering into my flat, looking around the living room.

“I like your home,” he said at last.

“Thank you,” I replied with a small laugh. “I’m going to go get you some water. Probably some ibuprofen too. It might help prevent a massive headache tomorrow.”

He nodded, not quite paying attention as he started walking around again. Once I gathered the cup of water and the medicine, I was at a loss. He’d escaped the living room. I walked around, checking the bathroom first, before finding my bedroom lamp on. I stepped into the room, finding him plopped down on my bed. This time, I couldn’t help but laugh fully.

He lifted his head with a quirked brow.

“What?”

“You. Laying there like you’ve just had your very first drink.”

“You’ve got a comfortable bed.”

“I’m aware,” I nodded, kneeling on the mattress next to him. “Come and drink some water, now.”

He sat up with a groan, accepting the ibuprofen and the cup from me. He drank down the water quickly, letting out a sigh as he handed back the empty cup.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, dropping back down.

He was quiet for a few seconds as I set down the empty cup on my nightstand, just staring at the ceiling.

“Is it okay that I came here?”

I furrowed my brow, laying on my back next to him.

“I’m happy you showed up here rather than going and causing trouble someplace else.”

“You’ve always been a good person,” he said with a sigh. “Why were you ever friends with me? I was awful.”

“Seemed like you needed someone good in your life. You were surrounded by some truly terrible people,” I mentioned with a chuckle. “When we ended up seated next to one another in potions and you actually laughed at jokes I made that weren’t at the expense of another person, I realized you might not be totally hopeless.”

He laughed. No— he giggled, covering his face with his hands.

“You know, my other friends hated you,” he said, voice muffled.

I reached over, pulling his hands away from his face. He smiled softly as I did, watching me as he continued talking.

“They all thought I went crazy for being friends with you. Blaise told me I was going to get kicked out of Slytherin if I kept it up, and Parkinson was really upset because she wasn’t the only girl around me anymore.”

“I always thought she had a crush on you.”

He hummed. “Yeah, I think so. It was kind of annoying, to be honest. At first I liked the attention, but it got old very quickly.”

“I can imagine.”

“You know what I always thought?”

I shrugged. “No clue.”

“I thought for forever that Potter had it bad for you. Up until he started crushing on the Weasley girl, I was convinced.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, looking back at the ceiling. “Either him or Longbottom. They were always around you.”

“Because we were friends,” I said with a laugh. “I still see them sometimes, you know?”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. I haven’t seen my school friends since, well, everything happened.”

“You’ve seen me, at least.”

He smiled a little.

“That’s true. Nobody else, though. Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“I think it probably is.”

A silence fell over us for a few moments. I stared at the sheets in between us, brushing my fingers across them.

“Why are you so nice to me?” he asked, voice just above a whisper.

“Why would I be cruel?”

He sighed dejectedly. “I deserve it. I was— I’ve done terrible things.”

I sighed softly. “I know what you’ve done, Draco. I was kind of there for much of it.”

A smile tugged at his lips, though he shoved it away just as quickly as it appeared.

“There’s still a lot you don’t know,” he said at last. “You wouldn’t stick around if you did.”

“I would.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

I fell silent again for a minute or so, milling over what to say next in my head. I heard him let out a soft breath, and turned my eyes to watch him. His hair was messier than usual, with his natural waves sneaking their way out of the gelled constraints they were usually stuck in. His skin glowed in the soft lighting of my bedroom, especially now that the constant dark circles he’d worn for the past few years were gradually fading away with time.

He called my name in question. I hummed in response, turning my body to face him, listening as he started speaking again.

“I just,” he sighed, taking a moment. “I wonder if things would’ve been different if I told you back then. Or anyone.”

“It might have changed things a little, but at that point, do you think you would’ve been able to avoid what you had to do?”

He shook his head. “No. It just might have been nice for someone to know.“

“I think you would be too stubborn to tell anyone, though,” I said with half a smile.

He smiled back, looking down at the mattress as he nodded.

“I definitely would’ve been. That’s part of the reason I never told you in the first place.”

I raised a brow. “What was the other part?”

He swallowed, looking at me again.

“I was worried you might put yourself in danger.”

“How?”

He snorted a laugh. “If you think I was stubborn, you have got to know that you were much worse. You probably would’ve tried helping me at the worst possible moment and gotten yourself killed.”

I scoffed. “I’m not that dumb.”

“You could act like it sometimes.”

My eyes widened as he hid a smile.

“Oh, so you do still like to make fun of me, huh?”

“Old habits are hard to beat.”

“You still secretly like dancing?”

His smile fell a bit as he thought it over.

“I haven’t really had a reason to since… Everything.”

Whatever came over me in that moment to drive my actions could possibly be instinct to comfort an old friend. It could’ve been the need to reach out to someone clearly in pain. It could’ve just been that I wanted to touch him. I scooted closer, resting my head on his chest. My hand rested on his stomach, and I felt him sigh softly through it. He didn’t say anything, but I did feel him go a bit rigid.

I lifted my head up when I noticed the stiffness in his body.

“I-I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first,” I rushed out, “Is this okay?”

His cheeks turned slowly pink as he stared back at me, nodding.

“I, um,” he let out a quick breath, “Yes. I just don’t really ever—“

Understanding dawned on me. “Oh. Well, it’s just like a hug.”

He stared back once again, unmoving for a few moments. I furrowed my brow in question as he looked away from my face.

“The only person, um, who ever really hugs me is… mum.”

I watched him quietly, unsure what to say. It had always been evident that he never had a shot at a normal childhood, but I hadn’t considered how much of that normalcy was completely stripped from his life. He closed his eyes.

“I don’t know why I said that,” he said quietly. “That’s so humiliating.”

“No, no,” I said, brushing some of his hair from his face before quickly pulling away. “Not at all. That isn’t your fault.”

“If I wasn’t such a horrible child…”

“It may have helped to make real friends, but you were raised in an echo chamber of hatred. For the longest time you didn’t know how to be anything but mean. Clearly, if your own father didn’t even hug you as a child.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, nodding slowly.

“Plus,” I added, “things are so different now. I saw you starting to change a little back then. I wasn’t the only one to notice either, you should’ve seen my friends’ faces when you smiled at me in passing on the way to classes the first time. Since then, things have changed tenfold. Why not lean into that?”

He nodded again, giving me the faintest smile imaginable. I settled back against his chest, finally feeling his arms carefully wrapping around me. They just barely rested over top of me, not dissimilar to how an adult would try to hug a toddler. I let one arm stretch across his torso, holding him tightly, and, eventually, he held me just as tight.

I opened my eyes to sun-washed sheets, and a breathing pillow under my head. I tilted my head up, seeing him still absolutely passed out. His breathing came soft and steady, and he looked utterly at peace. I only looked away from his sleeping form when he started stirring. He let out a soft little groan, his arms tightening around me slightly. Only after he gave a sigh did I have the nerve to look back at his face.

“Good morning,” I said.

He smiled softly. “Morning. M’sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind,” I looked down at our clothes. “Just a bit unfortunate we fell asleep in these clothes. Not the most comfortable.”

He laughed. “Yes. Maybe next time it would be better not to be wearing trousers. I think I’d personally prefer some flannel pajamas.”

“I’m partial to sleep shorts.”

He let out another small laugh, as did I. His cheeks were tinged pink as he looked back at me, though I can’t say I didn’t feel the heat rising in my face as well.

“How are you feeling?”

He shrugged lightly. “Surprisingly fine. Thanks for taking care of me last night.”

“Any time, Malfoy.”

I reluctantly pulled myself out of his arms, sitting up in the bed. I stretched out my arms above my head, then turned to him once again to announce I’d be back in a moment. I found myself doing my usual bathroom duties in a kind of haze. There was a smile stuck to my face that I couldn’t quite get rid of. I chose not to look into it too much, especially as I reentered the bedroom to find him rubbing at his sleep-ridden eyes.

“There’s an extra toothbrush I left in the bathroom for you. It should be the yellow one next to mine,” I mentioned.

He gave me a small smile, nodding his head.

“Thanks.”

I hummed in response. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Tea and toast sound okay?”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, standing up.

I merely raised a brow at him as he drew closer. He silently conceded, following me out of the bedroom in order for each of us to get to what we needed to. I filled the kettle, put the bread in the toaster, and somehow managed to spill my entire cup of water all over the floor after setting out the mugs. I grumbled to myself, getting down with a towel to clean up my mess.

“Clumsy one, aren’t you?” he asked with a laugh as he found me crouched down on the floor.

I looked up to where he stood near the sink, feigning annoyance at his cheery state. I stood up, crossing over to wring the towel out.

“Wait,” he exclaimed, though too late.

I stepped forward, not seeing the bit of spilled water I hadn’t cleaned up. I slipped and, in an attempt not to tumble to the floor, grabbed onto his arms. He laughed at me as I regained my balance, earning him a furrowed brow and a hidden smile of my own.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“It was funny,” he defended. “You should’ve seen your face.”

I squeezed his forearms briefly before beginning to drop my hands. Though, the way his face dropped as I did so kept me from completely breaking contact.

“Are you okay?”

He swallowed. “Yeah, I’m— It’s fine.”

I quirked a brow, unbelieving.

“I’m not buying that. What’s wrong?”

He looked down, his eyes quickly darting to where my hand was placed on his left arm. I took in a breath.

“Oh,” I said quietly. “Do you… It’s still there, isn’t it?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

I firmed my hold on his arms again, gently rubbing my thumbs against the fabric of his sweater.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s my own fault.”

“I’m still sorry. I’ve never thought about the fact you’d always have to hide it.”

He breathed out slowly, shakily, still looking down.

“Is there any way to rid yourself of it?” I asked after a beat.

“No,” he shook his head. “There are some charms I can use temporarily to hide it if I need to, but nothing permanent works. It’s forever.”

I nodded, looking back at his face until he met my eye. He cleared his throat, pulling his arms from out of my grasp.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

“I’m used to it. I haven’t forgotten your little attitude every time you spotted me with Harry or one of the others.”

I reached down to grab the towel I had dropped.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I couldn’t help it. You were so likable, and they were just...”

“My friends. So watch it, Malfoy,” I scolded with a smirk.

“Right,” he nodded, fighting a smile himself. “Everyone has their flaws.”

I scoffed out a laugh, lightly slapping his shoulder with the back of my hand. He laughed, leaning against the counter.

“Right then, you can pour your own tea,” I noted as I wrung out the towel.

“You’ll still get the toast though?”

I furrowed my brow as I tossed the towel down, turning to him.

“Only because you don’t know where I keep the plates or else you’d be on your own.”

He gave me a knowing smirk, taking the kettle just before it began whistling to fill both of our mugs. I took down the plates, setting the toast on each of them before getting the butter and jam set out. We set to work, side by side, on preparing our breakfast. It felt oddly normally as we went about our business, putting everything away before we sat at the kitchen table.

We found ourselves laughing over nothing in particular before we knew it, and, eventually, it was dark outside once again. The surprise on his face told me all that I needed to know as he looked out the window and declared that he should probably be going on his way. I walked him to the door, watching as he gathered his things again, and as he apparated away.

Our owls were sent back and forth over the next few weeks, and though we saw each other frequently, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander on the days we didn’t have much communication. Frankly, it wandered a great deal even when we were together. Usually to his eyes. The way he’d look at me when we’d stop talking. Or the way he’d smile when we did some silly activity together. Or his laugh when I’d make a stupid jokes. Or his hands.

May came quickly, and with it came warmer weather. It was nice to have my windows open whenever it wasn’t raining, and it was absolutely wonderful to have lakeside picnics or nighttime strolls through the nearby park as the month bled into June. Those little outdoor escapades started to become a habit. A way of being out in the world together with nobody else around.

Not that alone time was necessarily important to us. It certainly didn’t make my cheeks flush with heat every time we sat completely by ourselves on a picnic blanket with favorite snacks of mine that he’d somehow remembered and brought along when he showed up at my door. I most definitely hadn’t made a habit to lie to myself about the entire ordeal.

“Walk?” he asked after we’d finished playing a game of wizard chess.

I nodded. “Of course. It’s a gorgeous night, we may as well enjoy it, right?”

He smiled, standing and taking my hands to help me off the ground near my coffee table. We pulled on our shoes, and headed out. It was warm, and the most gentle breeze went through the new leaves on the trees as we passed them. He made silly conversation with me as we kept on, so much so that we’d lost track of the time. I could only tell it had been a while when my legs started growing a bit tired.

We sat on a bench nearby after our walk through the park, relishing in the warm night air of the summertime.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight,” I commented.

He hummed in agreement.

“It does,” he said, suddenly putting on a small smile. “That’s one benefit to me staying out all hours of the night with you.”

I laughed. “Oh dear. You may just have to stay over again. How horrible. It’s not like you can apparate home at any moment.”

“This is your fault, you know? You just have to live so far away,” he said in feigned annoyance, ignoring the last sentence I’d spoken. “Maybe I should just make friends elsewhere.”

“Yet, you still accept every time I suggest some kind of activity for us to do rather than finding new friends. Why’s that?”

“You’re… Different,” he whispered, like it was some miraculous secret.

“How?”

He sighed softly. “People back home, what I grew up with— It’s nothing like this. Everyone is cold. They all care so much about the wrong things.”

“You think I care about the right things?”

He smiled softly. “You care about me. That’s enough.”

“Who would’ve guessed Malfoy would become such a softie,” I mentioned with a smirk. “Oh, how things change.”

“Some things don’t,” he said with a shrug. “You still somehow choose to be my friend.”

“All that childhood bullying and teenage depression captivated me.”

He furrowed his brows, an unbelieving laugh passing his lips. We sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, looking around at the park as it was washed in moonlight. I felt his fingers brush against my hand, and I willingly opened my palm to him. He slid his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together and giving a gentle squeeze.

“Look up,” he said quietly, and I obliged. He pointed up at the stars in the clear sky. “There’s a constellation there. Just between the… It’s right by ursa major, the plough constellation.”

“Mhm,” I hummed along.

“Right along here,” he traced a line of stars in my vision. “Do you know what that constellation is called?”

“Can’t say that I do, no.”

“Draco. It was called that because it kind of resembles a dragon. I don’t know for sure if my parents named me because of the constellation, but I like to think so.”

I smiled, glancing at him rather than the stars. He looked at peace as he stared up into the sky, his thumb gently rubbing against my hand. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye after a minute, at which point I looked back into the night. The stars really were beautiful that night. They looked brighter than normal, and the constellation patters I did recognize were easy to spot. Now, there was a new one I wouldn’t soon forget.

I heard him sigh next to me after a few minutes, and turned my head slightly to find he was already looking at me. This time, neither of us looked away.

“You’re my best friend,” he said, almost too quietly to hear.

Unsure of what to say in that moment, and wanting to do more than offer a smile, I leaned my head against his shoulder. He let out another soft breath, dropping his head against mine. I brought our connected hands up, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his.

“When was the last time you were in Hogsmeade?” I asked quietly.

He gave a soft chuckle to that.

We walked down the street the next day in the afternoon, everything looking quite different now that the weather was quite warm.

“It’s strange not being here in the wintertime,” I noted.

He nodded. “It is. I haven’t been in years.”

We walked up to a familiar building, and I reached out to him. I grabbed his hand, pulling him into the pub. We were offered a seat, but not before receiving several stares.

“You might not want to be holding my hand in front of everyone here,” Draco leaned in to whisper.

“I’m not terribly worried about being seen with you, you know?” I whispered back in reply. “Anyone who knows me is already aware that we used to be friends.”

We sat at the table, placed our orders, and were left alone once again. He let out a breath, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“Seriously, don’t worry about all of them,” I said, leaning on the table. “Half of everyone in here were secretly on the wrong side anyways. They just fly under the radar because they don’t come from a powerful family.”

“Still. I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“You aren’t. Besides, I’m used to people judging me for being around you.”

He deadpanned. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“My point is that I don’t care about being seen with you. Okay?”

He swallowed, sighing softly.

“You make it terribly difficult to try and protect you.”

“Probably because I don’t need to be protected. Stop worrying about me so much,” I stated with a laugh.

“Can’t help it,” he replied, a small smirk on his face.

Our drinks were brought to the table, along with some assorted appetizers.

“Just don’t tell your parents that we’re friends this time,” I joked, hoping that wouldn’t strike a chord.

He snorted. “I already have.”

I straightened in surprise, looking at him with curious eyes. He glanced at me, a partial smile on his face when he saw my shock.

“And you’re still allowed to live with them?”

“It’s been a long time since they’ve tried to make decisions for me like that. After practically forcing me to become a, uh—“

“Yep.”

He nodded, thankful he didn’t have to say it.

“After that happened, my father laid off. Mother still worries for me, but she knows now that at least I’m safe. That’s all that’s ever really mattered to her.”

“They still hate me, though?”

“Pretty much,” he said with a curt nod.

I smiled to myself, sipping at my drink. He shook his head.

“You look pleased with yourself.”

“I’m sorry to say, but I don’t really feel too terrible that they don’t like me.”

“I know,” he said.

I looked back up to see a small smile on his face as well.

“Also, most of that smile is because I haven’t had a butterbeer in a terribly long time.”

Two months flew by after our visit to Hogsmeade. Though, it was filled with almost daily visits with one another. Usually, he’d just show up and keep me company as I wrote. Sometimes, he’d even give input when I asked for it, or let me read him chapters to see how it sounded. His sleepovers even became more frequent, and part of me had to wonder what on earth anyone would think of it if they knew.

I’d told my friends bits and pieces of what had been taking up so much of my time over the last eight months, but not quite the whole story. Luckily, they hadn’t been too angry with me for it. Most of them were rather indifferent, especially after I’d told them about how he’d changed. I never expected them to forgive him, though. I wouldn’t believe how different things had become if I hadn’t seen how he’d changed for myself.

But he truly did. And it was incredible.

During the breaks I’d take from writing, he was usually excited to tell me about the muggle books he’d been reading. Sometimes out of surprise at the content, and sometimes just because he appreciated the writing.

The icing on top was being with him and running into Ron and Hermione. The looks on their faces when he was gentle and kind in their interaction was absolutely priceless. She’d written me days later to ask if I’d found his long-lost twin, not quite believing that he was capable of being anything but who he used to be. But, as I’d repeatedly told Draco himself: it’s not only possible for people to change for the good, it’s probable for those who care to.

So, our days passed comfortably. He only became more kind and, frankly, affectionate, as time went on.

It was on a beautiful August evening when he knocked on my door, our plans already set in place.

I tugged the door open at the sound and took him in, my brows raised slightly. He was in a white button-down and a black sweater vest. There was a messenger back slung across his chest, one hand with a silver ring adorning it held the strap. His cheeks were slightly pink from the weather outside, and he practically glowed. For lack of a better word, he just looked pretty.

He furrowed his brow, looking back at me.

“Everything alright?”

I nodded fast. “Yeah. You just look really nice today.”

“Oh,” he replied, cheeks suddenly flushed. “You also look nice. I like your blouse.”

“Thanks.”

“I brought something,” he said, giving me a shy smile.

“Okay,” I said curiously. “Are you going to at least take off your shoes?”

He shook his head. “No. In fact, you should probably put yours on.”

I furrowed my brow, though I listened anyways. I started pulling on my shoes.

“I thought we were going to have dinner here first, and then go to the cinema.”

“Change of plans,” he shrugged.

“Alright,” I laughed, still unsure.

He pulled a small object out of the bag he carried, unfolding the cloth around it to reveal a small stone statue. I quirked a brow, looking down at the little object.

“What’s this?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“On the count of three, reach out to it and hold on.”

“Draco, is this a portkey?”

“One…”

“Is this one even legal?”

“Two…”

“You’re insane.”

“Three.”

We both held onto the small statue, and in an instant we were in some alleyway. I took in a sudden breath, feeling out of sorts from the transport.

“Where did you get that?”

“My family has had it forever,” he said, wrapping it back up and tucking it into his bag.

“Where are we?”

He smiled at me, taking my hand. I followed him along blindly, until he lead me into a building. I looked around at the tall ceilings and the beautiful chandelier that hung in the middle.

“Wow,” I said, mostly to myself.

He walked us up to the front desk, greeting the clerk in French. My eyes widened as they continued a conversation, ending only when he took a key from her. He then began leading me towards the elevator, still not loosening his grip on my hand.

“I didn’t know you spoke French.”

He smirked as he pressed the elevator button.

“I brought a few things with in my bag, but I didn’t bring any clothes. I thought we could get whatever else we needed here.”

I quirked a brow as we stepped into the elevator. He hit the button for the right floor.

“How long were you planning on staying?” I asked with a laugh.

“Just tonight and daytime tomorrow. We could stay longer if you want to?”

“No, that’s plenty,” I replied, a smile stuck to my face. “This is crazy.”

“Is it?”

“Practically clinically insane.”

He laughed, pulling me out into the hall. He walked us down the hallway, opening the right door when we arrived, and letting me walk in ahead of him. The room was huge. It had a beautiful sitting area, and judging by the height of the curtains, I was sure the windows would be gorgeous. He called me over as he entered the bedroom through large double doors, and I took it all in. He dropped his bag and flopped down onto the huge mattress.

“Whoa,” I said finally, shaking my head. “I don’t know what else to say.”

I fell down next to him on the bed, smiling over at him when he turned his head to me.

“You like it?”

“This is too much, Draco. Really,” I began. “But, it’s amazing.”

“I have one more thing to show you before we get dinner.”

“What else could there possibly be?”

“You’ve seen the eiffel tower before?”

I shook my head. “Only in pictures.”

He stood quickly, and I sat, watching him circle the bed. He grabbed the tall curtains, pulling them apart with force. I stilled before scrambling to my feet and meeting him at the window. I looked out the practically-floor-to-ceiling windows to see the tower glittering against the night sky. I sighed, absolutely wonderstruck.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? One thing I’m sure the muggles got right.”

I laughed, unbelieving, turning to throw my arms around his middle. He held me against him, resting his head on top of mine as we looked out the window again.

“We’ll have all night to stare out the window if you’d like to, but I don’t think the restaurant we’re eating at will wait as long.”

I looked at him, a smile still stuck to my face. He smiled back, just as gently, tucking some hair behind my ear. I felt my heart beat a little faster then, especially as he didn’t look away from me this time. Usually at this point, one of us would have come up with some clever distraction from whatever tension laid between us. It was silent, but not uncomfortable. There was almost a whisper of ‘tell the truth’ floating there, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to open my mouth to speak. He moved forward the slightest bit, though before anything could happen, he did speak.

“We really should go,” he said as a whisper. “Our reservation is in five minutes, and I’d feel horrible if we missed it.”

He gave a boyish smile, one that I couldn’t help but to return, even if I’d secretly hoped for a different outcome. I nodded silently, accepting his hand again once we walked to the door. We apparated near a relatively quiet street, stepping out onto the sidewalk in order to integrate into the other pedestrians. We walked into a small restaurant hidden through a wall. I hadn’t expected him to take me to a wizards-only restaurant, but especially not one that had me forcefully closing my jaw after it had involuntarily dropped.

“Dray, this is incredible, but it might be a little above my pay grade,” I mentioned, leaning in a bit to speak quietly.

He hummed. “That’s why instead of splitting the bill how you like, I’m just going to pay for it.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not fair.”

“Just let me be nice,” he said, turning the tables to scold me for once.

“Are you sure I’m not underdressed?”

“You look beautiful. Quit worrying.”

I attempted to drop my hand from his as he spoke with the hostess, though his grip only tightened a bit. I felt my cheeks flush a little when he flashed me a knowing smirk and the raise of a brow. We started walking back into the restaurant behind the waitress after a moment.

I spoke quietly as we went, “What, are you trying to romance me now, Malfoy?”

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

“Maybe I am. Are you opposed?”

I hid a smile. “No.”

“Thank Merlin for that,” he muttered under his breath, earning a laugh from me.

Dinner was beautiful, and wildly delicious. It definitely helped that I wasn’t terribly worried about the bill. I also can’t say I hated the idea of his family’s money going towards the meal of a wizard who was against practically everything they stood for. It felt like a small victory. Though, it was a bit strange to be surrounded by wizards who weren’t preoccupied with staring at us.

We stepped out of the restaurant, and rather than zipping someplace else, he was determined to walk to our next destination. He held my hand in his like he was afraid he’d lose me if he didn’t, swinging our arms along without a care.

“You seem happy,” I commented.

“I am,” he affirmed, bumping into me slightly. “I’m with you, for one. Plus, we haven’t received a single sideways glance from anyone around here. It’s nice that you’re the only person who knows me.”

I smiled to myself at that, letting him start swinging our arms again. He grinned over at me as we walked past crowds of people that grew increasingly larger. We probably looked ridiculous, but I certainly didn’t care. Not when I’d never seen him happier.

“So, I’ve got a question for you,” I said.

“Go on, then.”

“Why did you bring me to Paris?”

He glanced at me again, eyes a little wider. I raised one brow in question. He cleared his throat.

“Uh, I don’t know if you remember, but we were in some class. I don’t know which one, I think it was in second or third year,” he shrugged with a slight laugh.

“Oh,” I said, drawing his attention away.

We both looked up, suddenly seeing the peak of the tower come over a building. He made a decision to table my question, instead opting to tug me along as he started running ahead. We bolted forward, avoiding tons of people as we came up on the glittering structure, out of breath from both the run and the laughter at how silly we’d become over a hunk of metal. We walked the rest of the way until we were close enough to really look up at it. I held onto his arm with my free hand, resting my head against his shoulder.

“Wow.”

He let out a heavy breath. “Yeah.”

We stood quietly for a few moments, just to take it all in. The only thing I could really hear was the beat of my own heart and indecipherable conversation being had by the other people nearby. I finally looked back at him, and somehow he was still more gorgeous than everything else I’d seen that night.

He looked at me, a glimmer in his eye as that same old sweet smile showed on his face.

“So, what was the rest of that story?” I asked.

“Ah,” he said with a curt nod. “Well, in that class, someone had asked about portkeys. But before the professor had started to explain it, they called on you to pick anywhere in the world you’d like to go. I guess to demonstrate that a portkey could be enchanted in order to get to that place. You said you’d want to go to Paris and see the Eiffel tower.”

“You remembered that?”

He merely nodded. I tilted my head.

“How did you possibly keep that in mind after all this time?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve… I just remember when it comes to you.”

“That’s crazy,” I laughed. “I don’t understand how you could remember something that happened in a class almost ten years ago. We weren’t even friends then.”

“Well, I,” he began, eyes going starry and somehow prettier than they’d ever been, “I suppose I’ve always loved you.”

I fell completely quiet, about one billion thoughts speeding through my head. Only one rose above the others: I love you. But I still wasn’t saying it. Why wasn’t I saying it? Why wasn’t I saying anything at all?

“Sorry, that was too much to—”

I interrupted what would surely be a lively rambling session from him, and threw myself at him, our lips finally connecting for the first time. As soon as the shock wore off for him, he kissed me back. His lips were soft and careful against mine, his arms wrapping around my middle to pull me in closer, and my hands pressed against his chest. I smiled into the kiss, leaving a few lingering pecks against his lips before we broke apart.

I looked at him, taking in everything that I could about that moment. I sighed.

“You’re so pretty,” I said softly.

That definitely wasn’t what I meant to say.

He laughed. “Yeah?”

“Sorry,” I groaned with a laugh of my own, leaning my forehead against his chest.

He lifted my face with one hand under my chin, pressing one more soft kiss to my lips.

“I love you, is what I meant to say,” I noted.

“I knew this trip was a good idea.”

“So this was the plan from the start, hm?”

He smirked. “Not the plan. Just a hope.”

We went back the hotel room, thought not without my genius idea to grab a cheap bottle of wine first.

It felt more fitting than champagne given that we’d spend the rest of the night staring out of the window and laying lazy kisses on one another.

We found ourselves back at my flat a week later, almost as if nothing had changed. But really, everything had changed. Completely and totally.

We sat on my couch, our tea cold from sitting without any attention on the coffee table in front of us. He talked to me about nothing for hours, and there’s nothing else I’d wanted to be doing than wasting away the day with him. It had quickly become my favorite activity.

“You know,” he started, “inviting me over for tea that day after I’d made quite the reputation for myself was probably a stupid idea.”

“But?” I prodded.

“But,” he said, pressing a kiss to my lips before continuing, “I am utterly thankful you did.”

“Aww. My pretty boy,” I cooed, earning a groan from him.

“You can’t keep calling me that.”

He grabbed my hand as I reached to pinch at his cheeks, kissing my knuckles softly.

“Yes, I can. You secretly love it.”

He blushed. “I love you. There’s a difference.”

I sighed, cuddling into his side. “Does this mean you’re going to take me home and introduce me to your parents as your girlfriend, now?”

“I’m pretty certain I’ll have to.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I’m going to inherit the manor one day.”

“And?” I questioned, laughing.

He kissed me again, speaking quietly against my lips.

“You won’t be my girlfriend forever,” he said with a smirk. “Gotta make sure you’ll like the place.”

[vodika-vibes]

Hello, Vod'ika. I couldn't resist and came here with another request. Most of the time music usually gives me a lot of ideas. I was listening to “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gaye when a prompt came to my mind: “Do you know what can help me get better? Sexual healing.” I was tempted to ask this with Hunter, but I thought it would be fun for a Fives x shy F! reader (with an established relationship) where he comes back to her exhausted after a battle and she takes care of him, you know? Prepare a bath, etc. It's up to you if it's going to be NSFW or just a make-out session. Xx

Love Me Like Only You Can

Summary: Fives has been gone, deployed, for months now. But he's coming home tonight and you want to surprise him.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 1395

Warnings: Spicy, but not smutty. Reader spends part of the story in her underwear.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I hope I got the general vibe you wanted with this request. Fives wasn't being agreeable for me, but it turns out that Crosshair was junking up the writing pipeline, so I had to flush him out first, lol. I also made a divider for this cause I needed something to do, I guess.

You have been dating Fives for close to a year now, and while it’s true that he spends less time on Coruscant than a lot of people would be able to tolerate, Fives goes out of his way to make sure that you know that you’re always on his mind.

It’s surprising, really. Fives stands out, even among his own brothers. Loud and boisterous and so very clever. Not to mention funny and charming. 

The fact that he chose you out of all of the women on Coruscant is still surprising to you, even a year later.

Sure, you chose him back, but you choosing him is much less surprising than him choosing you.

After all, at the time, you didn’t even know that he knew you existed.

And yet, somehow, as if he has a sixth sense when it comes to you and you alone, Fives always manages to find you in a crowd of people. Even when you want to blend in. Even when you’re trying to blend in.

His gaze always finds you, and a bright smile crosses his face, and he’ll sweep you into a hug-

You love him. You love him more than you’ve ever loved anything in this world, or any other, and he feels the same way. He’s never hid that from you.

Which is why, since you know he’s back on Coruscant and you know he’s going to come straight to your home as soon as he’s done with work, you want to surprise him. 

And while you could make him his favorite dinner, and dessert, you feel like that’s something that he’ll expect. Because you’ve done it before, and you know that he loved it, based on the wide grin and the soft way he looked at you, you want to do something different.

Something a little outside your comfort zone.

Which brings you to your present for Fives.

Your gaze drifts to the gauzy material of the lingerie set you bought specifically for today. It’s sheer and lacy and a shade of pale purple that Fives loves to see you in…and it’s so far outside what you would normally wear that even looking at yourself in the mirror is kind of embarrassing.

Personally you think you look a little silly, like a child playing pretend, but you have a feeling that Fives will love it.

You make a face at yourself, and then turn away from the mirror to finish pulling on the dress you bought specifically for tonight. It’s the same shade of purple as the lingerie you’re wearing, as to not ruin the surprise too quickly. Though it’s also shorter than you would ever wear in public, the hem of the skirt hitting at about mid-thigh.

And then you run your fingers through your hair, letting your curls topple around your shoulders. Then, and only then, did you leave the bedroom to head into the kitchen to make Fives’ favorite dinner.

It’s nothing fancy, nothing that your parents would expect you to make if they ever deign to visit you on Coruscant. A simple stew, something hearty and filling. And something that you learned to make specifically for Fives.

And, before you know it, your apartment door is sliding open, and the sound of familiar footsteps, heavy only due to the armor he’s still wearing, reaches your ears.

You give him time enough to remove his armor, and then you poke your head into the hall, a warm smile on your face, “Welcome home, Fives.”

He glances at you as he sets his boots on the shoe rack, and a bright smile crosses his face, washing away the exhaustion that was there, “Well, don’t you look pretty.”

You step into the hallway properly, your smile widening. You give a small spin, allowing the skirt to flair around your legs. “Do you like it?”

“Ah, cyare,” He sets his duffle bag on the floor and walks over to you, sliding his hands around your hips, “You could wear a burlap sack, and still be the most stunning woman on Coruscant.” He leans in and bumps his forehead against yours, “I didn’t know you owned something so short though.” He adds as his fingers brush against the hem of your skirt.

“I wanted to try something new.” You reply, “Is it too short, do you think?”

“Mm, I think it’s perfect.” Fives replies, “Well, unless you want to go dancing around my brothers, in which case I’d have to blindfold them.”

You laugh, “They’re not allowed to look at me now?”

“Nope. They don’t deserve to look at you,” He tilts your head back with a gentle finger on your chin, and he kisses you quickly, “I barely deserve to look at you, but I’m definitely not going to stop anytime soon.”

You laugh again, before you slide your hands up his chest and wrap your arms around his neck, “I like you looking at me. It makes me feel pretty.”

“You are so much more than pretty.” Fives murmurs, his lips hovering just over hers, “So, so much more than just pretty.” He trails his lips from the corner of your lips down to your jaw, and then up to your ear, “If I spoke every language in the galaxy, I still wouldn’t have the words needed to describe your beauty.”

Your face heats, but you’re unable to tear your gaze away from his. “The things you say to me sometimes,” You whisper.

“You doubt my words?”

“Never.” You reply softly, “Never ever.”

Fives hums softly, “I missed you, mesh’la,” He whispers, “It was…such a long time to be away from you.”

“You’re home now.”

“I am,” He murmurs, “I missed you. So much.”

“If you’re exhausted, you should rest. Dinner will hold.”

“I bet you could give me some energy, cyar’ika.” He holds your gaze with a teasing little smile, “You know what would make me feel better? A little sexual healing.”

Your face heats a little more, “Wouldn’t you rather take a nap? Not make yourself more exhausted-?”

“No, I really would rather make myself more exhausted. ” Fives replies with a teasing little smile as his hand moves to the strap of your dress. “Because it’s you. And it’s me. And nothing else matters.” Slowly, painfully slowly, he drags the straps of your dress down your shoulders, and allows the material to pool at your feet. 

Only then does he tear his gaze from your face, to look down to make sure that you’re not in danger of slipping on the thin material.

And then Fives stops.

He blinks. Once. Twice. Three times.

And then he exhales slowly as his fingers slowly, reverently, trace the lace of your lingerie. “This is new.” He breathes out.

“I wanted to try something a little outside my comfort zone.” You explain, your voice hushed so as to not break the atmosphere of the room. 

“For me?”

“You make me want to do things like this,” You whisper to him.

“Oh, ner cyare,” Fives breathes out, “I need your hands on me. I don’t care how.” He lightly rubs the thin material of the lingerie between his fingers, “but I really want you to keep this on for a bit longer.”

You smile shyly, “How about a massage?”

Fives lifts you, just enough that he’s able to kick the material of your dress out from under your feet, and then he walks you backwards into the living room. 

He pauses only long enough to strip his shirt off, and then he flops on the couch, “Come here, cyare.” Fives pulls you down and positions you so you’re straddling his hips, and then, once he has you properly positioned so you’re both comfortable, he pulls you down to crash your lips against his.

His hands are everywhere, caressing and squeezing and tracing, even as he coaxes your lips apart with teasing nips and soothing swipes of his tongue. You tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him closer and closer.

This is what you missed the most about Fives being gone. This closeness, this connection. The feeling that everything will be alright so long as his hands are on you and his lips are against yours.

And then Fives releases a quiet moan as you pull his hair a little too roughly, and you’re lost.

[thefangirltreehouse]

sebastian sallow | general thoughts / headcanons with gryffindor!mc

this is just overall thoughts on the sebastian arc and his general characterisation (yes, i am continuing to update this on my second playthrough)

spoilers below

the amount of times i’ve caught sebastian looking at mc through the start of my now second play-through is hilariously adorable, like don’t get me wrong the herbology one is absolutely the best, but i noticed that throughout charms sebastian is just staring at mc (like he’s straight up starts ignoring ominis speaking to him when they walk in the room) also the slight glances in defence against the dark arts before the duel is so cute.

he does it again whilst sirona and rookwood are arguing, like he just turns to them and similes

you can’t convince me otherwise that mc didn’t grab at least his arm to pull him away from ranrok, like it genuinely looks like that and if you squint hard enough it looks like he does the same thing when heading into the three broomsticks

listen i’m specifically playing as fem! & gryffindor! and the missions with ominis feel so reminiscent of the golden trio (i’m calling it now, they’re the electrum trio - a metal mixed with gold and sliver) especially the crucio side-mission

saw someone in a comment sum their dynamic up perfectly from my perspective

“i used to have beef with ominis before this (crucio) quest happened and now it’s me, a gryffindor dragging two slytherins by their shirt collars”

slight tangent but ominis is so sweet if you start as a slytherin! i saw my friend start his game and meet him in the common room and i was like “i’m sorry, is this the same tory bastard that yelled at me for nicking his pal?”

if anything sebastian comes off worse in that section.

almost every streamer i’ve came across assumes he’s flirting, like this was absolutely intentional

when either of the boys, particularly sebastian is speaking to imelda and the conversation of mc comes up she absolutely refers to mc as “that gryffindor of yours”

i mean, it’s the age old rivalry that just gives everything that extra oomph! despite the fact nobody seems to be questioning that a gryffindor has closely befriended not one, but two slytherins because that certainly isn't suspicious (i'm surprised one of the gryffindors didn't bring it up - particularly leander)

speaking of leander, why are the more prominent gryffindors (and ravenclaws) so antagonistic or hellbent on getting us in trouble?

sebastian’s jealously towards both his friends is dripping in the crucio quest like, in the line below i know he means because mc and ominis have special abilities but...

"between the two of you, i'm starting to feel left out"

the constant proud "that's my girl" look on his face

"never know who's watching - although that hasn't stopped us before." "strictly speaking, it has. we were caught."

also at the start of the library mission, anyone notice the way he's casually waiting on mc against the banister smiling up at her? or whilst he's waiting on her and ominis to figure out the location of the scriptorium? like, this boy knows he's the shit.

listen, there are certain things that sebastian said and did during his storyline that even at that age, i would’ve noped out of but i went in with a “yes, corrupt the little goody-two-shoes gryffindor madly infatuated with you” attitude and honestly it was so much fun. cause objectively yeah, sebastian should be expelled at the very least but my mc was not gonna let them do that (they're very much giving jd and veronica)

that said, mc isn't about to let him walk all over her, she's a gryffindor for a reason, she's just had some misguided judgement

don’t love how there isn’t much of a reaction from either boy after crucio is cast on mc, especially from sebastian (again, massive red flag) but also, think the devs missed the mark on that one like sebastian is still mc’s friend, yeah he really wants to see anne healed but a little sympathy shown would’ve been nice and a proper acknowledgement of what'd he'd done.

even if sebastian shrugged it off quickly he should've helped them walk or at least offered a hand to stand up

i love the wee house jibes, i wish we got more of them!

"you're not a bad chap, for a slytherin" "you gryffindors don't have a monopoly on bravery y'know"

an awful lot of english folk in the scottish highlands

sebastian and poppy are talking whilst leaving a class and my brain was like “omg her bf + gf are talking!”

i want triwizard and yule so badly!

the red and the green / gold and silver looks, look so good!

mc makes a comment about how amazed sebastian will be when she tells him that she took down the ashwinders by herself

"it'd be wise to keep an eye on you"

_____

general headcanons (oc-ish)

he'd absolutely mutter continuous little digs and comments throughout their classes simply to get under her skin and make her smile whilst she's trying to listen to their professors (he used to do this to ominis but he's able to ignore sebastian now after years of the torment)

whilst having dinner in the great hall they won't be sitting together but they'll lightly tap or nudge one another on the back if they're passing behind each-other's designated tables

sebastian refers to the fat lady painting as the "golden gate keeper of mediocrity" after walking mc back to gryffindor tower, which earns him a mildly deserved elbow jab

he gives mc piggy-backs during their trips to hogsmead and the quidditch pitch

whilst she's walking to and from classes with cressida or natsai, sebastian is regularly seen inserting himself between them, putting an arm over mc and / or pinching her away over to ominis and nerida

"who would've thought, all it took was a snake to tame the lion" cressida noted to a disinterested leander, peering over at the scarlet robes peaking beneath the sea of green

mc likes to softly poke at his blushing cheeks, joking that if sebastian "gets any redder, he won't be allowed back into slytherin" or that "he might have to come back to gryffindor with her"

mc has on occasion accidently fallen asleep, resting her head on his shoulder during history of magic

most of the gryffindors (nellie, leander and garreth in particular) will tease sebastian as he waits for her outside the common room, claiming "she was ours first" and attempt to distract her for as long as possible beyond the painting just to 'knock 'im down a few pegs'

they're well aware she's highly capable of holding her own, but not only is he a slytherin, he's also sebastian sallow so they're protective

he much prefers bumping into natty, who'll make a light "lost puppy" joke, share laugh and proceed to actually go get mc or he would actively seek out lucan because he knows the kid sucks-up to him but eventually the older gryffindors caught-on and would bribe lucan with chocolate frogs to stop him in his tracks

mc enjoys exposing sebastian to muggle trinkets and snacks, she grew up in a travelling circus with her parents, a ringmaster and fortune teller who never attended hogwarts in their youth (i'm gonna do a separate oc bio)

the trio all share a love of pumpkin pasties and lavender tea so whoever has a free period (or when sebastian has detention) will pop down to the kitchen to collect some

forehead kisses, hugs and interlocked arms whilst exploring the castle are everything to these two (their subtle little height difference is adorable, especially when you remember fem!mc is wearing wee wedged shoes at the start of the game)

highwing isn't his biggest fan (prefers ominis) and mc relishes in that

[sanjisboyfie]

๑ keep safe : more in common than you'd think 彡 skypiea arc begins (21)

one piece x male reader

cause i'll be you and you'll be me 

there's lots and lots for us to see 

lots and lots for us to do 

she's electric, can i be electric too? 

『 prev 』

it took maybe an approximate 20 minutes before the crew began crying about how much they missed vivi. zoro and [name] were the only ones keeping some composure.

“don’t be whiny! if you wanted her to stay with us that bad, you should’ve just taken her by force!” zoro crudely remarked.

“you savage!”

“you’re the worst!”

“moss head.”

“three sword style!”

“hey, wait, luffy, three-sword style isn’t an insult,”

“four sword style,”

[name] laughed behind his hand, finding the annoyed expression on zoro’s face entertaining.

“what about you, [name]? aren’t you sad that we left her?” chopper asked, tears in his eyes, “or are you as heartless as zoro!”

“no, i’m sad,” [name] nodded, “but we’re gonna see her again so there’s no point in crying about it,”

“it’s a different kind of heartless!” usopp said in an accusatory tone, pointing a finger at [name].

“cursed orphan.”

“heartless [name].”

“you’re the second worst.”

“hey! wasn’t my take more optimistic than anything?!” he shouted at all of them, shaking his head as he saw that there was no use getting through their teary eyes.

“well, if anything, it looks like we finally made it off of that island,” a new voice spoke, not phasing the crew at first. but then [name] turned around and squinted his eyes at the new figure.

”wait…” he held his stare on her for a moment longer, lips pressing into a thin line as he began to hum in thought. her face was familiar…but he couldn’t remember from where he had seen her.

“enemy attack! enemy attack!” usopp began shouting, crocodile tears running down his eyes.

“here to avenge your organization, i’ll take you on!” zoro said in his usual aggressive tone.

“who is she?” [name] and chopper asked at the same time, much calmer than the others on board.

nami hid behind [name], usopp beside her before he took ahold of the sheathed sword that was resting on [name]’s back, “i’ll take care of you like i did last time! don’t come any closer, woman!”

“wait, who is she?” [name] repeated in confusion, smacking usopp on the head for touching the sword.

“who cares?! she’s that beautiful lady!” sanji answered, hearts in his eyes as he was rather excited about the situation.

the woman walked across the deck, using her devil fruit abilities to knock the weapons out of zoro and nami’s hand.

”i thought i asked you guys before to not point such dangerous things at me,” she said in a disappointed voice, “and you, how could you not remember our meeting when you were so passionate in killing me?”

“killing you…first meeting,” the crew watched as [name] mulled over his memories before he came to a conclusive: “don’t remember!”

“that doesn’t matter now! what matters is, how long have you been on this ship?” nami shouted at the woman, pointing a finger in her direction.

“all this time…”

“wait, you guys didn’t know she was on board?” [name] asked, looking at the rest of them.

they all whipped their heads around to look at him, eyes turning into angry slits as they shouted all in unison, “don’t tell me you knew she was here!”

[name] put his hands up in surrender, “well listen! i didn’t know it was her, but i knew someone else was on board with us! i thought she was someone luffy brought along with us…also i don’t even know who she is, so don’t get so mad at me!”

the crew couldn’t even begin to be that angry with [name] as they realized his reasoning wasn’t far off from reality. luffy was definitely a captain that’d drag new crew members onto the ship without telling anyone. so they all lowered their angry gazes from [name] and instead refocused on the woman.

“what’re you trying to do, baroque works?!”

the lady ignored nami and looked at luffy, “monkey d. luffy, you haven’t forgotten what you did to me, have you?”

“wait, can we at least get an introduction?” [name] pathetically asked, his request falling onto deaf ears.

“hey, you! don’t lie, i didn’t do anything to you!” luffy cried out, fighting against the grip sanji had on his collar. a childish whine was in his voice as he looked at the woman.

“yes, you did. what you did to me was unbearable. take responsibility,”

“you don’t make any sense! what do you want me to do?!”

“let me join your crew.”

everyone, minus zoro and m/n, shouted in surprise. well, sanji shouted in infatuation. everyone else was just baffled to hear such a forward request. [name] was still hung up on figuring out her identity, the piercing blue eyes she had were definitely memorable. but he could think of where he had seen them.

“you made me live when i wanted to die. that’s your crime.” she revealed, making sanji calm down and luffy hum in thought. “there’s no place for me to go or go back to. so let me stay on your ship,”

“oh! i see, then i guess we have no choice…okay!”

“good job, luffy, every life is valuable. you’re a good captain,” [name] praised, roughly patting the captain on the back.

“hold on a second, it can’t be that easy!” nami shouted at the duo in annoyance.

“don’t worry, she’s not a bad person!” luffy said in a confident tone, smiling so wide, but it didn’t ease the entire crew’s worries at all.

“if you say so!”

“and you! don’t be so willing to let this woman join us! don’t you remember?! she’s the one that wanted vivi dead!” nami reminded [name], shaking him back and forth. “she was crocodile’s right hand woman! you can’t trust her so easily,”

“what’s her name even?” [name] asked, allowing himself to be throttled back and forth by nami.

“nico robin,” the woman replied, eyes set on focusing on [name]. “you know, we have more in common than you’d think, [name]. i have a feeling we will get along just fine,”

“nico…robin,” he said her name slowly, looking at her with his eyebrows furrowed. nami stopped shaking him, seeing the gears turning in his head and praying that they were turning in favor for kicking her off of the boat.

”yeah, we will get along just fine,” [name] finalized after thinking to himself, “but if you try anything on this ship to endanger this crew, i’ll throw you over this ship and watch you drown to your death,”

“scary!” usopp shouted from behind the mast.

but [name]’s words only made robin laugh and say, “then, i look forward to it,”

“alright, well, this begs for a cup of coffee,” [name] gently pushed away from nami, promising that he’d come back with a cup for her as well.

[name] carefully brewed a cup of coffee for two, bringing it back on deck and blinking several times when he saw that there was debris falling from the sky. the ship began shaking as pieces fell in the ocean and the crew screamed in shock when a huge ship also fell right next to them.

he kept himself steadied on the deck, moving his arms with the motion of the ship so that the cups of coffee wouldn’t spill over. when the sea around them finally calmed down, he walked onto deck with everyone else.

”who did that?” he asked, sliding the cup over to nami who slapped his hand away.

”it’s not appropriate to drink coffee after such a terrifying experience!” she scolded, but [name] easily sipped the hot drink and hummed in delight.

“i’ll take it off your hands, cursed one,” robin’s voice spoke up from the side, making [name] chuckle.

“here, but drop that stupid name,” he handed it over to her without issues and watched in delight as she took the first sip, “how is it? i’m good, right?”

she nodded her head, taking another sip, “it does taste really good, i’m familiar with the beans you used. you took some from alabasta?”

he hummed in confirmation, looking to the rest of the crew as he sipped more of his favorite drink, “so what was all that?”

”does it look like we’d know?” zoro snarkily replied back, making [name] stick his tongue out to him.

“doesn’t hurt to ask, you negative swordsman,” [name] said in spite, not appreciating the attitude.

as the crew was trying to figure out why ship remains were all falling from the sky, nami had noticed that the log pose on her wrist was pointing straight upwards.

“what’re we gonna do?! our log pose is broken!” she announced, making everyone look at the compass-like device on her wrist. oddly, the needle was pointing directly upwards rather than in its usual horizontal way.

“that’s not it. it was updated by an island with a stronger magnetism,” robin corrected her, looking at the device, “if the log pose needle is pointing upwards, that means that there is a sky island it had locked onto.”

“sky island?!” [name] cried out, stars in his eyes as he imagined the scenary. “in the clouds?! are you serious, robin!?”

she chuckled at his excitement before continuing, “more precisely, there’s a sea that’s floating in the sky that so happens to have an island.”

once again, [name] cried out at the crazy idea, stars in his eyes as him and luffy began jumping in a circle. their shouts of excitement easily drowned out those of usopp and chopper, who were fearing for their lives.

“i’m getting more and more confused,” sanji sighed.

“what’s there to be confused about? robin explained it clearly, idiot cook!” [name] said in a very cheerful tone, his eyes turning to crescent, “island in the sea sky, island in the sea sky!”

“shut up!”

“yay! there’s a sea with an island in the sky, let’s go!!” luffy cheered, pointing up at the sky.

robin sighed and used her ability to cover luffy and [name]’s screaming mouths, so she could continue explaining in peace.

“to be honest, i’ve never seen the sky island, nor do i know much about it.”

“yeah! it’s impossible for an island or a sea to float in the air!” nami said, happy to hear a voice of reason over [name] and luffy’s childish babbling. “so the log pose must be broken!”

“our concern right now should not be the log pose, it should be how we get to the sky,” robin corrected once more, “no matter what weird situations this ship gets caught up in, or how panicked we get, we must not doubt the log pose. this is an iron clad rule!”

“so we are going to the sky island!” [name] said victoriously, finishing his cup of coffee and licking his lips, “nami, get us there!”

“stop ordering me around like you’re the captain!”

“nami, let’s go to the sky!!” luffy chimed in.

“idiot captain, we can’t just go to the sky!” sanji butted in, kicking down both [name] and luffy.

“well, let’s figure it out!” [name] walked over to the remains of a coffin on the deck, pulling on the skeletal figure out of the box, “can’t these guys give us some answers? maybe the ship over there too?”

“don’t just casually touch a dead person’s skull like that!” usopp and chopper cried out in fear, seeing [name] so nonchalantly prodding and poking at the bone.

“[name] has a point. we can dig some clues up from these remains, as well as the ship over there,” robin said, walking over and gingerly taking the skull from [name]’s hands.

“i call going to the ship,” [name] cheered, jumping over the railing without waiting for approval and swimming his way over to the wrecked ship.

“hey! no fair, [name]!! you’re hogging all the adventure to yourself!” luffy shouted from the deck, jumping up and down in annoyance.

“wait, i wanna see what’s over there too!!” usopp cried out in frustration. he grabbed ahold of luffy, who launched them over the side of the ship and to the wreckage.

“exploration!” the two shouted into the air, roughly landing on the wooden planks.

[name] was already on deck and going through old treasure chests with an unimpressed look on his face. most of the stuff was already emptied out or there was nothing worth while.

but finally, he hit the jackpot. he excitedly called out to luffy and usopp, holding up a piece of parchment with a proud grin.

“look! this just proves that it’s real! there is a real sky island and its called — skypiea!”

“amazing! let’s bring it back to the deck — oh, but i can’t move, i feel weak,” luffy suddenly collapsed into [name]’s arms and the cold rush of water hitting his legs made him realize that the ship they were on was beginning to sink.

“shit!” he cursed, bringing luffy to piggy back on his shoulder and grabbing usopp by his collar. he shot them forward very quickly, harshly landing on deck and spitting out some sea water he accidentally swallowed.

he weakly held up the parchment, grinning when he saw it was still in tact.

”see! see! it’s real!!!” luffy cheered, still collapsed on [name]’s back.

“alright, the sky island exists! it’s a dream island!” chopper and usopp began cheering together, creating a dance line in celebration.

“don’t get too carried away! this could be a fake, there are a ton of fake maps out there anyway,” nami chided the celebrating trio, making [name] face palm at her blunt attitude. she seemed to realize her mistake when she saw the absolutely horrified looks that luffy, chopper, and usopp were giving her.

“nami didn’t mean that, right nami?” [name] said, trying to calm the group’s depression.

“y-yeah! there’s definitely a possibility it’s real…”

luffy and nami began arguing back and forth with one another and [name] tried to block out the sound of their screaming. instead he opted in searching the sky, as if there were clues of the sky island right above them.

robin seemed to take note of his daydreaming and engaged him in conversation, “are you willing to go to the sky island, [name]?”

he looked at her with a smile and nodded his head, “wouldn’t that be so fun! no one would even believe us when we tell them,” he laughed to himself, thinking of being able to boast of going to skypiea. “they’ll all think we’re insane!!”

“well, this bunch already can accomplish that without even needing to go to an island in the sky,” robin mused, watching the scene unfold in front of them. the two were now sitting on the stairwell and conversing as if they were the only two on deck.

“i wanted to get the chance to talk to you alone,” [name] said suddenly, a serious look on his face, “nico robin, i’m sorry about what happened to you,”

the woman blinked, not showing her surprise in [name] knowing about her past. she didn’t expect him to know simply because he was a good amount of years younger than her. but with the amount of people on the crew, there was bound to be someone that was aware.

“were you the one that made it happen to me? then there are no need for apologies,” she spoke softly, smiling when she saw that he was still frowning.

“it’s just…no child deserves that,” he says after a couple of moments of silence, “children that have to suffer, tch, it makes my blood boil thinking about what they’ve done to you.”

robin waved her hand, “you weren’t there and we barely know each other, why the sudden cause for concern about this?”

[name] shrugged, “like i said, no child should have to go through that. no matter how old you are now, it doesn’t change the stuff you had to endure as a child,”

she felt a part of her heart thaw at his confession. [name] was being truly sincere with his words, she could tell. and it made her feel comforted that someone was being so nice to her amidst all the changes. but, she couldn’t indulge on this feeling for so long. so she simply smiled once more, gazing at him knowingly.

“i do suppose we share an experience in that aspect, huh?”

[name] spoke carefully, “more in common than you think - wasn't that what you said earlier?”

and not wanting to leave the man in such a saddened state, robin poked his side with a sprouted hand and laughed at his shocked expression, “well, it’s best not to dwell on things like that for so long,”

“of course, of course!” [name] cheerfully replied, his expression doing a complete shift and showing his usual optimistic side.

internally, robin wondered how [name] could be so carefree. she didn’t doubt that he shared some similar troubles. so it baffled her to see him so carefree and uncaring. but she decided that it could be a conversation for a later time, or not even a conversation at all.

[name] and robin’s intimate conversation coming to an end made them turn their attention back onto the rest of the crew. while they were temporarily in their own world, luffy, sanji, and zoro were sent down below the sea to “salvage” the ship. so when they looked back on deck, the only people of the straw hat crew were nami, usopp, and chopper.

then looking to his left he realized, there was an unknown huge ship that was next to them and it seemed that there was a monkey leading them.

“monkey.” he said simply, pointing a finger at the creature and looking at the rest of the crew in confusion, “hey, guys, who is that?”

“as if we’d know,” nami sighed in annoyance.

“did you just say i was very monkeyful?! hehe, thank you for taking note of my ruggedly good looks,” the creature said, making [name]’s eyes widen in shock.

“why can it speak?! it’s not going ooh-ooh-aah-aah!! lame!!”

“is that really what you should be focusing on right now? those guys could be trouble,” usopp came running over and hiding behind [name]’s figure, pointing a finger at the ship, “go on and sink them before they can get the chance to attack us,”

“what obscene power do you think i have?” [name] sweat dropped, feeling usopp’s legs shake behind him. “i can’t just do that to these people — they haven’t done anything to us!”

”not yet they haven’t!”

“what do you guys think you’re doing on our turf though?! even though you called me handsome just now doesn’t mean i’ll let this slide!”

“who called who handsome?” the crew said in unison, bored looks on their faces as they didn’t understand what the monkey was talking about at all.

“your turf?” robin called out, taking the initiative to get answers out of the monkey.

“yeah! everything in this turf is mine to salvage! it’s all mine! so explain to me why you were here, are you planning on taking my treasures?!”

nami and usopp looked nervous, beginning to shake and sweat where they stood.

“oh, if you’re gonna salvage it, could you show us?”

the scared duo looked at [name] as if he were out of his mind, turning their heads slowly to shout at him. but then they heard the monkey on board the other ship begin laughing to his heart’s content, as if [name] told a good joke.

“are you so flattered by my good looks you wish to accompany me in salvaging this ship, pursuing this career together for the rest of our lives?!”

the crews’ jaws dropped as they saw the flattered and blushing expression on the monkey’s face. [name] smiled, seeing that this was the perfect excuse to buy zoro, sanji, and luffy time — since they were the ones underwater and actually salvaging the ship.

“yes, yes, handsome man!! please! show me and i’ll consider sailing with you and joining your salvaging crew!”

“well, since you asked so nicely!!”

“i can’t believe that that worked!!” usopp and nami said in a hushed shout. “there’s no way this guy is that stupid!”

“hey! who knows, if he finds us some really great treasure, i’ll elope away with him!” [name] said jokingly, making the rest of the crew look at him with deadpan faces as if to say, “that’s not even a funny joke.”

the monkey on the other ship began to show off his abilities on salvaging, whatever that entailed. [name] was only pretending to pay attention. his eyes were scanning the water to try and see how close or far the three of their crewmates were.

he clicked his tongue in annoyance when he saw that he couldn’t even sense their presence, that’s how far down they were.

as the crew now had no other option but to watch the others salvage the ship, they just stood along the railing and made sure to keep an eye out for any of their three crewmates.

then suddenly, luffy shouted about something happening below water and the entire crew tensed up as his voice echoed on their end. there was a tube that connected them, auditorily, to sanji, zoro, and luffy underwater. this caught the attention of the salvaging pirates, who turned their heads at the unfamiliar voice.

usopp slapped his hand down onto the speaker and [name] took the reigns in distracting the monkey, “say what’s that monkey doing over there? does it do something cool, mr. monkey?” he was pointing at their ship's mascotted head, a big body of a monkey. 

this was effective in making the monkey blush and direct his attention elsewhere, “please, simply call me masira, mr. monkey is too formal for future lovers! oh! and that monkey there, i’ll just show you what it can do!”

[name] grinned, high fiving nami behind him as he successfully got masira off of their backs. then masira started huffing air into some sort of tube and the crew began to piece everything together.

“ah, so they start filling it up with air to make it rise to the surface-”

“help!!! help! there’s someone on the ship!!” an unfamiliar voice echoed from below the water surface, making the crew get on guard again.

“i bet it was zoro’s dumbass that started attacking them,” [name] said to himself, easily blaming the swordsman. masira jumped under water and [name] eagerly waited for who would emerge from the water.

it took a long while before anything happened, but the next thing to shock them wasn’t even anyone from their crew coming back up from the water.

instead it was a giant turtle. and [name] felt stars in his eyes show as he saw its huge size.

“that’s so cool, can we use it as a boat instead?! say, robin, didn’t you use a turtle before, we can use one again!!”

robin chuckled, finding [name]’s childish nature amusing, “i don’t think this one would listen as well as mine back then — it’s too big to control,”

“hey! you two, don’t talk so casually when something as weird as that is in front of us!”

“but it’s just a big turtle,” [name] whined at nami’s scolding, then he grinned devilishly, “alright, it’s decided! scaley! your name is scaley!!”

“don’t go naming the giant turtle, idiot!” nami shouted once more. “aren’t you worried for your crewmates?! they just got eaten by that thing!!”

“huh? they did?”

”pay more attention, won’t you?!” usopp cried out, crocodile tears running down his face.

“oh, i’ll take care of it then,” [name] simply said with a shrug. just as he was about to get the rest of their crew back, the day light had suddenly turned dark. this made the entire crew stop and focus their attention on the switch.

“hey, who turned off the lights?” [name] asked no one in particular, looking around and seeing that everything around them was pitch black.

out of nowhere, a figure broke out form the water and crashed onto their deck. unfortunately, it was more like they crashed into [name] as he was standing right in the spot where it landed.

luffy, all wrapped up in some fabric, was laying on top of [name] and he wasn’t even conscious. soon following, sanji and zoro jumped onto deck.

”why did it have to be me?” [name] sighed, pushing luffy off him and coughing as he tried regaining his breath. nami came running over, slapping their captain several times over and demanding answers to questions he wasn’t even conscious to hear.

“set sail! let’s hurry and get out of here while we still can!” zoro huffed, a huge package resting on his back.

sanji, who had the same amount of loot behind him, added in, “he’s crazy — he must of been one of the sea animals.”

the two began finishing each others’ sentences in explaining what happened underwater. then just as they were about to set sail, the monkey from before had popped up out from underwater and demanded they give him back his treasure.

at the sight of his imposing figure so close, chopper ran away from the front and hid behind [name]’s leg. but [name] didn’t look at all intimidated. instead, he was too focused on the sky and what was making it so dark.

figures of enormous size were all standing on the horizon. his eyes were blown completely wide as he took in their sheer size and tried to stay calm when he saw that one of them began moving.

“everyone start rowing, now!!” [name] shouted, being one of the first to snap out of their stupor. the rest of the crew that were capable of rowing got ahold of the oars and started frantically trying to get out of the giant’s sight. after their rowing efforts and [name] directing the currents beneath their boat vey minimally, they were able to get away - somehow. 

“what the fuck was that?” [name] breathed, resting his hand on his chest to calm his racing heart. he was collapsed on the deck and the others were debriefing on what just happened.

after kicking out masira when they realized that he was still on board, the discussion turned into what they should do now that they had no clues as to where they were.

robin saved the day, though, when she presented an eternal pose of an island named “jaya.” after arguing back and forth, mainly between nami and luffy, they decided to start their journey to jaya, get as much information as quick as possible, and then go to sky island.

“thanks for the takoyaki, sanji!” [name] proudly proclaimed, showing off the octopus that he had stolen off from robin and nami’s plates.

before the chef could kick some sense into him, he jumped up the stairwell and hid behind zoro.

“don’t use me as some shield!” the swordsman grunted, but he didn’t move from his position in front of [name]. instead he challengingly stared down at the blonde chef, who was glaring at the both of them.

“if you’re gonna wanna get to me, sanji, you have to fight zoro!” [name] shouted, inciting a fight between the two almost instantly. the two began bickering and [name] was forgotten.

and he hummed in delight when he felt the food warm his once empty stomach.

“yummy!” he cried out, showing it off to robin so she could take one as well. she grinned, thanked him gently, and took one off of his plate. it was hers to begin with, but she wasn’t interested in eating it.

but seeing [name]’s childish grin staring her down as an invitation, she couldn’t help but indulge the man. and when she hummed in delight at the food, [name] grinned and nodded his head even faster, “so yummy, right? here, have the rest! i’m gonna steal some of luffy’s!!”

robin took the plate off of his hands and watched as the h/c haired man ran across the ship shouting for luffy to hand over his food. and now two fights were happening on deck, between sanji and zoro and then luffy and [name] wrestling one another.

it seemed that no matter what was going on, like escaping from giant mystery shadow figures, the merry was always bursting with life. robin sighed, taking another takoyaki into her mouth and wondering how the rest of her journey with the strawhats would play out.

-

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taglist (lmk if u want to be tagged ! <3 :

@skullr0se, @strawberrii-tea, @triangulartriangles, @anotherlovefool, @haratatsu, @sinmp, @3v37773, @taru-nami, @disc0dild0s, @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @kaulitzer, @notplutos, @cheetosins

[athena-xox]

Okay lots of people don’t like Dizzie (Daring/Lizzie) and say they have no chemistry. Which is fair IN THE TV SERIES. but I’m a wonderlandiful world? Even tho Darings barely in it he still has so much chemistry with Lizzie. Maybe it’s just my theatre kid heart (hahaha) but like they’re so adorable.

AND WHEN LIZZIE KNIGHTED HIM.

Okay minor spoilers for a wonderlandiful world, I’m going to put some of my favourite Dizzie quotes from there.

“Now, kneel.”

Cedar was surprised to see Daring do so without argument.

Through some twist of magic, Lizzie’s butter knife had enlarged with him, now as big as a sword. She picked it up, solemnly touching its flat side to each of Daring’s shoulders.

“I knight you a defender of Wonderland, Sir Daring Charming. Heroic, loyal, fuzzy doom.”

“Yes, exactly like a pirate,” Lizzie said. “I would be much more comfortable speaking with you if you were a pirate.”

Briar put a finger to her chin, considering, and promptly glided to the ground, fast asleep.

“Arrr, Lizzie Hearts! Have ye killed Briar Beauty?” a voice asked from behind.

Daring Charming sauntered up and saluted her. He’d been so accommodating with her pirate request that Lizzie felt certain her mother couldn’t disapprove of their friendship.

“Aren’t you supposed to be racing?” Lizzie asked.

“No rush,” he said. “I always win. Even when I don’t.” He winked at her. “Ahoy, matey.”

“Daring swooped into a royal bow and said, “Be still, my heart! A fair princess has arrived!” And, strangely, he was looking at Lizzie, not Apple. Daring’s complimentary, showy stuff seemed to set the Ever After girls’ lashes aflutter, but Lizzie raised an eyebrow.

“If your heart were still, Mr. Charming,” she said, “then you would be dead.”

“Excuse me?” Daring asked.

“You said ‘be still, my heart,’ thereby commanding your heart to stop beating,” said Lizzie. “If your heart is obedient, I expect you to drop dead at my feet.”

Daring stared at Lizzie. He opened his mouth and seemed surprised when a chuckle escaped it. Lizzie smirked. She didn’t often hear Daring Charming chuckle.”

Off with its head!” shouted Lizzie.

Daring drew his sword with a flash of steel and an equally brilliant flash of a white-toothed smile.

“I’m just the prince for the job,” he said.

Lizzie smiled in surprise that someone was actually taking her seriously.

Daring winked

Lizzie lifted one hand, posing as she had on the amphitheater’s stage. “I

have returned, Boreas, wind-herder, to watch you writhing in the agony of age and death.”

Daring laughed heroically. “What a battle. Bards will sing of my deeds! Or perhaps a pop singer. Do you listen to Katy Fairy?”

“I do not!” Lizzie said grandly. “But I shall listen to her squalling posthaste as you are my friend, and friends recommend music to each other!

The audience gasped. Lizzie smiled. Maybe this strutting-about-a-stage business wasn’t so bad. She glanced at the anxious face of Headmaster Grimm for inspiration and decided to make up a few more lines. “I will not be the daughter who does nothing but watch her wrinkled father writhe with the agony of age and death, your voice slowly becoming more nasal and oddly high-pitched, as if you were being strangled by a possum or a really weak octopus or something.”

Daring pressed his lips together, valiantly attempting to hold back a laugh, and ultimately failing.

Darabella, Darise, Dapple or Farring could never. Also Dizzie technically got the beauty and the beast (well daring as a beast and Lizzie is always obviously beautiful) arc first. Even if it was sadly under developed.

Anyways Shannon Hale obviously ships Dizzie (well probably idk if she’s said anything on the matter) and it’s the best Daring ship. I suppose Kizzie (Kitty x Lizzie) kind of comes close but they just don’t have that romantic tension like her and daring do.

Anyways I think more people should appreciate them.